#Jackson Wang fanfiction

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Come Alive (part one)

Pairing: Jackson Wang x female reader Summary: A night out with your friends takes a very unexpected turn when a gorgeous, kindhearted stranger offers to pretend to be your boyfriend to ward off unwanted attention. All you can think about is the prospect of what could be…but for him, it’s not that simple. Genre: Fake dating au / strangers to lovers au / heartbreak / series / angst / fluff / smut Rating: 15 (Nsfw-smut in future chapters) Warnings: Making out / mentions of heartbreak / mentions of cheating (not by main characters) / slight stalking or predatory behaviour from non named, small character. W/C: 3.9k Banner: @nixiecreates creating pure perfection. Beta: @flurrys-creativity for being lovely and helpful as always. Notes: I’m back from abyss of life/work/kids and I'm writing again, if anyone still cares. I’m working on more kpop fanfic and going to try to post as regularly as I can. Please, comment and share, it really helps keep the motivation of writing going, thank you for anyone who reads! This is part one of approx five parts.

Feeling unwelcome eyes on you as you move further into the crowd to escape, gives you a knot in the pit of your stomach that pulls tightly on your insides. You try not to but end up glancing back at the man you're attempting to get away from, only to discover your suspicions are correct, he is watching your retreat with annoyance etched across his brow.

Why do some guys find the word ‘no’ such a hard answer to accept?

It's not like you were rude about it, in fact, you went out of your way to be as nice as possible but clearly, it didn't soften the blow.

You head to the bar, figuring you'll be safe for a while if you can talk to the bar staff, and pull out your phone, staring at the same message of "on our way" in your group chat. That was twenty minutes ago and you were still waiting. 

Your decision to get ready at work and come from there instead of pre drinking with the girls, now looks like a mistake.

Your gaze travels nervously back to the stranger and your stomach drops at seeing him moving slowly towards you through the crowd. For the love of…

“Can I be of any assistance?” A deep male voice sounds to your right, causing your head to snap over to the figure in the neighbouring bar stool. 

You're greeted by a handsome face with perfect features marred with a deep frown, as he nods his head in the persistent strangers direction. “He's making you uncomfortable,” he says matter-of-factly. 

You nod, surprised anyone has even noticed, the dancefloor of the club was very busy. 

“You can say that again.” You respond before ordering another drink. “Is he still heading this way?” You ask, afraid to look for yourself.

You watch the handsome stranger’s face explore the crowd, eyes scanning faces but you know when he's found him by the way darkness sweeps across his features. “He seems to be assessing the situation, just a short distance away.”

You sigh and take a long sip of your drink. “In that case, can you pretend we know each other? Then he might just decide to leave me alone.”

His responding smile is dazzling and has your mouth stretching up in a mirroring grin. 

“Not a problem, just go with me ok?” He says, as he slides your bar stool towards him, so your knees are in between his legs. “If you feel uncomfortable with anything I do, at any point, just say the word and I'll stop.” He says, leaning into your ear. “Now,” he pulls back slightly and tucks your hair behind your ear, in such a gentle manner you barely feel it, “firstly, i'm Jackson.”

His fingers softly trail down the length of your arm sending a shiver down your spine that you find yourself relishing in, rather than shying away from this complete stranger. There's oddly something comforting and wholesome about him.

“Secondly, how do you want to play this?” His hand comes to rest lightly on your thigh and when your eyes go from that to his face, your gaze locks and you can't look away. Focused on his brown eyes and how intense they stare back at you, you note a hint of sadness in them that he's trying to conceal and wonder what's the cause. 

You frown trying to understand the question he's just asked and what he means and when his mouth pulls up in a smile your eyes follow the movement.

“In the instances I've seen, men like this back off faster if they think you're with a boyfriend or love interest?” He watches you carefully, assessing your reaction.

You swallow, his scent swirling around you, like fresh linen with an underline of sweetness, is making it hard to focus, especially when the heat from his hand still on your leg is radiating through your body. 

“Yes,” you clear your throat and shift in your seat, “fine with me.”

“Like I said, at any point you're not comfortable, just say the word and I'll stop, ok?”

You nod, “got it.”

With a wide eyed smile, he takes your hand and entwines his fingers with yours, his thumb rubbing soft circles on your wrist. 

“Thank you,” you say, leaning into him slightly as you settle into your new role. “I'm waiting for my friends but they're late.”

He smiles and pushes the hair off your shoulder as he leans into your ear. “Happy to be of service, there are much worse things than pretending to be a beautiful stranger's boyfriend.”

Your cheeks grow hot at his words and you're thankful that he can't see from his position. 

“And why are you here drinking alone?” You attempt to deflect the focus from yourself, wanting to know more about him but you're aware of how his body stiffens at the question, only briefly, before relaxing again as he leans back away from you slightly. “Ah,” he sighs, “I'm attempting to ease the pain of heartbreak by drinking myself into oblivion.” His eyes avoid yours but you catch the raw emotion in them before they do. 

“I'm so sorry,” you comfortingly squeeze the hand he still holds of yours. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He brings your fingers to his mouth and kisses them, you’re mesmerised by how soft his lips are against your skin, not to mention how tender the action is.

He smiles but it doesn't reach his eyes, doesn't even come close. “Pretty clichéd stuff, I don't want to bore you with it.”

You hook a knuckle under his chin and tilt his head up, until he meets your gaze again. “Try me.”

His face visibly softens, eyebrows knitted together in anguish, he looks torn as unsure whether to share his story or if he should continue acting out your pretence. “I, er, found my girlfriend sleeping with one of my best friends.” He shrugs and shakes his head as if trying to push away the image. “I've now lost two people I cared deeply about and to be honest, I feel kind of baffled right now.”

You sit and watch as he surveys the crowd, clearly trying to distract himself from the pain. Your heart actually hurts for him. Here he was, so hurt and yet still trying to help you out and make your evening better.

“I know it's easy to say but I've been there, it does get easier.” You give him a reassuring smile, “and it may not help much right now, but it sounds to me like they're the ones who have lost something, not you.”

His face softens and his lips twitch up into a slight smile. “I appreciate that.”

Peeling your eyes away from him for the first time since you began your conversation, you take a large sip of your drink and relish the sweetness as it goes down.

Jackson looks over in the direction of the other guy. “He is persistent, isn't he?” It was clearly his turn to change the subject.

Rolling your eyes you shift closer to Jackson. “How do you feel about giving him a bit of a show?” 

His eyebrow arches as he turns his head slowly back in your direction. “What did you have in mind?” 

“Kiss me. I'm sure he'll get the hint then.” 

You see something flash in Jackson's eyes but before you can recognise what it is, it's gone as quick as it appeared. “You sure?”

Feeling yourself smiling shyly, you look up at him through your lashes, “absolutely. Only if you're comfortable with it, of course?”

“Definitely.” He whispers, standing from his stool and nudging your knees apart slightly to get closer. As he towers above you, his hands come up and gently cup either side of your jaw, arching your face up towards him, he leans down but pauses merely inches away, “you never told me your name.” 

His breath tickling your skin only draws you in more. 

“Y/n,” you reply almost breathlessly, as your heart gallops like a horse on a race track, eager to get to the finish line. 

He smiles sweetly. “Nice to meet you, y/n.” 

You take note of his blown out pupils and know, judging by the throbbing from between your legs, yours surely matches his. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips and all you can do is watch as his head tilts slightly and he begins to close the space between you. His unbearably slow manoeuvre is deliberate but you grow impatient to know what his lips feel like against yours and before you register the movement, you’re grabbing his shirt and pulling him against you. 

His soft lips crash against yours and you hear his small, surprised moan as his hand suddenly finds the base of your neck, keeping you in place as he slots himself between your legs.

Behind your closed lids, all you can see is a cloudy red as heat and lust bloom inside you, sending a flush across your skin you've not experienced before. It awakens a hunger inside you that is very unexpected. The noise around you disappears as you're acutely aware of your heart pounding in your ears. The feel of your blood rushing through your veins, making your body throb with excitement, nerves raw with want. It had been a long time since you'd kissed a stranger, and a longer time since you'd let your defences down and given into a base desire. 

His hand entwines with yours before pulling you up on your feet, hearing the screech of the bar stool as it’s pushed away from you before he turns your body to the bar and cages you in, pressing his hard body against you. Your mouth devours him hungrily and when your tongue reaches out tentatively, he welcomes you in.

He tastes sweet and woody with a hint of spice, making you wonder what he was drinking but unable to focus on much apart from the sensual way he’s kissing you, slow, intentional and yet, intensely urgent.

Your mouths dance together, perfectly in sync in their own private serenade, with your hands exploring and finding their way up around his neck, fingers gripped into his hair to keep him close to you. When he moans into your mouth, you almost lose all composure as you break apart to take a breath and take control by spinning and shoving him against the bar. He arches an eyebrow in surprise as you feel his hand snake around your waist, pulling you back against him. His fingers dig into your back keeping you firmly in place, not that you want to move anywhere else at this moment. 

His scent swirls around you, sweeping you up and carrying you away, an absolute hurricane for your senses. Just when it all feels too much and when you're squeezing your thighs together for some semblance of relief, he pulls away, leaving you gasping and full of want.

He pants, breath fanning out over your face as your bodies still remain flush against each other.

The silence between you is so thick you could almost slice it with a blade. Something in your eyes reflects in his, where you both seem to revel in the sudden sexual tension between you. He remains clinging to you and the radiating heat of his body muddles your thoughts and leaves you wanting nothing more than to melt further into his embrace. This feeling between you is nothing like you were used to, passionate beyond belief. How can a stranger have you feeling this way? All you know is his name, and yet, there was something so comforting about him, so familiar.

His thumb strokes along your jaw as his mouth pulls into a smile, the action; so gentle it makes you want to lean into it but you resist.

“Wow.” He finally breaks the silence with a husky whisper.

“Wow.” You repeat, still shocked at your body's reaction to him.

You clear your throat, an attempt to also clear your hazy head and bring yourself back down to earth.

Jackson's gaze flutters begrudgingly away from you. “It worked,” he says, returning his dark eyes to you, holding your neck and studying your face like you were the Mona Lisa. “He's gone.”

If you were honest, you no longer care about the man in question, he is nothing but a tiny speck on your radar, ready to be flicked away, as if he were nothing better than a microscopic bug on a windshield. Jackson, however, is the beautiful sunset view stretched out in front of you.

Your phone vibrating in your jeans pocket makes you jump, snapping you out of whatever trance you'd been in, as you scramble to answer it, recognising one of your friends on the caller id.

“Sorry,” you say to him, as your body suddenly feels cold without him pressed against you.

He smiles but gives you the room you need.

“Hello, Jennie?”

“Babe, I'm so sorry.” You hear over the line, apology evident in her tone.

“Don't worry about it, but where the fuck are you guys?”

There's a pause long enough you have to check you still have reception, you put your finger in your other ear. “Jennie?”

“Didn't you get my messages? We're not coming.”

You pull your phone away from your ear and see you have seven unread messages from her, letting out an audible groan, you return the phone to your ear. “Why? What happened?”

“Rose and Lisa both have that stomach thing that's been going around, they're here at my place…throwing up, Jisoo turned up and fled the scene as soon as she could, not that i blame her.” 

You grimace, that does not sound fun, or like anything you want to be a part of. “Ok,” you sigh, attempting to get your head on straight, “do you need anything?”

“A hazmat suit?” She laughs and you can't help but do the same, even if her night has definitely turned out worse than yours.

You notice Jackson glance at you, hearing a one sided conversation but clearly trying not to listen in.

“Na, I'm good, girl. I'm so sorry about tonight, will you be ok getting home?”

You roll your eyes, “I'm a grown woman, I think I can manage to get a cab by myself.”

You hear an amused breath down the phone. 

“I'll call you tomorrow, ok?” You say. “Let me know if you need me to swing by at all.”

“No, go on without me, save yourself…,” her voice gets quieter as she hangs up, making you giggle. 

“Everything ok?” Jackson asks, genuine concern furrowing his brow.

You sigh, returning to your stool at the bar, “I got stood up.”

He frowns and joins you, taking his seat. “By your friends?” 

You nod, unsure whether you want to go home just yet or get to know Jackson a bit more. “Two of them have got some kind of bug.” 

There’s a moment of pensive silence between you.

“Before I spotted you,” he starts, “I was about to leave, I'd been staring into an empty glass long enough.”

You take note of the sudden sadness in his tone and your heart strings tug in his direction.

“If you're ready to go, we can share a cab, if you like?” He asks, seeming somewhat hesitant, amusing seeing as he had his tongue down your throat only a moment ago.

“Sure, that would be great.” 

You can't help the disappointment you feel settling into the pit of your stomach, clearly not ready to cut the night short with him but, understanding in his current heartbreak state, it may not be the best time. 

He grabs his jacket from the chair, draping it over his arm, then pulls out his phone and books a taxi on his app. “Should be here in seven minutes. Shall we head out?”

Nodding, you take the hand he offers you and let him lead you out through the compact crowd on the dancefloor.

The cold night air hits you, a stark contrast to the heat you felt inside, and you feel foolish for not bringing a jacket, forgetting how cool the night air can be.

A shiver runs through you, as you fold your arms across your chest at an attempt to stave off the chill. Jackson must notice, as something caresses your shoulders and when you look down, his jacket is draped around you.

“No, no, it's ok–” 

“I'm afraid I have to insist,” he cuts you off with a challenging smirk and you relent, pulling the thick material around you.

“Thank you,” you reply quietly, as you both walk slowly to the corner of the next road, away from the main entrance of the club.

“So what do you do in your spare time, aside from playing the part of ‘knight in shining armour’?” You ask, into the sudden awkward silence.

His responding laugh lights up the darkness of the night, coupled with a smile so bright that even the sun must envy him.

“That's not a title I've had before.” He glances at you shyly, a faint blush colouring his cheeks. “You want the run down of me huh?”

You nod encouragingly.

“Ok, well, I have a lot of active hobbies, I go running almost everyday, rock climbing at the weekends, I love basketball and I did fencing as a child so I occasionally dip a toe back into it. Aside from that, I play piano and write music, I can speak four languages, I’m allergic to cats, I really hate spicy food, I have an older brother and I work for a fashion company.”

He shrugs at the end like none of it was the slightest bit impressive as you try to process the information.

“You speak four languages?” You ask, unable to hide the shock.

He nods and smiles bashfully. “I mean, yeah, I guess so.”

“How? One is hard enough but four, you’re just gluten for punishment really.”

He laughs again. “Hey, I didn’t say I didn’t find it hard, I guess I'm just very determined.”

Shaking your head in disbelief, you pause when you come to the corner and perch on the wall of one of the buildings, the cold stone through your jeans causes you to shiver.

“Your turn.” He takes a seat next to you, watching your face, awaiting your response.

You pause, thinking if you had anything as interesting as that to tell him, feeling slightly embarrassed by your dull life. “Well, I'm not as interesting as you but, I too go running a few times a week and I go to yoga class twice a week, that’s all the physical activity I partake in. I work for an animation studio, which is my dream job and I love it there. I also have an older brother, who annoys the hell out of me but he’s my favourite person in the whole world, although I'd die if he ever found that out.” You both laugh and you can’t help but notice the genuine interest twinkling in his eyes as you talk. “I love lazy sundays of sleeping in, reading and ordering take out. Going out for breakfast is my favourite weekend activity and I’m a sucker for a dessert. I'll choose sweet over savoury every day of the week.”

He opens his mouth to speak but the taxi honking his horn as he arrives in front of you, makes you both jump and steals your attention.

Jackson holds the door open for you and you slide in along the leather seats. Inside it smells of perfume, alcohol and take away, you waste no time opening the window on your side as he climbs in next to you. You tell the driver your address as you're the first drop off and your short journey begins.

“That's quite a statement,” Jackson says over the quiet music on the radio, brow heavy with confusion. “Sweet over savoury?”

“There's not a doubt in my mind about it,” you reiterate, “desserts are the queens of meals.” 

“But what about starters?”

You shrug. “I think they're overrated.”

His mouth pops open as he stares at you, the action so comical you can't help but erupt with laughter. 

“Listen, I could take you to a dessert place that would literally change your life, and I can guarantee you'd move over to my way of thinking.”

He raises a brow. “I love your confidence. I just might have to accept that challenge.”

Your stomach flips at the prospect of seeing him again as you try to quell the excitement blooming inside you. “Well, you better get ready to lose.” You poke your tongue out at him and do not fail to notice the way his eyes travel hungrily to the action but before either of you have a chance to act on it, the car pulls to a stop.

“I think this is you,” Jackson says, getting out of the car and rushing around to open your door. You take the hand he holds out to you and let him pull you gently from the cab. When you’re upright you realise then how close your bodies are once again, basking in the heat from his body and definitely no longer needing the jacket. You tilt your head up to him and your eyes connect in a heated, yet hesitant stare. His hands linger at your hips, suddenly unsure where the boundary is.

“Thank you, for tonight,” you say quietly, every movement seeming so loud outside your apartment building. 

“It was my pleasure.” He smirks and the way your core clenches has you releasing a shaky breath. “Thank you, for taking my mind off things tonight. You proved there is enjoyment after heartbreak, I've barely thought about my ex whilst in your company.”

Your mouth turns up in a smile before you can try and stop it. “I'm happy to oblige any time.”

He opens his mouth but closes it again, eyes still focused on yours but glazed with conflict. “I know the timing isn't great, but would you maybe want to have dinner…or dessert sometime?”

You laugh at the conversation in the cab. Your heart swells in your chest and you take a breath to quell your excitement. “If I give you my number, then you can message me when you're ready, how about that?”

He nods, features soft, kind eyes sweeping over your face as he hands you his phone. This man is so intense, you find it hard to focus on anything, even breathing feels like a struggle when his gaze is on you. You type in your number and save it, before handing it back. He leans in and for a second you prepare yourself for another wild, steamy kiss, but instead his lips meet your cheek in a gentle caress, a featherlight touch that has you wanting more but understanding it's not the right time for him.

You smile and walk over to your building, turning to have one last look at him as you pass the threshold and only regretting it with how devastatingly handsome he looks leaning up against the car, watching and waiting for you to get home safely. As he waves and gives you one last smile so sexy you bite your lips as you watch the door close, separating the two of you and ending your surprising night with him.

[ntoxicatedcherri]

WARNING: 18+ ONLY, NO MINORS ALLOWED. Supernatural themes, mentions of violence and manipulation, kidnapping themes, and coercion if you squint. This story contains smut and is dark in content. This is not meant to represent Jackson in anyway. This is purely fiction. If the themes mentioned above make you uncomfortable, do not read.

Word Count: 13.694

Pairing: Jackson Wang x Black!Original Female Character

This is for the Black K-Pop Girlies. I'm new to it but I love it. We don't have a lot of representation in this space either, so this is my contribution. I will be writing more in the future as well because Black K-Pop Fans exist and we are valid.

You’re safe. No one will hurt you.

Atabey could hear her grandmother’s voice

The goddess will protect you.

White sheets covered the mirrors.

The blue and green glass bottles still hung from the branches. 

Evil cannot enter this home.

But Atabey’s soul told her….

Something else.

The wood floors creaked as she walked the floor of Sylvia, her grandmother’s, home. It was well into the night. The time on her grandfather’s old pocket watch read 2:59 am.

 The rain spattered against the window pane. The lightning lit up the sky, casting purple and indigo against the clouds. These were the nights her grandmother would tell her, 

“Goddess Aaerie is talking. Be still and listen.”

Sleep didn’t find her easily these days. Her heart is still aching for her grandmother. Her last days filled Atabey with pain as she watched her slowly slip away. Muttering to herself about evil in the shadows. 

Atabey would braid her hair as her grandmother would rock herself back and forth, whispering prayers, and singing. Her last words were, “Keep the devil in the night. Keep the Goddess with you. Always.” as she passed her a silver necklace, covered in blessed oil. 

Atabey didn’t know what she was talking about, but her blessing made her feel safe.

But her soul told her….

Atabey

The sound of her name chilled her bones. Where did it come from? She was here alone. 

Atabey. Come to me baby. 

Atabey’s heart beats faster and faster. She crept to the front door. Her hands shook as she reached for the knob. She slowly opened it, the wind immediately sweeping her nightgown into the breeze. The rain poured, slightly obstructing her vision. 

But she could see a figure standing at the end of the end of the walkway. The lightning struck and she could see his slim figure. He was wearing all black. His light colored hair shone bright in the moonlight.

It was almost like he was standing right in front of her. 

Sweetheart…Sweetheart, come here.

The wind carried his voice to her ears. Her body dared to move closer to him.

Sweetheart…Come here. Now.

Her feet crossed the threshold of the house. The rain soaked her nightgown, the wind chilled her bones. Atabey’s mind was blank. She could only see him. She could only hear him.

That’s it. That’s my good girl. Come to me, baby.

He held out his hand to her. She was so close.Her fingertips grazed his palm. The silver necklace around her neck burned, snapping her from her trance. When lightning struck again, Atabey could see his wicked grin. The lust and desire in his dark eyes made her blood run cold.

Don’t be afraid, baby.

Her voice failed her, as fear overtook her body. Atabey turned, and ran as fast as she could, back to your grandmother’s house. She could see her grandmother. She was standing in the doorway, arms open wide for her. 

You cannot run forever, sweetheart. You belong to me.

Atabey slammed the door behind her. Her body shook from the immense fear that soaked into every pore of her being. Atabey could hear her grandmother’s voice. Singing and praying. 

“Keep the devil in the night. Keep the Goddess with you. Always.”

Atabey was safe. No one can hurt her.

But her soul told her

Something else…..

Four Months Later

Under the warm embrace of the afternoon sun, Atabey moved gracefully through her grandmother’s garden, a patch of earthly paradise tucked away in the heart of her home. The scent of blooming roses, honeysuckles, lilies, and tulips mingled in the air, creating a symphony of fragrances that enveloped the senses.

As she knelt among the sea of colors, Atabey's eyes surveyed the vibrant tapestry she had cultivated. The roses, with their velvety petals, whispered tales of love and passion. Honeysuckles, weaving through trellises, released their sweet fragrance like secrets carried by the breeze. Lilies, elegant and regal, stood as guardians of the garden's soul, while tulips, their vibrant hues a testament to the spectrum of life, bowed gracefully in the sun's gentle glow.

The scent of apricot and honey filled her nose as she coated herself in the oil,  High Priestess Ariah, gave her. Atabey had not been able to truly find comfort since that night. His smile would flash in her mind, sending a chill down her spine. 

Although, she did her best to convince herself it was just a dream-it didn’t work. She could still hear his voice in the night, calling her name in a sweet, honeyed tone. Her body would fight against her, wanting to follow the sound of his voice. All she could do was pray and call out to her Goddess. 

From the day she turned twenty-one, her grandmother and the other High Priestesses told her that she was blessed. The golden tattoos that appeared on her skin, deemed her as the Goddess’s chosen daughter. The daughter who would lead her generation of sisters to prosperity through truth, virtue, and dignity. It was a heavy burden on her shoulders but she knew that she had to carry it. 

Atabey grabbed her wicker basket and began to grab flowers from her garden to take to the temple for offering. She was preparing for her crossing ceremony tonight. During this ceremony, she would commune and ascend to the level of the chosen daughters before her. Through their guidance and wisdom would she be able to properly lead. 

She picked her honeysuckles, lilies, and tulips. The fruit on her trees had not bloomed yet, or she would have picked apples, oranges, and lemons to offer to the Goddess as well. 

She placed the basket on her hip and headed toward the wooden gate of the garden. She was eager to get to the temple and be in her Goddess’s presence. She used to be afraid of the idea of ascending. She was told that she would be separated from her body and enter the spirit realm to commune with those before her. In other words, she would enter a state of death temporarily. But through prayers and encouragement, she overcame that fear.

Close your eyes, my precious one,Underneath the moonlit sky,For in your dreams, the goddess comes,To bless you as you lie.

She chose you, child, from realms afar,To hold her light within,So hush now, dear, and heed her call,Let her love gently begin.

May stars above, in their celestial dance,Guide you through the night,And may the goddess' tender embrace,Fill your dreams with pure delight.

Sleep now, my darling, safe and sound,In the cradle of her grace,For you are chosen, blessed, and loved,In her divine embrace.

Atabey sang to herself. It was a song her grandmother had sung to her as soon as she was identified as the Chosen Daughter. It always brought her comfort.

As she walked through the tall grass, she could see a figure up ahead. She couldn’t tell who they were due to their head being covered by a black hood and their back was to her. Her heart began to beat faster. Her mind flashed back to that night.

Her footsteps slowed. So did theirs. Atabey moved to her left to hide behind a tree. Her nerves were on edge. She had been paranoid ever since that dream to the point where any unfamiliar face or presence she immediately took as a threat. She peeked around the tree to see that the person had disappeared. She wasn’t sure how they’d gone so fast but she took that moment to flee the area as soon as possible to make it to the temple. 

She didn’t want her fear to keep holding her back. Maybe once she ascended, these fears won’t be so heavy on her. She sent a silent prayer to her Goddess.

No one can hurt you. 

Atabey continued her journey toward the temple. As she wandered toward the forest that hid the temple, she felt a chill go down her spine. She could feel that someone was watching her. She looked back over her shoulder to see a man standing where she just was. He was wearing all black with vibrant red hair, holding an apple just as bright. He cocked his head to the side and waved at her. 

Atabey’s blood ran cold. He made no move toward her but Atabey could feel the power emanating from him still. Her heart was in her throat. Who was he and why was he watching her?

It was when he took a step toward her, that her basket fell to her feet. She was frozen in her spot. He was so fast, it was as if his every step was the length of twelve. 

Atabey finally willed her body to move. She turned to the forest and ran. Sticks pricked her feet as she bounded across the earth. She dared to look over her shoulder again. She could see his face clearly now. His pale skin glimmered in the bit of light filtering through the canopy. His eyes were a brilliant blue. He was not the man from that night, but he still felt familiar.

Atabey turned around and collided with something hard. A pair of arms grabbed her to steady her. She looked up and saw the most beautiful brown eyes she had ever seen. The way they sparkled in the sunlight that managed to filter through the canopy had her heart beating faster. He smiled down at her. She could see his lips moving but she couldn’t hear over the sound of her own heart pounding.

“Miss?”

Atabey snapped out of her trance. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t see you”

“It’s okay. Why were you running like that?”

“There’s a man over there. He appeared out of nowhere and I think he wanted to hurt me.”

The man looked past Atabey with confusion on his face. Atabey looked over her shoulder to see that no one was there. She was standing here in front of a beautiful man, breathless, speaking of a man who disappeared into thin air. She was sure she looked crazy. Where had he gone that fast? Atabey reached up for her necklace, but the jewelry was missing. She looked around, frantically, for her necklace. Atabey parted the grass and turned over every leaf. She needed her necklace. It was her lifeline.

The man bent down and grabbed Atabey’s trembling hands.

“I don’t see a man, but if you say you saw one then you saw one. Maybe you shouldn’t be out here alone. Where were you headed, I can take you there if you’d like?”

Atabey bit down on her lip. Should she go with him? Should she trust him? He appeared out of nowhere too… 

It’s okay. He won’t hurt you, sweetheart. Trust him. He will bring you to me.

“It’s alright, Atabey. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Atabey pulled her hands away and slowly took a step back away from the man. His smile faltered a bit. He did it so fast that it wouldn’t have been noticeable had she not been looking at him.

“I didn’t tell you my name.”

The man dropped his hands to his side. He turned his head and laughed to himself. Atabey, still backing away from him, kept her eyes on him. She wasn’t sure what he was capable of and because she hadn’t ascended yet, she wasn’t sure what she was capable of either. 

“Wow Christopher. You really fucked that up. Hyunjin, help me with this please.”

The red-haired man, who is assumed to be Hyunjin, appeared next to him. He looked annoyed with the dark-haired man next to him. 

Atabey turned to run and collided with Hyunjin. He didn’t speak. He only kissed his fingertips and placed them on her lips. Atabey started to feel light headed and began to sway on her feet. She pushed past Hyunjin and tried to move through the trees to escape. Her feet felt heavy. The world around her started to move in slow motion.

What did he do to her?

She collapsed to the ground. She did her best to crawl away. Her vision started to blur and darken around the edges. Her body gave up on her and she could no longer move. 

She felt weightless.

“I’m sorry Daughter of Aaerie. But he wants you and whatever he wants, he gets''

Atabey’s ears began to ring. It felt as if the ground was opening beneath her to swallow her whole. Heat began to encompass her body. She could feel flames lick her skin. It didn’t burn but the sensation was strange against her skin. 

Atabey did her best to look through the blur in her vision but her senses were immediately overwhelmed by the opulent grandeur that surrounded her. The air was heavy with the scent of black pepper, cardamom, cinnamon, and clove. Beneath those scents was the metallic stench of blood.

Atabey's gaze was drawn inexorably to the walls, where torches, ensconced in sconces fashioned from the bones of fallen warriors, cast dancing shadows upon the stone floor, their flickering light imbuing the chamber with an otherworldly ambiance. 

Stones of sapphire, emerald, ruby, and topaz were embedded in the rough-hewn stone like stars scattered across the night sky. Each gem glimmered with its own inner light, reflecting the torches' flames in a dazzling display of color and brilliance. 

At the far end of the chamber, upon a dais of polished black marble, sits a throne—a formidable seat of power crafted from the bones of fallen titans and encrusted with gemstones of incomparable rarity and beauty. 

She could feel the weight of body returning to her. Her fingers fidgeted against the stone floor. 

She could feel the eyes of unseen watchers upon her, their presence a silent reminder of the ancient powers that dwell within these walls. And yet, despite the palpable sense of danger that hangs in the air, there is also a strange allure—a whisper of temptation that beckons her closer, drawing her toward the throne and the enigmatic figure who sits upon it.

With his eyes adorned in dark makeup that accentuates their piercing gaze, he commands the room with an air of quiet authority that would send shivers down the spine of even the bravest souls.

Clad in a black mesh shirt that clings to his powerful frame, he exudes an aura of raw strength and dark allure. The fabric whispers as he moves, revealing tantalizing glimpses of skin beneath its veil, hinting at the secrets that lie hidden beneath the surface.

In his hand, he holds a glass of dark liquor, the amber liquid swirling within its confines like liquid shadows. As he raises the glass to his lips, the flickering torchlight casts dancing shadows across his face, accentuating the sharp angles of his features and lending an otherworldly intensity to his dark eyes. There is a dangerous elegance to his movements, a sense of quiet power that is as intoxicating as the liquor he drinks.

As he rises from his throne, a palpable tension fills the air, thick with anticipation and a hint of danger. He moves with a predatory grace, his eyes locked on Atabey with a gaze that seems to strip away the layers of her very being, laying bare her deepest desires and fears. 

With each step he takes, the sound of his boots echoes through the chamber like a death knell, sending a shiver down Atabey's spine. She can feel the weight of his presence bearing down upon her, suffocating her with its intensity, yet drawing her in with a magnetic pull that she cannot resist.

As he approaches, his movements are deliberate, his every gesture laden with a sense of power and control that leaves Atabey feeling both exhilarated and unnerved. She can sense the darkness that surrounds him, a swirling maelstrom of shadows and lust that threatens to engulf her whole.

Suddenly, without warning, his hand lashes out, sending his glass bottle hurtling towards the wall with a force that shatters it into a thousand glittering shards. The sound echoes through the chamber thunderously, a loud crack that reverberates in Atabey's ears, leaving her trembling in its wake.

In that moment, fear and desire collide within Atabey's veins, warring for dominance over her senses. She can feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins, her heart racing in her chest as she struggles to reconcile the conflicting emotions that rage within her.

On one hand, there is an instinctual terror that grips her soul, a primal fear of the darkness that surrounds him like a cloak. And yet, intertwined with that fear is an undeniable attraction, a magnetic pull that draws her towards him with a force that she cannot resist.

As he draws closer, the conflicting emotions within Atabey reach a fever pitch, threatening to consume her whole. She knows that she should flee, that she should run far and fast from the danger that lurks in his gaze. And yet, despite the warnings screaming in her mind, she finds herself rooted to the spot. A sense of familiarity starts to settle with her as she looks up at the man who stands before her—the man from those months ago, whose very presence ignites a fire within her that she cannot extinguish.

“Who are you?” 

As Atabey's voice cuts through the tension-laden air, Jackson's gaze softens, his eyes momentarily losing their steely edge as he looks upon her with a mixture of longing and affection. Despite the darkness that surrounds him, there is a vulnerability in his gaze, a glimpse of the man beneath the facade of the King of Shadows.

A faint smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he hears her question, a gentle warmth suffusing his expression as he steps closer to her. His voice is low and husky, tinged with a hint of emotion that belies the stoic exterior he presents to the world.

"My dear Atabey," he murmurs, the endearment rolling off his tongue with a familiarity that speaks of a deeper connection between them. "I am many things—a ruler, a shadow in the night—but above all else, I am yours. My name is Ka-Yee, but you may call me Jackson''

There is a tenderness in his words, a sincerity that cuts through the darkness like a ray of sunlight piercing the clouds. As he reaches out to gently brush a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch is gentle, his fingers tracing the curve of her cheek with a reverence that speaks volumes.

He leaned down to her, his lips gently ghosting over hers. Not a kiss, but a delicate brush.

“Welcome home, baby.”

A searing heat flooded through Atabey’s body. Her golden tattoos slowly changing to crimson. Atabey looked down at her body in horror and instinctively recoiled from his touch, a flicker of frustration crossed Jackson's features, darkening his usually composed expression. His brows knit together slightly, a furrow forming between them as he watches her retreat, a pang of hurt and confusion tugging at his heart.

For a brief moment, the vulnerability in his gaze gives way to a flash of irritation, a shadow of frustration clouding the depths of his eyes. It's as if a barrier has been erected between them, a wall of uncertainty that threatens to drive them apart.

Despite his efforts to conceal it, the frustration is palpable in the tension that creeps into his posture, the set of his jaw tightening imperceptibly as he struggles to reign in his emotions. His fingers curl into fists at his sides, a silent testament to the restraint he exercises in the face of Atabey's rejection.

But beneath the mask of frustration, there lingers a deeper well of longing—a yearning that refuses to be ignored.

Atabey picks herself up from the floor and runs toward the ornate doors of the throne room. 

“Would you like me to go after her?” Hyunjin asked, suddenly appearing beside him.

“No need. She has no idea where she’s going.”

As Atabey flees from Jackson's throne room, her heart pounds in her chest like a drumbeat echoing through the labyrinthine corridors of the castle. Panic courses through her veins, driving her forward with a desperate urgency as she searches for an escape from the oppressive darkness that surrounds her.

The winding passageways seem to stretch on endlessly, twisting and turning in a dizzying maze that leaves Atabey feeling disoriented and lost. Shadows dance along the walls, casting eerie shapes that seem to leer at her from the darkness, and the flickering torchlight offers little solace as it plays tricks on her senses.

With each step, Atabey's fear grows, gnawing at the edges of her mind like a ravenous beast. She can feel the weight of the castle pressing down upon her, suffocating her with its embrace, and the sense of isolation only serves to deepen her unease.

And then, as if by some cruel twist of fate, Atabey finds herself standing before a room unlike any she has seen before. Its entrance is shrouded in darkness, a sheer fabric that billows gently in the stagnant air, offering no clue as to what lies beyond.

For a moment, Atabey hesitates, her heart hammering in her chest as she debates whether to enter. But the sense of urgency that drives her forward outweighs her apprehension, and with a trembling hand, she pushes aside the fabric and steps into the unknown.

As she crosses the threshold, Atabey is enveloped in darkness, the oppressive silence of the room closing in around her like a suffocating cloak. But even in the midst of her fear, there is a sense of relief—a respite from the chaos and confusion that swirls outside.

With a deep breath, Atabey gathers her courage and presses forward, determined to uncover the secrets that lie hidden within the shadows. 

Suddenly the torch lights flickered on.

The chamber is a realm unto itself, a sanctuary of opulence and intrigue nestled within the castle. 

The centerpiece of the room is a massive bed, its intricately carved frame reaching towards the vaulted ceiling like a monument to decadence. Draped in sumptuous silks and velvets of deepest black, the bed beckons with an irresistible allure, promising comfort and luxury beyond compare.

Along the walls, rubies and aquamarines are set into the stone like jewels in a crown, their vibrant colors casting shimmering reflections across the chamber. Each gem seems to pulse with its own inner light, bathing the room in a kaleidoscope of hues that dance across the walls like ripples on a pond.

Above the bed hangs a mirror of polished silver, its surface gleaming with an otherworldly sheen. As Atabey approaches, she catches her reflection in the mirror's depths, her features bathed in the soft light of the torches as if seen through a veil of moonlight.

But it is not just the sight of the room that captivates Atabey—it is the scent that fills the air, a heady blend of tobacco and vanilla that hangs like a fragrant cloud around her. The aroma is intoxicating, wrapping her in its warm embrace.

As she inhales deeply, Atabey feels a sense of calm wash over her, the scent of tobacco and vanilla mingling with the whispers of the shadows to create a symphony of sensation that soothes her troubled mind.

“Well, I was going to wait to bring you here sweetheart, but since you’ve made your way into my chambers-shall I make love to you now?”

Atabey's heart leaps into her throat as she feels his presence behind her, a shiver running down her spine at Jackson's proximity. She turns slowly, her pulse quickening with a mixture of apprehension and anticipation, her breath catching in her throat as she meets his gaze.

There he stands, his eyes ablaze with an intensity that sends a thrill coursing through her veins. Atabey's mind whirls with a whirlwind of emotions—surprise, desire, fear, and longing intertwining like threads in a tangled tapestry.

As Jackson's words wash over her, Atabey feels a flush of heat spreading across her cheeks, her heart pounding in her chest echoing through the cavernous chamber. She was speechless, caught off guard by his boldness, yet unable to deny the flicker of desire that ignites within her at his words.

Jackson’s eyes drifted over to the bed. The large fixture beckoning to him. The vermillion sheets. He wanted Atabey there, spread open for his pleasure.

He reached out and touched her with the tips of his fingers. His touch was soft against her skin. He pulled her closer to him, burying face in the crook of her neck. Atabey's scent is a symphony of floral and fruity notes, each one intertwining with the next to create a fragrance that is both complex and enchanting. There are hints of jasmine and rose, their heady sweetness mingling with the light, airy notes of cherry blossoms and peach. 

With each inhale, Jackson is transported to a world of beauty and serenity, his mind awash with images of sun-dappled meadows and blossoming orchards.

And as he presses his lips to the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent with every breath, Jackson knows that he is lost. His tongue traces her jawline, sending a rush of heat over her body. Jackson moans at the taste of her and starts to push her back toward the bed. The backs of her legs collide with the plushness of the mattress. The silk and velvet fabrics gently caressed her skin as her body settled into the bed. 

She shudders as his hands push her skirt up her body. His touch is gentle against her. Atabey’s eyes fluttered closed at the feel of him. He nestled himself between her thighs, his tongue still tasting the skin of her neck. 

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for you, my love. I’ve been drinking my loneliness away, but you’re here now. I love you so much.” Jackson groaned. A ripping sound reached her ears, as Jackson tore the bodice of her dress.

“You don’t know how bad I want you on top of me, beneath me, screaming and crying my name sweetheart. I’ve only dreamed of this moment.” Jackson whimpered against her flesh.

That searing hot feeling flooded through Atabey again.

Atabey! Stop!

Atabey forced her eyes open, catching sight of herself in the mirror. Her tattoos were changing to red again.

 She pressed her hands against Jackson’s chest and pushed him away. Jackson stares down at her, a pained look on his face. She kicked away from him, forcing her body up the bed and toward the bed frame. She had been fighting a fierce desire from the moment she’d laid eyes on him.

Jackson’s gaze was still intense, full of desire and restraint as his eyes trailed her body. She covered her exposed skin with her hands, cowering beneath his gaze. 

“I can’t be here. I have to leave. I need to go to Aaerie’s temple. I need to go home.”

“Baby, this is your home now. I’ve waited for you for so long, and I can’t wait any longer. If you went to Aaerie’s temple, I would’ve lost you forever. And that goddess be damned if I lose you.”

Atabey met his gaze with a mixture of defiance and anger, her jaw set in a determined line as she spoke.

Aaerie be damned? Who is this man and how dare he curse your goddess?

 "I am chosen by the Goddess Aaerie to lead my people. It is my duty, my purpose. I cannot abandon them, just as Aaerie has never abandoned me.”

Atabey pushed herself off of the bed and headed toward the sheer fabric of his room. As Atabey steps out of Jackson's chamber, the labyrinthine hallways of the underworld castle stretch out before her like a maze of twisting corridors and shadowed alcoves. Each turn she takes seems to lead her further from her intended path, the oppressive darkness of the castle closing in around her like a suffocating embrace.

Jackson’s presence seems to haunt her at every turn, his voice a constant whisper in the back of her mind, urging her to stay—to return to him and let him show her how much she means to him.

But Atabey pushes on, her determination driving her forward even as doubt gnaws at the edges of her consciousness. She knows that she cannot stay, that she must escape the clutches of this place and return to her people—to fulfill her destiny as their chosen leader.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity of wandering through the maze-like corridors, Atabey reaches the doors to the castle—the threshold between the world she knows and the unknown expanse of the crimson desert beyond.

But as she reaches for the door handle, Jackson calls out to her. Turning slowly, Atabey's heart sinks as she sees Jackson standing before her once again, his expression pained and desperate.

Why does she feel guilty for leaving?

"Atabey,," his voice was loud and commanding, echoing in the silence of the deserted hallway. "You cannot leave. You will die out there without me.”

“No, I cannot stay here. My people need me.”

“If you walk out that door, death or life, whatever fate has for you is on you.”

With that, she pushes open the doors and steps outside, into the crimson desert beyond. The air is dry and acrid, the sky above dark and foreboding, illuminated only by the eerie glow of a blood-red moon.

As Atabey takes her first steps into the unknown, she feels a sudden weakness wash over her, her vision blurring and her limbs growing heavy. 

How long have I been walking?

Panic rises within her as she finally realizes that she is alone, lost in a vast and unforgiving wilderness with no one to guide her.

With a sinking heart, she looks back towards the castle, hoping to see someone behind her, ready to come to her aid. But to her horror, she finds only emptiness—the castle was no longer visible. Only the red desert was present, the wind whirling the red sand around her, as if mocking her with an impassive indifference.

Atabey trudges through the vast expanse of the crimson desert, each step feels like a struggle against the oppressive weight of the world bearing down upon her. The air is thick with the acrid scent of sand and dust, the heat of the desert beating down upon her like a relentless hammer.

With every passing moment, Atabey's strength wanes.

Her limbs grew heavier with each labored breath. The sand beneath her feet seems to shift and sway, mocking her with its endless expanse, as if daring her to continue on in the face of the odds against her.

And then, with a suddenness that takes her breath away, Atabey's legs give out beneath her, the weight of her exhaustion finally overcoming her. She collapses onto the burning sand, her body trembling with fatigue and despair as she struggles to push herself back to her feet.

But the desert shows no mercy, its unforgiving embrace swallowing her whole as she sinks deeper into its crimson depths.

**********

For a moment, Atabey lies there, helpless and alone, the vastness of the desert stretching out before her like an endless sea of torment. But then, with a quickness that catches her off guard, darkness descends upon her vision, and she slips into unconsciousness, her body succumbing to the exhaustion of her ordeal.

When Atabey awakens, she finds herself lying on Jackson's bed, the softness of the mattress beneath her a stark contrast to the harshness of the desert sands. For a moment, she is disoriented, unsure of how she came to be here, but then the memories come flooding back—the desert, the heat, the overwhelming sense of despair.

As she sits up, her heart heavy with confusion and longing, Atabey casts a gaze around the room, searching for any sign of Jackson's presence. But, she finds herself alone, the room shrouded in silence save for the sound of her own ragged breath.

As Atabey's gaze drifts up to the mirror above Jackson's bed, she is taken aback by the sight that greets her. Gone is the simple attire she wore before—now, she is adorned in a sleek black dress that hugs her curves like a second skin. The bottom of the dress stopped just above her knees, giving a peek to her thick thighs.. A leather corset cinches her waist, accentuating her thicker frame and adding a hint of edge to her, usual, innocent appearance.

For a moment, Atabey can't help but marvel at the transformation, the unfamiliar garments lending her an air of mystery and allure that she had never known before. She runs her hands over the smooth fabric of her dress, the sensation sending shivers racing down her spine as she takes in her reflection with a mixture of awe and disbelief.

But as she sits up in the bed, her attention is drawn to a more pressing concern—the parched feeling in her throat that serves as a stark reminder of her ordeal in the desert. With a grimace, she reaches up to touch her throat, the skin feeling dry and rough beneath her fingertips.

“Hello, sweetheart. You’re finally awake.”

Jackson’s sudden appearance is an unexpected interruption to Atabey's thoughts. She turns to face him, her eyes widening in surprise at the sight of him dressed all in red, the black makeup still lingering beneath his eyes like a shadow. 

In his hands, he carries a tray laden with a cup of water and a platter of various meats, cheeses, fruits, and vegetables. As he sets the tray down on the bed before her, Atabey can't help but feel a pang of gratitude at the gesture, despite the fear and resentment currently flowing through her.

"Thank you," she murmurs softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she reaches for the cup of water, the cool liquid soothing her parched throat with every sip. She casts a sideways glance at Jackson, who sat down next to her on the bed. He gently traced her jawline with his thumb before doing the same to her bottom lip.

“How are you feeling, my love?”

"Why do you insist on calling me those names?" she demands, her voice tinged with frustration. "My love, sweetheart, baby—what do they mean to you?"

Jackson meets her gaze with a steady intensity, his eyes burning with a fervor that sends a shiver down Atabey's spine. 

"Because that's what you are to me, Atabey," he replies, his voice low and husky with emotion. "You are my love, my sweetheart, my baby. We are destined to be together, now and forever."

But Atabey shakes her head, her resolve unwavering even in the face of Jackson's unmoving conviction. 

"You say things like that but you were willing to let me die out there. My goddess would never." 

Jackson's expression darkens, a shadow passing over his features as he listens to her words. 

"Your goddess," he scoffs, his voice dripping with disdain. "She doesn't choose people to lead. She chooses innocent women to feast on their souls until they die slowly, and they end up down here in the underworld with me. Besides, that was a lesson you needed to learn."

A cracking sound was heard as Atabey’s hand collided with Jackson’s face. This was the second time he disrespected her goddess and she was becoming annoyed by it. And a lesson she needed to learn? Who was he to think he was qualified to teach her anything?

Jackson laughed, his husky voice filling the space. He admired her tenacity.

“You find me funny? You are a pig for disrespecting Aaerie.”

“Of course I find you funny, my love. You have such an unwavering devotion to that heartless deity, who has never shown you any proof of her love, and yet you are not even giving me the chance to show you my love and devotion. You would rather continue worshiping an evil, soulless wench. It is quite funny.”

Atabey refuses to believe that her goddess could be capable of such cruelty. "I don't believe you," she declares, her voice laced with venom. 

A smirk appears on Jackson’s face. Darkness flickering in his eyes as he reaches out to gently cup Atabey's cheek. "Then let me show you," he murmurs, his touch sending shivers racing down her spine. "Come with me, Atabey. Let me show you the truth."

Jackson held out his hand to her. Atabey slapped it away from her before standing up from the bed. She nodded her head toward the sheer fabric.

“Lead the way”

*************

As Jackson leads Atabey through the corridors of the underworld, a sense of apprehension hangs heavy in the air. Atabey's heart pounds in her chest like a drumbeat echoing through the cavernous passageways, her senses on high alert as she follows Jackson deeper into the heart of darkness.

Could it be true? Could her goddess be nothing more than a cruel trickster, luring innocent souls to their doom in the depths of the underworld?

Finally, they come upon what appears to be a dead end—a solid wall of stone stretching out before them with no apparent way forward. But as Jackson places his hand upon what seems to be a random rock jutting out from the wall, a mirage-like filter shimmers into existence, revealing a hidden passage beyond.

With a sense of trepidation, Atabey follows Jackson through the opening, her breath catching in her throat as they step into the dimly lit chamber beyond. And then, as the darkness gives way to light, Atabey's eyes widen in astonishment at the sight that greets her—a crystal-clear lake shimmering in the center of the chamber, surrounded by a multitude of spirits weeping silently upon its shores.

Each spirit is a woman, their ethereal forms adorned with tattoos similar to Atabey's own. They sit in silent vigil around the lake, their eyes brimming with tears as they gaze into its depths with a haunting sense of longing.

Jackson calls out to them in an ancient language, his voice echoing off the walls of the chamber like a whisper in the wind. Slowly, the spirits turn to face them, their faces etched with a mixture of sorrow and resignation.

One of the spirits steps forward, her form glowing with an otherworldly light as she reaches out a hand to Atabey. With trembling fingers, Atabey reaches out to touch hers, feeling a surge of power pass between them as their hands meet.

Tears stream down the spirit's face as she speaks in a language unknown to Atabey, her words carrying the weight of centuries of sorrow and regret. But as Jackson translates her words, Atabey's heart clenches with a sense of disbelief and horror at the truth she reveals.

The spirits, it seems, were once like Atabey—chosen by their goddess Aaerie to ascend and lead their people. But instead of finding glory and honor in the world above, they were deceived and betrayed, their souls consumed by Aaerie and the remaining sent to the darkness of the underworld.

As the weight of the revelation settles upon her, Atabey feels her mind spinning with disbelief and fear. She recoils from Jackson's touch, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she struggles to process the enormity of what she has learned.

“I want to go home.” Tears started to fall from Atabey’s eyes.

“Baby, you are home. This is your home now.” Jackson grabbed the back of Atabey’s head and cradled her in his arms.

Atabey pushed against Jackson’s frame. Her eyes red from the tears in her eyes.

“I want to go back to my home. My grandmother’s home. Take me home”

“Atabey, I want nothing more than to give you everything you want. But I cannot give you that. Anything else you desire of me, it’s yours.” He traced a fingertip from her jaw down her neck and to her collarbone. “And soon, I hope that you’ll want me the way that I want you, sweetheart.”

Atabey's vision began to blur, her head swimming with dizziness as the pressure in her skull built to a crescendo. She staggered, her knees buckled beneath her as darkness closed in around her, and in the chaos of the moment, Jackson caught her in his arms, his voice a distant echo in the darkness as she slipped into unconsciousness.

********

As Atabey's eyes flutter open, she finds herself once again in Jackson's room, the familiar surroundings providing a strange sense of comfort amidst the chaos of her thoughts. But this time, there is something different—a subtle shift in the air that sets her senses on edge.

She can feel it—the presence of another, the faint sound of water splashing echoing through the room from behind a sheer black fabric that hangs like a veil between her and the unknown.

Curiosity piqued, Atabey sits up in the bed, her eyes scanning the room until they land upon her reflection in the mirror. She gasps in astonishment at the sight that greets her, a vision of herself adorned in a stunning red corset dress, the fabric hugging her curves with a sensual elegance that takes her breath away.

With a hesitant step, Atabey rises from the bed, the fabric of her dress rustling softly as she moves. Her heart races with anticipation as she approaches the sheer black fabric that separates her from whatever lies beyond.

With a trembling hand, she reaches out and pulls back the fabric, revealing a sight that leaves her breathless—a bathing pool, steam rising from its surface like wisps of fog in the morning light.

And there, amidst the swirling steam, sits Jackson, his blond hair dripping water as he cleanses himself in the warm embrace of the pool. Atabey's breath catches in her throat at the sight of him—his muscles glistening with droplets of water, his skin bronzed and radiant in the soft glow of the room.

For a moment, time seems to stand still as Atabey drinks in the sight before her, her heart pounding in her chest with a mixture of desire and longing. She feels a flush of heat spreading across her cheeks as she watches him, the intensity of her gaze never wavering as she takes in every detail of his form.

He leaned to the side and grabbed an emerald glass bottle. He poured, what smelled like eucalyptus oil, into his other hand. Atabey bit down on her bottom lips as she watched him rub that oil over his chest.

I could do that for him….

And then, as if he could read her mind, Jackson looked up at her, his eyes meeting hers with a knowing smile that sent a shiver down her spine. He could feel himself hardening under her gaze, as he held out his hand to her. 

“You are more than welcome to join me, sweetheart.”

Atabey steps back from the sheer fabric, her cheeks burn with embarrassment, her gaze fixed firmly on the ground as she tries to regain her composure. She can feel the weight of Jackson's presence in the room, his every movement sent a shiver down her spine as she struggled to meet his eyes.

Atabey looks up as Jackson walks back into the room. Water dripped from his hair down his face. The droplets slid down to his neck and chest. He swiped his hand down his bare chest and to his pelvis. Atabey couldn’t help but follow his hands on his body as he stood, naked, before her.

“Do you like what you see, baby?”

“I…You…Big” Atabey could feel her stomach clench at the erotic thoughts that started to bombard her.

Jackson. Naked. Bed. Writhing. Sweaty. Needy.

 Atabey dropped her eyes to the floor. She was still trying to process Aaerie being an evil deity and consuming the souls of her worshippers. She needed to focus. She couldn’t lose herself in Jackson’s naked form at the moment. 

Too risky.

She feels a sense of relief as Jackson hands her the cup of water that was sitting on the table in the center of the room.

As much as she wanted to take her mind off of it, she could feel Jackson staring at her. Unashamed at his nudity, he continued to watch her. 

“I would have loved for you to join me. I could have given you immense pleasure.”

“Please, don’t. You shouldn’t say things like that to me.”

“You’re right. How about I show you? Tell me to show you, sweetheart.”

Atabey looked up to see Jackson stroking himself. He bit down on his bottom lip, staring at her with a fire she had never seen in anyone before.

“No.” Atabey looked away, doing her best to not let her true feelings show. 

Jackson knelt down in front of her. He hands gently caressing her legs.

“I know you feel the connection between us, baby.” Jackson gently kissed her thighs.

“And if I do? That doesn’t mean I want to sleep with you.”

“Oh baby, neither of us will be sleeping.” Jackson’s intense gaze swept over her. He wanted nothing more than to rip that dress from her body and consume her, but he wanted her to want it too.

“You shouldn’t talk like that. I want no part of you.”

“I think you want every part of me” Jackson reached out and traced her bottom lip with his thumb.

“You truly are delusional.” Atabey ran her tongue over her lips, tasting his finger in the process.

“Delusional? Perhaps I’m more perceptive than you want me to be. I am a god, sweetheart.”

Atabey, reluctantly, forced her legs closed and moved away from him. Jackson had a way with words that made her want to give her all to him. But she knew she couldn’t do that. She suddenly remembered she had a cup of water in her hand, due to its content spilling onto her from her shaky hands. 

As she drinks her water, Atabey can't help but feel a surge of curiosity bubbling within her. 

"Was it you who dressed me in these clothes?" she asked.

Jackson shook his head, his expression solemn. "No, it was Christopher's mate," he replied, his voice low. "She's been taking care of you while you were unconscious."

Atabey wasn’t sure if she could believe him. Her head was still spinning from her current predicament.

"Why would Aaerie take the souls of her worshippers?" she asked, her voice full of anger and pain.

Jackson's gaze darkened, a shadow passing over his features as he spoke. "Aaerie has always been jealous of any woman, human or deity, that surpasses her in beauty," he explains, his voice heavy with sorrow. "She marks them with tattoos and grooms them to believe they will lead their people into prosperity."

He paused, his eyes searching Atabey's for understanding.``I know because I've sat back and watched for millennia," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "The souls of those consumed cry out to me, which is why I had them hidden behind that mirage wall."

Atabey's heart clenched at the revelation, a sense of horror washed over her as she realized the extent of Aaerie's cruelty. "But why me?" she whispered, her voice trembling with fear.

Jackson's gaze softened, a look of profound sadness in his eyes as he reached out to gently cup Atabey's cheek. "Because you are the purest soul Aaerie has ever found," he murmured, his voice filled with tenderness. "When I saw you, I knew I couldn't bear to see how that future would unfold for you. That's why I appeared to you those months ago, I wanted to take you with me to avoid the danger that awaited you at Aaerie's temple."

Jackson could see the despair on Atabey’s face. He took the cup from her shaking hand. He cupped her face and looked her in the eyes, Atabey could see the sadness in his.

“I can never go home. My grandmother’s home…”

“I’m so sorry you found out your purpose was a lie, my love. I wish I could take the pain and confusion from you but you’re safe here with me. I will take care of you. And it is important that you do not go and talk to the spirits of your sisters alone. They are your family, but they are detached from their bodies. They are not who they once were and spirits can become malevolent. Promise me, you won’t go alone.”

Atabey thought for a moment. Could she really trust his word? She thought about her sisters’ spirits behind that wall and her heart sank.

“I promise.”

Jackson smiled warmly at Atabey.

Atabey looked into Jackson's eyes, she felt a strange pull at her chest—a sensation she can't quite explain but one that fills her with warmth and a sense of belonging. She saw it reflected in his eyes, the depth of his emotions laid bare for her to see, the way he cared deeply for her, willing to move paradise and hell to ensure her safety and happiness.

“Do you need anything, Atabey?" Jackson asked, his voice soft with concern. "Anything at all, just name it."

Atabey hesitated for a moment, her mind raced with possibilities before settling on a simple request. "I'm hungry," she admitted, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Jackson's smile is like a ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds as he takes her hand in his.

“You might want to put some clothes on,” Atabey giggled. Jackson looked down at his nakedness and smirked. He could see Atabey’s eyes drop down to his erection and she quickly looked away. 

Jackson quickly went to his drawers and pulled out a pair of leather pants. He threw them on and made his way back to Atabey, who was looking at herself in the mirror above the bed.

“You’re beautiful, Atabey”

“Thank you. So are you.” Atabey murmured. It pulled on Jackson’s heart to hear her say that to him. 

Atabey laced her arm through his, and stepped out into the hall. The silence was comforting as she followed his lead to the dining hall. The room is bathed in the warm glow of candle lit chandeliers, their flickering flames casting dancing shadows across the marble floor. 

At the center of the room stood a long marble table, its surface adorned with an array of fruits and delicacies fit for a king. Atabey's eyes lit up at the sight of the peaches, her favorite fruit, nestled amongst the other offerings.

With a delighted squeal, she reaches out and grabs a peach, its juicy flesh yielding beneath her fingers as she takes a bite. The sweetness exploded on her tongue, filling her mouth with flavor as she savored every delicious morsel.

As they sat down to eat, Atabey and Jackson engaged in a long conversation, their words flowing freely as they shared stories and dreams. Atabey tells Jackson about her garden, how she loves to spend her days planting flowers and tending to the various fruits and vegetables that grow there. She speaks of her love for drawing, the way it allows her to express herself and capture the beauty of the world around her.

Jackson listens intently, his eyes shining with genuine interest as Atabey talks about her favorite things. For the first time in what feels like an eternity, he feels a spark of joy ignite within him—a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, there is more to life in the underworld than he ever dared to imagine. And as he looks at Atabey, her eyes alight with passion and excitement, he knows that he would do anything to keep that spark alive, to see her smile and hear her laughter echo through the halls of his lonely kingdom always.

********

Six Months Later

Atabey sinks into the warm, fragrant waters of the bathing pool, she feels the tension of the day melting away with each passing moment. The oils, scented with the sweet fragrance of peaches and the comforting warmth of vanilla, envelop her in a cocoon of relaxation, filling her senses with a sense of tranquility and calm.

Her mind drifts back to the events of the past six months—six months spent in Jackson's company. In the beginning, she had been hesitant to trust him, wary of his enigmatic charm and the air of danger that seemed to cling to him like a shadow. But as time passed and she learned more about Aaerie and her twisted nature, she found herself opening up to him, slowly but surely, allowing herself to lean on him for support and guidance.

Despite his intimidating presence and the occasional glimpses of anger that flared within him like a raging storm, Jackson had always been soft and gentle with her—his voice never rising, his touch always tender and reassuring. He had a way of making her feel safe and secure, as though nothing could harm her as long as he was by her side.

And as she reflected on their time together, Atabey found herself falling deeper and deeper under his spell, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. She can't deny the pull of his charisma, the way his mere presence fills her with a sense of warmth and belonging she has never known before.

But amidst the swirling waters of the bathing pool, Atabey finds herself grappling with a whirlwind of emotions—fear and desire warring within her heart as she struggles to make sense of her feelings for Jackson. She knows that he is not without his flaws, that there are parts of him that are dark and dangerous, but she can't help but be drawn to him nonetheless, captivated by the depth of his passion and the intensity of his love.

Just as she begins to lose herself in the blissful embrace of the waters, she could hear Jackson enter the other room. She could hear the rustling of paper and drawing implements in hand. He placed them gently on the bed, his movements graceful and deliberate, before turning to leave the room.

But before he can make his exit, Atabey calls out his name, the sound echoing softly through the chamber. Jackson pauses in his steps, turning to face her with a curious expression as he steps into the bathing area and leans against the wall.

Atabey looks up at him, her eyes drinking in the sight of him—his black and red color-blocked outfit contrasting sharply against the pale stone walls of the chamber, his blond hair falling in loose waves around his face. She feels a smile tugging at the corners of her lips, a playful twinkle dancing in her eyes as she leans on her arms against the edge of the bathing pool.

"Enjoying your bath, sweetheart?" Jackson asks, his voice warm and inviting as he meets her gaze.

Atabey nods, her smile widening as she basks in the warmth of his attention. Images filled her mind.  "I am," she replies, her voice soft and melodious. "But it would be even better with some company."

Jackson's lips curve into a smile, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he meets her gaze. "Is that an invitation?" he asks, his tone teasing as he steps closer to the edge of the pool.

Atabey's heart skips a beat at the proximity of him, her pulse quickening with anticipation as she nods eagerly. "Of course," she replies, breathlessly. "I would love nothing more than to share this moment with you." 

Jackson begins to remove his clothes. Atabey watches as each item of clothing hits the floor. He’s standing in front of her in all of his naked glory. He’s not erect this time but he’s still big. Atabey’s heartbeat quickens at the sight of him.

Jackson joined Atabey in the bathing pool, the warm water enveloping them both in a soothing embrace, sending ripples of relaxation coursing through their bodies. Atabey felt a sense of contentment wash over her as Jackson settled beside her, his presence like a comforting anchor amidst the swirling waters.

With a gentle touch, Jackson took Atabey's feet in his hands, his fingers working magic as he began to massage away the tension of the day. Atabey sighed with pleasure, closing her eyes as she surrendered to the sensation, her muscles melting beneath Jackson's skilled touch.

“In the depths of the underworld, where shadows reign,

I found a light that banished all my pain.

With every breath, with every beat of my heart,

I knew that you were mine, right from the start.

In your arms, I've found my sanctuary,

A love so true, it's beyond ordinary.

With every touch, with every whispered vow,

I know that I need you, here and now.

So let me hold you close, never let you go,

Together, we'll face whatever storms may blow.

For in your love, I've found my home,

Forever and always, you'll never be alone

Oh, Atabey, my love, my heart's desire,

You set my soul on fire.

I need you more than words can say,

Forever and always, in every way.”

“That song is beautiful Jackson” Atabey sighed, his husky voice sending a shiver through her, despite the water being warm.

“As beautiful as my inspiration.” Jackson looked at her adoringly.

As they relax in the warmth of the bathing pool, conversation flows easily between them, the intimate setting fostering a sense of closeness and connection. Atabey can't help but feel a sense of curiosity tugging at her mind as she considers the question that has been lingering on her lips.

"Where do you usually sleep, Jackson?" she asked, her voice soft and curious.

Jackson's expression softens, a hint of warmth in his eyes as he meets her gaze. "I have another room not far from here," he replied, his voice gentle and reassuring. "It's nothing compared to this one, but it suits my needs just fine."

Atabey nods, a thoughtful expression crossed her features as she considered his words. And then, with a suddenness that surprises even her, she finds herself blurting out the question that has been weighing on her mind.

"Would you like to join me in sleeping in your bed tonight?"

Jackson's eyes widened in surprise at the unexpected invitation, his lips curving into a smile as he met Atabey's gaze. "I would enjoy that," he replied, his voice filled with warmth and sincerity.

With a sense of excitement fluttering in her chest, Atabey leans in closer to Jackson, her heart racing with anticipation as she looks forward to spending the night in his arms, the warmth of their shared connection filling her with a sense of belonging and comfort she has never known before.

**********

Atabey reclined in Jackson's bed, she felt a sense of tranquility wash over her, the soft silk of the sheets caressed her skin like a lover's touch. The room is bathed in the warm glow of tall red candles, their flickering flames casted dancing shadows across the walls and ceiling, creating an atmosphere that is both intimate and seductive.

When Jackson enters the room with a tray of wine, strawberries, and peaches, Atabey's breath catches in her throat at the sight of him. His leather pants were tight on his thigh. They were untied at the waist, giving her a peak of his flesh. He decided to go shirtless, his beautiful chest and abs on display.

His presence filled the room with a magnetic energy, drawing her gaze to him like a moth to a flame.

Jackson also takes in the sight of Atabey. Her red silk robe clinging to her curves in all the right places. The slit in the fabric is high, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of her thighs, and Jackson feels a surge of desire course through him at the sight.

With a graceful flourish, Jackson places the tray on the table beside the bed and passes Atabey a glass of wine. She takes it with a grateful smile, her fingers brushing against his as she accepts the glass.

"Thank you," she murmurs softly.

As she takes a sip of the wine, Atabey is enveloped in its rich, deep cherry flavor, the taste filling her mouth with a sense of warmth and decadence. She closed her eyes, savoring the sensation as it danced across her tongue, her senses heightened by the intoxicating aroma of the candles and the heady presence of Jackson beside her.

Atabey placed her glass back on the table and beckoned Jackson closer to her with her finger. He obliged, knees falling onto the bed, his hand following behind, slowly he crawled toward her. They stare at one another, the air between them crackles with tension, the space filled with a palpable sense of lust and desire. 

They have shared countless moments together, but this one feels different, charged with an electric energy that seems to hum in the air around them.

Jackson's gaze is intense, his dark eyes burned with a hunger that mirrored her own. He reached out a hand, cupping Atabey's cheek in his palm with a gentleness that belied the intensity of his emotions.

He closed the distance between them, his lips met hers in a kiss that sent sparks flying through her veins.

Atabey's breath catches in her throat at the sensation, her entire body came alive with a rush of heat and longing. His lips are warm and soft against hers, moving with a rhythm that is both tender and passionate, as though they have been waiting for this moment their entire lives.

“Atabey,” Jackson whimpered against her lips, “I need you.”

Jackson’s hands went to the ties of her robe. One pull of the fabric and it was falling away from her body. She was so beautiful naked. Ths moles that adorned her skin around her breasts were stunning. Jackson wanted his hands on her everywhere at once. His fingers traced the gold tattoos of her skin, and as he did—they slowly turned crimson.

Atabey looked up in the mirror and at her body in awe. 

“They’re turning red again” She whispered.

“Yes. It’s a sign of your devotion changing from Aaerie to me.” Jackson explained.

Atabey looked back at Jackson and placed her hand around the back of his neck. She pulled him back toward her and kissed him hard, catching him off guard. Her hands pulled at his leather pants, nearly ripping them off of his body.

Jackson was surprised by her boldness, but he didn’t want to push her too much.

“Baby,” Jackson said, hardly getting the word out between her kisses, “I want you to take control tonight.”

“Hmmm?” Atabey was barely listening as she wrapped her legs tight around his waist and her pelvis was raised up and down, pushing against his hardened length..

“It’s you tonight.” Jackson said, sitting back on his knees.

“Me? But..why?” Atabey asked breathlessly.

“Sweetheart, I know that when you devoted your life to her that meant you remained pure. You haven’t known any man and as much as I’d like to claim your body on every surface in this room, I want your first time to be comfortable. I want you to know that I will only do whatever you allow me to.” 

Atabey’s mind ran wild at his words. 

White-hot and consuming. Bodies, naked and grinding against one another. Hands on her hips as he’s between her lush thighs. She wanted all of him, all at once.

Jackson moved so that he was laying on his back, in the center of the bed, and she was on top of him, sitting on my hips.

“My hands will stay right here” he informed her, holding onto the ornate headboard, “You are in control, my love. My body is yours to do as you wish. Do anything you’d like to me.”

Jackson closed his eyes, a pleasant smile on his lips as he waited for Atabey’s touch.

She moved over for a second, but didn’t get off him. 

Jackson peeked at her and she had the red silk tie of her robe in hand. Smiling, she leaned down and kissed him gently. Atabey then laid the tie over his eyes, not tying it behind his head, just letting it sit there, hiding her from his view.

“I love this so far.” Jackson smiled dreamily.

“Ka-Yee, God of the Underworld. You are powerful and intimidating but you are also beautiful and thoughtful. While my tattoos are changing, showing my devotion to you, tonight…you belong to me. You are to devote every part of your being to me. Is that clear?”

“Yes sweetheart,” Jackson sighed. Jackson couldn’t describe the feeling of her using his other name. She had never used it since he introduced himself to her, but this let him know that she was truly devoted to him. 

He could feel her crawl up his chest and then her legs were on both sides of his head. Her honey scent clouded his mind. He could feel the warmth emanating from her, making him salivate. He flicked his tongue out, in hopes of catching a taste but she wasn’t close enough.

“Atabey, sweetheart..Please, I need to taste you”

“I…I don’t,-”

“It’s okay love, just sit down. I’ll do all the work”

Atabey hesitated before slightly lowering herself down. Jackson could feel her getting closer but not close enough. 

“It’s fine, baby. A little lower, let me taste you baby.”

Atabey lowered herself onto Jackson’s face. His tongue immediately pushed between her slick folds. Jackson hummed in delight as he lapped at her juices. She became wetter as he continued to lick and suck at her. He took her sensitive bud, gently, between his teeth. 

Atabey sighed at the unfamiliar feeling. She had never felt like this before. No man has ever touched her and she never touched herself. Jackson was the only man to do this to her and she was enjoying every minute of it. 

Atabey screamed out loud, staring blankly at the mirror above the bed, as Jackson’s lush lips covered her clit. He moved his tongue over it. Side to side, then up and down…then in circles, wet, hot circles.

His tongue, his lips, his teeth. He used them all. 

He could feel her legs beginning to tremble. 

Jackson encouraged Atabey to release for him. He wanted to drink every drop of her sweet nectar. Atabey’s cries of pleasure reverberated off the walls. That only encouraged Jackson to push her to the edge again. He wanted all that she could give him and more.

“That’s it baby. Come for me baby. Let it go” 

Atabey’s hands gripped the headboard. She could hardly hold herself up. This feeling was intense. She cried as she released onto his face, her legs locking around his head. Jackson pushed his tongue further inside of her, relishing in whatever remained.

“Jackson, please please please” Atabey chanted over and over.

“Please what baby? Tell me what you want”

“I want you. I want you so bad”

“Then have me baby. I’m yours”

Atabey scooted back, that way she was hovering over his dick that was standing straight up. 

“Jackson, I’m going to need your help. I’ve never done this.”

“It’s okay baby. I’ll teach you. May I have my eyes?”

Atabey removed the tie from his face. Jackson looked up at her and smiled. Her face was flushed from her orgasm. The robe she was wearing had joined his pants on the floor. Jackson was entranced by the view of her naked body. The now red tattoos glimmered in the candlelight of the room. 

“You are so beautiful, Atabey.”

“Thank you”

Atabey felt her face heat up as Jackson’s eyes raked over her body. At one time, the idea of being with a man would have sent Atabey straight to Aaerie’s temple. This time, her body was singing and rejoicing. 

“Close your eyes”

Atabey didn’t argue with him.

“I want you to imagine me behind you. Imagine my fingers gently caressing your skin.”

Atabey could feel phantom hands on her body. The feeling sent a rush of heat through her body.

“Now, imagine me gently pushing you forward. You’re on your hands and knees for me. I’m spreading your wet lips open again, sliding my fingers between your wet folds. Can you feel me baby?”

“Yes, yes I feel you”

“Good. I want you to touch yourself baby. Slide your fingers in, nice and slow”

Atabey obeyed. Even though he said she would be in control, he didn’t have a problem letting him take the reins.

“That’s it baby. Just like that. Keep those fingers going”

Atabey slowly pumped her fingers in and out. This was all new to her but it was exciting. Jackson ignited something in her that she never knew could be lit.

“Lean forward for me baby” Again, Atabey obliged.

Jackson lifted himself up on his elbows. He took one of her nipples into her mouth. Atabey whimpered at the feeling of his hot mouth, once again, on her body. The combination of her fingers and his mouth sent shocks through her body. 

“You taste so sweet, my love. Are you ready for me to be inside of you?”

“I am”

“Good, I’m going to use my hands for a moment.”

Jackson grabbed Atabey’s wrist and slowly pulled her fingers out of her. He put them to his lips, kissing them before taking them in his mouth. He moaned at her sweet taste. He gently grabbed on to her waist and slid her down to his hardened shaft. He lifted her up so that she was directly over him.

“Take me in your hands, sweetheart.”

Jackson hissed as Atabey’s soft hands wrapped around him. He felt like he could come right then and there. 

“Lower yourself on to me, baby”

Jackson bit down on his lip as he felt his tip brush against Atabey’s slick folds. She was so wet for him, he couldn’t wait to be inside her. He slowly raised his hips to slip inside of her more. He watched her face contort in discomfort.

“Take your time, baby. I’m right here.”

Atabey began to lower herself more onto him more. He was big and this was new to her. He stretched her but it made her feel wonderful. She was beginning to feel alive. 

Jackson kept his hands planted onto her waist and planted his feet on the bed. He slowly raised his hips to meet hers. Atabey gasped at the sudden feeling. This was better than sitting in the sun. This was better than her grandmother’s garden.

To think, she would’ve missed this feeling if he had not taken her. She was glad he did.

Atabey anchored her hands on his chest as he picked up his pace. He grunted as his shaft pumped into her tight walls. She was warm and wet. It was nothing like Jackson had ever dreamed before. His nerves were sparking with renewed life. It was sheer bliss.

“That’s it, baby. Take me. You’re doing so good for me.”

Her body slammed up and down. 

She panted his name over and over again, “Ka-Yee, Ka-Yee, Ka-Yee” She couldn’t say it enough. It was etched into every cell in her body. “Ka-Yee….Jackson”

“Kiss me,” Jackson growled.

She meshed her mouth against his, his hand holding her by the back of her neck. She gasped in pleasure and he swallowed the sound. Fast and hard, his tongue sparred with her as she rode him.

“Come for me, sweetheart. Show me how much you love having me inside you. Show me, baby” Jackson growled.

Atabey couldn’t hold back. Her orgasm clouded her vision. She threw back her head in pleasure, with the tightening of her stomach. Her nails dug into the flesh of his chest, making him hiss. Jackson could feel her leaking onto him like a waterfall. His hips and pelvis were soaked from her orgasm.

 He reared into her at an incredible pace, chasing his own orgasm.

“Oh, fuck baby. I love you, I adore you.” Jackson whimpered.

The sound of their skin pounding against one another, bounced off of the walls. His feet dug into the mattress of his bed as he continued to sink into her. His orgasm made his hips stutter, as he pushed his seed into her womb.

Atabey collapsed onto his chest. She was breathless, but also full of life. She could see that her tattoos were now completely red. She was pulled into his orbit and she didn’t want to leave. Jackson traced circles on her back as the two of them caught their breath.

“Mine, baby. You’re mine forever.”

“Yours, Ka-Yee. Yours”

********************

Atabey’s eyes slowly opened. She hadn’t realized that she had fallen asleep. She patted the spot on the bed next to her to see that Jackson was not there. Atabey sat up, her body sore from the night before.

She grabbed her robe from the floor and put it on. She was used to not seeing other people around, but on the off chance someone else was there-she wanted to be covered. She stepped outside of the room, looking around the empty halls. It was quiet. She wondered where Jackson was. 

She decided to look for him. And since this castle was going to be her new home, she figured she may as well explore it anyway. She walked down the halls, making random turns in the labyrinth. She figured there had to be a method to find your way around here. Her hands glided across the jeweled walls. The topaz and aquamarine glimmering in the candle light.

She passed by an opening in the hall that looked familiar to her. She then remembered it was where the souls of her fallen sisters were. She bit down on her lip and looked over her shoulder. 

Still, no one was around.

Jackson wouldn’t be upset with her for paying her respects, right?

Atabey wandered down the hall and approached the solid rocks. She placed her hands on each one until she found the right one to open up the room, where her sisters were.

The spirits turned to face her. The sadness in their eyes were evident. 

“Hello, my sisters. I hope you can understand me. I am sorry about what happened to you. I, too, thought Aaerie was a benevolent goddess, but to hear that she took your souls and then condemned you to The Underworld, is so heartbreaking. But I want you to know that I won’t be going back to ascend. I’ll be here with Jackson and with you. Maybe one day, I can understand you and then we can talk more and I can learn from you.”

One of the spirits approached Atabey and held out her hand. She placed it onto Atabey’s cheek. Atabey was surprised she could feel it but welcomed the gentle touch.

I can understand you.

Atabey’s eyes widened. 

“That’s great. Maybe I can understand you now because I devoted myself to Jackson and my tattoos are red now”

The spirit stepped away from Atabey, horror in her eyes.

You what?!

The other spirits surrounded her now. Looks of sadness, anger, and horror on their faces.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Atabey was confused. If Aaerie was the one to wrong them, why were they upset about Jackson.

You devoted yourself to that monster. You couldn’t understand us because he was changing our language. We were trying to warn you sister. Another spirit spoke up.

“Monster?I don’t understand. Jackson told me that Aaerie was the one who stole your souls and sent you down here.”

No, sister. Jackson stole us from Aaerie. He has been stealing Chosen Daughters for millennia. And when you don’t devote yourself to him, he traps your soul here forever. Sister, you have cursed yourself.

Atabey’s head began to hurt. Cursed herself? No. She couldn’t have. Jackson wouldn’t do that. He said that he loved her. 

“No, that cannot be true. Jackson loves me.”

Jackson loves no one. 

“Sweetheart?”

Atabey looked over her shoulder.

She swallowed hard as Jackson approached, a dark cloud seemed to settle over his features, his brows furrowed in frustration and anger.

"Atabey, what are you doing?" Jackson's voice was sharp with anger, his eyes flashed with intensity as he confronted her. "I warned you about the dangers of meddling with the spirits. Do you not realize the peril you place yourself in?"

“They just told me that you stole them from Aaerie and trapped their souls down here because they wouldn’t devote themselves to you. And that when I devoted myself to you, I cursed myself. Tell me that’s not true. Please, tell me it’s not true”

“Sweetheart, they are lying to you. I would never-”

Lies, Ka-Yee! You have stolen another Chosen Daughter. You have cursed her soul for eternity. You are ev-

The spirit’s words were cut off by a gulf of flames consuming her. Her screams echoed in the room. One by one, the souls of her sisters caught alight. Their pain chilling Atabey to the bone.

Jackson's eyes blazed with fury, his features contorted into a mask of rage. His jaw clenched tightly, muscles tensing beneath the surface of his skin as his brows furrowed in a deep scowl. The lines of his face, usually smooth and composed, now twisted into a snarl of anger, every line etched with the intensity of his emotions.

His lips, usually soft and inviting, were now pressed into a thin line, a stark contrast to the simmering fire in his eyes. A vein pulsed angrily at his temple, throbbing with the force of his rage as he struggled to contain the storm brewing within him.

His nostrils flared with each sharp intake of breath, the sound a low growl of frustration escaping his lips.

Atabey had not seen him this way since she was first brought here.

He looked over to Atabey, flames in his eyes. He quickly approached her but she moved away from him, him only catching her robe-tearing it from her body. Atabey ran into the stone maze of the hallways. She didn’t know where she was going but she knew she had to get away. Maybe she could find the door to the Red Desert and escape. That sandy hell would be better than staying here with Jackson. 

Atabey was thrown off balance by the ground in front of her opening. She fell to the floor, scooting back as far as she could from the pit in front of her. Flames erupted from the ground as Jackson pulled himself through the pit.

As Atabey's gaze met Jackson's, she was suddenly overcome by a wave of terror that threatened to paralyze her. His eyes, once warm and inviting, now seemed to glint with a malevolent gleam, cold and empty as they bore into her with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine.

His features, usually handsome and alluring, were twisted into a grotesque mask of menace, every line etched with a predatory hunger that made her blood run cold. His lips, usually soft and inviting, were now pulled back into a snarl, revealing the glint of sharpened teeth that seemed to glisten in the dim light.

A dark shadow seemed to hang over him, casting his face into deep relief and accentuating the menacing aura that surrounded him. His nostrils flared with each ragged breath, the sound a low, guttural growl that echoed ominously in the air.

But it was his expression that truly terrified her—a look of pure, unadulterated malice that seemed to pierce through her very soul, stripped away the facade of safety and left her feeling exposed and vulnerable in its wake.

As Jackson's hand closed around Atabey's ankle, she was suddenly overwhelmed by a searing sensation that felt like flames licking at her skin. The touch, once filled with warmth and tenderness, now sent waves of agony rippling through her body, every nerve ablaze with fiery torment.

It was as if his touch had transformed into something sinister and malevolent, a cruel mockery of the intimacy they had shared just hours before. Where once she had felt safe and protected in his embrace, now she was consumed by a burning pain that seemed to radiate from his touch like a scorching inferno.

Atabey gasped in shock as the heat seared through her flesh, her skin blistering beneath his grasp. The sensation was unlike anything she had ever experienced, a relentless onslaught of agony that left her feeling helpless and vulnerable in its wake.

But even as she cried out in pain, there was something else lurking beneath the surface—a sense of betrayal and betrayal that cut deeper than any physical wound. To feel such agony at the hands of the one she had trusted implicitly was a bitter pill to swallow, a harsh reminder of the darkness that lurked within even the most seemingly benign of beings.

And as Atabey writhed in agony, she couldn't help but wonder how she had been so blind to the true nature of him. In that moment, she realized that the warmth she had felt in his embrace had been nothing more than a cruel illusion—a fleeting glimpse of a happiness that was never meant to last.

“Jackson, please. Let me go. Please, please, please.”

Jackson's laughter echoed through the chamber, a chilling sound that sent shivers down Atabey's spine. It was a laugh devoid of warmth or mirth, a sinister melody that filled the air with a sense of foreboding and dread.

It was a laughter that spoke of dark intentions and hidden malice, a taunting reminder of the danger that lurked behind Jackson's enigmatic facade.

“My sweet Atabey, I told you that you are mine forever. I will never let you go.”

[queenlachimolala]

If you are an Acotar fanfic writer and you are thinking about writing a party scene, can you make Jackson Wang hosting the party?

I would love to see Jackson randomly throwing a ball in an Acotar fanfic.

[kpop-in-new-albion]

This is how you do it. I’m not even kidding. This was perfect. That twist really got me, you have no idea. All the details really work with the ending, especially because you don’t see it until you read through it again. Honestly, this was a pure masterpiece. Thank you, thank you, thank you so very much for writing this! It was pure perfection!

Run to you~ Jackson Wang Mafia Drabble

❖ Got7, Jackson Wang x gender neutral reader

❖ Drabble, mafia au/angst/fluff

❖ Warnings: Angst?, mentions of blood, murder, and guns

❖ wc:672

. ⋅˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ ⋅˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Hope you enjoy!

. ⋅˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ ⋅˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Jackson’s heart pounded in his chest. Callused palms soft from dedicated moisturizing, were now cold and sweaty. Beads of ice-cold sweat dripping down his back as he watched them lead you out. Never in his life could he recall feeling so anxious, in all his years as a mafia boss. Jackson had survived tortures, bullet wounds, he’d been stabbed and beaten. Hell, he had watched the life drain from men’s eyes, their blood staining his hands as they cursed him with their last breath.

Keep reading

[keehomania]

frostbite (동상) ㅡ min yoongi (민윤기)

the second part can be found here

✧.* 18+

“cold as ice, hard as stone, never choose men over being alone,” was what your mother had found herself repeating to you your entire life. maybe not your entire life, actually. you couldn't really remember when the phrase was spoken into life, perhaps when you had turned twelve, thirteen; when you began to develop and mature, when push-up bras began to substitute training bras, when makeup began to gain significance, when she had noticed how older and younger men alike had started to smirk and leer more and more shamefully whenever you passed by.

it wasn't because she had it out for you. quite the opposite, actually. it was something her mother had sang to her, an invention of her own she had sang to life when hormones began to work faster than she could blink. she thought it would raise awareness as a subtle way for her to let her daughter know that no man could ever be trusted in the slightest, but your mother didn't care to listen. it worked the first few years of her adolescence; she avoided relationships all throughout high school and college, but all good things come to an end. after she had graduated and gone into finance the way she had planned, things took a turn when she met your father. no one could have predicted the outcome. their relationship moved quickly, but smoothly. their friends had sworn up and down that they could never imagine them in an argument, until they got married. with marriage came a child, you. with a child came more responsibilities, with which came more money spent. they spent and spent until they had nothing left to spend, and that's when the verbal arguments had reached a new low.

by the time you had turned fifteen, you found yourself consoling your mother as much as she allowed you to. it was draining, you found yourself asking the man in the sky for a way out. a way out was in store, just not for you. one night, just a little after midnight, your father had packed his bags and left after another one of their more tense fights, swearing to find a younger, prettier, richer woman. you had both assumed it was another one of his empty threats, but you would never come to know, as that was the last time either of you have seen or heard from him.

for weeks on end following his departure, your mother had no tears left to cry. she was too quiet, white in the face as if all the blood has been drained from her body. she wasn't interested in discussing what had happened ever again. more weeks passed and winter came along, and she had fallen ill. you had picked up a job at fifteen and worked as many shifts as you could just to keep the house warm, to keep food on the table at least until december's weather had passed. she knew you had been trying, and you knew she was grateful, but you couldn't shake the uneasy feeling as her condition worsened, as did the weather.

blizzards were uncommon in daegu. sure, it was normal to wake up to over ten inches of snow, but the storms just never seemed to take action. that's why you were surprised to have woken up just half an hour past four in the morning, to the sound of ice pounding on your windows and vicious wind blowing. your room was on the second floor, completely untouched, and you felt relieved for just a second. that second quickly passed when you called out for your mother, only to be met with silence. maybe she didn't hear you, maybe she had mistaken your voice for the wind; it's what you so badly wanted to believe as you made your way down the stairs. your heart stopped when you had realized that hope was more than a call away.

despite the untouched stairs and floor above, the living room she had been sleeping in was a wreck. the air was noticably colder, windows broken, glass shattered on the wet floor. the storm had done all the damage, yet that still wasn't the worst part. your mother was still on the couch, her skin as pale as ever. she was facing the ceiling, eyes open. you felt your heart sink to your stomach, and you've been dreading the feeling ever since. you've carried the grief ever since it happened, tears stinging whenever november made an appearance, whenever the temperature shifted. your mother had frozen to death, and how could you ever get over it, how could you ever function? you dreaded your father more than anything, knowing that if she could've beared to sleep in their shared room on the floor above, she would've been alive.

that was the first moment you had taken her words to heart. cold as ice, hard as stone, never choose men over being alone.

you had made it through the rest of high school without any interest in dating, or men in general. you had graduated the way you pictured yourself graduating, and you did it alone. it was a lonely road before anything else, but it was something you learned to live with. you spent your last summer as a high school student working to kill the time, waiting for the college season to start. everyone from your class had gone their separate ways, but you couldn't care less. every day seemed the same—wake up, eat, work, come home, eat, sleep. you went to sleep dreading the night, and woke up dreading the day. on one particular day, a man had stopped you in your tracks on the way to work. all he had to say was, “wouldn't hurt to smile, would it?” all it did was put a scowl on your face.

when summer had finally come to an end, you were the most ecstatic you've been in in the last four years. you couldn't wait to leave the house you grew up in—sell it, rent it out, it didn't matter. all you wanted was out. you ended up renting it out to an anonymous customer, which definitely should've raised some alarms, but you couldn't care less. they needed the house, you needed the money; they could've turned it into a meth lab for all you cared.

daegu university was located on the other side of town. it was a good college, despite how far away it was, which meant it was worth the agonizing drive. it was almost cartoonishly big, big and urban. nothing less was to be expected of a private school with a low acceptance rate and big bills. you had met with the principal of the university a total of three times. the first time was to congratulate you for being accepted, which had taken you aback. it was the first time in a long time you had allowed yourself to grin from ear to ear. the second time was just a few days later, he had shown you around the campus in advance, to avoid any confusion when the halls were packed to the brim. the third and final time was to get you comfortable in your dorm, where you met your dorm roommate.

the school itself was filled with spoiled, conceited kids with little to no knowledge and extended trust funds. it truly was a sight for sore eyes in the worst way possible. often did you find yourself rolling your eyes at their remarks and complaints, it was incredible how they could be so out of touch with reality and out of sync with the real world. you couldn't keep up with the rich people bullshit—stained shoes, last season clothes, companies going bankrupt. just a month into college, you learned to tune everything out, nearly everything.

your roommate took the cake, and you knew it. you felt the last shreds of your patience go numb when you had first met him. for the sake of your education, you told yourself that having a guy as your roommate would be no issue. you didb't want to leave a sour taste in the principal's mouth, so you put on a smile and complied. all you had to do was ignore him, just as you had been doing your whole life. he was quiet when you had first met, he was quiet throughout the many times you had spotted him during lectures or lunch. min yoongi—out of his entire group of friends, he seemed to be the most tame. that had lasted until he grew more comfortable and less mindful of your presence.

awake at the peak of midnight, you typed away at your laptop. your forehead was slick with sweat, hair tied back as you focused on your presentation. yoongi had gone out, perhaps with his friends. the room was quiet, aside from the sound of the wind whistling from outside. the silence didn't last as long as you needed it to, however, your heart practically skipping a beat as the door swung open. you really could've sworn you had locked it, making a mental note to double-check from that point on. the room was dark, so you couldn't make out who had entered until the lights flickered on. the smell of soju was pungent as yoongi stumbled into the room, making your nostrils flare. you couldn't bite back the groan that left your mouth as he stumbled in, only because he wasn't entering alone, for the third night in a row. he had come in with another sorority girl, hand around her waist as their lips remained locked in a drunken dance, their feet tumbling over each other. yoongi waved you off as if to let you know he didn't give a shit, you could either stay and watch or leave, so you left for the third night in a row. you took your laptop with you and remained sat outside of the door, typing hastily while you prepared yourself for yet another night of listening to their ten minutes of pleasure.

while you continued to type away, you felt a tap on your shoulder. already pissed off, you bit back a hiss as you snapped your head to the side. greeted by your friend's smile, you were relieved you didn't snap at him. “shit, third night in a row? he's on a roll, isn't he?” kim taehyung was the first person that introduced himself to you, and on your first day, too. at first, you had no interest in being his friend, but quickly warmed up to him once you realized just how much you had in common. he was from bukgu, just like you. he liked the same things you did, but more importantly, disliked the same things as you—men and rich people. men, more or less—he cheered you on when you found yourself ranting about men and their behavior, even if he did it jokingly. his vendetta against the rich was what made him stick out, as he had gotten into the university due to his promising resumé, accepting a full scholarship. with that being said, he was always respectful towards you, treating you as a friend and nothing more.

“i don't know how you can stand to hang out with him,” you responded, typing away as he allowed himself to sit next to you, throwing a glance at the screen. “he's a good friend, don't sweat it,” he paused, a smile crossing his lips. “but i'm not dumb enough to live with him, fuck no.”

yoongi was all too quiet, even with his friends, but he made up for that with many habits that failed to please you. those habits ranged from chainsmoking to excessive drinking to the dehumanizing way he fucked every girl with two legs and a functioning mouth. shit, it didn't matter if the girls had two legs or three, he'd find a way to spread them as long as he was in the mood, but they'd never get a glance from him the next day, let alone a text back. he'd just move onto the next victim.

“you could hold me at gunpoint and i still wouldn't know what these girls see in him,” you scoffed. you really didn't know. sure, he was a good-looking guy, you weren't gonna go out of your way to lie and call him ugly, but nobody could be good-looking enough to risk your self-respect.

taehyung seemed like he was actually thinking about it for a second, the faint sound of moans and groans from behind the door adding to his brain fog, “i think he just has a really big dick, yeah?” you shot him a look, almost concerned, “you seem to do a lot of thinking about his dick, anything you wanna tell me?” you teased, earning a joking punch to the shoulder.

“how charming,” he sneered, all you could do was laugh. he paused for a second as the moans began to die down. “there is something i wanna ask you, though.”

you stopped your typing, peeling your eyes off the screen in order to face him. “yeah, go ahead.” he seemed hesitant, a nervous smile crossing his face, and you couldn't help but worry about what was to come. “you can't say no right away, you have to hear me out,” he was only making it worse. “i'm supposed to go to this kid's frat party tomorrow night, and i wanna bring a guest, yeah?”

your face couldn't help but twist up in pure confusion. it wasn't that you were a total stone cold bitch that was gonna leave him high and dry, but you had never been to a party in your life. “and out of all the potential victims in this school, you wanna go with me?” he nodded, almost eagerly, as if the answer was supposed to be obvious. “duh, who else am i supposed to go with?” you could've inquired, but you didn't dare argue back, you didn't have the patience to. instead, you waited a second before agreeing. you didn't have to stay overnight, just a couple hours to keep taehyung company.

“okay, yeah, come to the dorm and we'll go, what time is it?” you asked as you closed your laptop, the painful silence from behind the door being a good enough sign that you could come back in. “i'll come by around eight, thanks for this, i owe you one.” you nodded as he gave you a hug goodbye, watching as he scurried down the hall and back to his own dorm.

you let out a sigh of exasperation, hand sliding down your face as the realization hit you. you didn't know the first thing about social gatherings, let alone about the ones with wannabe elite socialities that'll have too much to drink. the thought made your stomach churn as you reached for the doorknob, but before you could open the door, you had been beaten to it.

from the other side, the girl yoongi had brought to the dorm had swung the door open, stopping in her tracks as she locked eyes with you. she was a pretty girl, but the look she gave you was enough to make your blood boil. she didn't say a word, but the look itself was so nasty, you felt as dirty as she did. as she stomped away, you could hear the sound of yoongi's laughter from the room. “feisty one, isn't she?” he asked as you finally came in, making sure to lock the door this time. “charming girl, you sure know how to pick them,” you rolled your eyes.

he turned to face you as you walked in, wearing nothing but his short as he made himself comfortable, pressing a cigarette to his lips. the look you threw him was incredible, almost mimicking the one tonight's vencido shot you just a few seconds prior. “do you really have to smoke that shit in here?” you asked as he lit the tip of it. he raised an eyebrow, as if offended. “you got lung cancer?” the question had little to no relevance, but you shook your head. “then, what's the problem?”

“it smells like shit,” you hissed, waving your hand at the smoke drifting in your direction. he couldn't help but chuckle as he made his way over to the sofa, kicking his feet over the side. “hold your breath, open a window if you have to.” you scoffed as you watched his eyes close, cigarette tucked between his lips. you opened both of the windows in the room, greeting with fresh air with open arms. it was the last thing you had said to one another before you went to sleep, physically too tired to argue any further.

the following morning came too quickly, the sunlight from the window that had been, once again closed, practically blinding you, even while your eyes were closed. you could barely open them, head groggy as you powered through it. despite the bright rays, it wasn't what you saw that had awoken you from your slumber, but what you had heard.

it was about seven in the morning, maybe a few minutes last seven. whatever time it was, you knew it was too early to be listening to whatever it was you were listening to. you could make out two loud voices; one was yoongi's, the other belonged to a girl. for a second, your blood ran cold at the thought of him hooking up with a girl while you were awake, but the fear went away as your vision began to clear up. they were both half-naked; not fucking, just arguing.

“you're a fucking asshole, you've always been a fucking asshole,” the girl yelled, voice piercing your ears. you could make her frame out, definitely wasn't any of the past three girls that came in. she was much smaller than yoongi, her fists pounding against his chest but to avail as she continued to yell and cry. “you think fucking my best friend is funny, asshole? or the other sluts you have in here every fucking night? or the whore in your bed at seven in the morning?”

you scrunched your face up, offended at the assumption, but you remained in your position, not wanting them to notice your presence in case the situation worsened. “you better watch that fucking mouth of yours,” you heard yoongi respond. he didn't yell at her, he didn't hit back. his voice was almost stoic. “she's not a fucking whore, she's my roommate and she's sleeping, so either be quiet or get the fuck out.” you were almost pleased with his answer, it was the closest thing you'd ever get to him being nice to you. unfortunately, she didn't like that answer at all.

“get fucked, you son of a bitch,” was the last thing she said before leaving, and she didn't go quietly. she left the dorm with heavy footsteps and a deafening slam of the door. yoongi paused, reaping the insult with only a second of eerie calmness. when the wave of calm had passed, you felt your body jolt as he threw the television's remote control at the door, muttering a string of angry curses as he did so. only then did he turn around, watching the way you stared in surprise.

he tilted his head back down, almost as if he felt sorry, “sorry if i woke you up, go back to bed.” you shook your head, pushing the blanket off as you swung your legs off the bed. it was much too late to go back to sleep anyway. “all good, i gotta get to class anyway.” he raised an eyebrow, leaning against the counter as he pressed another cigarette to his lips. you watched him light it up in shock, it was still seven in the morning.

“what the fuck kind of classes do you have this early?” you rolled your eyes as you brushed out your hair, getting done only what was necessary before leaving for your morning lecture. “management accounting,” you murmured a response. he raised his eyebrows, keeping his distance as he blew smoke into the air.

“studying finance, really?” you nodded in response, unable to tell if he was impressed or disgusted. “that's cool,” he said softly. “my step-dad studied finance, too. says it's a pain in the ass.”

perhaps you had were too comfortable in that moment, perhaps you were just too tired and out of it to register what was coming out of your mouth. “my mom studied finance, she was really good at it,” your eyes had locked, but only for a second. it wasn't long enough to carry too much significance, but not short enough to go unnoticed. you coughed, “i'm gonna go to class.” he nodded silently, watching you grab what you needed before heading towards the door. he watched you leave for your lecture, cigarette still pressed to his lips, but not before opening the window.

your classes had lasted longer than you had anticipated, the one hour mark stretching for another two hours. by the time you had finally finished, you felt the second wave of exhaustion flood your system. the morning wasn't even through, and you were ready to give up and go back to bed, but you couldn't. as you left the classroom, dreading whatever your schedule had in store for you next, you felt an arm sling around your shoulders as you walked down the hallway.

“hey, loser,” taehyung cooed in your ear, ruffling your hair as you scoffed, delivering a playful slap to his arm. “going to your morning classes like a good little geek, aren't you?” you rolled your eyes as you peeked at your schedule, smiling as you realized your next class was with your friend. “remember those words when you're working for me in ten years, jackass.”

he feigned offense as he placed his hand on his forehead in a dramatic fashion. “so so cruel, i would truly rather work at a gas station.” you couldn't help but laugh as you both made your way into the next classroom. you couldn't help but admire how elegant the classrooms were, truly a hit or miss product of capitalism. unfortunately, you weren't given much time to admire as you both stopped in your tracks in the middle of the room.

“min yoongi taking english literature,” taehyung was the first to react, equally as surprised as you were. he laughed as he walked up to his friend, who was seated in the back row, arms crossed with a faint smile on his face. “you do realize the class doesn't come with a free ashtray, right?” you faintly trailed behind him as they dapped each other up, the most unnecessary display of masculinity, you thought.

“yeah, don't be too shocked, my parents aren't paying for me to smoke all day,” yoongi responded. his faint smile grew more and more faint as he watched you come up behind taehyung. his gaze switched from you to him. “you two friends?”

you had opened your mouth to say something along the lines of “none of your fucking business,” but your friend was much quicker than you. taehyung wrapped his arm around your shoulders once more, ruffling your hair as you protested. “(y/n)? no, she's my hostage, as you can see.” you sighed in defeat, knowing it was no use. “you're such an ass,” you hissed. yoongi didn't say a word, he just stared. his gaze continued to flicker, but he remained quiet. even as you found your seat next to taehyung, just across from yoongi, he stayed quiet. silent, though his gaze never left the two of you, and you could almost feel it.

morning classes seemed to be the last of your problems as the day went on. everything was normal until you returned to your dorm, the panic you had been fighting since last night finally settling as you checked the time. you had exactly an hour to get ready before taehyung would come to pick you up. exactly an hour to find an outfit, put some decent makeup on, and get the courage to not pussy out. yoongi was nowhere to be found as you entered the dorm.

your wardrobe wasn't necessarily limited, as you had brought everything that could fit you. anything that couldn't was given to charity before you rented out the house, it was the smartest thing to do. you kept everything in a narrow closet, alongside some jewellry your mother had kept in a dainty box. it was a weird sensation, even after so many years, running your fingers through the fabric would never not strain your heart. you gulped back the melancholic nostalgia as you raked through the clothes. finally, you pulled out a dress hanging from above, one that had caught your eye.

it was anything unlike you had ever worn, because it wasn't yours. it was a dress your mother had worn when she was just a bit younger than you. despite what she believed in, she was the life of the party, unlike you. she knew how to let loose, and she wasn't afraid to express herself through her clothes. the dress was almost skimpy, she loved giving men the wrong impression. she loved knowing they could look because, they'd be looking either way, but they could never have her. she was in control, and the dress was gorgeous. a gold dress with thin straps, entirely tight and made to hug the body of whoever chose to wear it. it wasn't what you were used to, not at all. you loved the fact that it was pretty, but you loved the fact that your mother felt pretty in it even more.

if it wasn't her dress, you were entirely sure you wouldn't have liked it. the sensation of putting it on and embracing it was even weirder than the feeling of finding it. nonetheless, you slipped into the dress as you stood in front of the mirror. the dress was even more beautiful on you rather than in your hands. it was just as you imagined—tight, hugging every part of your body from your chest to your thighs, but beautiful. the light from the room did it more than enough justice, it glimmered.

even as you did your makeup, you couldn't help but give all your attention to the dress. it made you feel warm on the inside, the fact that you had a part of your mother clinging to your skin. it was as if she had never left. when you finished, with your face touched up, the heels you wanted, and the gold ring on your finger, all you could do was admire the dress in the mirror.

“holy shit,” were the words that finally snapped you back to reality, your body jolting as your head turned to the source of the sound. you hated how bad your instincts were when you were distracted, it was one of the reasons why taehyung could tease you as much as he did without you reacting. you froze, not knowing what to do.

“shit, i didn't mean to scare you, i'm sorry,” yoongi continued. he was equally as frozen as you were, having stopped himself in his tracks as he stared at you, eyes scanning you from head to toe. “it's just that you look really nice. the dress is—really nice.”

you almost felt bad for staying quiet. it wasn't that you were ungrateful, you just didn't know what to say. for a moment amidst your silence, yoongi continued to admire you for a moment longer, turning on his heel when he realized you had gone mute. “wait,” you practically blurted out, stopping him in his tracks once more. “thank you. it was my mom's.”

he didn't turn back around, but he remained in place as he felt his heart tighten at your words. “doesn't fit her anymore?” his tone was almost hopeful, as if he was hoping that would be the case. you went quiet for a second, before the answer came out entirely too quickly, as if you had thrown it up. “it would've if she was still here. she passed away, few years ago.”

you regret it the second it had come out, but that was the thing about word vomit; just like regular vomit, you could never take it back. now, it was his turn to be silent. you were entirely sure that you had creeped him the fuck out, but he felt that it was far from that. his heart tightened, it wasn't the answer he was hoping for. he responded as he turned around, finally facing you. “i'm sorry,” he murmured. “my dad passed away some years back, too. storm was bad.” he had mentioned his step-father, but never his actual dad. you felt for him, and he felt for you.

you opened your mouth, ready to offer some form of support, but the distinct pounding on the door was quick to cut you off. “come in,” yoongi muttered out, loud enough for whoever it was to here. taehyung wasted no time opening the door, practically cheering as he came in, unable to read the room.

“is my hostage ready?” his voice had dropped a few octaves as he neared the end of the question, walking into the room as he locked eyes with you. it was something about you in the dress rather than the dress itself, and yoongi was quick to notice his reaction.

“what're you doing here?” he asked taehyung, fighting back the urge to roll his eyes at his shell-shocked reaction. for a second, he focused. “i'm here for (y/n), we're going to the wang party.” never had you heard of that name in your life.

yoongi raised an eyebrow before turning back to you. “you didn't say you were going to jackson wang's shitty frat party,” he sounded almost displeased. you shrugged, “what's it to you?” you and taehyung exchanged a glance as yoongi scoffed, the agitation expanding.

“his entire frat has a thing for roofies and rape,” he paused to shoot taehyung a look. “but i'm sure your friend already told you about that.”

it was your turn to shoot taehyung a look, who already had his hands up. “you really think i'd let something happen to her?” he asked, his tone slightly colder than usual. yoongi scoffed at the rhetorical question, “go on, then,” was all he uttered out.

you knew you didn't need any help, and that you were perfectly capable of handling yourself, which included the decisions you made. still, it didn't change the fact that leaving the dorm held more tension than it was supposed to. taehyung shut the door as you left, leaving yoongi in distress that he chose not to make obvious. instead, he chose to ignore the way it nagged him as he turned the television on, hoping it would just go away.

“roofies and rape? you guys are such a fucking cliché,” you muttered as you made your way down the hall with your friend. as oblivious as you were, for taehyung, it was a blessing, because you failed to notice the glances sent your way. he thought you were gorgeous, he thought the dress was gorgeous, up to the point where he could barely register what you were saying. “okay, yeah, ignore yoongi. i told you, i'm not gonna let anything happen, no way.” you knew he wouldn't, but you couldn't shake the feeling of unease as taehyung knocked on the door. the way yoongi acted, the way he talked, it was such a drastic and quick shift.

the generic music and cheers weren't audible until the door opened, you began wondering who you had to ask to get a thick door like that for some very necessary sound blockage. the guy who opened the door was familiar, you were sure you had seen him around campus before. “what's up, jackson?” they greeted each other with a laugh before the guy turned to you, with an almost unsettling spark in his eyes as he did so.

“good to see you, tae,” he spoke a little louder in order to combat the loud music. “and who do we have here?” the flickering colorful lights lit up the room, and you could make out what seemed to be hundreds of people in there, much to your disbelief. there was no logical reason for there to be that many people at one dorm party.

you introduced yourself, a friendly but equally forced smile on your face. “yeah, you're yoongi's roommate, aren't you?” you nodded in response, and you could tell that jackson wasn't too pleased with your roommate. “we should get you a drink then, make it easier to deal with him.” you feinged a laugh as you agreed, shooting taehyung a desperate look. you didn't need to say anything as you followed jackson in, your friend has already burned holes in the back of his head with his glare.

“i'll get us drinks, is that cool?” he could've sworn he saw jackson's face flash with disappointment, but the host obliged, nonetheless. you knew it was the best way for you to not get your virginity taken by the proclaimed roofie rapist, but you couldn't help but panic as taehyung left, even if it was for a good cause.

everybody was a sweaty, drunk mess. the party had started a mere fifteen minutes ago, yet the dorm was packed to the brim with careless, leering students looking to blow some steam off. you found yourself with your pressed against the wall as you created as much distance as possible. “i'm guessing it's your first frat party,” jackson said, only a few feet away from you. you avoided eye contact as best as you could, though you could barely hear him. “first party in general,” you corrected him. “not really my type of scene.”

he chuckled as he closed a few inches of distance off between you two. “that's what i figured,” you quite literally had nowhere to go, with the wall pressing into your back. “must be why you came with your boyfriend, right?” you laughed, but it wasn't in a mocking way, as if you had taken slight offense. “no, taehyung's not my boyfriend, i don't do boyfriends.” you made sure to put emphasis on the last bit.

jackson raised his eyebrows, taking a mere step closer as the lights flashed. he wasn't an unattractive guy, but you needed to take caution. “all the girls here tend to come with their boyfriends,” he gestured towards the many couples easily spotted behind him, all of them a sweaty mess of hormones, grinding and kissing without a care in the world. “rumor's going around that i'm not a nice guy, so they wanna be careful,” you couldn't tell if he was covering his tracks or not, but he was too close to your face, and the alcohol on his breath was no consolation. “what about you? you think i'm a nice guy?”

you couldn't tell if he was being serious or not, and you truly didn't know how to answer. his eyes bored into yours as a smirk played on your face, your mouth open but no word vomit. before you could waste another second thinking, you glanced at his side, watching taehyung stride over with two drinks, as if on time.

“here you go,” he broke the silence, and relief washed over you. once again, jackson attempted to mask his disappointment with a smile. taehyung handed you a glass of something clear, strong. you knew it was strong, whatever it was, but the tension was so cruel, you couldn't help but down the contents of the cup, as if to ease how unsettled you felt.

whatever it was left a disgusting taste in your mouth, almost like nail polish. your friend watched you, almost concerned, while jackson let out a laugh. “i have a feeling it isn't your first time,” a comment that earned him a glare and a half. you shook your head, “i'm not a drinker,” you argued. “but i'll take more of it.”

this time, taehyung pulled you to his side. “great idea, let's go,” he urged, earning him the third look of disappointment of the night, but he paid no mind. he knew that no reaction, was the best reaction. a frown formed on your face as he dragged you through the tight crowd, leading you to the coolers on the wooden table. he shot you a look, “stay away from jackson,” was all he said as he passed you another drink, this time, a can from the cooler. something less strong to kill the burning sensation in your throat. all you could do was nod.

by the time you had gotten your fair share of drinks down your system, the atmosphere around you began to shift drastically. it was less tense, more refreshing. the more lightheaded you felt, the easier it was to let loose. the worse your vision had become, the more flushed you felt as your blood pumped. you had left taehyung's side, the succumbing to the foreign feeling as you joined the crowd despite his calls of disapproval. you knew he'd come after you, but you didn't care. all you could focus on was absolutely nothing. you just liked the way it felt, swaying to the music as if nothing mattered. unfortunately, everything mattered, and not everyone was as unaware as you were. jackson watched you from the sidelines, and he was focused, despite the many drinks that were clashing in his system. he couldn't not focus on you.

as the night wore on, situations varied. in one dorm, the music was loud. the flashing lights provided no sanctuary, and the drinks were practically freezing despite the immense heat. in one dorm, everybody was having a fantastic time. in another dorm, the silence was deafening.

yoongi had put out what may have been his final cigarette of the night. his throat had grown tight, and his stomach had started to churn. he knew it wasn't because of the cigarettes, no. he had put so many of them out just to ease the aching concerns in his mind as he watched the clock tick. a minute had past, followed by an hour. then, another hour. by the time the box was empty, it was almost midnight, and he couldn't think. with his fingers intertwined, nose pressed against them, he let out a sigh. why were you still there? why hadn't you come back yet? did something happen? it was all he could think about. it wasn't that he cared, he just didn't want anything to happen to you; it'd put his reputation in a tough spot, seeing as you were his roommate and all. at least, that's what he wanted to believe in.

the sound of the clock ticking was almost mocking, as was the way the hand moved in the slowest fashion possible. when another fifteen minutes had passed, he glanced at the door, hoping he'd see you stumble in. maybe not sober, but alive and untouched. when the last speck of hope faltered, he found himself pulling his weight off the couch. “fuck this,” he practically spat, snatching the door keys off the drawer before making his way out.

you were unaware of what was happening behind the door, outside of your makeshift sanctuary. you had finally reached the point of betrayal, only then could you see why you had avoided alcohol for so long. as your head span, so did the room. the burning sensation in the pit of your stomach had quickly replaced the short-lived euphoria you had felt up until then. as your dancing faltered, you found yourself tumbling in the opposite direction, practically tripping over your own two feet.

before you could cause yourself any harm, you felt a familiarly unfamiliar touch embrace your waist, preventing you from falling onto your back. for a second, everything went quiet, relief coursing through your veins. the relief was as short-lived as the bliss. “caught you just in time, didn't i?” you heard jackson murmur, his breath hot against your ear. your vision was blurry, and you were slurring your words as if you had a lisp. you didn't want him to know how drunk you were, you didn't want him to take advantage of it, but he was no fool. “yeah, thanks'o much,” he only chuckled in response.

in an attempt to pull yourself away from him, you found yourself staring at him face-to-face, as his grip never left your waist. you could barely make out his figure, let alone muster the strength to run away. your mouth was open, but it was as if your brain was too slow to form any sentences. “feel bad, don't you?” his voice was soft, almost comforting but borderline mocking. all you could do was nod. “we should go, get you taken care of. my friend's gotta spare room, yeah?”

your hands were pressed up against his chest, as if in attempt to push away from him, but no force was emitted. under any other circumstances, you'd have had no problem leaving, but things just weren't playing in your favor. he smirked, leaning in towards your face as his hot breath fanned your neck, nose grazing the side of your jaw. you pressed your eyes shut, hoping it would all go away, but it never did.

“it's a shame your friend left you here,” he practically purred in your ear. his fingers grazed your collarbone as his free hand slid down your hip, reaching to cup your ass as he let out a sigh at the feeling. “pretty thing like you, nothing good's bound to happen, right?” you couldn't fight back. for the first time in forever, you couldn't fight back, and you hated it. you hated how you were at his disposal, there for him to use without a care in the world. you kept your eyes shut, still hoping it would all stop and go away. and finally, it did.

it didn't go away quietly—within seconds, you could feel a tight grip ripping you away from jackson, a force so aggressive, you felt your heart stop for a split second. you felt as if you didn't need to second-guess who it was, thinking taehyung had finally located you and came to your rescue, but your suspicions were denied once you turned around. “what the fuck is wrong with you?” despite being free from his grasp, jackson's yell made you wince. he came closer once more, but he didn't face you this time.

yoongi came just as close as he did, mere inches away from his face as he levelled with him. “dunno, jackson, she looks pretty drunk to me,” he sneered in his face. you were behind yoongi, with one of his arms pressing into your front in an attempt to block the distance between you and jackson. by that point, the music had started to falter, and people were growing more and more interested in the scene that was unfolding. “you can take the roofies and rape bullshit somewhere else, i'll fucking kill you and you know it.”

for a second, jackson almost seemed hesitant to react, as if he was scared of the man in front of him. that second passed, but it didn't go unnoticed before he chose his next words, “i should leave my bullshit here and fuck her 'till she's sober, in case you wanted to watch.” had he chosen anything else to say, maybe the situation wouldn't have escalated the way it did so fast. because, in one swift motion, jackson plummeted into the ground beneath his feet, his neck bending backwards in an almost animated way as yoongi's fist collided with the bottom of his jaw.

“holy shit,” was all you could breathe out, screams emitting from the crowd of people behind you as you watched jackson's bloody gums shine under the lights. your body told you to move forward, pressing into yoongi's arm as you took a step towards jackson. the man beside you almost instantly looked back at you as he pushed you off with just enough force to make you stumble back.

for a second, you and yoongi locked eyes. your eyebrows furrowed, a look of concern in your eyes mixed with the profound melancholy of a lack of thoughts. your brain was moving too slow, you thought you looked stupid, but he thought you looked beautiful. it pissed him off how beautiful you looked, and it was all you could see in his eyes. anger, anger, anger. anger, and a speck of something else that you couldn't quite figure out.

“you've gotta be fucking joking,” your head snapped towards the source of the sound, and you spotted taehyung rushing to your side. first, all of his anger was directed towards jackson, but the anger quickly shifted to your roommate once he realized jackson had been dealt with. “where do you get off shoving her?” yoongi scoffed at the question, watching the way your friend came up to you from behind, his annoyingly protective hands cupping your shoulders as he watched you, hoping to see you were okay.

“where do you get ditching her in a place like this?” was yoongi's response. everything went quiet, too quiet, as he and taehyung locked eyes. you were afraid, too afraid that your friend would end up in the same position as jackson. “it's crowded, i went to the bathroom and couldn't find her,” taehyung's defense was reasonable, as you had given him permission to go, promising you'd be fine for a minute or so before making your way to the dance floor. yoongi laughed, but there was no humor to be traced, “that's funny seeing as i found her the second i came in here.”

the silence physically made your stomach twist, and they could both see it from the way your abdomen clenched as you bent forward. people had started whipping their phones out, snapping photos ane taking videos as hushed whispers began to fill the air. “let's get you out of here,” taehyung murmured, ignoring what yoongi said as to avoid any further discomfort, but you knew yoongi. everybody knew him. as your friend pulled you by one arm, leading you towards the exit, you both stopped in your tracks. from your other side, yoongi kept his grip on your hand tight. you couldn't fully grasp the situation, but his unfamiliar touch had a different feeling than jackson's. they were both foreign, but only one was welcomed.

“go home, taehyung,” yoongi uttered out, and oncr again, they locked eyes. the tension was palpable, and you couldn't stand the way their cold gazes matched one another so well. when taehyung's eyes left his, they met yours. you wanted to go home so bad, the situation was killing you from the inside. so, you held his gaze and nodded. he let out a sigh as he let your arm go, ever so hesitantly. “i'll call you,” was what he said before he finally turned on his heel. yoongi practically sneered—“no, you won't,” was what he so badly wanted to say.

the morning which had followed was no easier than the previous night. you couldn't remember the last time you felt so sore, the pounding in your head never seeming to ease. you blinked, more than what was deemed natural, as you opened your eyes to the blinding sunlight. you could hear your roommate, but had yet to see him. “weather's getting colder,” was what you could make out as you propped yourself onto your elbows. “enjoy the sun while it lasts.” unfortunately, he had a point. you stopped straining your eyes, allowing the sunlight to do its work. now, you could see him, standing next to the open window with a cigarette in his hand.

“what time is it?” you asked, exhaustion laced in your voice as your brain had begun picking up the pieces of last night's rezendevous. “about ten,” your head snapped, realizing you had missed two of your morning classes. “but don't even think about going anywhere.” you looked up to meet his gaze as he blew smoke out the window.

your whole body was tense, and only when you stepped out from under the covers did you realize just how right he was about the weather. “why's it so fucking cold?” you couldn't help but ask, the borderline freezing weather leaving a sour taste in your mouth. “it's almost winter,” yoongi responded, just as dryly. “fucking hate winter.” you let out a humorless laugh, as if to agree. if there was one thing to agree on, it was that.

your phone vibrated on your desk, and as you peered over to see who had been bugging you so early in the morning, taehyung's face flashed on the screen once more. “so annoying,” yoongi spoke once more. “he's been doing that all morning.” you shot him a look as you scurried to pick up your phone, “and you didn't think to answer him?” you asked, watching him take the last drag of his cigarette. he shrugged you off, earning an eye roll as you finally picked up taehyung's call.

“thank god, everything okay?” you heard his panicked voice from the other side, before even getting a chance to greet him. “yeah, just woke up,” you murmured, your heart pounding as you recalled just how bad it had gotten the night prior. you could recall the drinks, the lights, jackson. most importantly, you could recall yoongi, and how he had rushed in, potentially stopping you from getting assaulted. the phone was pressed against your ear as you looked up to meet his eyes once more. from the way he looked at you, you knew he recalled it just as well. because, he looked at you as if he wanted nothing to happen to you.

“i'm really sorry for leaving, i should've held it in a little longer,” your friend's apologetic voice rang once more. you shook your head as if he was there, but your eyes never left yoongi's, “no. tae, it's alright. it would've happened either way, it's not your fault.” you could've sworn yoongi's gaze dropped at the mention of his name, but either way, the eye contact had finally broken. you spoke to your friend a minute longer, dismissing his apologies and promising you'd see each other for lunch. he wanted you to spend it with him and his friends, seeing as that would be much safer than being alone. you complied.

when you finally hung up, you allowed yourself to face reality once more. “there's advil in the cabinet,” yoongi spoke. this time, his tone was colder than anticipated. you thanked him, allowing yourself to get ready for whatever it was the universe had in store for you.

by the time lunch had rolled around, you found yourself waiting for your friend once more. this time, for a much safer setting. taehyung and his friends normally spent that period outside, taking up a bench or two while they hung out. as you walked with him, you could feel just how unfamiliar and harsh the air had grown. he noticed your discomfort, but said nothing, as you were near the spot anyway.

you couldn't recognize any of his friends. sure, you had seen them around campus. maybe even in a class or two, but you knew none of them personally. all but one. as you walked up to the bench, yoongi was the last to notice you, but the first to meet your gaze. “this is (y/n), she's gonna be joining us today,” taehyung introduced you, and you forced a smile. the smile was returned as the boys introduced themselves, all but one. yoongi remained silent, but never took his eyes off you. all of the boys were locals, all from daegu, but all of them seemed to harbor the same personality as taehyung, regarding the rich people bullshit. they seemed nice, down-to-earth, until the questions rolled in.

“you were at that party last night, weren't you?” one of the boys, who had introduced himself as dongwon, asked. though hesitant, you nodded, earning a sound of astonishment from him. “yeah, jackson's a real asshole. he didn't put his hands on you, did he?” you tensed up at the thought, with dongwon earning a look of disapproval from taehyung. you weren't the only one uncomfortable—from the corner of your eye, you could see yoongi fidget with his fingers, perhaps at the mention of what went down last night.

“no, not really,” you responded, recalling the way he had you backed up against the wall, the way his fingers so desperately waited for further access beside your waist. “not really?” dongwon repeated, as if confused. “what exactly do you mean by that?”

you shrugged, as if hesitant to go into further detail. “he didn't get to do much touching, nothing too bad,” you paused, watching the way nearly all of them listened carefully. “tried to kiss me, had his hand on my ass but that's really all—” before you could finish your thought, everybody's attention shifted to yoongi, who had pushed himself off the bench and onto his feet, throwing his can into the bin behind him more aggressive than necessary. “yoongi, what's your deal—” once again, you found yourself being cut off by the same man. once he was on his feet, his grip was on your elbow, practically dragging you away from the group and back into the school.

you thrashed, but it was no use, you couldn't pull yourself out of his grasp. he was too strong and too determined, as he pulled you into the first empty hallway he could find. once he had found the spot, you found yourself in an all too familiar position, with your back pressed against the wall. “what the fuck is wrong with you?” you hissed, but your voice was weaker than usual. you didn't know if it was because of last night's antics, or because of the current tension. “what's wrong with me?” he repeated, tone equally as harsh. “where do you get off talking about shit like that?”

now, you were just confused. “what the hell are you talking about? he asked me a question.” yoongi rolled his eyes, you truly had no idea why he was so mad. especially at you, what was it that you said wrong? “why didn't you call me when he touched you?” this time, his tone was more gentle, and the confusion had been replaced with shock. “if i had come in a second later,” he stopped himself mid-sentence, not wanting to imagine just how much the situation could have escalated.

your face softened at his words, it was almost like he felt guilty for not having stopped you when he had the chance. “you came,” you said. “you came, and i'm grateful you did.” your words comforted him, just a little bit. in the end, the important part was that someone intervened. even if it happened to be your roommate. for a moment, you saw him smile, but perhaps it was too much. he knew it was, so he followed it up with an eye roll, “it was a pain in the ass, had to watch over you, missed breakfast and lunch and everything,” he paused, as if the lightbulb in his head came to light. “you owe me lunch.”

you owed him lunch, and it took every cell in you to avoid ripping his head off his neck. it was the least you could do, it really was. it wasn't like you didn't know how to cook, of course you did. it was one of the first things your mother had made sure she taught you on time. but it was something about the almost smug smile he was wearing as he made himself comfortable on the chair, while you whisked away by the stove. “and don't even think about poisoning it,” you heard his taunting voice from behind. “the death penalty's legal now.”

for a moment, you even considered it. you opted for one of your mother's recipes, seeing as your roommate wasn't specific with what he wanted. truly, he didn't care. he just wanted to eat, with the appetizer being an excuse to fuck around with you. the specific recipe you were using had been passed around from one generation, all the way to your mother. the stew itself was something anyone could make, but nobody could make it the way your did. in fact, it was so special, the only people she ever shared it with were you and your father.

“it smells good,” yoongi murmured, his eyes glued to your frame as you carefully removed the pot off the stove, turning the heat off. you smiled to yourself as you retrieved a bowl from the csbinet above, “thanks.” never had you tried the recipe out for yourself, it was your first time and you were determined to make it work.

he waited patiently as you scooped the stew out, dumping it into the bowl. he watched your every move, from the way you pushed the loose strands of your hair away from your forehead, to how you carried the bowl with grace he swore was there. the stew was served with a bowl of rice for him, and a side of radishes. you heaved a sigh as you sat next to him, hands sore. everything was there, picture perfect for him, but he kept his focus on you.

“well,” you urged. “go on, then.” only then did his gaze drop. he stared at the red liquid, allowing the spicy scent to grace his nostrils. it was comforting, and all too familiar to him. the scent itself sent a sharp jab to his chest, he was too familiar with it.

his suspicions didn't ease as he scooped a spoonful of the stew, he had reached a new level of excitement. you analyzed him carefully, hoping for a promising reaction. it was exactly what you were going to get. “holy shit,” he uttered out, his mouth full. his instincts hadn't failed him, the scent was familiar and the taste only confirmed what he had been thinking. “is this your recipe?” for a second, you hesitated, but shook your head. “no,” you assured softly. “it was my mother's, why? is it any good?”

the answer itself was all too obvious as he continued to fill his mouth with the product, swallowing within seconds just to help himself some more. it was as if he hadn't eaten in years. “it's amazing,” he praised, and your face lit up. you couldn't help but smile as he neared the end of the bowl. “it tastes exactly the one my step-dad used to make.” you were skeptical, as there was no way that was possible, but took the compliment.

“generational recipe,” you explained, a twinge of grief to your voice. “it was all we ate when winter came along.” the memories weren't as pleasant as the taste itself; you found yourself recalling the days there truly wasn't anything else to eat, but you never complained. you never got tired of the taste.

yoongi seemed to notice the way your tone shifted, even while draining what was left of the meal. “i get it,” was what he found himself saying. at first, you thought it was just empty comforting. “the cold took a toll on us, too. fucking hate the winter.” out of all people, you never imagined opening up to min yoongi, let alone him opening up to you. let alone him understanding you. for a second, there was nothing but silence, and the way you found yourself staring at him. you had been looking at him with the same eyes since you've met him, but this time was different. this time, you looked at each other in a way you never have before.

in a split second, the moment had passed. your phone had started to ring again, and you found yourself cursing whoever it was. taehyung, probably. you swore you'd kill him if it was him pestering you again, but it wasn't. your screen flashed, reading “no caller id” in white, bold letters. yoongi shot you a concerning glance going unnoticed as you excused yourself, leaving the room.

once you were a room away from yoongi, you answered the call with a simple, “hello?” you didn't know exactly what you were expecting to hear, nor who. maybe someone had the wrong number, or it was a spam caller. you had your list of possibilities and expectations, all but one. “(y/n)? is it you?” the voice on the other line was deep, scratchy, rough. above all else, it was familiar. the second you heard it, your blood ran cold and your heart grew weak. it had never crossed your mind, so you refused to believe it was happening. “yes,” you responded weakly, weary of your roommate in the other room. “who is this?”

in the back of your mind, you knew exactly who it was. you could see his face, and you could hear his voice. you had done your best, for years on end, to block it from your memory, but to no avail. “(y/n), you know exactly who this is,” he said, voice all but steady. your fingers quivered, breathing heavy as you did your best to keep it together. “please, sweetheart. i'm back at the house, where's your mother? where are you? come over, we have to talk.” and for a split second, the room was silent. you couldn't muster up the words you so badly needed to say, not while you blood was hot, not while your head was heavy. the shock had finally turned to anger, and you couldn't deal with it.

“you asshole,” you finally breathed out, your eyes stinging with tears that threatened to spill. “you have some fucking nerve, you asshole.” it was all that was going through your head—asshole, asshole, asshole. how could he possibly have the courage, after so long?

from the other line, your father heaved a sigh, as if symapthetic. almost as if he was ashamed. “honey, i know i'm the last person you wanna hear from right now—” you had reached your limit, patience growing thin. you knew being rational wasn't an option, not with your knees threatening to give out from under you. “she's dead, you son of a bitch,” your voice was barely above a whisper. finally, he went quiet. it was your turn to talk. “she's dead and it's all your fault, dead. she's dead, you left her, and she's dead.”

so badly did you want to keep it together, but it was no use. your whispering had gone an octave up, hands furiously quivering as the tears came running down your face. your lips were swollen, hair plastered to your forehead with sweat as you failed against the sobs that were escaping from your throat. “i'm sorry,” were the words that finished you off. with a sob, you finally hung up. you should've done it the second you heard his voice, but it was too late. his words echoed in your head, even as you tossed your phone onto the floor, ignoring the sound of fatal cracks. you couldn't keep it together, you couldn't hold it in.

he had watched the whole scene unfold, much to your dismay. you realized it the second you held your head up. tears spilled from your eyes, and you were finally falling apart. yoongi stood there, just feet away. he stared, his eyes wide with shock as he watched you. something had awoken in him as he watched the way you held your face in your hands, sobs rocking your body. he watched you, but not for long. not wall you were so close to collapsing.

your legs were about to give out, but they never did. you were falling, but never did you hit the ground. he was right there, right beside you, arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you in so that you wouldn't fall. never in your life had you felt more grateful, more safe. you held onto the fabric of his shirt, and he didn't dare let go of you. you were fragile. in that moment, you were on the verge of breaking, and he wasn't going to let it happen. so, he pulled you close. his arms were wrapped around your frame, hand on the back of your head as he pushed your face into the crook of his neck.

he could feel the way you shook under his touch, and it broke his heart. his heart hurt for you. gentle strokes were delivered to your hair as he hushed you, and all you could do was cry. he didn't stop, not until your sobs died down. “was that your dad?” was what he finally asked, careful with his words as to not worsen the situation. all you could do was nod, and it was enough for him to keep quiet. all he could do was hold you, and that was exactly what he did. it was the comfort you had been longing for.

when you had finally calmed down, when the embrace had broken, you didn't know what to think. you cursed yourself for succumbing to your emotions as quickly as you did, you cursed yourself for breaking down. it made you wonder, what was it that made you feel so safe with him? what was it that made your heart flutter, that put your mind at ease? you were no fool, all you needed to do was remember what was engraved in your mind—cold as ice, hard as stone. never choose men over being alone. it was what had kept you afloat for so long, but it wasn't what was in your heart. it wasn't what made you feel safe, not the way you did with him.

he found himself cursing the way he found himself acting with you. it was unlike him, it was out of character for him. why, all of a sudden? why was he coming to your rescue, eating your meals? why was the urge to protect you stronger than the urge to protect his pride? it was all he thought about, why was it different with you? he didn't like different, different meant unfamiliar. he didn't like how vulnerable he was with you, how safe he felt with you. he never played safe, why start? why risk it all? he needed a distraction, and he was determined to find it.

thankfully, he knew just where to look. that night, you had gone to sleep earlier than usual, with only one thing on your mind. what had happened that day replayed in your head, but only the part you wanted to think about. him. you fell asleep thinking about him, dreading how quiet it was without his presence. he wasn't far, just two dorms over.

“hey,” he greeted almost the second the door opened, as if he was in a rush. he allowed himself to come in, despite the several yelps of disapproval. “got too much on my mind, needed to see you.” he didn't need to do anything, all he wanted was to be distracted. so, he did it the only way he knew how.

the girl scoffed, but closed the door behind him. “you should've called. what? you missed me?” the question sent a chill down his spine. no, no, no. it's what he so badly wanted to say. he didn't miss her, he didn't want her. he didn't need her the way he needed you, but he didn't want to need you. he didn't want to need anybody. to him, everybody was unreliable. everybody was waiting to ruin him. he knew he was making a mistake, but he was ready. above all else, he was ready.

“take your clothes off,” he uttered out. “and you'll see how much i missed you.”

the following morning, you had gotten up earlier than you wanted to. the basket of dirty clothes had filled up again, and someone had to take care of it. when you opened your eyes, yoongi was nowhere to be found. it made you get up faster than usual, panic coursing through your veins as you searched for him. he wasn't there. while you were in your feet, headed towards the basket, he still wasn't there. you tried to calm yourself down, assuring yourself he'd walk through the door soon enough. this time, you were right.

as you picked the basket up, you heard the doorknob jiggle. he had finally come home, just before seven in the morning. he seemed tired, as if he had got done running a marathon. the tiresome expression switched to a look of shock the second he saw you. for a moment, all you did was look at each other. “where've you been?” you finally broke the silence. the question should have been expected, but he didn't know how to answer. how could he, after everything? he gulped, thinking of what to say. so, he did what he did best. he lied.

“drinking with dongwon,” the lie came out smoother than intended, smooth enough for your worries to falter. you only nodded in response. he felt awful for lying, why do it in the first place? you had seen him in much more promiscuous situations with a variety of women, what was the issue now? he knew he couldn't, not after yesterday—after everything. his eyes shifted to the basket in your hands. “taking the clothes down to the washer?” again, all you could do was nod. you had nothing to say, you were just glad he was alright. “would you take this, too?” you watched him gesture to the shirt he had on, and complied.

all you could do was stand there as he peeled his collared shirt off, it was best not to look, but oh so difficult. desperate to ditch the embarrassment, you placed the shirt into the basket, and brushed past him.

the minute you left the room, once again did he curse himself. once time, for what he did. “fuck,” was all he could say.

the washing machine belonged to the campus, and students were free to use it as much as they needed to. people had grown more aware of how challenging it was for students to make it on their own while studying, so they did their best to help. you wanted to make a quick trip, shoving the clothes into the machine as fast as you could, but something caught your eye. all of the clothes in the bin had been worn over and over again, all but yoongi's shirt. he had a different outfit on the previous day, but came back wearing a new shirt. you had presumed it was stained with alcohol, but decided to check, just in case.

maybe things had gotten out of hand while he was drinking, but you didn't remember seeing any stains. the shirt itself was clean, from what you could tell. white stained easily. it wasn't until your hands pulled the collar upwards, did you see what the problem really was. at first, you ignored the pungent smell. the shirt reeked of cheap, fruity perfume that lit your nostrils up, and it made your stomach churn. maybe dongwon had a few girls over to drink with them, it was what you hoped for. why did it matter? it had nothing to do with you. it would've been the best case, but it wasn't. you realized it wasn't the moment you lifted the collar.

the rim of the collar was stained with lipstick. bright pink lipstick. the sight of it made your heart fall, you practically felt it in your stomach. “asshole,” you breathed out, fingers clutching the fabric. you didn't know why it made you so upset, you didn't know why the sight of it made you so angry. why was he lying about it? it wasn't the first time, and you believed it wouldn't be the last. it was all you could think about, and it hurt more than you wanted it to.

you had spent the following weeks ignoring yoongi as best as you could. unfortunately, living with him didn't make it easier for you. you did your best, unable to shake the feeling of betrayal. weeks passed, and you still didn't know why it hurt you as much as it did. you couldn't bare talking to him, afraid of lashing out. losing your temper, everything you had strived for so long.

he had noticed a shift in the atmosphere from that point on, brushing it off at first. maybe you were just having a bad day, is what he had been telling himself the first few days. those days quickly turned into weeks, and nothing was the same. his comments were ignored, even his provocations and jokes. his questions were answered abruptly and coldly. he dismissed the idea of you figuring out what he had done, as he believed there was no way for you to find out, but nothing explained the way you were acting. not even the smoking and closed windows bothered you anymore.

you spent as much time with taehyung as you possibly could. if you had classes, you'd attend them alone and in silence. all your free time was spent with taehyung, not that he minded. he was the only person you told what happened, from start to finish. you told him everything, even the bits he already knew, like what happened at the party.

“you like him, don't you?” he asked the question you had been so scared of facing, let alone answering. you tried to play it off as a joke, laughing it off, but never answering. he watched you carefully, a frown on his face. he didn't need an answer, he knew it just as well as you did. you liked him. he didn't know where to go from there, all he could do was watch you, and every move of yours gave him his answer. you couldn't keep the eye contact, your fingers toyed with your hair as you stayed quiet. he knew you liked him.

that night, he thought about it. he thought about it so much, he found himself standing outside with yoongi, in the cold air. he thought about it so much, he found himself with one of yoongi's cigarettes between his lips. there was something off about him, yoongi saw it. taehyung, who was once one of his closest friends, had grown cold, hostile. taehyung didn't pay mind to how his behavior had grown strange, he only had one thing on his mind.

“she knows,” were the words that broke the silence. yoongi froze, cigarette burning between his lips. he stayed silent, couldn't say a thing. “she knows you fucked that girl.” yoongi scoffed, but he couldn't ignore how fast his heart was pounding. the increasing anxiety wasn't detectable, he did his best to ignore it. “don't know what you're talking about.”

now, it was taehyung's turn to scoff. he didn't make eye contact with his friend, taking a drag of his cigarette as he stared into the night sky. “you're a pussy,” his words finally got the attention he was looking for. “she's this great girl, y'know? she's this beautiful, smart girl and she likes you. and i wish i knew why. but, hey, what do you know? you like her, you like this great girl, but you're too big of a pussy to do anything about it.”

“you don't know shit,” yoongi practically spat at him, too defensive for his own good. he faced his friend, but taehyung remained stoic. in his heart, yoongi knew every bit of it was true. he only returned the stance as he neared the end of his cigarette, throwing it onto the ground beneath him and stepping over it. “you're right, i don't know shit,” taehyung spat back. “you like each other, but don't do shit about it. fuck around with her some more, 'till she realizes she can do better than you.” those were the last words taehyung said to him, before walking away. it took everything in him to not punch yoongi in the face, because he so desperately needed to. he wanted him to realize what was in front of him, he wanted him to realize how lucky he was.

once again, yoongi was left alone. in his heart, he knew every word of it was true, but he couldn't bring himself to come to terms with it. it was something he needed to do, but he didn't want to. he wanted to live in his bubble, with his heart closed off to anyone but him. he needed to be selfish, because it was all he knew, but as the night grew colder and harsher, he knew it wasn't what he wanted to do.

you found yourself in your bed once more, but you couldn't fall asleep. your mind wouldn't shut off, and it pissed you off. you and yoongi had gone another day without speaking, and the silence killed you. he wasn't there, and all you could think about was where he was. you let out a dry laugh, thinking history would be funny enough to repeat itself—maybe he really was out there, wetting his dick again.

that possibility lost some of its credibility when the doorknob began to budge again. like clockwork, you found yourself watching him come in. this time, he was home early, it wasn't even midnight. for a second, you locked eyes. it was quiet, you didn't dare say a word, but you couldn't not look at him. he looked at you, admiring how pretty you were, even at your worst. even with your hair messy, lips swollen, eyes beaming with exhaustion—there was no way you couldn't look good. something in that moment had clicked, and the silence was broken.

“i fucked her,” definitely wasn't the best choice of words, but he needed something to clear the air with. still, you remained quiet, only raising your eyebrows in response. you knew, he knew you knew. “i fucked her and it was a shitty thing to do. i knew it then, and i know it now.”

you stayed quiet, the empathy currently drained from your heart. how could you feel for him? “i fucked her because i needed a way to distract myself,” he paused. “from you. i'm feeling shit i've never felt, and i'm scared of feeling it. when i'm scared, i run. it's all i've ever been doing.”

he stood there, voice steady despite how honest he was trying to be. for a second, you almost understood him. you knew what it was like, running from the same feeling your entire life. it was exactly what you were taught, but never could you have done to anybody what he had done to you. “i really hope she was worth it,” you whispered, just about loud enough for him to hear. she wasn't, he knew she wasn't. she had cost him everything, and he knew there was no coming back from it.

not much had changed as the weeks flew by. nothing but the weather. the colder the weather had gotten, the more hostile you found yourself acting. not just with yoongi, but in general. even with taehyung, you found yourself snapping just to apologize seconds later. he understood, he was patient with you. once it had started to snow, you spent more time inside than outside. seeing the fluffy, white flakes coat the ground was enough for you to get a frostbite. you spent the inside of the campus has truly become a sanctuary, until you and yoongi had started to cross paths once more.

it was only because he had been staying inside just as much. the minute he had woken up to the sight of white, it was official. he didn't even bother looking at the windows, let alone taking a step outside. he only smoked indoors, kept his friends close indoors.

your anger had finally faltered as the time passed, but you and yoongi never really spoke. you had both hoped that whatever it was you were feeling would finally fade, that it was a temporary occurence. you both prayed that one day you'd wake up, and feel nothing for the other. that day never came.

though you had finally made peace with the situation and gained your composure, the weather had lost its. everything up until then had been child's play, with the outside world freezing, but the inside providing comfort. nobody had really expected the drastic change, so nobody was prepared. when the night in question rolled around, it was brutal.

a snowstorm was in the process of unfolding. those who were able to deal with it, dealed by hiding under the covers. the wind rocked the windows, it was brutal. no matter the force, nobody was able to shut them. all the wind did was fight back. the wind howled as flakes of white scattered the dorms, the cold air practically violent. it was the reason you had found yourself on the couch, away from the windows. you were doing your best to ignore it, to block the familiar sounds from your mind. the noises were messing with your head, and the brutal cold brought memories you had no interest in re-living.

your breathing escalated, and all you could do was fight back the tears, reassuring yourself under your breath. you shut yours eyes tight, hoping everything would go quiet. just for a second. it never did. at one point, the howling had started to die down, but the air only grew colder. a new sound had graced your ears, but it wasn't the wind. it wasn't the wind howling. from the corner of your eye, you could spot the source.

yoongi had problems of his own, having taken the spot right next to the window. the covers on the bed offered no comfort, not while everything was unfolding right next to him. the cold was bitter, so unfamiliarly cruel as he rocked himself under the sheets. it was the most unstable he had ever felt, as he bit back his cries, wary of you just feet away from him. he muffled his sobs, but it wasn't enough to stop the tears from flowing down his cheeks. he hated it, it was killing him.

you listened carefully, unsure of what you were listening to. ever the curious one, you pushed yourself onto your feet, with the blanket engulfing you. he was facing the opposite side, and you were absolutely sure the sounds were coming from him, the closer you grew to him. as you got closer, you could make out the sounds better. you were right, it wasn't the wind howling. you could recognize the crying all too well.

“yoongi,” it was the first time you had spoken to him in a long time. your voice rang like a melody, offering him the slightest comfort amidst everything else. slowly, he found himself turning towards you. as he did, you saw everything much clearer, and your heart skipped a beat. his eyes were swollen, lips puffy, his cheeks slick with tears. “yoongi, are you okay?”

he shook his head, and you couldn't hide the panic in your voice. despite everything, you knew you cared. you cared, he cared. hearing you was almost enough to block everything else out. it was enough for him to ignore how vulnerable he truly was in that moment, and he knew he had reached peak vulnerability. “i fucking hate winter,” he croaked out. all you could do was nod, you nodded and it pained you because you hated it, too. you hated how it took everything from you. “took my dad from me, it was too cold.” you could barely make out what he was saying, but you couldn't believe what you were able to hear. it made your heart sink, and you knew what followed was inevitable.

“it's okay, i promise,” your heart was racing as you sat on the bed, right next to him. cold, he was so cold. despite the blankets, he was freezing. “took my mom from me, yoongi. i get it, i promise i get it.” tears in your eyes threatened to match his own as his expression flashed with shock. it wasn't something you expected to hear from anyone, let alone him. “so fucking cold,” he finally whispered, and you realized just how bad he had it. you realized just how alike you were, so you finally did something so unlike the either of you.

you were careful with your actions, even if they weren't thought through. with a sniffle, you pulled the covers up. not enough to expose him to the cold more than he already had been, but enough to make room. you made enough room and, to his astonishment, you crawled in. you moved into the spot next to him, and neither of you moved. it was unlike any warmth either of you had felt before, none of the covers in the world had anything on the warmth felt in that moment.

you stared at each other with sore, puffy eyes. he watched you with soft eyes, sniffles dying down the minute you were next to him. you were perfect. more perfect than you've ever been. he was hesitant, but he found himself pulling you in. you were just as hesitant, but you found yourself scooting closer to him. nothing mattered anymore. the air surrounding you was still cold, it still hurt, but it was like his body had grown a new mind of its own. his fingers traced the side of your face, pushing strands of your hair away from your eyes. he needed to see you, all of you, and he did. you had never been closer, and you couldn't get enough of it. he was like a furnace to you, even though you were the one warming him. from the inside out.

“i love you,” he finally whispered, and neither of you looked away. he knew he couldn't take back what he said, the same way he knew how much he meant it. the words were foreign, they were words you hadn't heard in a long time. finally, you smiled. “i love you, too.” the shock that spread through his body couldn't be mimicked. for the first time in a long while, he smiled. he smiled back, and it was a genuine smile. one that wasn't provoked by teasing and joking, nothing of the sort. he hadn't been loved in a long time.

the wind stayed consistent, but nothing mattered anymore. it was as if a barrier had formed around the two of you, one that unapologetically emitted the warmest, kindest comfort imaginable. yoongi found himself moving closer to you, if possible, and you knew what was coming. you knew, and you were prepared. you loved him, you hated the cold, and you could never be what you despised the most, so you let him.

with his hand ever so gently in your hair, you allowed yourself to come closer, until the distance finally faltered. his lips pressed against yours, something he had found himself dreaming about for too long. your lips melted, colliding so gently, he swore they were made for each other. he had kissed a countless amount of women, but never like that. every ounce of regret left your body, and all you could do was kiss back. it was what you wanted more than anything. you wanted him.

he stroked your arm gently, his thumb tracing circles on your skin, sending shivers of a different kind down your spine. you looked up at him, feeling your heart race a little faster as you thought about what you wanted to say. he was so warm, so solid and comforting, and you felt a sudden rush of love for him that was almost overwhelming. you took a deep breath and whispered, “i've never done this before.” his eyes searched yours, understanding and patience in their depths. he leaned forward and kissed your forehead, his breath warm against your skin. “that's okay,” he said, his voice a gentle rumble. “we'll take it slow.”

the room was filled with a tension that was both nerve-wracking and exciting as you both realized the gravity of the moment. you felt a blush spread across your cheeks, but yoongi just held you tighter, his eyes filled with nothing but affection and reassurance.

he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear as he said, “but are you sure?” his question hung in the air, the only sound the soft rustle of the covers and the muffled sounds of the winter night outside. you nodded, feeling your pulse quicken. “i'm sure,” you whispered back, your voice barely audible.

yoongi pulled back, looking into your eyes, searching for any hint of doubt. finding none, he leaned in and kissed you softly, his hand moving from your arm to cup your cheek. the kiss grew deeper, more urgent, as you both became lost in the moment. the bed dipped slightly as he shifted his weight, moving to adjust himself beside you, his hand still cradling your face. his eyes searched yours, asking for permission, and you gave it with a shy nod.

he started to kiss your neck, his lips feather-light as they moved down to your collarbone. you felt his hand slowly make its way down your body, and your breath hitched in anticipation. the cold outside was forgotten as the heat between you grew, a warmth that seemed to drive away every other concern. his touch was gentle, exploratory, as if he was learning every inch of you. you felt your body respond, your heart racing and your skin tingling where he touched. his fingers traced the line of your jaw, then moved to the hem of your shirt, his thumbs hooking under the fabric.

you lifted your arms, allowing him to pull the shirt over your head, the cool air of the room making you shiver again. but as soon as the shirt was off, his warmth was back, his chest pressed against yours, his hands running up and down your back in soothing strokes, only to make another appearance, fondling your tits in a way so gentle, even he couldn't believe it. he listened to your soft moans, and it took everything in him to resist pounding you right then and there. the snow continued to fall outside, casting a serene, silent backdrop to the intimate scene unfolding in the warmth of the bedroom. the only sounds were the soft rustle of the covers and the steady beat of two hearts, in sync with each other.

his eyes never left yours as he reached for the button of your pants, his gaze filled with a mix of love and lust. you felt a thrill of excitement and nerves as he undid the button, then the zipper, his hands moving with purpose and care. he slid your pants down, revealing your bare legs to the cool air. you felt his warm breath against your skin as he kissed his way down your stomach, making you gasp.

the anticipation was almost unbearable, your body trembling with a mix of cold and desire. yoongi took his time, his kisses like a warm embrace against the winter's chill. he reached your navel, and your hips instinctively arched towards him. his eyes never left yours, as if asking for confirmation at every step.

he gently pushed your legs apart, his eyes filled with a tenderness that made you feel cherished. his hand trailed down your inner thigh, and your skin burned with every touch. when his fingers finally reached the place where no one else had been before, you tensed, but his soft, reassuring whispers kept you relaxed. with a feather-light touch, he began to explore, his movements slow and deliberate. each caress against your soaking pussy sent waves of pleasure through you, and your eyes fluttered shut as you moaned softly. the cold air was forgotten, replaced by the warmth of his body and the gentle pressure of his hand.

“fuck, princess, so wet for me,” he murmured, his dick painfully hard, practically begging for you.

as he touched you, he watched your reactions closely, learning what made you gasp, what made you shiver with pleasure. his eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of discomfort or hesitation. but all he saw was a deep, unspoken trust that made his heart swell with love. you felt your body responding to his touch, and you reached for him, your hands shaking slightly as you pulled his shirt over his head. his skin was hot against your palms, and you traced the lines of his muscles, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath your fingertips.

the snowfall outside grew heavier, the world outside muffled and distant. the only thing that mattered was the warmth of his body against yours, the feel of his skin under your hands, and the love that was growing stronger with every shared moment.

as he pulled his boxers down, you realized just how unprepared you really were. he could stretch you out as much as he wanted, it still couldn't prepare you for what caught your eye. he was big, and he knew it. he was big and throbbing against the flesh of his abdomen, and a you could do was stare. “it's not gonna fit,” you whispered. despite his laugh, your words only made him harder. the thought of you, so small and fragile under him, breaking because of his cock—it made him desperate for you. yoongi leaned in, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “you'll take it, yeah?” you nodded, your eyes wide and filled with a mix of excitement and nerves. he kissed you again, deep and slow, as if trying to imprint every sensation on your soul. you felt him shift, the bed protesting slightly under his weight as he positioned himself above you. he reached for the condom on the nightstand, his movements sure and practiced. but his eyes never left yours, filled with a tenderness that was almost painful in its intensity.

you felt his hard, pulsing cock against your entrance and it was enough to make you gasp. he let out a sigh, the sight of you so vulnerable for him enough to make him cum on the spot. as he entered you, the world outside disappeared, replaced by the feeling of him filling your pussy up, the sound of your mingled breaths the only music in the room. it was a moment of pain, quickly overshadowed by a deeper, more profound sensation of belonging. you held onto him tightly, your nails digging into his back as he began to move, his rhythm gentle and steady. each stroke was a promise of forever, a declaration of love in the most primal and intimate way possible.

“so fucking tight, holy shit,” he groaned, eyes flashing between the way your pussy sucked him up, so pretty and greedy, and the way your face scrunched up in pleasure, pure pleasure. you and yoongi moved together, each stroke bringing you closer to the precipice of pleasure. your breaths grew ragged, your hearts pounding in unison as you climbed higher and higher. and when you finally fell over the edge, you came all over him. “just like that, all over my dick.”

you were overwhelmed, the foreign feeling gracing you with an irreplaceable euphoria you've so badly been craving. he leaned forward, capturing your lips in yet another messy kiss, his hands erratic. they moved as fast as they could, savoring the way your tits felt in them, the way your fleshy thighs spilled out of them. as he pounded into you, a you could do was moan into his mouth. “so good, fuck, yoongi,” the sound of his name leaving your mouth in such a dirty position was enough to send him over the edge.

he was desperate, his hips slamming into your pelvis as his dick brushed your sweet spot. your walls squeezed him, practically milking him for all he had to offer. his groans grew louder as he neared his high, his thrusts sending your eyes into the back of your head as he savored you. you were all his. “gonna cum, fuck,” he moaned, and he was right. he came with a groan, lost in the way you moaned for him, foreheads pressed against each other. he came into the condom, his dick throbbing into your cunt as he did so. it was good, so good.

when he finally pulled out, you did nothing but stare into each other's eyes. you knew that you had just shared something incredibly special, something that would change everything. but as you looked into his eyes, you also knew that no matter what was to come, you would face it together, wrapped in the warmth of your love, and it was stronger than any storm.

“i love you,” this time, it was your turn to say it. for a second, the fear of him leaving, discarding you like you meant nothing to him, like you were just another girl, became present. you weren't just another girl, you never were. “i love you, too.” it was enough, more than enough. how could you ever be just another girl? he alone wasn't strong enough against the cold, not without you.

✧.*

a/n: i hope this does well because this cliché took so long to write lol!! if it does, i'll do a follow-up, as there's a lot of unfinished business haha. only if it's what the readers want. thank you for reading!!!

[mykoreanlove]

You're sick

The number you have dialed is not in service. Please call again later.

What the actual fuck? Jackson took another puff of his cigarette before reaching for his drink again. She blocked me? She fucking blocked me?! He took another sip of the brown liquor, not even feeling the burn in this throat anymore. The only thing he felt was anger. His eyes were glued to the screen, still unable to process what has happened. How could you block me? I’m Jackson Wang from China for fuck’s sake. He took another long sip sadly accepting the fact that even his fame couldn’t guarantee him a shot at love.

You’re sick. Those were your final words to him. He replayed you saying that hundreds of times. You had that painful look in your reddened eyes, tears straining your flushed cheeks, breath stuck in your throat as you let go of him. Jackson spit out the nastiest things as his ego was taking a blow right there. He watched you pack your stuff and leave his apartment, leaving him for good.

At least you didn’t cheat on him. He smirked devilishly thinking that this was some kind of progress since the girl before you fooled him for weeks on end. But if he was honest with himself it didn’t feel like progress at all. It felt like heartbreak, like suffering, like a never-ending loneliness that has crept into his bones. At this point in his life those feelings felt like a part of him. You were right, he thought to himself, I am sick.

Jackson poured himself another glass as he was remembering the first few weeks he shared with you. He liked the excitement of becoming yours - being glued to his phone eagerly anticipating your texts became normal, having someone to share the highs and lows of his days with felt so natural and you giving him all of your attention made him feel so important.

He adored the passion you elicited in him – staying up most nights to explore your body thrilled him, being the one fucking you brainless turned him on endlessly and cuddling you to sleep while stealing sweet kisses made him domestic.

He loved forming a true connection with you - opening up about his struggles was easy since you’ve always been so empathetic, holding you in his arms under the stars while planning the future seemed logical and falling in love was inevitable, especially for someone as love-addicted as Jackson.

This sweet feeling of love took over his whole being which made him noticeably happier. Jackson finally felt like he was appreciated for who he was as a man and not for being an artist. He didn’t even care that he had to slow down his career, so that he could spend more time with you. He didn’t care about music sales, brand deals or future career options – all he cared about was you.

Until he didn’t.

His mind got pestered with doubts, anxiety clouding his every thought. What if this was too good to be true? What if you left him in the end? What if relationships weren’t just his thing? Could he really neglect his career for you? After all, his career would never wake up and abandon him one day…

Jackson felt himself slipping into old patterns. This was no longer the confident man that you fell for but a coward that shied away from love and gave into fear. Unable to stop his inner demons, he gave into them, turning into a self-sabotaging monster once again. Better hurting you than getting hurt himself, right?

He gulped down the remains of the liquor and let out a desperate sigh. Why did I do this? Why am I so stupid? He ran his hand through his blonde hair, tugging on it as if self-harm would ease his self-inflected pain. He thought about the downfall of your relationship: Joyful calls turned into silence, sweet acts of love turned into egocentric ignorance and soulful connection turned into manipulation. This was no longer a blooming relationship; this was him having his way with you. He controlled you by giving you love if he needed it and tossed you aside if you came too close to him. Jackson often wondered how long you’d play this game with him, how much it took to break you. Turns out that fucking his dancer in front of you did the trick. Crying and arguing got replaced with your silence – this was you being done with him. This was him being left with his sickness – once again.

[fuck-your-chickenstrips-hoe]

Some days, all I can think about is the unquenchable longing for 2014-2019 Wattpad fics. I miss the storylines. I miss the emotional termoal so good that my parents used to just give up as soon as I mentioned, "So there's this book....". I miss the character development of Y/N and OCs. I miss the weird ass Sex. I miss the randomly placedJackson Wang and how he could just show up no matter the fandom. I miss the weird fan theories. I miss the beef in the comment section. I miss the WACK ass mash-ups. [ There was absolutely 0 reason for Paw Patrol X Obama] Shit, I really miss the samless creativity and the hate for paying for fics.

The Point is that I miss you 2014-2019 wattped.....

[kpop-in-new-albion]

I love seeing people’s take on the MV and you’re story is another example of a great theory! Seriously!  I love the idea you came up with! The idea of Jackson being a soldier and you being a princess who would do anything for him. I don’t want to give away the ending but I loved it!  The most striking tragedies are the most intimate ones. Thank you so very, very, very much for writing this! It was truly spectacular!

Retrouvailles

Retrouvailles - The happiness of meeting again after a long time

Pairing: Jackson Wang (Got7) x Reader

Genre: Ghost AU, fluff, angst

Rating: sfw, 16

Warnings: Since it is a ghost AU it means they are dead.. mentions of a war, mentions of death, a dagger, reader choosing to die instead of marrying someone else (a bit dramatic but you’d be like that when you love Jackson Wang… I guess)

Wordcount: 2.480

A/N: Based on theories around his M/V ‘100 Ways’. Oh my god.. I am soo excited for this! Like I had some sort of slump but I wanted to write this soo much and I overcame it just with that story and I love it! It’s something I never tried before. I really hope you’ll like it as much as I do! Please enjoy this one shot (and maybe tell me what you think!)

The minute you opened your eyes, nothing but darkness surrounded you. You turned your head, trying to find any source of light but there was none. You couldn’t even see the back of your hand or any other form of outline.

Instead of panicking you remained calm and tried to focus on your other senses. You couldn’t pick up any scent around you, nothing to give you any clue where you were. The same for your sense of touch. You didn’t feel a thing around you, not even the temperature, as if you got stuck in some kind of void.

Only when you tried to concentrate on any sounds and came up with nothing, you noticed something odd. Normally in a silent room you would still be able to hear your own heartbeat, a sound which got normally ignored, but it would be there.

You didn’t have a heartbeat.

Confused, you tried to make sense of your situation. You desperately tried to remember what happened before you woke up in this darkness. 

Keep reading

[kcake555]

Jackson Wang cake 🍰

[soultiesblog]

⠀ ⌕⠀› querida, bambi

ⓘ informações adicionais↷

⠀· jackson wang (got7) + joy (red velvet)

⠀· você encontrará possivelmente os materiais aqui

⠀· em caso de inspiração, dê os devidos créditos ♡

[pars-ley]

Title: Come Alive (part two) Pairing: Jackson Wang x f reader Summary: Having not heard from Jackson since he pretended to be your boyfriend to ward off unwanted attention, you try to push him out of your mind, that is until you run into him when you least expect it. Genre: Fake dating au / strangers to lovers au / heartbreak / angst / fluff / smut Rating: 15 (Nsfw-smut in future chapters) Warnings: some brief mild "friendly" threatening behaviour / foul language W/C: 2.2k Banner: @nixiecreates creating pure perfection. Beta: @seokgyuu thank you so much for you kind and encouraging words Tag list: @foofarny @kzokssb @galadrielthepsycho @sumzysworld @vminjackbaddie Notes: just a short chapter as I'm easing into the story that will unfold. I'm so excited. Please like, comment, reblog as it really helps!

"Can I get a medium latte and a slice of the lemon sponge, please?” You ask the barista, at the coffee shop around the corner from your apartment.

“Uh, sure, to have in or takeaway?” He responds with a bright smile, seeming slightly over the top.

“Have in, please.” 

He nods enthusiastically, “coming right up, tap when you're ready.” He points to the contactless card machine and rushes off to make your drink. “Swap with me.” He whispers to the other worker at the coffee machine, practically shoving him out of the way. Frowning, bewildered by his behaviour you shrug it off and make your payment before heading to the other end of the counter to wait for your order.

Taking a quick glance at the seating, you are pleased to see there are a few tables you can choose from, much to your relief. You need to get some work done and with your upstairs neighbours having renovations in their apartment, the noise there is almost impossible. So you came to your sanctuary, your favourite coffee shop with not only the best coffee, but most importantly, the best cakes. 

“Here you are.” The barista says with that same wide, slightly manic looking grin, as he hands you the tray. “Call me, anytime.” He whispers, but still loud enough for the people in the queue to hear, resulting in their quiet sniggers. You glance down at your order and see the scrawl of some numbers on your napkin and your face heats, only made worse by the fact you can feel so many eyes on you. Smiling awkwardly, you blurt out, “Sorry, I have a boyfriend,” before taking the tray and making a quick escape to your table by the window. 

Once seated you spin the cup to take a proper look at it.

The name ‘Lyle’ stares at you in bold, messy italics. Groaning to yourself, you turn the cup back back around and set your bag on the seat next to you, pulling out your laptop and hoping that the eyes you could still feel on you were only your imagination. 

You most definitely did not want to call him. Especially since you still haven't forgotten about Jackson. It has been a month since you met him at the club and you've had no text or call from him whatsoever and yet, he has crossed your mind more regularly than you would care to admit.

You shrug the thought away as you load up your work and dig into your cake, relishing the sharp lemon flavour of the sponge combined perfectly with the sweetness of the drizzled icing on top.

“Does this boyfriend have a name?” a voice beside your table startles you, your fork freezing in mid air while your mind races to come up with an answer for the persistent barista.

Glancing up at him, determined to continue your lie, you start, “l-” but stop when you see a familiar face smiling down at you. “Jackson?” you drop your fork and stand up to greet him. He wraps an arm around your shoulders and kisses you lightly on the cheek, lingering a little too long for just a casual greeting. “It’s great to see you, y/n.”

You can’t help smiling up at him, your bodies almost pressed against each other and radiating intense heat between the tiny gap. 

“y/n?” Another voice sounds and a smiling face appears from behind him.

“Do I know you?” you wonder.

“No, no, sorry, I’m Mark, Jackson’s friend, but boy, have I heard a lot about you.” he grins.

Arching a brow you peer up at Jackson and note the faint flush of pink dusting across his cheeks and have to fight the amusement that tugs at your mouth. “Good things, I hope?”

“Oh, yes, very,” is all Mark responds, snapping his mouth shut when Jackson throws him a deathly glare. Biting your lip in an attempt to keep your excitement and amusement at bay and watch as Jackson turns your coffee cup towards him, looking at the numbers written there, “so, is this boyfriend real or did you need a fake one again?” 

The smirk that plays on his lips has your heart pounding against your ribcage, creating a tune just to serenade him with.

“I guess I could have really used your assistance again.” 

He laughs and then his eyes fall serious, seeming unsure of what he wanted to say.

“So still no boyfriend, huh?” Mark interrupts the silence, as he stares very obviously at Jackson.

You shrug, “nope, I seem to have this problem…” tapping your chin thoughtfully, “where guys don't call me.” 

Jackson groans and dips his head into his hands, “I know, I know, I was going to call, but then…” he hesitates, searching for the right words.

“He was being a little bitch about his ex,” Mark interrupts, “but, he's over that now, aren't you?” he scolds and you have to fight the urge to laugh.

“Yes, definitely.” Jackson responds staring intently at you, eyes burning through you and starting a surprisingly intense heat inside you. “I'm sorry, I should have at least sent a text.”

“Hey, if you're not ready, you're not ready, can't help meeting at shitty timing.” you smile graciously, trying to hide your disappointment and hoping you're succeeding.

“I'm ready, now,” he insists, stepping closer to you. “If I haven't blown my chance?”

Your heart hammers so loud in your chest, you can barely hear his words, but the resounding scream inside your head tells you what you've decided. “Why don't you message me and find out?”

He beams at you and nods, “yes, for sure.”

Your cheeks warm slightly and you have to break eye contact, if you want your brain to ever work normally again. Getting lost in his eyes is dangerously easy.

“Miss, are these guys bothering you?” A voice sounds next to you and your eyes drift slowly over following the sound. Who should it be? None other than Lyle, the barista. Thinking he's being a knight in shining armour, when in reality he's disturbing a moment you have hoped for since the night you met Jackson.

You bite your lip, as the awkwardness only continues to grow as you watch Lyle sneer at the two of them, it would almost be laughable if you weren't so disappointed by the interruption. 

Jackson glances slyly at you, a devilish smirk playing across his mouth and as if you can read his mind, you give him a sly wink.

Jackson steps towards him, glancing at the barista's badge, “Lyle, is it?”

He nods in response, suddenly seeming unsure of himself for butting in.

“I really appreciate the concern for my girlfriend, thank you for checking in on her and her well-being,” Jackson's hand lands on Lyle's shoulder, meant as a friendly gesture but you can tell it's also a warning by the firm grips he holds. He picks up your coffee cup and turns it towards Lyle, “and as you can gather, she won't be calling you. No hard feelings, right?”

Lyle shakes his head quickly, cheeks slightly pink and spins on his heels, making his way back behind the counter.

“Thank you.” You fight back a laugh. “you come to my rescue once again.” 

“Always happy to be your fake boyfriend.” he beams at you.

“Or,” Mark chimes in again, “you could just date each other, then you could be her real boyfriend.” He mimes bashing your head's together which would have made you laugh ordinarily but you're hyper focused on Jackson's reaction to that.

He fixes Mark with a hard stare before turning back to you. “I'm sorry, I'm really out of practice with dating.” He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “I'll call you later today and we can arrange a date? I mean, if you'd like to, that is? I don't mean to assume.” His face flushes pink and you can't help but bite your lip from the sight.

“I would love to, but,” you pause just to torture him a little more, “why don't you give me your number this time, in case you chicken out again.”

He gives you a bashful grin before pulling out his phone, typing away and then returning it to his pocket. “Done.”

You feel your cell vibrate in the back pocket of your jeans. “Ok, then.”

Both smiling at eachother like idiots, you're interrupted by Mark once again, “ok, lovebirds, we better get going so we're not late for the game.”

“Game?” You wonder.

“Basketball, a group of us play every week.” Jackson glances down at his watch. “Shit, you're right.” He takes a step towards you, “sorry, I've got to go but I promise I'll call you tonight.”

You nod, excitement blooming like roses in your stomach but a small whisper in the back of your mind does not want to get your hopes up again.

His fingers gently clasp your hand, and pull it up to his mouth, he presses his lips to the back of your knuckles, an action that almost has you swooning but you manage to stay upright.

“Really great to meet you!” Mark calls, as he heads towards the exit, drawing people's eyes in your direction.

Jackson backs away without another word, glancing back at you until he's out the door and out of sight.

You sit down, feeling dazed, your hand feels cold where his lips touched your skin, burning them with the memory of the tender kiss. Opening up your laptop and attempting to focus on today's tasks proves difficult when all you can think about is the hopeful impending conversation you would have with him later.

Pulling out your phone, remembering that he'd messaged you, so you could save his number and you see the text. Your mouth stretches in Cheshire grin before you can stop it seeing his message:

Unknown: can't wait to speak later

Just that simple sentence had you giddy and feeling like a love sick idiot. You also couldn't wait till later. 

*

Signing out at 5pm on the dot, you pack away your work things now you are back home. The renovations were still ongoing, the noise reverberating through your apartment like wildfire, making plans in your head to go out for dinner, until your phone rings, halting all other thoughts.

You see Jackson's name on your screen, scrambling to answer it and taking a deep breath to quell the excitement before you speak.

“Well, this is a nice surprise.” you start, sounding a lot cooler than you feel.

His deep laughter vibrates your ear, sending delicious shivers down your spine. “There's no chickens here today, ma’am.”

You can't help but laugh at his reference to your earlier comment. “I can see that. Nice to hear from you. How was the game?”

Settling on your sofa, pulling you legs up to get cosy, you listen in. 

“Yea, good, my team won, of course.” 

How can his voice sound even more devastating over the phone? Every word drips with velvet.

“There's nothing wrong with your ego, is there?” you tease.

“Not when it comes to things I know I'm good at.”

“And I bet you're good at many things.” the words leave your mouth before you can stop them, hanging in the air thick and heavy, until he speaks.

“I guess you'll just have to stick around and find out.”

You hold in the squeal that's bursting to escape, as more loud bangs and drilling sound around you.

“What on earth is that sound?” He asks.

Letting out a frustrated sigh you explain about your neighbours and your plans to stay out this evening, hoping when you return the noise would have dissipated somewhat.

“If you're free tonight, why don't we have dinner?” He asks, sounding nervous for the first time today.

Biting your lip and grinning you nod frantically, “oh sorry,” you laugh, realising he can't see you, “I was nodding. I would love that.”

“Ok, great, I'll pick you up in half an hour?”

“Perfect.” Holy fuck, you need to get ready fast.

You text him your address and raid your wardrobe, opting for a black dress with flat shoes, something simple but classic so you would fit whatever type of restaurant you go to. Your hair is beyond saving, so you pull it up in a rough bun, which for once turns out great. You neaten the very minimal makeup you have on when your doorbell goes. Your heart hammers wildly in your chest, galloping like a horse that carries you to your front door. Pulling it open, your mind goes blank seeing him standing there all in black. A fitted black t-shirt, with black trousers and shoes, he looked devastating in such a simple ensemble.

“You look…” swallowing and trying to appear calm, “amazing.”

His answering smile almost floors you. “I was thinking the same thing, you look beautiful. And we match.”

Looking down at your outfit you can't help but laugh at the coincidence. 

“Are you ready to go?” He asks.

Nodding, you grab your bag and keys and lock up. His fingers entwine through yours and he searches your eyes for permission, smiling as you give his hand a reassuring squeeze. It feels nice, the simple action of your hands clasped together, natural and comfortable. Your usual first date nerves have evaporated, maybe it's because you've spent time with him already, maybe it's because you know what it's like to kiss him, or maybe he's just a good match for you. Only time will tell.

[gummieturtle]

Peter discovers Jackson Wang parties are multiversal

crack fic idea: Spidey in Gotham trope x the infamous Jackson Wang party scene

Tim and Duke drag Peter to a party one of their classmates is hosting and Peter's asks “who's hosting” and Tim/Duke say “Jackson” and Peter's like “huh I've never met him before” and he goes in the house and does a double take before realising “…JACKSON WANG?!” and it's revealed that Peter has read Spiderman fanfiction that people have written about him back home in the MCU universe where the fanfiction version of Spiderman has been to many a Jackson Wang party and he's flabbergasted that in this universe the fanfiction trope has become true

[michaelceraifhewasagirl]

hey whores so just one question what the fuck WHY IS MY SMUT BLOWING UP GET A GRIP PEOPLE

There is a perfectly good Pjo fanfic on my account and I would appreciate it if you SAVE YOUR SANTIY and read that 😆 on a real tho thank you so much for 700 and smth notes on the smut that is so insane

[kwanisms]

please note that I am no longer actively writing for got7 and that by putting this groups in the 'archive' does not necessarily mean I will stop writing for them entirely. Any series originally planned for any members in the archive have either been put in the vault or recasted.

🔞 many of these works contain sexual content (18+ mdni) 🔞 ♤ — angst :: ♡ — fluff :: ♧ — smut ✍ — ongoing :: ⊝ — hiatus :: ⊗ — discontinued :: ✓ — completed

— oneshots

»» First Time ♧ i. jaebeom

➥ 3.1k; Y/N's first time with her boyfriend

»» Second Time ♧ i. jaebeom

➥ 3.1k; ever since her first time with her boyfriend, Y/N has felt like he was holding back. so she decides to see for herself what he's really like in bed.

»» Never Mine ♤ w. jackson

➥ 2.3k; jackson has fallen in love with Y/N, only there's a problem. Jinyoung is her boyfriend.

»» the Day Death Fell in Love ♤♧ p. jinyoung

➥ 12.5k; they say you only become a grim reaper if you've done something terrible in a past life. Whether or not that's true, Jinyoung didn't care. He had a job to do and he did his job well, guiding souls to the afterlife. That is, until he met Y/N.

ⓘ DISCLAIMER :: MONSTER/ALIEN FUCKER ENTHUSIAST ⓘ ©️ kwanisms 2024 | all works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works. All graphics made by me.

[yiensaintlaurent]

00 | the other side - mark tuan

pairing: mark tuan x reader

genre: angst, smut, idol! got7, idol! reader

warnings: cursing, explicit sex, takes place in present time with minor flashbacks

summary: mark knew it was game over the minute he saw you. despite being apart from each other for so long, no amount of practice in front of the mirror would've prepared him for the way his heart dropped the moment he saw you walk in. he'd forgotten about the hold you had on him, you; the love of his life, the one that got away.

character preface

mark tuan :

male

age: 29

birthday: september 4, 1993

currently living in arcadia, la county, california, u.s.a

y/n:

female

age: 25

birthday: september 15, 1997

currently living in seoul, south korea

originally from new york city; part time in los angeles

all got7 member info is in present time.

let me know if i should post ch. 01 :)

______________________________________________________________

disclaimer:

slight or recurring mentions of other idols, groups, familiar names.

despite it taking place in present time, with real time events, this story the plot and scenarios are 100% made up

[daydreaming-in-daisies]

idk about y'all but i would love to go to one of those "jackson wang parties" we always see in fanfiction