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mononijikayu · 1 month ago

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love is the law, religion is taught — ryomen sukuna.

"And what does that make me, my lord?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. Sukuna looked at you again, his smirk returning but softer this time, almost wistful. "It makes you the only one who matters. Out of everyone, every woman in these lands. You are the only one that matters above them. Behind me.” And behind that, behind Hiromi. You whisper in your head.

GENRE: alternate universe - heian era;

WARNING/S: nsfw, angst, one sided romance, conflicted feelings, hurt/no comfort, unhappy marriage, forced parenthood, hurt, physical touch, character death, mourning, loneliness, pain, conflicted relationship, emotional distress, grief, toxic relationship, depiction of suicide, depiction of suicidal ideation, depiction of one-sided relationship, depiction of grief, depiction of complicated relationship, depiction of parenthood, depiction of canon related violence, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, mention of illness, mention of loneliness, heian! sukuna, long suffering concubine! reader;

WORD COUNT: 20k words

NOTE: when i was writing this, i thought it wouldn't be this long. but when i ended up writing more and more, i just couldn't stop. i ended up writing this as a sort of prequel to the other woman's latter parts. if people are aware of me from other websites or just here, you know i write a lot. this 20k usually was my usual writing. but i feel like people like a lot of short stories. i'll post about that some time else. i'm gonna be sorry for breaking more of your hearts like this. the reason this took so long as me drafting multiple times. and then my exams. so, it just...this will be a read. anyway, i love you guys!!! thank you for your birthday wishes. see you later <3

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YOU COULD FEEL THE YEARS IN YOUR BONES. You had been Ryomen Sukuna’s concubine for nearly ten years, a role that once filled you with dread and uncertainty. Over time, however, the nature of your relationship shifted. Unlike the others who served him out of fear or obligation, you had managed to carve out a space for yourself in his world—one of strange but growing trust.

It wasn't love, at least not for you, but it was something. Ryomen Sukuna treated you differently from the others. He sought your company more often, and the violent edge in his voice seemed to soften when he addressed you.

What set you apart wasn’t just your demeanor or willingness to adapt—it was your face, the way you looked almost identical to Ryomen Hiromi, the only woman your husband Sukuna had ever loved.

At first, you didn’t know why he lingered in your presence or why his temper cooled when you were near. It was only after overhearing a conversation between two of his most trusted advisors that you realized the truth. You looked just like her—the woman whose memory still haunted him. You had become a ghost of his past, a stand-in for the love he had lost long ago.

As the years passed, you began to understand Sukuna in ways no one else could. He never spoke of Ryomen Hiromi to you, but in quiet moments, you saw the flicker of something softer in his gaze.

Perhaps he found comfort in your presence because you reminded him of her. Or maybe, in some twisted way, he had come to care for you—not as the woman you were, but as the reflection of someone long gone.

Even so, you knew where you stood. You were the favored concubine, yes, but the specter of Ryomen Hiromi loomed between you, casting a shadow over every fleeting moment of tenderness. You were not her, and you never would be. But in this cruel, tangled relationship, you had become the closest thing Sukuna allowed himself to care for.

You had long since come to terms with your place in Sukuna's world, understanding that his affection for you wasn’t truly yours. Still, it made life easier, gave you a strange sort of power in a place where others lived and died on his whims.

Once in a blue moon, sometimes, you both sat together for dinner. It was a rare occasion, that was for sure. Ryomen Sukuna often eats alone, served by his most loyal servant Uraume. But there were times when he would ask you to join him. It was often late at night, Sukuna didn't sleep well. You doubt he ever does.

As the sun set and the air turned cool that night, Uraume had come to your chambers and told you that Sukuna summoned you to his chambers to sup with him. You were surprised. But you immediately dressed with the help of your servants and as soon as the last of your satin ribbons were tied to your hair, you rushed out towards his chambers.

When you had arrived, the servants had been tense. It is usually like that when your lord Sukuna does not get what he wants. You apologized to them quietly, as quietly as possible for your lord husband not to hear. You would rather not have him do so. He does not like anyone, anything he owns lower themselves. You told them to leave, to go away. You would rather that it be you in that room alone with him. It would be easier.

It was one of those rare moments where he wasn’t looking to dominate or torment. Instead, he seemed pensive, sitting by the window, staring out at the horizon. Trays of food were scattered with luxurious food and luxurious ceramic tiles of alcohol. It was not for your husband. He does not need such sustenance.

It was for you, even with your small appetite. You could feel a bile rip through your throat. You purse your lips, walking inside the room and slowly lowering yourself, to bow. His crimson eyes flickered to you as you entered, and the smallest of smirks tugged at his lips.

“You're late, little one.” he said, his voice deep and teasing, though there was no real malice in it.

"I was making sure I looked presentable, my lord." you replied calmly, accustomed to his games. "I didn't think you'd appreciate rushing in disarray with your servant.”

He chuckled, low and dangerous, but you had learned to discern when that sound held genuine amusement. He urges you forward from your bowing position and you stand up, moving towards him and sitting on the silk pillow as gracefully as you could.

"You always did know how to play the part. Perhaps that's why I tolerate you more than the others."

You sat across from him, not too close, but not far enough to seem distant. "Or perhaps it's because I remind you of her."

At this, his expression shifted. His eyes darkened, and for a moment, you thought you had overstepped. But instead of lashing out, Sukuna leaned back in his chair, his gaze unwavering on you. You looked over the meal and started to plate for your husband, even if he does not eat it. And then yourself. You slowly moved your sleeve away, carefully as you took the alcoholic beverage and started pouring it upon silver cups, first for him and then on your own.

"You think you're clever, little one?" he said, his tone neutral, betraying nothing. "But tell me... do you believe that’s all you are to me? A ghost of someone who no longer exists?"

It was a question you had pondered many nights alone in your chambers, alone and cold, unable to sleep whatsoever. You wanted to believe that over the years, you had carved out a space of your own in his cold heart, but the truth was undeniable. You were Ryomen Hiromi’s echo, the closest thing he would allow himself to love again. But how much of you, the real you, did he see?

"I don’t pretend to know what goes on in your mind, my lord." you said carefully, holding his gaze. "But I know I am not her. And I know you don’t care for me the way you cared for her."

Silence hung heavy between you. Sukuna's eyes, burning with something unreadable, bore into yours before he spoke again, softer than usual. He uncharacteristically lets his hand move towards the table and slowly takes one of the silver cups full of sake and raises it to his lips. He downs it slowly, letting the cool smooth taste echoes on his throat.

"You're right, little one." he admitted, surprising you. "You're not her. You never will be. Best remember it, hm?"

His words were sharp, meant to cut, but they didn't sting the way they once might have. You were used to those words. And so you do not speak. You let him say what he does and slowly let yourself consume the warm flavorful broth.

Sukuna looks towards you once more, watching you eat some meat. Silence echoes through the room. Instead, they hung in the air like a truth neither of you could avoid. And yet, as he turned his gaze back toward the setting sun, his voice grew quieter.

"But you're the only one who's come close."

It wasn’t an admission of love or devotion—you already know that your lord Sukuna wasn’t capable of that, not anymore. You were used to it. And yet, even if it was something you were used to it — you were still pained by it. But it was the closest you would ever get to understanding his complicated feelings for you. It was all that was left in his pitch black heart that never belonged to Ryomen Hiromi. You swallowed the last of the meat.

"And what does that make me, my lord?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sukuna looked at you again, his smirk returning but softer this time, almost wistful. "It makes you the only one who matters. Out of everyone, every woman in these lands. You are the only one that matters above them. Behind me.”

And behind that, behind Hiromi. You whisper in your head.

He rose from his seat, approaching you with the predatory grace that always reminded you of the monster he truly was. He cupped your chin, tilting your face up toward him, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. You could feel your breath hitch hotly as his gaze burned your own. You purse your lips, trying to maintain control of yourself.

"But never forget, little one." Sukuna continued, his tone dropping. "You are here because I allow it. You may remind me of her, but you are still mine to control."

You held his gaze, unflinching. "I haven’t forgotten, my lord."

For a moment, the two of you remained like that for a moment. It was as though you were both locked in a silent struggle of power, emotion, and unspoken understanding. Even after ten years, it was just that way. Finally, Sukuna released you, stepping back as though the moment had never happened.

"Good." he said, turning away once more. "Now leave me for the night, little one. I’ve had enough of this sentimental nonsense for one night."

You nodded at him. You drank the last cup of alcohol and let the bitterness burn you. Soon after, you rose without a word, bowing slightly before you made your way to the door. Just before you left, you paused, glancing back at him one last time.

"I wish you a good night, my lord."

He didn’t respond, his attention already back on the horizon. But as you left, you couldn't help but wonder if somewhere, buried deep within him, there was more to his feelings than even he understood.

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THE PEOPLE OF HIDA VIEWED YOUR HUSBAND LIKE A GOD. They always have, for as long as you could remember. The grand hall of Ryomen Sukuna’s temple buzzed with the presence of those who had come from all corners of Hida.

The heavy doors swung open to let in petitioners, men and women alike, who approached with heads bowed low, their faces masked with fear or desperation. Some came seeking mercy, others with requests for blessings or favors only Sukuna could grant.

They dared not meet his eyes as they offered up their pleas, knowing that their fates rested on the whims of the man seated high upon the throne.

And there you sat, just below him, on a fine mahogany chair that had been made specifically for you, a symbol of your status within the temple. The carved wood was smooth beneath your fingers, but no amount of comfort could erase the tension simmering beneath your skin.

Sukuna's gaze swept across the crowd with indifference, his presence towering over all as his blood-streaked eyes flickered lazily between the petitioners. You could feel the immense weight of his power bearing down on the room, as though his very presence could crush anyone at will.

But what irked you the most wasn’t the groveling or the constant fear that filled this place. No, it was her.

Directly in front of you, standing tall in the center of the hall, was the statue of Ryomen Hiromi. The woman who had haunted you from the moment you became Sukuna's concubine. The resemblance between you and her was striking—uncannily so.

The cold, lifelike stone eyes stared straight ahead, almost as if they were judging you, just as she had judged countless others. The figure of Hiromi was positioned so that it faced not just Sukuna, but you as well, creating an eerie sense of being under constant scrutiny. Her hands, carved with impeccable precision, reached out in a serene pose, like a goddess looking down on humanity.

It was not just this one statue, either. There were others scattered throughout the temple—statues, paintings, carvings—each one depicting Hiromi in a different light. She was revered here, just as much as Sukuna himself.

The woman Sukuna loved most, the woman you could never truly become, was enshrined in every corner of his temple. Her image lingered like a ghost, haunting you, reminding you that no matter how close you sat to his throne, you would always be second to her.

Sukuna’s voice echoed in the chamber, deep and commanding, as he passed judgment on the next petitioner, his words casual as if human lives were merely tokens to him. You barely listened, too distracted by the sensation of Hiromi’s stone eyes watching you, bored at you with those haunting eyes..

You couldn’t escape her. Not here. Not ever.

Your eyes drifted from the petitioner at Sukuna's feet back to the statue, a chill crawling down your spine. It was too perfect. The way it captured her beauty, her serene expression, the very essence of what made her Ryomen Hiromi—everything that made her more than just a memory for Sukuna.

You wondered, in your darkest moments, whether Sukuna had commissioned these statues himself, making sure they were as accurate as possible, preserving every detail of the woman he loved more than life itself.

The thought gnawed at you.

The crowd shifted again, and you could hear the low murmurs of the people waiting for their turn to kneel before Sukuna. A faint breeze from the temple’s high windows stirred the air, and the faint sound of bells chimed in the distance.

And still, the statue stood, unwavering, staring at you with those lifeless eyes. It was as if Ryomen Hiromi had never left, as if she lingered between this world and the next, a permanent fixture in Sukuna’s heart, never allowing you to forget that you were only here because of her.

“Next.” Sukuna’s voice boomed, pulling you from your thoughts.

Another petitioner shuffled forward, trembling as they knelt. Sukuna watched them with a bored expression, waiting for them to speak.

You didn’t look at him. Instead, your gaze flickered back to the statue—always back to her. She was everywhere. No matter where you turned in this temple, in this life with Sukuna, Ryomen Hiromi was there.

Her presence was eternal, and it was driving you mad.

It wasn’t as if you truly hated Ryomen Hiromi. How could you hate someone you had never met, someone who existed only in the memories of others and in the cold, flawless statues that filled this temple? No, hatred wasn’t the right word. But her presence—her haunting, ever-present likeness—gnawed at you in ways that went deeper than resentment. It was painful.

Painful because every time you looked at her, it reminded you that you would never truly be seen for who you were. Sukuna’s gaze might fall on you often, but you knew the truth. He wasn’t looking at you—he was seeing her. You were a reflection, an echo of the only woman he had ever truly loved. And that knowledge burns inside you, slowly and constantly.

The way her statues were placed, almost reverent, made it clear just how important she was. To the people of this land, Ryomen Hiromi was no less a god than Sukuna himself. Her beauty, her grace, her presence—immortalized in stone—became a legend, a tale passed down from generation to generation. And you? You were simply the woman who bore her face, destined to be a stand-in for a love long lost.

You couldn’t escape it.

Even now, as you sat in that carefully crafted chair below Sukuna’s throne, the image of Hiromi loomed over you. Her delicate features seemed to accuse you, her eyes hollow but full of judgment. It was as if she were silently asking: Why are you here? Why are you in this temple, sitting at his feet, when you could never be me?

Your fingers tightened on the armrests, a subtle but instinctive reaction to the thoughts swirling in your mind. You knew it wasn’t logical to be angry at a statue—at a dead woman whose only crime was being loved by Sukuna—but the feeling still crept in. You had no reason to despise her, but the weight of constantly living in her shadow was suffocating.

Another plea for mercy echoed through the hall, but you barely registered it. Sukuna’s voice was deep, dismissive as he granted or denied requests with a wave of his hand. This was his world, and Hiromi was as much a part of it as you were. More, even. She had her place in his heart, in his temple, in the minds of the people who worshiped them both.

But where was your place? Were you always to be nothing more than a reflection, someone to remind him of what he had lost? And what pained you more was that even after nearly ten years by his side, you hadn’t found an answer to that question. Sukuna had grown accustomed to you, perhaps even fond of you, but you knew that in the deepest recesses of his heart, it was Hiromi’s memory that still held sway.

It hurt in ways you couldn’t explain.

You weren’t her. And no matter how long you stayed by Sukuna’s side, no matter how much you tried to understand him, to navigate the storm of his power and wrath, you could never be her.

A quiet sigh escaped your lips as you lowered your gaze, away from the statue, away from the memory that plagued you. The hall was filled with voices, but none of them reached you. Sukuna’s voice, sharp and dismissive, barely registered in your ears.

The weight of Hiromi’s existence pressed down on you, heavier than the stone statues that surrounded you, more oppressive than the walls of the temple that bore her likeness in every corner. For a moment, you allowed yourself to wonder—a dangerous, fleeting thought—what would it have been like if she had never existed?

If Ryomen Hiromi had never crossed Sukuna’s path, never claimed the part of his heart that was now lost to time, would his gaze fall upon you differently? Would he see you, truly, and not the pale reflection of the woman he had loved so deeply? Could you have been someone significant to him in your own right, not simply because of your resemblance to her?

The thought lingered, bittersweet, filling you with a longing you barely allowed yourself to acknowledge. It was tempting, imagining a world where Hiromi had never been. Where you, instead of living in her shadow, might have been the first to carve a place in Sukuna’s heart, the one to leave an indelible mark on his soul.

But it was a foolish thought, and you knew it.

Hiromi had shaped him. Her love—or perhaps the memory of her—had molded him into the man he was now. She wasn’t just a figure of the past. She was the cornerstone of this entire existence, the silent foundation upon which Sukuna had built his empire, his throne, his identity.

The cold stone likeness of her didn’t just haunt this temple—it haunted Sukuna’s very being. It influenced his every thought, his every action, even the way he looked at you.

You weren’t just living in her shadow. You were her shadow, a reflection of something he could never truly let go of. And no matter what you did, no matter how close you came to him, you would always be caught between the person you were and the ghost of Hiromi.

And the worst part? You couldn’t hate her. Not really.

You wanted to. In those quiet, agonizing moments when you felt Sukuna’s eyes on you, knowing he was searching for traces of her in your face, you wanted to hate Hiromi with all your being. But how could you? She had been everything to him. Her love had meant something so profound that even in death, she lingered, casting her long shadow over the living. Her presence was woven into the very fabric of Sukuna’s existence.

But more than that, you owed her everything. Without Hiromi, without the love that had marked Sukuna so deeply, would he have ever taken notice of you at all? Would he have seen something in your face, something in your eyes that reminded him of the one woman he had ever loved?

Without Hiromi, you might not even be here. Her memory had brought you into his life, kept you by his side for nearly ten years. The recognition that you shared her likeness had made you his favorite, the one concubine who had stayed when so many others had come and gone. In some twisted way, Hiromi had paved the path that led you to this place, to this seat below his throne, to the strange, fragile bond you now shared with him.

But living in her shadow—it was a torment all its own.

Every statue, every carving, every whispered prayer to her image reminded you that no matter how close you came to Sukuna, you were not her. And you never would be. The affection he might show you was born not out of love for you, but out of a love that had long since died with Hiromi. You were the echo of something that had ended, a reflection of a life he had lost.

It was a strange, agonizing paradox. Without Hiromi, you would have nothing, no connection to Sukuna at all. But because of her, you would also never have everything. You could never be the woman he truly loved, no matter how long you stayed at his side.

And so, you sat there, beneath Sukuna’s throne, as the statue of Hiromi looked down on you with cold, indifferent eyes, her presence an inescapable reminder of the role you played in his life.

A role you hadn’t chosen, but one you were bound to, for as long as Sukuna wished it.

You snap back to the present as Sukuna’s deep voice rumbles through the hall, breaking through your swirling thoughts. “What do you think?” he asks, his gaze shifting from the kneeling man before him to you. His expression is unreadable, cold and calculating, as always, though there’s an edge of curiosity in his tone.

You blink, focusing on the man who trembles at Sukuna’s feet, eyes downcast, waiting for his judgment. The hall, filled with the murmurs of the petitioners, goes quiet in anticipation.

“What is his crime?” you ask, your voice calm, though you feel the weight of Sukuna’s gaze on you.

“He stole, little one.” Sukuna replies, a hint of amusement creeping into his voice as if daring you to suggest otherwise. “From one of my temples.”

You sigh softly, leaning back in your chair, your eyes narrowing slightly as you assess the man. His clothes are tattered, his hands dirty and worn—clearly a sign of the hard times that have plagued the land recently. The famine had hit Hida hard this year. Crops had failed, and many of the people were barely surviving, struggling just to feed their families.

“The famine has been hard on all, my lord.” you say quietly, though there’s an edge of empathy in your words. You weren’t excusing the man, but you understood the desperation that drove people to do things they wouldn’t have otherwise done. Hunger was a cruel master, and you’d seen its effects firsthand in the villages.

“That does not mean he is entitled to steal, little one.” Sukuna counters, his tone sharp, though he doesn’t seem angry—more like he’s making a point. “There needs to be justice.”

You purse your lips, knowing Sukuna’s sense of justice could be harsh, final, and unyielding. He ruled with an iron fist, and mercy was not something he granted easily. But you also knew he valued your opinion, at least in his own little ways. After all, you were the one concubine whose voice he truly listened to.

“Then chain him to me, my lord.” you say, your words surprising even yourself. You sit up straighter, meeting Sukuna’s gaze with unwavering resolve. “Let this man serve me in the Vermillion hall. My private garden needs tending. Let him work under my watch so that he may learn a lesson. Let him toil in the hardship of life for his mistake, rather than meet more... final end.”

The man at Sukuna’s feet looks up, his eyes wide with shock, perhaps hope, though he dares not speak. It was almost rare for anyone to be heard speaking with such authority in this hall the way Ryomen Sukuna does.

It was rarer that your voice was heard with such a loud echo. The other woman speaks, they all must think. The rarest words from her lips. Mercy, the virtue of the woman she could never replace, echoing in the stone sight of her.

The hall remains silent, as if everyone is holding their breath, waiting for Sukuna’s response.

Sukuna’s eyes linger on you, studying you for a long moment. You can feel the weight of his power in his gaze, the way he considers your words, turning them over in his mind. He is not a man to grant mercy lightly, and you know the risk you’re taking by asking this of him.

But after nearly ten years by his side, you’ve come to understand how to navigate his moods, his whims, and his sense of order. You knew when to have him indulge you, even when it was not an occurrence you repeated frequently.

Finally, a slow smile curves at the corners of his mouth. It’s not a warm smile—it never is—but it’s a sign that he’s pleased. “Very well, little one.” he says, his voice carrying the authority of his decision. “Let him serve you in the Vermillion hall. He will tend your garden, as you wish. But if he steps out of line—if he falters, even once—you will bring him back to me. He shall meet his end in the hands of his lord. Do you understand?”

There is no mistaking the threat beneath his words. You nod, accepting his terms.

“Thank you, my lord.” you say softly, turning your gaze to the man who has been spared, for now. He looks up at you with a mix of relief and fear, clearly aware of how close he came to a far more brutal fate.

Sukuna leans back on his throne, watching you both, as if amused by the small victory you’ve won for the man. But you know better than to think Sukuna was softened. This was merely a moment of indulgence, granted to you because of the peculiar bond you shared.

As the guards move to take the man away, you return your attention to the grand statue of Ryomen Hiromi, standing in front of you, her stone eyes as cold and distant as ever.

In the shadow of the woman who had everything, you had won a small victory today. But the haunting presence of Hiromi lingered still, reminding you that no matter what you did, Sukuna’s heart would never truly belong to you. And no matter what – your kindness would never be as beloved by the people who revered the stone that was left.

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YOU ENJOYED THE PRIVILEGE OF PRIVACY. Every day, you enjoyed the distant life you had lived here in the Vermillion hall. The Vermillion hall had been a gift from Sukuna, presented to you on your fifth year in his temple.

It wasn’t grand in the way his own halls were, but it was yours. A quiet, secluded enclave within the sprawling temple grounds, removed from the constant presence of the other concubines and the weight of Hiromi’s looming statues.

In the years prior, you had only been given a selection of rooms within Sukuna’s own quarters, close enough for him to visit whenever he pleased. Though his visits were rare, those rooms had been a symbol of your availability to him, a reminder that you were under his thumb, always within reach.

But as time passed, and your bond with Sukuna evolved into something more complex than mere possession, he decided to give you something more. Vermillion hall became yours. It was a gesture that left the other concubines seething with jealousy.

They already despised how close you had become to Sukuna, how often he lingered by your side, and now they had another reason to resent you. You knew that their hatred ran deep, festered in the corridors of his temple, where whispers of favoritism and betrayal echoed in the dark.

To pacify them, and perhaps to create some distance between you and their hostility, Sukuna had given you the Vermillion Hall. It wasn’t a grand act of love, nor was it some romantic gesture. It was practical. The gift served to ease tensions, to quell your growing discomfort, and to offer you a reprieve from the suffocating dynamics of the temple’s inner court.

In Vermillion Hall, you had your own household. Your own space, away from the eyes that burned with envy. Your own garden, tended by servants who answered only to you. There were pleasantries there, comforts that softened the harshness of your life with Sukuna. The hall was peaceful, serene, and for the first time in years, you had a sense of autonomy, a place to call your own.

You were aware of what the gift truly meant. It wasn’t love, not even affection in the way one might hope. Sukuna had never cared in that way. His gestures, while grand, were always calculated.

Vermillion hall was an offering of peace, a way to keep you satisfied, pacified. It wasn’t an act of affection but of convenience. With your own residence, you were removed from the tensions of the other concubines. You were out of the way, kept at a distance while still under his control.

And yet, you were grateful. Despite knowing the reasons behind it, you cherished the hall because it afforded you something you hadn’t realized you craved so deeply—freedom.

You were far enough from the other concubines, from their petty schemes and cruel glares. Away from the prying, stone-cold eyes of Hiromi’s likeness, always watching you from every corner of the main temple. And, perhaps most importantly, you were away from Sukuna’s immediate reach.

Here, in your quiet refuge, you could breathe without constantly feeling the weight of his presence or his demands. The distance didn’t erase your bond with him—Sukuna could summon you whenever he wished, and you would always return—but it allowed you moments of solitude, moments to reflect and gather yourself.

In Vermillion Hall, you found a strange sort of peace. Away from the tempest of Sukuna’s world, you could finally be alone with your thoughts. And in that space, you realized how much you had craved this separation—how, even in your closeness to Sukuna, you had always yearned to be free from the shadow of both him and Hiromi.

The garden at Vermillion hall was your sanctuary. It had been from the moment you first stepped foot into it, surrounded by delicate vermillion petals, fragrant herbs, and the soft hum of nature’s presence.

Sukuna had forbidden the servants from tending to it, decreeing that it was yours alone to care for, a space untouched by others. It was a strange sort of gift—one that granted you solitude but also burdened you with its upkeep.

In the beginning, you had relished the challenge, pouring your time and energy into every plant, every blossom. The act of tending the garden gave you purpose, something to pour your hands into when everything else in your life felt dictated by Sukuna’s whims. It was an escape, a place where you could breathe and let your thoughts wander.

But as the years passed, you found it harder to keep up with. The garden grew wild, sprawling beyond what you could manage alone. The weight of maintaining it, along with the complexities of your life in Vermillion hall, began to overwhelm you. What was once your refuge now became a reminder of your isolation, each untended leaf and overgrown vine whispering of the loneliness you felt within these walls.

That was when Sukuna granted your request—begrudgingly, perhaps—and allowed you a servant. The man who came to you, your new gardener, was named Hironobu. His name meant “gentle abundance” and it seemed to suit him perfectly.

He was a quiet, unassuming figure, with a calm presence that filled the garden like a steady breeze. He wasn’t like the other servants, who always carried a quiet fear of Sukuna in their eyes. There was something different about Hironobu, a certain calm that put you at ease in a way you hadn’t expected.

At first, you barely spoke to him, unsure of how to navigate the strangeness of having someone else in your once-private space. But as days turned to weeks, and weeks to months, you began to find comfort in his presence. He tended to the garden with care, never overstepping, always leaving space for you to do what you wished. But slowly, you began to rely on him more and more. His hands, though calloused, were gentle with the plants, and you found yourself watching him sometimes, noticing the way he seemed to move with the rhythm of the earth.

Conversations began to bloom between the two of you, small at first—a comment about the soil, a shared observation about a plant’s growth. But over time, you began to talk about other things. Life. The temple. The world beyond its walls, which felt like a distant dream. Hironobu listened more than he spoke, his quiet presence a balm to your often lonely existence.

You found yourself drawn to him in ways you hadn’t anticipated. Not in the same way you were tied to Sukuna, but in something softer, something more human. Hironobu didn’t see you as a concubine or as someone living in the shadow of Hiromi. He saw you as you were—a person. A soul, just like him.

There was no pretense with him. No judgment. Just quiet understanding.

In the afternoons, you would find him in the garden, kneeling by the plants, his fingers brushing against the earth as if he were communicating with it. You would sit nearby, watching him work, feeling a peace you hadn’t known in years. It was a strange thing, this growing connection between the two of you.

You weren’t sure when it had started—perhaps from the very first time he smiled at you, or perhaps later, when you noticed that being with him felt different than with anyone else.

With Hironobu, the garden began to feel like a sanctuary again, not just from Sukuna or the other concubines, but from your own loneliness. The space that had once been yours alone became something shared, and in that sharing, something beautiful blossomed—a quiet companionship, a bond that grew in the shadow of the vermillion blossoms.

For the first time in a long while, you felt like you weren’t completely alone. Hironobu was there, steady and calm, tending to the garden as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And with each passing day, you found yourself growing closer to him, drawn to the gentle abundance of his presence.

One late afternoon, as the sun began to dip beyond the horizon, casting long shadows across the garden, you found yourself kneeling beside Hironobu. He was carefully pruning one of the flowering shrubs, his focus entirely on the delicate task. You watched him for a moment in silence, taking in the way his hands moved with precision, the soft rustle of leaves under his touch.

“You’ve done wonders with this place, Hironobu.” you finally said, your voice breaking the quiet. “I barely recognize it anymore. It feels… alive again.”

Hironobu glanced up, offering a small smile. “It was always alive, thanks to your good work, my lady. It just needed a little bit more care.”

You could feel warmth brush against your cheek as you nodded, brushing your fingers along the edge of a flower petal. “I couldn’t have managed it on my own. I’m grateful that you’re here.”

There was a moment of quiet between you, the air filled with the soft hum of the garden’s life. Hironobu set down his tools and wiped his hands on a cloth, then looked at you with an expression that was both kind and thoughtful.

“You speak as if you’re alone here, my lady.” he said quietly. “But you’re not. Not anymore.”

His words settled between you, a truth that you hadn’t fully realized until now. The loneliness that had once pressed down on you had lifted, little by little, ever since he arrived.

“I suppose… I’ve gotten used to being alone.” you admitted, your voice softer than before. “It’s been that way for so long. Even when I was with lord Sukuna, surrounded by people, it was always the same. The others… they hated me. And lady Hiromi……” You hesitated, glancing at the distant temple where her statues stood in silent vigil. “She’s everywhere.”

Hironobu’s gaze followed yours, but he said nothing for a moment. Instead, he sat back on his heels and watched you with a gentle patience that you had come to value. You could tell that he had some fondness for Hiromi.

Who wouldn’t? His parents must have told her of the good deeds of Ryomen Hiromi. You were but a nobody and Hiromi, she was immortal to the people, to the land. You were an outsider to these people.

“Do you resent lady Hiromi, my lady?” he asked quietly, his tone free of judgment.

You shook your head, though the truth of it weighed heavily on you. “No. I can’t. How could I? Lord Sukuna loved her. And she is kind and generous, she was genuine, I am sure. But I…..I’m… I’m only here because I remind him of her.”

Hironobu’s brow furrowed slightly, his eyes thoughtful. “And yet, he chose to keep you close. To give you this hall, this garden. That’s not something he does for everyone, my lady. You are important to our lord.”

“Maybe.” You sighed, the weight of your situation pressing down on you once more. “But it’s not love. I doubt it was. Not like it was with lady Hiromi.”

There was a long pause as you both sat in the quiet of the garden, the only sound the soft breeze moving through the leaves.

“Do you wish it was, my lady?” Hironobu asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You turned to look at him, surprised by the question. His eyes were steady, sincere. It wasn’t the first time you’d wondered that yourself. Would it be easier if Sukuna truly loved you? If you weren’t just a replacement for a woman who was no longer here?

But as you looked into Hironobu’s eyes, the answer felt more complicated than it ever had before.

“I don’t know, Hironobu.” you admitted, your voice quiet. “Maybe at first, I did. But now… I’m not sure it matters.”

Hironobu’s expression softened, and he nodded as if he understood. “Love doesn’t always come in the way we expect it to, my lady.”

You met his gaze, feeling a strange warmth bloom in your chest. There was something about the way he said it, the way his words felt more like an invitation than a simple observation.

“I suppose not.” you murmured.

A comfortable silence fell between you again, and after a few moments, Hironobu stood and extended a hand to help you up. You took it, feeling the warmth of his palm against yours, and for a moment, you stood there together in the quiet of the garden.

“Shall we finish up for today?” he asked, his voice gentle.

You nodded, but as you turned to leave, you couldn’t help but glance back at him. “Hironobu?”

He paused, looking at you curiously. “Yes, my lady?”

“I don’t think I could have done this without you.” you said, your voice soft but sincere. “Not just the garden. Everything.”

A small, genuine smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “You’re not alone anymore, my lady. I hope you may remember that.”

You held his gaze for a moment longer before nodding, a quiet understanding passing between you. As you walked back toward the hall, you couldn’t help but feel that something had shifted. Not just in the garden, but between you and Hironobu as well. The distance that once separated you felt smaller, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a glimmer of hope.

Perhaps, in the gentle abundance of his presence, you had found something you hadn’t been looking for. Something that, unlike the garden, wouldn’t fade with time.

══════════════════

YOU STARTED TO ENJOY GARDENING WITH SOMEONE. As the days passed in the garden, you and Hironobu grew closer. His laughter filled the spaces that had long been silent, echoing in the air like a sweet melody that danced among the blossoms.

Each shared moment became a thread weaving into the fabric of your existence, bringing warmth and light into your life. The garden, once a sanctuary of solitude and melancholy, transformed into a vibrant tapestry of color and life under his gentle care.

You found yourself eagerly anticipating his visits, counting down the hours until he would arrive, a basket in hand, ready to tend to the plants that flourished under his skilled touch.

The sunlight seemed to brighten when he stepped through the gates of the vermilion hall, illuminating not just the petals of the flowers but your heart as well. Each time he smiled, it felt as though the world around you bloomed anew, and you began to notice the small joys that had previously gone unnoticed—the way the sun filtered through the leaves, the gentle rustle of the wind, and the songs of birds fluttering above.

Conversations flowed easily between you, often starting with the mundane aspects of gardening—discussing the best ways to prune the roses or debating which herbs to plant next. But as you both shared stories and laughter, the dialogue deepened, revealing layers of your souls. Hironobu spoke of his childhood, his dreams of becoming a skilled gardener, and the joy he found in nurturing life. You opened up about your life in the temple, the challenges you faced as Sukuna’s concubine, and the bittersweet longing you felt for freedom.

“Do you remember the first time you showed me how to care for the orchids?” you asked one day, recalling the way he had patiently guided your hands, teaching you the delicate art of nurturing the fragile blooms.

Hironobu chuckled, a warm, rich sound that resonated in your chest. “You were a quick learner. I think you were more excited about getting your hands dirty than the flowers themselves!”

You smiled at the memory, the image of dirt smudged across your palms and the way his eyes had sparkled with amusement. “Maybe I just liked spending time with you,” you replied, your heart racing at your own boldness.

His gaze softened, and you could see a flicker of something deeper in his eyes—something that hinted at unspoken feelings. “I like spending time with you too. You make this place feel alive. It’s more than just the plants; it’s the way you see beauty in everything, even in the shadows.”

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, filling the hollow spaces within your heart that had long been empty. You found yourself blushing, the warmth of his gaze igniting a spark of hope in your chest. In those moments, the weight of your circumstances seemed to lift, if only for a while. You felt cherished, seen, and—dare you think it—truly happy.

Yet, as the days turned into weeks, you were reminded of the solitude that lingered beneath this newfound joy. While Hironobu brought a lightness to your life, there was still an underlying ache, a reminder that this connection, as precious as it felt, existed in a world defined by shadows.

One afternoon, as you and Hironobu knelt side by side in the garden, tending to a patch of vibrant marigolds, he paused, his hands resting in the soil. “You know,” he began thoughtfully, “it’s strange how life brings us together in unexpected ways. I never imagined I would find such joy in tending a garden, especially one that belongs to someone as remarkable as you.”

You glanced at him, your heart swelling at the sincerity in his voice. “It’s not just the garden. You’ve brought joy into my life, Hironobu. I can’t remember the last time I felt this… alive.”

His eyes met yours, and in that moment, the world outside the garden faded away. The towering walls of the temple, the looming presence of Sukuna, and the whispers of the other concubines—all of it seemed to vanish, leaving just the two of you, surrounded by the fragrant blooms and the warmth of the sun.

“I wish I could give you more than this, my lady.” Hironobu said softly, his expression earnest. “You deserve to be happy, to feel free. This garden is a refuge, but I want you to feel that way outside of it too.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, the weight of longing and affection intertwining within you. “I… I don’t know what the future holds for me, but right now, I’m grateful for this moment with you, Hironobu.”

One evening, as the sun set in a blaze of oranges and purples, you were gathering a basket of freshly picked herbs when Hironobu approached, his expression unusually serious.

“May I speak with you for a moment?” he asked, his tone almost hesitant.

You set the basket down and nodded, your heart fluttering with curiosity. “Of course. What’s on your mind?”

He took a deep breath, his hands clasped together in front of him. “I want to apologize for what I’m about to say, my lady.” he started, his voice steady but laced with a hint of nervousness. “I know it may change things between us.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “Hironobu, what do you mean?”

He shifted his weight, glancing away as if searching for the right words. “I’ve grown fond of you—more than I intended to. I can no longer pretend that it’s just admiration or friendship.” He paused, his gaze finally meeting yours, filled with an earnestness that made your heart race. “I’m in love with you, my lady.”

The world seemed to pause at his confession. The weight of his words hung in the air between you, and your breath caught in your throat. You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came.

“I know you are married to lord Sukuna, my lady.” he continued, his voice low and filled with regret. “And I never intended to overstep my bounds. But I had to tell you, because hiding it would only cause me more pain and I would not be fair to you, my lady.”

You took a step back, your mind racing. “Hironobu, I—”

“Please, my lady.” he interrupted gently, raising a hand to stop you. “I don’t expect anything from you. I just needed you to know how I feel. You deserve to know that you’ve brought joy into my life, more than I could ever have imagined. And if you cannot return those feelings, I will understand. I just… I couldn’t keep it to myself anymore.”

The sincerity in his eyes made your heart ache. You felt a mixture of emotions—surprise, fear, and an undeniable warmth that surged through you at his words.

“I never wanted to put you in this position, Hironobu.” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “I’ve enjoyed our time together so much, but I… I’m married to lord Sukuna. You know how he is.”

“Of course, my lady.” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “But that doesn’t change how I feel. I just thought… perhaps there was a chance you might feel the same way.”

You swallowed hard, the reality of your situation crashing down on you like a wave. Sukuna was a force of nature, and while your relationship with him was complex, it was rooted in years of shared history—of loyalty and duty.

But here was Hironobu, his honesty and vulnerability laid bare before you. He was a breath of fresh air in your life, and the connection you shared felt like a balm to the wounds of your past.

“I—” you began, searching for the right words. “You make me feel seen, Hironobu. Happy. But this isn’t simple. I can’t just—”

“I don’t want you to feel pressured, my lady.” he said, stepping closer, concern etched on his features. “I expect nothing. I only wanted to be honest about my feelings. And take care of you, my lady. You deserve that much.”

You took a deep breath, the weight of your emotions almost overwhelming. “I appreciate your honesty. It means a lot to me, truly. But I can’t deny that this is all very complicated. I never intended for this to happen.”

“I understand, my lady.” he replied, his eyes filled with a mixture of hope and sadness. “Whatever happens, I want you to know that I’ll be here for you. I care about you, and I want to help you in any way I can. I will be your servant, for as long as I live.”

In that moment, something shifted between you. The air felt charged with unspoken possibilities, and though the path ahead was uncertain, the connection you had with Hironobu felt undeniable. You might not have the answers now, but there was a warmth in the garden that promised a new beginning.

“I see.” you said softly, your heart pounding.

“My lady, I adore you. I always will.” Hironobu said, giving you a small, reassuring smile. “I’ll always be here, tending to the garden—and to you.”

As he turned to leave, you watched him go, your heart racing with a mixture of fear and excitement. You couldn’t help but wonder what this new chapter might hold, not just for you, but for both of you. In the garden’s gentle embrace, you felt a sense of hope begin to bloom, fragile yet persistent.

══════════════════

YOU THINK YOU’VE NEVER BEEN THE PERSON TO PRAY. But in the past ten years, you found yourself finding relief in prayer. It reminds you of your mother’s piety, of your father’s mumbling whispers to the gods, your brothers and sisters sitting beside you.

You haven’t seen them in ten years. But you wish they were well. And even if you don’t see them anymore, this gives you relief.

You knelt in the inner sanctum of the temple, bowing your head in prayer before the statue of Bishamon. Your lips moved silently, asking for a clear mind, but no matter how hard you prayed, you could not banish the thought from your head—Hironobu, your loyal gardener, had confessed his love to you.

It had taken you by surprise. You were Sukuna's concubine. You could not be with Hironobu. And yet, he made you happy in a way you hadn’t known was possible, and your heart was torn. To tell Sukuna was out of the question. If he knew, he could kill Hironobu without hesitation. You shivered at the thought.

The flickering light from the temple’s lanterns cast shadows on the walls, their soft glow doing little to soothe the turmoil raging inside you. How could something so pure—a love untainted by power and possession—be so wrong? How could you feel joy when the very thought of it put Hironobu’s life in peril?

Your mind returned to that moment, the way his eyes had softened when he spoke his feelings, the tenderness in his voice. He had always been gentle, always there with a quiet presence, nurturing the garden you so often found peace in. And now, he wants to nurture you. But you were Sukuna’s, bound to him by fear and something you could never quite define as love. Duty, perhaps. A twisted form of devotion. But love? That was not something you could claim to feel for the man who held you in his iron grip.

A soft breeze swept through the temple, brushing against your skin like a whisper, and you closed your eyes, imagining for a moment what life might be like if things were different. If you could run. If you could be free. But such thoughts were dangerous, reckless even, and you knew you would never act on them.

Just then, you heard footsteps behind you, a familiar presence that made your breath catch. Sukuna.

"I didn’t know you prayed," his voice cut through the silence like a blade, deep and commanding, bringing you back to the harsh reality of your situation.

Your heart raced as you slowly rose from your knees, turning to face him. He stood in the dim light, towering over you as always, his gaze sharp and penetrating.

"I did not take you for a pious woman," Sukuna continued, his eyes narrowing slightly, scrutinizing you.

"Piety is a comfort, my lord," you replied quietly, your voice steady despite the storm in your chest. "It eases the soul to have someone that listens."

Sukuna’s eyes flicked toward the statue of Bishamon for a moment before returning to you. "Hm," he muttered, unimpressed, though his gaze lingered on you longer than usual. "Then do you pray to me?"

You blinked, taken aback by the question. "What do you mean, my lord?"

Sukuna stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, his eyes dark and intense. "Am I not a god?" he asked, his tone low and dangerous. "Your god?"

For a moment, your breath faltered, but then you gathered yourself. You had to be careful. You had to choose your words wisely. A soft, almost bitter smile tugged at your lips. "My lord," you whispered, meeting his gaze with a quiet defiance, "do I not worship you already? Does my entire existence, my suffering, my love for you—" your voice grew quieter, but sharper, "—is it not enough worship for you as my god?"

Sukuna’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening, but he said nothing. His gaze remained locked on yours, and for the first time in your life, you saw something close to uncertainty flicker in his eyes.

But you did not feel victorious. You felt hollow. Because no matter what you said, no matter how sharp your words were, you were still bound to him. Still trapped.

And Hironobu? He would never be yours.

The silence between you and Sukuna stretched on, thick with tension. His gaze remained locked on you, unyielding, as though searching for something deeper within you—some trace of weakness, some sign of betrayal. But you stood tall, your heart pounding in your chest. You couldn’t let him see your turmoil, couldn’t let him suspect that anyone had stirred your heart, least of all someone as lowly as a gardener.

Sukuna’s lips curled into a smirk, though there was no amusement in his eyes. “Careful with your tongue, woman,” he said softly, but the threat in his voice was unmistakable. “There are limits to even my patience.”

You bowed your head slightly, a gesture of submission. “Of course, my lord. Forgive me if my words displeased you.”

He watched you for a moment longer, his gaze piercing through your very soul, before turning away, his crimson robes trailing behind him as he walked toward the temple’s entrance. For a moment, you allowed yourself to breathe, thinking he was leaving, that the conversation had come to an end.

But then he stopped.

“You seem… distant, little one.” Sukuna remarked, his voice casual but laced with suspicion. He didn’t turn to face you, but you could feel his eyes on you, even without seeing them. “Something troubles you.”

Your heart froze. Did he know? Could he sense the conflict within you?

“No, my lord.” you replied quickly, too quickly, the lie on your lips before you could think. “I am merely tired.”

“Tired? This does not seem to be you, little one.” he repeated, his tone dripping with disbelief. Slowly, he turned to face you, and the way his eyes bore into yours made your pulse quicken. “I don’t believe you.”

Your throat tightened as you scrambled for something, anything, to say. “I—”

Before you could finish, Sukuna took a step closer, closing the distance between you in an instant. His hand shot out, grabbing your chin with a roughness that made you wince, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“I am not someone who tolerates deceit, little one.” he growled, his face mere inches from yours. “If something weighs on your mind, you will tell me. Now.”

The air around you felt suffocating, your mind racing with thoughts of Hironobu. You couldn’t tell him. You couldn’t. The truth would mean death—for Hironobu, perhaps for you as well. But Sukuna’s grip tightened, his impatience growing, and you knew you had to give him something.

“I am troubled, my lord. you admitted, your voice shaking slightly. “But it is not something that concerns you, my lord.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but still suspicious. “Everything about you concerns me. You belong to me.”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to hold his gaze. “It is only… the weight of my life, my place here. Nothing more.”

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed, his grip on your chin loosening slightly. “Your place is exactly where I put you, little one.” he said coldly, his fingers trailing down your neck in a way that made your skin crawl. “Do not forget that.”

“I haven’t, my lord. You must not have to worry.” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

For a moment, he seemed to study you, searching your face for signs of rebellion, of disobedience. But then, slowly, he released you, taking a step back. You wonder if it was relief or it was disappointment you truly feel — knowing that he does not ask, that he lets you go. You purse your lips in a tight line. But you know that he does not wish to notice it.

“Good.” he muttered, turning away once more. “Do not forget who holds your life in their hands.”

With that, he strode toward the exit, his presence leaving the room like a dark cloud finally lifting. You stood there, frozen, the echoes of his words reverberating through your mind. He didn’t know. Not yet.

But how long could you keep this secret? How long before Sukuna’s suspicions became too great, before he began digging for the truth? You had already slipped too close to the edge today, and it terrified you to think of how much closer you might come tomorrow.

And Hironobu… how could you ever look at him again, knowing the danger your feelings for him brought? Knowing that Sukuna’s wrath could fall upon him at any moment?

A tear slipped down your cheek, but you quickly wiped it away. There was no room for weakness. Not here. Not in Sukuna’s world. But in the quiet recesses of your heart, where Sukuna could not reach, the thought of Hironobu lingered—like a fleeting ray of light in a dark, unyielding storm.

══════════════════

YOU HAD EXCUSED YOURSELF FROM DINNER EARLY. And you could not take too much food when you were in Sukuna’s chambers. That had concerned Sukuna, even if he did not want to show it. You were a human being after all. And if anything was wrong with you, it concerns Sukuna. You were his. You were a part of him.

And if a part of him was unwell, he must ensure its settled. Ryomen Sukuna had not meant to stay long when he visited Vermillion hall, your residence. He had come for something trivial, something that now seemed insignificant as his eyes fell upon you.

He stood in the shadows, watching from a distance, concealed by the thick trees lining the garden. You didn’t notice him; your attention was entirely on that servant, that Hironobu. He could feel the air punched out of his chest.

The way you smiled at him, laughed softly at something he said—it was a smile Sukuna had never seen on your face before. Genuine, unguarded, free. Happy. In the truest sense.

That wretched low life Hironobu knelt beside you, tending to the flowers, his hands moving carefully as he spoke to you. There was no fear in his eyes, no hesitation. No, Sukuna could understand it. It was the tenderness he had when he looked at Hiromi. He looked at you as if you were the only thing that mattered in the world.It was love. It was adoration. It was devotion. Sukuna’s chest tightened painfully, and his fists clenched at his sides.

What was this feeling? A tug, something sharp and bitter gnawing at him, growing stronger the longer he watched you with Hironobu. He wasn’t used to this—this strange, almost foreign sensation. He knew anger, jealousy, possession. But this… this felt different. More unsettling

He wonders now, if he’s ever seen that smile on your face when you look at him. If you’ve ever truly been happy in the grace of his existence. But somehow, within the depths of what remains in his heart, there was pain. There was jealousy. There was anguish. There was grief. And he didn’t know why. He didn’t know why he felt like this. His heart had long died. Died with his beloved Hiromi and yet….

His face contorted into a scowl, his jaw tightening. He turned sharply on his heel, his robes whipping through the air as he left without a word. The sight of you with Hironobu left an acid taste in his mouth, and though he hated to admit it, it bothered him in a way he could not explain.

That next morning, he summoned you to break his fast with him—even rarer than supping with him.

When you arrived, the room was dimly lit from the shading silk, the atmosphere thick with something you couldn’t quite place. Ryomen Sukuna sat at the head of the long table, his scarlet eyes dark, his expression unreadable.

You felt a cold knot in your stomach as you approached him, the air between you tense and charged. You were not hungry. You could not feel any pleasure knowing that he was staring at you that way.

“My lord, I greet you with fervent devotion.” you said softly, bowing slightly before taking your place at the table. He didn’t respond immediately, simply watching you with that same piercing gaze that always made you feel exposed.

The silence stretched on, oppressive and heavy, before he finally spoke. “I visited Vermillion Hall last night.”

Your heart skipped a beat. The way he said it, the deliberate pause—it sent a wave of dread washing over you. “I… I was unaware of your visit, my lord.” you replied carefully, trying to keep your voice steady. “You must forgive me if I had not noticed.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “Clearly.”

You shifted in your seat, sensing the trap closing in around you. There was a tension in Sukuna that you had rarely seen, something simmering beneath the surface. You remained in your position, feeling a bile stuck on the edge of your throat.

You could feel the sweat fervent on your palm as you gripped your kimono tenderly, hoping he would not notice the tension and fear in you.

“I saw you, little one.” he continued, his tone low and almost too calm. “With that lowly thief of a servant...what was his name....ah yes, Hironobu.”

Your blood ran cold at his words.

You knew what your husband was like.

You had made a mistake, you knew that well.

“I saw how happy you were with him, little one.” Sukuna said, his voice tightening ever so slightly, though his expression remained controlled. “Smiling, laughing, as if there were no worries in the world. It’s a wonder I’ve never seen you look that way with me.”

His words stung, even though you knew better than to show it. You lowered your gaze, knowing you were walking a very fine line. You knew him too well. He considered you a part of him, the god he is.

And everything, it has to be about him. Your existence was taught to worship him. Loving him was the law, even if he would not give it back. And you could not have the same, you know that.

“I—he was simply tending to the garden, my lord. We merely… spoke as we often do. It was a mere passing laugh and enjoyment.”

“Is that all?” Sukuna asked, his voice taking on a dangerous edge. “Because from where I stood, it seemed more than that, little one.”

You swallowed hard, your hands trembling slightly as you clenched them under the table. You couldn’t lie, not to him. But the truth—how could you explain the way you felt with Hironobu without damaging yourself?

“My lord, I beg for your understanding.” you began, carefully choosing your words. “Hironobu is kind and loyal to me, to you. He tends to the garden and offers his company when I walk, to ensure that he could care for you in caring for me. Nothing more, my lord.”

Sukuna’s eyes flickered with something dark and unreadable. “Kindness?” he sneered, leaning back in his chair. “Is that what makes you smile like that? Is that what makes you laugh so freely? How easy are you, little one? Do you offer such a thing to everyone, is it necessary, little one?”

“My lord—”

You opened your mouth to respond, but his voice cut through the air again, sharper this time. “Do you think I am blind? That I cannot see what’s happening under my own roof?”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you looked up at him, meeting his furious gaze. He wasn’t just angry. No, there was something deeper, something more dangerous. Hurt. Betrayal. You wonder why he feels this way. He had it clear even ten years ago that his heart had died. And that he was a god.

Because how could that be? Ryomen Sukuna was not someone to feel such things, to be vulnerable to them. And yet, as he stared at you, the fury in his scarlet eyes was laced with something raw.

“Answer me, little one.” he demanded, his voice low and threatening. “Is he more to you than just a gardener?”

The truth was clawing at your throat, begging to be let out, but you knew what it would mean. Hironobu would die. Sukuna would never allow it, would never tolerate even the hint of disobedience or disloyalty from you. And yet… Could you lie to him again?

“My lord,he is nothing but a servant tied to me to grace your glory.” you whispered, your voice trembling. “You know…you know I would never betray you, my lord.”

He watched you for a moment. It was then where Sukuna stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor as he rose to his full, imposing height. He stalked toward you, his scarlet eyes blazing, and you felt a cold sweat break across your skin.

“If I find out otherwise, little one.” he growled, his hand grabbing your chin, tilting your face up to his. “Hironobu’s kindness won’t be enough to save him. And you—” his voice dropped to a menacing whisper. “—you will know exactly what it means to displease me. You know me the best out of those fools in the concubine hall, do you not? You must know what I am willing to do.”

His grip on your chin tightened for a moment before he let you go, leaving you breathless, terrified, and more trapped than ever. You tried to calm yourself, you know you cannot show more. You cannot appear weak, not like this.

Sukuna’s wrath hung over you like a storm, and as he turned and walked away, you were left with the suffocating knowledge that your secret was on the verge of unraveling.

As Sukuna stormed out of the room, the sliding door nearly breaking along the path he left behind him, you remained frozen in your seat. The air was thick with his lingering presence, the scent of incense mixing with the oppressive tension that still hung over you. Your hands, resting in your lap, trembled uncontrollably. You felt the weight of Sukuna’s warning, his threat echoing in your mind.

Hironobu.

The thought of him twisted your heart painfully. You had always known the danger that came with even the slightest hint of affection for another man, but Sukuna had never been this close to the truth before. His suspicion was like a sword dangling over both your heads, ready to strike at any moment.

You rose from the table slowly, your legs unsteady beneath you. The silence of the grand dining hall was suffocating, every step you took feeling heavier than the last. You could barely think, barely breathe. All you could do was replay Sukuna’s words in your mind. The anger, the possessiveness—and something else. The hurt.

Could it be that Sukuna, the mighty king of curses, had actually been wounded by what he saw? You had always believed that you were just another possession to him, another piece in his vast collection of power and control. But tonight, there had been something deeper in his voice, something almost vulnerable.

And that terrified you even more.

When you reached the privacy of your chambers, you collapsed onto the bed, your body trembling from the weight of the evening. Your heart raced as you tried to steady your breath, but it was no use. Every time you close your eyes, you see Hironobu’s face, his warm, gentle smile—and Sukuna’s cold, furious gaze.

What were you going to do? You couldn’t abandon Hironobu. The thought of him being killed because of you, because of a love you couldn’t deny, was unbearable. And yet, if Sukuna found out, there would be no mercy. Not for either of you.

A soft knock at your door pulled you from your thoughts, and you quickly sat up, brushing away the stray tears that had escaped. “You may enter.” you called, trying to keep your voice steady.

The door creaked open, and to your surprise, it was Hironobu who stepped inside. His expression was calm, as it always was, but there was a softness in his eyes that made your chest tighten. Tension passes through you as much as fear does. You cover yourself with the blankets, as though to shield you from the vulnerability you feel for him.

“You shouldn’t be here, Hironobu.” you whispered, panic rising in your throat. “It is not allowed. This is not…..It’s too dangerous.”

“I know, my lady.” Hironobu replied quietly, closing the door behind him. He crossed the room in a few quick strides and knelt beside you, his hand reaching out to gently take yours. “But I had to see you. I heard that lord Sukuna summoned you and everyone was whispering about him. He was mad, and I was worried that he could harm you, my lady.”

You looked into his eyes, the warmth and sincerity in them a stark contrast to the cold, terrifying presence of Sukuna. For a brief moment, being with Hironobu felt like a balm to the storm raging in your heart. But the danger was too real, too imminent.

“My lord will not hurt me. You must know this.” You wonder if you were saying the right words. Ryomen Sukuna has hurt you. He always has, even if he does not lay a hand on you. “You must trust that.”

“My lady, still—”

“Hironobu.” you began, your voice breaking slightly. “Lord Sukuna saw us in the garden the other day.”

Hironobu’s face paled, but he didn’t let go of your hand. “What did my lord say?”

You shook your head, feeling tears prick at your eyes again. “He’s warned me. He said he saw how happy I was with you, how I smiled while we gardened today. He asked if you were more than just a gardener and servant to me.”

Hironobu’s hand tightened around yours. “And what did you tell him, my lady?”

“I told him I would never betray him. That we are only enjoying the garden together.” you whispered, the weight of your words heavy on your tongue. “But I don’t know how much longer I can keep him at bay to keep you safe. He’s watching us, Hironobu. I do not want him to hurt you, over your kindness and friendship and I fear for you—”

“I won’t let him hurt you, my lady.” Hironobu interrupted, his voice firm but gentle. “I’ll leave if I have to. I won’t risk your life.”

“No, no.” you said quickly, gripping his hand tighter. “You can’t leave. That would only make him more suspicious. You are bound to me as a servant. My lord will be suspicious.”

Tears finally spilled over, and you tried to wipe them away, but Hironobu cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing your cheeks softly. “We’ll figure this out, my lady. Do not be afraid.” he said softly, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. “We have to be careful, even in our friendship, but I won’t let him take you away from me.”

The intensity of his words made your heart ache, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to lean into his touch, to forget the danger, if only for a fleeting second. Being with Hironobu felt like a sanctuary, a place where you could be free from Sukuna’s suffocating grip.

But as much as you wanted to stay in this moment, you knew it couldn’t last. Ryomen Sukuna’s shadow loomed over everything, and no matter how careful you were, it was only a matter of time before he would find out the truth. One way or another, even if you had rejected Hironobu, Sukuna will end up being angry. And he would kill him. He would kill him and that would break you.

“I’m afraid, Hironobu.” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up. Not having a life of my own.”

He leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours. “You’re stronger than you think, my lady.” he murmured. “We’ll find a way, even if it means we have to run.”

You shook your head slightly. “He would find us. You know he would.”

Hironobu didn’t argue. He knew the truth as well as you did. Ryomen Sukuna’s reach was vast, his power unmatched. There was no escaping him, not really.

But for now, in the quiet of your chambers, with Hironobu beside you, you allowed yourself to cling to the hope that somehow, some way, you could protect the fragile love you had found. Even if the world around you was crumbling.

The door creaked again, but before you could react, a cold voice sliced through the air.

“I told you, little one.” Sukuna’s voice was low, deadly, as he stepped out of the shadows, his eyes burning with fury, “there are limits to my patience.”

Your heart stopped.

You felt frozen in place.

He had seen everything.

The room felt as though it had been plunged into icy darkness the moment Sukuna stepped forward. His presence filled the air, suffocating, his crimson gaze searing into both you and Hironobu. The warmth you had felt moments before vanished, replaced by a cold, gnawing dread that clawed at your throat.

You stood up quickly, your heart hammering in your chest. "My lord—"

Sukuna’s eyes flicked to you, and the fury in them made your blood run cold. His face was a mask of controlled rage, but there was a darkness beneath the surface, threatening to spill over.

“I warned you, little one.” he growled, his voice low and dangerous, each word like a blade slicing through the air. His attention shifted to Hironobu, who had risen to his feet but made no move to defend himself. There was a strange calm in Hironobu’s expression, but you could see the tension in his body, the readiness for whatever was to come.

“My lord, please.” you begged, stepping forward, your voice trembling. “Please don’t hurt him. He had done nothing wrong.”

Sukuna’s eyes snapped back to you, narrowing. “Do you think your pleas mean anything to me now?” His voice dripped with contempt. “You’ve lied to me. You betrayed me. And for what? A mere gardener?”

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you forced yourself to stay calm, to keep speaking even though your heart was breaking with fear. “He didn’t—he didn’t do anything wrong, my lord. This is my fault.”

Sukuna’s lips twisted into a sneer. “Your fault? Oh, I know it’s your fault. You allowed this to happen. You let him think he could take what is mine.”

Your breath hitched. The possessiveness in the god Ryomen Sukuna echoed in his voice was suffocating, and you knew he was on the edge of doing something irreversible. Desperation clawed at you as you stepped closer, falling to your knees before him.

“Please, my lord. Please. This is not….” you whispered, bowing your head, your hands trembling as you reached out, barely daring to touch the hem of his robe. “I beg you—don’t hurt him. He… he only cares for me. It’s not his fault.”

Sukuna stared down at you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, there was silence—an unbearable, suffocating silence that made your chest tighten with fear. You couldn’t bring yourself to look up at him, terrified of what you might see in his eyes.

“I should kill him where he stands,little one.” Sukuna said softly, though his voice was filled with venom. “I should make you watch as I tear him apart, so you understand the price of defiance.”

You gasped, your heart shattering at the thought. “No! Please, my lord, no!”

But before you could continue, Sukuna moved faster than you could react, his hand shooting out and grabbing Hironobu by the throat. The sound of Hironobu’s breath choking in his lungs was like a knife to your heart.

“My lord, please. Please, please—Sukuna!” you screamed, rushing to your feet, your hands trembling as you reached for him. “Please, no! I’ll do anything—anything! Just don’t kill him!”

Sukuna’s grip tightened, his gaze never leaving Hironobu’s face. “Anything?” he repeated, his voice cold and mocking. “What makes you think you have anything left to offer me, after this?”

Tears streamed down your face as you fell to your knees once more, your voice breaking. “I’ll take whatever you impose upon me, my lord—I’ll never speak to him again! Or any one else I swear to you, my lord! Just… please, don’t take his life. It’s my fault. I should have known better. I’ll do anything you ask, my lord. Just spare his life. He had done nothing wrong.”

Sukuna’s grip on Hironobu’s throat loosened slightly, but his eyes remained locked on you, watching your every movement, every tear that fell from your eyes. His lips curled into a cruel smile, but there was no warmth, no mercy in it. He was enjoying this, owning you.

“Is that what you think will save him?” Sukuna asked, his tone soft, dangerous. “Your submission? Your devotion? Little one, I own you. I do not give your submission. You give it willingly. You know that.”

You nodded frantically, your voice a desperate whisper. “Yes… yes, my lord. But I swear to you. I swear, my lord. I’ll submit to you in every way. I won’t resist, I won’t fight. I would continue to be devoted to you, only you. Just spare him, please.”

Ryomen Sukuna’s gaze flickered between you and Hironobu, his hand still wrapped around the gardener’s throat. The tension in the room was unbearable, and you could barely breathe as you waited for his decision. You feel like you were going to collapse, as you stopped breathing waiting for him to say anything.

For what felt like an eternity, Sukuna said nothing. The silence was deafening, the weight of his power crushing you under its force. You knew that he could kill Hironobu in an instant, with a single flick of his hand. And yet… there was something holding him back.

Finally, Sukuna’s fingers released their hold on Hironobu, and he stepped back, letting the man fall to his knees, gasping for breath. But the danger hadn’t passed. Sukuna’s gaze was still fixed on you, dark and dangerous.

“Get out of my sight.” Sukuna snarled at Hironobu. “If I see you near her again, I’ll tear you apart without hesitation. And there will be no more mercy.”

Hironobu, though clearly shaken, managed to stand, casting a glance at you, his eyes filled with both relief and sorrow. You gave him a small, trembling nod, urging him to leave while he still could. Without a word, he turned and disappeared through the door.

The moment he was gone, Ryomen Sukuna’s attention snapped back to you, and the full weight of his fury descended upon you.

“Don’t think for a moment that this is over, little one.” he said, his voice low and menacing. “You think I’ll just forget this? That I’ll let you off with a warning?”

You looked up at him, your body trembling. “I know… I know you won’t, my lord.” you whispered. “I’ll accept whatever punishment you see fit. Just… please…”

“Please?” he mocked, leaning down so that his face was level with yours. “You think you can still make requests of me after what I saw today?”

You swallowed hard, your throat dry. “I beg your mercy.”

Sukuna’s lips twisted into a cruel smile, and he reached out, tilting your chin up so that you were forced to meet his gaze. “Mercy, huh.” he repeated, his voice soft, but laced with malice. “You think you deserve mercy after betraying me?”

You shook your head slightly, tears still streaming down your face. “No… I don’t. But Hironobu—he didn’t deserve to die for my mistake.”

For a moment, Sukuna simply stared at you, his eyes burning with a mixture of rage and something darker, something possessive. Then, he released you, standing up straight once more.

“You will never see him again. Never again. And not anyone.” he ordered coldly. “You will stay at my side when asked where you belong. Know your place. And if you ever defy me again, I won’t hesitate to kill him—and you.”

You nodded, your heart breaking as you whispered, “Yes, my lord.”

══════════════════

YOU HADN’T TALKED IN A WHILE. Somehow you think you had forgotten what your voice sounds like. Silence has embraced you, as much as the darkness of the once vibrant Vermillion hall.

After that fateful night, everything changed. You isolated yourself in your chambers, the once-vibrant world of your garden now forbidden territory. Hironobu had vanished, leaving only a painful absence that lingered like a wound that refused to heal.

And there were whispers from the other halls of the temple that Ryomen Sukuna had killed him. You had expected it more or less. But it did not make it any easier. You wept in the silence of your halls.

And you had refused to eat, refused to change your clothes or wash yourself. Days blurred into one another, and the weight of your choices crushed you beneath their unbearable load.

Sukuna did not come to you. He did not summon you to his side. For a time, it felt as though you had become invisible to him, a ghost haunting the halls of the palace. At first, the silence seemed like a blessing; a reprieve from his suffocating presence, from his cruel words and piercing gaze. But as the days wore on, it began to gnaw at you. The solitude was maddening.

The garden that had once been your sanctuary became an unbearable reminder of what you had lost. You couldn’t bear to see the flowers Hironobu had so lovingly tended, the very space where you had felt fleeting moments of happiness. The very thought of stepping outside filled you with dread. You had no desire to face the world, not like this, not without him.

You were trapped—trapped between the suffocating control of Sukuna and the hollow, aching void left by Hironobu’s absence. Every breath you took felt heavier than the last, until even breathing felt like a burden you could no longer bear.

For a time, you thought it would be better to die.

The thought came slowly at first, creeping in like a shadow at the edge of your mind. But the more you dwelled in your isolation, the more it seemed like a mercy—a release from the endless torment of your existence. You had lost everything that mattered. The love you had found with Hironobu was gone, stolen from you by Sukuna’s wrath. And Ryomen Sukuna… he had broken you. His control, his possessiveness, his cruelty had shattered whatever was left of your spirit.

One night, the darkness in your mind swallowed you whole, and you couldn’t fight it any longer.

You had waited until the moon was high, the Vermillion Hall silent. You like to think that Sukuna had ordered everyone to leave you to your loneliness. But it was too late at night. No one came to your chambers anymore. No one would stop you. With shaking hands, you found a length of silk, soft and delicate, and tied it to the ceiling beam.

The precious gold and vermillion silk had been a gift from Ryomen Sukuna long ago. It was the very name of the hall he had gifted you. One of the hardest silks to find and make. It was a symbol of his wealth, his power. And he gifted it to you, a small echo of ownership to you. How ironic, you thought, that it would be the instrument of your final escape.

Tears blurred your vision as you fashioned the knot, your breath coming in ragged gasps. You stood on the edge, your heart pounding in your chest, and for a moment, you hesitated. But the pain in your heart, the unbearable ache of everything you had lost, pushed you forward.

In the cold stillness of that moment, you stepped off the edge.

You woke in a haze, your body weak and aching, the dim light of dawn filtering through the curtains. You weren’t dead. Somehow, impossibly, you were still here. Confusion clouded your mind as you tried to move, but your limbs feel heavy, your throat raw.

And then you saw him.

You weren’t sure the first time.

But you let yourself look again.

Ryomen Sukuna was sitting beside your bed, his presence unmistakable even in the pale morning light. His expression was unreadable, his dark crimson eyes fixed on you with a strange intensity. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. You couldn’t speak well anyway. Your throat hurts.

You had never seen him like this before—silent, unmoving, almost still as a statue. His gaze roamed over you, lingering on the dark bruises around your neck, the evidence of your desperate attempt to escape.

“Why?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous, but there was something else there too—something you couldn’t quite place.

You turned your head away from him, shame and sorrow overwhelming you. You force yourself to speak, even if it hurts. “Because… I can’t live like this anymore, my lord.” you whispered, your voice hoarse. “I’ve lost everything.”

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of something passing over his face. “Everything? Do you think I would allow you to take your life without my permission?”

A pained bitter laugh escaped your lips, though it hurt to do so. “I can’t even die on my own terms?”

Sukuna leaned forward, his hand gripping the edge of the bed with barely controlled rage. “You think death would be an escape from me?” he hissed. “You belong to me, even in death, little one. Running away, it will not save you from me.”

Tears burned at the corners of your eyes, but you couldn’t hold them back any longer. “I belong to no one!” you cried, the words tumbling out in a flood of pain. “Not anymore. Not after what you’ve taken from me.”

For a moment, Sukuna was silent, his expression dark and unreadable. Then, unexpectedly, his voice softened, though it remained cold. “You’re a fool.”

You turned to face him, your eyes red and swollen. “Why? Because I dared to want something else? Because I dared to love someone else? Even as a friend? My lord, I suffered for your sake. Being devoted to you like it is a law. It was…it was just a friend. A friend. And I cannot even have them. What am I to you, my lord? More than…more than someone who suffers worshiping you.”

He stared at you, his gaze penetrating, but he didn’t answer immediately. His fingers brushed against the bruised skin of your neck, and you flinched, but he didn’t pull away. There was a strange, almost possessive tenderness in his touch.

“You think this makes you free?” Sukuna murmured, his voice low. “You’re more mine now than you ever were before, little one.”

You shuddered, his words striking deep. “Why?” you whispered, barely able to hold back the sob in your throat. “Why do you care?”

Sukuna’s eyes burned with an intensity that made you tremble. “Because you’re mine, little one.” he said, his voice a dangerous whisper. “And I do not let go of what is mine so easily.”

There was no warmth in his words, no comfort. But for the first time, you saw something raw in his eyes—something that looked dangerously close to vulnerability. You swallowed hard, your throat aching from both the bruises and the tears.

“Then why did you come?”

Sukuna’s expression shifted ever so slightly, and for a brief moment, you saw a flicker of something in his eyes—something like regret, though he would never admit it. You know that too well. Ten years of marriage to this cruel soul, this cursed man turned god — you would never hear those words of comfort. Not even if you asked.

“Because I won’t let you die, little one.” he said, his voice steady but quieter than you had ever heard it. “Not like this.”

You stared at him, your heart aching with too many conflicting emotions to name. In that moment, you realized something. You were trapped, not just by Sukuna’s power, but by the strange, twisted bond that tied you to him. He would never let you go. Not in life, not in death.

And that thought was more terrifying than anything else.

══════════════════

YOU COULDN’T HELP BUT STARE AT HIM. You weren’t fully recovered from your injuries just yet, but the healers had let you return to your daily life. You had just finished attending to your lord Sukuna in the audience hall. You stopped as he appeared before you, as you changed into more leisure clothing.

And you were unsure what he was saying to you. But the weight of Sukuna's words hung heavy in the air, his gaze as piercing as ever as he stood before you, his expression unreadable. He was not giving you anything, but orders. And you’re curious. As much as you were surprised.

“You will take care of the child, little one.” he said, his tone brooking no argument.

Your breath caught in your throat. “A child? I know nothing about children, my lord.”

Sukuna’s crimson eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of amusement in the corner of his lips. “You will learn.”

For a moment, you stared at him, searching his face for any sign of the usual cruelty, but there was something different this time. This wasn’t a command born purely from spite or possessiveness. It felt heavier, more deliberate, as if he had considered this for a long time. You felt the familiar helplessness rise within you, the sense that you were powerless to refuse him.

“I… I will do as you ask, my lord.” you whispered, defeated. The words felt hollow, but they were the only ones you could manage. Sukuna merely nodded, his expression hard, before turning and leaving the room.

Days passed, and the dread settled deep in your bones as you waited for the child to arrive. You didn’t know what to expect, but Sukuna’s commands were absolute. There was no running from this.

And then, one morning, the child was brought to your chambers.

You stood at the door, frozen, as the small figure stepped forward. Your breath hitched in your chest as you looked down at the little girl before you. Her features were delicate, her long hair falling softly over her shoulders. She couldn’t have been more than five or six years old, but there was something far older in her gaze.

The child looked up at you, her eyes startlingly familiar—crimson, like Sukuna’s. They stared into you with a haunting intensity that made your heart skip a beat. But it wasn’t just Sukuna’s eyes that made you pause. No, there was something else, something that chilled you to your core.

The girl’s face, though youthful and innocent, bore the unmistakable likeness of someone you thought you’d never see again.

Ryomen Hiromi.

Your heart clenched painfully, and the room seemed to spin for a moment. It was impossible, and yet… the girl standing before you had Hiromi’s face—her soft features, her kind eyes, but mixed with the piercing gaze of Sukuna. You’ve seen enough of her statues all around the temple palace that you’re too certain.

You swallowed hard, struggling to comprehend what you were seeing. Your chest felt tight as memories of Hiromi flooded your mind, of the woman you had once known, the one who had been so important to Sukuna.

Ryomen Sukuna entered the room behind the child, his presence like a storm cloud looming over you both. He regarded you with cold detachment, though there was something in his gaze that suggested this was not a simple matter for him either.

“This child…..” Sukuna began, his voice calm but commanding. “is Hiromi’s daughter. The child she lost long ago.”

You stared at him, shock rippling through you. “Hiromi’s… child?”

Sukuna nodded. “I found her soul.” he explained, his voice low and steady. “It was not easy, but with the help of a… trusted friend, I was able to bring her back. Her body grew anew, and now, she is here. Alive. For me to keep, as her father.”

Your mind raced, struggling to grasp what he was saying. Sukuna had brought the child back from the dead—had found her soul and, through some dark means, restored her. And now, this little girl, this child with Sukuna’s eyes and Hiromi’s face, stood before you.

And to be her father? Not only that, but to force you to be a mother. To raise her, knowing how much the ghost of her mother haunts you already. You do not know what to do. You could feel your lips still reflect a gaping hole, wide open in shock.

“Why me?” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Why have you given her to me? Her mother’s kin still lives, my lord. Would they not want to know—”

Sukuna’s gaze darkened, his eyes narrowing slightly. “It does not matter what they want. You will raise her, little one.” he said simply. “You will care for her as if she were your own.”

You took a step back, overwhelmed by the weight of his demand. “But I don’t know how to care for a child, my lord I—”

“You will learn. You are not half–witted, aren’t you?” Sukuna interrupted, his voice sharp. “There is no other choice. I have willed it. And you shall follow it.”

Your lips parted, but no words came out. You wanted to argue, to refuse, but you knew it was futile. There was no escaping Sukuna’s will. He had given you this child, and there was no turning back now.

The girl stood quietly between the two of you, her small hands clasped in front of her, watching the exchange with an unnerving calmness for someone her age. Her eyes—her father’s eyes—bore into you, as if she already knew more than you did, as if she carried the weight of her past life with her. Her mother’s face haunted you already. Why? Why must you be haunted like this?

“This was Hiromi’s child. And I cherish her.” Sukuna said again, more softly this time, as if the words held a deeper significance for him. “Now, she is mine. Mine own daughter. You will raise her for me.”

You could only nod, the enormity of it all crashing down on you like a tidal wave. Sukuna’s presence was suffocating, but the child’s gaze was what unsettled you the most. It was as if Hiromi’s spirit lingered within her, a ghostly reminder of the life Sukuna had shared with her, of a woman who had meant more to him than perhaps you ever could.

And now, you were tasked with caring for the last piece of Hiromi that remained in this world—a child born from tragedy, resurrected by Sukuna’s dark power.

“What is her name?”

He stops for a moment.

“Chiharu.” He says in response. “Ryomen Chiharu.”

“Very well, my lord. I will… do as you ask, my lord. I shall care for your child.” you whispered, your voice trembling as you looked down at the little girl. She met your gaze with those unnerving eyes, and you felt a strange chill creep up your spine.

Sukuna lingered for a moment longer, his gaze flicking between you and the child before turning to leave. As he walked away, his parting words echoed in your mind.

“Do not fail me in this.”

Days turned into weeks as you adjusted to the new rhythm of life with Chiharu, the little girl now under your care. At first, it felt surreal to be responsible for someone so precious yet so fragile, a living reminder of a past life you could barely comprehend. But as time passed, the weight of your circumstances began to feel lighter, replaced by a sense of purpose you hadn’t expected to find.

Young Chiharu was a curious child, with a spirit that seemed undaunted by the complexities of her existence. She often wandered the halls of the palace, her footsteps soft against the cold stone floors, exploring every corner with wide-eyed wonder. It was in those moments that you found yourself drawn to her, your heart softening as she chartered away, her laughter ringing like music in the otherwise somber atmosphere of the palace.

Every evening, you would sit together in the garden in the Vermillion hall—the one place you had once avoided. Underneath the lush foliage, you would share stories, and slowly, you learned more about her.

Chiharu would speak of her dreams, her favorite flowers, and the little things that made her smile. She spoke of animals she wished to have, tales she had heard of distant lands, and the kindness she hoped to find in a world that had been cruel to her before.

As you listened to her, you found yourself revealing bits of your own life, your own fears and desires. With each passing day, the bond between you grew stronger, entwining like the vines in the garden. You shared laughter and quiet moments, and you began to feel a warmth blossom in your heart—a sense of family you had thought lost to you forever.

It was during one of these serene afternoons that Chiharu turned to you, her bright scarlet eyes glinting in the sunlight. “Mama.” she said softly, her small hand reaching for yours.

The word felt foreign, yet sweet on her lips. Her mother was someone that she will never get to know again. You knew were not her mother, you knew that too well. But you felt a swell of warmth in your chest at the sound, as if she had bridged a gap that had long remained unfilled. You were not born to be a mother, you knew you would never be one. And yet, in her eyes — you were. You were born to be her mother.

“Yes, my sweet little flower?” you replied, your heart fluttering at the connection that had formed between you.

“Why did lord Sukuna name me Chiharu?” she asked, her gaze steady and curious.

You paused, contemplating how to answer her question. “Chiharu means a thousand springs, little flower.” you explained gently. “It’s a beautiful name, one that speaks of new beginnings, renewal, and growth.”

The little girl tilted her head, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. “But why did he choose that name for me?”

Your heart ached at the thought of Sukuna’s motivations. “I believe he saw something special in you. Perhaps he wanted to honor your connection to your past, to lady Hiromi. You are her child, Chiharu. And in a way, you are also a part of your lord father.”

“But you are my mother.” You hear little Chiharu whisper.

You did not know what to say.

You try to recover from her words.

You smile, for her sake, you think.

But you smiled for your sake too.

“We are both your mother.” You whispered back to her, putting her stray hair against the back of her ear. “But I am the one here at this moment, little flower.”

You watch her eyes brighten at the thought. “Truly?”

“Truly.” You smiled wider at her.

“What about my father?”

“Hm, what about my lord, little flower?”

Chiharu’s brow furrowed. “Do you think he loves me?”

The question caught you off guard. “I know he cares for you. That’s what I believe. In his own way, he has love.” But none for me.

Her small face lit up with a smile, though it was tinged with innocence and uncertainty. “I want to make him proud.”

A lump formed in your throat at her words. “You already make me proud, sweet flower. And that is what matters most.”

The connection between you and the young girl continued to deepen, woven through shared moments and quiet revelations. You discovered that Chiharu had a talent for painting, her little hands creating vibrant images that brought life to the entirety of the Vermillion hall. And you could not help but find joy in such revelations.

You encouraged her to explore her creativity, and soon, the once-dim walls of your home were adorned with her colorful drawings, depicting flowers, animals, and fantastical creatures. Even if the servants were concerned, you waved such words away. The Vermillion hall looked brighter with the scarlet flowers she drew everywhere.

Ryomen Sukuna would occasionally visit, his presence like a thunderstorm that cast shadows over your peaceful existence. When he did, Chiharu would run to him, her bright scarlet eyes sparkling with delight.

Despite the tension that accompanied his visits, you could see that he had a soft spot for her—a fleeting warmth that illuminated his otherwise cold demeanor. He adored this young girl, more than you know. He had given her such warmth more than anyone you had ever seen.

One evening, as dusk settled over the Vermillion hall, Ryomen Chiharu presented one of her paintings to Sukuna, her little hands trembling with excitement. “Look, lord Sukuna!” she exclaimed, holding up a vibrant depiction of a cherry blossom tree, the one standing in the middle of your never–ending gardens. “It’s for you!”

Sukuna studied the painting, his expression inscrutable, but you could see the flicker of something in his eyes. Perhaps pride, perhaps surprise. “You’ve done well, little blossom.” he said, his tone low and steady. “You had captured the lady’s cherry blossom with exquisite likeness.”

The child beamed at his praise, her cheeks flushed with joy. “Do you like it?”

“It is… acceptable, little blossom.” he replied, and though the words were blunt, there was a hint of approval lingering in his gaze. “I am certain that you will make more.”

You had wished that this was your life.

That you live forever in this moment.

But you knew better than to wish for that.

As the night deepened and the shadows in the grand hall stretched longer, Sukuna rose from his seat, his presence overwhelming as always. You called for Chiharu, who hesitated, her tiny face scrunching up in a pout. She clung to you, reluctant to leave, her voice soft, "I don’t want to go. My lord doesn’t come often anymore… I want to tell him about my day."

You knelt down, brushing your fingers through her hair and smiling gently. "He’ll come tomorrow, just like he promised, little flower." you reassured her, though a small part of you doubted the certainty in your words. She needed that hope, even if it felt fragile.

With one last glance toward Sukuna, Chiharu allowed herself to be led away by the servants, her footsteps fading down the hall. Silence settled between you and Sukuna, thick and awkward at first. He didn’t look at you immediately, instead gazing out into the night through the open windows, as if lost in thought.

“You take good care of her, little one.” Sukuna finally said, his tone gruff but softer than you expected. It was strange hearing thanks from him—it sounded unnatural coming from the King of Curses, yet there was sincerity in the rough edges of his words. "For that… I thank you."

You blinked, the weight of his gratitude sinking in. It felt strange, almost surreal. Sukuna, of all people, expressing appreciation. You inclined your head, accepting it quietly. "It’s nothing, my lord. She deserves the best care."

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable this time, though. Instead, it felt like a mutual acknowledgment of the one thing you shared—a fondness for Chiharu.

You’ll never love me. you thought, the truth of it sitting heavy in your heart. But you didn’t need to say it aloud. You already knew. Still, the small moments like these, where his walls slipped just enough for you to catch a glimpse of something more, were what you held onto. You treasured whatever you could get, however fleeting.

Sukuna’s gaze finally met yours. It was sharp, piercing as always, but there was something softer lingering beneath his usual coldness. "I’ll come tomorrow. Like I promised."

And for tonight, that was enough.

After he departed, you drank a little.

It was better to mourn what could not be early.

When Chiharu returned, well bathed and dressed for the night, the two of you sat together beneath the cherry blossom tree in the garden. She had to dry her hair before she could get some rest. Her small hands clutching the other painting she had made tightly.

“Do you think he really liked it?” she asked, her voice soft.

You smiled gently at her, cupping her face in your hands. “I believe he did. He may not show it, but he cares for you in his own way. You are a light in his life, little flower.”

Her eyes sparkled with hope, and for a moment, you felt a sense of unity in your small family, a connection that defied the darkness surrounding you.

As the petals fell around you like confetti, you realized that despite the chaos of your circumstances, you had created a sanctuary for both yourself and Chiharu—one filled with laughter, art, and the promise of new beginnings.

And in those moments, as the sun dipped below the horizon, you dared to believe that maybe, just maybe, you could carve out a piece of happiness amidst the shadows.

══════════════════

IT WAS JUST ANOTHER NIGHT. But it was still something that caused you grievance. As night fell and the palace was shrouded in silence, you found yourself restless, wandering the dimly lit halls, your thoughts heavy with the weight of your circumstances.

Chiharu slept peacefully in her little room, the faint glow of moonlight spilling through the window, casting soft shadows on her innocent face. You paused to watch her, a smile tugging at your lips, but it was quickly overshadowed by the familiar ache in your chest.

The truth was inescapable: no matter how much joy Ryomen Chiharu brought into your life, the shadow of Hiromi loomed over you like a specter. You couldn’t shake the feeling that everything she represented was a constant reminder of your own insignificance in Sukuna's world.

Hiromi had been the one to hold Sukuna's love, the one whose memory seemed to linger in every corner of the palace. She was the woman who had given him a child—a child who was now the light of his life, while you remained in the dark, clinging to scraps of his attention. It was a bitter thought that twisted in your mind, gnawing at your heart.

As you lay in bed, staring up at the intricately woven patterns on the ceiling, you couldn’t help but compare yourself to Hiromi. She had everything: his love, his devotion, a child who would carry a piece of her with her always. And what did you have? Nothing but the remnants of Sukuna’s affection, which felt more like an obligation than anything else.

You turned onto your side, burying your face in the pillow, trying to drown out the thoughts that haunted you. But the more you tried, the louder they became. You could still hear the echoes of his voice from earlier, the way he had looked at Chiharu with an intensity that made your heart clench.

He was a monster, but he was her father—someone who had chosen to resurrect her from the depths of despair. He had given her a life filled with warmth, while you were left with the remnants of a hollow existence.

“Hiromi has everything in my lord Sukuna.” you whispered into the darkness, your voice trembling. “A dead woman, and I have nothing.” Tears slipped from your eyes, soaking the fabric of the pillow. “She gave him a child, love, and he keeps it. And nothing of me.”

You couldn’t understand why it hurt so much. You had wanted to be close to Sukuna, to carve out a space in his heart that felt like home, but every time you looked at Chiharu, you were reminded of your failure. You were the one who existed in the shadows, the one who couldn’t compete with the memory of a woman long gone.

You closed your eyes, squeezing out the tears that felt like a dam breaking within you. Each drop felt like a piece of your heart spilling out onto the floor, a tangible reminder of your torment. You were grateful for Chiharu, but the bittersweet reality of your situation consumed you.

After what felt like hours of battling your own thoughts, you finally rose from your bed and made your way to the garden. The night air was cool against your skin, and you could hear the rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze. As you stepped into the moonlight, you were enveloped in a quiet stillness, yet it did little to ease your turmoil.

You found yourself standing beneath the cherry blossom tree, its delicate petals fluttering like whispers in the wind. It was a beautiful sight, but it only deepened the ache in your chest. You remembered how Chiharu’s eyes had sparkled with excitement when she painted that tree, how her laughter had filled the air like music.

But even as you admired its beauty, you couldn’t escape the lingering shadow of Hiromi. “Why do you haunt me?” you murmured, your voice breaking as you gazed up at the stars. “Why can’t I escape your memory?”

You sank to your knees beneath the tree, your fingers brushing against the cool earth. “I don’t want to compete with you.” you whispered, your heart aching with the weight of your confession. “I just want to be enough… for him, for Chiharu.”

The wind picked up, rustling the leaves above you, and in that moment, it felt as though the world held its breath. You could almost hear Hiromi’s laughter, see her warm smile—a gentle reminder of the life she had once lived.

A tear rolled down your cheek, and you let it fall, feeling the weight of your grief and jealousy wash over you. You had tried so hard to be strong, to forge a bond with Chiharu, but the reality of your situation loomed like a dark cloud, threatening to engulf you.

As you knelt there, surrounded by the whispers of the night, you could feel Sukuna’s presence looming in the back of your mind. He was a force of nature, a tempest that left destruction in its wake, and you were caught in the storm.

“Will I ever matter to you?” you asked softly, the question lingering in the cool night air. The silence answered you, an empty echo of your unfulfilled desires.

The moonlight bathed the garden in a soft glow, but no matter how beautiful it was, the ache in your heart remained. You rose to your feet, wiping the tears from your face, knowing that you had to keep moving forward—for Chiharu’s sake, if not your own.

Tomorrow would bring new challenges, and you would face them with the strength you found in your love for the little girl who had unexpectedly entered your life. But tonight, in the shadow of a woman you could never compete with, you allowed yourself to grieve—grieve for what could never be, for the love that felt so far out of reach.

As you made your way back to your chambers, the weight of Hiromi’s legacy still pressed on your heart, but you clung to the hope that perhaps, one day, you could carve your own place in this world—one that belonged to you, and to Chiharu.

══════════════════

YOU WERE EXHAUSTED FROM THE WORK ALL DAY. But as the lord summoned you, you were inclined to attend to him. That is just how it was. It has been two years now, since Hironobu, since Chiharu had come to live with you.

And a lot had since changed with the way you and Sukuna existed together. Perhaps, it is what it is. This is all that is left. You think you would like to be content with that.

The evening was cloaked in a haze of amber light as you and Sukuna sat across from each other in the dimly lit chambers, the air thick with tension. A selection of fine spirits lay on the table between you, remnants of a night that had spiraled into a blur of laughter and inebriation. But the laughter had faded, leaving behind a bitter residue that clung to your heart.

You raise your glass, your hand slightly unsteady as you downed another shot, the liquid fire coursing down your throat. It was supposed to be a moment of camaraderie, an attempt to bridge the growing chasm between you. Instead, it felt like a catalyst, igniting the frustrations that had been building within you.

Sukuna watched you with a bemused expression, but there was a glint in his eyes—something predatory, something that made your heart race. Fueled by the alcohol and the raw emotion coursing through you, you slammed your glass down on the table, the sound echoing in the silence.

"You took everything I have!" you slur drunkenly, your voice breaking as the words tumbled out. "I gave you everything I had, and I am miserable because of it!"

Sukuna’s brows furrowed, and for a moment, the playful smirk slipped from his face, replaced by a flicker of confusion. But you pressed on, the anger and despair and somehow bitter laughter mingling in a toxic blend that fueled your fury.

"You made me miserable with you! The one shot of joy I have in my life—someone who could care for me—and you take him away from me? What have I done to you to make me suffer like this, my lord?"

The room seemed to spin, the walls closing in around you as the weight of your words settled heavily in the air. The tears that had been threatening to spill finally broke free, cascading down your cheeks as you fought against the sorrow that threatened to engulf you.

"I regret you, sometimes! Everything of you, I regret!" you cried, the confession tearing from your lips like a wounded animal. A laugh escapes you. “Ah, I am driven mad. I thought….I thought to be content but somehow, I kept thinking and thinking. The questions of what if I had chosen some other path.”

Sukuna’s expression hardened, his eyes narrowing as he took in your words. You could see the tumult of emotions playing across his face—anger, frustration, maybe even hurt. But he didn’t speak, and the silence hung heavy between you.

“You think this is easy for me?” he finally said, his voice low and dangerous. “You think I wanted to hurt you?”

You shook your head, your heart pounding in your chest. “You have no idea what it’s like! To live in the shadow of someone who came before me! To feel like I’m constantly competing with a ghost!”

The bitterness of your words filled the room, and you could see the flicker of something deep within him. A flicker of regret? Anger? It was hard to tell. What could there be left between two people who don’t talk? What could be left between two people who don’t understand each other well, and yet pretend they do?

“You think I don’t suffer too?” he challenged, his voice rising little by little. “You think I don’t care about you?”

You paused, the anger momentarily dissipating as you searched his face for any hint of sincerity. But all you saw was the monster—the god, the force of nature that had swept into your life and turned everything upside down.

“Then why do you make me feel like this?” you whispered, the vulnerability in your voice cutting through the tension. “Why can’t you just let me be happy? With Hironobu… with Chiharu… with anyone?”

A shadow crossed Sukuna’s face, and for a moment, it felt like you had struck a chord. But he quickly masked it, his expression turning cold once more. “Hironobu is nothing to me. He is weak, a distraction.”

“That ‘distraction’ makes me happy!” you yelled, frustration spilling over once more. “He cares for me in a way you never could! He makes me feel like I matter!”

Sukuna’s gaze hardened, but beneath that facade, you could see the conflict churning. You took a step forward, your heart racing. “I don’t want to be your pawn anymore. I don’t want to be a part of your world if it means losing everything I love!”

The air crackled with tension as the two of you faced each other, the weight of your words hanging between you. And then the dam broke. You collapsed into tears, the alcohol amplifying your emotions as you fell to your knees, sobs wracking your body. The tears spilled unchecked, your heart breaking under the weight of it all.

“I hate this!” you cried out, your voice muffled by the floor. “I hate feeling like this! I hate you!”

Sukuna stood frozen, a statue of power and control as he watched your breakdown unfold. But as your cries filled the room, something shifted within him.

He took a step closer, his presence looming over you like a storm cloud, and yet, despite the turmoil, you felt a flicker of something more—something like concern.

“Get up, little one.” he commanded softly, his voice low and steady. “You’re stronger than this.”

But you shook your head, your heartache spilling over. “I don’t want to be strong anymore. I just want to be free.”

There was a moment of silence as you both stood at the edge of a precipice, and for the first time, you could see the weight of your shared pain reflected in his eyes.

“I’m sorry.” he said finally, the words heavy with unspoken understanding. “You know it well, little one. I will never set you free.”

You didn’t know if he was apologizing for Hiromi, for Hironobu, or for the pain you both carried, but it was a start. You slowly rose to your feet, wiping your tears, though the hurt still lingered in your chest. You think that it doesn’t matter anymore. It never does.

Sukuna stood before you, an imposing figure, but in that moment, you could see the man behind the monster. The flicker of vulnerability lingered in the depths of his gaze, an acknowledgment of the bond that tethered you both to a past neither of you could escape.

“I may never be what you want me to be, little one.” he murmured. “But I won’t take away your happiness again.”

You looked into his eyes, searching for sincerity, and for the first time, you felt the hope of a fragile truce forming between you. It was a small step, but it was a step nonetheless, one that could lead you both out of the darkness and into the light—if only you could find the strength to keep moving forward.

The air was thick with unspoken emotions as you and Sukuna stood facing each other, the weight of your words still hanging heavily in the silence. His gaze bore into yours, a mix of intensity and something softer that made your heart race. You felt as if you were standing on a precipice, caught between the fear of falling and the desire to soar.

“I want to believe you, my lord.” you said quietly, the tremor in your voice betraying the storm of emotions still raging within. “But you have to understand… every time you pull me closer, it feels like you’re pushing me away. I can’t live like this—constantly afraid of losing everything.”

Sukuna’s expression shifted, a flicker of regret passing over his features. “I never meant to hurt you, little one.” he replied, his voice low. “But my world is not kind, and I can’t…..I can’t be what you want me to be. I cannot be kind to you.”

“But that’s just it!” you exclaimed, frustration bubbling up once more. “You’re so powerful, yet you let this darkness consume you! You wield it like a weapon, and I’m the one left in the crossfire! Why am I always suffering for your sake?”

He took a step closer, the space between you diminishing as he searched your face for understanding. “I am a monster, little one.” he said, his voice raw. “I have done terrible things—things that haunt me. But I never wanted to drag you into that darkness. You deserve to be happy. But….it is not meant to be. And we are…we are stuck together, whether you like it or not, in this cage.”

“Then why does it feel like you’re the one who keeps me from it?” you challenged, your heart racing. “I’m so tired of living in your shadow, of feeling like a mere afterthought in your life. Every time I see you with Chiharu, it reminds me that I am just a placeholder—a ghost of a memory that doesn’t matter.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you feared you had pushed too far. But then he reached out, his hand brushing against your arm, the warmth of his touch igniting something deep within you.

“I don’t want to lose you, little one.” he said, his voice a husky whisper. “You’ve brought something into my life I never knew I needed. But it terrifies me. And I just….I will not let you go.”

You felt your breath hitch, a rush of emotions swirling within you. “Then show me, my lord.” you pleaded, your heart pounding in your chest. “Show me that I matter to you. Don’t make me feel like I’m just a convenience. I want to be more than that.”

His gaze softened, and for a fleeting moment, the god before you was just a man—a man struggling with his own demons, much like you. “I don’t know how anymore, little one.” he admitted, vulnerability lacing his words. “But I will try.”

The sincerity in his eyes pierced through the haze of your hurt and resentment. You had spent so long fighting against the current, desperately trying to find your footing in a world that seemed intent on pulling you under. But standing here, facing Sukuna, you realized that maybe—just maybe—there was a chance for something more, something real.

“I’m scared too, my lord.” you confessed, your voice trembling as the weight of your emotions threatened to crush you. “Scared that you’ll change your mind, scared that I’ll lose everything again. Or maybe you would kill me. But I can’t keep hiding from you. I cannot keep finding ways to escape you.”

The sincerity in your admission hung in the air between you, a fragile thread woven from the strands of your broken heart. Sukuna’s expression darkened as he processed your words, his usually confident demeanor faltering just slightly. He nodded slowly, his brow furrowed in contemplation.

“I know that too well, little one.” He brushes your hair away from your face. “I know it all.”

His voice was steady, almost soothing, but the underlying tension crackled like static in the air. You took a deep breath, a sense of resolve building within you. “I want to believe you, my lord.” you said softly, each word laced with the weight of your doubt. “But you know that you are not speaking true… you lie as easily as you breathe.And I drown loving you like its law and hating you for how you taught me to love you.”

The admission feel like a heavy stone between you, and you could see the flicker of something in his eyes—perhaps regret, perhaps anger. But you didn’t back down. You needed him to hear the truth, the raw, unvarnished reality of your existence.

“It’s as if you’re a tempest.” you continued, your voice rising with the heat of your frustration. “One moment you’re this powerful force, sweeping me off my feet, promising me the world, and the next, I’m left to drown in the chaos you create. You wield your power like a weapon, and I’m the one caught in the crossfire.”

His jaw clenched, and you could see the internal struggle etched on his face. “I never meant to hurt you, little one.” he said, but the words felt hollow, echoing through the chasm of pain that separated you.

“And yet you’re the architect of my suffering.” you challenged, your heart pounding in your chest. “You brought me into your world. And all I’ve known…is misery. You say you want me by your side, but you torture me. You kill me, everyday.”

The vulnerability in your voice cut through the tension like a blade, and you saw his expression shift. There was something there—something that hinted at the turmoil he carried beneath his godlike exterior.

“You’re not just a concubine to me.” he said, his tone softer, but the intensity of his gaze never wavered. “You mean more than you know.”

“More than what?” you spat, your anger flaring up once more. “More than a passing fancy? A moment of respite from your endless hunger for power? I am not a toy for you to play with, my lord. I’m not just a distraction from your demons, your misery. You want me to believe that I matter. You’re using me to fill the void left by Hiromi.”

The name hung in the air, heavy with the ghosts of the past, and you could see the shift in Sukuna’s expression—a flicker of pain, a crack in his facade. “You don’t understand…” he started, but you cut him off, needing to vent the storm of hurt and betrayal swirling within you.

“Understand what?” you cried, your voice breaking. “That I’m just a shadow in the light of a dead woman? That every moment I spend with you is tainted by her memory? You keep her close, a constant reminder of what I can never be. She gave you a child, love—everything I yearn for from you these past few years but can’t have. I feel like I’m drowning in your past while you expect me to be grateful for whatever scraps of affection you throw my way.”

For a heartbeat, the silence swallowed you both, the air thick with tension and unshed tears. Sukuna’s eyes bore into yours, a tempest of emotions raging beneath the surface—frustration, desire, regret. “I don’t want to lose you, little one.” he said, the words almost a whisper.

“And yet you keep pushing me away, my lord.” you shot back, your heart aching with the truth. “You think you can keep me at arm’s length, and I’ll just accept it? You can’t keep pulling me in with one hand while pushing me away with the other. I need to know that I am more than just a fleeting moment for you!”

“I’m trying!” he shouted, his voice rising, but the urgency in it didn’t mask the vulnerability. “You don’t understand the things I’ve done, the things I’m capable of! I’ve been alive for a long time, and you are the first to accept what I am. I am trying to keep you, little one. I need you.”

His raw honesty pierced through the fog of your emotions, and you felt your heart crack a little more. “Let me go, my lord.” you whispered, the weight of your own words settling heavily on your chest. “Let me be free of this burden you’ve placed on me. I want to be happy, but I can’t find that happiness in the shadow of your misery upon me.”

“I can’t.” he replied, desperation lacing his voice. “I won’t. You’re a part of me now, whether you want to be or not.”

You shook your head, tears spilling down your cheeks as the reality of your situation sank in. “But I’m not sure I want to be part of this… this nightmare anymore.” you said, your voice breaking. “I’m tired, my lord. Tired of fighting for a love that feels more like a battlefield than a sanctuary.”

With every word, your resolve crumbled a little more, and you felt the exhaustion wash over you like a tide. The weight of your feelings, the burden of past traumas, and the constant strain of navigating the unpredictable depths of your relationship with Sukuna were too much to bear. You wanted to be strong, to stand your ground and fight for something better, but fatigue was clawing at the edges of your consciousness.

You could see the struggle reflected in his eyes—an intense mixture of determination and sorrow. But even in the heat of your argument, you sensed that his heart was also heavy with burdens he carried alone. You took a shaky breath, desperate for release from this tumultuous cycle of emotions.

As the exhaustion settled deeper into your bones, you felt your eyelids growing heavy, the fight within you slowly extinguishing. “I just—” you started, but the words faded as you succumbed to the comforting darkness that beckoned you.

“Just rest.” Sukuna murmured, his voice a soothing balm against the chaos of your thoughts. “You need to let go for a moment. I’ll be here when you wake.”

His voice wrapped around you like a cocoon, and despite the turmoil of your heart, you found solace in his presence. With one last shuddering breath, you finally surrendered to the pull of sleep, the weight of your burdens slipping away as your consciousness faded into the comforting embrace of oblivion.

In the morning, you know that nothing will change.

In the morning, you will still be miserable with him.

In the morning, you’ll love him like he is the law.

In the morning, you’ll worship him as religion taught.

In the morning, you’ll never be able to be free from him.

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ktownshizzle · 2 months ago

Text

Terms & Conditions | Chapter 1

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female reader

Summary: Managing Min Yoongi as one of your encoders during his alternative military service should’ve been simple. He is quiet, punctual—and can apparently type as fast as he can rap! Not to mention the fact that he is easy on the eyes and keeps wanting to help you. You’ve signed an iron-clad NDA, detailing the full terms and conditions of his temporary employment, so you’re supposed to keep things professional, but what happens if neither of you wants to?

Genre: Fluff, eventual smut, co-workers to lovers, office romance, idol!au

Warnings: Purely speculative regarding Yoongi’s alternative military service and how this is really done in SK, I might include scootergate in a future chapter but please know it will be written sensibly imo and with so much love for our Yoongi (I just wanna protecc him at all costs even thru this silly story!), some cursing, boss/employee relationship sorta but there's no power play involved, reader and Yoongi are within the same age range, tbh nothing too bad in this chapter

Word count: 6.3k hehe (approx. 25 mins to read)

Posting date: October 9, 2024

Notes: So it’s my birthday, y'all. 🎂 Hope you enjoy this little treat! 🎈And let me know if anyone wants to be tagged for future chapters. Just leave a comment. Formatting this better soon, really just wanted to get this out!

Your first meeting with Min Yoongi goes exactly as you expected: awkward as hell.

The day kicked off with some solid foreshadowing.

On the subway, you somehow managed to sit directly on someone’s hand, giving yourself a completely unsolicited grope for breakfast. Awkward.

Then you hit your usual café, chatting with your mom on the phone while waiting for your drink. Just as the barista handed over your order, you wrapped up the call with a bright and cheery “love you!”—only to realize too late that the barista thought it was meant for him. Awkward.

Things only got weirder from there. As you checked your emails on your phone, you walked straight into a pole, and you made eye contact with a cat who just looked at you, tail swaying, like it was somehow pleased with your suffering.

So naturally, you hoped that your first day with Min Yoongi wouldn’t follow the same cursed trend. But, of course, you weren’t that lucky.

You can feel the office buzzing with excitement as you step in, but you’ve all been told to keep it low-key. Nobody is allowed to make a big deal about him, but in some ways, that just makes it an even bigger deal. You’ve refrained from searching his name on Naver. It’s enough that you know him as 1/7 of South Korea’s biggest boyband. You don’t need to stalk him because that’s just gonna make this weird.

Speaking of weird, the female security guard gives you a wink as you clock in, and you return with a simple nod back, because honestly you’re tired of being treated like you wanted this. Like you asked for this “opportunity”. Some of the girls have called you the "blessed one" to have been chosen to work alongside him in your small, shoebox office. Truthfully, you don’t really care as long as he gets the job done.

But you're feeling scared for many reasons you can’t quite express, the pressure mostly coming from the fact that every fucking person in this office is so motherfuckin’ wet for this dude. Is he even that hot? Nobody is that hot for real. Unless it’s Cha Eun Woo (you just picked up the new Vogue issue and ooof)–now that is a different story.

Your throat is dry as hell, and your stomach is in knots. There’s no time to freak out though as you just received a ping that he’s on his way.

You clear your throat, adjust your stance, and try to appear composed and professional, despite the fact that your insides are churning. You spot your tiny plastic garbage can on the corner of the room, in case you need to hurl, but the garbage lady forgot to line it again for fuck’s sake.

You pull your knit sweater down to cover the tiny belt that holds your linen pants, the only thing holding something together in this room, ‘cos you are actually spiraling–kind of?

Fuck he’s here.

The doors to your office open, making the little wind chime you hung there tinkle, and you spot the top of his head from behind the pudgy middle-aged guy that walks in front of him—your boss. Two men flank him, one of them you know as someone from his company, because he was the one doling out NDAs the other day like how they do beef jerky samples in the supermarket. The other, more buff guy, his bodyguard, most likely. Until you know their real names, you’ll call them Beef Jerky and Beefy.

Okay, focus.

Min Yoongi finally steps into your line of vision.

Dressed in his military uniform, he was quiet, unassuming, expression unreadable. His eyes were pretty sharp, a bit intimidating, like he was thinking about something more important than whatever this is. His hair was a bit messy in the front, but somehow it worked for him. He wasn’t huge or anything, just lean and kinda laid-back, with this easy posture that made it seem like he didn’t really care who was looking. Honestly, nothing too special.

But then, there was his aura, something you couldn’t quite ignore. It wasn’t flashy or loud, but there was this energy about him, like the room shifted just a little when he walked in. He didn’t have to say a damn thing, yet somehow, you found yourself aware of him. It wasn’t just his looks. It was the way he carried himself, calm and confident, like he didn’t need to prove anything. Must be nice to be rich and powerful…

“Miss?” Beef Jerky leans to his side to get into your sightline.

Shit, what did he say? Anyway, you shake your head, and proceed to just introduce yourself.

“Hello, I’m the manager,” you bow, perhaps too stiffly. “I’ll be overseeing your work during your service here.”

He bows politely, too, eyes briefly meeting yours before looking away. “I’m Min Yoongi, pleasure to meet you,” he says in a tone that feels blunt, almost rehearsed.

Your boss Hyun-woo, who you recently found out is his distant uncle, stands beside him, clapping his shoulder. “You are in good hands here, Yoongi. She’s my best, most trusted employee in this entire office.”

You blush at the compliment, feeling a wave of self-consciousness as you struggle to make the interaction less awkward. You close your fists willing yourself to get a fuckin’ grip.

“I will leave you both to get acquainted.”

Your boss along with the two individuals leave the room. The door closes with a soft click.

Annoyingly, something is stuck in your throat and you clear it with a quick sip from this comically huge-sized tumbler your roommate got for you when you had a pesky bout of UTI last year.

“I’ve, uh, prepared your tasks for today.” You gesture to his desk, quickly pulling up the list of assignments on your tablet. You show him his username and password scribbled on a post-it by the monitor. He picks it up and inspects it. You spend time explaining the basics of the work here. Word processing. Nothing to it really. It’s about efficiency, accuracy, and confidentiality, because of the many private government records that you handle day to day.

“Do you have any questions?”

Crickets.

The office feels larger now, the silence between you echoing awkwardly. “Ooo-kay. If you don’t have any questions, that’s fine. But don’t hesitate to ask if there’s anything I can help you with,” you add, hoping to sound approachable but instead sounding robotic, like an email sign off. You wince inwardly.

He just nods again, offering nothing more. He sits and picks up the paper on the top of the file. You guess that’s your cue to leave. And by leave, you mean round his table so you can sit on yours, the one across from him.

You walk back with this weird stutter in your chest. For a moment, you wonder if he finds you too formal. It’s not like you’re trying to be intimidating, but professionalism has been your go-to ever since the promotion. And it’s not like you need to wow him with your personality, so you can become fast friends. If the NDA you signed was to be taken to heart, it would be better to not establish any form of relationship with him outside of team lead and team member, what with the exorbitant number of potential violations and potential fines for breaking it.

When his keyboard starts clickety-clacking, dread sinks in your stomach that it’s going to be like this every day—strictly business, no small talk, no casual exchanges. You’re not the most sociable person, but once in a while, you do appreciate a bit of interaction. You sigh internally, returning to your own tasks, trying not to overthink the situation anymore. For now, at least.

Throughout the morning, you cannot help but steal glances at him. Damn, what skin care does he use? He literally looks radiant, like he’s glowing from within. Fuck, you have to look away because this is precisely why they trusted you to take him under your wing. You are a consummate professional, not a creep like the girls from accounting, especially trampy Danbi. You chalk it to unfamiliarity and curiosity, which you know you will quickly overcome. But for now you cut yourself some slack. Obviously, there was a legit celebrity in the room, and he seems to radiate some undeniable aura. It also feels strange to have someone else in this tiny office that you’ve occupied alone for so long.

Honestly, you’re still baffled as to why he was assigned to you, specifically. Well, that’s not entirely true. You know it’s because Hyun-woo has blind trust in you, having seen you as one of his go-to employees. Truth be told, you think he treats you like a niece. Is that weird? Maybe. He lets you assist some of the other artists who’ve come through for personal or one-time projects and you have always delivered for him, never engaging in any office gossip.

But still, you can’t shake the feeling of frustration. Why did this have to happen to you? You just got your promotion and were so excited to mentor someone, to be that “cool boss” you always envisioned. But now you’re stuck with this temp—who’s really not a temp but a world-renowned idol. It’s all so awkward.

Once in a while you catch him yawning, so in a desperate bid to cut through the tension, you ask, “Um, do you like coffee?”

He shifts to sit straighter. “Nah, I’m good. Thank you.” he responds, quickly looking your way and training his eyes back to the screen, hands typing away.

You nod, feeling slightly deflated. “Right. Got it.”

The day drags on, and you can’t shake off the feeling of being an over-eager manager trying too hard.

Within the first week, you discover very quickly that Yoongi is all about business. He is just here to finish his service as discreetly as possible. He clocks in on time, disappears for an hour for breaks, and clocks out on time as well. You don’t know where he disappears during those breaks, but you suspect in Hyun-woo’s office to get more privacy. He barely speaks to you. He greets you with a small bow in the morning and responds with a grunt or a hum. It’s all very… whatever. It is what it is, so you stop trying to be anything but his boring manager. You hand him his tasks every morning, check his output by EOD, like clockwork.

Unfortunately, it was one of those manic Mondays. The pile of documents grows faster than you can manage. Calls keep coming in, requests needing immediate attention, and your desk looks like the utter chaos that is the inside of your brain. You glance at Yoongi across from you—he’s focused, calm, completely unfazed by the sudden rush.

“Do you need help with that?” His voice startles you, low and soft. You honestly even forgot how it sounded, having little to no interaction everyday.

Before you can respond, he’s already pulling the spare chair from the corner and is at your side, sorting through the forms. His hands move with unexpected speed, and soon, the paperwork starts shrinking. You offer a weak smile, trying to appear professional. “Thanks. I wasn’t expecting today to be so hectic.”

He only nods in response, his focus entirely on the task at hand. You glance at him, noticing for the first time how sharp his features are up close—dark eyes, cute pointy nose, and freckles dusting some parts of his cheeks. His tongue, pink and moist, peeks out from the side of his lips as he concentrates. Ok, you need to look away RIGHT NOW.

You’re aware of the attraction most women probably feel for someone like him. Exhibit A��Danbi, who cornered you that morning in the toilet “for the scoop” and you’re sick of her. But if you’ll be honest, it’s hard not to notice that Yoongi indeed has a… pleasant face. But you are a professional. Yes, you are. This whole mysterious, brooding vibe is not going to get to you attracted to him in any way, shape, or form. You’re his manager. You signed those NDAs. Never mind that his lips are just the perfect shape, pouty, plush… and smirking.

Shit. He’s smirking because you’re caught.

You look away hastily and start opening some random file in your computer and pretend to be immersed reading it. In truth, you need some air, but it would be too damn obvious if you stepped away.

A few minutes pass in silence. You’ve quelled the initial onslaught of hormones and are back to work mode. You’re happy that he is so efficient and you smile as you get through the initial bulk of paperwork. You’re starting to relax, getting into the familiar groove of getting a file and processing it, until your fingers accidentally brush against his while reaching for the same folder. The touch is brief, but it sends a jolt through you, your heart stuttering in response. You glance up, half-expecting another awkward moment (because you can’t stop feeling like such a fool in front of him), but Yoongi remains composed, as he pulls his hand away and waits for you to take the document.

You do, but your pulse quickens. Just an accident, you tell yourself. He probably didn’t even notice. And if he did, he probably doesn’t care.

But now, as you continue working side by side, there’s an unspoken understanding. You realize, despite his quiet demeanor, he’s someone you can rely on, someone who won’t leave you stranded when things get tough. And that’s actually really nice. It’s what you wanted when Hyun-woo said you were going to have a team. Granted it’s just the two of you for now, but still, it’s nice to have a partner.

Later in the week, you find yourself in the break room, needing a coffee fix. There was a place down the street with cheap and good coffee, but unfortunately you didn’t have the time to pop in with so much work on your desk. So free and awful coffee it is today.

You enter just in time to see Yoongi struggling with the coffee machine. You have never seen him anywhere else in the building apart from your office, so this was quite a surprise.

“Need a hand?” you ask tentatively, stepping closer.

“I think I broke it,” he replies, hearing exasperation in his voice for the very first time.

“Hang on, let me,” you unplug and plug the machine, fiddle with some of the buttons, waiting for it to sputter to life.

You’re leaning against the counter, waiting for the coffee machine to wake up. You know it takes forever, but it’s too familiar at this point. Yoongi stands next to you, his usual quiet self, hands in his pockets.

“I’ve timed it,” you say dryly, glancing at him. “Two minutes and forty seconds.”

He watches the machine as if expecting it to hurry up. “Been here for more than that.”

You smirk. “Maybe it’s on a break.”

He quirks an eyebrow, barely suppressing a smile. “I’ll try that excuse next time.”

You hand Yoongi his coffee, mumbles a thanks, and waits for you to finish yours before both of you settle into the break room’s small table. It’s past lunch, and you know neither of you have eaten, so you reach for the cold ham and cheese sandwiches stashed in the fridge. “Hope you don’t mind,” you say, sliding one across to him.

He looks at it for a moment before picking it up. “I’ve had worse.”

“High praise.”

He takes a bite, chewing thoughtfully. “Could be worse. Could be that coffee.”

You raise your cup in mock agreement. “Fair point. Don’t even know why I drink this shit. I mean this thing.” You slap a hand over your mouth. Did you just curse in front of your subordinate? Government offices are a stickler for these things, being on the traditional side.

He chuckles at your shocked expression, and teases, “Isn’t that a code of conduct violation?”

You gnaw at your lip, suppressing the smile that wants to stretch out, but you fail. “It is. But you’re no snitch.”

He motions to zip his lips and throws an imaginary key over his shoulder. Dork.

The conversation lingers in that easy rhythm. You talk about the workload, the other departments, nothing too personal. You glance over at him, noticing how more at ease he seems, as if he’s getting used to being here—around you.

“How long have you worked here?” he leans back, stretching his arm out on the back of the chair beside him.

“Five years,” you respond, tapping the side of your lip with a napkin.

“Do you ever get tired of it?” he asks suddenly.

You blink, slightly taken aback by how blunt he is. You clarify, on guard, “Tired of what exactly?”

He gestures around. “The office. The routine.” He keeps his eyes trained on you, which is a rarity as he always seems to be looking at you but never directly like that. That’s when you knew his question was sincere. That he wasn’t trying to offend you, just trying to get to know you.

You shrug. “Sometimes. But it’s not that bad. Besides,” you smile wryly, “now I have someone to talk shit about this coffee and sandwich with.”

He chuckles, light and throaty, a sound that you realize is tickling something in your brain. “Guess we’re in this shit together now.”

You nod, feeling something warm settle in your chest. The wall between you is thinner now, not entirely gone but close enough to see past.

“Same time tomorrow?” you ask, half-joking, half-hopeful.

He raises an eyebrow, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. “I have two years here. Hope the coffee machine doesn’t beat me to my discharge date.”

Two years. The thought makes you smile. You really don't mind spending that amount of time with him. In fact, it kinda made you a little happy.

As you step into your cozy apartment, the familiar scent of home hits you. Your roommate’s been cooking again, so it also smells like galbi jjim. Yummm.

Your place isn’t much—a small two-bedroom in Yongsan you’ve shared with Chae since Uni—but it’s got character. You both moved in when it was bare and bland, but with a little effort and a lot of creativity, you’ve turned it into something that actually feels like home. The furniture is mostly Scandi-style—clean lines, muted tones, and a lot of beige—but you’ve sprinkled in your own touches everywhere.

There’s that round white table you scored second hand, now always topped with whatever flowers Chae picks up from the market, and the rattan pendant light that casts this soft, cozy glow at night. The tiny kitchen still feels big enough when it’s just the two of you, with mismatched mugs stacked up and a bright orange pan hanging on the wall for no real reason other than it looks cool.

In the living room, a hybrid shelf is stuffed with books, vinyls, and random trinkets from all the places you’ve been. A Chinese lucky cat sculpture from that street market trip. A polaroid of you two drunk at noraebang, one of many others tucked under the glass coffee table. Trendy prints hang on the walls—well, some lean against the walls, because you’ve never gotten around to actually hanging them. It’s perfectly imperfect. It’s not much, but it��s home.

You hang your bag on the rack by the door and head to the kitchen, where Chae is stirring a pot, hips swaying to the music blaring from her phone. Of course, as she holds a silver spoon, she belts out the lyrics from the BTS song with the same title. And you only know this because she has made you watch some edits to this song that left an impression on you.

The thought of revealing this thing you’ve been holding out on her has your stomach in knots. But again, there’s an NDA involved, and you don’t want to violate anything. But just the same, you’re desperate to talk to someone about this strange new development in your life. You just hope you don’t regret risking your job by telling her.

“Hey, Chae!” you call out, and she turns, beaming at you. “How was work?”

“Busy as usual,” you reply, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. “But I have something to tell you.”

Her eyes sparkle with curiosity. “Ooh, do tell!”

You hesitate, but excitement spills out. “I have a new workmate. And you know him.”

“Please don’t tell me it’s one of my exes.”

“No, no.” You take a quick swig of water and twist its cover back in place.

“From Uni?”

You shake your head, water still swirling inside your mouth.

“Is it one of my weird cousins?”

You gulp. “What? No! Also we haven’t talked about why you gave one of them my number. He’s blowing up my Kakao.”

She cackles unapologetically, “Sorry, I need to get them off my back. So, are you going to tell me who this mysterious person is?”

You breathe out a sigh. “Min Yoongi from BTS.”

It’s like a bomb explodes in your roommate’s brain. She drops the spoon, and you wince at the clatter. “What?! No!”

“Yeah…”

“Don’t you even joke right now.”

“I’m not!”

“Are you serious???”

You nod, half-amused by her reaction. “Yeah, he’s assigned to my department for his service.”

“Min Yoongi?” she repeats, eyes wide, almost breathless. “You… I… Do you know how famous he is? He’s like a fuckin’ national treasure! He has a diplomatic passport and everything, keys to the White House… ”

You chuckle at her enthusiasm, but you can’t help but feel a flutter of excitement. “I mean, I guess? But I signed an NDA. I’m not supposed to talk about it.”

She pulls you to her room, and you follow, rolling your eyes. Her space is a shrine to Bangtan, shelves lined with albums, posters, and even plushies. You’ve never given her shit for it, because you also had an EXO phase, but you got rid of most of your stuff through ebay when you needed some extra money.

“Wait, you have to understand him!” she exclaims, rifling through her collection. “You need to learn about his music, his artistry. He’s incredible!”

“Honestly, he has an above average WPM, that’s all I need to know.”

“WPM?” she asks.

“Words per minute. He’s an encoder.”

She gives you a WTF look, then shoves her photocard album in your arms.

“Open that,” she tells you before she flops on her bed with a wistful look. “What's he like? You have to tell me. I need to live vicariously through you.”

You can’t help but laugh at her excitement, flopping down on the bed next to her. “Well, he’s a quick study, very efficient, and also very reserved.”

“…and very hot?” she asks, winking.

“Chaeee!” you groan, burying your face on one of her plushies, the brown one. “I mean, he’s not… bad-looking.”

“Not bad-looking? Girl?! He is sexy as fuck!” she grabs the plush off of your face and you try to school your face to seriousness, but fail.

“I dunno. It’s just work.”

“Just work?!” she echoes again, eyes sparkling. “You’re working with a literal genius! Do you know how many girls would kill for this opportunity?”

Don’t you know it? Danbi and her crew are still up on your face everyday trying to get any morsel of information you’d be willing to throw their way. You sigh, but smile at her enthusiasm. “Alright, I’ll tell you more. But just remember: NDA.”

When your roommate seems satiated, she leaves you a trail of crumbs that unknowingly leads you to a rabbit hole. Two words, she said mysteriously, before you disappear into your room. “Agust D.”

That night, curiosity gets the better of you. You grab your laptop and fall down said rabbit hole, watching every Agust D music video, concert clip, and interview you can find. With each passing moment, you become more entranced, not just by the music, but by the man behind it. The raw passion in his lyrics, the confidence in his delivery—it really is quite… in Chae’s words: sexy af.

As the weeks progress, you have graduated from robotic nods to actual smiles. The greetings feel more familiar now, almost like you're becoming friends.

You walk into the office, a small smile creeping onto your face as you see Yoongi already at his desk. He looks up and meets your gaze, returning the smile with a scratchy hello. The atmosphere feels lighter today, a far cry from your first awkward encounter.

“Ready for another exciting day of paperwork?” you tease, taking your seat.

“Dope,” he replies dryly, but there’s a playful glint in his eye.

Moments later, Yoongi’s head pops from the side of his monitor so that he’s in your view. “Uh, I have a bit of a problem with this file,” he says, brows furrowed with a hint of frustration in his tone.

You immediately jump into action, eager to help. “Let me take a look.”

As you move closer to his desk, you can’t help but notice the way his fingers move over the keyboard, veiny and strong. Images of him playing “Seesaw” on the guitar flood your mind. How can you unsee that?

You shake your head, trying to refocus. “Okay, let’s see…” But your brain keeps drifting, and you find yourself more distracted than ever. His mouth, and his deep voice, as he mumbles his troubles with the document, keeps pulling your attention. You try to push the thoughts away, frustration mounting.

“Is this the line you were talking about?” you ask, forcing yourself to concentrate on the screen.

“Yeah, that’s the one. I just can’t seem to make sense of it,” he replies, glancing at you.

“Let me just…” You lean closer, your heart racing as his shoulder brushes against yours. You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks.

How can you focus on work when all you can think about is this thing he does with his tongue. It feels impossible.

Yoongi watches you, an amused smile playing on his lips. “You look like you’re trying to solve a complex equation.”

“Honestly, I’m starting to think my brain is broken.”

Yoongi glances at you with a smirk. “If your brain is broken, then mine’s completely fried. I tried to make toast this morning and almost burnt my apartment down.”

You laugh. “Maybe you should stick to Uber eats.”

“Agreed. It’s safer for everyone involved,” he quips, his eyes sparkling with amusement, before it turns into something slightly more serious. “Not that there’s anyone else, umm, involved. I, uh, live alone, so…”

His comment makes you smile, and you can’t help but feel a rush of warmth at the way he stuttered the last bit out. You don’t know what to make of it, so you just left it at that.

About to clock out, Yoongi stands from his desk, bag over his shoulder.

“You know, despite my toast incident, I’m actually a pretty great cook. That toast was a fluke,” he declares, his tone half-serious, like it has been bothering him for quite some time.

The way he looks worried that you may think he is terrible in the kitchen, is not lost on you. You raise an eyebrow, “Is that so?”

He shifts the bag on his shoulder, narrowing his eyes at you. “You don’t believe me.”

“Give me a taste then,” you say, biting your lip. You made it sound really suggestive, but you can’t take it back now. Not when he seems to get it, and he seems kind of into it.

He leans with a playful glint in his eyes, “Alright. I’ll bring kimchi jeon, but you also have to give me a taste.” he pauses, pushing his tongue on the inside of his cheek, before continuing. “Of your…”

“Pasta.” You say, cheeks warm, but voice steady. “Friday?”

He smirks, then he’s out the door.

You bury your face on your palms, smiling like a fool as your heart beats loudly in your chest. What the actual hell is happening?

It’s Friday afternoon, and the office is quieter than usual—most of the staff are already winding down, eager for the weekend. You glance at the clock, knowing it’s almost time for the little food showdown you’ve been looking forward to all week.

You and Yoongi walk together to the break room, both armed with your dishes. His kimchi jeon and your pasta.

You warm your containers in the microwave before you settle down on a corner spot.

“I hope you’re ready to lose,” you tease, sliding the container of Carbonara across the table. Yoongi raises an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair with that infuriatingly calm smirk.

“You seem confident,” he replies, popping open the lid of his dish. The scent of kimchi fills the room, and you have to admit—it smells incredible.

“Smells good,” you say, trying not to let your surprise show.

“Of course it does. I told you I could cook.” He clips a piece of the jeon with his chopsticks and holds it out to you. “Try it.”

You lean forward, the chopsticks brushing against your lips as you take a bite. The flavors hit you immediately—spicy, savory, just the way you like it. You chew slowly, pretending to think it over even though you’re already sold.

“Not bad,” you admit, leaning back with a grin. “But it’s gonna take more than that to beat my pasta.”

Yoongi scoffs, but there’s amusement in his eyes as he picks up a fork and twirls it into your pasta. He takes a bite, and you watch him carefully, waiting for his reaction.

He chews, then pauses, glancing up at you through his lashes. “Alright… I have to admit,” he says, his tone casual but the look in his eyes a little too serious, “this is really good.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “That’s it? Just ‘really good?’”

He leans forward on his elbows, his gaze steady on yours. “Fine. It’s amazing,” he says, his voice softening just a bit, though there’s a teasing smile on his lips. “But don’t let it go to your head.”

“Oh, it’s already there,” you quip, biting back a smile.

Yoongi laughs, a sound that’s more relaxed than usual, and you catch the way his eyes linger on you just a little longer than necessary. “You know what? I’ll give you this one,” he concedes, sitting back with a defeated sigh, though the smile never leaves his face. “You win.”

You hoot, then immediately cover your mouth with your hands, remembering you are in your place of business.

He grins as he takes another bite of your Carbonara, forking pieces of bacon straight to his mouth. There’s something different in the way he’s looking at you now—something softer, like he’s seeing you in a way he hasn’t before. You are thrown for a loop. Maybe it’s the way he keeps sneaking glances at you between bites, or the quiet hum of satisfaction when he takes another forkful of your dish. Whatever it is, you want it and you like it.

You push your chair back, stretching your arms above your head as the day finally comes to a close. It’s been a long one, but productive—and surprisingly enjoyable. After sharing lunch with Yoongi earlier, things felt lighter, less awkward. Still, when you glance at the window, seeing the sheets of rain coming down hard, your shoulders sag slightly. It’s pouring, and you didn’t bring an umbrella.

As you slip on your parka after snapping the detachable hoodie on, Yoongi catches your eye, “You’re not planning to walk in this, are you?”

“I can take the subway,” you say quickly.

Yoongi chuckles, shaking his head as he shows you his keys. “Just let me give you a ride, it’s not a problem.”

You hesitate, but eventually, you sigh. “Okay, sure. Thanks.”

The two of you dash out into the rain, laughing softly as you both get soaked within seconds. By the time you’re in his car, your hair sticks to your forehead, and the chill of your wet clothes clings to your skin.

But you’re glad that you’re finally inside. He blasts the heater and the warmth is immediate, fogging the windows as the downpour intensifies. He fiddles with the stereo as you settle in, and Epik High’s "Born Hater" comes through his car speakers.

“Born hater!” You announce, and you catch yourself, embarrassed at the way you had to say the title of the song so emphatically.

“Cute,” Yoongi mumbles as he looks at you like he is actually endeared and you think you would catch fire despite being soaked.

“Ok hater, what’s one thing you hate?” He asks as he puts the gear on reverse.

The question is sudden, casual, and it throws you off for a moment. “What?” You laugh, furrowing your brow. “Like, what do you mean?”

He shrugs, his grip loose on the steering wheel. “Just one thing you hate. Something small. What’s something that drives you crazy?”

His arm moves behind your seat, while one hand takes the wheel and maneuvers the car seamlessly back out of the parking spot—and you don’t quite understand why you think that lone action is so sexy. It’s a miracle you’re still able to think and respond to his simple question. “Okay… I hate it when people chew with their mouth open.”

Yoongi chuckles, the sound low and warm. “Yeah, I’m guilty of that.”

“What about you?” you ask, feeling more at ease. “What’s something you hate?”

Without missing a beat, he grins. “Mushrooms. I can’t stand them.”

“Mushrooms?” You snicker. “What, like all of them?”

“All of them,” he says firmly. “They taste like dirt.”

“Wrong.” You shake your head, laughing. “They do not. You’re just picky.”

He turns to you, raising an eyebrow playfully. “Nope, I’m right. Name another thing.”

“Pickles,” you say.

“Get out of the car,” he deadpans and you both laugh.

“Not even on pizza? I actually can’t eat pizza without it.”

“Yeah, it’s still a no for me,” you say, rubbing your palms on your pants.

“Are you still cold?” He asks.

“A little,” you say, your damp clothes still causing a bit of a chill.

At the next stop light he reaches for something in the back seat and places a folded scarf of some sort on your lap. Grateful, you mutter a thanks as BIGBANG’s “Haru Haru” comes next.

You sigh, smelling his faint cologne on the garment, and melt in your seat as you pull the fabric over your shoulders, “I love this song…”

“Me too,” he says. “I listened to this song a lot when I was in high school.”

“Yeah, me too,” you share a smile before his eyes go back on the road as the green light comes. “What were you like in school?” you ask.

He raises an eyebrow, considering your question for a second. And his response was blunt, as he tends to be. “Was a loser. Kept to myself. Worked on music when I could. School wasn’t really my thing.”

“Figures,” you tease.

He doesn’t glance at you, but there was an amused grin playing on his lips. “What about you? You look like a popular kid.”

“Oh, I was definitely a loser, too. Overachieving student who tried way too hard to please everyone,” you say with a self-deprecating laugh, looking at the pouring rain outside. “I always thought if I did everything right, I’d end up happy, but…”

“… but now?” Yoongi asks, tone softer than you’ve ever heard him before.

You hesitate, unsure why this feels like a deeper question than it should. But you wanted to give him some honesty. A tiny piece of you to hold on to if he wants. “Now… I don’t know. I’m still figuring it out, I guess.”

“You will,” he promises, glancing at you in the corner of his eyes and you meet his gaze with a shy smile.

“Thanks.”

Silence falls between you. The music fills the space as the rain lets up, and the streets blur outside the window. It feels like a moment—one you don’t want to think too hard about, because thinking too hard about anything with him feels dangerous.

He pulls up outside your apartment, the car coming to a smooth stop. You don’t move right away, letting the last bit of the song play out as you sit in the warmth of the car.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, finally unbuckling your seatbelt, but your voice feels quieter than usual.

“No problem.” His eyes meet yours for just a second, and it lingers—like there’s something else he wants to say, but doesn’t.

You step out into the cool night air, still feeling his gaze on you as you make your way to the door. When you glance back, Yoongi is still parked there, watching you, and just to lighten the mood you call out, "Bye, loser!" He shakes his head with a tiny grin, "Later, loser!" before he finally pulls away.

Your heart’s racing the whole way up the stairs, each step making it louder, faster, like it’s echoing off the walls. You enter your apartment and press a hand to your chest, trying to calm yourself down, but it’s useless—he’s been stuck in your head since you stepped out of the car. Hell, he's been there for days. You wonder if he could feel the headrush too, all the way from Hannam, where he went completely out of his way just to drop you off.

What you don’t know is Yoongi, back in his apartment, though a little later, is doing the same—sitting there, trying to calm his pulse, still thinking about the long drive, and why he didn’t mind the distance. And as he lay awake in his large bed, smiling like a lunatic, replaying the moments of the day, he knew there really was only one reason:

He likes you.

A/N: What do you think??? I'm so excited for this series!!! Again, just leave a comment if you want to be tagged on the next chapters! Thank you so much for reading! ~k

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Chapter Two >

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withleeknow · 10 months ago

Note

Lee Minho/Know + “quit it or i’ll bite.” + “do it. i dare you.” + suggestive

Thank you if you take this request!!! Up to you who's doing the biting :)

feline tendencies. (m)

pairing: minho x f!reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff, suggestive (probably a teeny bit more than suggestive), minors dni; practically dry humping, biting kink??, mimo's pecs (yes they deserve their own warning) word count: 0.9k

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

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"quit it or i'll bite," minho grumbles, wriggling away from you in an attempt to ward your paws off him. "jesus, what's gotten into you?"

"i wish you would," you mutter, crawling toward him again to lay your head on him once more. the man is reading his book, just trying to enjoy his saturday afternoon and yet there's a menace quite literally in his lap, making grabby hands at him. disrupting his peace and quiet, though that's not really anything new.

"insatiable," minho tsks, his fingers carding through your hair, lightly massaging your scalp as he makes an effort to appease you. his attention is then promptly returned to the pages in front of him.

that's how your weekends are usually spent - lounging about, being lazy together, relaxing by each other's side.

you're just acting up today.

your twitchy fingers have a mind of their own. they dance up his stomach, over his abs until they reach their desired destination.

you place your entire hand over one of his pecs and squeeze, giggling to yourself when you feel his skin under your palm. this earns you a glare though it doesn't faze you.

minho may be scary to other people, but never when he's with you. it's just physically impossible, even if he wanted to.

"seriously, what is with you?"

you give his chest another tender squeeze. "boobs," you say simply. you think that's a pretty good explanation.

maybe you're no better than a man after all.

so it started a couple of weeks ago.

minho rarely skips going to the gym and while you are eternally grateful for it, you must admit that sometimes it drives you a little crazy. you respect his commitment, the consistency of his workout regimen (this could never be you, but that's beside the point); it's one of the traits that you admire most about him - he sees things through and adheres to the schedule that he makes for himself. minho doesn't half-ass the things he does or ditches them when he's feeling a little lazy (unlike you).

however...

it's this same dedication to his routine that's been sending you into a frenzy. lately, your boyfriend has been focused on working a particular area of his body and honestly? it's making you spiral more than you have ever spiraled.

chest. who knew it would be your downfall?

when minho came home last evening straight from the gym, you swear you almost passed out the second he walked through the door. his pecs looked especially good even under his shirt that you practically salivated, shamelessly ogling him like a hungry wolf.

minho sighs as if he's at his wits' end with you, though this time, he lets you continue feeling him up. "you wouldn't like it if i did the same thing to you, now would you?"

"actually, i think i would like that very much."

"i will bite you, no joke."

you have no doubt that he actually would. but again, that isn't something that you would been entirely opposed to either. you might be one of the only people on planet earth who can handle lee minho.

"your feline tendencies are jumping out," you comment, your hand still on his chest, alternating between playful pokes and full on kneading his pecs like dough. "do it. i dare you."

minho bares his teeth at you in the cat-like way that he sometimes does. it's cute, oh so cute.

before you know it, the book is haphazardly flung onto the carpeted floor (bookmark be damned) and your boyfriend is forcing a yelp from your lips when he practically pounces on you. your head is no longer on his lap; instead, he's got you pinned underneath him, his hips flushed against yours.

you can feel him through his sweats. delectable.

minho leans in until his lips ghost over yours. "stop testing me," he murmurs.

"stop tempting me," you shoot back.

"but i'm not though?"

"your boobs are."

"my god." he lowers his head to your neck, his soft lips brushing against your exposed skin as he chuckles. "that's not what they are."

"they might as well be. they're gonna be bigger than mine one day."

the sound coming from his mouth morphs into a laugh, airy and completely defeated by your words. "god, you're just so..."

"i'm so what?"

"weird," minho says.

you smile. "perfect for you then, aren't i?"

"mhmm."

then he's closing the gap between his mouth and your neck, lightly sucking on your skin as he rolls his hips against your body, spreading your legs open so he could slot between them more comfortably, so he could fit against you perfectly.

"oh," you gasp when he ruts forward, presses himself into the warmth between your thighs, over your shorts and his sweats. you weave your fingers through his hair to keep his head close to your neck as if he has any intention on moving elsewhere. minho continues to kiss and lick at your skin, nibbling on it gently in alternation.

"i thought..." you breathe out heavily, your body starting to move against his too, "thought you promised to bite me."

"promised? it was more of a threat, wasn't it?"

"same difference."

you can't see him, but you can just bet that minho is rolling his eyes. then, you feel his teeth graze the skin of your neck like he's deciding where the best spot would be. he presses his hard pecs tightly against yours as his mouth closes in. you almost fall apart right then and there.

well, this certainly awakened something in you, didn't it?

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niningtori · 2 months ago

Text

i know it's over | oneshot

read the alternate ending here!

pairing(s): choi beomgyu x you, kang taehyun x you

summary: you love beomgyu — you truly do — you just wish he loved you back, but after a particularly humiliating night in which he shows you just how little he cares, you finally decide enough is enough. enter kang taehyun, a sweet boy who's the polar opposite of beomgyu; but while you begin to develop your relationship with him, beomgyu realizes exactly what he's missing.

genre: ANGST, romance, hurt/comfort, fluff at the end

warnings: toxic relationships

word count: 7.3k

notes: repost/rewrite of one of my first works (formerly titled: to know him is to love him, and i do) THERE WILL BE AN ALTERNATE ENDING, YES the best friend's little brother!beomgyu au won the poll but i'm so hesitant to post it because i hate it so i thought i'd post this for now until i'm able to edit the other work enough to where it's not an actual eyesore.

you're tired. really tired. exhausted, even, as you stalk through the doorway of beomgyu's apartment. you practically tear off your coat, letting it land harshly on the living room floor with a slight thud. beomgyu rolls his eyes and picks it up with a sigh before hanging it up on the rack.

"i told you it was nothing. why are you freaking out?" he asks flatly.

"she was fucking you with her eyes, beomgyu!" you exclaim in frustration.

"and that's my fault how?"

"it's not your fault, but i'm sick of you entertaining women, let alone your actual fucking ex, while i'm standing right next to you!" his ex is just another fish in the barrel, or at least that's what he says, but the thought that they were intimate together at one point still makes you feel sick. truthfully, your boyfriend is handsome, so you've spent the better part of the past 10 months warding off the women who circle him like vultures. you wouldn't mind as much as you do if he seemed at all interested in helping you do so, especially when faced with his ex that you suspect he still has feelings for, but he does not. quite the opposite, actually. it's like he thrives off of the attention and, god, it hurts.

"i'm not entertaining anybody. i told her i have a girlfriend now," he, well, you would say argues, but it's said so nonchalantly it doesn't warrant the term.

"a girlfriend you proceeded to ignore while she hung off of your shoulders and laughed all night! i just don't understand how you don't understand how much it hurts my feelings. i'm a human, too! how would you feel if my ex, who was very clearly interested in me, hung around me right in front of you?" and it's like you're explaining empathy to a child.

"me? i wouldn't give a fuck because it's not that serious," he replies with a slightly irritated shake of his head.

it's always like this. always. you're always the one who cares more between the two of you. you were the one who asked him out in the first place. you were the one who initiated your first kiss. your first fight. hell, even your first reconciliation. you're not stupid, you know he doesn't feel quite the same way you do, but he has to feel something, right? otherwise, why would he say yes to you when he's rejected so many other women? your brain hurts trying to wrap your head around it all.

"you're missing the point! if you were me, you would—" you begin frustratedly, but you cut yourself off. "you know what? i don't even have the energy to explain this to you. i don't understand why i have to explain basic human emotion to you, and i really don't understand why i have to beg and plead for you to care about how i feel!" you all but shriek.

"you don't have to do shit, just leave if you're that fucking unhappy," he spits out angrily, which is the first real emotion — besides mild annoyance — you've seen out of him this entire conversation. he gets impatient when you're like this, which usually results in you relenting, but not tonight. you're far too hurt to let go so easily.

"you're right! i am unhappy! i just — why don't you care that i'm unhappy? what can i do to make you give a fuck about me?" you have a brave face on but you can feel your eyes getting hot and your voice trembling ever so slightly.

"you could try not being so damn needy, maybe that'd help."

your eyes redden even further and your lips unintentionally twist themselves into a sour frown. you hate it when he calls you needy because you do need a lot from him, it feels like. his time. his care. his attention and affection. yet you never seem to get it.

"do you not love me? like at all?" you ask. all of the venom in your tone has been sucked out mercilessly and you sound more helpless than angry.

"do you not realize how fucking crazy you sound?" he scoffs as if he can't fathom why you'd be upset. as if he's not watching you break down in real time.

"why won't you give me a straight answer?" you question, voice softer than it was before.

he does nothing but scowl, and that's enough of an answer as it stands. he doesn't care. never has. probably never will.

"then why'd you even say yes to dating me?" you truly don't understand. you thought you were different. you thought he saw something in you he didn't see in his harem of other suitors, and trust that there were many.

"i dunno. i was just bored, i guess," he answers with a shrug and your world as you know it collapses. the man you love sees you as nothing more than a way to kill time. he's picking you up right now just to toss you away when the next shiny toy presents itself, and so far, you've let him drag you around because you love him — that's how much you love him — but looking at him now, at how unbothered he is, you wonder if you've even got anything left to give.

"i really do love you," you manage to squeeze out with a bitter smile. your poor heart is on display for the naked eye to see, and it seems like he really couldn't care less, but that won't stop you from asking: "does that mean anything at all to you?"

"well, i'm sorry you feel that way," he says simply, "but that's not my fucking problem."

your heart sinks to your stomach and you feel like you're going to throw up. in this moment, as you watch the love of your life dismiss you like you're a fucking dog begging for scraps of food, you feel an overwhelming sense of clarity as you realize he doesn't love you. he doesn't even like you. he probably hates you, actually. like a mental montage, every moment in which he showed you that exact sentiment plays all at once in your head.

all those times you let him choose everything from movies to dinner because the idea of a compromise was inconceivable. all of those occasions, special and otherwise, where you were supposed to go out on a date, but he'd bail without a word and you'd forgive him with no apology. even something as menial as when you'd offer him your share of dessert because he ate all of his and you knew he wanted more, and he'd take it without so much as a thank you. how you'd sit and listen to him tell stories about how amazing his friends were, but he'd never even ask about your day. when those same friends would jokingly call you the perfect girlfriend, and you thought it was an indication of how good your relationship was, but in reality, it was a way to tease him because the thought of actually being with you was so abhorrent and ridiculous that it must be a joke. nobody likes a desperate girl, after all. all those times you told him you loved him and he'd just smile and kiss you deeper. memories like these flood your brain with a vengeance so cruel it makes your head ache, and in a way, you realize it's ridiculous to be surprised when there was so much proof of his feelings in the first place.

"oh. okay," you say with what you hope is a soft and unbothered laugh, but comes out more as a choked one. "i guess there's nothing left to say. i'll get my shit and go."

you hesitate for a few excruciatingly awkward moments before collecting yourself enough to start gathering your things, which are scattered haphazardly around his apartment from his bedroom to his bathroom. it's like a walk of shame, almost, and you feel even shittier when he plops down on the couch with a long suffering sigh as he begins to massage the bridge of his nose. you feel so small in this moment — like a petulant child who just got done throwing an unsuccessful tantrum — and you're now soaking in the sobering aftermath and sitting with the thought that he just watched you have a meltdown like he was watching a monkey putting on a show. how much more is he going to humiliate you? enough is enough, you think, so before you can actually finish collecting all of your belongings, you're scurrying out of the apartment. before you go, you glance back at him one last time.

"beomgyu?" you ask tentatively, tears clouding your eyes.

"yeah?" he replies with a sigh. this is it, you think.

"i don't want to see you ever again," you say firmly. before he can reply, if he ever intended to in the first place, you slam the door.

there's a lot to love about beomgyu. for one, he's handsome, which is obvious, but he has a certain allure you could never help but be drawn in by. he's always been a charming man, but even more so when he's talking to a woman he's interested in. as interested as he could be, that is. he's funny and comically pompous when he wants to be, but still somehow down to earth despite it all.

he's been described as a mood-maker, and while he grew to resent that term, you thought it was at least partially true, if only in the context of your relationship. when he's sad, you're devastated. when he's happy, you're over the fucking moon. his feelings are your whole world — or were, you guess, since all that's over now.

it wasn't all bad all the time, you think. there were times where you thought he really might reciprocate even a fraction of what you felt for him, and most of the time, that was enough. you could work with that. love looks different for everyone, you would reason. maybe he just had a funny way of showing it.

there were days where you'd laugh together and end the night lying in each other's arms while you'd cradle him like he was the most precious thing in the whole world because, to you, he really was. he was normally so boisterous when with his friends, but while he would never admit it to anyone else, he'd tell you about some of his insecurities while you gently combed your fingers through his long, silky hair. he'd speak of regrets and longing for people to take him more seriously. he'd never say it, but he wanted people to see you like you saw him. the real him. you'd let him cry while your hands cupped his cheeks and you'd shush him while he fiddled mindlessly with your hair like a child. you'd kiss the tip of his reddened nose until he laughed instead of cried. times like those, you'd really think you were someone special to him, but now you realize you were wrong. you were just an outlet for him, and anyone willing to be an emotional dumping ground would do the trick, too.

after a few weeks of moping, your sadness has begun to morph into anger and resentment. you spent nearly a year of your life trying to make an emotionally stunted man care about you, and that's not even counting the years of pining over him before you finally worked up the courage to ask him out. it was difficult to see it in the moment, but after being away from him for so long, it's crystal clear that he was honestly just an asshole who didn't really like you. nothing more, nothing less. maybe he'd find someone to change for someday, maybe he'd even work things out with his ex, but for whatever reason, you weren't her. that's just the way it goes, you guess. what really bothers you are the "what if's" of the situation. what if you were prettier, or smarter, or kinder; would he have seen you for who you really are? would he have grown to appreciate you if you had given him more to appreciate?

either way, there's no use crying over spilled milk now. you won't be going back to him any time soon, and he certainly won't come crawling back to you. you'll continue to think of him less and less until your time together fades into a distant (and unpleasant) memory. you smile at the thought.

the first time beomgyu realizes just how impactful your absence is, nothing in particular happens. it's a regular tuesday night a week or so after your "breakup" and he's bored out of his mind. he showers, listens to music, texts his friends and makes himself dinner, but something is missing.

as he sits on his couch, he realizes what it is: you. right about now, you should be pestering him to hang out and showing up on his doorstep to watch a movie. he'd roll his eyes at first, but eventually relent as long as he got to pick the movie, of course. he wouldn't say it, but he'd actually enjoy glancing over and seeing your reactions. you were comically expressive and every twist and turn of the plot had your eyes bulging and mouth agape, turning to him for confirmation that he was seeing the same things you were. when you watched inception for the first time, it absolutely rocked your world.

he's alone, but he puts on a movie, anyway. every so often, his head turns to the side with the corner of his mouth raised, but you're not there to give a reaction. he should be used to your absence by the third twist, but he still finds himself subconsciously turning to you throughout the rest of the movie. when the credits roll, he's half expecting to hear you chatter on about how crazy it was, but it's silent. the only time that would happen would be when you'd accidentally drift off in spite of how engrossed you were. you'd try to fight it off like a stubborn kid, but would succumb by the final act. he smiles at the memory before shaking his head in disbelief. what's wrong with him?

moments like these plague him more and more frequently, but the most notable one is the night before his first day at a new job. he briefly talks to his friends about his excitement, but he's too embarrassed to divulge just how anxious he is. times like this, he'd come over and complain for however long he needed. you'd sit and nod, asking questions during his pauses to encourage him to continue, always adding appropriate and thoughtful commentary.

his thoughts wander to how you're doing alone. you really love him, it seems, so he can only imagine how you're faring without him. he wishes you hadn't blocked his number so he could at least ask how you are. maybe you'd even tell him you miss him. not for the first time, he begins to wonder if he pushed you too far this time around. you've gotten angry and given him the silent treatment before, sure, but you've never blocked him and you've certainly never done it for so long.

he looks you up on instagram for the first time since your breakup. he's not terribly surprised when he sees he's blocked on there too, but all it takes is a switch to his photography account, which you had forgotten to block, to see what you're up to now.

the first thing he notices is a picture of you sitting outside with an ice cream cone in hand, sun encircling you. your smile is beaming and your eyes are crinkled and he can almost hear your giggle through the screen. the caption reads "ice cream date with my best friend!”

he scrambles through his memories to try to remember a time in recent history when you two did something similar, but he comes up blank. what he does recall, though, is you mentioning a new frozen yogurt place you wanted to visit with him for your birthday. he nodded in response, but he knew he wouldn't go with you, opting instead to get shitfaced with his friends. in retrospect, maybe you knew it, too. he had checked his phone the next morning and saw he had at least half a dozen missed calls and well over a dozen texts from you. when he finally texted you back, you took almost a full 5 hours to respond, which was uncommon. usually, you'd text back within minutes. it occurred to him later on that that was your version of the silent treatment, and it amused him that you could only hold out for a few hours. he honestly found it kind of cute.

he remembers what you did for his birthday. how you had secretly invited his friends over to his apartment to surprise him after an especially shitty day at work. he came home to an elaborately decorated apartment and all of his favorite people greeting him. he remembers how happy you looked when he opened up your present to him, which was the guitar he had always secretly wanted but could never quite justify buying for himself. you were so excited, any spectator would think he had gotten you the gift of your dreams and not the other way around. you were practically buzzing with excitement when he pulled you in for a kiss. his friends had whooped at the display of affection, and you giggled shyly at their reaction. what did he get you for your birthday again? anything?

he spends days pondering over this and similar circumstances, which eventually turn into weeks upon weeks. what starts as a nagging feeling that he may have gone too far in his neglect for you becomes guilt and anxiety. he recalls just how torn up you seemed the last time he saw you. to be honest, at the time, he was mostly just irritated. but he never thought you'd actually leave. all he can see is that awful look on your face when you finally ended everything, and all he can remember is the fact that he put it there. he knows in his heart that he has no right to feel this way, but he feels it all the same.

you would have never imagined you'd actually like somebody other than beomgyu, but taehyun makes it as easy as possible given the sticky circumstances. you met at a club your best friend dragged you to, both you and taehyun had to remain sober (designated drivers, of course) and ended up having a surprisingly engaging conversation amidst the blaring music and strobe lights. after that, the rest is history.

he can tell you've been hurt before, but he gently coaxes you into opening up as you spend more and more time with him. you're afraid of being overbearing and coming across as a lovesick puppy again, but taehyun is gentle and seems to enjoy your attention and affection, even if he's a surface level tsundere. more than that, he actually reciprocates it.

do you still think about beomgyu? of course. do you miss him? well, you'd never admit it to a single soul, but the way you see him in everything has to be an indicator that you do. it's getting better, though. more bearable.

a month or so into your relationship, you post about taehyun for the first time. you don't know why you're so nervous about announcing to the world that you have a boyfriend again, but happiness overwhelms your fear when you're met with nothing but positivity.

beomgyu is shellshocked, to put it mildly. the picture of you and your so-called boyfriend is sickly sweet. it's not over the top or anything—just a candid of you in a café holding hands with him while looking over the same menu. the caption is nothing other than a heart and squirrel emoji (why?) and both he and your best friend are tagged. his finger jumps to the boy's profile and he sees the same photo. he scoffs at the cheesiness of it all, but his heart aches at the way all of your friends have commented on the post expressing their happiness for you — they had never approved of him for reasons he's only now beginning to understand.

you always defended him in front of your friends no matter what he did or didn't do. you'd "comfort" him after your friends said something snarky and explain that they just didn't understand him. you'd say that if they knew the real him, they'd see him differently. at the time, he'd scoff and say something along the lines of "i don't need for them to see me differently because i couldn't give less of a fuck about what they think”. you'd be hurt, of course you would be, but you'd never say so.

more and more, like an outsider looking in, he can see just how awful he was to you. it's to his horror that he realizes this must be the case for you, too. the chances of you getting back together with him seem slimmer and slimmer, especially now that you've got that pretty boy on your arm. your words echo in his mind as if to haunt him: "what can i do to make you give a fuck about me?" leave, apparently, and don't look back.

he can't keep living like this.

a knock on your door is all it takes to ruin your night — you had actually had a really good day up until now. you and taehyun had gone on a breakfast date and napped together until he had to leave in the afternoon, so you're humming now in contentment while applying your nightly skincare, thinking relentlessly about the boy you think you might be starting to love. it feels different from the love you felt for beomgyu, but in a good way. you still think about him and wonder how he's doing, but you always derail that train of thought with a god-given force previously unknown to you. he doesn't care about you, you chant to yourself — it's almost like your daily mantra. in the midst of your thoughts, you hear a knock on the door. you smile widely when you surmise that it's probably taehyun again. you don't realize just how big your grin is until it drops.

standing before you is not your lovely boyfriend, but the man who made you question whether or not you were even lovable in the first place. he has a small smile on his face, and if you were to look a little more carefully, you'd notice that he actually seems a little nervous.

"hi," he says, breaking the silence. his heart is racing a mile a minute, and potential scenarios battered his mind the entire way here. what would you do when you saw him? smile? he could handle that. cry? he could also handle that, even if he didn't want to see your tears. what he is not prepared for is the blankness of your features when you ask:

"what are you doing here?"

his smile falters almost imperceptibly.

"i, uh, i just wanted to see you." you're merciful enough to give him a nod of encouragement to continue. "a-and i wanted to tell you that i haven't stopped thinking about you for the past few months, and that i, um, i think i'm finally ready to be with you," he finishes with a shaky breath.

you're quiet for a moment and squint your eyes as if you're deep in thought.

"but i thought you were dating someone now? your ex?"

"i'm not!" he says almost a little too quickly.

"i heard you were," you counter, not quite believing him. you heard he had been seeing his ex from one of your friends who happened to live in her apartment complex. she had seen his car in the parking lot a few times in the last couple of weeks and had no reason to lie to you.

"w-well, i've seen her a few times, but not seriously. i — to be honest, i was just trying to get over you, but i've finally realized that i can't becau—"

"so, just to make sure i understand, you're not over me so you're seeing her?" his eyes widen in shock before his head hangs in shame as he realizes exactly what he's done and how he must look to you right about now, but you're not finished. "isn't that what you were doing with me?" your voice is low and indifferent, but each word feels tailor-made to slash at his heart. "wow, i guess some things really never change, but don't worry, i'm sure once she moves on, you'll finally see the good in her instead of me," you spit out.

"can you listen to me? please?" beomgyu is so ashamed he wants to die. he fumbles for the right words, but when he accidentally makes eye contact with you, they die on his lips. he wishes you would give him time to process what you're saying and mull over what to respond with because you always knew he was bad with words, but he supposes he lost the right to your patience a long time ago.

"you want me to listen to you so you can fuck with my head until the next person rolls around?" the latter words are strangled by the tightness in your throat, and he can't help but wince. when he thinks it's over, you continue.

"nobody has ever made me feel as small as you have. i hated myself because of you," your lip trembles and before he can say a word, you're raising your hand to shut the door.

"wait, wait, wait! just let me say this," he pleads as he gently grasps the doorframe. "i... i love you." he almost thinks he hears you gasp, but he's too busy looking into your unreadable eyes to know for sure. he has never said anything like this to you before. you're completely silent for a few moments before breaking the tense atmosphere.

"j-jesus, i mean, i guess i just don't know what to say," you sputter and his eyes alight with what looks suspiciously like hope. "except maybe that... i'm sorry you feel that way?" you finish with a sardonic smile and a roll of your eyes. before he can respond, which he actually intends to do this time around, you slam the door in his face.

if you were to ask beomgyu if he loved his ex mere months ago, he'd say he didn't know for sure, but probably. they ended things rather messily, which seems to be a trend for him, but if he really thinks about it, he doesn't know what he liked about her after all. if he had to pinpoint it, he liked the thrill of the chase and the idea of never knowing how explosive things would inevitably get between the two of them. he liked the toxicity. only now does he understand that that wasn't love at all, but some sort of sick game of hurting and being hurt he doesn't want to play anymore. he doesn't want to hurt the people around him, especially not you, but it would appear that that sentiment has presented itself a little too late.

there's always been a lot to love about you. always. you're so kind and so incredibly patient, at least with the people you love. you're thoughtful and intentional with your words and actions. you're not perfect, but you try your best to be a good and fair person. and you listen. like, really listen. the kind of listening where you're not just waiting for your turn to talk, but the kind where you genuinely want to know what the other person has to say. even if he didn't know it at the time, beomgyu always did love you. was it in the way you deserved? obviously, with the way things are now, it's perfectly clear it was not.

even if he does bump into you, it's completely pointless. you made it perfectly clear that you want nothing to do with him. the last thing you said to him echoes in his head with an unspeakable viciousness.

"i'm sorry you feel that way." he didn't realize just how cruel those words were until they were falling from your lips instead of his. he didn't realize just how cruel he was in general.

he ponders over how succinctly you summed up your entire dynamic:

"i don't understand why i have to explain basic human emotion to you, and i really don't understand why i have to beg and plead for you to care about how i feel!" to be honest? he doesn't understand why you had to do that, either.

contrary to what one might suppose about him given his overall shitty personality, he had actually had a pretty good go at life. he was innately able to make the world sit and watch him go, and he wouldn't let anyone forget it. but what should he do since you don't want to watch him anymore? what should he do since you don't want anything to do with him anymore?

as he sits in the extremely uncomfortable chair of his new least favorite bar, he's confronted by this truth over and over again. he's not completely sure why he's even here — he hates this place, but he remembers you mentioning you liked to come here. in hindsight, there's no doubt that that was a way to hint that you'd like to come with him, but what use is it to recognize it now, after all this time?

not much, apparently. or at least that's what his conscience is telling him. he should leave, he thinks. he should stop coming here every night hoping he'll run into you because it's wrong to make you uncomfortable when you've said in no uncertain terms that you don't want him anymore. he should, he should, he should. and he will, really. in just a minute. that's what he tells himself, but he just watches the door as he gets drunker and drunker, still.

he's on the brink of literally passing out when he hears a sound he'd recognize anywhere: your laugh. he actually thinks he's hallucinating just because he wants to hear it so fucking badly, but it takes the sound of your voice to convince him it's real. you're actually here. he's incredibly drunk, so the idea of being tactful escapes him. he can't miss this chance.

you try, and try, and try some more, but you can't seem to forget beomgyu's last words to you. he loves you? you scoff at the idea. does he even know what love is? it doesn't feel like it — truly, it doesn't. if that's what his love feels like, you'd rather not feel it at all.

that's what you keep trying to hammer into your head along with the idea that you're doing well, and you are doing well. seriously. things with taehyun are better than ever and you can really see yourself building a life with him. everything feels so pure and brand new. your feelings for him may lack the intensity that you felt with beomgyu, but that was years in the making, so it's only fair that you nurture the love that's blossoming between the two of you while smothering out the embers of what used to be with beomgyu. it's only right, right? it should be, but the way you're so torn makes your head spin.

so you decide to go to your favorite bar and forget about everything for the night. it's been a long while since you've let loose, and you're excited. you're surrounded by your friends and you're ready to let go. it's only when you excuse yourself to get some fresh air that you realize fate has other plans.

when you're walking to the curb to take a seat, you feel a tug on your elbow and whip around.

"who —" you stop dead in your tracks as your eyes meet with beomgyu's misty ones. the ones you used to love so much.

"hey," he says weakly.

"what do you want?" you seethe while harshly yanking your elbow from his grasp. his lips purse and even in the dim lighting outside of the bar, you can see his eyes water even more. he's always been such a baby when he's drunk.

"i just wanna talk," he pleads. he sounds so out of it and looks so pathetic you almost feel bad for him. almost.

"i have nothing to say to you," you reply coldly.

"but i do." he sounds desperate to a degree that you sincerely never thought you'd hear.

"what, are you gonna tell me you love me again?" you retort with a roll of your eyes. you're obviously being sarcastic, but all he can think in his drunken state is how pretty your eyes shine even when they're impatient to look away from him.

"if you're not gonna say anything, i'm leaving," you snap, turning away, but beomgyu is awoken from his daze and gently pulls you back.

"n-no! i mean, yes. i love you, b-but that's not what i wanted to say."

"well, what did you want to say?" you ask, tone laced with annoyance.

seeing that you'll actually give him a chance to hear him out, he scrambles for a moment before clearing his throat. he’s so anxious that you can see his hands shaking as he wrings them.

"i just want to tell you that i’m sorry. i know i’ve said it before, but i want you to hear it again, and i’ll tell you as many times as it takes for you to believe me. i want to make it up to you — i really do — and i know that i can change. i'm — i just miss you so much i can't stand it. i-if you don’t feel the same way, or don’t care, or however it is, i understand; but i meant it when i said i love you, and i mean it now when i say that i'm so, so fucking sorry," his voice cracks as he finishes and hot tears threaten to find their way down his face.

"beomgyu..." you begin, not really sure what to say. what is there to say? and any hope he has of being with you is almost extinguished when he sees how much you pity him in this moment, but he'll hold on for as long as you'll let him.

"you said you saw the real me. you know i'm not all bad, right? i'm a piece of shit, but i can't be all bad," he pleads, tears now streaming unabashedly from his eyes. maybe if he can just find the right words, you won't leave him.

"beomgyu," you sigh, "i've never thought that about you. i know you're not all bad," his face perks up at this and he's tempted to bury his face in your neck and sob in pure relief. the pain he's been feeling for the past few months is about to be over because you understand him. always have. even though he's like this, you can still see the good in him. just the thought alone is enough to fill him with pure ecstasy. he goes to close the distance between the two of you to pull you into his embrace, but you gently place your hand on his chest before he can come any closer.

"thank you for telling me how you feel, beomgyu, but if you think you can fix everything with a few words, you're delusional." his face crumbles at this and a sense of panic and dread pools in his stomach.

"w-what? b-but you said —"

"i know you're sorry, and i know you'd probably try to make it up to me if i let you, but that's not enough. you really hurt me, okay? and it's just, you know, i'm finally happy now, and i have taehyun. i really like him, beomgyu. and he really likes me," you say with a fond smile, as if you're thinking of taehyun right now, and his heart shatters into a million pieces.

"it's okay," he smiles bitterly, tears still flowing freely. "i... i understand. i just want you to be happy. i want you to be so happy. you deserve it."

"but..."

"go back in," he sniffles. "you don't need to stay here with me anymore." he swipes at his eyes with his sleeve and tries to send you off with a smile, but it's so forlorn, you wish he'd just keep frowning.

"... okay." you turn away, and even though he told you to do it, he can't help but feel an even bigger lump in his throat now that you're actually listening to him.

"beomgyu?" you say softly, before you enter the door.

his damned heart can't help but flutter again against his will.

"yes?"

"don't wait for me anymore, okay?" and he knows you’re being kind, but it feels so final, it hurts more than any hateful words ever could. he should agree, but the ugly and selfish part of him refuses to lie, so he just shakes his head and waves you off. his love is ugly and his heart is broken, but it's still yours to have.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs again to nobody but himself as you enter the bar.

“tyuuunn,” you whine into your phone’s speaker. you can’t tell how it's been since your final conversation with beomgyu, but now you’re drunk and all you can think about is taehyun. about his kindness, how happy he makes you feel, and how much you want to give him all of that in return.

“what is it, baby?” he coos. even in your inebriated state, you can hear the smile in his voice and it makes you wanna smile, too.

“miss youuu,” you groan. he laughs at your childishness, and you can feel just how much he’s doting on you. it’s a relatively new feeling, being cared for like this, but it’s one you welcome with fervor.

“let me pick you up from that stupid bar so you can stay the night. how’s that sound?”

“mmm, hurry up,” you pout, and he just laughs again. god, you’re gonna feel so embarrassed by your neediness come tomorrow morning, and he can’t wait to tease you.

taehyun is so eager to see you, he almost gets pulled over twice while making his way to the bar. he just can’t wait to see how cute you’ll look in his arms, all whiny and grumpy and begging for affection; and he’ll baby you, like he always does, because you deserve it. when he had heard about your appalling history with beomgyu, he couldn’t believe how someone could treat a person as sweet as you so cruelly. truth be told, you do have a bit of a softer personality, but that only evoked the need to protect and cherish you in taehyun. he can’t fathom the idea that somebody would see someone so pure and decide to take advantage instead of nurturing that innocence. his friends keep saying he’s a sucker, and they’re probably right, but he’ll happily be one for you.

he’s lost in his thoughts when he pulls into the parking lot of the bar you’re in, but his dopey grin drops the second he sees your dreaded ex stumbling away from the building. his face is red, and he’s feverishly wiping away tears and snot. taehyun is a smart man, so he can easily piece together what must have happened, but the thought that you were still thinking of taehyun in this moment comforts him. you had run into your ex, and instead of running back to him, you’re thinking of your new boyfriend. what a relief. taehyun has always known you were still a little broken up about your split with beomgyu. he came into this relationship fully knowing that, but he liked you so much, he really didn’t care. maybe it was rash of him, but he thought it was worth taking a chance. he thought you were worth taking a chance, and so far, he had been correct.

he parks and stays in his car. if he were a petty person, he might ignore beomgyu and just walk right by him with his arm wrapped around your waist. taehyun, however, is a good person. so good, in fact, he waits for beomgyu’s friend to pick him up before leaving his car to find you.

when he enters the bar, he scans the crowd before he finds you sitting with your friends. your phone is to your ear and it only takes a few seconds for his own to ring. he smiles when he sees your contact photo (the one you both took on a date to your favorite frozen yogurt shop) appear on his screen. he rejects the call and watches you pout before striding over to you and placing his hand on your shoulder. you turn around with a scowl, but your features immediately melt, and you grace him with a toothy grin. you excitedly squeal and wrap your arms around him. he matches your enthusiasm as he peppers your face with kisses.

beomgyu, who has very unfortunately come back to get his phone, watches it all and it’s enough to make him nauseous. he’s in such a daze as he watches you two that he barely registers his own friend honking at him to hurry up. he sees the afterimage of you leaning into taehyun’s touch and accepts the fact that you’ve truly moved on and won’t be coming back. he replays the last conversation you had and he decides he’ll hold onto your words forever. they’re all he has left, after all.

you’re so used to taehyun’s apartment that even though you’re drunk enough to see stars, you’re still able to navigate it with ease. taehyun sits you down on his couch and kneels while removing your shoes for you.

“so chivalrous,” you giggle.

“anything for my princess,” he replies cheekily with the biggest grin you’ve ever seen.

“why are you so nice?”

“because i like you,” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“i like you, too.” you whisper while your face warms. your gaze becomes heated, and he cups your cheeks while gently guiding your face towards his. his touch is soft, and his lips? even softer.

he doesn’t push for more. you’re drunk and vulnerable at the moment, so he graciously grabs some of his clothes for you to change into and waits for you to come to bed. when you do, you plop down and he pulls you into his arms. you smile at his earnestness. he locks his arms around you, and for the first time in your life, a man is making you feel so happy and secure you can’t help but melt into the feeling. you feel safe. you feel loved.

“i really like you, you know?” he whispers into your hair, and it’s all you can do to keep your heart inside of your chest.

“i know. i really like you, too.” and you do. things with taehyun are still new, but as his breathing slows, you realize this is how love should be, and you think you want to be with him for a long, long time.

notes pt. 2: yes there will be an alternate ending where she ends up with gyu :,)

[taglist]

permanent (sfw only): @defnotleee @yaoizee

permanent (sfw/[n]sfw): @lonelybutterflytae @cherrycolaberry @midwinterblizzard @sooberryworld @20-cms @hyueika @boba-beom @vicurious28 @blossommi @lickingan0rchid @katsukis1wife @binniebakery @notevenheretbh1 @shymexican @that1sadgrl @archoive @paegesoobin @buttercreamerie @ifwtxt @softesyoongi @serenityism00 @fairfootedflekk @kyanmeai @definitelynotherr @hyunj00 @taehyunluvrs @m00gyu @denleave1088 @hwanghyunjinismybae @bmo-bri

if you would like to join any of my taglists, send an ask or join here!

#niningtori #i know it's over #beomgyu fic #taehyun fic #txt fic #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu x you #taehyun x reader #taehyun x you #txt x you #beomgyu angst #taehyun angst #txt angst #taehyun fluff #txt fluff #txt fanfic #beomgyu fanfic #taehyun fanfic

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theresattrpgforthat · 3 months ago

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How To Find Cool Games: On Itch.io!

As I drift into a reduced posting schedule, I figured I’d give everyone a peek behind the screen for how I cultivate ttrpgs for recommendations! Some of these tips might even help you find your next favourite game.

This is a long read so let's put most of this beast under a read-more. Keep in mind that many of these strategies work best when you're checking itch.io a little bit every week, and when you're engaging with the platform as more than just a store page. There's a lot of features that you can choose to engage with if you want to find the game for you!

browsing physical game recent releases. This helps me see what’s new and happening, and it helps with a number of things. First of all, I get to see new games pretty much every time I browse recent releases. Secondly, I get a good sense of what’s currently popular in the design space. Thanks to my weekly browsing, I recognize Cy_Borg, Shadowdark and Mausritter as games whose content shows up rather regularly - if you see a lot of products attached to one game at once, that’s a good sign that there’s a related game jam going on (in this case, Shadowdark), or that a game is really resonating with its player base.

sorting games into collections. I personally organize by genre, system, player configuration and (in Games That Intrigue Me) games that I’m personally really hyped about. This works for me because of the nature of my work, but a few collections sorted according to level of interest or game style might work better for you.

Depending on the need, I might have a collection that works specifically for the request - Neon Lights & Cyber Nights is perfect for cyberpunk games, but I might also reference this folder for combat, inventory mechanics, resistance themes, or interesting tech rules. LUMEN is great for folks who want fast-paced games, folks who are looking for certain kinds of video games, or folks who want to feel powerful. If you follow other people on Itch, you'll probably also be able to see their collections, which is a great place to browse.

searching game tags. I don’t typically use the regular search feature, although recently the website did update the toggles to restrict your results to physical games, video games, etc. Instead what I usually do is type what I’m looking for into the url: so in this case, [deck-building]. I might use a couple different wordings, such as [deck-builder] and [deckbuilding] (no spaces). You’re not going to find everything that includes the thing you’re looking for, but you’ll definitely find places to start.

Game Jams! I find these either by looking at the “Jams” tab (although you'll have to wade through video games here) or by noticing that a number of games being published recently have the “for the _” jam in the description. Alternatively, I might be reading the page for a game and see the little “Submission” badge in interaction buttons. There’s game jams for specific systems, game jams for various themes, game jams with special restrictions, and game jams that are titled things like “finish your damn game jam.”

Bundles. I typically buy big-ass bundles and then sort through the games in my downtime. These games are sorted into collections for future reference, and if a game really pops out - into the Intrigue Me folder it goes! And the best part is that I already own it, so if I want to learn more, I can just download it and start reading.

following game designers that I like. This way I’ll get notifications if they release a new game, update an old game, rate someone else’s game, or sort games into their own collections. I also get to see what other folks in the space are excited about - on the day I was browsing, Plasmodics by Will Jobst was really hot.

If you follow me on Itch, you’ll get a notification every time I add a game to one of my non-private folders! Also - you can interact with designers on Itch by liking their updates, and even commenting on their posts, which is a great way to get involved in the design community - and also just make a designer’s day!

#how to #tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #itch.io #mint speaks #I don't think I can over-emphasize how much you can contribute to the game scene #simply by leaving a comment on a game or an update post #interaction on an itch page indicates that there's interest #which motivates designers to design #it tells us that our game is resonating with someone

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seikkoi · 1 year ago

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𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐄 | dom!wanda maximoff x f!reader

18+ minors dni | dark-ish content warning

content/warnings: explicit sexual content, female domination themes, spanking, overstimulation, choking if you squint,

genre: pure smut, minimal braincells

word count: 1,554

Your typically patient wife has had enough of your attitude.

Your eyes squeezed shut, body tensing as Wanda’s palm meets your skin again. You’re draped over her lap, nails digging into the soft suit pants at her thighs when another strike meets your ass. With every delicious sting, her other hand alternates between stroking your clothed back or fondling your hair. You writhe at the pain, legs restricted by your pants pulled down to your ankles. Normally, Wanda had the patience to undress you fully before punishing you. Normally, she would have stopped five minutes ago. But then again, you normally acted like less of a brat.

ᗢ

It was late when Wanda returned home, much later than usual. The busyness of the day affairs kept her from giving you a heads-up. You had a good two hours to build up your attitude about her tardiness. The ticking hands of the clock served as taunting background music while you watched dinner grow cold.

You couldn’t fathom a reason she at least didn’t call to tell you, angrily putting away dinner and showering. The front door knob turned just as you re-entered the living room. Wanda, your ever-beautiful wife, wore tiredness in her face, but still greeted you with a smile. Seeing the dark, curve-hugging suit she wore to work made it difficult to be upset anymore, but not impossible. Before she could explain anything, you were on her case. Endless rhetoric about the importance of punctuality and communication spouted from your mouth. You gave no credence to the perfectly reasonable explanation she gave- only responding with more attitude.

Wanda merely stood, unable to get much of a word in. You, too deep into your rant, don’t notice when she goes silent, removing her suit jacket and rolling the sleeves of her crisp white button-up. You didn’t notice the sly grin tugging at her mouth, or when she took slow, heavy steps towards you.

“You done, darling?” she cooed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

The house was dim, with enough light for you to see the familiar glint in her green eyes. There was a firmness to her touch, fingertips dragging against your cheek. Only then did you realize how unfair you were being, and how much you just fucked up.

“I just-You didn’t call, you always call.” Your body relaxed at her touch, anticipation swirling in your stomach. You'd been with Wanda long enough to know what your behavior would earn you.

“And I apologized for that, my love.” Her palm wraps around your hair, tugging your head back to look at her. “But you were too busy mouthing off to hear it.”

ᗢ

That’s how you earned your current position, a whimpering, soaked, half-dressed mess in Wanda’s lap. You had eagerly submitted to this punishment, albeit still stubbornly. You hadn’t held back a snippy remark when Wanda sat and gestured to her lap, which was probably why your punishment was much, much longer than usual.

You are lucky though, because the sight of you like this, suddenly very apologetic and needy, starts to drive Wanda insane, filling her head with more ideas.

“On the bed.” It’s a short and breathy command that you follow all too quickly, pulling your pants off completely before lying on the cool sheets. Wanda kneels next to you, staring down at your flushed body like a meal waiting to be devoured.

A moment passes as you shift your weight off your tender skin and meet Wanda’s eyes, praying that she’d forgiven your earlier behavior.

Almost like she’s read your mind, Wanda’s crooked smile returns as her hand dances behind your underwear.

“You can be such a good girl, but only when you want to be, hm?” Her other hand strokes your thigh, fingers sliding along your folds in the same slow place as her taunt.

Your body was far too worked up and sensitive for her teasing, groaning from the lack of attention she knew you needed. You tried to move your sore hips, anything to increase her speed, but a firm push on your thigh stopped that.

“You’re being a little harsh here,” you whined, still trying to gain even an inch of friction.

“You think you deserve any better right now?” Wanda prevented you from responding with more protest by quickly inserting the teasing digit into you, making you arch against the mattress.

Her goal now seemed to be just shutting you up, adding a second digit and relentlessly fucking you. It borders on being too much too quickly. You can feel the warmth spreading across your skin as Wanda presses a thumb to your clit. You were now an even bigger mess than before, moaning and jerking against her. Wanda still kept you in place, replacing the hand at your thigh with her knee on your hip. With the way your body still reacts, trying to move against her, you’re certain you'll have a fresh set of bruises there now.

Wanda soaks in every twitch however, drunk on your moans. When your mouth hangs in an open gasp, eyes fluttering, she gives you no reprise, curving the slender digits inside you.

“Shit, Wanda, that’s too much-”, your own sounds of pleasure cut you off, feeling your peak rip through you with little warning. The dampness of the sheets reaches your thighs as you swear and cry out Wanda’s name.

You learned that you were still paying for your outburst, with Wanda’s pace going unchanged. The pleasure transitioned from bliss to overwhelming as she fucked you through your orgasm and long after. The knee holding you down could barely be felt, mind too absorbed in the feeling between your legs.

You feel like a puddle of water beneath her. Your excitement coated her fingers, making every thrust into you glide with ease. You can hardly process the digits against your walls, crying out each time she reaches your hilt or adds more pressure to your clit. When you feel your second orgasm building, the overstimulating pleasure pricks fresh tears from your tightly shut eyes.

“W-wanda, please, I can’t.” you cry, gripping aimlessly at the damp sheets beneath you.

You try a bit harder to sit up, moving your hips away from hold. Wanda isn’t having it, though- her free hand makes its way to your throat, pushing you back down. The smile on her face is infectious, gleaming at your pleas.

“So polite all of a sudden, tsk,” Wanda scoffs, stretching you further with a third finger. You groan at the sensation, eyes rolling when she finds her pace again.

“I’ll make sure you don’t forget your manners next time, draga.”

#marvel fanfiction #mcu smut #mcu fanfic #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #scarlet witch x reader #avengers fanfiction #seikkoiwrites

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fantasyescapes17 · 7 months ago

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Spinsters do not Need Chaperones (Part 1)

Chaperones are for beautiful young girls. A plain older woman like you, with neither fortune nor youth to recommend her, is hardly in danger of losing her virtue. You've long resigned yourself to always being the supporting role in someone else’s romance.

But could it be that love and marriage have not disappeared entirely beyond your reach? This spinster may capture the heart of an eligible bachelor yet, if only she makes the right choices…

Genre: Seventeen hiphop unit x female! reader (alternate plots and endings for each member) Regency!AU (Sort of Bridgerton-esque but we keep it PG).

Word Count: 6.3k+

Series Masterlist here

Part 2 coming soon!

The carriage rumbled down the cobblestone streets, past fancy tea parlours and luxurious shops that only the most elite of London society could afford to frequent. You barely had time to glance at the names of the shops before they whizzed past you. The carriage was going at break-neck speed.

You seized the armrest and looked over at your travel companion and aunt, Lady Beaumont.

“Perhaps, my dear aunt,” you said shakily as the carriage hit a particularly painful bump on the road, “we might ask the driver to slow down?”

Lady Beaumont turned to you sharply. Her crinkled eyes and face resembled that of a vulture’s- curved and without compassion. You almost flinched when she glowered at you.

“Don't be silly! We are already running very, very late!” Lady Beaumont scolded.

“Yes, but would it not increase our tardiness if we were to have an accident on the way?” you pointed out.

Your hand was squeezed tightly by the young woman seated beside you. Julia Beaumont was Lady Beaumont’s only daughter and an innocent and sweet young girl of nineteen. Her big eyes were wide and she looked worried. This was your cousin’s first time in London among elite society. Julia had been kept sheltered and protected by her mother all her life and, as a result, was both naive and full of wonder.

The carriage rolled up at the large Beaumont house in the middle of London. It had barely come to a full halt before Lady Beaumont leapt out at a speed surprising for her advanced age, and started barking orders at the servants.

“Come take the trunks inside-quickly now!” she yelled at the porter. “Send the dresses up to the bed chambers urgently, we have barely an hour to prepare ourselves for dinner with the Chois- did you not hear me? I said send the dresses up first!”

You left the poor servants to handle Lady Beaumont’s wrath. Instead, you pushed past and went up the front stairs, smiling brightly at the head housekeeper who was waiting in the foyer.

“Mrs. Milly!” you greeted the older woman happily. You had known the housekeeper for years, having lived in London and this very house during your formative years. She had always been kind to you.

Mrs. Milly smiled at you brightly. “It is wonderful to see you again, Miss Beaumont. Have you been well?”

You sighed and glanced back to make sure your aunt was out of earshot. “Suffice it to say that I am happy to be back in London. But I have no time to tell you everything- we are about to be quite late to dinner with the Choi family and I fear my aunt will explode in flames if she discovers us chatting. I promise to speak to you properly tomorrow, Mrs. Milly.”

Mrs. Milly nodded and handed an envelope to you. “Of course, Miss Beaumont. I only wanted to give you a letter that arrived for you this morning.”

You took the letter with surprise. “A letter? But I had not informed anyone I was coming to London, except for…”

“Miss Kim. She delivered it personally and insisted that I give it to you as soon as you arrive, without a moment's delay,” Mrs. Milly replied.

You grinned. “Of course, who else would write to me but my dear Miss Kim? I shall read it immediately.”

“Don't let Lady Beaumont see you.”

You hurried up the winding staircase towards your usual bedchambers. The large London Beaumont house had been your grandfather’s while he was alive, and had been passed down in your extended family for generations. You spent many of your innocent childhood years playing in these vast halls, ignorant of strange adult concepts like inheritance and the entailment of ancestral estates which meant that the Beaumont house would never be fully yours. You were, and would always be, merely a guest here.

But heavens, it felt like home.

You hurried to dress for dinner. Your aunt would come upstairs any moment and scream at you if you did not seem ready. But as the handmaids helped tie up the laces of your gown, you couldn't resist the urge to rip open the envelope from Miss Kim and scan its contents.

My dear Miss Beaumont,

I was so delighted to learn that you would be in London today, that I simply could not resist the urge to write to you with my most recent news- my dearest friend, I am engaged to be married!

Mr. Park has asked for my hand and I have accepted him. We are to be married by September, here in London. I know that Lady Beaumont is unlikely to remain here beyond August, but I must beg you not to return to the countryside with her and instead stay with me in London to help me prepare for my wedding. I insist upon it most fervently- I shall not be married unless my dearest friend is in attendance!

I know you must be confused. You would have expected my engagement to be with a certain Mr. J. In that regard I can only say that I have put Mr. J behind me and I will tell you the details of what has occured when we meet in person.

Come to mine for breakfast tomorrow. Mingyu and Mama are eager to see you as well.

Yours,

Miss Kim.

You stared at the letter in shock. Miss Kim, despite being two years younger than you, was your closest friend in the world. You had both attended the same private seminary for girls in London during your teenage years and bonded strongly through a shared hatred for etiquette lessons and delight in tormenting your governesses. There was really nobody alive that you trusted and adored more than Miss Kim.

You had never doubted that she would marry, and marry well. Miss Kim was blessed with the excellent genes that ran in the Kim family. She also had a charming personality and a bountiful dowry of thirty thousand pounds. She would have almost any man she set her heart upon.

It had been your understanding that she had set her heart upon Mr. Jeon Wonwoo. Miss Kim had been waxing eloquent about her admiration for the handsome and mysterious gentleman that she was courting over the summer, so her sudden engagement to someone else- a Mr. Park whom you had never even heard of before- was very surprising to you and you couldn't understand it.

You had to respond to her letter immediately. You had just turned over the paper and were searching for some ink when the door to your bedchambers opened and Lady Beaumont entered.

“Are you ready for dinner yet?” your aunt demanded. You quickly stashed your friend’s letter between the folds of your dress and nodded.

“Yes, of course, Aunt.”

“Come outside. I wish to speak to you alone.”

Lady Beaumont disappeared down the corridor and you sighed, forced to follow her downstairs where the carriage was waiting to take your family to dinner at the Choi manor. Your aunt turned to you suddenly with an anxious expression.

“I expect you to be very thoughtful about your behaviour tonight,” Lady Beaumont said in a low voice.

You blinked at her.

“I’m afraid I don't understand,” you replied. Your aunt held no particular fondness for you, you knew that. She had been forced into the role of your guardian by the unexpected death of your parents. But you had still been brought up in a noble family, attended one of the most prestigious girls’ seminaries in London and been out in polite society for many years. Surely there was no reason to suspect you could not behave yourself at a dinner?

Your aunt sighed. “Don't be intentionally obtuse. You are old enough to understand- you are practically a spinster now. You know perfectly well why it is so important that our dinner with the Choi family be a successful one.”

You did know, but you couldn't pass up the opportunity to force your Aunt to explain herself to you. Perhaps in saying it aloud she would recognise how manipulative she sounded.

“Remind me, dear Aunt,” you said lightly.

“The moment your uncle, Lord Beaumont- passes away, the Beaumont estate will be lost to us. It is entailed, you know, and there are no near male relations to inherit it according to the terms of the entailment. Oh! How unfair that the home which you and Julia have grown up in must be taken away from you due to some ancient rules about inheritance by male primogeniture!”

You simply blinked. You had heard your Aunt complain about this before. Hearing about the terms of the estate's entailment did not bring you any joy, but it was hardly news. The latest generation of the Beaumont family consisted only of daughters- you and your cousin Julia. Neither your late father nor your uncle had borne sons.

“Yes, I know,” you replied.

“Once your uncle passes, the estate shall be inherited by his distant relations- the Chois, and in particular their eldest son Mr. Choi Seungcheol. You, I and poor Julia shall be put out on the streets quite immediately! You understand that the only way to protect ourselves from the terrible consequences of this entail is for Mr. Choi to marry our dear Julia. At least then, the Beaumont estate will remain in our family.”

You pressed your fingers to your forehead. You had known what she planned even before Lady Beaumont explained it to you. It was her grand scheme for Julia to marry Mr. Choi Seungcheol so that the Beaumont estate was not lost to some distant relations. You could sympathise. It was not easy to accept that the estate your family had possessed for generations would so easily be handed to a complete stranger.

“I am conscious of your intentions, dear aunt,” you told her patiently. “I cannot think what my behaviour has to do with it.”

“Julia is young and beautiful and has many charms to recommend her to Mr. Choi, but we must do our best to encourage the match. I shall contrive ways for them to spend more time together, but they must be chaperoned. I shall expect your support in this regard.”

You blinked at her. “You want me to chaperone Julia? I thought your presence would be sufficient, aunt, why does Julia require another chaperone?”

Lady Beaumont frowned. “I may be old but I am not ignorant to the ways of youth. Mr. Choi will hardly be able to court Julia properly if her mother is always hanging about. The presence of parents puts a damper on romance. No, it must be you who chaperones them and you must encourage him to pay attention to her. Julia is too young and foolish to handle Mr. Choi with delicacy- and there is simply too much at stake.”

You raised an eyebrow. You didn’t look forward to chaperoning your young cousin about her courtships, but it was a small sacrifice to make. At least Lady Beaumont was conscious that her own presence would not be conducive to the proposed romance. You had to give your aunt some credit for her self-awareness.

“Yes, aunt, if that is what you wish. I will be happy to chaperone Julia and encourage Mr. Choi to court her in whatever way I can,” you replied.

“Yes. We can only hope that in contrast to you, Julia will look young and pretty and lively and manage to capture Mr. Choi’s attention,” your Aunt added bluntly.

The underlying insult did not go unheard. You were clearly too old and dull and plain to pose a threat to Julia. You tried not to be offended. Being in your late twenties and possessing only a paltry dowry meant that spinsterhood was bearing heavily upon you. You would not be attractive to rich, well-bred bachelors like Mr. Choi. Lady Beaumont was correct to think that Julia was the better bet.

“I shall try my best to bring Julia’s charms into contrast,” you replied tiredly.

“I also hear Mr. Choi has a younger brother named Vernon. He is not due to inherit anything at all, so we must ensure he does not set his sights upon Julia. That would be quite disastrous. You must keep him safely at a distance,” your Aunt pressed.

You raised an eyebrow. “You have many expectations, dear aunt.”

Lady Beaumont bristled. “This is your obligation to our family. You failed to secure a rich husband while you were young and somewhat pretty, despite your uncle spending so much money to have you educated at a private seminary in London. Now you must at least do your best for your cousin.”

“I will always have Julia’s best interests at heart,” you promised.

“Good. Let us hurry- Julia! Julia, are you ready to leave? The carriage is waiting for us outside, we haven't a moment to delay!”

—--------------------------------------------------

The letter from your friend Miss Kim was still tucked into the folds of your dress and you had a few moments of leisure to think about it as the Beaumont carriage rumbled down to the Choi manor.

What could have possessed Miss Kim to abandon her courtship with the mysterious Mr. Jeon and become engaged to somebody entirely new? You were flooded with a mixture of curiosity and concern over what had changed your friend’s heart in a matter of weeks. You were also worried about this new character Mr. Park and his intentions- although Miss Kim had a very protective older brother to guide her in such matters. Mingyu would never have permitted her engagement to someone who was unworthy of her. If this Mr. Park had managed to obtain Mingyu's approval, he must certainly be a good man.

“What do you think Mr. Choi is like?” Julia asked you anxiously, as the carriage approached the Choi residence.

You looked down at your younger cousin and thought for a moment about her question. “Oh- erm… I am afraid I haven't had the pleasure of his acquaintance, Julia. I am told the Chois do not spend much time in London since they are mainly in the shipping trade in Portsmouth. But I have heard Mr. Choi described as an intelligent and capable gentleman.”

“Do you think he will like me?”

You smiled at her reassuringly. “Of course, Julia; you are quite the pretty picture. Only be a little careful with your manners and I am sure Mr. Choi will be blinded by your charms.”

Julia blushed, pleased, and turned to look out of the window with a little smile on her face. Your cousin was the perfect picture of youth and innocence- just the sort of thing men liked. It was difficult to imagine that Mr. Choi Seungcheol (whatever his personality and preferences) could not be persuaded to fall in love with her.

The carriage rolled to a halt outside the Choi manor.

Your family was greeted at the entrance of a sizeable mansion by the elderly Mrs. Choi. She was, as per your information, the widowed mother of Mr. Choi Seungcheol and Mr. Choi Vernon. She was a tall, statutely lady with greying hair and a naturally graceful manner that you couldn't help but admire.

“Lady Beaumont, what a pleasure to make your acquaintance at long last,” Mrs. Choi welcomed your aunt with great warmth. She then turned to smile at you and Julia. “And these must be your lovely daughters.”

“My daughter, Julia- and this is my niece,” your aunt replied quickly. “It is wonderful to meet you as well, Mrs. Choi. We were most gratified by your invitation to dinner.”

“My sons and I have been wanting to make your formal acquaintance for so long, but it was not possible since we are very rarely in London. My eldest son is quite busy in the shipping business in Portsmouth, as I have told you before. But now that we are here, I simply could not allow the opportunity to pass.”

Your aunt smiled brightly as your family was guided into the manor’s foyer. The Chois had a lovely manor, but it was not quite as splendid as the Beaumont house.

“It is a pity indeed that Mr. Choi Seungcheol cannot find time with his shipping business to attend the social season in London,” your aunt said, with a sly undertone, “for surely it cannot be easy to find a wife of good breeding in Portsmouth!”

You tried not to cringe. Did your aunt have to be quite so obvious about her intentions and talk of marriage even before sitting down? But Lady Beaumont would feel no shame, and surprisingly, Mrs. Choi took the comment in good humour.

“I agree- I have been encouraging Seungcheol to spend more time among the ton, and it is time he thought about marriage and settling down. But men will rarely allow themselves to be rushed into such things,” Mrs. Choi added as she led you all into the large dining parlour. Two gentlemen were seated at the table and they both rose quickly and quietly to greet your family.

“Lady Beaumont, please allow me to introduce my sons- the elder, Seungcheol and the younger, Vernon.”

You had to drop into a polite curtsy and keep your eyes low as Lady Beaumont introduced you to the Choi brothers. When they invited you all to sit at the table, you were able to get a good look at the two brothers who sat across from you at the dining table.

Mr. Choi Seungcheol was a tall, broad-shouldered man. He had dark hair, dark eyes, and was as classically handsome as one could possibly expect from a man in his thirties. Yet there was something mysterious about him. He had a strong aura- one that radiated a sense of charismatic authority.

“Do you spend much time in London, Miss Julia?” Seungcheol asked conversationally once the initial introductions were completed, and everyone had taken their seats at the table.

You glanced at Julia. Your cousin was staring at Seungcheol like a deer caught in the headlights and her mouth opened and closed wordlessly. You quickly picked up on her distress and jumped in to save the conversation.

“My cousin Julia has not yet had the advantage of a full social season in London- she has only just made her debut,” you replied quickly.

Seungcheol’s dark eyes turned to you.

“I see. And yourself, Miss Beaumont?”

You blinked- Mr. Choi certainly had excellent manners to enquire after you and not focus on his potential bride. “I have spent plenty of time in London, Mr. Choi. I was educated at a private seminary here, and have attended many social seasons.”

Mr. Choi nodded. “And do you like London very much?”

“London has many things to recommend it, and I have been fortunate to make some good friends here. Is my understanding correct, Mr. Choi, have you not had the liberty to spend much time here?” you enquired politely.

“I am afraid business keeps me mostly in Portsmouth during the social season,” Seungcheol replied simply. “My brother Vernon is in London often for his studies- although I doubt you would have found him at social events organised by the ton.”

You finally had an opportunity to turn and look at the younger Choi brother. Vernon was seated to your left, and although there was a slight resemblance, he looked quite different from Seungcheol. Vernon’s hair was a lighter brown and his eyes were much softer and kinder. He didn't have the same force of personality as his brother- indeed, you had almost forgotten that he was there. Vernon radiated a sense of calm and quiet self-assuredness that you found quite pleasing.

“May I ask what you are studying, Mr. Vernon?” you enquired politely.

Vernon nodded, his brown eyes meeting your gaze easily. “Of course, Miss Beaumont. I am currently pursuing the study of law at Oxford.”

“Oh! It must be very difficult,” you commented. “I imagine the study of a serious profession like that requires much hard work and intelligence.”

Vernon only gave you a humble smile in return.

“Oh-yes, Vernon is very intelligent,” his mother chimed in. Mrs. Choi seemed to enjoy talking about her sons. “We are indeed very proud of Vernon and hope that he will become a very successful barrister- but he has many years of study left for that.”

You nodded. “I wish you the very best for your studies, Mr. Choi.”

“Thank you,” he replied pleasantly.

Lady Beaumont spoke up- she had enough of you dominating the conversation and was now determined to turn it towards her daughter Julia- poor Julia, who still looked terrified and had barely touched her dinner.

“Julia has been studying music lately,” Lady Beaumont interrupted in a rather obvious attempt at a segue. “She has become quite the accomplished pianist for her age.”

Mrs. Choi smiled. “Is that so? We have a small pianoforte in the drawing room. You must play a little for us after dinner, Miss Julia. My sons and I are all quite fond of some good music.”

Julia swallowed.

“Say yes,” you mumbled to your cousin, reaching under the table to squeeze her hand.

“Y-yes,” Julia squeaked out. “I-I shall be delighted to…”

The dinner went on pleasantly enough. Other than a few pointed remarks from your aunt about how Mr. Choi would surely not find a bride in Portsmouth (which, to Seungcheol’s credit, he handled quite graciously) and another incident in which Julia dropped her glass from nerves (Vernon was kind enough to immediately pick it up for her and gesture for a servant to tidy up the mess) the dinner passed among pleasant small talk about London, the shipping business in Portsmouth, and a little light gossip about the ton.

The group retired to the drawing room after dinner and Julia was persuaded to sit down at the pianoforte to play some music for the Chois. You volunteered to stand next to your cousin on the pretext of turning the pages of her music, and leaned down to whisper to her.

“Are you all right?” you whispered to Julia as she played. “You have been very quiet and anxious.”

Julia blinked up at you. Her fingers tripped momentarily and she hit the wrong key but she recovered quickly. “Oh cousin, isn't he quite scary? I find him rather intimidating!”

You blinked down at her. “Mr. Choi Seungcheol? He seems very well-spoken. I found him quite mature and reasonable.”

“But the way he glares…”

“He has a somewhat serious appearance,” you admitted. “But he is the head of his family and from what I have heard, has expanded his shipping business quite single-handedly. Men who carry a lot of responsibility are sometimes a little solemn in their manners, you know, but it is not so bad.”

“I hope you are right,” Julia muttered. “But I am quite scared to talk to him. You must not ever let me be alone with him.”

“You will always be chaperoned,” you promised her.

“His brother Mr. Vernon seems very nice. He was kind enough to help me when I dropped the glass. Alas, he is a law student and I am sure mother would never approve.”

“She certainly wouldn't,” you muttered. “Mr. Choi Vernon is a second son and he will have to marry a woman that comes with either a handsome dowry or an inheritance- so I would not put any hopes there, dear Julia.”

Julia sighed. “Yes, all right. I did not find him particularly charming either, only that he seemed less scary than his brother.”

“You will be fine,” you promised her. “Only try not to worry and be true to yourself. Do you need me to continue turning pages?”

“No, you may sit down.”

You left your cousin to handle the piano and joined your aunt and Mrs. Choi in their conversation. Lady Beaumont looked quite elated, and you were almost afraid to take your seat and find out had excited your aunt quite so much.

“Oh my dear niece; but, you must hear this! Mrs. Choi has been very gracious to invite you, me and Julia to spend the autumn at their estate in Portsmouth!” Lady Beaumont cried. Her eyes were bright with delight. “Is that not incredibly generous of her?”

Your stomach clenched. “Oh- yes, Mrs. Choi, that is very generous and kind.”

Mrs. Choi smiled. “Not at all! I shall be very glad of the company. Portsmouth is certainly nothing compared to London, but it is a lively enough place to spend the off-season,” Mrs. Choi replied graciously.

Lady Beaumont beamed. “Indeed, and we shall be very happy to accept-”

“Aunt,” you interrupted her quickly. The letter from your close friend Miss Kim was still tucked inside the folds of your dress. “I am sure it will be a wonderful visit for you and Julia, but you may have to excuse me for I have other engagements in London.”

Your aunt turned to you sharply. “What nonsense! What engagements can you possibly have?”

“My dear friend Miss Kim is to be married-”

“And? What do you have to do with her marriage?” your Aunt demanded.

“She is my dearest friend-”

Mrs. Choi interrupted the scolding that you were about to receive from Lady Beaumont with a kind and patient smile. “Forgive me, Miss Beaumont, I was not aware that you were closely acquainted with the Kim family.”

“Miss Kim and I attended school together,” you replied with a grateful smile to the older woman. “Her family was kind enough to host me at their London home during the social seasons and to sponsor my debut among the ton after my parents passed. I have attended the last few social seasons as Miss Kim’s companion and I am greatly indebted to her family for their kindness to me.”

There was a hint of sympathy in the look Mrs. Choi gave you. Perhaps she had just been reminded of the fact that you were an orphan. She also gave a surprised look to Lady Beaumont.

“Indeed! I was not aware that Miss Beaumont had to rely on the Kims to debut in society and attend the social season in London,” Mrs. Choi replied.

Lady Beaumont looked flustered at the implication that she had not done enough for you as a guardian. “Well yes, naturally- Julia was still a young child and I could not leave her behind to chaperone my niece, so we permitted her to debut while under the temporary guardianship of the Kims. Not that it helped her any, she still never managed to secure a husband.”

Mrs. Choi’s eyes widened. “Surely Miss Beaumont can still-”

“Nonsense, she is quite the spinster now and I see no further use in her staying in London,” Lady Beaumont replied while glaring at you. “London is hardly going to produce any new husbands for you at this point. You had better come with us to Portsmouth.”

You clenched your fists. “Aunt-”

Mrs. Choi interrupted softly. “I would not wish for you to break any engagements you may have with the Kims, Miss Beaumont. But if you are able to join us, you will be most warmly welcomed in Portsmouth.”

You felt a sudden wave of gratitude and respect for Mrs. Choi, and you nodded at her. “Thank you very much, madam.”

“The song Julia is playing is most delightful. Your daughter is a very accomplished pianist, Lady Beaumont!” Mrs. Choi said.

Your aunt smiled, a little placated. “Yes…”

—-----------------------------------------------------

You awoke early- earlier than your aunt or Julia- and dressed quickly for breakfast with Miss Kim to demand answers about your dear friend's sudden engagement. It would have alerted Lady Beaumont if you had called for the carriage, so you decided to walk instead. The weather was pleasant enough, and the Kims’ home was not too far away.

You were just strolling past a shop window and admiring a pretty pair of shoes (that you certainly couldn't afford yourself, but perhaps you could persuade your Aunt that they would look nice on Julia), when you found yourself face-to-face with a tall gentleman.

“Oh!” you cried, quickly taking a few steps back to avoid bumping into the man.

“My apologies,” he said, looking down at you. The voice was familiar, as was the face that looked up at you. “Are you all-”

“Mr. Jeon!” you recognised him.

He paused and his dark eyes scanned your face quickly. Mr. Jeon Wonwoo was quite unmistakable, even from a distance. He had piercing dark eyes and was always impeccably dressed in dark coats that hinted at the musculature underneath. It was difficult to decide whether Mr. Jeon was handsome or terrifying- perhaps it was a mixture of both, really.

“Miss Beaumont,” Mr. Jeon greeted you in his usual slow, deep voice. There was no smile on his face. “I am surprised to see you here. I was not aware that you were in London.”

You cleared your throat and nodded politely. “Ah- yes, I arrived only yesterday evening.”

“Are you staying with the Kims’, as always?”

You were surprised that he could mention the Kims so casually after what you had learned about Miss Kim’s engagement. You tried to gauge his expression- but Mr. Jeon Wonwoo’s expression was akin to a brick wall.

“No, I am staying at the Beaumont manor, as I have come with my aunt and cousin,” you replied patiently. Could it be possible that Mr. Jeon had not even heard the news of the engagement himself? You decided to test the waters. “But I am on my way to the Kims’ for breakfast now. Perhaps you would care to join me?”

The corner of Wonwoo’s lip twitched- ah. He did know of the engagement, he was only putting on a careless front. You felt almost triumphant in managing to extract some emotion from this famously mysterious man.

“I am afraid I am otherwise engaged this morning,” Mr. Jeon replied stiffly, “but thank you for the invitation.”

“Of course.”

“Good day, Miss Beaumont.”

“Good day, Mr. Jeon.”

He walked away and you paused in the street for a moment to glance after his disappearing figure. You did not know Mr. Jeon very well- naturally, your acquaintance with him was only as the gentleman that was courting your friend. Yet you couldn't help but find Mr. Jeon almost amusing. The man regularly went to a great amount of care and effort to hide his emotions, and it seemed almost a shame.

You continued on to the Kims’ manor. The butler greeted you at the entrance, clearly expecting your arrival. You were guided into the breakfast parlour, where you were promptly attacked by Miss Kim.

“My friend!”

Miss Kim had engulfed you in a warm hug before you even had an opportunity to look around the room. You stumbled backwards and laughed, delighted to see her after many weeks apart.

“Miss Kim,” you replied, returning her friendly embrace. “I am very delighted to see you but indeed, you must allow me to breathe.”

She released you and beamed. “I am so happy to see you! Did you get my letter?”

“I did indeed, I was quite shocked to hear-”

You were interrupted by the voice of Mr. Kim Mingyu, who was seated at the dining table a short distance away and flipping through the morning paper. He was dressed in a very fashionable blue coat and looked up at you with twinkling eyes and his usual boyish, charming smile.

“Sister, surely you can allow Miss Beaumont to sit down and have a bit of breakfast before you begin haranguing her. Good morning, Miss Beaumont,” he added with a smile in your direction.

You smiled back at him, as Miss Kim took your arm and led you to the breakfast table.

“Good morning, Mingyu. I hope you are doing well?” you asked.

“I expect I will be a great deal better now that you are here. My sister has been driving us all quite mad since some time now, and we shall be more than happy to hand her over to your generous care,” he replied cheekily.

You laughed. “I shall be glad to take her from you, Mingyu.”

“And I insist that you do not leave again for such a long period, for she has become quite unbearable in your absence. My mother and I insist you share responsibility for the monster you have helped create.”

You laughed. You knew Mr. Kim Mingyu all too well- from his rather awkward and gangly teenage years until he became the present handsome and charming bachelor. You would not pretend that you had not had your fair share of attraction towards Mingyu in the past- but you had long matured out of those childish attractions and had instead come to respect his good character and regard him as a valuable friend.

“I am here now, Mr. Kim, so you may return to your paper,” you told him with a smile.

Mr. Kim nodded. “Much obliged.”

Miss Kim ushered you to sit down and generously piled your plate full of food from the breakfast table as she spoke in a rapid, eager tone.

“You must meet Mr. Park at once, you will adore him. He is such a wonderful and handsome gentleman and he is so charming, he says the loveliest things and I am quite smitten with him. I know you do not believe in silly things such as love at first sight and perhaps it was not quite that, but I must tell you that I was very sure soon after meeting him that this was the man for me.”

“Slow down,” you told her with a laugh. “Who is this Mr. Park? What do we know of him?”

“He has a large estate in Derbyshire that he has only just inherited from his late uncle. He enjoys horse riding, and hunting, and is excellent at cards-” Miss Kim went on eagerly.

You nodded. “Yes, but what do we-”

“Let me pour you some tea- oh no, the pot is empty. Marie! Marie! Can you bring us some more tea, please- oh, where has this maid got to…”

You watched in surprise as your overly excited friend rushed out of the room to procure more tea. She was certainly very enthusiastic- far more enthusiastic than she had ever been when she was courting Mr. Jeon. You turned to Mingyu and gave him a meaningful look.

“Mingyu…”

He looked up from his paper. “Yes?”

“What do we really know of this man?” you asked pointedly.

Mingyu smiled softly and folded the newspaper closed. “You are thoughtful to be concerned, Miss Beaumont, but there is no need. I have had Mr. Park thoroughly investigated. He is who he claims to be. I have watched them and as strange as it is, he really does seem to be quite the perfect match for my sister. He is able to match her high energy and passionate feelings in a way I have not seen any other gentleman achieve.”

You winced. “I suppose you mean Mr. Jeon.”

Mingyu sighed. “Yes, that courtship is quite at its natural end. Thank goodness they never got quite so far as for him to propose.”

“Is Mr. Jeon all right?”

“He certainly wouldn't tell me if he wasn't,” Mingyu replied with a sigh. “I cannot pretend to know whether or not the man is heartbroken, but I do believe that it was for the best. I am afraid Wonwoo was not a very good fit for my sister. Time will heal his wounds eventually.”

You nodded. There was some wisdom in Mingyu’s words. “Yes- and if you say Mr. Park really is such a perfect fit for Miss Kim-”

“He is.”

Miss Kim returned along with a maid carrying a pot of tea and sat down beside you with a huge smile. “Shall I invite Mr. Park for tea tomorrow? Will you meet him then?” she asked eagerly.

You bit your lip. “I would love to, but… I am afraid my aunt wants me to go to Portsmouth for the autumn with her and Julia.”

Miss Kim’s face fell. “No! Surely you cannot, you must stay in London!”

“I am afraid Julia needs me, my aunt is trying to encourage a match between her and Mr. Choi Seungcheol. Julia will be in need of a chaperone-”

Your friend scoffed. “A chaperone? It is quite outrageous for Lady Beaumont to demand your time and attention now, when she never even bothered to come to London for you when you were in need of a chaperone. Miss Beaumont! You cannot mean to tell me that you will miss my engagement ball and wedding to go to Portsmouth of all places?”

You sighed and sipped your tea. “Believe me, friend, I have no great interest in going to Portsmouth. But there is an obligation to my family… I will try to persuade my aunt to let me stay in London for a while longer.”

Miss Kim pressed your hand desperately. “You must. And if you are in Portsmouth at the time of my wedding then I shall hire someone to kidnap you and bring you to London.”

You laughed. “I shall come quite willingly.”

You leaned back in your seat and listened patiently to Miss Kim gush about her first meeting with Mr. Park- how she had met him at the Michaels’ grand ball at the start of season and he had captivated her attention from their first dance.

It appeared that you had a very difficult decision ahead of you. Should you follow your family to Portsmouth or stay in London? Either way, you would surely have a very interesting few months ahead of you.

--------------------------------------------------------

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #seungcheol x reader #mingyu x reader #wonwoo x reader #vernon x reader #seventeen angst #regency!au

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smoothlikealikeasnake · 8 months ago

Text

Strawberry Princess - Chapter One “Complete Opposites”

Pairing - BTS OT7 x reader, Hybrid BTS x Reader, Hybrid BTS x Hybrid Reader

Genre - Hybrid!AU , Hybrid BTS , Hybrid Reader, fluff, angst, smut, alternative reality , strangers to lovers , strangers to friends, friends to lovers

Warnings - Fluff, brief mention of blood and wound

Summary - When a certain hybrid starts to appear whenever Jungkook is at the gym, an immediate pull is felt between the two and their eventual friendship soon is spread to the rest of his pack.

Please read the brief on each of the hybrids lives in this fic and the world they live in to make sense of the things mentioned, I hope you enjoy! x

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Complete Opposites.

Not a single part of her looked like she belonged in the gym. Every part of him fit in. It was inevitable that he’d notice her, especially since she never used any of the equipment, she seemed to be there with her friend. Her friend seemed to fit right in, a bengal hybrid who just happened to have the same gym schedule as him, she was never alone though. Every session she had, she brought her princess looking friend with her, Y/n he’d heard her say.

Y/n would always be there, stay and watch her athletic friend or just play on her phone besides her but she followed her friend, Sana, round to every machine and stayed as close as possible. She stuck out, obviously, not just for her lingering but her appearance. Truthfully, her appearance is the first thing that drew Jungkook to her.

He’d noticed her the first time she came and quickly became fond of the shy glances she’d give him everyday, not that he intended on ever speaking to her. Despite his tough appearance, complex ink, piercings galore and muscle everywhere, he was an introvert, very reserved and his appearance challenged his shy personality. He imagined talking to her but he never had a reason and he needed a reason.

Never had a reason to speak to the pretty little cat hybrid who was always dressed in baby pink and white skirts and pretty tops that stick out in the dark gym. To the pretty little cat hybrid with strawberry blonde waves that cascaded down her shoulders and back like a gentle stream - the strawberry blonde waves that turned into little ringlets around her hairline. She also always had a new hairstyle, always put together but had a natural face, long brown eyelashes and plump lips, sometimes with a light gloss on, she was like a princess, not only in Jungkooks eyes but he was sure she appeared like that to everyone around with the stares she would get.

———————————————————————————

It might be clear now just how much Jungkook noticed her, how much she distracted him unintentionally. She joined Sana in the gym for about 3 weeks before he got any closer than glanced across the gym and it was only because Sana used a machine next to him today. The usually calm strawberry princess beside Sana seemed to grow fidgety as they neared him and settled next to him, the water bottle in Y/n’s hand shaking slightly and it was only then that Jungkook made an effort to look away, hoping to calm the nerves that had grown in Y/n’s body in a matter of seconds.

While he wasn’t sure what exactly caused her new behaviour, he didn’t want to worsen it so he tried to focus on the weights infront of him while Sana got started on the stepper next to him. Y/n stood in her short pink skirt and white sweater inbetween them, strawberry blonde ears on high alert and matching tail wrapping tightly around her waist as she tried to focus on not looking at Jungkook.

Kooks ears twitched at every movement she made, he knew she was shy but wasn’t expecting her to be nervous. Lip between his teeth, nibbling as he was deep in thought about how to calm the kitty next to him. He never stopped to wonder why he cared so much, he hadn’t done anything but he still cared about the pretty girl he’d been exchanging shy glances with for 3 weeks.

Not knowing what else to do, he got on with his reps until he was on his 5 minute break, wiped away the hair that had stuck to his head with his tattooed hand and took a gulp of water with his eyes closed before he opened them and in the mirror, staring back at him with widened eyes was Y/n who seemed to have been avoiding him since she had moved next to him. All he did was smile at her and Y/n’s slightly chubby cheeks grew pink and her shaking hands finally gave up on the water bottle in them, dropping it and as she did, Kooks quick reflexes moved to catch the bottle before it hit the floor.

Bottle in hand, he put a soft smile on his lips and held the fallen object out to the pretty kitty who’s eyes had got even wider if that’s possible. She just stared at it for a second before looking up as a gentle word left Kooks pierced lips

“Careful” - that singular word had Y/n feel like she might melt, her cheeks grew redder, she panicked and took the bottle from his hand, not without getting mesmerised by the art that covered his arm and then moving her gaze quickly to study him further, enjoying seeing him up close before she realised her manners.

“Thank you, I’ll be more careful” meekly left her plump lips quickly along with a sweet smile up to the intimidating bunny hybrid. They were both more than satisfied with the interaction and could feel happiness filling their chests before getting back to their own tasks again.

That was the first of many interactions, with slow progress every time, Y/n never grew less shy but Jungkook grew slightly more bold until one day Y/n realised how she wanted to grow closer to this intimidating bunny who always treated her so softly, it just so happened that Kook forgot a water bottle on one day and while he went and bought one so Y/n couldn’t do anything that day, it set in stone her next action.

———————————————————————————

The next day, Y/n came in with her wavy locks held back in a French braid, soft body clad in a short white skirt that showed off the plush of her thighs and a pink t-shirt with a heart in the centre, tucked into the skirt. She had put her hair in her favourite style and worn her favourite skirt to build the confidence for the small move she wanted to make today, it wouldn’t seem like a big deal too others but she was always extremely shy and struggled to start friendships. He was worth it and soon the rest of his pack would be too.

Sana always brung her own water bottle but today Y/n had bought one from the shop before she made her way to the gym with Sana today, not for herself, for Jungkook. She thought maybe if she gave it to him it could be the step to new interactions, he had forgotten his own yesterday and it was always Y/n’s love language to care for others. Sana had been teasing Y/n about her crush anyway and been pushing her to make a small move so this was Y/n taking her advice for once.

Standing next to Sana as she got ready to use the treadmill, Y/n spotted Jungkook across the gym who had noticed her too and gave her a smile that quickly turned into a curious and shocked expression as she smiled bashfully back and started walking around the machines to reach him. He didn’t want to assume she was coming over but the closer she got, the more his hopes rose until he saw her make eye contact as she got into a closer zone to him. Her heart was pounding as her hands shook but she took deep breaths telling herself it was okay and just wanting to retreat every step closer.

“Hi” was all Y/n could muster up as she stared up at Jungkook, mouth slightly agape as she stuttered over the words she wanted to say, hands reaching forward to present the bottle

“Well- Yesterday- I noticed yesterday you forgot your water bottle and I didn’t want you to go without because that’s rlly bad and I thought if I brought you one just in case then definitely you wouldn’t not have one-“ she quickly rambled refusing to look into his eyes before she felt him slightly graze her own hands when he took a step closer to hold the water bottle and only then did she look up at him to see him smiling happily down at her.

“Thank you, I guess it’s me that needs to be more careful now, huh?” He smiled brightly at her, his smile causing butterflies to flutter around her stomach, she just smiled and nodded slightly at him, loving the short interaction, fluffy tail unwrapping from her waist and moving quickly behind her in excitement at the success. For some reason she felt a overwhelming urge to jump into his arms at the feeling but held herself back and waved as she practically skipped back to Sana, the brightest smile you could imagine on her face.

This was the real start in their growing love, everyday then on Y/n would bring a water bottle to give to Jungkook and the conversations would grow more and more while everyday Kook would gush to his pack about her and they grew more and more curious.

———————————————————————————

In the Bangtan House

“Hyungs she is just so sweet, she’s cute and pretty and so nice, she makes my hour at the gym just amazing” - Kook gushed while he lay his head in Namjoons lap, the rest of the pack listening intently, for some reason they didn’t feel a single drop of jealousy, only curiosity, they hadn’t even seen a picture of her.

“You’ve got us so curious Kook, maybe one of us should meet her too?” Joon suggested as he ran his hands through Jungkooks hair

“ I want you all to meet her there’s just something about her I can’t describe it but she’s so shy, maybe we could wait until she’s more comfortable with me?” - Jungkook lay deep in thought, eager to have his hyungs meet the sweet princess who smelt like sweet strawberries and had the beauty of an angel just like his mates. The pack grew soft at the thoughtfulness their youngest mate portrayed and quickly agreed.

“Well when she’s ready how about one of us come to the gym with you Kook?” Seokjin suggested lovingly and the felines practically purred at the idea. Then it was agreed that when Y/n was more comfortable and knew more about the pack, one of them would come to meet her too.

———————————————————————————

At the gym, Jungkook and Y/n’s comfortable quickly grew, Kook started to see just how playful Y/n really could be and it was then that Kook suggested they met at a park one day, she quickly agreed and her shy demeanour came back slightly, they both had a feeling that they’d be much closer after this meet. The next member to meet her would get the opportunity very soon because she already knew a lot about his pack and would be even more comfortable after their meet.

So the day came where they would make their way to the park to get icecream and just talk for a few hours. Y/n dressed in her favourite dress with her long hair down in its natural waves making sure her tail was especially fluffy and soft. Kook wore black combat pants with a tighter shirt than normal, the all black matched the colour off his floppy ears and puff tail.

Kook surprised Y/n upon greeting her as he brought her into a warm hug with his strong arms around her little waist and she gasped at the forward contact before quickly putting her arms around his neck and melting into his chest, both reluctant to let go after a short while, Y/n’s tail had even subconsciously moved around Jungkooks own waist and when they pulled away she had to hold back a gasp at the slight brush of his hand against the soft fur as she moved her tail away, slightly embarrassed. He held back a chuckle at that and quickly got into a conversation with her.

A small while later they got icecream, Y/n got, would you guess it, strawberry where as Jungkook got vanilla as they didn’t have much selection and he wanted to play it safe, when they sat down Jungkook decided it was time to start being more playful with the feline. While he distracted her with the typical

“Look over there!” He stole a mini spoonful of her ice cream and as she turned around confused, a betrayed expression adorned on her face before she stole her own scoop, they playfully bickered the whole time until they finished and threw their icecream cups away.

There peaceful walk was interrupted when Y/n decided to properly get back Jungkook for what he started earlier that hour and played the exact same trick on him

“Oh my gosh look! Look over there!” Before her feline eyes narrowed slightly and she pounced, straight onto Jungkook back as he stumbled from the surprise and yelped before laughing uncontrollably, Y/n following suite completely forgetting she was currently on his back as his hands moved behind him to hold her up by her thighs even if she didn’t need it by the vice grip of her legs around his slim waist and her arms around his neck.

Y/n hadn’t even realised her claws were out when she was holding onto the curve between Jungkooks shoulders and neck and slightly digging them in. She hadn’t meant to grip tighter when he had stumbled from the blissful laughing and without either of them realising one of her sharp claws pierced into his skin, not that he had even noticed, roughhousing with the predators in his pack and his obsession with tattoos and piercings left him immune to the slight pain.

It was only when they calmed down slightly and Y/n slid off Jungkooks back to look at him that her expression completely dropped into one of regret and worry, panicking about the harm she’d inflicted

“I’m so sorry, Kook I didn’t mean too-“ as she rushed forward, breathing heavier, hovering her fingers above the wound and as he cut her off she did the same, just not how either expected it.

“Just a little pinch its okay I didn’t even noti-“ his words got caught in his throat as by some unaccounted instinct Y/n pulled him down so she could reach the wound trickling a small amount of blood and brought her mouth closer to him, Kook froze at the tongue that darted out to remove any blood and start the healing process of the wound, Y/n couldn’t even process what she was doing as something in her overpowered her usual mind and felt as though it was controlling her, she finally pulled back when the bleeding stopped and looked up at him before coming back to her senses. Both of their scents sweeter than usual.

Jungkook knew she would run at the realisation and so he grabbed onto her waist and instead thanked her, thanked her both minds, her feline mind and her usually conscious human mind.

“Thank you, it’s all better now” He knew thanking her would calm her and she wouldn’t feel so bad, she was only helping it was her instinct and showed her comfortablility with him, she didn’t mean to do something usually so intimate.

She slightly calmed before pulling away with a slight frown “I’m so sorry it was inappropriate and I promise I didn’t mean too-“

“Y/nie, it’s okay, stop being sorry” - Jungkook smiled brightly at the girl as her worries slightly eased before they both went on with their time in the park until Jungkook walked her home and had to say goodbye. What neither of them realised is that the wound was right by Jungkooks scent gland so while Y/n cared for the wound, she unintentionally scented him and that would be the centre of attention when he got home.

———————————————————————————

As Jungkook walked through the front door, one of his mates closest to him flew up at the sweet strawberries that flooded in with their youngest mate, Jimin rushed towards Jungkook at the addicting scent and buried his nose in the source, Kook stood confused until Jimin answered his unspoken question

“Y/n scented you?” - At this the rest of the pack flossed in until they could all smell the sweet scent mixed in with Jungkooks fresh linen scent. Jungkook was confused for a slight second before touching the wound on his neck and having a quick realisation hit him, face contorting to one of knowledge. The pack looked at him expectantly, all urging to bury their faces into the sweet scent on their mate, the happy scent.

“We were playing and Y/n accidentally got me with one of her claws and seemed like she couldn’t help it when she started to treat it… you know?” Kook bashfully explained each mate adorning different thoughts and questions

Yoongi stalked towards the bunny and pulled at the collar of Jungkooks shirt to get a better look and running a finger over the wound before grumbling a tired “She did do a good job at treating you” clearly just woken up from a nap but also intrigued, praising you, waking up fully at the scent that hit him when he pushed on Kooks scent gland.

It was then that the boys decided they would have to meet you sooner because this scent that covered Jungkook was making them all a bit swoon, Jimin, being the first to see Kook, decided he would come to the gym with his mate the next day, to meet this Y/n.

———————————————————————————

The next day, as planned, Jimin joined Jungkook in his trip to the gym and as planned, Y/n would arrive about 10 minutes after them, as beautiful as always and Jimin swore his jaw dropped to the floor at the sight of her, he was visibly in awe as she bounced over to Jungkook, waterbottle in hand and immediately wrapped her arms around his neck, initiating a tight hug where she tried to secretly inspect the pierced skin she tried to heal the day before.

Y/n was so happy to see Jungkook she hadn’t even noticed the devilishly beautiful blonde next to him, smirking at the two before smiling softly at her. Her heartbeat sped up and her meek behaviour made a speedy return before Jungkook placed a hand on her lower back

“Y/n this is Jimin, he’s joining me today” he smiled softly at her as Y/n stuttered out a hello like a deer in headlights before taking in his breathtaking features and the white ears and fluffy tail, remembering he is an arctic fox hybrid and immediately being mesmerised by him

“Hi Y/n, it’s so nice to finally meet you, Kookies told us all about you” Jimin tilted his head slightly with his wide smile and slight chuckle at her expression, she was confused because just like with Jungkook, she felt a pull to him which lead to the conclusion in her head that maybe she should be more open quicker, it worked out so well will with Jungkook.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Jungkook told me about you and your other mates too” Y/n let out shyly, looking up at the new figure as she fidgeted with her hands behind her back.

Their meeting was short but Y/n excused herself quickly to go somewhere and while Jimin grew a bit sad, scared he had drove her away, Y/n pushed away her fears and ran to the store outside the gym, buying another water because she realised, she had brought Jungkook one but Jimin might not have one and that’s not fair. So to start their friendship the same way hers and Kooks started, she came back into the gym, nervous again.

She approached the two again and this time stood infront of Jimin, offering the water bottle to him as she bashfully explained that “well I always bring Jungkook one and I didn’t know you were here so I wanted to bring you one too I hope that’s okay-“ her rambling was cut off by the bright smile of her acquaintance, who, being one of the touchiest members of the pack gently held her hand as he thanked her, causing her to grow red and sweetening her scent as she looked away And shyly smiled before quickly making her way back to Sana.

———————————————————————————

When the two returned to the Bangtan house, the pack all swooned at Y/n’s kind antics as she went out of her comfort zone for Jimin and they all quickly realised, there was definitely meant to be more between them all, it was fated, they had to meet her and soon.

Just a quick note, thank you for reading! This is my first fic and honestly hasn’t been proofread so if there’s grammar and spelling mistakes please excuse that, I hope you enjoy it sorry it’s a bit of a slow burn in this chapter but more members will be introduced quickly in the next chapter

Feel free to ask questions !

ཐི♡ཋྀ

#bts #bts x reader #hybrid bts #hybrid #hybrid reader #bts jimin #bts jungkook #bts jung hoseok #bts namjoon #bts seokjin #bts jhope #bts yoongi #bts taehyung #bts hybrid au #bts hybrid x reader #bts ff #bts fanfic

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heestruck · 2 months ago

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Come with me, little birdie. ; Sim Jaeyun [TEASER]

synopsis ; God was the only thing that mattered to you. I mean, that and pleasing your parents that have sheltered you from everything the outside world has to offer. So what happens when one day; you’re walking home and you run into one of the most notorious criminals in your small town.

And what happens when he takes a special interest in you?

pairing ; pastors daughter!reader x criminal jake

genre ; smut

warnings ; smut, mdni. manipulation. jake is actually a very bad guy. perhaps some yandere. corruption kink. religious themes. religious symbols mentioned. virgin reader. strangers that fuck. mentions of violence. mentions of crimes both minor and severe. kidnapping kinda? pet names. dominant jake. submissive reader. more warnings to come.

do not read if any of this makes you uncomfortable. minors do not interact.

wc ; to be determined

release date ; october 14th, 2024

teaser under the cut !

The cool evening air brushed against my skin as I carefully closed my Bible, tucking it into my bag with care. The last few women were filtering out of the church basement, their soft goodbyes and gentle smiles fading into the stillness of the night. I lingered for a moment, my fingers grazing over the worn leather cover, feeling that familiar sense of peace I always got after Bible study. My faith was my constant, my compass, the one thing that never wavered.

With a quiet sigh, I slung my bag over my shoulder and stepped onto the street. Normally, my walk home was routine—comforting in its familiarity—but tonight, the usual path was blocked off due to road construction. I stood at the corner for a second, looking at the alternate route, a walkway that lead to an alleyway that was dimly lit and stretching into the shadows. It wasn’t ideal, but I didn’t have much of a choice.

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil…” I whispered to myself, the verse steadying me as I stepped forward. God had brought me this far, and I trusted Him to keep me safe.

I tightened my grip on the strap of my bag and walked into the alley, the sound of my footsteps echoing off the brick walls. The shadows seemed to cling to the corners, shifting with every step I took, but I wasn’t afraid. I reached for the cross necklace around my neck, the cool metal grounding me, reminding me I wasn’t alone.

Still, a strange unease crept up my spine. The alley seemed longer than it should’ve been, the streetlights at the far end distant, almost unreachable. I quickened my pace, trying to shake the feeling that something—or someone—was watching.

I walked faster, my footsteps now the only sound in the narrowing alley, bouncing off the walls in uneven echoes. The dim lights overhead flickered, casting long, eerie shadows that seemed to twist and stretch with every step I took. I tightened my grip on my cross necklace, my thumb tracing the engraved lines as I whispered another prayer under my breath. The uneasy feeling in my chest grew, like a knot tightening slowly.

It’s fine, I told myself, repeating it like a mantra. God is with me. I’ll be home in just a few minutes. But no matter how hard I tried to calm myself, the darkness felt too heavy, too still. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled, and despite my best efforts, I couldn’t shake the creeping sensation that I wasn’t alone.

I glanced behind me. The alley stretched into the shadows, empty as far as I could see. But the feeling wouldn’t go away. My heartbeat quickened, thumping loudly in my ears as I turned back toward the distant streetlights and picked up the pace.

Suddenly, I heard it. Soft at first, almost imperceptible—a faint scuff of shoes against concrete, just behind me. My breath hitched in my throat as I froze mid-step, my heart pounding wildly now. I slowly turned around, scanning the alleyway.

Nothing.

But the silence felt different now. It was too quiet, suffocating. Every instinct in me screamed to run, but my legs refused to move, rooted to the spot by a fear I couldn’t quite explain.

And then, I heard a voice, smooth and dripping with a casual charm that sent a chill through me.

“Well, well, what’s a pretty girl like you doing all alone in a place like this?”

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

authors note ; eeee another one coming out. I hope you guys like it. don’t forget to comment for the tag list!

#enhypen smut #jake smut #enhypen #enhypen jake #jake enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen fanfic #jake sim #jake x reader #enha smut #enha x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen heeseung #enhypen sunghoon #jay enhypen #enhypen sunoo #enhypen jungwon #enhypen scenarios

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starlightkun · 10 days ago

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⏯ word count: 13.7k ⏯ genre: band au, punk band frontman!shotaro, venue manager!reader, shotaro is whipped, reader is emotionally unavailable, is it a slowish burn or is it angst?, whatever it is ur reading a starlightkun fic so there’s a happy ending :), ft. eunseok/sungchan/wonbin as shotaro’s bandmates welcome back boys & wayv as reader’s coworkers ⏯ warnings: some blood/violence (shotaro gets punched once), not necessarily a warning but since i do generally avoid describing the reader’s appearance in my fics, i wanted to give a heads up—reader works at a punk/alternative concert venue and is generally in/around that scene. reader is mentioned and/or implied to have some tattoos and piercings (other than earlobes) ⏯ extra info: set in the same universe as filler episodes, but u don’t need to read that in order to understand this one, filler eps!sungchan and sugarcoated!shotaro r just in the same band! also the title is from a 5sos song lol ⏯ author’s note: sooo after writing filler episodes and experiencing bbb/lucky shotaro, i couldn’t get punk band frontman shotaro out of my head… i fear the trajectory of my life has been altered ⏯ now playing… empty wallets – 5 seconds of summer | apathy is boring – bears in trees | dreaming girl – xdinary heroes

“You’re not stupid. I know you’re not.” He stood up, stepping closer to you. “You always stop yourself right before… I’m sure you think you’re not leading me on or whatever, but I know you know how stupidly head over heels I am for you, because I don’t try to hide it.”

Flipping through your keyring, you selected the right key by touch in order to unlock the rear entrance to the venue. Despite the sweltering summer heat outside, the basement was cool as always. You flipped the AC and lights on as you disabled the alarm that wasn’t actually connected to a security company, then descended the stairs. Venue:Hell, your home away from home. Actually, you were pretty sure you spent more time here than your apartment some weeks.

Your phone buzzed with a text as you crossed the threshold into the back office, and you opened it as you flopped into the creaky office chair.

[kun: attached image]

[kun: new schedule for the month. y/n, don’t forget that you’re covering the new weekly act starting today]

It was your manager, and you read over the list of events for this week with mild interest. The two of you had already discussed that you’d be taking over being point with Venue:Hell’s weekly spot. The venue had a recurring local act come in every week to perform, typically a smaller artist, to help them build a base among your regulars. These guys had recently opened for one of your previous weekly acts on a national tour and your manager liked them enough to ask them to fill in the weekly spot when the tour made a stop here. You’d had that particular night off, so this was going to be your first time meeting the band.

As you went through your usual opening checklist, other employees filtered in, starting on their tasks. The venue usually provided all the staff and equipment for the weekly act. They just needed to show up and perform.

You were with your sound guy Yangyang by his equipment when you heard your name being called from elsewhere in the building.

“Yeah?” You yelled back, walking out from behind the curtain to look around for whoever it was.

Ten, who worked the front, was approaching with four guys in tow, instrument cases in hand. Must be the new band.

“New weekly is here!” He called out.

You hopped down off the stage to meet them on the main floor. “You guys are early.”

The band looked at each other, obviously worried. One that had a guitar case on his back spoke up uncertainly, “Is that a problem? We weren’t sure—”

“No, it’s fine. I’m pretty sure it’s a first, though,” you snickered.

“You got them?” Ten asked you. “Kunhang said he needed help.”

“Go for it,” you nodded, dismissing your coworker from the group.

Looking back at the four guys that you were left with, you started your spiel. “So, I’m Y/N, assistant manager at Venue:Hell. If you ever have any questions, need anything, let me know. I’m sure Kun already explained how our weekly spot works, but you guys will perform here every Thursday at 10:00 and have a forty-five-minute slot. It’s not exactly primetime, but it’s consistent and we have a good pool of regulars. You’ll also have priority for inclusion on lineups for any special events we host. If your weekly slot ever needs to be moved or canceled, we’ll give you as much of a heads-up as we can, but sometimes it will be very last-minute. If you ever need to miss a week, we ask the same from you, tell us as soon as possible. Make sense?”

You got four hasty nods in return.

“Great, let me show you to your green room.” Just as you were about to turn around and head off, you realized something. “Ah shit, I completely forgot to ask your name. Sorry.”

The guitarist that had spoken earlier offered you a big smile. His ears were adorned with metal, and you spotted some jewelry glinting from his nose, lip, and eyebrow too. His hair sort of reminded you of a dalmatian, a light blonde base with spots of dark black streaking through it. Overall, fit right in with the scene, except for his smile, which seemed to be made of sunshine and rainbows or something cheesy like that. You swore you needed sunglasses just looking at him.

“I’m Osaki Shotaro, uh, guitar, and I sing!” He informed you cheerily. “It’s really nice to meet you.”

“Jung Sungchan, drums,” the tallest one nodded. “And our band is called Roses for Eyes, by the way. Since Taro here forget to mention that.”

He slapped his friend on the shoulder, making Shotaro wince.

“Right…” Shotaro rubbed his neck. “You-You can also call me Taro, too, by the way. Everyone does. Like boba tea!”

“Cool.” You nodded, looking at the other two expectantly.

“Eunseok, I’m the bassist,” another introduced himself. “Sing a bit, I guess.”

The last one, with dark black hair save for a single hot pink streak in his bangs, gave a small wave. “Park Wonbin. Guitar and I sing too.”

“I like the pink,” you commented, then pivoted on your heel. “Okay, I’ll show you your green room.”

“So what do you think?” Yangyang asked you as he fiddled with his equipment, and you helped him go over his checklists.

“I think it sounds fine,” you replied, checking that step off.

“I meant about the new weekly.”

“Oh, they seem fine,” you shrugged. “You worked the night they were here last time, right? What did you think?”

“Their sound’s good.”

“And Kun obviously liked them.”

“Do you think they’ll be a pain to work with?”

“Hm?” You thought on your sparse interactions with the members of Roses for Eyes, the introductions, and then Shotaro had asked you where the restroom was. “No, I think they’ll be fine. I don’t know, Yang, it hasn’t even been their first day. There’s time yet for them to turn into assholes.”

Footsteps approaching made you glance over your shoulder. It was the drummer… Sungchan, you were pretty sure. He seemed to be heading straight for you, and you looked at him with your eyebrows raised.

“Do you need something?” You asked him expectantly, listening to Yangyang call out that the next step was clear.

“Not me, but yes,” he answered sheepishly.

You held his eye contact, arching an eyebrow.

“It’s Taro,” the drummer continued. “He’s good, I just wanted to give you a heads-up that he kind of uhm, loses things a lot? Especially his in-ears.”

“Has he lost them already?” You checked your watch. “Your soundcheck is in five minutes.”

“Yeah…”

You sighed and held the clipboard out towards Yangyang, “You got this?”

He saluted you, “Yes, ma’am.”

You turned back to Sungchan, “Where’s the last place he saw them?”

“I told Sungchan not to tell you, I’m sorry,” Shotaro apologized as the two of you retraced his steps starting from the van they had arrived in.

“I told you guys—If you need anything, let me know,” you grunted, climbing over a spare amp in the back to look under the seats.

“This is just so embarrassing,” he complained, rifling through the glovebox.

“Hey, it’s your first performance as our new weekly, it’d be weirder if it went over perfectly.”

“I meant you having to search through our nasty van with me for them. Just being a few minutes late to soundcheck, I could deal.”

“It’s fine, Shotaro, I’ve done worse, promise.”

His big eyes peered at you inquisitively over the headrests of the front seats. “Like what?”

“I think we’ve scoured every inch of the inside of this thing,” you declared, wiping sweat off your brow with the hem of your shirt. “Have you checked under it?”

Shotaro was still staring at you.

“I’ll look.” You sighed and hopped out of the back of the van.

“No, I’ve got it!” He suddenly scrambled into action, dropping to his hands and knees on the gravel next to the vehicle to scour the ground underneath it.

You, meanwhile, kept your eyes peeled for the immediate vicinity of the parking lot around it. Finally, off in the direction towards the building next door, something caught your eye. You wandered over, picking up a square, black case. Flipping it open, sure enough, there was a pair of in-ears, one bright green and the other bright purple.

Walking back over to the van, you stopped next to the guitarist, who was still looking under it. “Shotaro.”

“Huh?” Thunk. “Fuck!”

“Watch your head,” you said dryly as he carefully extricated himself from under the van this time. You shook the case at him. “These yours?”

He lit up as soon as he saw the equipment. “Yes! Oh my god! Where were they?”

“Over by the neighbors.” You jerked a thumb at the building.

“Ohhh, right! There was a cat over there that I took a picture of when we got here. Do you want to see it?” He was already digging around in his pocket for his phone.

“No. Focus.”

“Right.” He reached for the case, but you snatched them out of his grasp before he could touch it.

“I don’t think so.”

Shotaro’s face turned endearingly confused. “What?”

“We’re not doing this again,” you declared. “These are mine now. When they are not inside of your ears, they’re mine. You will come get them from me before every performance and return them to me as soon as you get off the stage. If you do not need to take them somewhere else before next week, they’ll stay here with me the whole time. Deal?”

“So, Sungchan mentioned this isn’t the first time I’ve lost them?”

“Uh-huh.”

He nodded enthusiastically. “Deal!”

Roses for Eyes wasn’t half bad, from the bits and pieces that you heard while you were running around doing other stuff. You could easily understand why your manager chose them for the weekly spot. Your regulars seemed to like them, too. They had an infectious energy, kept the crowd engaged, and had good chemistry with each other on stage. After the debacle with Shotaro’s in-ears, the rest of the performance went over relatively smoothly, then you just had an open bar and dance night until midnight to deal with. Easy.

It was Yangyang’s turn to have his playlist hooked up, so you were planning on mingling to get some feedback from your regulars on the new weekly.

“Y/N!” A voice yelled out your name from elsewhere backstage, and you turned around.

It was Shotaro running at you, his guitar slung over his back. You held out your hands both in a gesture for him to slow down, and also to protect yourself in case he crashed into you. He managed to skid to a stop just in time, breathless and with a wild smile.

He held his hand out towards you, something crumpled up in his fist. “Here!”

You opened up your palm, letting him drop two familiar neon objects into it. His in-ears. “Ah, right. Thank you for remembering.”

Taking out the case that you still had in your pocket, you tucked them away, snapping it shut again. “You’re sure you won’t need these again before next week?”

“No, we don’t have anything planned.”

“Well, if anything comes up, I’m here most days. I’ll keep them in the office, so if I’m not here, you can get them from Kun or someone else with a key.”

“So what uh, what did you think?” His teeth played with his lip ring nervously.

“About what?” You checked the time on your phone.

“You know, our set?”

“God, I told Yang during soundcheck that Wonbin’s mic should’ve been turned up, but he didn’t listen to me, so we could barely hear him. But we’ll fix that next week. Is the guy always so quiet?”

“Yeah, yeah, he is.” Shotaro was still looking at you expectantly.

“Did you need something else, Shotaro?” You asked. “I was going to go talk to some people.”

“No, uhm, sorry for keeping you.”

“It’s fine.” You patted his shoulder. “And hey, we’re open until midnight tonight. You guys are welcome to stay and hang out. Staff gets half off at the bar, that includes you.”

He nodded and flashed you another smile. “Cool, thanks, Y/N.”

The next week, you were in the back office when there was a knock on the slightly ajar door, and a familiar head poked in.

“Hi.” Shotaro beamed at you. “Kunhang said you were in here.”

“Hi, Shotaro.” You minimized the window that had been up on your screen as he wandered around to your side.

“What are you doing?”

“Payroll. Which you can’t see,” you informed him, opening the top right drawer of the desk.

“Oh. Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” You handed him his in-ear case that you had just retrieved. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” He accepted the case, but didn’t leave the office.

“Do you guys need something else?”

“No, uhm, finish your work,” he started towards the door. “But I uhm, is that new? The septum piercing?”

You touched the ring absentmindedly. You’d gotten it done over the weekend, you’d forgotten that it was new by now. “Yeah, it is.”

“I like it. Looks good on you.”

Before you could even say thanks, he had darted from the office.

Done with the payroll, you went out to the main floor, taking down the stools from the few high-tops scattered around the perimeter and setting them up at the tables. Roses for Eyes were just starting their soundcheck, providing background music of the sounds of them tuning their instruments.

“Hey, Y/N,” Eunseok’s voice came over the speakers.

“Yeah?” You called back over your shoulder as you continued setting up.

“So, did you like our set last week? Anything we can do better?”

You swore you heard snickers, but when you turned around, they were all standing at attention. “Everyone generally liked your sound. Good music to dance to. But you need some more variety in your setlist. Have a vibe-shift or two. Show people you can do more. If you can.”

Sungchan laughed as he spun a stick around with his fingers. “Is that a challenge or what?”

You shrugged. “It’s only a challenge if it’s hard.”

They all erupted into incredulous laughter, and you couldn’t help but grin too, glad that they didn’t seem put-off by your comment. You were genuinely trying to give them advice, not put them down. The band returned to their soundcheck, and you went back to your own tasks. You figured they were done when you heard a long stretch of silence as you were doing inventory of your in-house merch behind the merch counter.

“Hi.” It was Shotaro again, peeking at you from over the counter as you squatted down to count the t-shirts stacked up down there.

“Hi, Shotaro.” You held up your hand expectantly, and he deposited his in-ear case onto it. You tucked it into your jacket pocket. “Thank you.”

“Need any help?”

“This isn’t your job,” you pointed out, tapping a few buttons on the tablet balanced on your knees.

“You’re really good at that.”

“Counting shirts?” You snorted. “I’d be a lot better if I wasn’t talking while I did it.”

He chuckled. “I meant not answering the question you’re asked.”

You looked up from the shirts at him. “Hmph.”

“Did you hate our set that much?”

“Why does it matter what I thought?” You asked him frankly.

“You’re still doing it.”

You took a closer look at what he was wearing today, a neon pink longsleeve under his black t-shirt. “Your shirt matches Wonbin’s hair. Cute.”

He looked down at his sleeves, pulling them over his hands. “Ah, yeah, I guess. Do you like it? I—Hey, wait a minute!”

You laughed to yourself as you stood back up. “If you really want me to answer your question… No, I don’t need any help. I’m done now. Thanks, though.”

After Roses for Eyes’ set, Shotaro didn’t even have to find you, you were waiting just off-stage. He couldn’t hide his surprise, eyes going wide. “Oh, Y/N! Hey!”

“Hi.” You held out your hand expectantly, the case already open atop it.

He stuffed the in-ears back into it. “Thanks.”

“Thank you.” You snapped it shut and pocketed it. “And good set. I’m glad I got to actually see it this time.”

His face lit up. “Wait you—Is that why—? Thanks! You really—?”

“Hey, Taro, come on, we got places to be,” Sungchan grabbed his arm. “You got your in-ears?”

You arched an eyebrow, taking the case back out from your pocket. “You need these?”

Sungchan shook his head as Shotaro took it back from you. “Thanks…”

“Don’t lose them before next week,” you warned.

“I won’t.” He beamed.

The next day, you were at the venue early putting up some new decorations when you swore you heard the back door open.

“Ten?” You yelled out. “That you?”

“No!” An entirely different voice called back, right as the owner had descended the stairs into your view, propping his silver sunglasses up on his dalmatian hair.

“Shotaro.” You tilted your head at him curiously. “Pretty sure I haven’t been here that long. It’s not Thursday yet.”

“Not quite.” He grinned as he set a familiar case on the counter that you were currently standing on to reach the ceiling. “I didn’t lose them.”

“I’m very proud of you.” You pointed in the direction of the back. “Office is unlocked, you can put them on the desk before you head out.”

“What are you doing?”

“Decorating. We’re doing a Y’allternative Night tonight.” You held up the paper cowboy boots that you were prepared to hang up. “It’s all deejayed, no live music or we would’ve offered you guys a slot, sorry.”

“Can I help?”

“You really want to help me decorate?”

“Yeah.”

You sighed, looking down at the stack of decorations on the counter, and the others haphazardly strewn on the stage. “Ten was supposed to help but he hasn’t shown…”

“Is that a yes?” He asked hopefully.

“I can’t pay you for this,” you warned.

“That’s fine!”

“Put your in-ears away first.”

“On it!” He grabbed them off the counter and dashed away.

“So how long have you been working here?” Shotaro asked you as the two of you worked to decorate the venue.

“Few years.” You handed him the next cutout. “Mm, to the right. Yeah, good, higher. There.”

Shotaro was easy to work with, attentive, loved even the smallest bit of praise, and followed directions incredibly well. Kinda like training a dog, you figured. Though, you’d never had a dog.

“How long have you been with your band?” You asked.

“Oh, I’ve known Sungchan since I was like, seven,” he explained, scooting with you along the counter. “I used to be taller than him, you know.”

You snorted at that, genuinely trying to picture little Sungchan and Shotaro, the latter just a smidge taller.

Shotaro was grinning as he continued, “We spent like every day after school in middle school playing Rock Band. Begged our parents for real instruments for Christmas in high school. Then Sungchan met Eunseok in gym class, and I met Wonbin in art. So I guess it’s been… almost ten years? At least since we took over Eunseok’s garage after school for our first band practice.”

“That’s cool,” you replied genuinely, handing him the last decoration. “I like hearing that sort of stuff from the acts that come through here. Everyone’s got such unique stories.”

“Uhm—” He cleared his throat. “Is this good? For the-the thing?”

You looked at where he was holding the paper lasso. “Ehh… Turn it to the left a little? …Perfect, tape it.”

Shotaro hopped down from the counter and the two of you stepped back to admire your handiwork.

“Not bad.” You held your hand up for a high-five, which he eagerly accepted. “Thanks, Shotaro.”

The back door was thrown open then, Ten yelling into the venue, “I’m here!”

“Finally,” you scoffed.

“Sorry, sorry, I had to take Louis to the doctor,” your coworker rambled, obviously flustered as he rushed in. “Stupid asshole ate my charging cable.”

“His cat,” you informed Shotaro quietly, taking in the guitarist’s concerned look. Turning back to Ten, you asked, “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, one super expensive vet trip later, he’s fine, of course.” Ten seemed to notice Shotaro then. “Oh, hey, Taro. Are you guys performing tonight?”

“He was just dropping off some equipment and was nice enough to help me with the decorations,” you explained. “Speaking of—You remembered to pick them up on your way in, right?”

He pointed over his shoulder to the back entrance. “Yes, they’re in my car, will you help me with them?”

“I think we’ve got it from here, Shotaro, thanks again—”

“Uhm, do you remember how long it took last time?” Ten interrupted you pointedly.

You sighed ruefully, recalling very well. Clasping your hands together in front of you, you turned to the frontman, “If you’re not busy, would you mind helping us fill hundreds of balloons and also assemble a few cardboard cutouts? Please?”

Only one person could operate the balloon inflating machine at a time. One person would fill them with helium, then hand them off to another to tie them and release them to float up to the ceiling. Getting them back down would be hell. The third person was wrangling the custom-ordered cardboard cutouts out of the packaging and assembling them. That person was of course you. You had lost the rock-paper-scissors, and never had it in you to just pull rank when it came to this kind of stuff.

“What the hell?” You muttered, trying to cut the package open for the third time, barely crinkling the tape instead. Yanking on it, you cursed, “I swear this fucking tape is made of fucking Kevlar! What the fuck?!”

“Let me try?” Shotaro offered, abandoning his post tying balloons to join you. You huffed and let him gently take the box cutter from your hand, moving over to grant him access to the end of the box that you were struggling with.

“It’s probably that box cutter! Blade’s too dull!” Ten called out as he continued filling and tying balloons. “I think it’s older than Kun!”

Shotaro had just tried to slice upwards along the tape, but as soon as the box cutter hit resistance, it stopped, and his hand recoiled with the force. His fingers flew back down along the blade, and he dropped both it and the box immediately, letting out a long string of curses.

As soon as you saw the red welling up on his finger, you yelled out to Ten, “First aid kit!”

“Shit! Oh my god, you’re going to get fucking tetanus or something and die. Or lose your hand!” You panicked, latching onto Shotaro’s elbow. You dragged him into the nearest bathroom—the women’s room—and started running water in the sink. You yanked up his hoodie sleeves then yours, sticking both his hands under the stream. They were both bloody messes at this point.

Shotaro lit up as he looked at your inked forearms. “Cool tattoos, what—”

“So not the fucking time for a tattoo tour?!” You gestured to his own hands incredulously.

Ten brought the first aid kit in, and the women’s room that only had two stalls anyway was starting to feel cramped now.

“Go see if there’s any blood on the floor or something,” you shooed him out probably too harshly.

With him gone, you focused on washing and drying Shotaro’s uninjured hand before taking a look at the other. Only one of his fingers was cut, thankfully, but you knew the state that box cutter was in—old, rusty, and had probably never been cleaned once.

“I’ll be fine.” Shotaro was surprisingly calm as he watched you.

“You know there’s no cure for tetanus, right? Fuck, Kun’s going to kill me if our weekly can’t perform because I gave the frontman tetanus and he died.” You stressed.

“Oh, I thought you were just worried for me,” his voice was teasing, and if you hadn’t watched him injure himself and flinch in pain with your own two eyes, you would’ve wondered if he had any pain receptors, as he didn’t seem to be bothered whatsoever by you squirting soap onto the cut in that moment.

“Yeah, that too.”

“As an afterthought,” he snickered.

You pushed the shoulder of his uninjured hand. “Shut up and clean your cut.”

“Really, I’m touched.” He was still smirking as he obliged, gingerly running the tip of his thumb over the area to work the soap around the cut, the water finally running clear. You turned the sink off then grabbed paper towels and his hand, starting to dry the cut off. “Will it make you feel better if I tell you I’m upped on my tetanus booster?”

“Are you?”

He shrugged.

“Then no, that does not make me feel better,” you scoffed, inspecting the wound now that it was dry. On the bright side, the box cutter being as old and dull as it was meant that the cut wasn’t very deep. The bleeding had already stopped. As you went to grab the band-aids from the first-aid kit, you realized Shotaro was still watching you, this time with a funny smile on his face. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re always so… cool. In like this unreachable, detached way. Is it bad to say I’m kind of enjoying seeing you like this too?”

“Panicking and pissed off that you’re not taking tetanus serious enough?” You shot him an unamused look, ripping open a band-aid. “Yes, I’d say that’s a strange thing to enjoy.”

“Strange,” he repeated happily. “Not bad.”

“I suppose that is what I said.” You wrapped the band-aid around the cut. “There. All better. Unless you get tetanus and die.”

“I pinky promise I won’t get tetanus and die.” He held the pinky finger of his injured hand out to you.

You eyed his hand. “I super don’t think that’s how this works.”

Shotaro shook it more insistently. You sighed, linking your pinky with his. “If you get tetanus and die, I’m going to kill you.”

“I super don’t think that’s how that works.”

Thursday rolled around, and you were actually grateful when a spotted head of hair poked into the back office that evening.

“I’m alive!” Shotaro announced cheerily.

“So you are.” You smiled, taking out his in-ears from the desk drawer, as well as the brand-new bag of Sour Patch Kids you had tucked in there. “For you. I can’t pay you with money for helping out, but I really do appreciate it, Shotaro. And I’m sorry that you got injured helping me, too. If Sour Patch aren’t your thing, let me know what you do like and I’ll pick some up for you next week.”

Anybody else would’ve thought you’d just given him a handmade sweater the way he clutched the bag of candy to his chest and looked at you with big eyes. “These are my favorites! How—Did Sungchan tell you or something?”

“Took a wild guess.” You finished up the online order you were placing for restocking your in-house merch. “Also, do you guys have merch?”

“Huh?” Shotaro was looking right at you, but clearly hadn’t heard a word you’d said.

“Merch. Shirts, CDs, stuff for people to buy. Do you guys have any? We can keep it in stock here.”

He blinked, finally processing your question. “We sold out of all our shirts on tour… and we were talking about getting new designs the next time we got some made anyway. We’ve only got a few CDs left now. So… no…”

You clicked your tongue, logging out of the computer and standing up. “Well, whenever you get to it, we can keep them stocked here for you guys. Oh, and I know a few good artists who do that kind of stuff, if you’re looking for someone.”

As you talked, you had started ushering Shotaro out of the office, shutting the door behind you. He stopped in the narrow hallway outside it, made even more cramped by the cardboard boxes of miscellaneous props, merch, and decorations stored back here because you had run out of room in your actual storage closet. He was so close you were certain you could accurately count the piercings on his ears and face if you were patient enough. You tried to take a step back, only to hit your head on the office door that you had just closed.

“Fuck!” You hissed under your breath, clutching your head. “Shotaro, you mind? Don’t you have a soundcheck to do or something?”

“Sorry! Are you okay?” He winced sympathetically, still not moving away, if anything, getting closer as he tried to check on you. “That didn’t sound good—”

“I’m fine!” You insisted. “Soundcheck! Go do it!”

“Right!” He gave you a thumbs-up, then shook his giant bag of candy. “Thank you again!”

After he had sprinted away, you let out a relieved groan, leaning back against the door and looking up at the water-stained ceiling.

“Is that sanitary?” Eunseok’s voice announced Roses for Eyes’ arrival that particular afternoon, as you sat atop the bar counter, scrolling on your phone in one of your few moments of peace and quiet around Venue:Hell.

“Kiss my ass, Eunseok,” you replied without even looking up.

“Yeah, I’ll get in line,” he retorted, making Sungchan and Wonbin laugh.

That finally prompted you to slide your gaze up, just in time to see the three of them laughing over by the stage as Shotaro flipped them all off over his shoulder, making his way towards you. He had two cups in one hand, one with a bright green straw in it, and the other without a straw, and you saw that the other three band members each had a plastic cup with a straw sticking out of them as well. You silently watched Shotaro approach, raising an eyebrow at him once he’d stopped in front of you.

“We were getting boba on our way here, and thought we’d grab you one, too.” His cheeks were a bright pink as he held the unopened cup out to you, and fished a packaged purple straw out from the front pocket of his black jean jacket.

“Who’s this ‘we’ that you’re talking about?” You asked humorously. “They all apparently think getting me boba is kissing my ass.”

Shotaro straightened up, puffing his chest out. “Actually, yeah. Fuck ‘em. I got you one because I thought it’d be nice to get you one too since you do so much for us every week. It’s uh-It’s honey milk tea, because I didn’t know what flavor you liked.”

“Thank you, Shotaro.” You accepted the cup and straw from him graciously, to a chorus of snickers from the spectators on the other side of the floor. “Honey milk tea is more than acceptable.”

“But it’s not your favorite?”

“I don’t have a favorite.” You set the cup on the bartop beside you to stab the straw into it.

“You—Hey, are those mine?” He seemed to have finally noticed the sunglasses perched atop your head.

“What? These?” You teased, tapping the plastic accessory arm on one side of your head.

“I was looking for those today!”

You took them off, offering them out towards him. “You left them here last week.”

Shotaro took the glasses just to turn them right back around, take a step closer to you, and place them back on your head, a fond smile on his face as he did so. “I think you look better in them, actually. You can hold onto them for a little longer.”

You swallowed, your chest suddenly feeling too tight for your heart, and six eyes suddenly feeling like way too many to be in the room with you two right now. You chuckled, trying to keep up the congenial tone as you once more pulled them off. This time, you folded the arms and tucked the sunglasses into Shotaro’s jacket pocket for him. “Thanks, Shotaro, but I can’t take your sunglasses. They’re really rockstar sunglasses anyway, not for someone like me.”

At that moment, you grabbed your boba tea and hopped off the bar, scooting out from between him and the counter. You avoided looking at the others, beelining for the back office.

When Shotaro had to come get his in-ears from you just a few minutes later, you gave him the same pleasant smile as usual, handing him the case. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” He tapped the case against his palm, the sound dampened by the fingerless gloves he was wearing that day. “What did you mean? When you said someone like you.”

“Wh—About the sunglasses?” You’d hardly expected him to confront you about that comment at all, much less alone now, just you and him in the office, no peanut gallery. While six eyes had felt like too many, this felt far too intimate. You somehow felt more exposed than before. “Like I said—They’re cool rockstar sunglasses, that’s what you are. You should wear them you know, up on stage, being all cool and stuff. I’m crew; no point in me wearing them while I’m sitting back here where nobody can see them.”

He frowned, but thankfully didn’t try to give them to you again. “I think you’re cool, Y/N.”

With that, he left the office.

“Hey—Woah.” Yangyang stopped midsentence, blinking at you from the office doorway.

“You’re losing your ears, puppy,” you snickered.

“I’m not a—!” He whined, catching the wolf ears that were sliding off his head just in time. “I’m a werewolf!”

“Sure,” you snorted, spinning your desk chair around to face him. “So what did you need, Yang?”

“Ten has a question about how we should set up the line out front.”

“Alright.” You stood up, smoothing out your long black dress. Today was Venue:Hell’s Halloween event, Hallowfreaks, so the whole staff was dressed up. You didn’t have time to think about a costume this time, so you just took out your Morticia Addams costume from last year.

Meeting Ten out front, you couldn’t even compliment his own “werewolf” costume, as he immediately tilted his head with interest upon seeing yours. You looked down at your dress, wondering if you had somehow spilled something on it unknowingly.

He didn’t leave you in the dark long, though. “You did a matching costume with Taro?”

“What?”

“Shotaro.”

The singer whipped around at the sound of his name. And there was no doubt as to who he was dressed as: His spotted blonde and black hair was slicked back and it looked like he had even used some kind of spray to make it fully black, he had donned a pinstriped suit and dress shoes, and drawn on a mustache to finish off the Gomez Addams look.

The initial recognition at his name being called turned to excitement as he realized what your costume was as well.

“Wait, seriously?!” He laughed, jumping up and down with elation. “That’s awesome!”

“I thought you guys would’ve done a group costume or something.” You crossed your arms.

“We were thinking about it, but Sungchan wanted to do a couple’s costume with his girlfriend. We thought it would look weird onstage if the three of us had a group costume without him, so we just all did our own thing.”

“Sensible.”

“C’mere, we’ve got to show them!” He grabbed your arm, and you let him drag you elsewhere backstage, into the green room where his other three band members were waiting around before their soundcheck. “Guys!”

“What’s this?” Eunseok grinned, pointing between the two of you.

“Taro, you didn’t mention you were doing a couple’s costume with Y/N,” Sungchan teased.

You rolled your eyes. “Not planned, you little shits.”

“Kinda weird that it happened, though,” Wonbin pointed out through a yawn. “Like, you know? What does it mean?”

“It means I was too lazy to buy a new costume and wore my one from last year, and Shotaro… I don’t know, something.”

“I like the movies,” he added quietly.

“He likes the movies!” You repeated triumphantly.

But the others were long gone, laughing and joking among themselves. Shaking your head, you turned back to Shotaro. “I’ll grab your in-ears.”

“I’ll come with.”

The venue was buzzing with excitement for the holiday, but the back office was quiet as always. You passed Kun in the hallway, giving him a quick nod as he rushed off to do something.

“Your in-ears,” you handed him the case, and a small bag of candy, “and Happy Halloween.”

“Sour Patch Kids!” His face lit up.

“Some place on my way to work was handing them out to people walking by. They’re not my favorite, so I figured I’d give it to you.”

“You don’t like them?” He questioned, ripping open the small package.

“They’re fine.” You shrugged, leaning back against the desk. “But you love them.”

He smiled as he grabbed a gummy. “Thanks.”

“This is Roses for Eyes’ first special event here, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is.” He confirmed. “Sungchan’s really excited.”

“Why’s that? He really like Halloween or something?”

“This is the first performance since we’ve had this gig that his girlfriend is going to be here for,” Shotaro explained. “She’s been on the road for the past two months.”

“She’s in the industry too?”

“Yeah, she does tour management.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to keep your voice as neutral as possible. “Good for them.”

“Yeah…” Shotaro looked at you carefully. “But why’d you say it like that?”

Not neutral enough, apparently. You purposefully avoided meeting his gaze. “Like what?”

“Like… I don’t know. Like you had another opinion.”

“I meant it. Good for them.” You hoped at least that much came across as genuine. “I’ve been around the scene for long enough to see plenty of relationships like that end badly. Especially ones between talent and crew.”

His big eyes watched you carefully as he chewed, swallowed, and cautiously asked, “Personal experience?”

“What did I just say? I’ve seen it. Not had it happen to me,” you replied firmly. Pointing to the door, you said, “Now go do your soundcheck, Shotaro.”

You were waiting backstage for Roses for Eyes after their set. The stage was being prepared for the next live act, and the band was still energetic.

“Good job, guys,” you congratulated them as Shotaro handed over his in-ears.

“Thanks.” Sungchan patted your head as he hurried by, apparently with somewhere to be.

“He’s got to find his girlfriend,” Eunseok informed you, wiping his face with his shirt, and taking half his No Face facepaint off in the process.

You narrowed your eyes at Shotaro. “Missing something?”

“I gave you them!” He defended himself.

“Your guitar.”

He patted his front and back, eyes going wide. “Shit!”

Wonbin and Eunseok burst into laughter as Shotaro darted back onto stage, apologizing to the staff and band still setting up. The other two wandered off, presumably to put their own equipment away. Shotaro snatched his guitar from the stand and ran back over to you, panting as he tried to catch his breath.

“Okay, that’s the first time that’s ever happened,” he promised.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“I saw you in the back, during some of the set,” he was absolutely beaming at you.

“Yeah, with Kun here tonight, I can actually get some breathing room. I was able to stop and watch a bit.” You patted his arm. “Like I said, good job, mon cher.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, smiling down at his feet. “Thanks, cara mia.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, covering your mouth as you did.

“What? What’s so funny?” He asked with a chuckle.

“It is pretty funny that we accidentally did two halves of a matching costume. Everyone had a right to be weirded out.”

“Oh, yeah,” he agreed. “Weird coincidence, right?”

“Anyway, you should put your guitar away before you lose it again and I have to confiscate that as well, okay?”

“Okay, okay.”

“I’m going to put your in-ears in the office. If you guys don’t have anything better to do, Hallowfreaks is going on until 2 a.m.”

“Don’t tell me you’re working that whole time?” He asked in disbelief.

“Where else would I be?”

Winter rolled around, and you were once again crouched behind the merch counter doing inventory. Seasons change, but the pain of doing inventory never does.

“Nah, it’ll be Taro,” Yangyang insisted.

“I think it’ll be Sungchan trying to embarrass Taro,” Kunhang replied.

“Mm, could be Eunseok trying to piss Y/N off while simultaneously embarrassing Taro,” Ten gave his input on whatever the hell they were talking about near Yangyang’s sound equipment.

You poked your head above the merch counter now that you’d heard your own name. “Hey! What are you guys talking about?”

Three heads peeked around the black curtains. Ten answered your question, “We’re betting on which one of them will say something first when they get here today.”

“And none of you said Wonbin because he’ll probably be half-asleep anyway,” you guessed.

“Yep!” Kunhang nodded.

You just sighed loudly and went back to your task. A few minutes later, the back door opened, followed by the overlapping voices of Sungchan and Shotaro in a quiet but heated argument about… something indistinguishable to you. It was ended by an alarmingly loud smacking sound followed by dead silence, which prompted you to peer over the counter, a little concerned. The guys would playfight or bicker sometimes, but it always devolved into laughter.

The four of them were silent, but the angry tension was choking. You tried to quickly duck your head back down, hoping nobody saw you. But of course Shotaro did. It was only a few minutes later, after they put all their stuff down in the green room, that Shotaro was leaning over the merch counter on his elbows to talk to you.

“Hi, Y/N.” He offered you a smile, but you noticed it seemed a little strained this time.

“Hey, Shotaro,” you greeted him, not addressing the band’s entrance. Having just finished up with inventory, you stood up, groaning with relief.

The singer’s smile turned genuine then. “You’re wearing our merch.”

You looked down at the front of the hoodie you were wearing. “Oh, yeah. Don’t worry, I paid for it.”

“I wasn’t worried about that.” His eyes shined as he looked at you. “I’m—I didn’t think you’d…”

“I’ve gotta rep the home team, right?” You gestured to the building around you. “It’s super comfy, too. Come on, let’s get your in-ears.”

In the office, you grabbed the case from the desk, watching Shotaro fuss with his lipring with his front teeth, bouncing from his heels to his toes.

“Look,” you sighed. “You don’t have to tell me what it’s about… but is everything okay with you guys?”

He pulled at his fingerless gloves. “You didn’t hear what Sungchan was saying?”

“No, nothing.”

“We’ll be okay,” he reassured you. “We’ve had worse fights. I mean, not since I was like, twelve, but it’ll be fine.”

You let your uncertainty be visible on your face. “Alright, you know him better than I do. Like I always say, if you need something, let me know.”

“Thanks, Y/N. I appreciate that you’re concerned about us.” Shotaro held a hand out for his in-ears, and you placed them in his waiting palm.

A little while later, you went out to start setting up the stools to find Shotaro alone on stage tuning his guitar. You went about your business as he seemed absorbed in his own task.

“I looked it up,” Shotaro called out to you before he played a chord, then adjusted one of the tuning pegs. “There’s no cure for tetanus.”

You looked at him over your shoulder, pulling a stool down from the high-top. “I know.”

Another chord. “I know you know.” More tuning. “You said that when I cut myself with the box cutter.”

“And…?”

“How did you know that?”

“My sister’s a doctor,” you answered simply, continuing to set up the furniture.

The guitarist stopped completely, staring at you. “Wait, really?”

“Why do you look so surprised?” You chuckled, leaning against one of the tables. “Can’t believe I’m related to a doctor and work in this place?”

“No, not that.” He shook his head as if trying to shake himself out of a stupor. “You just never tell me about that kind of stuff.”

“We both lived at home when she was in med school. I helped her with flashcards and stuff when she’d study.” You shrugged and went back to setting up. “Random stuff stuck.”

The other members of Roses for Eyes came out on stage then, cutting the conversation short as they started their soundcheck.

Poking your head into the band’s green room that particular evening, you were surprised to only find one member. Sure, a couple might be out on a food run, or wandering around the venue distracting your staff, but more often than not they were all in here between soundcheck and their set.

Regardless, you really only needed one of them at the moment. “Shotaro.”

“Yes!” He immediately shot up from where he had been sprawled out on the tiny couch, facing away from the door. His dalmatian hair had finally faded, and he was now completely platinum blonde with a shorter, spikier cut.

You quickly shot your boss a text back as you also flicked through the upcoming events spreadsheet for the venue. Not even looking up from your phone, you asked, “Got Valentine’s Day plans?”

Something collided with the edge of the table as Shotaro fell off the couch at that exact moment. You glimpsed the tail end of him scrambling to his feet, rushing to answer you, “No! Not at all! Uhm, what were you—”

“We’re putting on an Anti-Romantics Event for singles that night,” you explained, reviewing the details for the event on your screen. “Mix of live stuff and deejayed. Some games, raffles, that kind of stuff too. The headliner slot is yours if you guys want it.”

Shotaro nodded fervently. “Yeah! We can do it!”

You raised an eyebrow, looking around the empty room pointedly. “You’re not going to ask the other guys? I figured at least Sungchan might be doing something, you know…”

“Right. I’ll uhm, I’ll double-check with them.”

“I’ll pencil you guys in. Just let me know as soon as possible, okay?”

“Y/N?” Shotaro’s voice echoed as he yelled your name from the main room, obviously just wandering around shouting for you. Tonight was Venue:Hell’s Anti-Romantics Event, and Roses for Eyes had ended up accepting the headliner spot. Apparently, Sungchan’s girlfriend was really chill.

“In here!” You yelled back from inside the women’s bathroom, hunched in front of the mirror with an eyeliner pen and pile of used makeup remover wipes.

“Shit, sorry! I mean, uh—Never mind!”

“I’m doing my make-up,” you snorted. “You can come in.”

The swinging door opened hesitantly, and as soon as he was able to see that you were telling the truth, Shotaro entered fully. You wiped off your latest fail with a groan, grabbing all of the used wipes and tossing them in the trash.

“What are you doing?” He asked curiously.

“I’m trying to draw a broken heart on my cheek,” you explained. “But I can’t draw on my own face for shit.”

“Can I…?” He reached for the eyeliner. You handed it over, leaning back against the sink. He gently tilted your chin up and away from him to give him better access. You looked off to the side to avoid staring directly at him as he leaned in. “So you didn’t have any Valentine’s plans?”

“Nope.”

“Me neither.”

“I figured.”

He chuckled, his warm breath washing over your cheek. “Ouch.”

You rolled your eyes. “You already told me you didn’t have any plans.”

“Right.”

“I like your necklace.” You picked up the heavy chain from where it was sitting on his chest, several miniature heart lockets hanging from it.

“Thanks,” he murmured. “I think your makeup is nice.”

“I’m a sucker for a theme.”

Shotaro took a step back to look at his handiwork, nodding proudly. “Not half-bad, I think.”

You turned to check on it in the mirror, lighting up when you saw a much more legible broken heart than all the ones you’d attempted. “Oh, that’s so much better! Thank you, Shotaro!”

“You’re welcome.”

Eyeing the rest of his outfit, you were struck with an idea. You grabbed him by the shoulders, spinning the two of you around so his back was to the sink. “Your turn.”

“Hm?” He watched you with interest as you took the eyeliner pen from him and tossed it into your makeup bag, rooting around in there for something else. Finally, you secured a compact of blush and brush, holding them up eagerly.

“Trust me?” You requested.

He smiled fondly, relaxing back against the sink. “Go for it.”

You dusted the bright-colored blush across his cheeks and nose, focusing the majority of it in the center. When you were done, you had a victorious grin on your face. He now looked like a perfect little pop punk Cupid. The rest of his outfit was his usual mishmash of black and bright neon colors—this time solely hot pink—accessorized with more black, spikes, and metal chains. The blush was just the icing on the cake, especially when you saw that he had put a teeny, tiny silver heart stud in his nose piercing.

“Perfect,” you announced with finality, putting the makeup away.

Shotaro blinked his eyes open uncertainly, and you gestured for him to look in the mirror. He laughed, nodding his approval. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I thought you were doing.”

“Let me know how many numbers you leave with at the end of the night,” you quipped.

“What?” All the humor was drained from his features as he looked from the mirror over to you.

“Uhm, I don’t know how to tell you this, but you’re the frontman of the headlining act at an event for singles on Valentine’s Day, and I just made you look ten times more edible than usual.” You patted him on the shoulder. “You’re welcome.”

“I don’t want anybody’s number.”

You were slightly alarmed at the rate that this conversation had taken a nosedive, quickly trying to gloss over the tense moment. “Of course. Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“You really think I’m edible?” He asked with a knowing smirk.

“Mm, I guess I did say something like that,” you answered noncommittally, grabbing your makeup bag. “I’ll go get your in-ears for you.”

“I’m not them.” Shotaro’s biting words stopped you in your tracks before you could even grab the door handle.

“What?”

He was still leaning back against the sink, crossing his arms over his chest as he held your confused gaze. “Whoever you’re comparing me to in your head. Whoever you think I’m going to end up being exactly like. I’m not them.”

“Shotaro…” You breathed out his name, unable to think of a quick deflection this time, hoping he would just let it go.

“You’re not stupid, Y/N. I know you’re not.” He stood up, stepping closer to you. “You always stop yourself right before… I’m sure you think you’re not leading me on or whatever, but I know you know how stupidly head over heels I am for you, because I don’t try to hide it.”

You winced, your stomach dropping to the floor. So he really did want to have this conversation. “I’m sorry. I should’ve said something. I thought… I don’t know, that I needed better words before I said anything. But saying something would’ve been better than doing this to you. I’m so sorry, Shotaro.”

“Tell me. Whatever words you do have, even if you think they’re bad,” he insisted.

“Why?”

“Because I still want to know everything about you, even if it’s the reasons you’re rejecting me,” he chuckled cynically, his eyes still shining as he looked at you.

You sank your teeth into your bottom lip as you tried to think of where to start. You knew you owed Shotaro this much, at least. Finally, you decided on, “I dated the lead singer of a band a few years ago, when I started here. I was young and stupidly in love with him and really believed him when he told me I was special. He was cheating on me the whole time.” You watched Shotaro’s eyes go big. “Every time he went on tour, even at concerts here. I think the worst part wasn’t even how many times he cheated on me, but how many times I caught him doing it and believed him when he said it meant nothing and he’d never do it again.”

“Y/N—”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, Shotaro. Really,” you reassured him. “I-I don’t know if I can trust myself to not… realize when something like that is happening again. To not realize when I’ve lost myself like that. I’m sorry.”

You rushed out of the bathroom then, unable to bring yourself to hear what he said next, whatever surely sweet, reassuring, reasonable thing he would say. You couldn’t hear it, not now. You were stuck, and now you’d gotten Shotaro stuck too.

Grabbing the in-ears from your office, you were glad to almost immediately catch Kunhang in the hallway. “Hey, give these to Shotaro for me.”

He thankfully didn’t question it, and you set off to keep yourself even busier than usual. Which wouldn’t be hard, as Kun wasn’t in that night, meaning that you were overseeing the whole event on your own. You didn’t even see Shotaro again until he was on stage performing with the rest of Roses for Eyes. You were helping out behind the merch table, as the limited-edition event merch you’d gotten was apparently very popular and the bunching up of people around the counter was clogging up the small area.

“They’re killing it tonight,” Ten commented loudly to be heard over the crowd and the music, nodding towards the stage.

“Yeah,” you agreed mildly, watching the performance out of the corner of your eye as you straightened up the stock.

“They’ve been doing really well with the weekly slot, too.”

“Mhm.”

“I heard they’re planning a mini-tour in the summer, though.”

“Cool.”

“Taro mentioned anything to you about that?”

You flashed him a sharp look. “Why would he have told me anything?”

“Because you’re their contact for the slot here?” He gave you a bewildered look back. “They’d have to tell you so you could tell Kun and find someone to fill the slot while they’re gone?”

“Right. Yeah. No, nobody’s said anything to me.”

“And also, he’s got a huge crush on you.”

“God, shut up,” you groaned.

“What? It’s adorable to watch him follow you around like a lost puppy,” your coworker snickered. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed?”

“I’m telling you to shut up about it.”

“Come on, taking the theme a little too literally, Y/N?”

You rolled your eyes, opting to not engage with the conversation at all since he apparently wasn’t going to move on. The presence of the headliner on stage was finally drawing some of the crowd away from the merch line.

Giving Ten an unsympathetic smile, you started backing away from the counter, “Alright, I think you’ve got it from here.”

Ten was still grinning and shaking his head as he let you go without a fight, helping the next person in line. You continued running around the venue, helping with anything that popped up.

As Kunhang was announcing the winners of some of the raffles later in the night, you had eyed trouble at the bar. Sicheng, your bartender, was obviously trying to decline service to an insistent patron while a line of other guests bunched up around the bar.

“Is there a problem here, Sicheng?” You asked, stepping into the situation.

“Oh, Y/N,” he breathed a sigh of relief. “He’s had too many, can you—”

“I’ve got it, you keep serving people,” you reassured him. With his attention on the next people, you turned back to the other man. The guy had clearly had too much to drink, pink-faced and swaying in place. “You’ve had enough, man. How about we get you a water, okay? Or a soda?”

“No, I want another beer!” He insisted.

“No can do, sorry,” you informed him firmly. “Water, soda, or nothing. Alright?”

“Who the fuck are you to tell me no?”

“Manager of the building you’re in right now.”

“Well, manager, tell him to get me another beer.”

“No,” you repeated. “Look, dude, I know tonight can especially suck, but there’s other things to do besides drink. You are cut off. Let’s get you a water, hm?”

“No.”

“Did you come with friends? I can help get you back to them.”

He got up in your face then, and you stepped back, unwittingly jamming the bartop right into your own ribcage. “I said no, bitch.”

“I’m going to ask you to leave if you don’t calm down and get out of my fucking face,” you informed him through gritted teeth. “Come on, dude, don’t make this a bigger deal than it has to be.”

Before he could say anything else, someone grabbed the guy by the shoulder, pulling him away from you. At first you hoped that it was come friends of the guy, finally caught on to what was going on, but your blood turned cold when you saw who it really was.

“Hey, get out of her face,” Shotaro told him, rather calmly, but firmly.

In the next second, the drunk guy had swung, his fist impacting with Shotaro’s face and making his head jerk back. The crowd around you three gasped and backed up, and you felt both anger and panic flood your veins.

“You’re done!” You announced loudly. “Out! Get the fuck out! Sicheng! Call security!”

Your bartender was already on it, his walkie-talkie up by his mouth and his request for back-up coming through your own earpiece very clearly. You watched the venue’s guard who very rarely had to leave his post by the front door lumber up, grabbing the guy by the collar and pulling him through the crowd.

Shotaro was stood in the same spot, slightly hunched over as he held onto the edge of the bar, cradling his cheek. You sighed, grabbing his arm. “Come on.”

He let you guide him away from the crowd, the din of the music fading as you took him into the back office, shutting the door behind you. You gestured to the desk chair for him to sit in, and he obliged. After getting out the small first aid kit that was kept in here, you leaned back against the desk, pulling his hand down from his face to inspect the damage.

“We have security, you know,” you said quietly, cracking a cold pack and massaging it in your hands to get the reaction going.

“Didn’t seem like they were helping you,” he replied.

You grabbed a couple tissues from the dispenser on the desk, pressing them to where blood was welling up from a cut on his cheek. “Because I hadn’t called them.”

“Why not?”

“Because I was handling it.” Tossing the bloodied tissues in the trash, you applied a band-aid to the open wound before holding the cold pack out to him.

He accepted it, looking down at his lap guiltily. “I’m sorry.”

“C’mere.” You stood up and stepped closer to him, reaching for his face with both your hands.

“Hm?” He looked up at you curiously. You turned his head so you could gently press your thumbs against his cheekbone and the area around his eye where he’d been hit. “Ow…”

“Sorry. I don’t think he broke anything. You’ll probably just have some bruising for a while,” you declared softly, pulling his hand that was holding the cold pack up to his cheek. “And a nasty cut from his ugly rings.”

He chuckled a little, and you smiled back. “Learn that from your sister?”

“No, just had to break up a few fights here before.”

“Really?”

“We weren’t always such a classy establishment,” you joked, sitting back down on the edge of the desk in front of him. “We’re called Venue:Hell for a reason, and not just because we’re underground.”

“Here I thought you guys were just trying to be edgy.”

You were still replaying it in your mind, of how quick it happened, from Shotaro grabbing the guy to him getting punched. “You thought that guy was going to hit me or something, right?”

“He was getting up in your face…” He hissed and pulled the cold pack down from his face for a moment, then put it back up, wincing. “Even if he didn’t, he shouldn’t have been yelling at you like that.”

“Occupational hazard,” you shrugged. After a beat, you added sincerely, “Thanks, Shotaro.”

“Why do you call me Shotaro? To keep me at a distance?” He asked, a thoughtful frown on his face. “Everyone calls me Taro, I even told you to call me Taro. But you never have.”

“I’m pretty sure you said that I can call you Taro, not that you wanted me to,” you pointed out. Seeing the distress on his face, though, you said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it meant so much to you.”

“It doesn’t, really. But when it’s you… it hurts. Everything feels like the best thing that’s ever happened to me and the worst at the same time.”

“I…” You trailed off uncertainly. What were you even supposed to say to that?

“Like, I make you laugh and I’m fucking on Cloud Nine. And then I somehow take it too far, or say something that makes you run away and I kind of feel like I’m literally dying.” He slumped back into the desk chair with a sharp laugh, still pressing the cold pack to his face.

“That sounds awful, I’m so—”

“No, stop it. It’s not awful, and I want you to stop apologizing to me.”

“Okay.”

Shotaro sighed, looking down at his free hand as he futzed with his jewelry. “That guy’s rings were pretty ugly.”

You let out a sputtering laugh, happy for some of the tension in your chest to dissolve in that moment. “Yeah, they really were.”

That night, you got home from work in the wee hours of the morning, not even bothering to turn your apartment light on, simply tossing your backpack in the direction of your couch and shuffling towards your bedroom. You got ready for bed on autopilot, exhausted as you always were after work.

Wiping off your makeup in the mirror, you hovered over the broken heart on your cheek, recalling just how fast that conversation had gone downhill, then Shotaro getting punched later in the night. Letting out a deep breath, you finished up in the bathroom and shut that light off. After changing into your pajamas, you lay in bed alone, staring up at your ceiling. Alone. You’d be going back to Venue:Hell in less than ten hours. And after that, you’d come home again. Alone. Then go back to work. Then come home. Then go back. Then come home. Work. Home. Work. Home. Work. Home. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone.

The line rang, and rang, and with every ring, your urge to hang up grew. Of fucking course he didn’t want to talk to you—

“Y/N?” Shotaro’s voice was foggy, and it was apparent you’d woken him.

“Taro, hey,” you said quietly, already regretting this. “I woke you up, didn’t I? Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he grumbled, and you heard the sounds of him rolling over and readjusting in bed. “Is everything okay? You’re not still at work, are you?”

“No, no, I’m home.”

“Okay, good.”

“Uhm, I just—” You were cut off by a very loud yawn from him. “Sorry, it’s really late and you’ve got to be tired. We can do this later.”

“No, go ahead. You apparently thought it was important enough to call me at fuck you a.m. in the morning,” he chuckled sleepily. “We can do it now. I won’t interrupt again. Promise.”

You took a deep breath, still staring at the inky dark expanse of your ceiling. “I just was thinking… some more… And I do really like you, and if you still… want to… Do you have plans later?”

You heard something thunk, and a loud clunk right by the mic, making you wince away from your speaker, then the distant sounds of him cursing as he scrambled around.

“Sorry, dropped you,” he apologized, sounding much more awake now. “You mean like, not for work?”

“Yeah, like, hanging out. Not at work,” you confirmed. God, is your heartbeat always this fucking loud?

“Yes, absolutely. Yes! Fuck!” He agreed giddily, and you couldn’t help but grin too.

“Okay, uhm, I have to get the venue set up for a show at seven tonight, but we could do lunch before or something? If that works for you?”

“Totally! Yes!”

“Cool.” You smiled at your screen as you checked the time. “It is way too fucking late. Just text me when you wake up and we can sort everything out then.”

“I will. Absolutely.”

“I’ll talk to you then.”

“Yes.”

“Thanks, Taro. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

After some much-needed sleep, you slowly got up, sitting at the edge of your bed, letting your feet graze the carpet below. You were home now, alone, and later you’d be going to work. But before that, you were going to be doing something else. Going somewhere else with someone else.

Speaking of, your phone rang, an incoming call from Shotaro. You picked it up, still rubbing sleep out of one eye. “Mm?”

“Was it real?” He asked in lieu of a greeting.

“What?” You chuckled. “What are you talking about?”

“Do I need a lobotomy right now, or are we actually going on a date?”

You burst into laughter, holding your phone away from your mouth as your laughter devolved into a coughing fit, blindly grabbing for your water cup from your nightstand. After recovering enough, you finally answered, “Hold off on the lobotomy for now.”

“Oh, it was real,” he let out a sigh of relief. “God, I seriously woke up and couldn’t tell if I had dreamt that whole conversation or not.”

“No, I really did call you at ‘fuck you a.m. in the morning’ last night, sorry.”

He snickered. “I said that?”

“You did.”

“Well, you’re more than welcome to call me at fuck you a.m. any night, especially if it’s going to be something that good.” His grin was audible through the phone. “So what time should I pick you up?”

“We haven’t even decided where we’re going?”

“Lunch,” he said confidently. “I’ve got it. You did the hard part, let me do the rest.”

You looked at the time on your phone. “Two hours?”

“Done. Send me your address.”

“Hey—Oh my God,” you cut yourself off laughing, covering your face as soon as you saw Shotaro standing there with a bouquet of flowers. “You seriously—Oh my God.”

“What? What is funny about this?” He held them out to you even more insistently.

You accepted them, still shaking your head. “Nothing. Come in so I can put them in water.”

He obliged, quietly closing your door behind him.

“I just honestly don’t think a man has ever brought me flowers,” you admitted, opening your cabinet to try to find some kind of vessel. “I was caught off-guard. I didn’t mean to laugh in your face, I’m sorry. You’re very sweet, Taro.”

“Seriously?” He watched you bring down an old empty water jug and fill it up from your sink, then plop the flowers in there.

“Seriously.” You paused in front of him, eyes focused on his left cheek, where a bruise had blossomed out far beyond the edges of the bandage you’d applied last night. Frowning, you delicately touched just under his cheekbone. “How is it?”

“I’m fine,” he reassured you, letting you continue to inspect the wound. “Barely even feel it.”

“Liar.”

He beamed. “Maybe.”

“You know that I’m going to be kind of bad at this, right?” You asked in a lull in conversation at lunch, picking at your food with your utensil.

“At… eating?” Shotaro asked in turn, his cheeks full with his own food as he looked at you with wide, confused eyes. “You seem to be doing pretty alright to me.”

“No,” you chuckled and shook your head. “At… this.” You pointed between the two of you. “It’s been a while, and I didn’t have the best experience last time.”

He swallowed and nodded, offering his hand out across the table, palm up. “I know.” Hesitantly, you put your own hand in his, and he squeezed yours gently, a soft smile on his face as he gazed at you. “Like I said, you already did the hard part, that’s why I’m taking care of everything else today. I get how difficult it must be for you to be doing this right now.”

“Thanks.” You squeezed his hand back.

“You really don’t have to do this,” you sighed as you and Shotaro walked down the sidewalks together after lunch.

“What are you talking about? Of course I have to make sure my girlfriend gets to work safe,” he scoffed, elbowing you.

“Hey hey hey!” You smacked his arm. “We’ve been on one date, kinda. What’s with the g-word?”

“‘The g-word,’” he repeated with a snicker. “If it makes you feel better, you can call me the b-word.”

“Bitch?” You blinked at him innocently.

He elbowed you again. “Rude!”

You laughed loudly, clutching your stomach as you had to stop to catch your breath. “Come on, you walked right into that one.”

“Yeah, I did.” He agreed, watching you with a fond smile on his face.

“I’m serious though, you can’t just be throwing words like that around after one kinda-date.”

Shotaro grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers through yours as you kept walking. “And what is the difference between a date and a kinda-date?”

“I don’t know. We were just like… hanging out. You know?” You shrugged. “I don’t know, I told you I was going to be bad at this!”

He laughed. “I brought you flowers, paid for your lunch, we’re holding hands… I’m failing to see how this isn’t date behavior.”

You looked down at your entwined hands, skin heating up. “Point taken.”

You’d made it to Venue:Hell and approached the back door, taking your keys out of your pocket.

“You know what else people do on dates?” He asked slyly, tugging on your hand so you’d turn around and face him. “Kiss goodbye.”

“Talking like I’ve never been on a date ever,” you scoffed, hooking your fingers in his belt loops and pulling him closer. You smiled when you saw his cheeks turn bright pink—no blush necessary this time. Shotaro’s hands landed on your waist as you grabbed the back of his neck and slotted your lips together. The cool metal of his lip ring pressed against your skin, made even colder by the crisp weather outside. He met you beat for beat, never taking over, following your lead until you finally broke apart. The kiss was sweet, reminiscent of the boba tea you’d grabbed after lunch.

“Ah, shit,” he chuckled, hanging his head.

“What?”

“Now I don’t want to go.” He snuck another kiss to your cheek, just grazing the corner of your mouth.

“You’re a menace.” You sighed, in a similar predicament. With warning in your voice, you said, “You can hang out—”

“Yes!” He cheered.

“—until somebody else gets here,” you finished your sentence pointedly, turning around to unlock the door. “Because some people actually work around here, and you’re not performing tonight.”

“Pretty sure you’re the only person who actually does any work around here,” he teased.

“I know, which is why I can’t have you distracting everyone else even more.” You unlocked the door and disabled the alarm, leading Shotaro in by the hand.

“I’m not a distraction!”

“All you’ve been doing for the past six months is distracting me.”

“I help you!”

You clicked your tongue. “And get injured in the process.”

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, following you into the office. “It’s the thought that counts?”

“Let me change your band-aid, while you’re here,” you offered, pointing to the desk chair. “You’ve still got the same gross one on from last night.”

Shotaro peeled off the old bandage and tossed it in the trash while you grabbed a new one from the first aid kit.

“I’m going to have to tell Kun,” you said carefully, opening the new band-aid. “About this.”

He stayed still as you applied the new bandage, then asked, “Me getting punched or us going out?”

“Both.” You groaned and rubbed your face. “Ugh, I don’t even know which one I should start with. Don’t say anything until I tell him, please.”

“I will not tell anybody else until you talk to Kun,” he promised, the phrasing making you narrow your eyes.

“You already told all your bandmates.”

He folded immediately. “Can you blame me? I was excited!”

“The whole building is going to know by soundcheck on Thursday,” you lamented, covering your face.

“I’ll tell the guys I was kidding.”

“They’ll think you’ve lost it.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, probably.”

“As much as I appreciate your willingness to have your best friends think you’re an absolute weirdo loser who would lie about something like that,” you patted his shoulders, “I won’t ask you to do that.”

“I appreciate that.”

You heard the distinct clang of the back door closing, and sighed regretfully. “That’s your cue.”

“Fine, fine.” He stood up, pecking your forehead. “Pick you up later?”

“I get off at midnight?”

“So?”

“Don’t be late,” you hummed, grabbing the door handle.

It was Kunhang who had arrived, clearly surprised to see Shotaro there. “Oh, hey Taro. What are you doing here?”

“He forgot something.” You used the most reasonable excuse.

“Maybe we should just start stapling stuff to you, man,” Kunhang laughed.

“Great idea.” You grinned, patting Shotaro’s arm as you continued ushering him towards the door.

In the stairwell, concealed from your coworker’s gaze, he leaned in, whispering right next to your ear. “I did almost forget something, actually.”

You arched an eyebrow at him, and he cupped your cheek, rings cold against your skin. Your eyes fluttered shut on instinct as you let him tilt your chin, connecting your lips. Your blood roared in your ears as you scrunched his t-shirt in your fist.

The back door opened, and you couldn’t reel back quick enough. To your horror, it was Kun standing there, blinking at you as his keys dangled in one hand.

“Excuse me,” he cleared his throat, scooting right between you and Shotaro in the narrow space of the stairway. He looked back, speaking directly to the singer with you, “Nice shiner there, Taro.”

Shotaro touched his bruised cheek on instinct, giving your manager a thumbs-up with his other hand. “Thanks.”

Kun said nothing else, whistling to himself as he walked further into the venue. You looked at Shotaro with wide eyes, practically shoving him out the door as he burst into laughter.

“Goodbye, Taro!” You said loudly over his cackles.

“See you later,” he whispered back, shooting you a wink right before you slammed the door in his face.

As you turned the corner, you were alarmed to see Kunhang peering at you from his station. “What?”

“Since when do you call him ‘Taro’?”

Upon entering the back office, you saw Kun sitting at the desk, working on something on the computer. He held a familiar pair of silver sunglasses out to you without even taking his eyes off the screen. “I think Taro left these here.”

“Yeah, those are his,” you confirmed, accepting the frames from him. “Uhm, a patron at the event last night had too much to drink, and ended up punching him, by the way.”

Kun looked over at you at that information, lifting both his eyebrows in disbelief. “Taro got into a barfight?”

“He didn’t hit him back, or start it, really. Sicheng and I were trying to cut the other guy off, but he was getting pissed off.”

“Ahh, he thought he was helping you.” Your manager nodded in understanding.

“About that, we’ve only been on one date, and—”

“I don’t need to know all the details. I just don’t want to have to enter the building like that ever again, okay?”

“Heard.”

He cracked a grin then. “I will say—I like him a lot better than the last one.”

“God, don’t remind me,” you groaned and shook your head.

“And that’s the last time I’ll ever bring him up. I’m glad he’s gone.” Kun held his hands up in surrender. “Now go find something to do.”

“Ten’s not scheduled for tonight, so I’m on the front.”

“Go do that.”

“Heard.” You clicked your tongue and gave him a casual salute, heading back out of the office.

Kunhang found you again setting up the barricades for the queue out front. He squinted at you, then laughed, “Oh, those looked like Taro’s sunglasses for a second.”

“They are,” you answered nonchalantly, pushing the frames back up where they were sliding down the bridge of your nose.

“Why are you wearing his sunglasses?”

“Because he forgot them here, it’s bright as hell out, and I don’t have another pair on me.”

“That’s… reasonable.”

“You said that weird.”

“Well, here’s the thing—” Your coworker stopped where he was rearranging the barricades, facing you. “I don’t think you’ve noticed but I’m like… 99% sure the guy has a huge crush on you.”

You kept a straight face. “Really?”

“Yeah, the poor guy is like… so down bad it’s not even funny anymore. Kinda a bit sad, actually.” He sighed. “So I just think that you wearing his sunglasses… it’s gonna mess with his head, you know?”

“You think so?” You scrunched your nose, pretending to think really hard about it.

“Yeah.”

You eventually shook your head. “I don’t know, I don’t think he does…”

It was ten till midnight, and you looked between the time and the back door.

“If you’ve got somewhere you need to be, you can go,” Kunhang nudged you with his knee.

“Yeah, you’ve been checking your phone every ten seconds,” Yangyang snorted, scrolling on his phone. “Seriously, we’ve got it. We’ve done a bajillion dance nights, and Kun is here in case something goes horribly wrong.”

You ignored them, instead looking directly at your sound tech. “Hey, Yang, weird question: Do you think Taro has a crush on me?”

He burst out laughing, grabbing his sides as he keeled forward, barely catching himself on Kunhang’s leg. Still giggling, he sobered up enough to say, “Well, duh. Y/N, oh my God, I never pegged you for an idiot. What the fuck? Did you seriously not—”

The back door opened then, and you immediately spotted Shotaro descending the stairs, looking around the crowded room.

“That’s spooky,” Yangyang muttered. “Do you think he like, heard me somehow?”

“He was here earlier to see Y/N,” Kunhang said pointedly. “See? He totally—”

You simply raised your hand and waved until Shotaro saw you, immediately perking up and making his way across the venue. Your coworkers had half a mind to shut up as the guitarist stopped in front of you three.

“Hey guys,” he smiled at the other two, then pointed at the sunglasses perched atop your head. “Those are mine.”

“You forgot them here,” you informed him smugly, leaning back in your seat and taking them off. You let them dangle by the arm off the tip of your finger as you held them out to him.

“I told you I forgot something,” he teased, taking the sunglasses back. He turned the shades around, leaning in as he tucked them back into your hair. “They look better on you anyway.”

You left them there this time, grinning up at him. “I think you’re right, actually.”

“You good to go?”

“Yep.” You got to your feet, tossing your dumbfounded coworkers a goodbye over your shoulder. Shotaro’s hand found yours, keeping you close as you weaved through the crowd.

It was Thursday again, and you were backstage, monitoring the band as they got ready to go on. There was a hustle and bustle like usual, and right as they were preparing to step onto stage, you called out expectantly, “Taro? Forget something?”

“Oh, right,” he grinned and shook his head, jogging over to you. He held your face with two hands, kissing you right there backstage, his lips still sugary sweet from the Sour Patch Kids he’d been snacking on moments prior.

After he’d pulled back, you held up his in-ears and pack, which he’d given you when he needed a very last-minute run to the bathroom. “I meant these.”

You could hear the snickers from his bandmates as he took the equipment from you, rushing to put it all back on. “Yeah, that too, I guess. What if I said I’ve been losing things on purpose this entire time as a genius ploy to—”

“Go perform already! I’m sick of you!” You rolled your eyes dramatically and pushed him away, back towards the stage.

“Fine, only because you asked so nicely.” He winked, dashing back over just in time to run out on stage with the rest of the band.

“What the hell?” Ten was just off to your side, staring at you, accompanied by Sicheng. You didn’t want to know who was at the bar right now.

“What?” You tilted your head innocently, walking over to them.

“Taro just kissed you?” He looked around, bewildered. “Sicheng, that was crazy, right?”

“Huh?” Your bartender glanced between the two of you, seeming just as lost. “Have they not been dating this whole time?”

⤷ masterlist

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lisired · 8 months ago

Text

pretty little weapon

pairing: undercover cop!mark x (f) reader

genre/warnings: smut, organized crime, cop x criminal, graphic depictions of blood and violence, mentions of death, smut, choking, oral (f receiving), biting, a pinch of angst, mentions of pregnancy-related death, unprotected sex (dont b silly, wrap ur willy!), vague mentions of sexual assault

summary: A lifetime worth of adversity had brought you to Bloodlust. You joined them to escape your history, but with Mark Lee - an undercover narcotics agent with a secret to keep - comes the threat of being forced to confront your past. Old wounds are opened, but scars heal.

word count: 25.7k (…i have nothing to say for myself.)

a/n: inspired by PLW by leon thomas, bad news by kehlani, and perfect crime by tinashe! bon appetite! I did this on a whim. read this with the 2 baddies styling concept in mind. as always, feedback is appreciated!

You were going to be absolutely livid if Yuta didn’t up your pay.

After a long night of work, you anticipated crawling into your sheets. Then waking up to a large sum of money deposited into your account in the morning as courtesy of your hard work.

That never happened.

“This was not in the job description,” you complained to your boss. Though there was technically never a clock for you to be on, you had already firmly clocked out. And when he invited you on this escapade, you were inclined to deny. But he was nothing if not unrelenting.

Yuta smirked and brushed you off. “You do stone cold murder for a living, baby. This is what you signed yourself up for the moment you killed somebody.”

God, you hated when he was right. Sometimes all you ever wanted to do was argue with whatever he said. Moments like this when he began cutting down on your downtime.

Soaring through flocks of people, you kept very close to Yuta’s side, his arm firm around you. People knew not to mess with him, and thus anyone considered his associate. That was one of the beauties of working for Bloodlust, you supposed. As long as you were loyal and faithful to them, you were guaranteed total protection and discretion against anyone.

The tale of how you secured a job of this nature in the first place was relatively simple. You were scouting the streets as usual, given it was the only home you’d known. Violence was absolutely nothing new to you as you had been in your fair share of street gangs prior to Bloodlust. But one thing led to another and you had blood on your hands in an act of self defense. Specifically the blood of your own fellow gangster.

Just your luck, Yuta witnessed the scene. He was a stranger at the time, some shady man offering help that looked like nothing short of trouble. You found yourself surprised that you even took his deal, but you weren’t left with any alternatives. Going back to the gang was not an option; there was no telling how the leader would respond to the blood of your superior being on your very hands. There was no mercy there.

Yuta vowed to cover for you, but you would perpetually owe him in return. You were expecting something more lewd when he informed you that you would be working for him, though you did nothing of the sort. Yuta took you under his wing and handed you a job as a contract killer.

And the rest was history.

You hurdled closer to his chest, pursuing warmth. Given the hour and the season, the outdoors were becoming frostier. You exhaled and saw your breath condensing in the air.

“Stay put,” Yuta said. As if you would run off anywhere. You were tempted, though you weren’t stupid. And though you would never admit it to his face, you loved the street races.

After you nodded, Yuta parted without having to worm his way through the crowd. They respected him, though most of it was out of pure fear. They made way for him whenever they saw him approaching.

You eyed the roads while you waited. The street races were one of your favorite aspects of the gang. They were orchestrated by Yuta and were a great source of profit overall. But watching them was the part you were fond of.

One of the cars before you caught your eye - a neon green Porsche. You had barely laid a finger on the exterior before you were forcibly knocked backwards, your face slung to the other side.

You held your cheek in your palm, adrenaline pumping through your veins. There was no immediate pain. You didn’t even feel like you were in your body. You could only stumble as you grasped to process what happened.

A visibly upset man - one of the racers - was waving his fist at you, screaming this profanity and that, but from the looks of it you hadn’t left as much as a scratch on his car. And if he thought he was going to intimidate you, he had another thing coming. Brutal adrenaline came over you and you socked him square in the jaw. Harder.

The racer was knocked to the ground by the force. “You’re gonna regret that,” he growled. You merely laughed. It was comical and you almost took pity on him. This guy clearly had no idea what forces were on your side. Not until he noticed Yuta and Johnny beginning to rush in his direction and he bolted.

The gang had very simple rules and even simpler consequences. If you disobeyed, you died. They were so simple that if you violated them, they read it as an act of defiance. The most obvious rule was to respect the high-ranks and their associates. The second was to comply, or your punishment would be fatal.

Another man came to your side and lowered you to the ground for inspection. This one you didn’t recognize at all. “Yo, are you okay?”

“It doesn’t hurt that bad,” you said, moving your fingers from your cheek to your lips. When you glanced down at them, you saw blood.

The stranger handed you a napkin. “Here.”

You took it and wiped your mouth, and thus the blood at the corner of your lips. That was one hell of a punch. Rather than feeling pain, you were in a state of immobilizing shock.

“Thanks, uh…,” you squinted your eyes, running his face through the facial recognition system installed in your memory. But you came short. Which was surprising, because you always remembered the faces of the regulars.

“Mark,” the stranger finished. Then he flashed you a smile. “It’s nothing. You should get that checked out, though. Make sure nothing’s broken or fractured.”

You nodded. As a result of uttering any speech, you noticed that your jaw slightly ached when you spoke. For fuck’s sake. None of this would have happened if you were in your bed.

Then Mark disappeared. And you had no time to think before you heard a piercing noise.

Gunshots rang in the distance and you weren’t at all surprised to see Yuta and Johnny return with sinister looks on their faces. Yuta helped you to your feet and asked, “You good, Scar?”

Scar was the alias you’d been granted after Yuta noticed the scar on your stomach. Rather than finding it odd, he was astonished by it. Which was so utterly Yuta of him. The alias served no other purpose than maintaining your confidentiality, but Yuta always thought it had a nice ring to it.

“Not the first time I’ve been punched. I think I’m gonna be fine,” you assured him. The gods had blessed you with an unholy pain tolerance, which all your tattoos were a testament to. You remembered the matching one you got with Yuta and subconsciously smiled.

Friends like Yuta were, needless to say, rare.

All of the evil melted from Yuta’s face and he chuckled. “You’re a tough woman.”

“You love it.”

“I do.” Yuta curled his arm around you again. You were certain he was going to cuff one of your hands to his arm and never let you out of his sight again. “I was surprised that you didn’t finish that guy then and there. You took a pretty mean punch, babe. Must’ve been too shocked.”

That you were. But he was taking a nice load of bullets to the head before you even got the chance.

After the races were over and the roads were cleared out, you followed Yuta to his car. You suddenly had a thought once you hit the road.

“Yuta, do you know someone named Mark?”

Yuta furrowed his brows. “Nah. Why?”

Your heart sank. “Fuck.”

He glanced at you for a split second before returning his eyes to the road, but asked, “What’s wrong?”

“There was this guy at the race. He helped me and gave me a napkin to wipe the blood off of my face, but I didn’t recognize him. He told me his name was Mark.”

Yuta was alarmed. Just as you expected. It was one thing if you didn’t recognize a person at one of the gang’s events, but not Yuta. He had to ensure the attendee’s identities were closely monitored for everyone’s sake.

“Fucking hell?” Yuta handed you his phone and said, “Call Jaemin for me and tell him to look into the records. Maybe it slipped my mind. Let’s not jump to any conclusions, okay?”

You nodded your head and did as told, pressing his phone to your ear. Jaemin told you that he was AFK but would run a search as soon as he got back to the headquarters. Yuta dropped you off promptly and assured you that he’d call you with an update first thing in the morning.

Which only left you to wait.

In the morning, Yuta called you into his office, and you were immensely surprised to see not only him but Ten and Taeyong waiting for you in the room. Technically, you didn’t work for Bloodlust as a whole. There was a team of hitmen that worked specifically under one high-rank, though you were Yuta’s subordinate. Thus, encounters with other high-ranks were rare. Especially the leader.

Taeyong was the leader and the one at the helm of the entire gang. He inherited the title by succession to the metaphorical throne through descent. Yuta was his right-hand man, though given Taeyong rarely stepped out of the shadows unless absolutely necessary, Yuta being perceived as the leader was a popular misconception to outsiders and law enforcement. Which was completely deliberate. The less law enforcement knew, the better. It also made the task of differentiating interlopers from legitimates much lighter.

Ten was the gang’s personal spy. Their eyes to the other world. Just like any other high-rank, he directly supervised an entire branch of people pertaining to his title. Essentially, he was the leader of a team of criminal agents.

None of that explained why they were here, though.

As it was in your best interest, you greeted the three of them very politely. Though Yuta had a threatening position, you were close enough to be informal. Those freedoms didn’t apply to Ten and the leader. They might have been as good as strangers, but considering their influence in the underworld, they could have ended your life and career in an instant if they so pleased.

Glancing at Yuta, you said, “You called me, Boss?”

Yuta resisted a smirk at your attempts to be formal. You never called him ‘Boss’. “I did. I had Jaemin follow up on the Mark guy. We found something recent about him in our records.”

Ten interjected, “But I had a buy-off of mine’s confirm his real identity. He’s a Lee Minhyung. An undercover narcotics agent once tasked with tracking down a drug empire, and now that he shut them down we believe he’s moved on to attempting to infiltrate our ranks.”

Your blood ran cold. Frozen over in your veins. Forever grateful were you that you were excellent at maintaining your composure. Otherwise you would have panicked.

Taeyong stood at the far end of the pair. You had heard numerous things about him, but you were left gasping for air every time you saw him in person. If looks could kill, you would’ve been six feet under. Taeyong continued, “I’m sure you can guess why this is an urgent problem for us. It is my direct responsibility to protect the identities of those that put their faith in this gang and ensure their confidentiality. Now that we have a cop meddling in our affairs, that complicates things.”

That was to put it simply. The police infiltrating their territory was a direct threat imposed to the future of the empire. The moment the diplomacy was dismantled, so was the entire gang. Bloodlust in itself was intended to be an enigma. The purpose of hiring hitmen and establishing them by individual aliases was to deliberately make it difficult to link crimes to the gang. In return, your genuine identities were concealed. There was too much at stake to remain idle.

You supposed it made sense that Mark was kind to you. That made it easier to gain people’s trust. Though in the underworld, it made you look suspicious. Which led you to another question; if he was benevolent to you, did that mean you were specifically targeted?

You leaned forward in your chair and asked, “What does he know about the gang?”

“That’s where we hit a dead end,” said Ten, frustrated thoroughly. Whatever information they were relaying to you was everything they knew themselves. “Since he engaged with you, we considered that he might have a lead on you. If that’s true, most likely he’ll interact with you again given the opportunity.”

That didn’t alarm you. For most of your life, you’d lived on the edge, and that was especially true when you were a member of those prior street gangs. If your old friends sold you out, you wouldn’t be surprised. Yuta informed you early on that Bloodlust could keep your future under lock and key, though not your past.

But you were very suspicious. They wanted something out of you, that much was clear. Something significant. There was no other reason why the leader himself was before you. Though what?

“With all due respect, I don’t understand my involvement in this.”

Taeyong was straightforward. “We want you to play along.”

You nearly gawked. “Excuse me?”

He wasn’t the least bit bothered by you and continued, “The best way to fight fire is with fire. If Lee Minhyung wants to use you as his means of conveying intel, then let him, but lead him astray while doing so.”

In short, they wanted you to give Mark false information. Which steered far from your line of work. Why they chose you for the job in spite of having people actually equipped for the task was a mystery. Yuta was not kidding when he said that you signed yourself up for additional labor the moment you killed somebody.

Frowning, you tried to stave them off. “You’re just gonna send a girl with no prior experience into the wild?”

“Must I remind you that we have full access and authority to all of your history stored in our records?” Ten sneered in amusement. “Think of it as a resume. It’s been a few years, but yours was very memorable. This wouldn’t be your first mole job.”

That was true. Anyone recruited to work for the gang was required to give a complete rundown of their history. Even recruits like you that didn’t respond to them directly. They made it very clear that lying would have put you in an early grave; Bloodlust had eyes everywhere.

“And you wouldn’t be uncompensated. I’ll triple your pay,” Yuta added.

That had your undivided attention. “I’m listening.”

Yuta fought a snicker. He expected nothing less. “We know that this isn’t what you usually do, but the job is very simple. It’s expected that he’ll try to extract information from you, so give him the wrong info. At the same time, try to figure out what he knows and what he wants. There’s a motive behind him targeting you and until we can confirm otherwise, we have to assume you’re his prey and he has valuable intel in his possession.”

“Why not just kill him upfront?”

“He might be valuable,” came Ten’s reply. “Whatever he knows, it’s safe to assume that he isn’t the only one.”

“We will be closely monitoring the entire empire for any turncoats, but he’s not alone. He has a partner,” warned Taeyong with a hefty stare. “So you have to be cautious about what you say to him.”

Ten began to get impatient and said, “So, do we have a deal?”

Tapping the arms of the office chair, you pretended to mull the proposition over although you had already made your decision. If their motive in collectively ganging up against you was to make you feel pressured into agreeing, you were almost inclined to decline the offer out of pure spite. But the genuine interest you had in the assignment discouraged you. There was too much at stake to play games.

There’s no good reason to decline, you decided halfway through the offer. Exposing yourself to law enforcement might’ve seemed too risky, but law enforcement potentially exposing you was even riskier. And you were no stranger to games of deception. Devising devious stratagems was one of the first skills you acquired.

You feigned indifference and replied, “Fine. I’ll play make-believe with the boy with a death wish.”

Yuta failed to resist his snicker this time, but it was true. Bloodlust gained its name for a special reason. For over a decade they had climbed their way to the top and were successful because they had no mercy for those that crossed them. You had faith that this was going to end with Mark having a bullet put through his brain.

After all, he wouldn’t be the first. Just another casualty.

Ten smiled, satisfied. His smile was alluring though likely deceptive, although you expected nothing less from the head of Bloodlust’s criminal agents himself. You had a feeling he was the one that suggested cornering you. “Good. You’re probably already aware that I administrate the spy squad. You won’t be working for me per se, but Jaemin and I will serve as your resources.”

Jaemin was another high-rank, the hacker and leader of their general technology team. If you ever thought you had hid a file or record from him; think again. In all your years of working for Yuta, you had never even caught a glimpse of the man’s face in person. He could only be spotted somewhere with a signal yet caved away.

You left that room with a mission. Jaemin had ID’d Mark’s partner and sent you a full report on them. Lee Minhyung, twenty-three, one of the youngest in his division and yet one of the most accomplished. He had spent merely three months undercover to overthrow a drug empire, and now he was scouting the big shots. Lee Jeno, twenty-two, and fresh out of the training program. There wasn’t much on him, obviously, but according to his evaluations, he had ambitions and was following in Mark’s footsteps.

Frankly, you were impressed. The reason neither of them had been detected until now was because they signed up the rightful way. No one suspected anything was amiss because their department created fake ID’s and hid their authentic ones. Nothing that Jaemin couldn’t find, though.

Needless to say, you had your work cut out for you.

The next time you saw Mark Lee was at another street race event. According to Jaemin, Mark and his partner were fresh recruits and had only been present for a few days at best, though he had quickly decided that the races were his favorite hunting grounds.

For a cop, Mark was remarkably easy to spot in a crowd, but he was playing the criminal role well enough. He had red hair that burned brightly and dressed the flashy part. You had yet to see him without a Cuban link.

You approached him and greeted, “‘Sup, Markie.”

Mark raised a brow. “Markie?”

“Do you not like it?” you asked, smiling innocently. You inched in on him, but left a safe distance between you two. The last thing you wanted was to make him uncomfortable by invading his personal space. “How about Marco? Or Markus? Even better - Little Red Riding Hood.”

Mark snickered. “Markie is fine. Thank you, Tony Stark,” he quipped.

“MCU fan?”

“You bet.”

He genuinely piqued your interest at that. Maybe pretending to like him wouldn’t be so hard. You breathed, “I love you already.”

He laughed. Then concern washed over his face. “Hey, your face okay?”

“Yup,” you replied, giving him a thumbs up. “I got it checked out like you said. Nothing broken or fractured. It’s a little sore, but I’ll be good as new in a couple days.”

“You’re a tough cookie,” he complimented.

You chortled. “So I’ve heard.”

With a broad smile, Mark continued, “That was one hell of a punch you landed on that dude, though. Knocked the guy flat on the ground. Where’d you learn how to fight like that?”

Here came the invasiveness. You decided to be as vague as possible about your past - and current - gang affiliations. You shrugged. “The streets. Polished my skills in the fighting ring, though.”

“There’s a fighting ring?”

“Oh, no wonder I’ve never seen you around these parts before. You’re a total newbie,” you laughed, shaking your head.

“It’s only my fourth day out here,” Mark told you. Which was the truth. You were very unsurprised to find he was taken under the drug trafficking operation, which was ran by Jisung. “Yo, I never caught your name.”

You gave Mark your name, although you had a feeling he already knew. Jaemin and Ten were actively working together to uncover everything the unit had on you and the gang.

“I can show you the ropes,” you offered. Given where he stood, you knew those words alone had him hooked on you. It was safe to assume the drug empire was his primary, but offering him the gang’s additional means of money-making on a silver platter would have any officer’s mouth watering. “Take you on a tour. The gang has plenty of places to kill time while simultaneously making hella cash off of them.”

Mark’s eyes gleamed with intrigue. “Smart business. I might just take you up on that.”

“Bloodlust is all about smart business,” you remarked. Then, you began to do some prying of your own. It wasn’t all that risky to give up some of their territory, but everything came with a price. “Say - who did Boss put you under?”

“The Jisung guy. Drugs.” Mark shrugged. “Nothing major. They don’t trust newbies directly with the hardcore shit, and for good reason. But he told me that it’ll pay well, and if I stick around long enough, I can work my way up.”

Of course, it paid very well. No matter how low-ranking the position. They were trafficking illegal drugs and substances. It was one of their most lucrative branches.

You also hadn’t failed to notice how Mark mentioned that if he stayed long enough, he could work his way higher. That was common knowledge, though you doubted he was unaware of how problematic leaving a gang was. He had the prior experience, and even on his last mission he didn’t vacate the syndicate until he successfully seized the ranks. In other words, he wasn’t withdrawing until he had shot the entire gang down by its very heart and core.

Which was the inner circle.

That was a pressing reminder to keep your guard up. Though Mark seemed likable, it was very intentional. You knew he wouldn’t hesitate to persecute you to the highest extent of the law and you would maintain that same lack of mercy.

You played along, bobbing your head. “Met the boss yet?”

Mark shot you a wince. “Not formally. And I’ve heard around that the less I see of Lee Taeyong, the better. What’s up with that?”

“Taeyong likes to deliver his messages up close and personal,” you cautioned. “He only comes out if absolutely necessary. Getting a personal message from the big boss only happens if you’re going around wreaking havoc.”

“No warning?”

You smiled, but the sinister undertone in your voice was very evident, “If he sends anyone else but himself, that is a warning.”

You didn’t feel pressured to make your insinuations very subtle, because you were Mark’s only hope. The gangsters weren’t exactly inviting. They were very cynical, tight-lipped, and kept small circles because another one of the most important rules was confidentiality and they dreaded facing exposure.

For the most part, people who received direct messages from Taeyong didn’t make it out alive. For that reason, you did not underestimate Mark, but you were certain he had underestimated the gang. Even if you hadn’t discovered him yourself, they would have in approximately the same amount of time.

Mark showed no fear and kept the conversation light-hearted, but the glimmer in his eyes suggested he took that as a challenge. “Then, I’ll make sure to be on my best behavior.”

Liar, you scoffed. He was very much going to wreak havoc. He already had.

“You better. I’d hate to see a face like yours gone so soon,” you flirted, to which Mark grinned and cocked an intrigued brow. He was handsome, you had to give him that. Then, you decided to change the topic. “You like cars, Markie?”

He pretended to frown. “Is it obvious?”

“As far as I know, you’ve spent at least half your nights at these races. There has to be a reason,” you said, then resorted back to flirting, “Unless, you just come to look at me all night.”

“You are quite the extravaganza,” Mark played along, matching your energy. Much to your amusement. “I’m more of a bike guy, but I like anything shiny and nice.”

“We’re gonna get along just fine,” you quipped. “Wanna race?”

“For real?”

“For real,” you repeated, smiling. “They start in a little bit. You strike me as the type of guy that likes all things thrill and exhilaration.”

Mark broke into a tiny snicker. “Lucky guess. You any good?”

You shrugged. “Dunno. Guess that’s for you to figure out,” you teased. Then, began to make your escape. Granted, you knew he wouldn’t let you slip away so easily.

Mark, tantalized, trailed behind you. Hopping in a speeding car with someone as good as a stranger seemed rash, but he had a feeling that you knew what you were doing. Absolutely none of this was foreign to you.

Boy with a death wish was an apt description for Mark.

Upon your last-minute entry, you took him to the garage to pick up your ride. To say the least, Mark nearly dropped dead. The sight of your bright red Bugatti Chiron positively made him gape. “Holy shit,” he exhaled.

You giggled. “She’s hot, isn’t she?”

“Like hellfire. Aren’t these like, hella expensive?”

You bobbed your head. “She’s hell to repair. But my baby deserves the best.”

Mark continued to marvel. “Dude, you gotta let me drive one day.”

You laughed, amused, but for a completely different reason. Like hell you would let a cop take your car for a spin. It was outrageous enough that you permitted him to take the passenger seat.

Eventually you both went to line up for the races. Mark was still completely astonished, glancing around your two-seater with total awe and wonder. If you knew that you didn’t have to kill him, you would have found it very cute.

Yuta came by and stuck his head through the window aperture. Which were each rolled down as a safety measure. “You’re racing?”

“Yup,” you sang, smiling wildly. It had been a minute. And you figured that you needed some thrill in your life (unbeknownst to you, Mark was exactly that). “Meet my partner. Mark, meet this guy.”

Yuta rolled his eyes, then droned, “You two have fun.”

“Oh, trust me. Fun is guaranteed with me,” you replied with a wink.

Yuta glanced at Mark and quipped, “Run while you still can.” Then, he ran off.

“You can’t run now,” you said, making eye contact with Mark through the rear-view mirror. “We have a race to win.”

Mark grinned mischievously.

The flagger came into vision, preparing to launch the first race of the evening. You and Mark fastened your seatbelts, then you braced your hand on the steering wheel.

“Ready?” you asked, glancing to your side.

Mark bobbed his head. He seemed relatively relaxed for a first-timer. Honestly, you were beginning to wonder what all he had done in the name of the law. “Born ready.”

You revved the engine, watching the flagger count down with bated breath. Everything felt light. Adrenaline made your blood pump faster, your heart threatening to leap out your chest. This was it. That feeling that made life worth living.

Three, you muttered under your breath. Two, one. You gripped the wheel tighter. Then every nerve in your body chanted, Go, go, go!

And you slammed on the gas, bolting the car forward like lightning.

You sped like the devil. You were going nearly two-hundred miles per hour in a matter of ten seconds. The car roared underneath your fingertips and you knew you were driving a beast, one that had risen from the dead.

“Goddamn,” Mark raised his voice, speaking over the vicious winds that tousled your heads of hair. He was smiling, clinging to his seatbelt for dear life.

You shouted, “Hang on!” And you both accelerated.

You laughed, so carefree. Nothing else mattered when you were on the road and you quickly lost grip of everything that wasn’t the steering wheel clenched firmly between your fist. The road was the only thing capable of holding your attention, and you even occasionally forgot that Mark was beside you until you heard his exhilarated laugh. Every single thought you had left as quickly as it came. Moments were exactly that - moments. No fears, no worries, no nightmares. Just making it across that sweet finish line.

The feeling surging through your veins was inexplicable, but you knew that you weren’t alone in it. Mark could feel it, too. The rush overpowered any sense of threat and adrenaline made you forget what it felt like to breathe. At that moment, it was like breathing on the moon. Almost as if you didn’t need any air.

You wedged past this car and that, until you had made a great distance in front of them all. They were left in the dust.

“You feel that, Markie?” you asked, chest heaving out of pure, unadulterated fever. You could see that typical untamed gleam in his eyes, but heightened.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. And then he began to crack into a fit of hysterical laughter himself. “Yeah. I can feel it.”

The corners of your lips were in an unfaltering curve. “Let’s win this damn thing.”

Mark was grinning from ear to ear. Never had he ever felt so alive.

The climax of the race was your very favorite. Time lost its meaning and speed became inexhaustible. Air became scarce, as if there was no more left on earth. The tension throttled you and swallowed you whole. And heat reduced you to sweat and fighting breaths.

All you had was momentum, but that was of little threat to you. And Mark.

The distance between the car and the finish line decreased more and more and more. There was practically no one around you, but that didn’t ease your resolve. Resting was not an option until victory was yours.

Mark chanted, “Come on, come on.”

He wanted it as badly as you. If not more. There was nothing for him to gain out of this except experience and yet he seemed immensely content with that.

From the moment you crossed the finish line, time became a blur. All you knew was that you had won and you could feel the achievement in your veins. You only noticed that you were panting when you stepped out of the car, and the crowd flocked towards your vehicle.

“So, what do you think?” you asked Mark, sitting on the hood of your car. “Am I any good, Markie?”

Mark wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, then replied through thick breath, “I think you just gave me the time of my life. Thank you.”

You chortled. Damn right. “The pleasure is all mine.”

Someone cleared their throat and you turned to make eye contact with Lee Jeno. He looked directly at you without hiding his scorn when he spoke, “Sorry to interrupt, but Markie has to go now.”

You didn’t break eye contact with the boy, either, retorting, “Tell your dad that you don’t wanna go, Mark.”

Mark stifled a laugh. “I’m sorry, but I have to,” he said and hopped off the hood of your car. “Thank you for tonight, though. I’m holding you to your word from earlier.”

“I’ve never broken a promise,” you said. Then, you waved. “See’ya.”

Mark hugged you briefly, then bid you goodnight and faded in the crowd with his more than obvious partner.

And you went to pay yours a visit.

Given the hour, Ten was not pleased when you barged into his office, but before he could run his mouth, you shushed him with your finger.

Ten mouthed, “Did you just shush me…”

You removed an object out of your pocket and rested the item flat on his desk. It was a tiny, black wiretapping device. Clearly, somebody thought he was slick, though even in your fit of ecstasy, you were not off-guard.

From the expression he sported, Ten was highly amused by the flagrant audacity of this boy. There seemed to be a telepathic communication between you two, but just to be safe, he mouthed, “Play along.”

Ten said your name and began, “You’re late. Did you hear the news?”

You almost rolled your eyes, but very audibly pulled in the opposing chair to give the impression that you were here for a long, scheduled conversation. Then, you blew out a sigh and replied, “Yeah. Yuta told me Taeyong is considering shifting the gang to China. Damn feds too close on our tail.”

“Don’t fret. It’ll be a walk in the park. China makes up our secondary income - the ascendancy we have there is enough to start fresh.”

The little tale made you smirk. Bloodlust hadn’t branched out in China very much yet.

“I know, but Korea is the only home I’ve known,” you groaned.

Ten was very good at playing along with your bullshit and told you, “That was how I felt when I came to Korea from the States. Listen, you’re gonna be homesick as a bitch. But you won’t be alone and that’s what matters.”

If this was a genuine conversation, you would have been touched. “Thanks, Ten.”

Ten drummed his fist against the wall to mimic the sound of someone knocking on a door, then rose and said, “That must be him. Come on.”

The two of you stepped into the corridor. Where, obviously enough, nobody awaited either of you. Ten shut the door and moved a great distance away from his office before he decided you were both in the clear.

As soon as you were in private, both of you began to giggle. Ten quipped, “Sure you don’t wanna work for me?”

You snickered. “I’m more than content with Yuta, thank you.”

“I have to commend you for your performance back there,” Ten told you, sincere. “Most people wouldn’t have even caught that they were bugged. That could’ve been bad. It’s impressive.”

“Likewise,” you replied. It was in your best interest to steer Mark’s team off course, if possible. They’d learn one way or another to mind the business that paid them.

Ten grabbed a tiny stick-like item from his pocket and pressed a red button at the bottom end of the device.

You furrowed your brows. “What’s that?”

“Bug detector. Jaemin made it for me,” he told you. Then, a red light beamed from the device, and Ten scanned you from head to toe. After a brief moment, he said, “You’re in the clear. I’ll take care of the bug. Did you learn anything else tonight?”

You nodded. “He knows Taeyong is the leader. I let him ask most of the questions tonight, but I’ll have my turn later. I’m posing as a friend that’s going to show him around.”

“Take him where you want.” Ten glanced at his watch. “I expect more from you by the end of the week.”

“Yes, sir,” you replied. Obviously, he had somewhere to be. “Goodnight.”

Throughout the week, you and Ten continued to use the wiretapping bug to your advantage. Faking conversations, making up false plans about the future of the gang. It was, more or less, a taunt.

Just as Ten expected of you, you had additional information to deliver by Saturday morning. Mark was no easy task, but where his partner was concerned, you learned things easily. For one, most of your identities were definitely known. Jeno was not sparing with his disdainful glares whenever he came across high-ranks.

Much less you, for that matter. Which made you wonder exactly what role you played in this situation, but that was still inconclusive. You assumed it was because you had direct ties to the second-in-command, but you merely did his bidding. Which had nothing to do with the trafficking of illegal drugs.

And Yuta never let you in on the affairs of the gang. It simply never came up. It was none of your business and you didn’t care. As long as they protected you.

Either they had no clue what they were doing, or they were looking to make a very big bust.

The following Monday, you marched straight into housing clad in dolphin shorts and a white t-shirt and knocked on Mark’s door. Very relentlessly given it was two in the morning.

Mark yelled, “I’m coming!” from somewhere across the apartment. When he opened the door, he squinted, half-awake. But positive that he was dreaming. “How the hell…”

You snickered. “You aren’t very hard to find, Markie. This is where the newbies that don’t have their own place live - I would know. Boss gave me access to the housing info.”

“Stalker,” he snarled insincerely, voice husky. It did something to you, but you would never admit it.

Instead, you rolled your eyes. It was very ironic, all things considered. He was going out of his way to investigate you and your boss’ friends. “Yeah, yeah,” you said, inviting yourself in. “Hurry up and get ready. We’re going to the ring.”

Mark’s eyes widened. “Shit, right now?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Shit. Let me go brush my teeth and change.”

Glancing around the apartment, there was nothing immediately suspicious or out of the ordinary. Just slightly messy. It looked very lived in.

Less than fifteen minutes later, you and Mark were out the door and on the road. The late night and early morning breeze was very comforting. Just traveling lightly on the road while the sun was still down was one of your favorite things to do.

Mark spoke teasingly over the radio, “Do you barge into people’s houses and homes to go fight very often?”

Unabashedly, you giggled. “No, actually. But I am very notorious for walking around like I own the place. You’re lucky enough that I had no choice but to knock.”

“You mean, beat the door in.”

“Did not,” you countered.

“No, you did,” he said. “You probably woke up everybody else on the same floor.”

You smarted and retorted, “Please. They should come watch me kick your ass.”

Mark was very amused by your confidence. “I’m gonna make you eat those words, doll.”

“Hit me with your best shot.”

He took the challenge. “Loser buys breakfast?”

You grinned smugly. “You’re on.”

The road led you to some bar with an enormous flickering neon light that displayed the name of the establishment. Despite the late hour - and how shady the exterior of the building appeared - the parking lot wasn’t empty.

With your finger, you signaled for Mark to follow behind you and entered the bar. Much to Mark’s surprise, your attire fitted right in with the lack of crowd. Most were sweaty and gulping glasses of water at the bar.

Mark cocked a brow and said, “I thought we were going to the ring.”

“We are,” you responded, fighting a smile. The bartender didn’t spare either of you a glimpse when you led him behind the counter and through the double doors.

You were met with a tiny hallway. There was a kitchen door on one end, but you brought him towards the other. It seemed much more exclusive than the others, no double doors or easy access. You placed your finger on the biometric lock and it clicked open.

“Woah,” Mark gasped.

You giggled and went into the empty room with a ring in its center. In contrast to the others, it was dimly lit by beams of neon red lights. There was another bar at one end and chairs and tables arranged elsewhere. “The private fighting room,” you announced. “It’s only used by higher-ups and their associates.”

“I just thought of at least eight Fight Club jokes I could make right now and half of them have something to do with Tyler Durden.”

You shook your head. “You’re insufferable. You’d lose your mind if we owned a movie theater.”

Mark smiled bashfully. “Can I talk about this place?”

You glared. But ultimately couldn’t resist bursting into laughter.

“Come on,” you gestured, stepping inside the ring. And he followed suit.

After you both warmed up, you asked, “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Mark replied without hesitation, eyes burning with sheer confidence. “Gotta warn you, though - I have a blackbelt in taekwondo.”

He wasn’t lying. You remembered seeing something like that in his profile.

“Good for you. I have a blackbelt in kicking Mark Lee’s ass.”

Mark taunted, “I would like to see you try.”

You got into position, holding your arms in a prepared stance. “Don’t go easy on me, Markie. If you couldn’t tell, I like things rough.”

As usual, Mark merely gave you a grin of unadulterated mischief.

The first round played in your favor. It ran more like a practice round if anything - Mark was more focused on becoming accustomed with how you fought than winning. As a result, you knocked him clean out.

Though Mark decided in the next round that he wasn’t playing any games. He had taken mercy upon you before, going easy on you in spite of what you told him, but you knew by now that Mark had a penchant for challenges and loathed losing. You thought that you had him right where you wanted him, but by the end of the match, he had you right where he wanted you.

“I was wrong about you, Markie,” you gasped after tapping out and accepting defeat. “You striked me as a Mama’s boy. The ‘I’d never hit a girl’ type.”

“I love my mama,” Mark grinned. “And of course, I’d never. But you asked for it.”

Mark helped you to your feet and you lightheartedly threatened, “I’m snitching.”

“Whatever you say,” he taunted. “I see why they call you Scar and not Punch.”

In a flash of anger, you lunged at him, but Mark caught you by your wrist promptly. He cocked his head and said smugly, “Cheater. The final round hasn’t started yet.”

The way he stared down your soul unnerved you. It wasn’t typical of you to show fear - and you didn’t - but saying that you were unaffected by his every move would be a blatant lie. Though there was absolutely nothing sinister about Mark. Maybe it wasn’t him that you were scared of. Maybe it was how he made you feel.

That was more dangerous than any threat.

When the next round initiated, you fought like a beast that had emerged right out of hell. There was no way in hell that you would go down without a fight.

This final round was all the more intense. You were convinced that if you had any spectators, they’d be completely exasperated by the suspense. The both of you kept bouncing shy of one another.

It was akin to a seesaw of action. When Mark landed a hit, you landed one harder. When you were above, suddenly Mark knocked you back down again.

“This isn’t over until one of us taps out,” Mark said.

You shrugged. “I can go all night.”

“So can I.”

Neither of you were backing down, that much was clear. It seemed preposterous - getting worked up over an unofficial game - but you were competitive and Mark was ambitious. The most minuscule of things were still another bridge to be crossed to people like you, no matter the size.

You either won or you lost. It was one to one. This was the tiebreaker; the round that made or broke the game. You didn’t mind buying him breakfast, but there was also a part of Mark that was so goddamn insufferable and you would rather not satisfy that insatiable desire of his.

“If you want your victory, come and get it,” you taunted.

“Say less,” Mark said. Then swung.

Courtesy of your agility, you were able to move out of the way. It was better than giving him the opportunity to lay his hands on you, even if you blocked the hit. You learned very quickly that Mark could make you think he was doing one thing and wound up doing another.

You took your chances, not permitting him the chance to realize what you were up to before you danced around his figure and tackled him to the ground.

You straddled him and smirked, pinning his arms firmly above his head. You were very aware of what kind of position you were in, but you weren’t complaining. It felt like you were at your throne at the very top of the world from above Mark.

Mark eyed you down. “Someone’s been doing her homework.”

You clutched even tighter around his wrist the more he spoke. To which Mark grimaced and quipped, “Are you trying to crush my bones or jump them?”

You teased, “Is that what you were dreaming about before I woke you up, Markie?”

“Not quite,” he replied with a chuckle, then switched on a dime. He flipped you over, hovering over you as you lay flat on your back. Instead of pinning your hands above your head like you’d done to him, he went for your throat.

His grip was strong. It wasn’t tight enough to cause you any genuine harm, as if he didn’t intend to hurt you, but you felt as if he could have bruised your throat.

The worst part? You didn’t thoroughly despise the feeling.

Mark leaned directly into your ear, then growled, “Tap out and I’ll let go.”

Resisting, you brought your fingers to his arm, though you swore his grip became firmer the longer you stood your ground. Mark merely stared into your eyes as you began to gasp for air, holding onto breath for dear life.

The way he looked into them, it was almost as if he was searching for something. You supposed Mark wallowed in the look of vulnerability in your eyes, or the life leaving them, but it couldn’t have been as prominent as the bliss etched onto your face. “You’re enjoying this,” he remarked, showing even less mercy with his palms.

When you were on the verge of unconsciousness, you tapped Mark’s arm with your fingers. And only then did his grip loosen.

Mark shook his head when you began to laugh. “You’re fucking crazy.”

Chest heaving, you replied, “I’ve heard that one before. Try harder.”

“You’re a fucking minx,” Mark taunted, voice dropping another octave. “But you know that too - don’t you?”

A provocative smile crept across your face. “I swear I don’t do it on purpose, Markie.”

There was a whirlwind of thoughts rippling around your brain as Mark leaned dangerously close to you. Heat flared through your body in place of your typical cold blood. You seemed to internally debate yourself, but it wasn’t as if you ever had very much of a conscience.

“Do it, Mark. Do it,” you chanted. From the pensive expression he sported, you were confident that half the thoughts in his head were temptingly screaming the same thing.

Mark steered out of his tiny reverie and began, “That guy - Yuta. He’s not your boyfriend?”

You burst into laughter that was on the brink of hysterical. “You’re kidding,” you said. But when Mark showed you no sign of toying, instead stern, you added, “Please. I love Yuta and I’m forever indebted to him, but I’d rather choke on my own blood than date him.”

That was all Mark needed to hear. “Say less.”

In the time that it took for him to close the tiny gap between the two of you, the last of Mark’s reluctance met its end. His mouth crashed against yours in haste, and you moved in a heated sync, swallowing each other’s tongues.

The taste of him drowned out the rest of the world. You forgot that Mark was a predator and you were his prey. You forgot that you were supposed to hunt him down. Each of your limbs tensed tautly with want and your will for pleasure made light work of your senses. You were enthralled by how well of a kisser he was.

Someone you used to know once told you that sex was a tool, love was a poison; combining the two was a one-way ticket to death. All of which slipped your mind completely as you involuntarily began to rasp your hips against his.

Mark grunted so lowly that you were at the brink of succumbing to insanity right then and there.

It was like Mark existed solely to tease the living hell out of you. Being a thorn in your side was what he thrived on. He kept slithering his hand up your thigh, just shy of where you needed him, and you did not miss the smug little grin on his face when you groaned in complaint.

You pulled away from his lips and warned, “Don’t tease me.”

Predictably, Mark was not alarmed. Your threats were of little substance to him. “Dunno, doll. It’s kinda fun to watch you get all worked up.”

Deciding to take matters into your own hands, you grabbed Mark’s wrist and slipped it down your shorts. You made a tiny noise when his fingers brushed over your clothed cunt, then purred, “Feel that, baby? Could be all yours if you stopped playing games.”

And with that, Mark was sold.

The both of you ran suspiciously out of the bar. You willed yourselves not to touch each other in front of anyone’s prying eyes, but the way you rushed out said enough.

You decided on going to Mark’s place. There was nothing to hide at yours because you refused to bring work home with you, but your address was sensitive information. Sleeping with someone never prevented them from betraying you and nor did it invoke an unbendable bond to be broken in the first place.

But the moment you stepped inside Mark’s apartment, it was game over. You couldn’t stay away from one another, stumbling over his belongings as you made out while stripping along the way to his bedroom and leaving a trail of clothes in your wake.

You wondered exactly how long this desire had been pent up. Maybe you suppressed it out of priority for your jobs, but it had expanded into something unignorable now. The tiny sparks became a full-fledged forest fire.

Mark pushed your naked figure against his mattress and gave your now-naked body a once-over. “I never realized how many tattoos you have,” he rasped.

There was also a huge scar on your stomach. He had caught glimpses of it during your fight, but the full sight made him curious. Alas, now wasn’t the time to ask questions.

“Mm,” you hummed, stifling a giggle. “If you do a good enough job, I might tell you the stories behind them.”

“Then, I hope you’re ready to talk,” he said confidently.

You arched a brow. “You talk a big game, but aren’t showing me what you’re made of.”

Mark gripped your thighs apart and at the sight of your dripping cunt, he growled, “Just watch. You’re going to be a mess by the time I’m done with you.”

Before you could offer another retort, Mark pushed his head between your legs and began to have at it.

A little sigh eased past your throat when you felt his tongue lap at your folds. His mouth was warm against the flesh, heat spreading in waves throughout your body and core. You willed yourself to keep your reactions to a minimum, not wanting to give Mark the satisfaction of seeing you at your very worst.

Eyeing him from the bed, you basked in the sight of him devouring you like a five-star meal. Your arms were propped by his pillows very comfortably. You watched him swallow you whole, his veins becoming taut as his grip on your upper legs became ruthless and his wavy red hair tickled your plush thighs.

You were in heaven, needlessly to say. Mark sucked at you without a shred of mercy. No matter how much you liked a boy, you never tended to keep your expectations as high as your standards when it came to bedroom performance and going down on you, but Mark was full of surprises. True to his word, you were somewhat certain that at this rate, you would be a mess by the time that he was finished with you.

“Fuck,” you mewled when he started to lick and suck at your clit.

Mark smirked against your folds. He was going to be the death of you.

Each of your attempts to remain quiet were defiled by your more than loud moans, though you couldn’t bring yourself to be bothered. It was as if Mark knew exactly how to push your buttons (and which buttons to press).

Meanwhile, Mark’s mind was ablaze with thoughts of you. The sight of your body would be indefinitely etched behind his eyelids. Your intricate tattoos that told various tales across your perfect skin, and your plush thighs that tensed whenever he brushed your clit.

You could feel your pulse throbbing in your core. Your thighs trembled, your hips involuntarily moving against Mark’s mouth to derive as much pleasure as possible. It seemed desperate, but you were reduced to fire and bones in no time at all. All you knew how to do was ravage everything in your course to feed your flame. And Mark was hellbent on ravaging you.

You clutched Mark’s hair and cried out, “Mark.”

He seemed to rejoice in how utterly responsive and reactive you’d become, unable to defy your body’s demanding urges. It was impossible. And your reactions only fed him, spurring him on to milk you completely dry.

You swore you felt nothing but sheer thrill. It was comparable to the high you received from racing. The way nothing else mattered, and all your focus was so centered on one particular thing that you couldn’t think of anything else. You were enticed by danger and entrusting Mark with power over your body was a great enough threat.

Mark was way too attracted to everything about you. Tasting you and watching you lose your grip of control on his tongue only amplified that allure with the addition of arousal. To hell with his job if it meant that he could spend one more moment with you in his mouth.

Maybe he was attracted to danger, too. You and danger tended to go hand in hand, but so did danger and his lifestyle. There was a reason why he wasn’t afraid of you.

“Just like that, baby. Oh my god,” you moaned, angling your head back. For the sake of your pride, you tried to desperately cling to whatever remained of your sanity, but Mark was resolved on unraveling you.

Your sounds became louder and Mark discerned that you were on the verge of release. If you hadn’t awakened his neighbors when you gave his door hell earlier, they were certainly now contemplating filing noise complaints.

Mark separated himself from you ever so briefly and growled, “Come on, doll. Do it for me.”

The little pet name never invoked much thought from you. You assumed he wanted compensation for the nickname you’d dropped on him, and thus let it slide. But in that moment, it made you weak - and you loathed pet names.

This was going to bring it home. Every nerve in your body was tense and uptight. Your fingers and toes tingled with the threat of release, heat spasming in your core and the palms of your hands.

You climaxed in a fit of unadulterated pleasure, tightening your grip on Mark’s red locks and convulsing by reflex. You practically curled in on yourself, every bit of you clenching emptily as fervor shot through your body. Mark didn’t grant you the mercy of letting you ease through your climax, unrelenting as he continued to suck and lick at your pussy ruthlessly.

Mark brought you to a second orgasm in half the amount of time it took to achieve the first one, and only then did he crawl away and let you breathe. You heaved shallow breaths, blinking through the rise and fall of your chest. Never had you felt anything so intensely. You were milked completely dry.

Mark didn’t comment, but his words were heavy through the signature glimmer in his eyes. And smile tugging the corners of his lips. “So, am I getting that bedtime story?”

You replied through heavy breaths, “Take your pick.”

He snickered.

Mark licked his lips and thus your arousal from his mouth. You shot up and straddled him, wasting little time in sucking at his neck. Mark shook his head. “Jesus, woman. Do you rest?”

Stifling a laugh, you purred, “I regenerate quickly.”

That didn’t surprise Mark in the slightest. He could have guessed. “Good to know.”

Pressing kisses to his neck, you began to rock against his hips, feeling his hard cock through the confines of his underwear. You anchored yourself on his shoulders and teased, “Shouldn’t we do something about this problem of yours?”

Mark angled his head back. “Fuck, yeah,” he groaned.

You pushed his chest down in a successful attempt to knock him backwards and his back met the mattress. But the kisses never ended, and you found it nearly impossible to tear yourself from his skin. Until you felt him involuntarily thrust against your hips, needy.

“Patience,” you sang. Granted, you didn’t have much of your own, either. The way he brought you to another world and back only moments ago had you desperate to recreate the feeling.

You lifted your purse off of the nightstand not too out of reach from you and retrieved a condom. For good reason, you figured Mark wouldn’t have any.

Mark cocked a brow. “You keep those on you?”

Of course, you did. You preferred to be safe over sorry. Not to mention that your hookup who shall not be named tended to forget them. Deliberately. You subconsciously smirked. “Mind the business that pays you,” you murmured, dragging his underwear down his ankles. And fitting the condom over the head of his cock.

You and Mark let out a simultaneous noise of bliss as you rolled onto him. His hands found purchase at your hips while yours pressed featherly against his stomach. You took him inch by inch, leisurely making your way down as your cunt opted to easily swallow him whole.

Mark nearly lost his mind being engulfed by your heat. His fingertips dug almost painfully into your waist for mental anchor, supporting himself with all his might. For goodness sake, you were so tight. It didn’t help that you still leaked with arousal from your previous two orgasms, even more sensitive from them. The moment you were snug around his cock, he felt you clench.

“Mm, Mark,” you moaned, rocking against him at your own pace. You took the lead, following your own rhythm and Mark didn’t have it in him to stop you. Hell, not that he wanted to.

This was, for lack of a better word, a very bad idea. But neither of you seemed to care. It felt forbidden - doing as much as even thinking about each other so lecherously, but that was half the fun. Neither of you could restrain the lascivious thoughts that ran rampant through your minds when you caught a glimpse of your naked bodies or heard a lewd noise.

The other half, of course, was the actual fucking.

And when Mark heard you call out his name, it took all his willpower to not finish himself right then and there. Not Markie - Mark. He steered dangerously close to release at the mere sound of your honey-like voice.

Mark found it in himself to tease, “Enjoying yourself up there?”

“Like a queen on her throne,” you retorted.

He certainly made you feel like royalty, that was for sure. You felt worshiped by his tongue. Now, you were at reign over his body. And all Mark could do was lie there and behold you as if you were a royal immortal deity.

There was a moment that passed where he considered throwing it all away for you without a second thought. You were a lethal weapon of temptation; that Mark knew, yet he was disposed to capitulate to you. As if you’d lulled him into a fatal trance with the very grace of your body alone.

Though your every move was unpredictable, Mark didn’t know what to expect when you leaned closely to his neck. But it certainly wasn’t for you to bite at the skin. He let out an embarrassing whine at the feeling of your teeth leaving marks and tiny remnants of you on his throat.

You arched a brow. Then, teased, “Whine for me again, Mark.”

“Shut up,” he grumbled.

Your lips brushed ever so gently against his and you tauntingly whispered, “Make. Me.”

As aforementioned, Mark was comprised of surprises. His hands rose from your waist to your bouncing tits and he thrusted up, achieving a whimper of surprise from you.

He smirked at the way your face tensed with pleasure and your fingers grasped his biceps for dear life. “Holy fuck,” you cried, clinging to him as if you’d sink into the pits of the earth otherwise. He kept fucking you from below, watching you intently as he admired his handiwork with complacency.

He sneered, “Whine for me again, doll.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you hissed.

Mark snickered. Now where had he heard that before?

The softest of moans parted your lips as Mark fondled with your breast and his hands eventually rose, fingers clawing around your throat. He missed seeing that look in your eyes. The one of air depleting itself from your lungs and the blood circulation ceasing to flow and the pleasure sparkling a tiny gleam.

You satisfied his urges, face blanching the longer he held his grip. And the tighter. Mark very much could have done as he pleased with you, but you knew he’d never let this go too far. Just enough to have you at the verge of blacking out.

Although you were remotely dizzy when he released you from his clutch, you liked it. You never quite noticed it before, but there was a fiery gleam in Mark’s eyes when he choked you. Something sinister. There was an animal in him that had gone dormant for far too long and you’d finally aroused the beast.

And you were the only one to date that had seen it and didn’t flee.

The two of you were dangerously close to climax. With how close in proximity your bodies were - combined by every thrust and grind - there was no way on earth either of you couldn’t tell. You began to rasp your hips against his cock in a vigorously synchronized motion, desperate for the heat of the friction that made you tingle. Piece by piece, you were breaking into rupture.

Mark was no better. Just looking at you had him dangling over the edge. Dangerously. It would only take one little slip before he fell depthlessly into a pit of you that seemingly had no top and no bottom. Just you, only you.

“Let go for me, doll,” Mark ordered softly, trying to coax you into an orgasm. “You’ve been doing so good for me.”

His mouth and hands knew no boundaries when it came to your body. They roamed you, his tongue slithering around your nipple and his hands roughly finding purchase on your ass. You were also very sensitive in areas where your tattoos lived, he learned, and used that knowledge to his advantage. Mark was single-handedly going to destroy you.

“Let go,” he sang again, gentle and tempting.

You began to tighten around him involuntarily. It was coming. “I’m…”

Mark held you firmly. “Cum for me, baby. I’ve got you.”

You saw stars when you came for the third time, orgasm hitting you in full force. It was nothing short of intense. You clamped around Mark, walls tight around him as well as your grip on his biceps. Your thighs shuddered with climax, and a shrill cry erupted from your lips.

Mark grunted, “Fuck.” The feeling of you pulsing around him undoubtedly sent him down a similar fate. His hands fell to your hips and held them to the point of bruising.

After you rode out the rest of your high, you slacked. You lied against his warm chest, feeling him breathe rapidly as you desperately clung to your own breath.

“Do you feel okay?”

“I feel great,” you heaved. “Do you wanna stop?”

Mark faintly smiled at how much endurance you had. “Nope.”

You rode Mark until sunrise.

When both of you roused again, the clock had already ticked past noon. You made room for another, much lazier round, and settled for brunch instead of breakfast.

Then you split and went your own separate ways. You waltzed straight into Bloodlust’s headquarters. Given you were channeling all of your focus into this Mark mission, your schedule was indefinitely clear of all else. Which left you with leeway to choose someone to vex.

You stepped into Yuta’s office without knocking, yet before you could get a word out, he barked, “Did you come here to tell me that you’re sleeping with the enemy?”

Blinking, you resisted a frown. And said nonchalantly, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Lying to a high-rank. Wrong move. And also impossible to get away with.

Yuta shook his head, scowling. “Jisung said that he saw you both running out of The Lion’s Den. Disorderly. And something told him it wasn’t because of a fight.”

Park Jisung, when I get my hands on you, you bristled inwardly. You never did get along with that boy. On more than one occasion, you had to be separated so that you wouldn’t kill each other.

You rolled your eyes and sat across from your boss. With light humor, you replied, “Please. If anything, I have Mark right where I want him.”

“Don’t walk into a trap,” Yuta warned.

Traps were laid by people like you, not the opposite. You were many things and stupid was not one of them. Just another casualty, you told yourself. That’s all Mark was. You refused to allow him to become anything more. “If you’re done, I have something. Mark thought that I was your girlfriend - what if that’s the connection? He’s using me to get to you.”

“That’s possible,” Yuta sobered. “But he would have to know that you wouldn’t snitch on your lover. I’d kill both you and him with my bare hands.”

“Terrifying,” you deadpanned. “Has Ten or Jaemin been able to get in?”

Yuta gave a shake of his head and drawled, “Nope. They’ve got that unit on lock. Apparently drugs are super sensitive information.”

Blowing out a breath, you turned pensive. They were hiding something, obviously. You were half-tempted to march up to Mark and demand he tell you everything he knew, but it was too risky of a move. Though it wasn’t like he had gotten many leads through you, and there had to be something keeping him joined at your hip.

But what?

At first, you considered that maybe you’d given away more than you realized, yet nothing you told him was incriminating enough to arrest anyone with a drug trafficking charge. Hell, if that was the case, Jisung would have led you all to demise already.

“I can hear your gears turning. Stop thinking,” Yuta quipped, steering you out of your reverie. He could never stay mad at you - or serious - for very long. “Listen, babe. Just keep him at bay. If we make no progress, we’ll bring out the extremes. Everything will be perfectly fine.”

You nodded. “Perfectly fine,” you repeated.

Everything was not perfectly fline.

During the past couple of weeks, things had taken a sharp turn between you and Mark. You intended to leave him for dead after that first hookup, yet the more time you spent together, the more each of you burned with lust.

And so it happened again. And again. And you lost track of how many times you’d slipped away to fuck Mark and suck on his tongue.

Of course, the quality of the sex never declined. You were both pleased and enraged at the fact that Mark had range. Every time you both hooked up, the only thing that stayed consistent was the want that shot through your core. For fuck’s sake, he just had to be a man of variety.

In a nutshell, you were completely fucked.

There was an event at the gang’s casino and you snagged Mark as your date. As if anyone else would risk it. You were the only one crazy enough to personally involve yourself with a cop.

Which, you tried to erase from your memory. There would come a day where he’d try to send you away in cuffs. And you’d have to kill him before he got the chance.

You shivered at the thought.

“You clean up nice,” you commented when you came to pick him up.

Mark was dressed very pleasantly. The red hair was a stark contrast to the fancy black suit and trousers he sported, though given the semi formal occasion, he abandoned the frivolous style and opted for a neater hairdo. You were approximately three seconds away from forgetting about the goddamn casino altogether.

Similarly, you wore a red gown that flowed down your legs, hair styled elegantly and your face beat. Casinos were very much not your scene, and underneath the dress you kept an armed and poised gun resting ungrudgingly inside of the leather holster at your thigh.

“Thank you, m’lady. You’re very beautiful,” Mark replied, taking hold of your fingers and kissing the back of your hand gently.

You grinned. Then began to snicker when you noticed your heels gave you a couple more inches of height on him.

Mark cocked a brow. “What’cha laughing at?”

“Oh, nothing.”

Obviously, Mark didn’t believe you in the slightest. Though he said nothing, instead leading you to the elevator. “I’m driving,” he told you, leaving absolutely no room for argument.

You furrowed your brows when you saw your keys in his palm. “When the hell did you get those?”

Mark grinned smugly and jiggled the keys. “You should pay more attention.”

You were absolutely affronted. There was no way in hell Mark Lee had caught you off-guard. You folded your arms across your chest and Mark snickered, then pressed a little kiss to your neck to placate you.

As you slipped out of the elevator and into the lobby, you quipped, “Make sure to drive the speed limit and not the speedometer limit.”

Mark opened the door for you, yet retaliated, “You’d know a lot about driving over the speed limit, wouldn’t you?”

“Shush,” you mumbled, fighting a smile.

“I believe the correct answer is ‘Thank you, gentleman.’”

You hardly leaned off of your heels when you swayed towards Mark, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips and purring, “Thank you, gentleman.”

Mark clamped his arm around your waist and said, “Much better.”

There was a grand casino connected to the hotel that the gang owned. They never invested in anything unprofitable. The building was sky-scraping and vivid in the dimming indigo night, its gold exterior oriented to attract the attention of men and women of means. Courtesy of the supplementing hotel, it had valet parking.

As expected, the sight was nothing short of breathtaking. A large glimmering chandelier hung at the front entrance. There were even tinier ones the further you voyaged across the long red carpet, hanging on the sunken ceiling. You were surrounded by tall pillars and arrays of staircases and even the air felt different inside the casino. It was more or less a very marvelous labyrinth of money.

Mark whistled. “Snazzy. You know what this reminds me of?”

“What?”

“Vegas, baby. Vegas!”

You narrowed your eyes. You didn’t want to know what his Letterboxd account looked like. Or introduce him to one, for that matter. Leaning into his chest, you asked, “Ever been?”

“Once. It’s very beautiful.” Just like you, he was tempted to add, but he didn’t want to come off cheesy. “I should take you there one day.”

Mark was a little too good at toying with your heart for your liking. Both of you knew very well that a future with you together did not exist.

And yet your mind blinked with images of you and Mark in Las Vegas. Him showing you around the sin city. Wandering the streets in each other’s arms, laughing and marveling at its beauty with heartfelt awe. You saw his dumb face and his stupid smile and knew that you were over.

After a bit of walking, the two of you finally found yourselves amongst the rest of the gang. The occasion was nothing special; for the most part, they were discussing deals with other groups and further things you didn’t get paid enough to be concerned about. You saw Qian Kun and knew to make a run for it. He saw everything from a business perspective, which was great for the gang - and your paycheck - but agonizingly boring.

And then, you ran into Park Jisung and instantly knew that you should have stayed home.

Sternly, you greeted, “Jisung.”

“You,” Jisung icily greeted, less than pleased to see you.

“I have a name, you know,” you reminded with a scowl.

Jisung didn’t hesitate and shot, “And I’d rather not stain my tongue by saying it.”

“You son of a…”

Mark growled in your ear, “Behave.”

Jisung raised his brow when you switched on a dime and rather quickly composed yourself. Where was this guy when he was having a heated quarrel with you for the umpteenth time? Shutting you up on command? He doubted even Yuta had that kind of power over you.

Worst of all, he didn’t know if that was a blessing or a curse.

“I have to speak with her,” Jisung said, refusing to say your name. Then added, “Alone.”

Mark angled towards you. “Will you be okay?”

Absolutely not. The last time you had a one on one conversation with Jisung, one of you nearly died. It was certainly not a great idea to leave you alone together.

But something told you to nod.

Mark, skeptical, pressed, “You’re going to be good, right?”

“Very classy,” you retorted, despite wanting to be literally anywhere else. You hoped whatever Jisung had to say was of significant value. For him to willingly speak to you, it had to be life-threatening. “I’m going to have a civil conversation with my peer like the two adults that we are.”

“Okay,” Mark replied with scrunched brows, still hesitant. “I’ll be over there with Jeno.”

Throwing both you and your less than lovely coworker another glance, Mark parted and left you to fend for yourself.

As soon as Mark was a safe distance away, Jisung immediately said, “I wouldn’t trust him if I were you.”

Your face immediately puzzled. “What makes you think I trust him?”

Jisung laughed in your face. “Are you for real? For one, you’re fucking. Don’t deny it because I saw you running out of The Lion’s Den, and I know what people who eagerly want to fuck each other look like. I see the way you look at him.”

“Are you worried about me, Jisung?” you quipped. You refused to pay any heed to what he was insinuating. Let alone accept it.

Jisung scoffed, “No. I’m worried about you jeopardizing the future of this gang.”

“That’s rich,” you said, crossing your arms. And trying to identify the cleanest way to insult him. “It wouldn’t be a singlehanded error. You’re literally incriminating us by having him under the drug branch in the first place. You guys let two cops in and didn’t even notice. The only words I should be hearing from you are ‘thank you.’”

“Stop. You’re deflecting, as usual,” he sighed. “Just like the brat mouth you are.”

Instead of giving him a seething response, you gritted your teeth. And bit your tongue. Literally. At some point, you decided he was no longer worth your wasted breath.

Which Jisung noticed and added, “See? I can tell he has a heavy grip on you. This is the first time you’ve ever held your tongue talking to me.”

You had an argument ready to fire, but stopped dead in your tracks when you realized that he was right. Why hadn’t you told Jisung off in vulgar terms yet?

No. It didn’t mean a thing. There was absolutely nothing to it other than you coming to your senses and realizing that bickering with Jisung was - and always had been - utterly pointless. He was obstinate and even after hours of debate, you wouldn’t be anywhere much further than where you started.

Never had you answered to anyone. In spite of working for other people, they knew that you marched to beat of your own drum. There were some traits of yours that were nonnegotiable and they’d either have to accept it or cut you loose.

Ever since you were an infant, you’d carried a reputation. Hell, maybe even before then. You had been called many things in such a short lifetime and an untamable lost cause was likely the least hurtful of them all. Nobody ever believed that anyone as wild as you could be salvaged from the destruction you’d inflicted upon yourself. And hence you began to believe it yourself.

This was the only life that you’d known. It was one where you had no option but to fend for yourself and isolate yourself from the world out of self-preservation. How the hell were you supposed to know how to react to someone sneaking their way inside and making you see life through a different lense?

You had seen so much in your years that you falsely believed that you were numb to fear. But you had never been so scared of something before; change.

You forced yourself to say, “Have a good night, Jisung.” And made a beeline for Mark. The walls of the enormous building were suddenly beginning to close in on you and you felt as if there was no air in a room full of space.

“I need a breather,” you said to Mark, interrupting his conversation.

Mark gave Jeno a glance, then took your fingers in his and asked, “Where to?”

“The rooftop,” you replied lightly, feeling drained and you’d only just got here.

The two of you stopped by the bar and downed a glass of hard liquor before you made your way to the rooftop. There was an elevator with calming music that brought you to the very top of the building.

You decided that you preferred the rooftop as soon as you stepped onto the terrace. It was lit by purple neon lights and void of people, and the air felt fresh and inhalable. Like a breath of fresh air. There were sofas with tiny tables crammed in between scattered about the floor and even further were glass railings that overlooked the entire shining city.

Even at night, the city was never dead, busy with bustling roads and brightly lit structures. You were certain that that was when it came to life.

Mark embraced you in a back hug and you swore time slowed down. But did your heart always beat this fast when he touched you?

“Talk to me,” Mark exhaled, breathing tickling the back of your neck.

You let his touch warm you. It was a great contrast against the chill breeze that swept over the roof at this elevation. “About what?”

“Anything. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

I like you, you said to yourself. And I’m scared because I don’t know what to do.

You shook your head. “How about I kiss you instead?”

“You could have just said that you want to kiss me,” Mark murmured.

Lightheartedly, you admitted, “I want to kiss you so bad, Mark Lee.”

Mark laughed and whirled you around, pinning you against the nearby wall and meeting his lips to yours. It all happened so fast - just like everything else between you two. Everything lasted both for a second and in perpetuity.

He kissed you until you were stripped bare and empty of every last thought. It felt like magic. How he gained the remedy to instantly put you at ease was a mystery, but you didn’t wonder. You just kept sipping from his poison and inhaling the toxins. There was no hope for you anymore. Mark was withering you away and you were simply letting him.

This was wrong on so many levels and yet you never let that stop you. There were no boundaries. You both took what you wanted and you took what you needed without giving any fucks about who didn’t like it. Desperately did you want to believe that nothing would come between you two.

You bit Mark’s lip and he groaned, nails digging into your waist. Which then prompted a tiny noise to part from your own lips. You were a parallel set of actions. It was strange; you didn’t fight for superiority, you fought to be even and equal.

There was something different in the kiss after you bit Mark. As if he’d been injected with an animalistic venom. The tempo increased and you fought to keep up with his every move, moaning into his lips as his tongue let loose inside of your mouth. His grip got even tighter, as if he was holding you to keep you to himself and himself only. There was no where else that you would run. As ironic as it was, you felt safest in Mark’s arms. He was the haven you never had.

Then, you heard a noise. You discerned that Mark heard it too, because he pulled away instantly and caged you behind him defensively. And your heart warmed at the gesture, though you needed no savior.

You sighed and pulled your gun from your holster, calling out, “You’ve got until the count of five to come out because if I have to find you my goddamn self, I’ll blow your brains. One. Two. Three…,”

At the third count, Jeno emerged from behind one of the chairs, gun drawn.

You began to snicker and waved him off. “Oh, put that damn thing down. Hit the road, Jack. And don’t let me catch you again.”

Jeno begrudgingly made a move for the door, not failing to cast you an ugly glare before his glance shifted to Mark, who started at his partner bemusedly. He left without a word.

You glanced up at Mark. “Why was your friend spying on us?”

“I was wondering the same thing,” Mark said, tone full of genuine perplexity.

You furrowed your brows. If Jeno was spying on you and Mark without either of your knowledge, what did that mean?

Maybe he didn’t know what was happening between you and Mark.

With a shake of your head, you grabbed Mark’s hand and led him to the glass railing. And he followed you like a moth to light. You propped your arms against the cool glass and called out, “Mark.”

“Hm?” came Mark’s response from right beside you.

You reluctantly tasted the words on your tongue before you asked, “What was your childhood like?”

“I was born under a bridge,” Mark deadpanned. To which you snorted and nudged his side. “But nah. I didn’t have much growing up. My mom got hooked on drugs real bad and she couldn’t take care of me and my brothers, so we moved in with our aunt. She did the best she could to make ends meet, but you know how that shit works. Whole time, my cousin was on the streets. Made a gang. I followed in his footsteps close enough.”

“What happened for you to wind up here?” you asked, listening with interest.

Mark’s face was impassive. “He’d kill me if he saw me right now.”

As vague as that answer was, you understood perfectly.

There was irony in his story. He was a gang member, then became a cop? Though you were aware that he could have legally lied to you as much as he so pleased, you believed that he was sincere. You learned by now that Mark’s eyes said more than his words ever could.

“What about you?” Mark asked. He wasn’t looking at you, eyes trained to the big city before him, but you knew his ears were ready. “How’d you get here?”

“Fasten your seatbelt,” you joked. Mark had already heard bits and pieces of your life via the stories of some of your tattoos, but this was full screen. “I think I’ve been a demon from hell before I even walked the earth. According to what I’ve heard, my family was against my mother having me. There was a huge stigma that came with having a baby at a young age and without a present father figure. She died during the delivery.”

“I’m sorry,” Mark said sullenly.

You shook your head and continued, “Water under the bridge. It doesn’t get better. I’ve been called a killer since the day I was born. It only made sense that I became one. They said that’s all I was, so I ran and turned to the streets and found a new home. I was in and out of gangs and had several sketchy jobs.”

Mark bobbed his head, listening intently.

“There was one gang I thought I would last in. The one I was in before I joined Bloodlust. I even dated one of the members, but he got violent on me one day. I killed him out of self defense. And I got scared, because I knew I couldn’t come back to the gang after that. The leader would kill me.”

“Is that when you joined Bloodlust?”

You bobbed your head. “Remember when I told you that I’m forever indebted to Yuta? That’s because he saved my life. Took me under his wing and gave me another job and somewhere safe to stay. That’s why we’re so close.”

“Jesus Christ,” Mark said, taking it all in. “You’ve been through hell and back.”

“You’re telling me,” you groaned.

Peace was not a word of any value to you. You’d never known what it felt like. The only thing you knew was survival. It was kill or be killed; hunt or be hunted. Life, in your definition, was a series of bad options and choosing the one that was the least loathsome.

After all, you did what you could to live another day. It was never easy, but you learned everything you knew about survival through those everyday choices. You fought for your life every goddamn day and knew nothing different.

It was a battle of strength that required all of your willpower to not succumb.

You blinked when Mark pulled you into a hug. He enjoyed talking to you. Life as either of you’d known it was a bitch, but getting to know you and all you’d been through brought you closer. And all he wanted to do was hold you underneath the moonlight and ease the pain of your scars.

For the most part, the inner circle knew your history, though not from an emotional perspective. The only people you’d ever given an emotional account to were Yuta and now Mark. Yuta was firm on assuring you that yesterday would no longer matter if you worked for him, but Mark made you feel less alone.

Mark was clawing you out of your armor and defenses. You were stripped bare and vulnerable. There was still so much left unseen and for you to explore in this life.

The two of you chatted the night away below the depthlessly starry sky and above the bustling city. You talked about everything under the sun and moon while being sure to share a kiss or two in between. It made you realize that in such a large world, you and Mark were simply two people with a story to share.

But as the time ticked away, the kisses became more frequent and more passionate. You became less interested in the casino and more enamored with Mark. Somewhere along the line your self-restraint snapped into two, and you found yourselves calling it a night and reserving a room at the hotel.

It wasn’t any less lavish than the casino. Especially not the suite you booked. There was a hot tub in the room and a balcony extended out the side with yet another picturesque view of the city.

Plus, it was a one-bedroom with a single bed.

Mark sat at the edge of the mattress and you wasted no time in straddling his lap and meeting your lips to his. It felt like an adventure. The wild and reckless and lethal type.

You could savor him on you even after. And it was the burning longing to taste Mark again that ultimately brought you three steps forwards and two steps back.

Mark pulled away, guilt-ridden, and reminded, “I’m a cop.”

He didn’t know how he expected you to respond, but you didn’t flinch. Like you already knew and you couldn’t care less. You offhandedly replied, “I know,” and endeavored to kiss him again.

Mark held you in place. His expression turned stern and you blew out an exasperated sigh. You were lightyears away from being ready to have this conversation. “So, you’re sleeping with the enemy.”

“I know. But so are you.”

“I know,” Mark said. Lord, did he know.

“Then,” you began, moving for his neck instead and uttering your words in between tiny pecks and nibbles. “We have nothing to talk about.”

Mark angled your bodies and pinned you down - as if that would stop you - and countered, “We have a lot to talk about.”

Frustrated, you incredulously groaned, “You want to talk about how I’m gonna have to put a round of bullets in your brain in the near future while I’m trying to fuck you?”

Mark scoffed, “You mean, I’m gonna have to hand you in cuffs to the police.”

“I’d like to see you try,” you taunted. It would have been in your best interest to be very careful about what you wished for, though you knew Mark would never. You refused to believe that.

Mark shook his head, laughing. As if he’d read your mind and wholeheartedly agreed that the thought was absurd. “You know I’m crazy about you, right?”

“Prove it.”

Mark leaned down to kiss you for a half of a second, then whispered in your ear, “I will.”

Then, he switched on a dime, and all of the heat and passion of his desire overcame him again.

You were fucking with a Leo; you should have known that you were in for the most wild ride of your life.

Void of patience, Mark clawed at your clothes roughly. You had the whole night, but he stripped you away as if you had only minutes to spare. The whole time, your lips locked in an impassioned kiss as you tried intensely to keep up with the other’s rhythm.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Mark growled. He spoke his mind. It was the first thing he thought every time he laid eyes on you.

The tone of his voice had you seeping with arousal, and to hide your desperation, you flirted, “Fuck me then, handsome.”

Mark grunted. He couldn’t wait anymore. “Do you have a condom?”

“Yes, but I have an IUD,” you added, hoping he’d catch your drift.

Mark blinked in realization. “Fuck. You want me to…”

“Yes,” you groaned, growing more impatient by the minute. “You’re clean, right?”

“Squeaky.”

“Then, hurry up.”

So much for not seeming desperate.

Mark shed his remaining layers of clothing and you licked your lips at the sight of his cock standing at full height against his stomach. Making out with you always got him hard like nothing else on this planet.

You eyed his movements with anticipation. Your body was burning for him to fill the void that he’d created. Like you weren’t complete until he was buried deeply inside you.

Your heart sped as he neared your hole. Mark was nothing if not a tease. He damped himself in your arousal and only pushed in when he heard you whimper, smiling smugly to himself. The first thrust was agonizingly slow. Mark took his sweet time to fit his cock into you, watching your face twist and your breath slow as you took him inch by inch.

There was something about the first thrust that was inexplicably magical to you. Being filled to the hilt with thick heat for the very first time. You held your breath every time.

Then, Mark pulled back out altogether and on cue, you let out an immediate noise of displeasure. “Mark…”

The man in question was firm on reducing you to ash and bones. “Beg,” he growled, leaning low into your ear.

You laughed. As if to tell him he sounded insane. “I don’t beg.”

Mark didn’t blink when he told you, “You do today.” His face was void of all humor and he glanced at you expectantly. He dragged his length on top of your pussy, steering just shy of where you needed him. And it was very intentional.

God, did you try to resist, but Mark had grown familiar with your weaknesses in such a short span of time. Every bone in your body ached for him to fill you. To make you complete once more. It begged to be unabridged and tell him your body’s every secret story. And your pride was a fair compensation.

You stifled a groan and said faintly, “Please.”

“C’mon, doll. You can do better than that,” Mark chided playfully, evidently dissatisfied.

You exhaled a sigh and inhaled your pride. “Please, fuck me, Mark. I can’t wait anymore. I need you.”

Mark teased, “Now, was that so hard?” And before you could provide any commentary, he was burying himself inside you yet again.

It wasn’t very long before you were content again. You let out a sigh of relief when Mark filled you once more, and another when he thrusted out and pushed back inside. His rough hands gripped your hips and he watched the way your cunt swallowed him whole, as if you simply couldn’t get enough of him.

Fuck, you felt like heaven. The way you clamped around him - warm and wet and tight - always set off something animalistic inside of him, but bareback? There was no way in hell he would last.

Mark was only slow to tease you. The moment he exhausted his self-control, he set an uptempo pace. He eyed you like a preying hawk, thinking about how beautiful you were. It was an unshakable thought; you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Eagerly taking his cock like you were made for it or not.

Everything felt so natural with Mark. Nothing was learned nor taught, it was simply second nature for your body to respond to him with ardency and abidance. It came naturally.

“You feel so good,” Mark groaned, giving your thigh a little slap as if to punish you for bringing him to ecstasy. And smirking a little when you let out a tiny cry. “Why do you feel so good?”

You playfully retorted, “‘Cause I’m a goddess.”

Mark nodded. “I believe you.” He brought one of his hands from your hips and ventured your perfect body. Perfect in his eyes. Every spot and curve and scar. And the bruises he’d left, of course. “My Aphrodite.”

You lifted your head a little to clench your teeth into his neck and Mark leaned into you, biting at your shoulder to smother his sounds. Which made you giggle. It always amused you that he was so sensitive to your every touch.

Gosh, you were so goddamn close; skin on skin. Fire wafted over your body, fueled by the flames of his sweltering skin. Sweat beaded at your skin and heat shot through every muscle of your body. The way Mark was pounding into you mercilessly only made you scorch even more. It was impossible to breathe and you loved it. There was no greater feeling than being suffocated by pleasure and arousal.

You locked eyes with Mark and swore you couldn’t feel your pulse. Missionary wasn’t something you did with Mark very often, but you loved to watch his face tense with pleasure. And making prolonged eye contact caused your heart to swell with something unfamiliar. Something vicious and strong that made your entire body ignite with warmth.

The sex was rough and fast, yet intimate. Mark was just the right amount of all three.

Mark loosely gripped your throat and growled, “Tell me you love it.”

You bowed your body into him, moaning, “I love it so much.”

That was the right answer. Mark continued to love you all over. His body never neglected any part of yours, showering you with warmth and pleasure. Like he had nothing but depthless appreciation for you.

The longer Mark fucked you, the less you could think of anything other than him. You forgot about the huge city right outside the balcony. Everyone and everything else melted away and it was only you and Mark chasing the satisfaction of each other’s bodies and love.

Love. You were beginning to accept it. There was nowhere to run and no escape; not when Mark was overwhelming you with heated fervor and passion. He was suffocating you with that forbidden four-letter word.

You were beginning to fall in love with Mark.

If love was a poison, you were sipping to your demise and savoring the taste on your tongue. If combining sex with love was a one-way ticket to death, you’d die in Mark’s arms. There was no place else you’d rather be.

“All mine,” Mark growled, pressing kisses down your collarbone and breast to your stomach. All you could feel were tingles that refused to vacate you. They’d found a new home.

Softly, you replied, “All yours.”

There was no arguing with that. The way your body responded to his touch, it was as if you were carefully crafted for Mark and Mark only. Which, the way he fit perfectly inside of you was a testament to.

Mark made you feel rupture and rapture. They were practically indistinguishable. He broke you into a billion tiny pieces that were held together by unfaltering desire.

Just listening to the mess that you’d both created set you ablaze. The wet, resounding clap of Mark slamming his hips into yours as well as your moans and heavy breaths filled the empty air. Your eyes rolled back at the lewd noises. “Mark, Mark,” you cried out his name, sensing you were only moments away from the edge.

Mark knew that you were close without asking and he was trailing right behind you by nearly nothing at all. His pace was vigorous, positively trying to fuck your brains out.

You only got closer and closer. His thrusts felt sharper and the pressure continued to build in your gut at a rate quicker than you could handle and far beyond your control. Any moment now, you would be at your breaking point.

“Don’t pull out,” you demanded, knowing he wasn’t far behind you. It was written all over his face.

Mark grunted at the mere thought of coming inside of you. Needless to say, he had dreamed of letting his release flood you. “Want me to fill you up?”

“Yes,” you moaned, craving him more than anything ever. “Please.”

Mark clamped his fingers around your throat, knowing it would bring you to finish quicker than anything else. “Let go for me, baby,” he said lustfully.

Just like that, you were convulsing with climax. As if he single-handedly controlled every muscle and nerve in your body. The room reeled as you came, voice as loud as it could be with his hand denying you the privilege of breath. Your nails dug harshly into the flesh of his back as your whole body shuddered uncontrollably with release.

You and Mark stared each other in the eyes as you both came. You watched his lips split in a grunt and his orgasm knocked the wind out of him, flaring down his spine. His fingers dug tighter around your throat and his cum filled you all at once. “Take it all,” he ordered, body coming to a halt. “Every last drop.”

Your body obeyed, still eagerly clinging around his cock. It was like you wanted to bleed each other dry. Him of all of his cum and you of your willpower.

Then, you slowly yet steadily both came to a stop. Mark took his precious time to pull out of you, but watched his seed trickle out of your sweet cunt with adoration. His grip around your neck slackened, and you both settled down to finally breathe for what felt like the first time ever.

It wasn’t like you to be so exhausted after a single round, but that night, you were completely spent. You cleaned up a little, then drifted into sleep within the comfort of Mark’s embrace.

Mark held your sleeping figure closely, taking all of your warmth and replacing it with his. I love you, he thought gently. And I’m sorry.

You fell asleep in Mark’s arms, and after a long night of dreaming about him in your sleep, woke up in them, too. And you had the biggest smile on your face when you realized that some time between when you fell asleep and when you woke up, Mark had removed your makeup.

You were beginning to love Mark so much that you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

Last night was mind-blowing. And not only that, it gave you an epiphany. You wanted Mark in your life. You wanted to wake up in his arms and feel his body on yours. You wanted to kiss him while cuddling beneath the moonlight. You wanted to take over the world with him.

But by doing so, you would have broken one of Bloodlust’s most important rules; disobeying direct orders. The cost? Your life.

All of the warmth of loving Mark you felt for him only moments ago suddenly dissipated into cold unadulterated fear.

You stared at his sleeping face and felt a tear slide down your face. I’m sorry.

Mark’s eyes fluttered open. He wiped your tears with his thumb and asked in his gruff morning voice, “Why are you crying?”

You smiled and shook your head. “It’s nothing,” you lied.

Though in reality, you were so overwhelmed. And borderline terrified. The last time you loved someone, they tried to violate you. Not to mention you knew the inner circle would never approve of your relationship with Mark.

If you didn’t kill him, then they would. And then you’d be next.

“Don’t lie to me,” Mark said. He could see that this whole predicament was doing a large number on you. Even the strongest soldiers had their weak points.

You sighed faintly. Then said, “I’ll tell you later.”

Mark’s hand found yours and squeezed it tightly. “Promise?”

“I promise.” You glanced at his neck, and failed to hide your grin of pride as you saw the pattern of marks you’d left there. Little traces of you flooded his whole body. As traces of him did yours. “Mm, did I do that?”

He shifted his glance down and snickered. “You did.”

You hummed. “I didn’t mean to go that far.”

“For some reason, I don’t believe you.”

You gasped in faux offense. Then, broke into a fit of giggles. The sight tugged at Mark’s heartstrings and the corners of his lips.

That smile was what made your heart beat. You brought your lips to Mark’s in a peck. Or three. Insatiably craving more, Mark held your face and kissed you even longer and harder.

One thing led to another. One second your lips were to his and the next he was lazily fucking you into pieces, moans echoing inside the room in between kisses and giggles.

You were so far gone that there was no redemption.

The weeks flew by at the speed of lightning and in no time at all, you were months deep into Mark. He gave you everything that the narcotics unit had on you thus far, and you were pleasantly surprised to find that it wasn’t much at all. They had most of the inner circle identified save for Jaemin (not surprisingly), but the relationships were either vague, inaccurate or a combination thereof.

The only reason Jaemin and Ten hadn’t cracked their unit open yet was because of the tight lock they had on all gang-related cases. And they kept their information on physical files. Granted, it was very scarce.

Begrudgingly, of course, you had to give Jisung credit there. Neither Mark or Jeno had caught a glimpse of those imported drugs before in their lives.

Given that you made no attempts to hide your affection, it was broadly known that there was a bond between both you and Mark. You played it off as baiting him; luring him into your trap in order to milk him for everything he knew. Your emotions were kept under wraps when he was the topic of discussion and you fought smiles whenever you heard someone say Mark’s name. They fell hook, line, and sinker.

“They had a hunch that you were Yuta’s girlfriend,” Mark had told you. Now that he was confidently aware that it wasn’t the case, he found it laughable. “I was supposed to use you to move in proximity with the inner circle. The best way to take down any organization is to remove the heart, but obviously I never got far.”

Apparently, their source of rationale were photographs of you and Yuta together discreetly taken. It was a lie you fed into, providing Mark fake intel to feed his dangerously nosy co-workers. As always, the less law enforcement knew, the better.

Your shoulders shook with laughter. “You used to be such a pain in the ass, y’know? I can’t believe you bugged me.”

Mark furrowed his brows. “Huh?”

“Didn’t you put a bug in my pocket?” you asked, arching your brows. “After the race. You know, when you hugged me?”

“My hands were on your back,” Mark reminded, confused. As were you. “That was probably Jeno. But he hasn’t mentioned anything to me about it. I never bugged you, baby - I genuinely just wanted a hug.”

You barked, “The hell is his problem with me? I mean, for an undercover cop he’s obvious as hell. Why send somebody with no prior experience to the danger zone?”

Mark shrugged. He had very little say on the matter. Not that he fought it, either. “They decided that he was ‘the second-most equipped.’ Verbatim.”

“I can’t imagine why. That night on the rooftop,” you trailed off, shaking your head. “I don’t think he trusts you.”

Mark laughed. That was to put it simply. “Yeah, me neither. I told him I was fooling around with you to gain your trust - and at first, I was. But not anymore.”

That went without saying. But you still retorted, “If you’re fucking with me, Mark, I’ll kill you.”

Mark snorted. “I’m sure.”

He wasn’t afraid of you. Like you were a puppy posing as a wolf waving your paws at him with puppy eyes. Mark, threatened by you? As if. You were his fucking baby.

Long nights of feeding Bloodlust intel on the narcotics unit, then coming home to Mark passed by. You’d eventually given him your address and permitted him to go inside. He quite liked your home. It looked and smelled like you. He never knew what to imagine when it came to the interior of your house, but upon seeing, it made perfect sense.

Pictures of you and your friends scattered around the house. None of you by yourself and none with your family. Little plants growing healthily. You mentioned that they were high-maintenance. Your favorite blankets in a heap on the sofa. And a bookshelf brimming with novels. Mark was pleasantly surprised to learn that you were a major bookworm. And a closeted romantic.

It was close to midnight when you heard someone behind you. Very swiftly, you were endeavoring to arrive safely to the garage where your car waited, though you knew that there was no chance of making it in one piece without confrontation. You turned a corner and patiently drew your gun; it wasn’t very often that you ventured into the night alone past sunset, but you damn sure made certain that your gun was tucked to yourself.

There was a familiar negative energy all around you. It was impossible to ignore - far too suffocating and too distinguishable to be neglected.

Not surprising in the slightest, it was Jeno who rounded the corner. With his usual scowl, and an aimed gun.

Narrowing your eyes, you snapped, “What do you want?”

Jeno smiled. It was the first time you’d seen his lips form anything other than a crooked frown, but it still exuded that same level of cold grimness. “I think you know what I want.”

You studied Jeno for a moment. For someone who believed you were the second-in-command’s girlfriend, he showed you no fear, grip on his gun firm as he aimed it squarely at your chest. Apparently, you were a woman that was loyal to no one but herself in the eyes of the law. Which made you all the more unpredictable. “I know that you’re not who you say you are,” you began levelly, inching closer. “I know everything there is to know about you, Jeno.”

“Because Mark told you, right?” Jeno snarled. “I know a lot about you, too - like how you’ve been whoring yourself out to Mark because you know that he’s easy. He was ripe for the picking and that’s why they stuck me with him; because they knew he needed grounding.”

That made you bristle with anger, but you kept a lid over your temper and retorted, “That sounds like a nice little fairy tale. Is that what you’re going to tell the big boss?”

Ignoring you, Jeno continued, “The world will know the truth about you and this whole gang. You’re more than the bitch they pay to secretly do their bidding. Before you were Scar, you were a gang-hopper.”

Seething, you lunged at Jeno with the gun. He blocked the attack - courtesy of your blindness from the rage that ran down your spine - and cocked his gun at you.

And then there was a loud, piercing gunshot.

But you were never shot. Jeno’s grip on his gun slackened and fell to the ground with him. He lay there gaping, a hand over his stomach that bled profusely. And glancing not at you; behind you. When you turned around, Mark emerged from the corner around you and stepped out of the shadows to approach you.

“You should be more careful,” Mark chided. “What if it wasn’t me behind you?”

Though you wanted to smile, you couldn’t. There was a tormenting question on your brain. How does Jeno know about my past?

“Mark,” Jeno choked out, nearly coughing up blood. He raised his arm with all of his strength and pointed with a trembling finger. “Mark is…,”

Mark didn’t let him finish, cutting Jeno off with a bullet to the head. Whatever he was going to say died with him.

Rather than feeling relieved, you were unnerved. Mark killed Jeno to protect you. Love made people do crazy things - that you knew better than anyone else, but Mark seemed colder than you’d ever seen him before. He didn’t waver; unhesitating and unremorseful.

As if this wasn’t his first rodeo.

“You never mentioned telling the team about my past.”

Mark cast you a glance. “That’s because I didn’t.”

You narrowed your eyes and whispered, “Then, how did Jeno know?”

Mark caught onto what you were hinting at and his face swiftly softened. There was no way in hell that he would do anything to hurt you. And he needed you to know that. “I never said a word about your past to him, baby. I swear. I don’t know how he found out, but you need to know that I’d never air out any of your business.”

There were other possibilities, too. Your past wasn’t exactly private - that you knew. He could have contacted your old friends, or heard the gossip of the low-ranks. Any of those roads were open, but it meant more if Mark himself exposed you. That was unacceptable.

You blew out a sigh and reminded yourself that Mark had been in gangs before - he most likely had bodies. As always, you were just paranoid. You believed that everyone was out to get you because the people that were meant to embrace you released you into the cold.

Hiding your gun, you pulled Mark into your embrace and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Mark murmured. “Just tell me that you trust me.”

“I trust you,” you told him. No reluctance, no shame. And I love you.

You knew that Mark loved you too. In your heart and bones. He had killed for you.

You called someone to discard Jeno's corpse and went home with Mark. The two of you talked and fell asleep by each other’s side. It was more or less a routine.

But when you woke up, Mark wasn’t there. You called out his name; no response. You looked inside the bathroom and he wasn’t there. The living room, kitchen, and all of his favorite spots inside your house were almost void of life.

Mark wasn’t there and it was downright laughable that that frightened you to your very core, but he never left without telling you. You scanned your memories of last night for any warning and ultimately came short.

It wasn’t the first time that you’d woken up alone, but more often than not, you woke up in each other’s arms. Occasionally, one of you would be in the bathroom or kitchen, but you never left the house without mentioning it the night before or leaving some form of text or note.

Though when you checked your phone, it was empty.

And so, you began to do the one thing you very seldom did; panic. There was no indication that Mark had been forced out of your house, but the depthless list of possibilities unnerved you. You prayed that he was somewhere safe. That at most, maybe he’d simply forgotten. You would have scolded him for getting you wound up over nothing, but at least he would be out of harm’s way.

There was a knock at your front door and hoping it was Mark, you rushed to open it, but you frowned when you were met with the face of a man that you’d never seen before.

The stranger said, “Hi. I’m Huang Renjun and I know you don’t know me, but you’ve got to get the fuck out of here. Right now.”

You blinked. Then, shut the door on him. It was too goddamn early for this foolishness.

Undeterred, Renjun opened the door again and welcomed himself inside. This town wasn’t big enough for two stubborn assholes.

You screeched, “The hell, man?”

Renjun exclaimed, “Do you want to die?”

“I literally do not know who the fuck you are!”

“Yes. I thought I made that very clear,” Renjun hissed, gritting his teeth. “But you do know Alexander Lee.”

In an instant, you were rendered gorgonized like a gargoyle. That name never failed to put you in a borderline unresponsive stupor. Anything regarding Alexander “Lex” Lee plagued your heart and body with crisp fear.

“I don’t want anything that has to do with Lex,” you replied, shaking your head and backing away.

This game of hide-and-seek had kept you on your toes for ages now. You’d spent the last years of your life off the grid to take cover from him and now this? Hell no.

Renjun briefly studied you. For someone rumored to have looked death in the face and blown him a kiss, it was not at all lost on him how terrified you’d suddenly become at the mere mention of Lex’s name. It was a warranted fear - the one that made you tick. “I’m sure. But if you don’t leave this place as soon as possible, he’s going to kill you.”

“And I’m supposed to just trust you?” you whispered, all the bite in your voice demolished by terror.

“Mark sent me.”

You blinked. “What?”

Renjun groaned, though didn’t elaborate. It was no mystery how you and Mark got along. For one, you were both a pain in ass and a thorn in his side. Instead, he drew his phone from his pocket and dialed a number. And put the phone on speaker.

“Do you have her?” came Mark’s voice.

Renjun said exasperatedly, “Let’s try ‘Hello, Renjun.’ Or ‘Hi.’ Most people say that when they pick up the phone, you know.”

“Mark,” you breathed, relieved to hear his voice. He was somewhere out there. But you were hurt that he left you.

Ignoring Renjun, Mark greeted, “Hi, doll.”

Renjun only wished he had time to argue. He would have burned your lover alive for greeting you instead of him, but the clock was ticking. He already had too many irons in the fire. “Hurry up and talk some sense into your girl, Mark. She doesn’t believe me.”

Your girl, he had said. Mark’s girl. For a split second, your heart brimmed with warmth.

Mark began from across the line, “Listen to me, baby. I know this is sudden and I’ll explain everything as soon as I get the chance, but you need to trust me and listen to Renjun. Okay?”

Your heart sank. “What’s going on?”

“No time to explain,” Mark told you curtly. “Just do this for me. Please.”

You blew out a sigh. This was too much too soon. Ultimately, you decided to trust Mark. “Okay.”

Mark blurted, “I love you.”

A pained smile curled your lips. “I love you more.”

“Alright, fun’s over,” Renjun interjected. He would not stick around for your lovey-dovey mess. Especially not when lives were on the line and in jeopardy. “We’ll talk to you later, Mark. You go get dressed and come on.”

Begrudgingly, you did as told, rushing upstairs to throw on an appropriate outfit before you headed back down and got inside a car with a man that you’d known for less than fifteen minutes.

As soon as you were on the road, you reminded yourself that you had no idea what was happening and where you were going, and asked, “Where are we going?”

Renjun replied, “Somewhere safe.”

Vague. You didn’t like that. “Are you a cop?”

“No.”

“Do you work with Mark?”

“Not in the way that you think,” Renjun responded, patiently quickly evaporating into thin air.

You pressed, “Then, in what way?”

Gosh, you were aggravating. In his mind, Renjun was likening you to a child that persistently asked their parents, ‘Are we there yet?’ during long road trips. “Jesus, woman! Would you stop badgering me?”

You narrowed your eyes and faced the window so that you wouldn’t lunge at him. “I just want to know what’s going on. You mention Lex Lee - the man that’s been indirectly making my life hell for the last years of my life - and expect me to not have questions?”

You had him there. Alexander was the devil himself and anyone that had known him for five minutes could most likely back you up. His goons were lightly compensated and offered little leeway, and the worst part was the hierarchy system.

Everyone was inferior to someone save for Lex, and the designated high-ranks were equally crooked. They schemed to get away with stepping out of line directly under his nose, often pinning the blame on low-ranking members to avoid lethal retribution.

That was why you were scared shitless to return that day. Lex and your ex-boyfriend were like brothers. It didn’t matter what you told him happened to you - you’d be lucky if he cared. Let alone believed you.

Renjun heaved a breath. You had a very fair argument. “Lex is looking for you. He’s attacked Bloodlust’s headquarters. That’s why Mark wants me to keep you safe.”

“What?” you shrieked in terror. “I have to go back there!”

Renjun turned onto another street and shook his head, eyeing the roads for Lex’s hounds. “It’s not safe. Do you hear me? It’s not safe. You were scared shitless of anything involving Lex three seconds ago.”

“I don’t care,” you hissed. “This is my battle. I’ll be damned if I let anyone else fight it for me. Yuta saved my life - now it’s my turn.”

Renjun balked, “No, it’s not. I know about Bloodlust. They protect you as long as you do their bidding. So let them do their goddamn job.”

Gritting your teeth, you crossed your arms and stared out the window, watching buildings and signs whirl by in a blur. It was clear that Renjun would not be wooed by you, but you refused to sit and do nothing. Especially when his connection - or Mark’s - to Lex was unknown. There had to be another way.

Recognizing the road you turned onto, you had an idea. It was reckless and extremely dangerous, but you wouldn’t let that deter you. Not when the better half of your life consisted of making life-threatening choices. There was the option to take the hard way or the easy way out.

And you’d be damned if you took the easy way.

Calculating, you counted down the seconds in your head until you could make your move. The moment you were down to one, you moved at the speed of light and swung the car door open, launching yourself out and rolling into an area of enclosed grass.

You grabbed your gun from your purse and aimed squarely at Renjun’s tires, sending him swerving somewhere. He screamed in the distance, “You sick psychopathic bitch!”

I’ve heard that before, too, you thought to yourself with levity. And then, like your life depended on it, you bolted.

Dusting away dirt and twigs, you sprinted and sprinted and sprinted. The street was close to the garages. Obviously, your car wasn’t there, but there were plenty that were.

You bust through the garage and scanned each of the open slots for your unlucky victim. There were several people, most polishing up their cars before tonight’s race. And you swiftly made your pick, not having time to linger.

You snatched one of the racer’s keys and asked breathlessly, “Can I borrow these? Thanks, you’re the best!”

Screams of protest were your less than pleased response, but you had already made a distance on the garage by the time anyone thought to react. The moment you were on a road, you let out a thick, heavy breath.

Forget crazy. You were out of your goddamn mind.

You sped as fast as you could without going over the limit, given you had already committed two crimes in broad daylight. The last thing you needed was a high-speed police chase.

The east side of the headquarters was the closest and you drove like the devil. The closer you neared, the faster your heart echoed in your chest. You hoped Mark wasn’t there, but with his knowledge of Lex, you had aching questions numb you to your love. And you prayed your boss decided to take an off day.

Alas, the building was - metaphorically speaking - ablaze when you arrived there. A grating dissonance of screams and gunshots filled the distant air. Lex had called war on Bloodlust via this ambush, but not knowing who was winning completely unnerved you.

You got out of the car and approached the building through the rear side. Conveniently, there were emergency exits installed in scatters around the headquarters designed for similar occasions. Discreetly, you entered through one, and steered clear of the noise as you stealthily made your way upstairs. It was in your best interest to remain undetected. For all they knew, you weren’t here.

Creeping around corners, you held your breath. As if the slightest sound would have you killed on the spot. The loud halls that echoed with gunshots terrified you, but the eerily silent ones were too quiet to be relieving.

Whirling around the corner, you parted your lips to scream when you bumped into someone, and they clamped their palm over your mouth. “Shut the fuck up,” Jisung growled, looking both ways like a civilian crossing the street. When he deemed the close clear, he released you. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Heaving, you asked, “Have you seen Yuta or Mark?”

Jisung answered you with complete disinterest and disdain, and said, “Yuta’s been unresponsive. As for loverboy, he’s the reason you’re in this mess.”

You realized that you’d blown your cover the second you mentioned Mark, but you didn’t care. For the sake of your heart and mind, you needed to trust and believe that he was safe. You wouldn’t know how to go on without him. How to unlearn everything you’d gotten so accustomed to in his presence.

“What do you mean, unresponsive?” you repeated, lost for words. “And the reason? What the hell are you talking about?”

Jisung pinched his nose and shook his head. “Forget it. Figure that shit out yourself.”

He turned around and walked away, Part of you was tempted to scream after him, though the sight of a man emerging from the shadows behind Jisung - armed with murder on his mind - silenced you. For some reason, everything in your body told you to pick up your gun and shoot. You complied, and shot fire.

Jisung whirled back around in time to watch the man hit the ground, gone without knowing what hit him. He rooted to the spot, gaze rising to your figure and noticing the gun in your grasp. “Did you just…”

“Save your life?” you finished. “Yeah. You’re welcome.”

Jisung blew out a sigh. He was many things, including your mortal enemy, but he had a moral compass and in that moment he owed you his life. He glanced around once more, then told you, “Mark is a member of The Basilisks.”

You wanted to laugh. “What?”

Jisung made his tone as menacing as possible and added, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. But your loverboy isn’t who you think he is. Jaemin followed up on him today. Mark’s cousin is Alexander Lee and he’s been in that gang since a little after you started working for Yuta.”

Your heart sank. You wanted to deny it with everything you had, but it made sense. How else would Mark know Lex? He even mentioned that his cousin made a gang. Stupid, you told yourself. You’re so fucking stupid.

God, you wished the ground would swallow you whole. You wanted to isolate yourself from the rest of the world and rot to bones. Mark had gotten under your skin, reduced you to your true, bare self. He had seen all of the good and bad; the beautiful and ugly. You felt comfortable enough to be more vulnerable with him than you ever had anyone else. Was all of that in vain?

The Basilisk Biker’s. It hurt so goddamn much. You felt so used and betrayed. And empty. Like you had poured your mind, body, heart and soul into loving Mark and had nothing left to spare.

Maybe you did.

Jisung saw the sadness in your eyes and felt a pang of something he had never felt for you before. It didn’t feel right. Your eyes always gleamed with fire, but your flame was demolished. He wanted to hug you, but it wasn’t his embrace that you needed at the moment. He doubted you would want it in the first place.

Instead, he said, “You have to get out of here.”

“I have to find Yuta,” you argued, gritting your teeth.

“What if he’s safe?”

Without missing a beat, you shot, “What if he’s not?”

Jisung had argued with you enough in his lifetime to know that you were headstrong and demanded your way. If you wanted something enough, there was absolutely nothing on this earth that could stop you from chasing it. But he also knew that the moment something happened to you once he left you alone, your blood would be on his hands. “I’m going with you.”

You shrugged and replied, “Suit yourself.” Then, began to make your way up the stairs. The elevators were too risky.

You fought tears and focused yourself on your boss. You’d be damned if you cried while anyone was watching. You had taken a bullet tougher than this. Toughen up, you hissed inwardly.

The long staircase had made you realize just how large the headquarters was. In your head, you had always thought of it as a second home. Now, it was being destroyed by your first one.

When you reached the floor of Yuta’s office, you stepped onto the ground, peeking around and spotting Basilisks. Jisung whispered, “I’ll distract them. You go check his office.”

You nodded. Jisung did exactly what he said that he would, and you set out for Yuta’s office. Just from standing outside the door, you could tell that it was empty. But you needed to see for yourself. You counted down from three, attempting to soothe your rapidly moving mind, and barged inside.

The sight unnerved you. Yuta was nowhere to be found, but the room was completely wrecked. Like he was blitzed and fought like hell against his attacker.

There was little trace of him. No sign of where he was or where he’d gone. Not even traces of blood. Just his belongings toppled over in a heap and his window completely open, curtains blustering.

“Find something interesting here?”

Fear riveted you in place. You took your time to turn around, met face to face with a man straight out of a nightmare.

“Lex,” you exhaled thickly, the wind knocked out of you.

Lex smiled wickedly. There was a gun in his hand. “Long time no see, old friend.”

You shook your head viciously and screamed, “Where the hell is my boss?”

Lex inched closer, closing in on you as if he was going to make you walk off of a plank. You took steps backwards, colliding with Yuta’s desk. “Well, I could tell you, but where’s the fun in that?”

“You son of a bitch,” you hissed.

As if he didn’t hear you, Lex continued, “It wounded me real bad when you left, y’know. Word on the street is that this Yuta fool had you sold in less than a day. Then, I find out you killed Riley,” Lex laughed. “Whew, I was livid!”

“You were going to kill me,” you said, moving around the desk as swiftly as possible. You never wanted to leave. There were people in that gang that you considered family and you missed them everyday of your life. You never wanted to leave them behind.

“Damn right, I was!” Lex shouted. He didn’t sound angry - he sounded insane. That was arguably worse. “With my bare goddamn hands!”

You shook your head, fighting to remain calm. Lex’s weakness was his anger, but so was yours. If you stayed rational, you had a fighting chance at survival. “I didn’t want to kill Riley. You have to trust me on that, Lex. He was trying to push me into things I wasn’t ready for. I didn’t have a choice.”

Pretending to care, Lex crooned, “You have a choice now. Come back home. Let’s be a family again. The girls missed you the worst.”

Or else what? You knew your other unspoken choice was gruesome as they always had been, but you also knew that Lex was full of shit. There was no way in hell that he would let you off that easily.

Or alive, for that matter.

You knew what your options were, because you knew Alexander Lee better than anyone else alive. He was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. A narcissist if you knew one, blind to his flaws. He was manipulative and deceptive, but worst of all, he had not a shred of mercy.

If anyone was going to take your life from you, it wouldn’t be Lex. You refused to grant him that pleasure. And you knew very well that the only reason you were still alive and breathing was because he wanted to kill you with his own bare hands. Nobody would be given the satisfaction of taking your life if not you.

You shook your head and swore, “Over my dead body.”

Then, you leapt out of the window.

And crash landed onto the balcony on the floor below you. You struck the deep trenches of your memory, reminding yourself that Yuta once mentioned that he refused to get a balcony like the rest of the members. He claimed that in times of crisis, he wouldn’t regret his decision. And you chose to believe that that was how he escaped. It was a graceless fall. It hurt like a bitch, but what mattered was that you were still alive. Somehow.

You raced through the floor in case Lex was crazy enough to follow you.

You ran and you ran and you ran for your life. Your legs ached from all of the reckless stunts you’d pulled today, but you never stopped running. The thoughts seeped into your mind, going miles per minute, trying to outmatch the speed of your feet. You thought of your family and felt pain. You thought of Lex and felt fear. You thought of your old friends and felt regret. You thought of Yuta and felt dread. You thought of Mark and felt stone-cold betrayal.

But you also felt love. Your heart hammered like it was trying to wreck its way through your chest. You wanted some kind of explanation for this, one that would make all of the pain fade, but you knew that there was none.

How could Mark tell you that he loved you but work aside the same man that made your life a living hell? Your heart was crying blood. It bled and beat for him all at once.

Adrenaline made you numb to the pain of everything except for your wounded heart. Maybe you were wrong. Maybe there was someone else that would be granted the satisfaction of taking your life. Giving Mark the key to your heart was like handing him a gun and telling him to shoot. Your heart begged for the one person that you were forbidden to have.

Speak of the devil, they say. And he shall appear.

Somewhere in the run for your life, you bumped directly into Mark. He looked relieved and displeased to see you all at once.

Mark grabbed you and whispered, “Baby…”

You swatted his hands away and cried, “Don’t call me that!”

Mark reached for your hand, squeezing tightly. There was no levity in his tone when he said, “I’m not doing any of this to hurt you. I swear on my life. You just need to trust me.”

“No,” you shouted, fighting like hell to keep your tears at bay. They stung your eyes, but he didn’t deserve to see them fall. “You’ve been lying to me this whole time and expect me to trust you? That’s not how that works, Mark.”

“I know,” Mark agreed. “And you have every right to be pissed at me for what I’m about to do.”

Before you had the chance to ask questions, Mark pulled you to his chest and clamped his palm over your mouth, then shouted, “Over here - I’ve got her!”

Basilisks began to fill your vision. They circled you like a shark to its prey, guns aimed. You noticed familiar faces around you, and you couldn’t blame them for any vengeful feelings they felt for you. Mark shoved you in the middle by yourself, like he was presenting his artwork to them, proud of his product.

Lex spoke to Mark, but you tuned in and out, their words being reduced to white noise. You felt so much pain and fear that your body began to numb your senses in self-preservation. It was too much to bear.

This is it, you thought somberly. This is my end. Part of you was satisfied with that. You were so tired. You had worked your whole life and experienced loss to loss with no breaks in between. No breathing room. If you weren’t a sinner, you would have believed that you would finally meet your mother.

Then again, depending on who you asked, she was a sinner too.

“Thought you could run from me,” Lex taunted, clearly amused. “I thought you would have learned by now. No one escapes me. No one escapes their fate.”

He was right. After all, you had nowhere to run this time. Not with over a dozen guns pointed squarely at your head.

All you wanted was for him to make this quick. To put you out of your misery already. Add one more scar to your body in completion.

Lex tilted his head. “Any last words?”

Without hesitation, you spat, “Fuck you.”

Lex burst into laughter. Then, much to your surprise, said, “Mark, finish her.”

You stayed still and held your breath, knowing this was the inevitable end. But you couldn’t look at Mark. It would hurt you too much.

Then, The Basilisks switched on a dime and aimed their guns at Lex - including Mark. Stupidly, you stood there blinking. Lisa - one of your old friends - had to pull you out of harm’s way. She whispered, “You’re safe. Everything’s gonna be okay now.”

Too stunned to speak, you stood gawking.

Lex blurted, “What the hell do you all think you’re doing?”

“This has to end, Alexander. And it ends with you,” Mark began, casting his cousin an unsympathetic glance. “For the past decade, you’ve been making everyone here's life a living hell. How much longer did you think we were going to put up with that bullshit?”

Lex began to stumble backwards, reaching for escape, but one of the Basilisks named Yangyang pushed him back into the circle, then said, “Woah, woah, woah - where do you think you’re going, big guy?”

Realizing he was cornered, Lex turned to stare at his cousin in disbelief. “Really? Your own flesh and blood, Mark?”

Mark let out a remorseless chuckle. “Don’t pretend to have a moral compass now. Here’s the thing, Lex. Everyone here considers each other family and you’ve fucked every last one of us over. You don’t give a flying fuck about blood and flesh; all you care about is power. You like that you can kill whoever - whenever - and our fate lies in your hands.”

“It used to,” Yangyang corrected from the sidelines. “Now, the tables have turned. You get to feel what’s like to be on the other side of torture.”

Another Basilisk - Seulgi - spoke up from the crowd, voice dripping with the bite of venom, “You pay us less than we’re worth to do your bidding and you let those sons of bitches get away with framing us - but impose the death rule so that we can’t leave. We’re fed the hell up, Lex.”

The death rule was simply that. Nobody was allowed to leave. Your only escape was the dark void of death. It was more or less a pre-prison for gangsters.

Unless, you ran away. In Basilisk history, you were the only successful runaway.

You simply watched in amusement, feeling a wound in you healed. Never in a million years would you have imagined a dream like this come true. It was better than anything you’d ever hoped for. It’s over.

“I don’t do last words,” Mark mocked, cocking his gun. “Goodbye, cousin.”

The sound of a gunshot resonated throughout the hall, and Alexander dropped to the floor in vanquish.

“It really is over,” Lisa repeated. Until then, you hadn’t realized that you’d said those words aloud. You were out of your body.

You grabbed her hand. “Let’s get out of here?”

Lisa cocked a brow. “What about lover boy?”

You gaped. “You know?”

“Oh, please. Mark tells us a lot about you. He acts like we’ve never met you before. It’s hard to get him to shut up sometimes,” Lisa scoffed.

Mark talks about me. That made your heart swell with emotion, but you pushed them aside. “I’m still mad at him. Let’s go before he makes me change my mind.”

Giggling, Lisa told you, “Lead the way.”

You did as told, leading her outside. For now, you pushed your worries away. They would return, but you were simply glad to connect with an old friend for the meantime. A very special one at that.

Hand in hand, you brought Lisa to one of the balconies. The wind whipped through her hair as you both faced the city. The memories were a mixture of pained and blissful. They stung your heart, yet filled you with impalpable joy.

After a moment of silence, Lisa whispered, “You never said goodbye.”

“I know.”

She whirled around to face you, a pained expression on her face. “That hurt.”

“I know,” you said, frowning. “And I’m sorry.”

Lisa faced the early morning city again. Like looking at you would be her breaking point. “You did what you had to do. I can’t hold that against you. I was just scared that you’d forget me.”

You called her name austerely and slightly rolled up your shirt, then spoke like you were delivering a speech, “I carry a piece of you with me everyday. Every time I look in the mirror, I think of you. Pain is temporary, but this scar is forever. It is a constant reminder of you and what our friendship means to me. I can’t forget that.”

Lisa gazed at your scar fondly. She remembered how you got it like it was yesterday. You jumped in front of a bullet to save her life. You were so goddamn stupid, but damn did she love you for it.

She pulled you into a hug. And you smiled.

“I moved on,” Lisa mentioned once she pulled away. “I found someone.”

Your eyes widened, your smile broadened. “Who is she?”

Lisa smiled involuntarily at the thought of her mystery woman. Once upon a time, she smiled at you like that. “Jennie.”

“No way,” you said, jaw dropping.

“Yes, way,” Lisa smirked. “Love always finds a way. Sometimes the one meant for you is the person you’d least expect. It’s ironic, isn't it?”

You groaned, “You’re telling me.”

Lisa studied you. Never in a million years would she have imagined that the two of you would be having a conversation like this, but she was content to hear your voice again. At one point, she thought she’d lost you forever. “You love him.”

It was clear who ‘him’ was. You sighed out, “I do. So much. I don’t know what to do with myself.”

Lisa snickered, but suddenly became stern and said, “Mark didn’t do any of this to hurt you. He would never. He was scared half to death when Renjun called and said you’d jumped out of a car to come here. As crazy as that sounds, I’m not surprised. You’re full of crazy.”

You laughed lightheartedly. “I’ve done worse.”

“I know. Like, jumped in front of a bullet,” Lisa retorted, then continued. “Listen, that boy is head over heels in love with you. I would know. What he did back there wasn’t a part of the initial plan, but he’s in control of this whole scheme and we urged him to do what he thought was best. He knew you would hate him for this, but he wanted to protect you from Lex for good.”

The tears were coming back and you blinked them away. “Really?”

“It was hard to keep him from socking Lex in the jaw for talking down on you sometimes. He was ready to risk it all for you. That’s how much he loves you. Don’t punish him for that,” Lisa said, smiling ruefully. Then, she presented you with some levity. “Not for too long.”

You laughed like the two old friends you were. You never forgot what those days were like. To be together with people you considered family, you were happy. And now you were no longer forbidden to see each other.

Lisa patted your back. “Go get him.”

“Right now?” you asked, gaping in disbelief.

“Right now,” she repeated, memories of a morose Mark returning. “Any longer and I think he’ll fling himself off one of these balconies.”

“Oh, brother,” you sighed. “Will you be okay?”

“As long as you don’t leave me for another six years.”

You smiled and held out your pinky finger for her to intertwine with hers. “I won’t. I promise.”

Lisa locked pinkies with you. Then, she let you go for the second time and set you free.

You found Mark somberly glancing into the distance. His mood seemed to instantly lighten when the sound of you slumping beside him steered him from his reverie.

“Hi.”

Mark rubbed his neck. “Hey.”

“I’m sorry,” you told him apologetically. “I should have trusted you.”

Mark blurted, “What? No. I’m the one that should be sorry. I’ve been keeping secrets from you this whole time. I should have told you.”

“You’re right,” you replied. You switched on a dime, beginning to knock at his chest fiercely. “What were you thinking?”

He was hardly thinking. It was difficult - he couldn’t function knowing that your life was on the line. You being there meant he had to change his plans entirely because he refused to let anything happen to you. His heart was screaming when Renjun told him about the stunt you’d pulled. Above all else, all he wanted was for you to let him protect you. “I’m sorry, doll. Will a kiss make it better?”

You paused. Then, sang, “Not sure. Kiss me and find out.”

Mark shook his head in delight. “With pleasure.”

Mark enveloped your lips in a kiss. He kissed you like he’d never get the chance again. As if this was his last day to love and hold you, but also as if he hadn’t felt your touch in years. It was so indescribably passionate. The only way you could explain was that it felt like love. Until you met Mark, you thought that you’d been cursed with the inability to fall for someone else again.

When you’d both had your fill, you pulled away for good and asked, “But I am curious - you’re a cop and a gang member at the same time?”

Mark had been waiting for that one. He cradled you in his arms and replied smoothly, “My job in the gang is to be their eyes in law enforcement. Alongside the biking, we became heavily involved in drug trafficking. It’s my job to steer the police off course and ensure they don’t go looking into The Basilisks.”

“And that’s how you got here,” you added, the pieces coming together to form one big picture.

“Yup. I was assigned to look into Bloodlust. It’s no secret that this is where you hid and Lex wanted me to use this case to lure you out. At first, I intended to follow orders. But then I fell for you, baby. And I knew that only over my dead body would I let anything happen to you.”

“Romantic,” you purred. Then, you remembered something and your eyes filled with worry. “Have you seen Yuta?”

“He’s fine,” Mark assured. “They all are. They know this building well. That’s their advantage.”

You blew out a sigh of semi-relief. ”We have to come clean.”

Mark blinked. “Now?”

“Now or never.”

Mark slipped his fingers through yours and brought you to your feet. “Okay. Let’s tell them.”

You smiled. You didn’t want to hide Mark anymore. You wanted to profess your love for him from the rooftops. And you knew in your heart that he wanted to do the very same.

That was how you found yourself in Taeyong’s much larger office. Yet again, he stood alongside Yuta and Ten. It was a little frightening, but you wouldn’t let them unnerve you. You were bold in your love.

Lightheartedly, Yuta tried to lighten the mood with levity, “This is the infamous Markie.”

Mark shook his hand. “Dom Toretto.”

You cleared your throat. “Don’t mind him - he watches a lot of movies.”

Taeyong cut to the chase. “You disobeyed direct orders.”

You stiffened, knowing he was talking directly to you. You met his gaze and didn’t falter. “Yes.”

“And you were aware that you were disobeying direct orders - and of the punishment that shall follow.”

“That is correct.”

Taeyong arched his brow, amused by your boldness. It took guts to disobey the king of the empire. He sat and reclined in his seat and told you sternly, “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill both of you right now.”

The gun resting patiently on his desk did not go unnoticed by you, but you dug into your heels and held Mark’s arm firmly. You were honest. “I have none. I’ve disobeyed and deceived you while aware of the consequences. I apologize for that, but I won’t apologize for loving him and I won’t let you kill him without killing me first.”

Ten heaved a breath and took off his glasses, massaging his temple. Then, Yuta leapt up and shouted, “Yes! Run me my money!”

You blinked, only able to watch as Taeyong and Ten exasperatedly drew money from their pockets. Then, it hit you and you shrieked, “You bet money on me?”

“Damn right I did,” Yuta replied, not sparing you a glance as he counted his money.

Noticing the ridiculously perplexed looks on you and Mark’s faces, Ten explained, “Yuta’s had a sneaking suspicion that you were lying about the severity of your relationship with Mark. Jisung tried to tell us, but Taeyong and I thought he was biased because of how much you argue. Clearly not.”

Taeyong deadpanned, “Remind me not to make any more deals with either of you where money is concerned.”

Mark pulled you to his chest, smiling. Some things you just couldn’t hide. His love for you was one of them. “So, we’re off the hook?”

“I usually don't hesitate to punish people for defiance, but I’ll make an exception just this once,” Taeyong replied, smiling wryly. “I take it that your cousin’s gang is in your hands now. Don’t cause any trouble and you’re fine in my book.”

Mark nodded. He glanced down at you and knew that that wouldn’t be a problem. “Deal.”

That night, you and Mark danced in each other's arms, refusing to let go. It was like nothing could come in between you. You knew now that your love was worth the battle and the war. Love always finds a way, a dear friend had told you.

You asked over the music, “Wanna do something really crazy?”

Mark looked at you, eye’s screaming, “Yes!” He would do anything for you - give you the world if you wanted it. Instead of borderline professing his love for you and telling you things that you already knew, he asked, “Like what?”

“Let’s go to Vegas.”

Mark chortled. “That is kinda crazy.”

You argued, “Think about it - no one knows us there. It’ll just be me and you in a city full of people. Doesn’t that sound romantic?”

Mark hushed you and said, “Baby, please. I was already buying the plane tickets.”

You snickered. You knew you had Mark right where you wanted him. And it felt so goddamn good.

You and Mark stumbled out of the tattoo parlor. Given the long flight, you were utterly spent when you arrived, but the second you recharged you knew exactly what you wanted to do.

Get matching tattoos.

Initially, you thought it would have been difficult to convince Mark to get a tattoo with you. After all, they were permanent. But he was surprisingly willing and pleased with the results.

“To a lifetime and a half with you,” Mark told you, mounting the bike you’d left at the curbside of the parlor. You wanted to see how well he could drive one.

Grabbing the pink helmet he handed you, you beamed. Happiness made your heart beat and your blood circulate. “To a lifetime and a half with my Markie pooh,” you teased.

Mark rolled his eyes and wrapped your arms around his waist. “Hold on tight.”

You yelped when the motorbike jerked to life beneath you, and then you were soaring down the roads of Las Vegas, carefree and in love. Nobody could tell you anything when you were with the love of your life.

Love was the greatest weapon of all.

#mark smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #nct smut #mark lee x reader #nct imagines #mark lee imagines #mark lee smut #nct x reader #nct #nct scenarios

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mononijikayu · 1 month ago

Text

1-800-hot-n-fun — fushiguro toji.

"Hey, doll." Toji called out as you approached the exit, a hint of something serious in his tone for the first time. "What’s your number?" You turned around, flashing him a grin that was all playful mischief. "My number? Sure. It's 1-800-hot-n-fun, stranger." you teased, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you stepped closer to him.

GENRE: alternate universe — modern au;

WARNING/s: NSFW (R18+), Smut, AFAB! Reader, Romance, Age Gap (Reader is in Her 20s, Toji is in his 30s), Strangers to Potential Lovers, Pet Names (Doll, Stranger;), Profanity, Cursing, Stripping Clothes, Fingering, P to V Sex, Kissing, Making Out, Humor, Flirting, Teasing, Mention of Stripping, Mention of Body Parts, Mention of Sexual Acts, Mention of Smoking, Mention of Age Gap, Depiction of Bar Experience, Depiction of Sexual Acts, Depiction of Nudity, Depiction of Smoking;

WORDS: 3.8k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: lately i keep thinking about toji and how he's genuinely the type to have been someone who wanders into bars and places for fun before and after mamaguro. i think in a way, he's looking for a place to belong. i wanted to make a fun thought about that and as usual, in keeping with kinktober. anyway, i indulge myself to be his controversially young partner for shits and giggles while writing this. in any case, i hope you enjoy this!!! i love you all!! 🫶

ADDENDUM: another little gift - i've published a original story on my wattpad on my eleventh anniversary on the app. its like a little indulgence of mine which i worked on a long while ago. if you would like to read it, please click here!!! thank you so much!!! <3

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if you want to, tip! <3

IT WAS JUST A REGULAR FRIDAY NIGHT OUT. The club was alive with energy, lights flashing in rhythmic patterns that matched the heavy bass reverberating through your body. You had come out tonight to lose yourself in the music, to dance, to have fun—your favorite escape.

The moment you stepped onto the dance floor, you were in your element, moving with confidence and ease. You didn’t care about anything else, just the thrill of the moment. But then, you saw him.

Fushiguro Toji. But you didn’t know his name yet. The man who seemed to tower over everyone else, his presence impossible to ignore. He was older, easily a decade older than you, but there was something about him that pulled you in instantly.

You couldn’t look away. His rugged, confident demeanor was a sharp contrast to the carefree crowd around him. He was dressed sharply in that suit and coat. He was businessman, you like to think.

You can't help but watch his every move. He was beautiful. He wasn’t dancing like everyone else, just standing by the bar, watching, with that sharp, intense gaze that sent a thrill down your spine. He was trying to light a cigarette with that bright silver lighter with precision.

You wanted to approach him. An it was a good thing that you weren’t shy. It was obvious that he was older than you. But even with the age difference, you knew what you wanted, and right now, all you wanted was him.

Your pulse quickened, not from the music, but from the thought of getting closer to him. You danced your way through the crowd, your movements playful and enticing, knowing his eyes would eventually find you.

And they did.

His gaze locked onto you, and it was like the world narrowed down to just the two of you. Every sway of your hips, every flick of your hair, you made sure he was watching. You like trying to tease him like this. And surely enough, he was caught in your trap.

The music pulsed louder, but all you could feel was the heat building between you both, the silent pull that was undeniable. You watched as the smoke poured out of his lips, almost erotically. He looked at you in the eyes, a smirk on his lips. Oh, he’s enjoying playing games with you.

Without hesitation, you made your way over, bold and confident. The closer you got, the more you could see the rough edges of his jaw, the scar that gave him an air of danger, and those sharp green eyes that made your heart race. You leaned against the bar beside him, flashing him a playful smile.

"You don’t seem like the type to just stand around, stranger." you teased, loud enough to be heard over the music, your voice laced with flirtation.

Toji raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth squirming up into a smirk. His smoke tied through in his fingertips. "And you don’t seem like the type to be this bold," he shot back, his voice deep and rough, sending shivers through you.

You laughed, tossing your hair over your shoulder, feeling the electric tension between you thickening. "I like to party, kiss everybody, have a good time, stranger." you said, quoting the song playing in the background, letting the words roll off your tongue in a teasing, suggestive way. "But tonight, I’ve got my eyes on you."

He leaned in slightly, just enough that you could feel the heat of his body. "You sure you can handle that?" he asked, his voice dropping to a lower, more dangerous tone that made your heart skip a beat.

"Try me, stranger." you challenged, meeting his gaze head-on.

Without another word, he killed the light of his cigarette in the ashtray. He quickly grabbed your hand, pulling you away from the bar and into the shadows, out of the chaotic light of the dance floor but still close enough to feel the energy of the crowd. His grip was firm, possessive, and it made you crave more.

Pressed against the wall, the cool surface a sharp contrast to the heat radiating between the two of you, Toji’s body loomed over you, making you feel small in the best way. His hands rested on either side of your head, trapping you, but you weren’t scared. You wanted this.

The thrill of the chase, the excitement of being with someone older, someone who had an edge to him that made your pulse race with both excitement and danger.

"You’re too young for me, doll." he murmured, his eyes dark with desire as he leaned in closer, his lips just a breath away from yours. “You can’t be more than 20.”

"I’m a bit older than that. But that doesn't matter, doesn't it? I like what I want." you whispered back, your voice breathy with anticipation. "And I want you, stranger."

That was all it took. His lips crashed against yours, rough and demanding, as if he’d been holding back and finally let himself give in. The kiss was hot, intense, and full of raw energy, making your knees go weak as you clung to him.

And the taste, oh the rough taste of nicotine passing from you to him giving you a whiplash. His hands moved to your waist, gripping you tightly, pulling you flush against his body. The age gap, the club, the people around you—it all melted away, leaving only the heat between you.

You kissed him back just as fiercely, your fingers tangling in his dark hair, tugging him closer, wanting more. Every touch, every movement between you was electric, and you knew there was no turning back now.

"I like to kiss everybody." you whispered against his lips, teasing him with a grin as you broke the kiss for just a second before pulling him back in, your body pressed even tighter against his.

Toji chuckled lowly against your mouth, his hand sliding up your back, possessive and firm. "Guess you’ll be kissing only me tonight, doll." he growled, his voice sending a thrill through you.

Toji’s lips crashed into yours again, rougher this time, fueled by the undeniable heat between you both. It wasn’t gentle or sweet—it was a raw hunger that made your head spin.

His hands tightened on your waist, pulling you even closer until there was no space left between your bodies. You could feel the hardness of his muscles through his shirt, and it made your pulse race faster. His presence was overwhelming, and you loved every second of it.

Your fingers tangled in his dark hair, pulling him even closer, wanting more. His hands roamed your body with a rough possessiveness, sliding from your waist down to your hips, gripping you as if he didn’t want to let go. You could feel the power behind every touch, the way he held you like he owned you, and it made your body heat up in ways you hadn’t expected.

Toji broke the kiss for just a second, his lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "You’re playing a dangerous game, doll." he murmured, his voice rough and husky, laced with dark amusement. His breath was hot against your skin, and it made you shiver.

You tilted your head back slightly, giving him more access to your neck as he trailed hot kisses down the side of your throat. "Maybe I like it dangerous, stranger." you whispered, your voice breathy as you clung to him, feeling the tension in your body coil tighter with every kiss, every touch.

His lips hovered over the sensitive spot on your neck, and you gasped when he bit down softly, enough to leave a mark but not enough to hurt. It was possessive, a silent claim, and it made your body tremble with anticipation. You weren’t afraid—if anything, you wanted more of him. More of the rough edges, more of the heat that burned between you two like a wildfire.

"You’re gonna regret this, doll." he growled, but the way his hands slid down your body told you that he didn’t plan on stopping anytime soon. His grip tightened on your hips as he pulled you even closer, pinning you against the wall with his body.

"I doubt it, stranger." you teased, arching into him, feeling the tension between you build to an almost unbearable level.

The age gap, the danger, the intensity—it was all part of the thrill, and you craved it. Toji wasn’t like anyone you’d been with before, and that’s what made you want him even more. He was interesting, he was brutish, he was charming, he was rough and it all excites you. More than you hoped.

He kissed you again, harder this time, his hands roaming your body with a rough urgency that made you feel like he was claiming every inch of you. You kissed him back just as fiercely, letting him know that you weren’t backing down. You wanted this, wanted him, and nothing was going to stop you.

The music from the club pulsed around you, but it felt distant now, like it was just background noise to the heat between the two of you. The flashing lights only served to highlight the intensity of the moment, casting shadows and making everything feel more electric.

"Tell me what you want, doll." Toji growled against your lips, his hands sliding under your shirt, the heat of his touch searing your skin.

"I want you, stranger. Badly." you whispered, your voice breathy with desire. You looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, your lips brushing against his as you spoke. "I’ve wanted you since I saw you."

Toji’s eyes darkened at your words, and without hesitation, he lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed you harder against the wall. He doens't care who comes through the door of the toilets. You're more what matters right now. He wants you so badly. And he'll claim you, no matter what.

You could feel his lips were on yours again, the kiss deep and hungry, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. You could feel the strength of his body against yours, the way he moved with an intensity that made your head spin.

"You don’t know what you’re getting into, doll." he muttered between kisses, his voice rough and filled with a dark promise. His hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place as his lips moved from your mouth to your neck again, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that made you gasp.

"Then show me." you challenged, your body arching into him, craving more of his touch. You wanted all of it—the heat, the danger, the thrill of being with someone older, someone who wasn’t afraid to take control.

Toji growled low in his throat, his hands tightening on your body as he kissed you harder, the intensity between you reaching a fever pitch. The air was thick with desire, the tension almost too much to bear as you clung to him, your fingers gripping his shoulders for support.

Every kiss, every touch was filled with a fiery passion that made your heart race and your body ache for more. Toji was dangerous, unpredictable, and that only made you want him more. Nothing else mattered anymore when it comes to this—all that mattered was the heat between you, the way his hands roamed your body like he owned it, and the way his lips left a trail of fire everywhere they touched.

The door to the club bathroom slammed shut behind you, muffling the pounding music outside. Toji's mouth was on yours before you could even catch your breath, his hands rough and needy as they gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him. The heat between you was intoxicating, every kiss deeper, every pull more frantic.

"You’re so fucking hot, doll." Toji growled against your lips, his voice low and gravelly. His hands slid up your sides, yanking at your shirt, fingers fumbling with the fabric. "I can’t get enough of you. Y'r too sweet, too good."

You didn’t answer—your breath caught in your throat as his hands found their way under your skirt, fingers brushing against your core. You moaned, arching into him, tugging at his shirt with equal desperation.

"Take it off already." you panted, voice breathless as you tried to strip him bare, needing to feel more of him, all of him.

"Impatient, huh?" he teased, his lips curving into a wicked grin as he shoved his shirt over his head. But before you could respond, his fingers were inside you, two thick digits stretching you out, making you gasp as your head fell back against the tiled wall.

"That’s it, pretty doll." Toji whispered into your ear, his breath hot against your skin as his fingers pumped in and out of you, finding a rhythm that made your body hum with pleasure. "Ride my fingers. I wanna feel you come."

Your hips moved on their own, grinding down against his hand as he curled his fingers just right, his thumb brushing against your clit in slow, torturous circles. You whimpered, your hands clutching at his broad shoulders, trying to stay grounded as waves of pleasure started to crash over you.

"Fuck, fuck……" you gasped, barely able to hold back the moans that spilled from your lips. His mouth found your neck, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses that sent shivers down your spine, the sensation overwhelming as he worked you closer and closer to the edge.

"You’re so tight, doll." he rasped, his voice thick with desire, his lips trailing down to your collarbone. "God, I love how you feel. Come on, let go of it all for me."

And you did. Your body seized as pleasure exploded inside you, your vision blurring as you came, trembling against him, your slick coating his fingers. You felt like you were floating, barely able to catch your breath as you came down from the high.

Toji grinned against your skin, his fingers slowly slipping out of you as he brought them to his lips, eyes locked on yours as he sucked your slick from them, tasting you with a low, satisfied groan. He was smug about it all, and all you could do was stare at him.

"Mm, you taste even better than I imagined, doll." he murmured, his voice thick with hunger as he pressed his body closer, his lips ghosting over yours. "But we’re not done yet, doll. Not even close."

His words hung heavy in the air, and you could feel your pulse quicken at the way he looked at you—dark, possessive, like he had all the time in the world to wreck you. Toji pressed his body closer to yours, his chest warm and solid against your trembling form. The grin on his lips was dangerous, teasing, as if daring you to give in again.

"You think you’re ready for more?" he asked, his voice a low rumble as his fingers trailed down your thigh, sending shivers up your spine. His touch was deliberate, lingering, as if savoring every second. "Because I’m not stopping until you’re begging me to."

You swallowed hard, your body still buzzing from the aftermath of your climax. His fingers, slick with your release, grazed your skin, making you twitch with sensitivity. The throbbing heat between your legs hadn’t faded—it only seemed to grow with every word he said, every look he gave you.

"Stranger...…" you breathed, your voice coming out in a shaky whisper. You could barely think straight, let alone form a coherent sentence. The hunger in his eyes was relentless, and it sent a surge of desire straight to your core. You wanted him—needed him—and it was almost maddening how much. "Please."

"I know, doll." he muttered, his lips ghosting over yours in a featherlight touch that sent a shockwave of need through you. "I know exactly what you need."

His hands moved swiftly, fingers curling around the waistband of your panties, tugging them down before you even had a chance to protest—not that you would. He pressed his hips against yours, and you could feel how hard he was through his pants, the outline of his length pressing into your stomach.

He chuckled, low and predatory, as he kissed you again, this time rougher, more demanding. You were lost in it, in him, and before you knew it, your hands were at his belt, fumbling with the buckle.

"You’re driving me crazy, stranger." you muttered against his lips, your fingers finally unfastening his belt and yanking at the zipper.

His pants dropped to the floor, and Toji wasted no time, his large hands grabbing the backs of your thighs, lifting you off the ground in one swift motion. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist as he pinned you harder against the wall, his mouth never leaving yours.

"You’re the one driving me fucking insane, doll." he groaned, his voice rough with barely controlled restraint. His hand found your heat again, teasing your entrance with the head of his cock, but not pushing in just yet, savoring the moment as he brushed against your swollen folds. "You just feel too good, yeah, huh.”

"Then what are you waiting for?" you whispered, your voice breathless, your nails digging into his shoulders as you rocked your hips, trying to close the agonizing distance between you.

Toji grinned wickedly, his eyes flashing with desire. "Patience won't you, doll?"

His hand gripped your hip, positioning you just right before, with one hard thrust, he pushed inside you, stretching you in ways that made you gasp. The sudden fullness left you breathless, your walls tightening around him as you clung to his broad shoulders.

"Fuck!" you both cursed at the same time, the sensation of him filling you sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. His forehead pressed against yours as he stilled for a moment, allowing you to adjust to the delicious stretch.

"You feel so good, doll." he rasped, his breath hot against your lips, eyes dark with lust as he began to move, slow at first, savoring the way your body responded to him. "So tight. I’m gonna make you come again—over and over until you can’t take it anymore."

You moaned as he picked up the pace, each thrust harder and deeper, hitting all the right spots. His name fell from your lips like a prayer, your head falling back against the wall as you surrendered to the pleasure, completely at his mercy.

"That’s it, that’s—oh." Toji groaned, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he pounded into you, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the cramped bathroom. "Give it to me—fuck, you’re so perfect."

Your vision blurred as you felt yourself nearing the edge again, every thrust pushing you closer to your breaking point. The world outside ceased to exist—all you could feel was him, the heat between you, the way he filled you so completely.

"Come for me, doll." he whispered, his voice thick and commanding as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. "Come on, I know you’re close."

It was all you needed. Your body tightened around him, your nails digging into his back as your second orgasm crashed over you, harder than the first. You cried out his name, your body trembling as waves of pleasure pulsed through you.

Toji followed right after, groaning low in your ear as he thrust into you one last time, spilling inside you. His body shuddered against yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still, the two of you lost in each other, breathing heavily as the aftermath of your passion washed over you.

He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, still holding you against the wall, both of you breathless. Toji has never felt like this before. Not for any person he's ever encountered. He felt hot. Too hot inside and out. And he wanted more. He wanted to be consumed by you more.

"Damn, doll…." he murmured with a lazy grin, pulling back slightly to look at you. "I knew you’d feel good, but that…"

You smirked, still panting, your arms draped loosely around his neck. "Yeah?" you whispered, feeling the aftershocks of your climax still coursing through you.

Toji chuckled, his grin widening as he kissed you again, slow and deliberate this time. "Yeah. And next time, we’re not stopping until you beg me to."

As the haze of pleasure slowly lifted, you both took a moment to catch your breath. Toji's body still pressed close to yours, the air heavy with the scent of sweat and lust. But the reality of your surroundings began to sink in, and with a mischievous grin, you reached for your discarded clothes, the remnants of your heated moment lingering in the small, cramped bathroom.

You could feel the evidence of your encounter still dripping down your thighs as you slipped your panties back on, the sensation sending a rush of satisfaction through you. Toji watched you, his eyes dark and satisfied, a lazy grin curling his lips as he pulled his pants up, fastening his belt. His gaze lingered on you, like he was already planning the next time he’d have you pinned up against another wall.

"You good?" he asked, his voice low and gruff as he slipped his shirt back on. He was still watching you with that same predatory look, like he wasn’t quite done yet.

You winked at him, unable to suppress the playful smirk tugging at your lips. "Better than good, stranger." you teased, smoothing down your skirt as you finished adjusting your clothes.

Toji’s eyes darkened again, clearly ready for round two, but before he could make a move, you brushed past him, opening the door and stepping back into the dimly lit hallway of the club.

As you both strolled out of the bathroom, you could still feel him leaking inside you, a delicious reminder of what just happened. You glanced over your shoulder at him, the corner of your lips quivering in amusement. His gaze hadn’t left you for a second, his eyes trailing your every move.

"Hey, doll." Toji called out as you approached the exit, a hint of something serious in his tone for the first time. "What’s your number?"

You turned around, flashing him a grin that was all playful mischief. "My number? Sure. It's 1-800-hot-n-fun, stranger." you teased, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you stepped closer to him.

Before he could react, you grabbed him by the collar, pulling him down to kiss him roughly, your lips crashing against his in a heated, final goodbye kiss. You winked at him when you finished, patting his shoulder softly.

He grinned against your lips, his hands finding your waist again as if he couldn’t help himself. But before things could heat up again, you pulled back, giving him a coy smile. "Check your pocket, stranger." you whispered, your voice low and sultry.

With a smirk, you turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd of the club without another word. Toji’s eyes followed you until you were out of sight, his lips still curved in amusement as he slipped a hand into his pocket.

When he pulled out the crumpled piece of paper, his grin widened as he read your phone number scrawled in bold letters. "Looks like she’s not done with me after all, huh?" he muttered under his breath, tucking the paper back into his pocket with a satisfied smirk.

Toji chuckled to himself, his mind already racing with the thought of calling you up for another round of fun. "Guess I’ll be making that call real soon."

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ktownshizzle · 1 month ago

Text

Terms & Conditions | Chapter 4

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female reader

Genre: Fluff, eventual smut, co-workers to lovers, office romance, idol!au

Chapter Warnings: MC is actin’ a fool (she’s just a little conflicted guys, don't be mad), angst if you squint, second-hand embarrassment, if there are mistakes please ignore them I’m still editing, first kiss and it’s hawt and it's with this yoongi. jfc~!

Word count: 5.6k (approx. 20 mins to read)

Posting date: October 23, 2024

Notes: This would be my last quick update for a while. Next chapter will be out in 3 weeks time earliest. In the meantime, enjoy~

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Masterlist

Turns out, you actually did have ramen.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this. The whole night had been building to something else. The tension between you and Yoongi had been thicc, simmering for weeks, magnified in every stolen glance, every knowing smile, every deliberate touch.

But all of that changed the moment you stepped inside your apartment. Let’s back track a bit.

You fumbled with your keys, taking at least three tries longer than usual to unlock the door. Your heart was racing, Yoongi’s presence behind you was like a furnace. He must’ve noticed your nerves because he placed his hands gently on your shoulders, trying to soothe you, but it only made you more conscious.

Finally, you made it inside.

Too flustered to even turn on the lights, the dim glow from the kitchen cast long shadows, making the space feel smaller, more intimate. Wordlessly, you both kicked off your shoes and hung up your coats.

“Ramen, huh?” Yoongi teased, his voice low, the smirk practically audible. He wasn’t fooled by the offer. You both knew what ‘ramen’ meant. But for some reason, you were acting like a complete idiot.

“Y-Yeah,” you stammered, bolting to the kitchen as if the pots and pans could save you. “We could actually eat ramen. I, uh... have some.”

Yoongi didn’t reply immediately, but you heard his slow, deliberate footsteps following behind. That sound alone made your pulse race faster. You yanked open cabinets with more force than necessary, the clattering of dishes betraying your current state of disarray. Grabbing the ramen packets, you held them up like a shield. “I have shin ramyeon, jin ramen, buldak—what’s your favorite?”

When you turned around, Yoongi was leaning against the counter, watching you with a quiet, amused smile. “You’re nervous,” he observed. No shit, Sherlock!

You shook your head, denying it, even though you weren’t fooling anyone—not even yourself. A pack of ramen just fell on your foot. You bend over to retrieve it, and when you stand back up, Yoongi is in front of you, hands outstretched to take the three other packets from your arms and place them on the counter.

The way he was looking at you sent shivers down your spine. You were a ball of yarn, slowly unraveling under this cat’s playful hands. You gulped, turning back to run the pot under the tap.

“Okay,” Yoongi said from behind you, clearly stifling a laugh. “Ramen it is, then.”

You exhaled deeply as you heard him make his way to the living room. You peeped from behind your shoulder. He’s checking out some of the photos from a low shelf, a small smile on his lips.

Fuck the pot’s overflowing. Hastily, you closed the faucet, poured out some of the water, and brought the pot to the stove.

“Where’s the bathroom?” he asked, his tone casual.

You waved a hand vaguely toward the hallway without even looking, trying to avoid eye contact with him as much as possible. “Just down there.”

And that’s when you messed up. Because after that, everything changed.

When he came back, something was off. He looked... discombobulated. His face caught somewhere between amusement and disbelief.

“What?” you asked, sprinkling dehydrated vegetables from the Shin Ramyun pack into the pot. “What happened?”

Yoongi tilted his head, biting back a grin. “Your room… it’s, uh, very...”

It took a second, but then it hit you. Hard.

“Oh no...” Your stomach dropped. You are the biggest idiot of all time.

He hadn’t gone to the bathroom. He went to Chae’s room. Chae, your BTS-obsessed best friend, whose room is practically a shrine to Yoongi and his bandmates. Posters, merch, plushies, framed photos—everything. Depending on her mood, Yoongi might even be the featured member on her duvet.

“Oh my God,” you breathed, horrified. “You didn’t—”

“I did,” Yoongi confirmed, voice full of barely contained laughter. He pulled out a barstool and sat down. “Didn’t know you were ARMY.”

“Okay, hang on.” You raised your palms in defense, scrambling to reason. How can you explain this without offending him? “No, I’m not ARMY. Don’t get me wrong. I like you—uh, I mean, I like BTS. But that’s not my room.”

Yoongi nodded, a finger lodged between his teeth to bite back his amusement at your rambling. “I’m just teasing. I saw the neon sign with Chae’s name. Couldn’t miss it.” He shrugs, “Just wasn’t expecting to see more of Jungkook-ah tonight. Chae really loves those Calvin Klein ads, huh?”

You buried your face in your hands, peeking through your fingers. “I’m so sorry.”

Yoongi shook his head, reaching for your wrists, gently pulling your hands away so he could see you. “Why are you apologizing?”

You stared at him meekly, voice tiny. “I dunno…”

“It’s not a crime. Besides…”

“Besides what?”

He grinned, resting his chin on his hand. “I got you to admit something, at least.”

You blinked, confused. “Admit what?”

His grin widened. “That you like me—I mean BTS, you like BTS,” he teased, repeating your earlier words. You were mortified all over again.

You groaned helplessly, turning your back to him.

His cute, throaty laugh somehow made you feel a little less embarrassed—but also made your heart race for an entirely different reason.

You heard the crinkle of ramen packets being opened, and when you turned back around, Yoongi was standing there, eyes glinting mischievously behind the steam of the boiling water.

“This ramen’s gonna be fuckin’ good. I can already tell.”

The evening takes on a different rhythm after that, the heat no longer crackling with the same intensity, but still simmering beneath the surface, like the hot broth you scooped into ceramics for you and Yoongi to enjoy.

You both sit on the couch, soup bowls on hand, laughing about the absurdity of walking into Chae’s room, talking about anything that isn’t the weight you’ve both been carrying. Yoongi leans back, stretching one arm along the cushions behind you, the space between you narrowing with each quiet moment.

The conversation fades, and the silence that follows feels more like a prelude to another conversation that needs to be had. His fingers graze your shoulder before curling around it, pulling you gently toward him. You don’t pull away. Instead, you lean in, letting his warmth seep into you, feeling the quiet shift between you.

It’s not the same moment you’d have expected earlier, but it feels real, steady. And maybe that’s better. Maybe this is what you actually need. For now.

“There’s something here, isn’t there?” he asks softly, like he’s testing the waters.

“Yeah,” you reply, the truth rolling out without hesitation. You inhale sharply, the reality of the moment catching up to you. “There is.” You exhale, saying the next phrase almost regrettably. “But there’s also the NDA. If anyone finds out... I could lose my job.”

Yoongi’s grip tightens, his thumb brushing slow circles on your shoulder. “I know,” he says gently, almost apologetically. “I don’t want you to get hurt. I’d never risk that.”

You look up at him, really look, and it’s all there—the restraint, the careful way he’s holding himself back, waiting for you to lead. You can see the desire in his vision, the way his body leans just slightly into yours, the way his focus lingers on your lips and stays there. He wants you, but he’s not going to push.

“I can’t think straight when you look at me like that,” you whisper, the words slipping out before you can stop them. Why did you say that? It feels dangerous, like you’ve just given up a secret you weren’t ready to share.

“You think I can?” he chuckles softly, tipping his head back toward the ceiling, exhaling a frustrated “shit” like he’s trying to release the tension hanging between you.

“Is this a bad idea, Yoongi?” you ask, looking down on your lap, scraping the dry bits of skin on one finger, just something else to focus on apart from his face.

Yoongi shifts closer, his body coaxing yours until you melt against him. His arms circle you, wrapping you in comfort, and you let him. Of course, you do. 'Cause it feels so damn good. He feels so damn good. You didn’t realize how touch-starved you are til this moment. Your arms quickly find your way around his body, too, and you revel in the satisfaction it brings.

“How about this,” he murmurs after a beat, his lips brushing the top of your head. “Let’s take some time to think about it. We don’t have to decide anything right now.”

You nod, resting your cheek against his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath you. He means it. He’s giving you the space, the choice—and that’s enough for now.

When Yoongi finally stands to leave, the atmosphere is a little lighter, still buoyant with potential. He pauses at the door, holding your hand just a little longer than necessary, his thumb brushing over your skin before he speaks.

“I won’t be in the office next week. I’ve got some things to take care of. But, can I invite you over to my place next Saturday?”

“Yeah,” you answer without hesitation. It feels like the easiest answer you’ve ever given.

Yoongi reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone, passing it to you without a word. You take it, knowing exactly what he wants—what’s long overdue—and type your number into it before giving it back.

Riding on a surge of courage, you rise up onto your tiptoes, and press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. Your hands find each other again, and the soft squeeze he does grounds you both in the moment. The kiss—it was more like a peck—is gentle, brief, but it feels like a promise. Unspoken, but understood. You’re not ready to explore it fully, not yet, but it’s gonna come.

You pull away and catch the moment when his eyes slowly open. “Good night,” he whispers.

“Good night,” you reply, your hand lingering in his until it naturally falls away as he steps back, walking backward into the hallway.

The door clicks shut, and you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, feeling both lighter and heavier all at once. Whatever just happened between you—it’s real. And now, you decide where it leads.

Not a minute after he leaves, your phone pings.

Unknown: 📍[Address] Unknown: Can’t wait for Saturday. Good night, beautiful.

“RISE AND SHINE, SLUT!!!”

Chae bursts into your apartment like a tornado, her voice echoing through the space as she strides in, bags of coffee and donuts in tow. It’s barely 9 a.m., and she’s already charged with energy. You glance up from the kitchen where you're unloading the dishwasher, the clatter of dishes nearly drowned out by her entrance.

She marches straight toward you, tossing the bags onto the counter. “Alright, spill. What happened? On a scale of one to ten: how good was the tongue technology?” She’s practically vibrating, eyebrows wiggling suggestively.

You roll your eyes but can’t help the grin that stretches on your lips. “The tongue technology was…” You pause dramatically, just to watch her lean in. “Nothing happened.”

Chae’s face drops, as she flops onto your couch. “What?! That’s impossible. Nothing?”

“Nothing,” you confirm, continuing to clear the dishes, the clang of silverware punctuating your words. “You kinda had something to do with it, actually.”

She bolts upright, brows raised. “Wait, what did I do?”

You shake your head, trying to hold back laughter. “Well, he needed to use the bathroom, but…”

The way she looks horror-stricken is hilarious as she pieces it together. “No!!! Shut the fuck up.”

“Yep,” you say, biting your lip to keep from laughing as you lean against the counter. “He went into your Magic Shop.”

“NOOOOOOO!!!” Chae wails, dramatically falling off the couch and onto the floor, writhing like she’s physically in pain. You can’t hold it in anymore and burst into laughter as she flails on your living room floor, her face scrunched in pure mortification.

You finish your story, shaking your head. “Yup. So, there he was, just trying to take a piss, and instead, he was greeted by all of his own face staring back at him. Honestly, the fact that he didn’t run screaming is a miracle. I for sure thought he would think we’re some psycho duo who lured him in our den to murder him and sell his body parts in the black market.”

Chae sits up, groaning. “Oh my god, I am so sorry. I can’t believe—fuck.”

You wave her off, still grinning. “It’s fine. We ended up eating ramen and just… hanging out.”

“Being the world’s worst cockblock was not in my 2024 bingo card. Did I fuck it all up?”

You wince, wiping your hands on a dish towel and tossing it onto the counter. “It was awkward for, like, five minutes. But no, not really.”

“But…” Chae tilts her head, zeroing in on the shift in your tone. “You’re low-key panicking, aren’t you?”

You sigh, crossing your arms and leaning against the counter. “God, I know it sounds ridiculous! I’ve been losing it, thinking I’m just, like, this weird work wife and he’s just stringing me along for shits. And now that I actually know he’s into me too, I thought I’d feel better, but I’m not–I’m still freaking out.”

Chae watches you, letting you get it all out.

“What are people going to say if they find out? That I seduced him—just like they thought I would? It’s insulting and mortifying! I don't want to be that girl. And more than just office gossip, there’s that NDA hanging over my head. I could actually get sued…”

“First of all, that whore Danbi can suck it,” Chae says bluntly, shrugging as she hops up from the floor and grabs a donut. “And honestly, babe, let Yoongi pay the fines even before shit hits the fan. He’s got enough money.”

“Be for real, Chae.”

“Girl, if he’s serious about you, he needs to handle it. Make it known to his company that you’re not some random hookup. He’s gotta deal with that shit.”

“It’s too early for ultimatums,” you argue. “We’re not even officially anything yet.”

Chae raises an eyebrow. “You’re something. I saw the way he was looking at you, all heart eyes. And don’t think I didn’t see you guys playing handsies under the table. You make me sick.”

Your lips form a straight line, trying to hold back a smile, but you can’t help it. “He’s so… ugh. I like him.”

Chae grins, sitting beside you. “I get it. You want it to be real, but you’re scared of the shitstorm that comes with it.”

Chae gets it. This is why she’s your bestfriend. “Exactly,” you sigh. “It’s just… complicated now.”

Chae reaches over, squeezing your hand gently. “Look, you’ll figure it out. Don’t let fear stop you from seeing where this goes. You’ll never know if you don’t try.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, nodding slightly. “Yeah… I guess.”

Chae stands, stretching dramatically before heading for her room. “And next time? I’ll make sure my room is locked.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Yeah, it’s a real boner killer.”

“Funny, I’ve never had any issues in there.”

“Get the fuck outta here.”

“Love you!” she sings, grinning as she enters her room.

“Love you too!”

You’ve been on edge for days, but now, standing in front of Yoongi’s apartment, that nervous energy shifts into something else—anticipation. The building’s lobby feels imposing, the security guard's request for two forms of ID more than enough to stir your nerves. Once they verify your information, you're ushered to the elevator and as you ascend there’s a buzz beneath your skin.

The moment the doors slide open, Yoongi is already there, leaning casually against the doorway, waiting just for you. His smile is welcoming, but the hug he wraps you in says everything he doesn’t—soft, steady, and a little too tight, like he's been needing this as much as you have.

“Hi,” you say when he releases you, suddenly feeling all shades of shy.

“Hi,” he replies, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he pulls you inside. The door behind you slides shut with a quiet whirr, the lock clicking into place as if on cue.

Yoongi’s apartment in Hannam feels sleek and modern, but with a lived-in vibe. The couch is slightly disheveled, pillows piled at one end, and a throw blanket is casually tossed across the cushions, like he’d been napping before you arrived. The soft glow of a three-wick candle flickers from the console, its scent filling the space with something comforting, like freshly laundered sheets—a blend of clean cotton and subtle sweetness that wraps around you as you step inside.

He looks so hot, it should be a crime. He’s dressed comfortably, but he still looks effortlessly sexy. It’s kind of unfair, actually. The oversized black hoodie hangs loosely, and the faded jeans cling to his frame, the rips at the knees offering a glimpse of skin. Scandalous!

What really catches your eye, though, are the silver hoops glinting in his ears—one thicker, hanging low, and the other daintier, nestled in his second lobe. You’ve never seen him wear jewelry before, and the sight of him in it now sends a thrill through you, a quiet gesture that he put thought into today.

You made an effort too, choosing a lacy purple top that peaks from under your white zip-up hoodie, paired with those jeans—the ones that always make you feel a little extra confident. Standing here, you hope it shows.

He ushers you to the kitchen where the comforting smell of suyuk simmering on the stove greets you.

“You can stay here, or chill at the couch,” he says, casually slinging a kitchen towel over his shoulder. “Might need a few more minutes with this.”

“I don’t mind. I think I want to stay here,” you do a tiny hop to sit on the counter, giving you a great view of the yummy meal prepared by this equally delicious man. Honestly, you’re still wondering how this became your life.

The pot of suyuk is covered to stew for minutes more. Yoongi pulls the sleeves of his black hoodie to his elbows and grins. “Wine?”

You nod.

“Rosé, ok?”

You nod again, watching the way his hand moves with practiced ease, filling a glass in one smooth motion. He passes you your glass and picks up his.

Yoongi leans against the counter opposite you. “You know,” he starts, a playful glint in his gaze, “you’re really annoying.”

The heck?! You quirk an eyebrow, bringing the glass to your lips. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah, seriously,” he continues, stepping just a little closer, “you’ve been stuck in my head all week, and it’s kind of a problem.”

A nervous laugh escapes you, but you try to keep it light. “Oh, I’m the annoying one? You’re the one who brought that loud-ass mechanical keyboard to work.”

He pouts, the playful edge you’re used to shining through. “Hey, you never said anything about that.” He moves again, this time standing directly in front of you. “But I’m serious.”

Your pulse quickens as he lowers his voice, glancing down to his wine glass, before he looks back up at you. “I’ve been thinking about you. A lot.”

The words hit you, sending a flurry of butterflies in your stomach. You set your glass down on the counter, beside where he sets his, feeling the energy shift between you. “You’re just saying that because I’m here, in your fancy apartment, drinking your fancy wine.”

Yoongi goes to step into the space between your legs, and they instinctively part to let him closer. “Nah, you know it’s more than that.”

Goddamn. Your knees brush against his hips as he inches closer, his hands coming to rest lightly by your thighs, squeezing it lightly.

“We… we probably shouldn’t,” you whisper, though your fingers are already resting on his arms, curling lightly around the sleeves of his hoodie, keeping him close. “Not until we’ve talked.”

“I know.” He pauses, searching your face, but instead of withdrawing, his hands slide up to cradle your waist fully. “But we both know we want to.”

You bite your lip, looking at him. “Yeah, and that’s exactly the problem, isn’t it? Why does this have to be complicated?”

Yoongi’s hands tighten slightly, firm but still careful, as if he’s waiting for you to tell him to stop. “Things are always complicated,” he says quietly, his voice softer now, almost vulnerable. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not worth trying.”

You exhale slowly, feeling his words settle over you. His forehead drops forward slightly, almost brushing yours. All you can focus on is him—how close he is, the feeling of his body, the steady rhythm of his breath.

“You’re so annoying, you know that?” you murmur, the corner of your mouth quirking up.

“Why?” His face is dangerously close to yours now, the question hanging in the air between you.

“Because I can’t get you out of my head either.”

Yoongi’s breath catches, a soft chuckle slipping out, but it’s not mocking—it’s almost relieved, like he’s been waiting for you to admit it. “Well, at least we’re on the same page.”

He leans in, his nose brushing lightly against yours, and for a moment, you think this is it—he’s going to kiss you. In fact, you could close the distance right now, but instead, you reach up, flicking his forehead with your fingers.

“Ow!” He jerks back, rubbing his forehead with a mock-offended expression. “What the hell was that for?”

“For making this complicated,” you smirk, the moment breaking just enough for you to breathe again.

“Right, blame me.”

“Well you’re the idol.” You laugh. The air feels less heavy now—more like a promise than a problem.

“We’ll figure it out,” he says after a moment, his voice low, serious again, palms going back on your legs, moving them like he is smoothing out the fabric.

“Yeah?” You thread the strings of his hoodie on your fingers.

He looks at you again, a soft grin tugging at his lips. “Yeah. But for now, I’m perfectly fine with being annoying if it means you’ll stick around.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t hide the smile. “You know I will.”

His grin widens, playful again, but there’s something softer underneath. “Good,” he murmurs, leaning in just a little with a lopsided grin. “Me too.”

Dinner was amazing. The suyuk was cooked to perfection–soft, juicy, and subtly seasoned. Each slice melted in your mouth. Yoongi served it with four kinds of banchan, all prepared by his eomma and sent from Daegu that very morning. You don’t ask if it was specially because you were coming over, but you let yourself believe that for a while, even though it was presumptuous.

As he clears the table (refusing to let you help in any way), you wander to the window in his living room. Your mind wonders how Yoongi can be this perfect, really. First, he is handsome. Second, he is kind. Third, he smells wonderful. Fourth, he can cook. As you catalog all his wonderful traits in your brain to rival the Dewey Decimal system, his voice cuts through your thoughts.

“You ok?”

“Yeah,” you smile, though still a bit dazed. “Thank you for cooking.”

“My pleasure.”

Yoongi proffers you a glass of wine, and your fingers brush against his for just a moment—long enough to feel the spark that’s been igniting between you all night.

The apartment feels spacious now, the soft, jazzy tune from the record player filling the room with a smoky, lazy rhythm.

You take a sip, admiring the view through the enormous window, the Han River stretching out beneath you like a sea of shimmering lights. The city skyline flickers, alive and distant, and for a moment, it’s as if the two of you are in your own world, above everything else.

Yoongi steps up beside you, the closeness between your bodies almost unbearable. He doesn’t say anything at first, just stands next to you as you both look out at the city.

For a while, neither of you speaks, letting the silence stretch out. It’s not uncomfortable. If anything, it feels like the calm before something inevitable, something you both know is coming but aren’t quite ready to face.

“Beautiful view,” you murmur, more to fill the quiet than anything.

“Yeah,” Yoongi replies softly. “Gorgeous.”

“But you’ve seen it a hundred times.”

And then, you realize his gaze has been on you all along. “Not talking about the Han.”

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, catching the subtle curve of his lips. Your heart skips, and you look back out at the lights, trying to focus on something else.

“You know,” you start, your voice quieter now, “it’s dangerous spending this much time together.”

Yoongi shrugs, face indifferent. “I’m not worried about it.”

He sets his glass down on the windowsill, taking yours, too as he steps closer. “Are you?”

You hesitate for just a second, your pulse quickening. “Maybe.”

The city lights shimmer beneath you, but all you can focus on is him—on the way his eyes linger on your face, the force between you growing with every second. You don’t know who moves first, but suddenly his hands are on your waist, guiding you gently closer.

You freeze for just a moment, your breath catching as his fingers move underneath your hoodie to brush against the fabric of your top. It’s soft, barely there, but the electricity it sends through you is anything but subtle.

He leans in, his lips dangerously close to your ear, “I’ve been thinking about this all night.”

You feel your resolve waver, your heart pounding in your chest. You feel yourself melting onto him, your back now flush against his chest. The soft melody from the record player wraps around you, and before you know it, you’re swaying, the two of you moving in a slow, lazy rhythm.

You rest your head against his shoulder. His arms tighten around you just slightly, his fingers splayed across your stomach in a way that sends shivers down your spine.

“Yoongi,” you murmur, your voice barely audible over the music.

He hums, his breath hot against your ear, and doesn’t let go. Neither of you does, and the two of you continue to move to the slow rhythm of the music.

After a beat, your slow dance stops, and Yoongi coaxes you to face him. You meet his stare, and the look in them is unmistakable—he’s holding back, the same way you are. The longing between you is palpable, every second stretching out like it could break at any moment.

Your fingers grip the fabric of his hoodie, your voice a whisper as you say, “This could be a bad idea.”

He nods, his forehead resting against yours now. “I know. But it could also be good.”

You swallow hard, mulling it over. He says it like it’s simple, like he already believes it.

“We don’t have to do anything, ok?” he assures you. “But I want to hear what you’re afraid of. I want to ease your mind.” He plants a soft peck on your forehead, as if he can magically erase all your fears.

You hesitate but even the doubts are starting to fall away. Maybe you shouldn’t. The NDA, the complications, the fine line you’ve been walking—there’s every reason to step back. To keep this where it’s been. But your heart’s hammering too fast, his presence too overwhelming. You take a deep breath.

You glance at him, the dim light casting shadows across his face, softening his features but sharpening the attraction between you. Your thoughts are spinning. You’ve never felt like this about anyone before. Not this kind of heat—this slow, dangerous burn that’s been growing between you for months. And it’s not just about how he looks, or the chemistry—though, that’s undeniable—it’s him.

Yoongi is solid. Kind. Real in a way that cuts through your usual hesitations, making you feel like you want to dive into whatever this is, no matter the risk.

“Speak to me…” he encourages, pushing a piece of hair back behind your ear. But the words don’t come. Because even though you're filled with dread on what could happen if you take this step with him, you’re also filled with want. So, so much of it. You want him so bad. And you don’t think you can wait any longer.

“What if…” you start, your voice barely above a whisper. His eyes are on you now, sharp and focused. “What if… just this once? I don’t want to think about anything else.”

Yoongi doesn’t move. For a second, you think maybe you’ve phrased it so abrasively. But then his gaze shifts—something raw, something unguarded flashes across his face.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice low, almost a rumble in the quiet.

Your pulse races, the words caught in your throat, but there’s no going back now. You nod, the answer clear in your head before you can stop yourself. “Just one kiss.”

And before you can second-guess yourself more, his lips are on yours—firm, demanding, and everything you’ve been waiting for.

Yoongi’s hand cups the back of your neck, his fingers sliding through your hair as he pulls you to him, fast and deliberate. The kiss isn’t soft. It’s immediate, intense. His lips crash against yours, rougher than you expected, but it feels so fuckin’ right.

Your back hits the glass window behind you with a thud, the cold surface making you gasp into the kiss, but Yoongi doesn’t stop. He’s all heat and urgency, his body pressing into yours like he’s trying to make up for every moment you’ve spent pretending you didn’t want each other this desperately. His hands move to your waist, gripping it like he’s afraid to let go.

You tilt your head, deepening the kiss, letting yourself melt into him. His lips are firm, skilled, moving with a kind of intensity that has you dizzy, every thought slipping away except for him. He breaks the kiss only to drag his lips down your jaw, his breath hot against your skin as his mouth finds the sensitive spot beneath your ear.

You let out a soft moan, your hands finding a place at the back of his neck, guiding him back to your lips. It’s not graceful—none of this is. Raw and messy and honestly, it’s everything you’ve been holding back for far too long.

Yoongi’s hands slide up your arms, pushing them over your head, pinning your wrists against the glass. His body pushes harder against yours, breath coming fast and ragged as he looks down at you, his lips swollen from the kiss. There’s a flicker of something dangerous in his eyes, like he’s holding himself back but barely.

“One more, please?” he asks, voice pained, like it’s taking everything in him not to go further, as his nose nudges yours.

You can’t think. Your brain is empty. It’s all Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi. The only answer you have is the way your body arches into his, silently begging for more. “Ok,” you nod, “more.” And that’s all he needs.

He leans in again, kissing you deeper this time, more controlled but no less intense. His hands tighten around your wrists, holding you there, completely under his control, and you can’t help but surrender to it. The glass behind you is cold, but his body is so warm against yours.

You don’t know how long you stay like that—lost in the fire of his kiss, the feel of his hands on your skin. It feels like time doesn’t exist, like the world outside these four walls has disappeared, leaving just the two of you.

Slowly, he releases your wrist and only then do you start to feel the pinpricks shooting along your arms as they descend limply along your sides. Gasping for breath, you tilt your head to the side, and Yoongi instantly claims the crook of your neck, murmuring your name in a raspy voice against your skin.

But even then, he’s still waiting, waiting for a sign that you want this to go further. After all, you only said one kiss. Knowing Yoongi he will not go beyond what you tell him to. If he only knew that you are so far gone at this point. Game fuckin’ over.

When he finally retreats, both of you breathing hard, he doesn’t say anything immediately, but the way his eyes search yours says everything.

“Tell me what you want,” he pleads, his ragged breath dancing along the moist parts of your skin. “Anything, jagi, it’s yours.”

“You,” you say, inhibitions long gone, the sweet name he uses ushering all the nagging thoughts away. “I want you.”

Nodding, he closes the gap between you and mumbles his assurance against your mouth, “You have me.”

So tonight, you’ll let yourself have him.

And it’s gonna be so fuckin’ good you can already tell.

A/N: Alright, how about that first kiss??? 🥴 Honestly, it got me blushing while editing that whole sequence.

And before y’all burn me at the stake for blue-balling you yet again–I promise you the next chapter will pick up where we left off and it won’t be some weird time-skip. Promise! ✋ Hehe. You need to wait for it a little bit though because the next chapter is only at 10% right now and work is gonna be pretty hectic for the next three weeks.

For now, let your imagination go buck wild, and don’t forget to leave me an ask or shout at me in the comments if you want to see anything specifically in the next chapters.

Also y’all have to thank this one lovely anon who requested for more time before scootergate, because initially it was gonna happen the Monday after this night. The horror!!

Thank you again for reading this, you lovely human! 😘 See you in the comments. ⬇️

Chapter Five >

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