#Lost in Time - ch 4

[oceanatydes]

HELLO?? CH 1-4?? IS THIS A MISTAKE

[omegaversereloaded]

"Hello everyone, My name is Amina Yasser, I am 28 years old. I am married to Khalil Arhim, 34 years old. I am a mother of three children, Nasser, 8 years old, my daughter Baraa, 4 years old, and my son Adam, 2 years old. My husband had his own business. He was a sound engineer and had his own sound equipment. This work provided for me and my children. I cherish them more than anything in my life. We lost our home, our lives, and our jobs. They and I were displaced and displaced nearly five times. We live in Gaza, where conditions are difficult, but I believe that hope still exists." - From Amina's campaign page

I am writing this post for Amina @meemees-stuff and her beautiful family! My brother Ibrahim made me aware of this campaign, thank you!! 🥰

Nasser is suffering from malnutrition and that Adam is hungry and only eats once a day. Please, if you can spare any amount for this family, no matter how little, they will be eternally grateful!! 🩷🩷🩷

Proof of vetting (#19)

Thank you loves!!!! 🩷🩷🩷 happy holidays!!!!

[official-saul-goodman]

Hi

how are u ,

Can u give me few minutes from your time pls ,

Please spread your donation to us and help us get out of Gaza and rebuild our home Please post the link below to help us.

Hello my friend, maybe you can help me. I am Basel from Gaza, Palestine. My children and my wife live in the shadow of war, fear and destruction. We have miraculously escaped death several times. We have lost everything, our family, our friends, our home, our memories, our lives. Can you help me? Help me, just share the link on your personal page as much as possible to help my family leave Gaza safely and rebuild our destroyed home. Thanks for everything My family all live in a tent and have nothing to live on Please donate to our campaign and we will be grateful to youOur GoFundMe link,

https://gofund.me/b1b6e4fe

Hi everyone this is Basel and his fundraiser has already been vetted by multiple people

Please match my donation of $20 here's proof

[sayruq]

Amid Israel’s ongoing genocidal war on Gaza, maternal healthcare faces excruciating challenges. Deliberate and systematic Israeli attacks on hospitals and medical centers, and critical shortages of humanitarian aid, including medicine, have created a crisis that is endangering the lives of both mothers and newborns. The situation is critical. There are an estimated 50,000 pregnant women in Gaza and some 180 births every day. Israel’s decision in October to prevent food, water, fuel and electricity from entering Gaza created a desperate situation. Inadequate nutrition, exposure to cold and hot weather, the absence of clean water, and poor sanitation weigh heavily on the wellbeing of women and children. The circumstances force them to consume contaminated water, heightening the peril of dehydration and waterborne diseases, particularly among vulnerable groups such as expectant mothers, new mothers and young children. Fuel shortages and the constrained capacity of the few remaining medical facilities exacerbate the difficulty for women in labor to access hospitals. Um Amin, a mother with a few children, confronted with the harsh reality of displacement, recounted her family’s struggles during Israel’s aggression. As bombs relentlessly fell on their neighborhood, reducing their home to rubble, Um Amin had to seek refuge at a school run by the UN agency for Palestine refugees (UNRWA) in the northern Gaza Strip taking only very few belongings. She was pregnant. And in the school there was little by way of basic necessities such as clean water, food or even clothes for her children. She considered moving south, where food might be a little more accessible. Her husband refused, causing conflict between them.He feared not being able to return. And while she believed that the Israeli army was attempting to force them to leave, she also felt it was a matter of life and death for her children. “It was heart-wrenching to witness my kids fighting over scraps of bread. My 4-year-old started stashing away bread in his pocket for later. I was shocked. Before the war, I never slept without knowing my children were fed. Now, most of the time, I am certain they never feel satisfied.” Her entire motivation to carry on became a matter of feeding her children She denied herself food for their sake, but had also to remind herself of the child within her. “The baby inside me is also a priority, so I had to eat too.” She found the balancing act incredibly challenging, an unbearable burden of motherhood. “I am going to share something I’ve never told anyone I know: I contemplated suicide to escape the weight of this responsibility.”

After the Israeli army unexpectedly stormed al-Rimal, a Gaza City neighborhood, for a second time, Um Amin panicked and fled again, this time going from the UNRWA school to a relative’s house. But her fear caused her to enter preterm labor. A doctor, at the nearby al-Sahaba medical center, had to resort to a cesarean section. It was hell, Um Amin said. There was insufficient anesthesia and she could feel the scalpel cutting into her body. There was no electricity; the doctor had to use a handheld flashlight to see. Um Amin’s cries of pain could not drown out the crashing of shells around her. The operation left her utterly drained. She couldn’t believe she was still alive.She needed nourishment to recover what she had lost during the bleeding and to breastfeed her son. But hunger was stalking Gaza. Food was scarce, there was no white flour in the markets, and Israel was blocking aid trucks from entering the north. “All I had to eat was bread made from animal feed and water. When I had my other children, I relied on foods rich in animal proteins, but it was impossible this time. The price of meat was five times higher than normal.” Unable to adequately breastfeed her child, she had to find infant formula. But the price was multiple times higher than it used to be and more than she could afford. Eventually, she was forced to buy formula that was past its expiry date. “You might blame me, but there was literally no other option. I didn’t have enough money. It wasn’t clumped together, so the doctor told me it could still be used.” She would never find out. Due to the lack of clean water, she prepared the milk with non-potable water from a well. The baby refused to drink.

[class1akids]

"I like food"

I saw many posts people saying how random Shouto's line is about praying at Touya's altar and realizing that he likes food - and I wanted to point to how it helps wrapping up his arc.

Shouto is saying: "When I was praying at Touya's butsudan (Buddhist altar), I suddenly realized something, I liked eating food. I realized there's more to me than just the person I want to become."

Food was a "negative space in the Todoroki family, so liking food was not evident to Shoto growing up.

In Shouto's flashbacks with his family, we never see him eat food. His only memory tied to the kitchen is the kettle incident. We know from Natsuo that Shouto ate alone, a diet prescribed by Endeavor, no doubt all geared towards maximum performance, rather than enjoyment. Not even knowing your siblings favorite food is the ultimate symbol of how dysfunctional the household was.

2. Food was a positive space in Class A - tied to comfort, bonding, friendship

In class A, Shouto starts eating with Iida and Midoriya after the Stain incident. Food becomes comfort, connection, sharing, caring, teamwork, etc. He experiences things like using his fire to prepare food together, eating together, cleaning up.

Many memorable Shouto-scenes are tied to Class A eating together (e.g. heroes cry too) and he connects to Inasa over a discussion about favorite foods (udon vs soba) which is a theme that carries over to his endgame with Touya

3. As the Todoroki family tries to reconnect, food plays a central role

As the family changes, they attempt to reconnect around the family dinner table (the famous sluuurp scenes). But Todoroki dinners end in a disaster - still they are useful bringing to the surface important conflicts and trying to communicate about them (another important theme discussed in Shoto Rising).

There is more in the light novels: Shoto's and Rei's decade late reconnection as Rei offers him a little kid strawberry milk that she remembers he liked when he was 5, and their attempt to connect with Natsuo ending up in a mush of ruined soba - it's all out of sync.

4. Food as a symbol of lost time and broken futures

Food is also very central for the hopes of a happier future: Enji's dream of his family at the dinner table, Natsuo's regret about years of missed meals, Shoto wanting to share noodles with Toya, all culminating in the heartbreaking realization that they have the same favorite food they'll never get to share.

5. Food as a symbol of processing grief and healing

Praying at the butsudan (the Buddhist altar at home set up for a deceased loved one) involves the preparation of offerings of food and drinks, which then the family eats afterwards. We see this practice referenced in Ch 249 when Enji prays at Toya's altar.

So Shouto making a reference to it is a shorthand for telling us that Touya died at some point, Shouto is still grieving him and just like Deku and Ochako, he's trying to make sense for himself out of their short encounter. So wanting to learn how to make chopsticks and bowls (a traditional Japanese craft of woodwork and applying lacquer, often involving intricate patterns) implies that he wants to bring Touya the perfect offering, but also that he's finally stepping outside fully of the framework Endeavor created for the family, where children are cast into roles of heroes, villains and by-standers, masterpieces and failures but never human beings. He's thinking about what connects him and Touya together and who they would have been in a different story.

6. Shouto's personal arc

Shouto's character was always about balance. Balance between past and future, ice and fire, duty and family, etc. So crafting chopsticks and bowls to elevate good food connects the grief and survival guilt with healing and growth. It is both a tribute to Touya's memory and a new possible hobby to express still undiscovered sides of himself.

It fits the theme of the chapter "More" - as it focuses on what lies beyond being a hero, reaching a goal, working hard and how Izuku, Ochako and Shouto have been transformed by their experiences of trying to save their villains.

But it also fits Shouto's personal arc that was about discovering who Shouto really is. Earlier in the chapter, Shouto refers to being constrained into the framework of a bigger story, where his choices are bound to happen. As a hero of the sidestory of that manga, Shouto has no choice but decide what kind of a hero he wants to be (not-Endeavor, like All Might, reassuring, family hero). Encounters with his family helped crystallized this image of himself.

But now that he's being released from this story, he can look outside of the framework of a hero manga and discover those "more sides than just a hero". And Touya was the last encounter - the last piece of that puzzle. I think there is a parallel in how Tomura destroyed much of hero society - Touya also destroyed the foundations of the Todoroki family, so something different can maybe built.

Without Touya, I think the family would have kept at trying to piece themselves together in a tense, fake kind of peace to keep up appearances. If nothing else, Touya's actions tore through that need of saving face - leaving them all exposed and grappling with the harsh realities of their actions. But I think it also allowed the younger siblings to step outside the cage their parents created for them and build things better from scratch. It allows them to find more sides to themselves outside of the logic of the Todoroki household.

[smartkookiee]

Wounds We Never Show // Ch.4 — jjk.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・ ❥pairing: Jungkook x Reader (she/her, afab) ❥genre/rating: 18 +explicit content, enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers, enemies with benefits ❥chapter warnings/tags: Drinking, Swearing, Fighting, multiple uses of the middle finger, some medical talk, Smoking,.........SMUT, making out, heavy petting, dirty talk, protected sex (WRAP IT UP), cum eating, fingering, multiple orgasms, oral (f.receiving), cowgirl, JK a little obsessed with your body (squint), somewhat pathetic jk? yeah its really hot and intense just trust me, like the tension is so.... Oh it all sorts of confusing for everyone's feelings. This chapter had ME giggling ❥word-count: 15.1k (hehehe) ❥Series Masterlist Previous Chapter ||❥|| Next chapter ❥Playlist fic is cross posted to ao3 send an ask or comment on post to be added to the taglist! .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・

You had hoped—no—prayed, that your gas station encounter with Jungkook would be a one off encounter. You had pushed it from your mind and tucked it away because it probably would be the only time it would happen. It has been kicking up old memories these days. Old frustrations and annoyances as well. 

Many stories for another time, but college was on your mind now. How everything played out… you still to this day have no idea what set Jungkook off so bad. 

Sighing, you stirred your noodles in your ramen cup, eyes tracing little circles as you zoned out in thought. This side of the hospital was quieter, and you enjoyed the break room here. A small, cozy spot where you could actually hear yourself think. You were so lost in memories that you didn’t notice someone else had walked in.

“Y/N?”

You blinked and looked up, nearly dropping your chopsticks. Dr. Kim Seokjin stood beside you, his tall frame practically radiating energy. His white coat was open, slightly wrinkled as if he’d been speed-walking for hours, and he was flashing you the kind of grin that could probably be seen from space.

“Dr. Kim,” you said, straightening up, a polite smile forming. You’d wanted to talk with him yesterday, but schedules had kept you both busy. “Good morning, sir.”

“Good morning.” He laughed and held a hand out to you in a theatrical manner. “I know we’ve met before but thought I should reintroduce myself. Properly this time!” 

“Oh, no problem, sir. I feel like I know everything about you already, the others have been filling me in.” You took his hand, and his grip was warm and reassuring, with just a hint of that showmanship flair he couldn’t seem to hide.

“And I’ve been seeing your work in the charts,” he said, barely pausing for breath. “Your attention to detail is phenomenal! I’m really sorry I haven’t been around to welcome you properly! Vic’s thrilled to have you up here—I get why,” He puttered around the small room to the counters, taking an apple. “And listen, my office is always open if you need anything. Anything. Or just go and pester Yoongi,” he added with a gleam in his eye. “He needs a good pestering every now and then.”

You laugh, nodding. “Oh I have no issue bothering Yoongi.” 

“Perfect, you'll do great up here.” Tossing the apple up and catching it smoothly, he began to take a few small steps back out of the room, “Wish I could stay and chat more, but surgery calls. But hey, we’ll talk later this week. I promise!”

Right then, he bumped backward straight into Vic, who was stepping into the room with a look that could cut through any excuse Seokjin could come up with. She gave him a once-over, crossing her arms and tilting her head.

“Shouldn’t you be heading to surgery, Dr. Kim?” She asked, her voice dry as sandpaper.

Seokjin’s face twisted into a pout. “Wow, not even a good morning, Dr. Kim, you miracle-worker? Or maybe, how was your life-changing surgery last night?” He took an exaggerated bite out of his apple, grinning at her with a mischievous gleam.

Vic rolled her eyes but humored him, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Good morning, Dr. Kim, miracle-worker. How was your life-changing surgery last night? Now can you get to the surgical floor before they decide to operate on you instead?”

“Fine,” Seokjin continued to pout as he made his way out of the room, calling back. “I’ll have you know I saved at least seven lives last night!” 

“Great, now go save seven more!” Vic let out an exasperated laugh, closing the break room door. You laughed a little bit taking another bite of your ramen. Vic pulled up a chair in front of you, slumping down with a heavy sigh. 

“He certainty makes your life easy, huh?” You tease Vic, and she laughs. 

“Oh, definitely,” Vic replied, rolling her eyes but unable to hide her fond smile. “But he’s a good guy, even with all the theatrics. A great surgeon.”

“I believe it.” You said. Even though it was only your second day up here you had already heard so many good things. You knew Seokjin somewhat but now you felt like you really knew him—even though you had maybe two conversations. 

Vic leaned on her hand, watching you with a glint of curiosity. “Please tell me you have an interesting story or something to distract me with. I’m about to lose my mind doing the same rounds all day.”

You snort, dragging out a long sigh for effect., “I ran into Jungkook last night.” 

Her eyes lit up, and she sat up straight. “Oh really?”

“Turns out he works close to where I live. We bumped into each other at the store by my place.” You scrunch your face up in mild annoyance. 

“Booty call on demand. That’s convenient.” Vic laughs to herself but can tell you aren’t so amused. “Sorry, so was it weird?” 

You paused, “A little? He… wanted to talk about it.” 

“Oh, interesting.” Vic scooted her chair closer to you, like you were going to reveal some big secret. 

So, you told her everything—not that there was much to tell, but Vic was hanging on every word as if it were the best gossip she'd heard all week. You admitted you were hoping it was a one-off encounter; the idea of walking a couple of extra blocks just to avoid the place was tempting.

“How fun!” Vic leaned back in her seat and rested her arms behind her head. 

You roll your eyes, “You and I have different definitions of fun.”

Vic smirked, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Every time you guys meet, it’s like God flips a coin. Fight or... you know.” She wiggled her eyebrows playfully, her grin widening as you kicked her ankle under the table.

“Stop.” You stood up, mostly eager to escape her relentless teasing.

You pushed the thought of Jungkook out of your mind, spending the rest of the day diving into your rounds. By the time you finished, exhaustion hit you full force, but you decided you needed a quick pick-me-up. Maybe a small snack and an energy drink for tomorrow would do you some good. So you stopped by the convenience store near your apartment again today, hoping for a quiet, uneventful errand.

Well that was up until–

“Oh god damn it,” you muttered under your breath, spotting Jungkook at the end of one of the aisles. He noticed you at the same moment, blinking as if the universe had just pulled a fast one on him. 

“You’re kidding right?” Jungkook whispered into the air, looking up to the ceiling like he was talking to something else. Of course you would be here again, he had purposefully decided to show up at a different time in the hopes he wouldn’t run into you again but here you were. 

You quickly grabbed your snack, brushing past him without a word, darting to the drinks for a swift escape. Jungkook watched for a second before going back to his shopping, both of you clearly trying to act unaffected. After rushing to the counter, you checked out and slipped out of the store as quickly as you’d arrived. Behind you, Jungkook let out a quiet sigh, relieved, mentally vowing to stick to later store runs to avoid the awkwardness.

But the universe, it seemed, had other plans. The next day, the same scenario unfolded.

As you walked out of the store later the next evening, your steps faltered when you saw him entering. His expression mirrored your own—the wide-eyed disbelief, followed by something more annoyed and inpatient.

“Oh, Jesus.” Jungkook muttered, glancing heavenward as if to say seriously, again?

Your eyes narrowed, your disbelief morphing quickly into irritation. “Stalking me now, Jungkook?” Without missing a beat, you bumped your shoulder into his as you passed. Deliberately harder than necessary.

Jungkook snorted, throwing you an unimpressed glance. “You aren’t even worth the breath it would take to come up with an insult,” he muttered, turning away as if the encounter bored him.

You looked back, a mocking smile playing on your lips. “Disappointing,” you said, tone dripping with satisfaction. “Your comebacks are getting lazy.”

Jungkook just went inside, not even bothering with a response. He couldn’t help but think three times in the same week? This would be the most you and Jungkook had seen each in such a short period in five years. What kind of joke was this? Was this some kind of punishment for your ill-advised night together? Did the two of you tip some kind of karmic scale somewhere so you were doomed to keep running into each other? Whatever it was, Jungkook could only hope that this was the last time. 

Except it didn’t end there, cause the next evening–

You rounded the corner of an aisle only to freeze, spotting Jungkook standing by the drink fridge again, his back to you. He turned just as you did, his face falling into an exasperated glare. “Okay, now I really need a restraining order,” you said, folding your arms with an annoyed sigh.

“Funny, I’ve been nice enough to come at different times every day. Maybe I need the restraining order.” He pressed his tongue against his cheek, clearly just as irked. He yanked a drink from the fridge with unnecessary force, glancing at you as if daring you to counter him.

You shook your head, unimpressed. “I live in this neighborhood, so if anyone should be giving up their convenience store privileges, it’s you.”

Jungkook let out a dry laugh, stepping closer. “Maybe it’s fate’s way of telling you to find a new place.”

You scoffed, holding his gaze. “Please. If anything, fate’s just telling you that I was here first. So maybe you’re the one who needs to find a new store.”

“You’re not nearly as scary as you think you are, you know that?” He smirked, but there was a hint of challenge in his eyes. 

You raised an eyebrow. “Keep testing me, and you might find out just how scary I can be.” Grabbing your drink, you attempted to brush past him, but he shifted just enough to subtly stick his foot out. The move was barely noticeable—until you tripped, stumbling forward. You whipped around, eyes blazing with white-hot rage, only to see Jungkook with a look of pure satisfaction, like he’d just won some unspoken game.

“Oh, whoops.” he said, his voice dripping with childish amusement. Jungkook never thought in his grown age he would be intentionally tripping someone else, but he was always surprised when it came to your interactions.

“Seriously?” you hissed, glaring at him.

Jungkook shrugged, clearly unfazed as he made his way toward the counter, all too pleased with himself. “Careful, wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

You let out a scoff, not caring about the stares from the other customers as you muttered under your breath, “Fuck you.”

Jungkook looked back with an infuriatingly casual grin, then quickly left with a wave before you had the chance to retaliate. He was out of the store and gone before you could fully process the whole interaction, leaving you fuming and oddly rattled, wondering just how far this little war would go.

The tension between you two was unmistakably intensifying, each encounter adding to the growing irritation. Determined to avoid him, you decided to go to the store way earlier than usual the next day. You’d planned it all out in your head, you scoped out the store through the window, even checked up and down the street for any sign of him. It had appeared to be all clear. All you needed was some ibuprofen so this should be quick. Confident, you headed on inside, grabbed what you needed and checked out, hoping to finally break the streak of unfortunate coincidences.

But, of course, fate was not done testing you.

As you stepped out of the store, bag in hand, you glanced left and there he was. This time, he had a friend with him, chatting casually as they strolled down the street. Jungkook spotted you at the same moment, his face shifting from casual amusement to a mix of disbelief and exasperation.

A laugh escaped your lips despite yourself, part amusement and part resignation. The absurdity of it was almost impressive at this point. Jungkook’s friend noticed the interaction, giving him a curious look. Jungkook just sighed, visibly exhausted by the constant run-ins. Now Jimin got to experience this chance encounter.

At this point, you’d completely abandoned any pretense of politeness. Without breaking stride, you lifted both hands, middle fingers raised, and started walking backward up the street, smirking as you saw the irritation flicker across Jungkook’s face.

“Real mature.” Jungkook called, shaking his head.

You shrugged, calling back, “I go high when you go low.” With that, you turned on your heel and continued down the street. Jungkook sighed, grateful this encounter hadn’t escalated further.

Jimin watched you walk away, eyebrows raised. “You gonna explain what that was all about?”

“That,” Jungkook muttered, heading into the store, “was a usual encounter with Y/N.”

“Oh… oh.” Jimin nodded, connecting the dots. He and Jungkook had been friends for ages, so although he hadn’t met you before, he’d definitely heard tales of you—and now he was seeing it all firsthand. “You really weren’t joking.”

Jungkook snorted, grabbing a snack. “I couldn’t make this up if I tried.”

Jungkook began to give Jimin a quick rundown of the week’s events as they walked back to the office after getting a few things. Jungkook describes each encounter more ridiculous than the last, his annoyance apparent. Jimin’s grin only grew wider with every detail, eyes gleaming with amusement.

“Wait, so you’ve really been running into each other all week?”

“Like clockwork,” Jungkook muttered, exasperated. “It’s like she knows exactly when I’ll be here.”

“Well if you go missing, I’ll know where to start looking for you.” Jimin joked and Jungkook brushed him off. 

It wasn’t a joke. If Jungkook did go missing you probably would be the first suspect. You weren’t too far off from wanting to strangle him usually so it would be justified. 

Now it was Saturday and you were back at work so you decided to just avoid the store altogether today, no way you could run into him if you just didn't show up. Plus tonight you would be going out. Ash and you planned to go to an emo night and you couldn’t wait, it was your reward for making it through this week for sure.

Still, you found your thoughts drifting to Jungkook’s irritatingly smug face as you went about your work. You were so distracted that you barely noticed Ji-eun watching you, a touch of concern in her eyes.

“You okay, kid?” Ji-eun asked, her voice pulling you out of your thoughts. She tilted her head, studying you.

You blinked, realizing you’d zoned out completely. “Sorry,” you said with a sheepish smile as you noted her blood pressure on your tablet. “I got so distracted I didn’t even realize you were talking.”

She laughed, waving a hand as if brushing away your apology. “Oh, don’t be silly. I was just rambling about my kids anyway.” She gave you a knowing look. “But I can tell something’s weighing on you.”

You were a little taken aback by her question, “Oh it’s just personal things.” 

“Well I’ve got loads of advice if you need some. I’ve nothing better to do these days.” She gestured around at the obvious surroundings, she must have been getting bored as even though its only been a few days. The room had slowly been filling up with crochet projects, the corpes of the failed pieces had piled up in the corner of the room. “Come on, you can tell me while you finish up.” 

You chuckled, typing a few notes into your tablet. “It’s complicated… there’s this guy.”

Ji-eun cuts you off with a knowing smile, “Ain't it always a guy.” 

You laugh but shake your head, “Not with me usually. It’s also not like that… this guy is seriously just–” You paused, your mouth in a tight line and your shoulders rising just at the thought of Jungkook, “an absolute nightmare.”

“Nightmare? He sounds intense. What did he do to earn that title?” Ji-eun asked, her eyes wide with amused curiosity.

“Now that is a much longer and complicated story.” You sigh, continuing to move around her, beginning to inspect her skin. 

“Again. I have all the time in the world.” Ji-eun really was desperate for a good story, and honestly you were a little desperate to lay it all out on the table again. 

 You found yourself more willing to spill the details than you expected. “We knew each other in college but had a big blowout. Then ever since, we fight and argue and it sometimes borders on physical altercations. I’ve never met anyone who can get under my skin like he does. But we ended up as the maid of honor and best man at our friends’ wedding, and I thought maybe, just maybe, we’d be able to be civil.”

“And?” she prompted, amused.

You shook your head, moving to examine her skin as part of her routine. “We just fought again. Normally, I can avoid him in most situations, but this week? I’ve run into him every single day. It’s like he’s popping up everywhere.”

“Sounds like the universe is really having a field day with the two of you.” She grinned at you childishly.

You rolled your eyes, laughing as you checked Ji-eun’s arms and made sure there were no signs of discoloration or swelling. “Feels like it. I keep turning corners, and there he is, just… waiting to ruin my day.”

Ji-eun’s smile softened as she watched you, nodding as you recounted the drama. “Sounds exhausting,” she said gently. “Sometimes, we end up running into people like that for a reason though. Especially because it sounds like there is major unfinished business here.”

You sighed, moving down to check the circulation in her legs, grateful that she didn’t seem to mind your rambling. “Oh, there’s a reason all right—to remind me that my patience has limits.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “Believe me, I’ve had my share of people who made my blood boil. But, you know, it made me realize that some people test us because they see something in us. Sometimes, even if it’s frustrating, it’s a chance to learn something.”

“I don’t think there’s anything he sees in me other than a chance to annoy me. It’s been five years of this so if I was supposed to learn something I would hope I would have figured it out by now.” You note a few things in her chart. Ji-eun hadn’t been showing really any signs of fatigue lately but you could tell that she was shaking a little bit when holding up her legs. 

Ji-eun tilted her head, her tone thoughtful as she continued. “Sometimes, we’re put in front of the same person over and over because it’s life’s way of pushing us toward something or to be better. And that doesn’t have to mean romance—it could mean resolving something. Or maybe finding a way to make peace? Maybe this is the universe saying hey, heres you opportunity to fix everything?”

You scoffed softly, checking her pulse and nodding as it came back steady. “I don’t think peace is anywhere in our future.”

“Maybe, maybe not. Just don’t let him control your day-to-day. One lesson I’ve learned is to live for what makes you happy, not what keeps you frustrated. You don’t have to let him have so much power over your mood. He’s just a stupid boy after all. Sometimes, it’s just about saying to yourself, He’s not worth it.”

You considered her words, hesitating as you updated her notes on your tablet. She was right; it was draining to have Jungkook on your mind constantly, even if it was just anger. Maybe part of what frustrated you was how much headspace he took up, how he seemed to affect your peace.

“I guess I hadn’t realized how much he had been ruining my mood.” You let out a long dragged out sigh, “You are pretty good with the advice.”

“I know!” She flashed you a big cheesy grin again, immediately improving your mood. “I don’t have any daughters so it’s nice to grant what wisdom I have to someone else. About boys and other things.”

 You finish up with Ji-eun and you continue about the rest of your day in a much better mood. She was absolutely right, Jungkook was an idiot and you should not let him ruin your mood. After all you finally were going to spend a fun evening out with Ash. So you picked yourself up and pushed through the rest of the day to get to this evening. Ash would be coming over since she wanted to steal some clothes and make up for you. 

The two of you would be joining Hoseok for an emo night at the club you went too for Melanie's Bachelorette party. You had really been looking forward too it all week. It would be your reward for surviving Jungkook. 

Once you made it home, Ash had already arrived and was waiting outside. She made herself very comfortable shuffling through your closet like she lived here herself. You had already picked out an outfit aside so now you were really just waiting on Ash to make some decisions. In her rummaging you decided to call Melanie, filling her in on your eventful week with satan's spawn. 

“I think you’re being just a tiny bit dramatic,” Melanie said, her voice crackling through the phone as you absentmindedly scrolled on your phone. Namjoon and Melanie were still on their honeymoon but Namjoon wasn’t feeling good so she had a few minutes to talk. 

“I don’t think shopping at the same convenience store is going to kill you,” Melanie continued, the patience in her tone borderline condescending. 

“You don’t know that!” You protested, “For all I know, he could hex the place. Next time I walk in, bam! Up in flames.”

“Highly unlikely,” she said, her voice dry.

“I mean,” Ash pipes up from inside your closet, having pulled out a dress only to toss it back in. “You can’t completely rule it out, though.”

“See? Ash gets it.”

Melanie sighed. “Fine. If you go back to the convenience store and spontaneously combust, I will issue a formal statement in your obituary that I was wrong.”

“It’s the least you could do,” you said, throwing in an exaggerated sniffle for dramatic effect. You could practically hear Melanie’s eye-roll through the phone.

“Still, it’s kind of weird that you’ve lived there this long and never run into each other.” she muses.

Ash agrees from your closet. “Jungkook’s been working at that firm for like two years. It’s shocking your paths haven’t crossed.”

“It’s a sick, twisted joke is what it is,” you huff, folding a pair of jeans that Ash discarded. “Can’t believe he tripped me.”

“Again, dramatic,” Melanie muttered. 

“Yeah yeah enough about me. When do you guys get back? I need some Melanie time.” This was probably the longest stretch of period you had gone without seeing Melanie. You had been attached at the hip since you met basically.

“Tomorrow night, we will be in super late. Someone wanted to be back to work on Monday.” Her tone clearly pointed towards Namjoon. You let out a snort. It’s been two weeks since the wedding so Namjoon was probably itching to get back to his routine. 

Ash came out of your closet with a dress and leather jacket combo, “How does this look?” 

You think for a moment, “If you accessorize it I think it will be great.” Which you had plenty of accessories to dress it up just right. You also needed her to decide because it was already late and you two needed to start getting ready. 

“I can’t believe you guys are going out without me. You must hate me.” Melanie whines on the other side of the phone and you laugh at her. 

“You are in paradise. With the love of your life,” you laugh, plopping your phone down on the bed as you slip on your outfit. “I would take that over an emo night any day.”

“No, you guys hate me,” she insists, fake-crying loudly into the phone. You and Ash exchange amused glances.

“Aw, poor baby,” Ash coos into the phone, laughing as she rummages through your jewelry box.

After some playful back-and-forth, Melanie finally hangs up, still grumbling in betrayal. You and Ash pick up the pace, now racing against the clock to get ready. Ash is better at makeup than you, so once she’s done, she helps you with a bold, modern emo look—sharp eyeliner and dark lipstick that gives a bit of edge without going full 2010s throwback.

After some last-minute touch-ups, you and Ash finally head out, both buzzing with excitement. The club is packed when you arrive, but the line moves quickly, and soon you’re slipping inside to the familiar pulse of music and flashing lights. Inside, you and Ash share a grin, already swept up in the energy of the night.

Once inside, the club is already alive with energy, dark lights and neon hues casting a moody glow over the dance floor. People are scattered around, some nodding along to the beat, others fully immersed, lost in the music. You and Ash weave your way through the crowd, searching for Hoseok.

It doesn’t take long to spot him by the bar, where he’s already ordered a round for the three of you. He’s dressed to match the night’s vibe, with dark clothes and a silver chain, looking effortlessly cool. He grins as he catches sight of you both.

“My babies! Took you long enough!” he teases, sliding the drinks over as you reach him.

“Blame Ash,” you reply, elbowing her playfully.

Ash scoffs. “Please, you’re the one who needed help with eyeliner!”

“Whatever, it’s time to actually get this party started!” Hoseok says. The three of you clink glasses, laughing as you take your first sips. The familiar taste mixes perfectly with the thrum of guitar filling the air, already pulling you into the spirit of the night.

A song Ash knew immediately filled the air of the club and Ash let out an excited yell, grabbing your hand and pulling you onto the dance floor. You barely have a moment to take another sip before she’s dragging you through the crowd, laughing all the way.

Hoseok follows, and soon the three of you are lost in the sea of people, letting the music take over. Ash throws her arms up, singing along to every word, and you find yourself joining in, laughing when you miss a lyric here or there. Hoseok, usually the smoothest of dancers, isn’t above a little head-banging, which only makes you all laugh harder.

After a while, you retreat to the edge of the dance floor, panting and grinning. Hoseok comes back with another round, passing you something sweet. The refreshing drink is exactly what you need after dancing up a storm.

“Oh, this is perfect,” you sigh, savoring the cool, sugary flavor.

Ash, fanning herself dramatically, suggests, “Let’s catch some air.” You and Hoseok nod, following her outside. The November night is brisk, and the cold air hits you like a splash of water—invigorating after the club’s stuffy heat. You take a deep breath, grateful for the moment to cool down.

As you settle into a quiet corner on the patio, mostly used by smokers, Ash turns to you. “Was that bartender from last time here?” she asks, her eyes gleaming with curiosity.

You shake your head, a little disappointed. “Nope. I was hoping to see him, though! Maybe he’s just not working tonight.”

“Boo,” Hoseok pouts, placing his hands on your shoulders and giving you a playful shake. “Don’t worry, we can find you someone better.” 

“Oh yeah?” you laugh looking over your shoulder at him. 

“He does know like everyone.” Ash smirks, it was true. It was always a staple for your group outings that Hoseok always knew someone. Hoseok is a magnet for people. Outgoing and effortlessly charming, he always manages to bump into familiar faces no matter where you go.

Hoseok just shrugs with a mischievous smile. “What can I say? I’m a people person.”

“I think I’m okay.” You giggle leaning against one of the walls next to you guys. 

Hoseok does seem to have something catch his eye a little too quickly. “Don’t hate me but I’ll be right back.” 

Before either you or Ash could get a word in Hoseok hopped away over to another group that was just out of your sight. “How does he do that?” Ash laughs trying to follow him with her eyes. 

“I don’t get it either. He just loves meeting people.” You sip on your drink for a second, it giving you a much needed buzz. Hoseok definitely made sure this second drink was a little stronger than the first. 

“Oh I think he is waving us over.” Ash grabs your wrist and starts pulling you in his direction. It takes a little bobbing and weaving past other groups out here but he eventually comes into sight. Waving at the both of you with a big smile on his face from something someone said in the group. 

“Jimin!” Hoseok gestures enthusiastically as you approach. “Meet my friends Ash and Y/N!”

Jimin turns, flashing a warm smile as he extends his hand. “Nice to meet you both! Hoseok’s told me all about you.”

“Oh no,” Ash teases, shaking his hand with a stare at Hoseok. “I hope he didn’t embarrass us.”

Jimin laughs, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “Only good things, I promise. You’re safe.”

As you shake his hand, something about him feels strangely familiar, though you can’t quite place it. “How do you know Hobi?”

Jimin grins, throwing an arm around Hoseok’s shoulders. “Oh, we go way, way back. I could tell you so many stories.”

“Way too many,” Hoseok chuckles, nudging him. “I don’t need them using any of those stories against me.”

“Too late,” you laugh, and the three of you share a smile.

 Just then, Hoseok’s eyes light up as he glances to the side. “Ah, there you are!” he says, breaking away from Jimin to greet someone else.

You follow his gaze, and your heart skips a beat as you spot Jungkook, striding over with his usual relaxed confidence. He was in a dark shirt with a printed ribcage on it and wore a leather jacket on top and fitting cargo pants, and really large combat boots. Definitely understanding the assignment for the theme. It takes you a second to register that it’s actually him standing there. You instinctively turn to Ash, who has her mouth wide open in shock before breaking into quiet laughter at the absurdity of your luck.

“JK!” Hoseok says warmly, pulling Jungkook into a quick hug.

Jungkook, still oblivious to you, is in mid-conversation with Hoseok when Ash’s laughter finally catches his attention. His eyes shift, first to Ash, and then they land on you. His smile fades, and you can see the disbelief setting in.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you scoff.

“What are the odds?” Jungkook's expression turns equally unimpressed. “This night just went downhill.”

“Believe me, I’m just as thrilled to see you.” you retort, crossing your arms.

Hoseok glances between the two of you, clearly caught off guard. “Wait, you guys know each other?”

Ash covers her mouth, barely containing her amusement. “Oh, they know each other all right.” Although sometimes you and Jungkook took your fights too far, Ash did find quite a bit of entertainment in them.

“Oh you’re Y/N?” Jimin piped up after noticing the draggers you and Jungkook were throwing at each other with your eyes. “This guy hasn’t shut up about you all week. I saw your theatrics yesterday. Really funny.”

Any other time you would have cringed at your public display of hatred but you were too busy focussing on Jungkook standing here. You didn’t notice it until now but he had a lip piercing. You had no idea he had a lip piercing did you? Was it fake? “Wow talking about me to your friends, it seems you really are my biggest fan aren’t you?” You say, disdain in your tone. 

Jungkook’s eyes glint with mischief. “Biggest fan? More like a spectator. Someone has to make sure you don’t take down the whole room with you.”

You scoff, shaking your head. “Please. I think you’re just secretly obsessed with me. It’s kind of pathetic, actually.”

“Hey, okay, how about we reel it in.” Ash throws an arm over your shoulder, wanting to break the tension before it gets too high. You finished off your drink with some annoyance, you were just getting started.

“Yes, how about another round?” Hoseok looks around the group. Ash nods a little too enthusiastically and starts pushing you away. You were giving the death glare to Jungkook until you could no longer see him over your shoulder. Hoseok trailing close behind. 

“She’s cute, I see why you fight with her so often.” Jimin pokes Jungkooks cheek to tease him and jungkook swats his hand away. 

“It’s really not like that.”

“Weren’t you telling me the other day that you guys called a truce at that wedding you went to or something? What happened there?” Jimin folded his arms over his chest. 

“A temporary truce. Back to our normal selves now.” Jungkook pulls out a cigarette and his lighter from his pocket. Lighting up the cigarette and taking a long drag, brushing past the subject. He would find any reason to not have to talk about you anymore. 

“What did you guys do to make it work?” Jimin found his curiosity piqued the more Jungkook tried to push the subject away, Folding his arms over his chest. 

“Why so curious?” Jungkook raises his eyebrow, offering the cigarette to Jimin as a way of distraction.

“Why are you avoiding the question?” Jimin could tell Jungkook now had more to tell than he was letting on. 

“Avoiding what?” Taehyung strolled up the both of them, Jungkook and Jimin had gotten so wrapped up that they forgot they were waiting for him to arrive. Which was the whole reason they had been hanging out here at all.

“Look who finally showed up,” Jungkook says, giving Taehyung a side hug. 

“He’s avoiding my questions about Y/N,” Jimin informs Taehyung, taking another drag from the cigarette before Jungkook snatches it back.

Taehyung let out a breathy laugh, “Jesus, where can you even start with the history between these two.” 

“You just missed a sparkling encounter between them.” Jimin nodded his head inside where you had gone. Taehyung immediately perked up. 

“She’s here? Where?” Taehyung glancing around to see if he can spot you. 

“Oh so you like Y/N?” Jimin asked. 

“Oh she’s awesome.” Taehyung beamed, he really did think highly of you. Jungkook is very obviously peeved by your glowing review from Taehyung. “Oh come on, she's so sweet!”

“Interesting.” Jimin nodded, rubbing his chin. 

“More like rotten inside and out.” Jungkook mumbled, letting his annoyance bubble up. 

Taehyung bumped Jungkook's shoulder with his own, “He’s an unreliable source. She’s never been anything but wonderful to me. Oh, if only she would accept my hand.” Taehyung dramatically sighed a hand on his forehead. 

“Please I’ve never seen you commit to keeping a plant alive, let alone to another person.” Jungkook laughs. 

“True,” Taehyung grinned, knowing full well he'd probably leave with someone by the end of the night, just to add to his reputation. “But she’s gorgeous, and she’s way too good for anyone.”

“Can we please talk about something else?” Jungkook groaned, feeling his skin prickle at the mention of you.

“Oh, she really gets under your skin, huh?” Jimin smirked, clearly enjoying Jungkook’s discomfort. “I’ll have to keep this in mind.” 

“You don’t even know the half of it.” Taehyung rolled his eyes knowingly.

Jungkook tried his best to steer the conversation elsewhere, but Jimin’s interest only seemed to deepen. Jungkook could already tell this topic wouldn’t die easily, especially with Jimin's tendency to dig for juicy details.

As the night wore on the three of them eventually made it back inside and had a handful of drinks of their own. Enjoying the music, and singing along to the songs. So were you, Ash, and Hoseok. You all had basically stayed glued to the dance floor when you were not getting more drinks. Screaming at the top of your lungs and rocking out as hard as you could. Your worry about Jungkook ruining the night had melted away rather quickly with each shot you took. 

With every shot, your confidence and sense of adventure grew. You had a habit of wandering off when you got drunk, and tonight was no exception. Ash had been doing her best to keep an eye on you, fully aware of this tendency. But as soon as she looked away for a moment—just as Hoseok stepped away to grab some waters—you were gone. Pushing her way through the crowded club, Ash searched for you, but you were nowhere to be found. Her concern grew with each passing minute, especially since she was fairly intoxicated herself, making her sense of direction hazy. She quickly texted Hoseok about the situation, and he, too, began weaving through the crowd in search of you.

Ash emerged out of the crowd to eventually bump into Taehyung and Jungkook trying to go out onto the floor.

“Tae?” She looked at him confused but then relieved, “I had no idea you were here.” 

“Hey!” Taehyung slurred his words as he pulled Ash into a hug, “Where have you been all night?”

“On the dance floor!” She grinned, grabbing his and Jungkook’s arms to steady herself. “Hey, have either of you seen Y/N? She tends to... wander after a few drinks, and I can’t find her.”

Jungkook shook his head, “Not since we saw you guys outside.”

“Can you please help me find her?” Ash knew asking for anything from Jungkook when it came to you would be a long shot. 

“Of course we will.” Taehyung nodded his head vigorously and patted Jungkook on the back, “We are on it.”

Ash gives a thankful smile between the both of them, “Thank you, please text me when you find her.” Ash then without another word moves on to continue trying to find you. 

Jungkook groaned, the alcohol making him a little too open with his emotions. “Do I have too?”

“Yes. Be a good friend to Ash and look around.” Taehyung pushed him into the opposite direction of himself, thinking maybe that splitting up would make it easier. 

Jungkook trudged around the edge of the club looking in tables and in darker corners to see if you had gotten scooped up somewhere or were clinging to a wall. He decided you probably also were going to need some water once he found you and you would need a minute to sober up. The water cup he got posed a little bit of a spill threat anywhere he went though. He was pretty tipsy himself but not enough he wouldn’t recognize your annoying face or voice when he spotted it. He was having no luck this way so he decided to move around the dance area to see if maybe you had got swept away with some of the crowd. 

Which Jungooks thought wouldn’t be too wrong. You really had just gotten pulled into the crowd, you hadn’t really noticed Ash had gone missing since you were just enjoying the music. You had sent a few drunk voice messages to Melanie, who you were sure would have some hilarious responses too in the morning. You had become overwhelmed with the amount of people around you and the heat though so you decided to start pushing your way out, which doing while rather tipsy was somewhat difficult. 

You felt yourself tilt a little and bump your head straight into someone’s chest. What you didn’t immediately register was that the front of your top had become completely soaked. Shocking you almost to a sober state from the ice cold water. You immediately felt bad because you may have just accidentally bumped into someone and their drink spilled down on you.

“I’m so sorry.” You throw your hands over your mouth and look up to see the person, finding Jungkook to be on the other end of your apology, “Oh it’s you again!” 

“Shit.” Jungook knew how cold that water probably was. He really did feel bad that it got split but you had come outta nowhere at him.

You scoff and glance down at your now soaked front annoyed. Your wobbly brain not totally thinking straight. “You totally did that on purpose.” Just as you were saying it you swayed a bit. Jungkook notices you losing your balance and steadies you.

“Ash asked me to find you. That water was for you.” He helped move you away from the center of the room and to a less crowded spot.

“Yeah whatever. You wanted to embarrass me right? Cause I embarrassed you in front of your friend Jim.” You slur and start to stumble away from Jungkook. If it weren’t you he may have laughed at the thought of someone calling Jimin Jim instead. 

“Believe it or not. I don’t spare you that much thought.” Jungkook rolled his eyes, but continued to follow you. Making sure you didn’t fall flat on your face, which would have been amusing in his mind. 

Jungkook tried to keep his hands on your shoulders to guide you away but you kept swatting them off of you. “Your voice is so annoying. You’re annoying. Get away from me, annoying boy.” 

“I am actually trying to help you, I’ll have you know.” Jungkook rolled his eyes. You could swat his hands away a thousand times. He was still going to get you back to Ash. 

You sway back and forth, it had started to make you feel a little seasick and you were worried you may actually hurl. “I need to go to the bathroom.” 

With a reluctant sigh Jungkook nods, “I’ll get you there.” 

Jungkook helps to guide you. Blocking anyone else from bumping into you. Getting you to the bathrooms. It was just a hallway with a handful of single person bathrooms. Jungkook manages to get you to one that was open at the end. You stumble your way in but don’t go to hurl you just press your back to the cold tiles. 

The small bathroom felt claustrophobic under the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights, illuminating the scribbles on the walls—snippets of humor and frustration from past patrons. You were acutely aware of the ridiculousness of the situation; the tipsy haze that had wrapped around your mind was starting to lift. The cold splash of water had brought you back to a semblance of sobriety, but not enough to chase away the stubborn annoyance that bubbled beneath the surface.

“This is your fault.�� You glared at Jungkook but then looked down at your shirt. It actually was drying up pretty good. Probably would be dry by the end of the night. 

“Even if I hadn’t done it, you would find a reason to make it my fault.” Jungkook rolled his eyes, leaning his back against the bathroom door. 

You gave him a begrudging smile, tilting your head in fake gratitude. “Well, thank you for ruining my shirt and my night. You’re a real hero.”

He laughed, a bitter laugh. “Fuck off. You’re the one who had too much and worried everyone. Seems like you were the one to really ruin the night.”

“Oh so suddenly you worry about me now?” You roll your eyes, you know he didn’t

“You know what. I’ll be a bigger man. Yeah, you were drunk and alone and one of my friends was concerned about you. So I was too.”  Jungkook leaned away from the door and crossed his arms, sick and tired of having to deal with you this week. 

His words stung, and you couldn’t shake the guilt creeping in. You had really worried Ash and Hoseok, and the weight of that realization pressed down on you. “Fine. Well, mission accomplished; you can leave now.”

“No.” Jungkook shrugged. 

“Excuse me?”

“No, I’m going to walk you back to Ash myself. Doing my job as a good friend to make sure you’re okay. Whether you like it or not.” He widened his stance, as if bracing for a push that he knew wouldn’t come.

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms in defiance. “You don’t even like me, and suddenly you’re so noble. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re just here to be a pain.”

He stepped closer, his voice dropping an octave. “You’re so stubborn. It’s like you’re trying to make this difficult.”

You just leave him in an angry silence now as you continue to clean yourself up. Back still pressed against the tile. You stare at the ground instead of Jungkook standing across from you. Your sober mind would give him brownie points for making sure you were okay even though things are so difficult between the two of you. Your tipsy brain was not thinking critically now. Just wanted to fight since you had become so annoyed from seeing him every single day this week. 

Jungkook couldn’t say he didn’t feel the same. Seeing you everyday had added a certain level of stress and annoyance to each day. It had been building up to a moment the two of you would blow up in each other's faces like this. 

As you tried to move, a wave of dizziness washed over you, forcing you to lean back against the cool tiles for support. A long breath in, then out, hoping this wasn’t a sign that you might actually be sick. Once the feeling passed, you leaned up again, feeling slightly better.

“Are you okay?” Although a bit forced, he thought he should ask.

“A little dizzy still.” You hold your hands over your eyes and scrunch your face up tight for a moment. 

“We really should get you some water.” Jungkook sighed, “One I don’t accidentally spill on you that is.” 

“That would be preferable.” You laugh a little, dropping your hands. 

“Was that a laugh? Did I manage to get you to laugh?” Jungkook's face fell into dramatic shock. “Oh this needs to be documented.”

“Stop. You are being so loud.” You roll your eyes at his exasperation. “You’ll never get a laugh from me again.” 

“As long as it annoys you. I’ll never shut up.” He gives a shit eating grin your directions and you just shake your head. 

“What a gentlemen.”

Jungkook chuckled, crossing his arms as he took a  step closer to you. "Look at that. Now you’re giving me compliments? What’s next, a thank you?"

The defiant look in his eyes only fueled your frustration. "You’re impossible. You don’t even know when to quit, do you?"

"Funny. I was thinking the same thing about you." His voice was quiet now, and though he had not intended too he was looking at you a different way now. It actually made you… nervous?

“Oh, shut up,” you muttered, hating the way your heart was racing from the proximity.

“I’m good.” His voice was almost playful and daring. Challenging you in a way that made it impossible to look away. For the first time tonight you actually looked him in the eyes. He was also looking into yours, Jungkook was still pretty tipsy although he was doing a much better job at keeping himself together.

“I don’t like you.”

“Wow news of the century.” Jungkook gave you a confused look but he was amused.

“Yet somehow in this universe we managed too… well you know. You were there.” You gestured your arm dramatically pointing to him. 

“Did what?” Jungkook played a little innocent now, pushing your buttons. 

“I’m not saying it.”

“No I have no idea what we did,” Jungkook mused, “I have a terrible memory after all.”

“Jungkook,” you sighed, exasperation coloring your voice.

“What?” His grin widened, almost genuine, as if he enjoyed this.

“We managed to fuck. Are you happy?” The words hung between you like a confession, and you hated how flustered you felt afterward.

“Oh, that’s right.” Jungkook closed the distance even more, invading your space, his playful tone now laced with something deeper. “I had a lapse in my memory.”

Heat flooded your cheeks, and you despised how your body was reacting to him. “You’re insufferable,” you shot back, struggling to mask the flutter in your stomach with irritation.

“And yet, here I am, still standing in front of you.” Jungkook’s voice dropped lower, teasingly. You could feel the tension thickening in the small bathroom, and it only added to the growing frustration and confusion bubbling inside you.

“Why do you always have to make everything so complicated?” You snapped, but there was a hint of uncertainty in your voice. “Can’t you just leave me alone for once?”

He shrugged, a smirk tugging at his lips. “If I did that, who is going to help you back?” His words were almost playful, but the weight behind them felt more serious than before.

You gestured between the two of you, your voice rising again. “I think you’re really here to just mess with me.”

“Messing with you is just a bonus,” he countered smoothly. “Because, although you don’t believe it, I’m actually a decent person, I have like a sliver of care for you.”

You scoffed, arms crossed over your chest, but the way he was looking at you, that mix of annoyance and something more, made it hard to keep up your defenses. “You’re just saying that because you feel guilty for spilling water on me.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, taking another step forward, closing the distance even further. “But you’ve had it coming, haven’t you? For all the times you’ve acted like a total brat.”

“Oh please, like you’re any better!” You pushed back, a challenge dancing in your eyes. “You’re an even bigger brat than I am, and you know it.”

“Touche.” He chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that reverberated through the small space, making it hard to stay annoyed. It was a sweet sound, more than you would ever admit out loud.

“And I sometimes think you enjoy fighting me,” you pressed, desperate to maintain the upper hand.

“Full transparency, I don’t.” His tone shifted, just slightly, revealing a flicker of sincerity beneath the teasing.

“Whatever.” you huffed, but you could hear the vulnerability behind his words, and it made you momentarily hesitate.

“It’s true. I have to fight at my job a lot, so I’m not a big fan of it in my personal life.” His admission hung in the air, unexpected and honest. Not something Jungkook ever thought he would say out loud to you of all people.

You paused, considering him for a moment. “I think that’s the first honest thing you’ve said to me.” Your heart raced as the realization settled in—there was more to him than the brash exterior he always showed. Which was annoying, because he was becoming human instead of monster in your mind.

“Probably.” He shrugged, but there was a softness in his gaze now that made you want to look away, even as you felt drawn in.

You both laughed to yourselves then, the sound echoing off the tiled walls, the tension easing just enough to breathe. It was a shared moment, lightening the mood even as it carried the weight of everything unspoken between you.

“Another laugh? Wow, big night for me,” he said, eyes sparkling with mischief. 

“Shut up,” you replied, but the smile lingered on your lips, a reluctant acceptance of the warmth blooming in your chest. 

“Make me,” he challenged, stepping even closer, invading your space in a way that made you take pause.

The space between you had shrunk, and Jungkook  couldn’t remember when that had happened. His heart raced, the alcohol in his system blurring what he usually felt for you with something else entirely. What was worse was that you were also caught up in the same whirlwind of confusion and longing.

The only sound in the room was the muffled music drifting in from outside the door and the uneven rhythm of your breathing, mingling in the charged air around you. This is insane, Jungkook thought, his pulse quickening as he took in the way your eyes glimmered under the harsh bathroom lights.

Your gaze fell to his lips and then shot back to his eyes, so fast it was a fleeting moment, but he noticed. It felt like time had slowed, every heartbeat echoing in the silence between you. Is this really happening? Again? Jungkook couldn’t shake the feeling that everything had shifted, and suddenly, you looked different too—more inviting.

You cleared your throat, breaking the silence, desperate to dispel the thoughts swirling in your mind. Focus. It doesn’t matter. Except it did. Jungkook was looking at you with a hunger you recognized, a look that sent shivers down your spine.

“What?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, thick with tension.

“Nothing.” He looked away, but the moment felt too heavy, too filled with unsaid words.

As soon as Jungkook averted his gaze, he found himself drawn back to you, the magnetic pull almost irresistible. You both stared at each other for a moment, your hearts racing in tandem, minds swirling with the same thoughts. What the hell are we doing? You knew you weren’t sober enough to think this through, yet a huge part of you was screaming… just do it.

“It’s not a good idea.” You say. The words felt forced, almost painful to admit.

“It’s not,” he agreed too quickly, as if the very notion scared him.

“We shouldn’t.” You stood up straighter, your defenses momentarily flaring.

“No.” Jungkook adjusted himself as well, clearing his throat, trying to regain some composure. “And it could be… a problem.”

“We’ve both been drinking. So we are just confused.” You kept your eyes locked onto his, desperate for him to understand every word you were saying, even as your heart raced in contradiction.

“We aren’t thinking straight.”

You looked down, feeling the urge to reach out and touch him clawing at your resolve. Get a grip, you thought, trying to pull yourself back from the edge.

“You repulse me. It’s not what I want.” You said, shaking your head to ground yourself in reality. Right? This is just the alcohol talking. I don’t really want this.

“I can’t stand you.” Jungkook said. Any other hour day or time this was true, except for right now.

You didn’t move, the silence wrapped around the both of you like a fog. You wanted it, you wanted to kiss him. Every second the two of you stood here the closer you were giving in. You wanted to give in so bad. He really was the serpent, and you were going to take the forbidden fruit he offered.

This didn’t feel the same as last time. Last time it was quick and rash. No thought, just an impulsive decision. Now it was like you were making a decision that was going to change everything. 

And yet you couldn’t help it.

“Kiss me.” You look from his eyes to his lips again, lingering longer. 

Jungkook paused. Asking himself if he should do this. Except he answered it for himself, and decided to go slow. He tilted his face to meet yours. Almost like he wanted to wait for you to meet him but he knew you wouldn't. You wanted him to chase after you, to come to you. So he didn’t wait a second longer. Pressing his lips to yours. 

That cigarette taste completely takes you over again. Not as intense as before, it was almost like a hint. Yet you could care less about it, because it was now familiar. You met him with as much need as he gave you. You needed more so you took it a step forward and begged for more. Each kiss was getting more desperate and somehow your hands managed to find their way into his hair. Jungkooks finding their way onto your hips.

One sober thought slapped you in the face, “What are we doing?” You pulled away from him breathless but you paused just looking at him. Then kissing him again, like you needed it to survive.

“We shouldn’t.” Jungkook just soon after, pulling so slightly away but kissing you again.His whole body betraying him.

 One of his hands hiking one of your thighs up around his waist. He pressed his body into yours. You were completely pressed into the wall behind you. 

“We… I,” you pull away again, you have to swallow for a second. You take a moment and are looking between his eyes. Somehow they were all shiny and sparkly in this terribly lit bathroom. He was breathing just as hard as you and his heart pounding even louder. He didn’t make any space between the two of you. “I don’t know what I was going to say.” 

You both felt extremely sober but drunk on this feeling, on this thrill. Completely clear about what was happening. 

“Probably some excuse about how awful I am.” Jungkook kissed along your jaw and down your neck. Your skin was so sensitive and you felt like every time he kissed you, every touch was electric. 

“You are.” You were trying to think of any reason to stop, you came up with nothing. 

“Yeah well, not awful enough that I can't kiss you.” Jungkook leaves a small bite on the skin of your neck, and you let out a small moan. Your eyes widen as soon as you do it and Jungkook is immediately filled with amusement.

“Don’t say a word.” 

“Don’t worry. I don’t feel like talking.” He pulled himself away from your neck and kissed you again, slipping his tongue into your mouth. He had you wrapped up in him all over again.

You thought the lip piercing would get in your way but it actually went unnoticed. Your hands found their way to either side of his face. If anyone was becoming addicted, it was you. Kissing him was like sipping poison from a decorated chalice, beautiful to view but bitter for the soul. Yet, you couldn’t get enough. 

It was painfully clear how turned on Jungkook was getting. With your leg that was wrapped around his waist, you use your leverage to push him into you. The pressure breaks him out of the kiss a bit, moaning himself. You smiled devilishly, his eyes were shut. You pull him closer, you take the chance to kiss down his neck. Sucking a little on each spot. He leaned into your touch. Enjoying each one. 

“We-… oh god.” He placed one of his hands on the wall steadying himself. “We should get out of here.” 

“Why?” You say and you kiss him again. He pulls away for a second breathing hard again. 

“As great as bar bathroom sex is,” he was being sarcastic, “I prefer a bed.” 

“Good point.” You pull away for a second. Wiping your mouth. You let the tiles hold you up again. Glancing over to the mirror, whatever lipstick you had on had completely transferred to Jungkook. You look at him and you wipe off any smudges you can see. Jungkook didn’t protest the action. Something almost domestic about it. 

Gross, he thought.

You watched his movements. He pushed his hair back, eyes closed for a second. His lack of contact now felt strange. You kept looking at his hands, how delicate his fingers were. You want them inside you. You wanted them on you. You needed him wrapped around you. You shook your head, you needed to get out of here. 

What the hell were you doing? 

You stepped around Jungkook. Before you could open the door Jungkook spun you around again, back against the door now. His hands on your cheeks. He kissed you again and you welcomed him without issue. Warmth invoked you all over again and it was almost like you could have let your whole body go slack. You couldn’t get enough, and it was clear he couldn’t either. It felt very easy and you didn’t hate it. 

“Jungkook.” You break away but he kisses you, you pull back again. “Let’s go.” 

“You’re right.” He breaks away from you and he forces himself to take the largest step back he can from you. 

You flatten your hair down, then you open the bathroom door and slip out. Luckily no one was in the hall. You assume Jungkook was going to wait a moment before following you so it didn’t appear that the two of you were in there together. There was no way you would be able to leave without saying goodbye to Ash or Hoseok, so you needed to find them first. You couldn’t even hear the music with how loud your heart was pounding in your ears.

After a minute of searching you found them both tucked in a corner looking at their phones. Probably texting you or three seconds away from calling the police. You cringed and approached them. 

Ash looked up and her eyes widened at the sight of you. “Jesus christ where have you been?”

“I’m so so sorry.” You hug her and then hug Hoseok. “I got swept away by the people and then I just needed to sit in the bathroom for a while. I was so dizzy.” Not a total lie but still bullshit not the less.

“Text next time okay?” Hoseok gripped your shoulder hard and gave you a small shake. You nod in return. 

“I promise. I will. I will never let that happen again. I do think I just need to go home. I’ve had a little too much tonight.” You nod. 

“Do you need one of us to come with you?” Ash face twisted in concern but you give her a reassuring smile so she won’t press further. 

“No I live so close and I will text you as soon as I get there.” You nod. 

It takes a little more convincing but the two of them let you go with some goodbyes. Once you break away from them you try to see if you can spot Jungkook maybe hovering close by or something. You don’t immediately find him but you decide if you leave he will have to come out the same way. You find your way to the exit and make it outside. You realize this meeting up thing would have been easier if you had Jungkook's number, but alas here you were. Just waiting and hoping he wouldn’t make a fool out of you.

After a minute of waiting on the street and watching people pass you by, Jungkook emerged from the door.

“So you didn’t run away.” He teased, you roll your eyes. Hugging your arms to protect from the cold. 

“Nights not over. Still plenty of time to get away.” Was this all a bad idea? 

“So…” he looked around, probably to see if anyone you knew was around. “Mine or yours?” 

Jungkook could care less where you went but he just want to go now. 

You hadn’t actually considered it. You weren’t sure if you wanted him in your place. You didn’t really bring people back home. You always went to theirs, made it easier to detach and never talk again. Jungkook was different, there was no detachment that could be done so easily here. 

“Yours.” You say. Stick to the normal routine. 

“Okay.” He didn’t protest.

Jungkook calls a car and it doesn’t take very long to pick you guys up. You both are quiet the whole ride. Jungkook didn’t live terribly far so it made it quick. Too quick, too quick for you to talk yourself out of going. The moment in the bathroom kept replaying in your mind. How you got from point A to B.

 It was like one second you two were magnets that were pushing each other apart and then the next you were desperately trying to stay stuck together. When it used to be you would push each other apart. 

After too long you arrived. Jungkook let the both of you inside and then you were going up the elevator. Still nothing, you had no idea what he was thinking. No idea if maybe he also was regretting his choice. He didn’t look like he had anything to say to you, which to be fair, he never did. You followed him down a hall a ways and he unlocked his apartment. 

Once you had made it inside Jungkook flicked on his lights. It was actually quite spacious. Everything was really clean and he had good taste in decoration. It had a large living room and a separated kitchen. There was a hall that connected off the living room that probably led to his room.

Jungkook tugged off his shoes and you followed, taking off yours. 

He stepped inside but you almost stayed glued. The mental roadblock had finally hit. Jungkook noticed and looked back at you. 

“Cat got your tongue?” He observed you for a moment, you clenched your fists out of comfort. 

“Something like that.” You sigh, you don’t look at him, “Your place is… nice.” 

“Then why aren’t you coming in?” He leaned on the wall next to him. “Do I have to invite you in, like a vampire?” 

“Haha, very funny.” Your voice dripped with sarcasm, “More like I’m talking myself into it.” 

“I see. We’ll, doors right there, feel free to run.” He saunters back over to you, pointing to the door behind you. “Can get out now while you still can.” 

He came as close as he felt you were comfortable with. There was that feeling all over again, like everything in you was pulling you towards him. 

“Not a word to anyone?” You clear your throat. 

“Deal.” 

With that you pull him into you and you kiss him. One of his hands on the back of your neck and the other on your waist. Both of you walking backwards into the apartment. Each kiss was more and more urgent. Jungkook managed to spin the both of you around and was walking you back to his bedroom. Your hands found their way to get his jacket off and pulling his shirt over his head. He broke away from you to pull it off. Immediately kissing you again once he discarded it. Your hands wrapped around him, his warm skin welcoming the touch of your hands.

You both split again to get you out of your clothes until you were just in your underwear and bra. With your frenzied movements you have somehow made it into his room.  

Jungkook pulled away, then got his hands under your thighs and quickly laid you back on his bed. You yelped a little at the sudden movement. Jungkook was immediately on top of you again, placing himself between your legs most of his weight on you, he kissed you again. You felt like you hadn’t had a breath in several minutes. 

He paused for a moment though and leaned back a little, he just stared. . 

“Let me take this off.” He looked at your bra. 

“Okay.” You sat up on your elbows. “Why?” 

“I didn’t get to see them last time. I want to see all of you.” He looked down to the rest of you for a moment but then back to your eyes. 

“You really are obsessed with me huh?” You were the one desperate to have him closer. 

“Just for tonight. Tomorrow I’ll go back to not being able to stand you.” He finally gives in and start to suck on your neck, using one of his hands to keep your head in place. 

A quiet moan leaves you at the feeling. He had already had you figured out. Where you tick. He didn’t stay there long, he pulled himself away enough to get his hand under you to undo your bra. Pulling it down your arms and throwing it somewhere in the room. You lay back down flat on your back. Jungkook took no time to get his hands on your breasts. Holding them in his hands and massaging them. He leans his head down and takes one of your nipples into his mouth and continues to massage your other breast. You just watched him, you a little bit into the sight of him being all over you. He swirls his tongue around your nipple. You felt yourself getting wetter. You had moved your hips to find some pressure, you were dying to be touched.

“Jungkook.” It came out sort of whiny and strained. You mentally pounded yourself for how desperate you sounded. 

He pulled away from you. He also looked surprised. 

“Needy are we?” He had an amused smile, he held all the cards.. “What do you want?” 

“Just touch me. Please.” God you were pathetic. This was a new low. You needed it bad though, you want to cum whatever way he wanted you too. 

“Oh how the mighty have fallen,” he was very amused by the sight of you begging. He would have loved to see more of it if he didn’t really want to eat you out. 

Then Jungkook took the moment to take off his pants. He looked as if he was going to take off his underwear as well but then hesitated. 

He hovers above you again, Jungkook thought for a moment. Something that could work you up. Something maybe a little surprising even for himself to admit, “One more honest confession from me. You looked really good tonight.”

“What?” You were stunned, he sounded extremely sincere. 

“I have never met someone who gets on my actual last nerve.” He shook his head, “but I wanted to fuck you again so badly, didn’t matter how much you bothered me.” 

You didn’t realize words could turn on you on so much, but it was working. Let alone coming from Jungkook, 

“What did you think about?” Curiosity was getting the better of you.

“How I really want to eat you out, I wanted to make you cum on my tongue.” He moved back over you, kissing you and breaking away. “Plus I wanted to see your tits and they did not disappoint.” 

Jungkook hoping in his mind this was working. He wasn’t out of practice but you really were the only person he had slept with in a while, and the fact that he didn’t know how you worked made him a little nervous. What he didn’t quite understand is that it didn’t take much to work you up. 

“What else?” You wanted to close your legs, you needed some relief between your legs but Jungkook wasn’t going to let that happen. 

“I could have fucked you in the bathroom, no I would have fucked you in the bathroom. If you had kissed me any longer I would have.” He came very close to your ear. You closed your eyes, just listening to him. 

You swallow hard and nod. You wanted to play it much cooler than you had been. “I don’t see why I should care at all about that.” You start to chew on your bottom lip. 

“I keeping wondering how many times I could make you cum. How many times I could make you fall apart, with my hands, with my tongue, and my cock.” 

Yeah you were getting so high just on his words. 

“God please Jungkook,” you had enough though, “Please touch me, please just do something.”

 “Thank god.” He also couldn’t take it anymore. 

He kissed you but it was so quick because he kissed his way down your neck and then your chest and then your stomach. He started sliding off your underwear and you don’t resist him at all. It was painfully clear how wet you were, Jungkook was tired of not being all over you though. He examines you for a moment and then licks over your clit without much warning. You moan apprehensively. Your words were completely lost. 

Jungkook did it again a few more times. He wrapped his hands around your legs keeping them apart. You wanted to squeeze his head between your thigh so badly but you couldn’t budge under his grip. You placed your hands on his head. Jungkook licks your clit in a side to side motion. He had you in the palm of his hand now. He knew it. You were going to come quickly at this rate, he had gotten you so wound up. You grip onto his hair at the sensation, Jungkook then pulls back from to stick his tongue into your pussy. Immediately licking all of the arousal that been coming out of you. He kept moving his tongue in and out of you over and over. So warm and he found his way around you quickly.

“Fuck.” You said it long and dragged out as Jungkook continued fuck you with his tongue. “Don’t stop.”

He hums against you in response, he wasn’t going to give you any second of recovery. He wanted you to cum in his mouth, and he was going to take you to the end. Jungkook let go of his grip on your legs, allowing you close your thighs around him. You were getting close. You were a little impressed and so was he. You were starting to twitch a little with each touch. Moans just kept falling from you pathetically, you just didn’t care. Your hips began moving on his mouth subconsciously. He followed your lead. He loved every second of this. 

You managed to get yourself to look down at him to watch what he was doing, to your surprise he was already watching you. Mouth buried between your legs. His eyebrows furrowed, his stare so serious and full of lust. He was eating up every second watching you fall apart. 

“Shit.” You lay your head back, “Don’t look at me like that.” 

He paused for a second but spitting on your clit and taking his hand there to rub you. 

“Why not?” He hummed. 

“It’s… confusing.” It was confusing, you still hated him but that look. Your feelings of hate and lust we’re mixing dangerously together, 

“You’re just… so hot when you are about to cum.” He replaced his hand with his mouth again. He needed to make you cum. 

“Shut up.” You moan, as he presses his tongue flat into your clit, putting pressure on it and licking upwards. Then sticking his tongue back inside you.

You didn’t have time to think. Before you could get anything else out you felt your climax hit you like a truck, you twitch and tried pulling away from Jungkook but he held onto you pumping his tongue in and out of you as your walls tried to clench around his tongue. Your cum spilling into Jungkook's mouth. He kept a tight grip on your thighs and just continued his motions as you rode out your climax. 

After a minute you settled. You were breathing heavily and your eyes shut. Jungkook pulled himself away. It was really unfortunate how much he liked how you tasted. Jungkook took one of your hands and pulled you up so you were sitting up. You opened your eyes and looked at him but before anything he kissed you. Sort of tender at first, then his tongue was in your mouth. There was a new taste present, it wasn’t bad at all. It was definitely your cum. It was nice, maybe way too intimate for the two of you but you didn’t mind. He cupped your face in his hand. 

“It’s really annoying how good you taste.” He kissed down your neck to your shoulder. They were delicate little kisses. You were trying to come back down. After all it was a pretty good orgasm.

“I would say do that again but I don’t think I’ll stay awake after.” You lean your head to the side, giving him better access. “God this sucks.”  

“What did I do now?” He pulls back and looks at you unamused. 

“Because you are the most obnoxious person ever but this makes it much harder to hate you.” 

“I think it makes it more fun if you hate me.” He kisses you, you slide your tongue into his mouth and sigh comfortably.

You both were getting really impatient though. You really wanted to ride him. You needed to be fucked so you could be done with this so you didn’t have to admit you wanted him to eat you out again and again. Jungkook needed to come soon though, he was so hard in his boxers he was afraid he might explode. He had any number of ways he wanted you but didn’t care what you wanted to do to him. 

You pull back from him, “Let me touch you.” 

“Don’t say it like that.” he drops his head, resting it on your shoulder. 

“Why?” You were having the exact effect you wanted. He lifts his head and looks at you. 

“Like you said, it gets… confusing.” 

You smirk and you stand up with him for a moment but then you turn him and have him sit on the side of the bed now. He takes off his underwear almost like understanding your thoughts. He was really hard and his tip was all red. He didn’t take his eyes off your hands and just watched you every movement. 

You hold his chin in your hand and have him look up at you. He almost looked a little pouty and pathetic, almost cute. He placed his hands onto your hips but let’s you take the lead. You then take both of your legs and you straddle his lap, his dick sitting between the both of you. He took in a deep breath from the contact. 

“I guess I could just leave.” You tease, you kiss one side of his neck. “I got what I needed. Could just leave you to yourself. Since it’s so confusing for the both of us.” You tease. 

Jungkook had closed his eyes and was shaking his head. In almost painful desperation. “Don’t.” His hands moved to your ass, hanging on to you now. “Seriously, please touch me. I won’t last much longer.” 

“What would you like?” You hold yourself away from him so you can see his face clearly.

“Sit on me.” He chased your lips and kissed you again. 

You continue to kiss him but you sit up on your knees. Reaching between the both of you to grab his dick. You stroke him a few times. He groans into your mouth from the contact, his tip was leaking precum. You stop for a second. 

“Do you have a condom?” 

Jungkook nodded, he reached over to a drawer next to his bed and pulled one out. You take it from him, unwrapped it. Using both of your hands and slowly roll it over his length, squeezing him on the way down. 

“Fuck.” His head falls back. He squeezed your ass in one of his hands.

You then lift yourself up again and line him up with your entrance. You knew you were going to be pretty sensitive so you just sink down just onto his tip. You were a bit overstimulated so you hiss, but you kept going sliding yourself down his length. Jungkook was letting small moans fall from his mouth. Then you fully sit down on him, filling you completely up. You moan a little yourself at the feeling. Jungkook was in complete ecstasy. You lift yourself up and sink back down onto him again. You both moan into each other. 

“Lay back.” You whisper in his ear, “It’ll be easier.”

Jungkooks complys, you push him down with one of your hands. This way you are able to get your knees on the bed a little better, and it allows you to get more leverage.  So you push yourself up and down in a quicker motion now. You keep your hands on his chest. With each move of your hips you begin to build a rhythm, your clit grazing his pelvic bone every time you fully sink down onto him.

“God I hate how good this feels.” You groan but out of pleasure. You mouth falling open. 

He’s smirking below you, breathing heavily. Barely keeping his eyes open. Feeling every little movement you made. Why did it have to feel with you of all people? Let alone really good. You full sit down on him for a moment taking a second to breath, his cock buried all the way inside you. You grind your hips on him, you were trying to find your high again. 

“Shit. Don’t stop.” Jungkook pleaded, he looked down to where his cock was inside you. Loving the way your bodies were connected. 

“Oh yeah?” Lifting yourself up and sank back down onto him again and grinding on him again.

“God I fucking hate how good you look right now.” He sounded so annoyed but it was getting you hot. 

“Stop.” You sigh, you pause for a second. Your knees needing a second to recover. 

“What?” He eyes you for a moment.

“Stop talking.” You breath for a second, you were going to come soon. You could feel it, your wall were throbbing and you were breathing so heavily. You didn’t want him to be able to get you off so easily. 

Jungkook on the other hand seemed somewhat concerned, worried you may be in pain. “Is something wrong?” He sat up to meet your face. 

“Nope.” You almost cut him off holding a hand up to him, “I’m just really close.” 

“Oh yeah?” He lets out a breathy laugh and it caused his pelvis to shift under you and you moan softly. 

“Oh I see,” Jungkook reached his hands around to your ass. Hanging on to your hips for a moment. Forcing you up and down on him and a pathetic whine falls from you. “You want to cum again huh?” His voice was quiet and deep.

“No.” The word came out weak, It was a sad protest, very clearly a lie.

“Getting yourself all wrapped around my dick making you want to cum?” He kisses your jaw, you had yours eyes screwed shut. You managed to look at him through your tired hooded eyes.

“Yes.” You give in. Jungkook forced your hips up and down on him again and another whine falls from your mouth. 

“What can I do?” Jungkook sighs. 

“Keep talking to me, and I’ll keep fucking you.” You try to feel yourself back in, shutting your eyes again. You did not want to see his face. 

“You got it.” 

You go back slowly working up to the pace you were at before. Every once and a while sinking all the way down and grinding your hips on him. Jungkook breathing heavily, steadies his mind for a second. 

“You’re doing so good for me. Fucking my cock like this. God you look so sexy like that.” His hands were running up and down your back. “Hating me comes with some perks right?” 

“Fuck off.” You moan, you kept riding him though. Oh it was working, your high was building. You weren’t sure how long Jungkook had left in him. 

“If I had known a truce could lead to this I would have offered one sooner.” He forces you down onto himself for a moment and you gasp. “Cause now I can’t stop thinking what it would be like to see you suck me off and come in your mouth.” 

Jungkook would never get to see it but he was definitely thinking about it now. So were you, what it would be like to suck him until he came? Making him wriggle above you, forcing your mouth all the way onto him. 

“I’m gonna-…” you stutter, you keep your pace but you feel it coming. 

“Cum?” Jungkook fills in the blank, “Cum for me, brat.” He took the small moment to tease you.

“God shut up.” You go a little faster and before you can get anything else out, you’re cumming all over again. And Jungkook stopped you, forcing all the way down on his cock. You bite into his shoulder. Completely losing yourself. Your walls were fighting against being filled up by him. Squeezing him over and over. This one was a little quicker than the one earlier. You could feel some of your cum leaking down into his lap. 

You try to move again but it’s so sensitive you stop again. 

“Just give me a second.” You breathe, placing both your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself. Jungkook had no issue waiting. 

“No worries, you’re a pretty good cock warmer anyways.” He jokes, you push him back down into the bed away from you. You just sit for a second. 

“God you’re annoying.” You push past the sensitivity and start riding Jungkook again. Going as quick as you can. You needed him to cum now. 

Jungkook let you. He let you fuck him. He was completely taken by the feeling. He was actually much closer than you thought because before long he pushed his hips up into you. You keep fucking him, pumping his dick for everything he has, you can feel him fill up the condom in you. Once he seems to be coming down you come to a slow stop. 

You both were spent.

You got yourself off of him. Sitting on the bed next to him for a second. Just breathing, your legs were shaking from the fatigue of the position you were in. You had to force yourself up though, Jungkook had his bathroom connected to his room. So you darted for it. Not saying a word, locking yourself inside. Jungkook watched you go for a moment but then got himself up to clean himself up. 

You take care of what you need too. You didn’t hear Jungkook moving around outside of the bathroom at all. You open the door sort of wishing you had brought your clothes in with you so you could redress. You step out of the bathroom and Jungkook was putting a new pair of boxers on. Then grabbing a shirt and putting it on, he then crashed out onto his bed. You understood the feeling. You tip toed in into the room putting your underwear on.

You had slept with Jungkook again…

You found your shirt and threw it on. Turning around and seeing Jungkook on the bed. He noticed you starting to redress yourself and managed to grab his phone looking at the time. It would have been way too late for you to get a ride home.

“What are you doing?” He asks. 

“What does it look like? I’m leaving.” You walk around and manage to find more of your things. Grabbing your pants with the intention to put them on but getting stopped.

“Why? It’s going to be too late to get a ride.” 

“Because this was just a hookup and I should go home.” You point between the two of you. You pull your phone out to see the time. God it was so late.

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s like 2 am, just… stay.” He waves his hand to the spot next to him. 

You hesitate at the offer. “No no no,” you almost laugh. “That’s not… no.” 

“Y/N…” he looks at you seriously, very tired, but serious. “Stay.”

For a brief moment you thought about protesting. About fighting him on it but the more you stood the more your exhaustion was hitting you. The bed was tempting and it would be easier just to stay. 

So, you lay yourself down. Jungkook then pulls the covers over you. Moving and making as much space in the bed he can for you. You stayed glued to your side with your back to him, and his back turned to you as well. It didn’t take much for either of you to pass out soon after.

Just for tonight. 

You woke up to sunlight hitting your face—a surprising sensation since your room never caught the morning sun. Disoriented, you blinked against the brightness, and the events of last night came rushing back, crashing into you like a tidal wave. Your eyes shot open, heart pounding as you glanced around the unfamiliar room. Panic set in, and you bolted upright.

“Oh my god…” You whispered, feeling the dread seep into your bones. You looked to a still sleeping Jungkook beside you; the bed was a mess of tangled sheets. You threw the covers off discreetly and quickly realized that, yes, you were right—you hadn’t put your pants back on. The sight of your bare legs only confirmed the mess you’d gotten yourself into.

“No, no, no...” You buried your face into your hands. Not again. You wanted to blame it on drinking, but you were sober enough to make this decision and so was he.

Your head throbbed, partly from the brewing headache and partly from the sheer disbelief at your own actions. Jungkook began to stir next to you with a groan. He flipped over so he was facing you. He opened his eyes for a brief moment and looked at you and closed them again. 

But then Jungkook took a moment to realize, yes you were in fact in his bed, so his eyes shot open and he pushed himself up with horror written on his face.

“Awe crap...”

。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭

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[kissylec]

BROKEN RIBBONS & PERFECT FISTS — rafe cameron, 05

pairing . . . boxer!rafe cameron x ballerina!reader in which . . . a clean slate is what you needed, to get away from a past you're not proud of and start over, focusing on what you were most passionate about, ballet. outer banks seemed like the best option, a breath of fresh air, new people. what you didn’t expect was that someone just as broken as you would stand in your way, staking your heart on a single name— rafe cameron. ch warning .ᐟ . . . none

masterlist .ᐟ 𝜗𝜚 navigation .ᐟ

BROKEN RIBBONS & PERFECT FISTS. — 04 . 05 . 06

YOUR HEART WAS IN YOUR THROAT IF THAT was even possible. When the words— We're having dinner with my family, to introduce you and all— came out of Sarah's mouth, you felt your legs go weak instantly. And now, as you sat in front of Ward's judging gaze, you couldn't even feel them. The sound of cutlery clanging against expensive-looking plates was the only thing you could hear in the room, and that made you even more nervous.

"Honey... Rafe...?" you heard Ward's raspy voice, who looks up so he could look at her, asking Sarah.

Sarah swallows the piece of food from her mouth, bringing her gaze to her dad's. "He told me he was leaving Alicia's house" she answers.

Ward lets out a sigh that seemed held back for years, his gaze going to you. "So your name's... Y/n, right?" he asks, there was now a smile that seemed foreign to his face.

You look at him, trying to imitate his smile. "That's right" you answer, not even thinking about moving without him stopping looking at you.

There's something about this man which gives you a sense of fear. Your hairs stand up when he looks at you, feeling that if you move, you'd be making the biggest mistake of your life.

Ward lets out a laugh from deep within his chest. "Don't be nervous, we don't bite."

That comment made your stomach turn, but you smiled nonetheless.

"Sure, sorry," you apologize, your gaze dropping to your plate briefly.

A sound of keys interrupts the atmosphere, all heads turning to the door when it opens. Your lips part when you see who walks through the door, a feeling of nervousness settles in your stomach, you feel your cheeks warming up a little.

What's happening to you?

"Kinda late, don't you think Rafe?" Ward speaks, and you hear a heavy sigh.

Rafe. This is Rafe.

This is Rafe?

"Time's passed" you heard his voice, your stomach feeling more and more upset. "I'm not hungry, I have to shower."

And there you lost it. Rude much.

You feel the tension in the air, the smile Ward had on his face totally gone, replaced with a frown.

"You're not even going to say anything to our guest?" Ward speaks again, and Rafe sighs again.

His blue eyes meet yours, a shiver running through you from head to toe.

“Hi” his voice sounds tired, almost annoyed.

You swallow hard. “Hi” you say back.

With nothing else to say, Rafe turns around in place, heading for the stairs and climbing them in a hurry. A sigh can be heard leaving Sarah’s mouth.

“Sorry about that” she apologizes quietly.

You shake your head, a smile on your face. “Don’t worry about it.”

kissylec says . . . heres another chapterrr, love you guys

taglist . . . @cokewithcameron @rafeysbabydoll @imtalkinnonsense @drewstarkeyslover @slut-4-gojo @tequilawithissues @beebuv @lili-swagalicious @mysticbby2009 @justdamnpeachy @luvrclub @malibuhearts @bee-43 @yktayy9669 @babyclines @m4tthewmurd0ck @femmeinomenon @kissesandmartinis @faephoria @marinrscomplex @icaqttt @landososcar @jamesbeaufortismylife @angelicameron @ihydeja @pogueprincesa @imahotgirlrichgirl

© KISSYLEC. 2025 — please do not plagiarize, repost, translate or claim any of my work as your own.

[rika-mmendmethings]

Against Blood & Water l Sylus

Chapter 4

Ch 3 | Chapter 5 next Wednesday

Summary: Seventeen years ago, your life had taken a turn for the worse when your newborn twins were separated from you by a cruel twist of fate. The same fate had led you to the N109 Zone, to your children who were all grown up now. Reconciliation with your boys would've been slightly easier had they somehow not acquired a father figure over the years who wasn't letting them go anytime soon.

Warning(s): Subject to change as we progress further into the story. For this chapter: mentions of guns, stalking and drugs/drug dealings, first meeting with the devil himself

Word count: 2.9k

Playlist coming soon.

Notes: A long chapter as a compensation for lost time ;) Did you notice the parallels between Elysium's menu in the last chapter and this chapter? This story is for the Sylus girlies' who consider Luke and Kieran their babies. A little information on the timeline: in this story, the reader is 35 with Luke and Kieran being 17. Sylus never felt like 28 to me, so he's a hot-ass 39-year-old man (bear with me). The timeline is a bit confusing, I know, but soon it'll be cleared, too. If you have any more questions, feel free to ask me, and I'll try my best to give you a proper answer without revealing too much. Let me know if you wish to be added to the tag list for this series. ♥

Tag list: @babyx91 @pillarofsnow @beyond-the-stars-fairy @yuki-sama6 @sylviewrites @idiashusband @sadmonke @monophobix @lunarvolley @stxrrielle @fries11 @gremlinartstudio @lillycore @novthirty @animegamerfox @cathedralofaudra @nm4565natty @69-gojos-wife-69 @eolivy @namjoons-toenails @silverianni @nezuswritingdesk @beaconsxd @justpassingdontworry @ruyaya @browneyedgirl22 @rafayelridesfisheatsfish @sneakysnakeysstuff @midiplier @colonelcalebs-pipsqueak @dana-nite @lazeriii @into-deepspace @nommingonfood @eden-axe @verysleepylilguy @lunia-likes-pomegranet @do-clouds-smoke-weed @sowntears @batgirliee @slovesyouuu @blythered @rievendell @larailorelei @owodi @eden-axe @some-gurl-idk @sarah22447 @belles-reads @kanjiharitama @astvriisk

You cursed inwardly at the absence of a peephole as you pressed yourself flat against the door. Gun raised in your dominant hand, you reached for the doorknob with the other, turning it with excruciating care. Then, without further hesitation, you yanked the door open, heedless of the risk — after all, you were armed. That should be enough.

Standing before you was a short, elderly man, adjusting his glasses as he squinted at a crumpled sheet of paper. At the sound of the door opening, he looked up and scratched his head. “Is this apartment number 404?” he asked, entirely unfazed by the weapon in your hand. Perhaps he was just another product of life in the N109 Zone, where paranoia and firearms were part of the décor.

You felt your heart trying to recover from the brink of cardiac arrest — all for this?

“This building only has three floors, mister,” you deadpanned, rubbing your temples in mild irritation.

He chuckled gleefully, apparently amused by his own mistake. “Oh, dear gods! My bad, young lady. Enjoy your evening,” he said with a carefree wave.

You forced a polite smile and shut the door before he’d even turned away. Shaking your head in disbelief, you set your gun down on the table and wandered back into the dimly lit living room. Collapsing onto the couch, you picked up the mechanical bird that had been silently observing you. Its eyes remained vacant, yet the long-range tracker beneath its talon blinked persistently in red.

You tried to scratch the tracker off to no avail. Frustrated, you fetched a fork and prepared to pry it out manually — but were halted mid-movement by the bird’s sudden, piercing cries of distress.

You sighed, rolling your eyes as you set the crow down beside you, your gaze drifting absently into the distance. You could feel the bird’s curious eyes fixed on you, and with a shrug, you turned your attention back to it.

“What?” you muttered. “Your creator probably embedded ten more trackers somewhere inside you. It's not like I’ll be able to find them all before my location gets compromised, so I’ll leave you be, birdie.”

The mechanical crow tilted its head and gave a subtle nod, as though it comprehended your reasoning — and agreed. It then began preening its artificial feathers with a calm efficiency that almost made you forget it was just a machine.

You studied it for a while, unable to suppress a flicker of admiration for the intricate craftsmanship. On impulse, you scooped the crow back into your hands, turning it over to inspect the fine detailing etched into its metallic body, ignoring the irritable caws it let out in protest. It fluttered in a futile attempt to escape, but its damaged wing kept it grounded.

A pang of guilt shot through you.

With a sigh, you stood and retrieved a pair of pliers. Holding them up, you addressed the bird, “I’ll try to fix your bent wing, if you’re willing.”

You were offering it the chance to back away — to refuse the aid of your untrained hands. But your lips curled faintly when the crow hopped forward, climbing onto your lap and settling with its wings spread out in quiet submission.

Carefully, you worked on its mangled wing, using the pliers to straighten the deformed metal feathers — casualties of the bullet that had nearly torn the wing off. When you were done, you gently set it down and gave it space.

With hesitant beats of its wings, the crow lifted into the air, wobbly and a bit unsteady, yes — but it was flying again. You watched with a quiet sense of pride, half-expecting it to head straight for the nearest exit.

Instead, it circled once, then landed beside your hand, staring up at you.

You raised a brow, amusement flickering in your eyes. “What? Not planning to report back to your master?” you teased, stroking a finger gently down its smooth, cold head. “Or maybe you’re sticking around to spy a little longer — just in case I spill something useful?”

The bird offered no response, no artificial chirps or movements. It simply settled beside you, tucking its wings neatly beneath its frame.

You exhaled, raking a hand through your hair as sleep overtook your senses, your body succumbing to the land of dreams.

The next morning, you woke with a well-devised plan already playing out in your mind as you freshened up for the day. It was simple, really: you'd visit a run-down bar named ‘Gemini’ where a man named Herald was waiting. He had promised to provide insider information on the drug lord’s upcoming deal locations — for a modest bribe, of course.

You were just about to head out when a familiar pair of glowing red eyes blinked up at you mid-popsicle bite. With a resigned sigh, you realized you couldn't risk leaving your most valuable lead unattended in the apartment.

You rummaged through the storeroom, still cluttered with leftover construction materials, until you unearthed an old rope. Returning to the living room, you grabbed the mechanical crow in one swift motion, ignoring its caws of protest. You secured the rope around its head and beneath its wings, fashioning a makeshift leash. A quick tug on your end confirmed it was neither too tight nor too loose — just enough to keep it in check.

The bird glared at you with unmistakable indignation, its metal feathers puffed out in defiance as it hopped into your path. You shot it a sharp look and warned coldly, “Get in my way again, and I’ll stomp on you so hard, even your synthetic feathers won’t know which direction to fall in.”

The mechanical crow appeared to understand the threat — albeit reluctantly — and, still a bit pissed, settled by your side as you locked the door behind you.

You made your way down the streets to the bar, the mechanical crow hopping ahead of you. You almost felt as if you were taking your pet crow for a walk — almost. Considering the bird was more of a hostage than a companion, and the aged rope barely qualified as a leash, the comparison felt far from accurate.

You made it to the club with a side-eye or two on the streets and searched for the burly man as soon as you entered. The interior was only sparsely crowded, making it easy to spot your contact. You took a seat across from Herald, carefully concealing your mechanical stalker beneath the table, its leash (rope?) still securely gripped in your left hand.

You handed over the promised payment, listening intently as Herald detailed the timing of the shifts between dealing locations. In a few moments, he passed you a hastily drawn map of the N109 Zone, the dealing routes marked with crude arrows and highlighted dots. You tucked the map into the pocket of your blazer as he left, and then made your way to the terrace of the ten-story building, a half-finished vegetable skewer in one hand and the rope (leash?) of your little stalker in the other.

Standing on the terrace, you gripped the cool metal railing, your fingers curled around it for balance. Your feet were perched on the narrow concrete lip running along the base of the railing, just elevated enough to allow you to lean forward slightly. The height gave you a better vantage of the ground below, though you found your mind wandering to the thought of what it would be like if you fell. You took a big bite of the vegetable around the skewer, concluding that you’d live but the injuries you’d face would be fatal. 

As you absentmindedly took another bite from the skewer, your gaze flicked toward the bar below. A customer had just entered, and you couldn't help but notice that the doors weren’t the traditional wooden kind. Instead, two tall, sturdy mirrors stood in place, perfectly aligned, each reflecting the other. The corners of the mirrors were adorned with delicate silver filigree, now chipped but still beautiful.

Twin mirrors facing each other…hm.

You took the final bite of your skewer, a strange sense of familiarity tugging at the edge of your thoughts. You couldn’t place it — but before you could dwell on it further, the mechanical crow began flapping its wings in a frenzy, thrashing and twisting as if desperate to escape the rope looped around its neck.

Startled, you tossed the skewer aside and hastily dusted off your hand, tightening your grip on the rope. But it was too late. With one final violent jerk, the bird slipped free, its tarnished wings catching the dim light as it soared to the adjacent railing and disappeared into the shadows.

Left with no other choice, you drew your gun from the holster beneath your blazer and aimed at the faint glint of crimson in the darkness. You muttered a curse under your breath — damn the N109 Zone and its perpetual gloom, even at eleven in the morning. You couldn’t risk letting that bird escape. You shifted your aim slightly, targeting the wing, intent on mangling the metal just enough to ground it.

You pulled the trigger.

But the recoil caught you off guard. A sharp, startled scream tore from your throat as the force knocked you off balance. Your feet slipped from the narrow ledge, and in one fluid, horrifying motion, your body tipped over the railing. You plummeted, arms flailing, the wind shrieking past your ears as terror clawed its way up your spine. Ten stories down. This was your end.

Then — everything stopped.

A thick, red-black mist coiled around your body, engulfing you. In an instant, it yanked you upward back to the terrace. Before you could make sense of it, you were back — kneeling on the terrace floor, your chest heaving. You wiped the sweat from your brow with a trembling hand, blinking rapidly to clear your vision.

You saw a shadow on the ground moving towards you and you whipped your head up. The first thing you saw was your stalker bird perched obediently on his shoulders making everything inside you still. His voice, when he spoke, was deep and measured, with a touch of amused disdain.

“Someone really ought to revoke your pistol permit, sweetie.”

Right at that moment, you saw a small bullet hole right in the center of his forehead and minimal blood splattered on his face. Your hand flew to your mouth not out of the knowledge of the fact that you had shot him when you were meaning to shoot the bird, but out of the realization that he was alive and walking around as if he owned the place — that the bullet hadn’t killed him, as if death had chosen to skip him entirely.

You rose slowly to your feet, gripping the gun tightly as you sized him up. The mechanical crow perched dutifully on his shoulder was all the confirmation you needed — this was the man who had sent it to track your every move. Your stalker. And yet, paradoxically, this same man had just saved your life. Then again, you wouldn’t have ended up in that kind of situation if his little invention hadn’t startled you in the first place.

You watched with thinly veiled curiosity as he dragged a finger across his forehead, the bullet hole sealing itself as though it had never existed. Calmly, he retrieved a small black handkerchief from the pocket of his blazer and methodically wiped the blood from his face.

“How is this even possible? How are you still standing—just who the hell are you?” you asked, finally finding your voice.

“A friend, sweetie,” he replied smoothly, returning the handkerchief to its place. Were your ears failing you or did you actually hear ‘fiend’ instead of ‘friend’? 

You chose not to voice your inner conflict. Instead, you crossed your arms and scoffed. “Friends don’t usually set their creepy little spy inventions to their so-called friends’ backs.”

He hummed in agreement, a low, velvety sound that matched the glint of amusement in his crimson eyes. They regarded you not with malice, but with the kind of knowing mirth that suggested he was three moves ahead — and quite enjoying it.

“I suppose I owe you an apology,” he began, voice smooth as silk. “Though, in my defense, necessity has a way of making choices for us.”

He stepped closer, the click of his boots against the floor deliberate. Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he offered a name like it was a game piece laid on the board:

“I’m Sylus. Leader of Onychinus.”

The name landed like a stone in your stomach. You straightened instinctively, mind racing — Onychinus. That was who employed your children.

As if unfazed by your reaction, he produced a coin from his pocket and began flipping it lazily between his fingers, each spin catching the dim light. His tone remained conversational, almost indulgent.

“Onychinus has, regrettably, found itself under the radar of Linkon’s Crime Department. A tedious affair, really. The recent... activity spike within the faction hasn’t helped. Naturally, I’ve been searching for someone competent enough to handle a few inconvenient legal entanglements. Imagine my surprise when I learned that one of Linkon’s finest legal minds was wandering around the N109 Zone.”

He gave a subtle nod to the mechanical crow perched on his shoulder.

“So yes,” he said, lips curling into a smirk, “I sent Mephisto to keep an eye on you. Strictly for your… safety, of course. The N109 isn’t exactly a welcoming place for an outsider like you.” He paused, tilting his head slightly, that smirk deepening. “And, well… turns out that decision paid off quite nicely, didn’t it?”

You swallowed the sarcastic “no thanks” on the tip of your tongue and crossed your arms instead, tapping your foot with restrained annoyance, forced to keep your demeanor since you didn’t have knowledge of the extent of his powers.

“So what now?” you asked, voice edged. “Am I expected to sell my soul just because you showed up at the right time?”

His smile turned cryptic, as if he knew something you didn’t. “Something along those lines.”

You narrowed your eyes, about to respond, when he smoothly cut in.

“All I ask is that you lend me your legal expertise. Temporarily. Help me navigate a few… complexities. I’d say that’s a fair trade for pulling you back from death’s doorstep, wouldn’t you?”

If your department found out you were even considering this offer, they’d have your resignation letter written before you could blink. But then again, it wasn’t like your hands were clean. You’d tampered with major criminal cases before, manipulating outcomes with your probability evol — all while claiming not to be an evolver when you first joined the judiciary.

"What exactly do I stand to gain in return?" You jutted your chin toward him with defiance, finally easing your gun back into the holster beneath your blazer.

"You’re a shark," he commented, the corner of his mouth curling into the faintest hint of a grin.

"You should see me when there's blood in the water," you shot back coolly, your lips pressed into a firm line.

Sylus didn’t hesitate. "Protection in the N109 Zone. Especially when you're forced to wade through the mess that brought you here in the first place. Housing at my estate and most needs taken care of. No one will know you're working for me, and your position in Linkon’s judicial branch will remain untouched. Your expenses will be handled. You'll have regular access to Mephisto, Luke, and Kieran."

He let that last part hang, crimson eyes observing your reaction.

Your breath hitched as you heard him mention the names of your twins. That alone was enough reason for you to work for him. You’d see them again. Every day, even. You could rebuild something real, something fragile that had almost been lost eighteen years ago. Thank goodness that the little semblance of pride in you prevented you from bursting into happy tears right at that very moment. 

You cleared your throat, eyes flickering to a distant point as if searching for a reason not to give in.

"Alright," you murmured, gaze steady now. "I'll work with Onychinus—for the time being."

Sylus leaned back in his seat, exuding a quiet satisfaction. "Excellent." He extended a hand, his voice like velvet over steel. "Welcome to Onychinus."

You took his hand in a firm shake. His grip was tightened for a fraction of a second and you could’ve sworn you saw some kind of hostility in his gaze before it was gone.

"Why don’t you gather your belongings from your apartment?" he suggested. "We’ll head to the estate once you’re ready. I’ll drive."

You gave it a moment’s thought, then nodded. He gestured for you to lead the way, ever the gentleman with a predator’s patience.

Once your footsteps had faded and the terrace fell silent, Mephisto, perched nearby, cocked his head and let out a low, inquisitive caw. His gaze remained locked on the door you had passed through, the space where you'd stood, almost as if he were waiting for you to reappear. 

After a long pause, Sylus finally spoke, his voice a whisper that still managed to echo with dark resonance. "They say to keep your friends close..." He let the words dangle, his lips curling ever so slightly. "...but it’s your enemies you should keep closer… Close enough to feel the pulse of their fear, yet distant enough that they never see your blade until it’s too late."

He turned to follow you, Mephisto perching back on his shoulder.

Author's exclusive cuts episode 1:-

In Latin, "Gemini" means "twins." Gemini is a bar which was sponsored by Sylus himself, a year after he officially met Luke and Kieran. Most of the ornaments and even the architecture of the place allude to the general theme which is 'twins'. Additionally, the menu of the bar is everything that the twins' like. The bar is "run-down" as a result of the twins antics overtime.

Check out my other works if you liked this ♥

[teaboot]

hiiiiiii so i have concepts of a story that were halted months ago due to my inability to fathom writing From The Perspective Of A Toddler. & now i have learned that you apparently remember the experience VIVIDLY. & i would like to ask,, if you would be so kind,, if you would be amenable to. giving tips. answering questions. etc

for instance the extremely crucial Do You Remember When You Learned How To Spell Your Name. & What Was Thinking Like

. pretty please i had lost hope

Oh, sure! Yeah, no problem

Kay so I learned how to read at around 4 and was p much fluent around 5- I remember cause I LOVED Calvin and Hobbes and Calvin was one year older than me

When I was 3ish I remember my mom starting with the alphabet, and I remembered learning it in chunks- so I usually didn’t forget just a single letter, but the whole chunk. ABCD-EFG-HIJK, like how the song goes, but if I got stuck on D and couldn’t remember E I’d jump to H just grasping for the next thing I could remember. And she made me learn in German too, so I got the idea of certain letters being able to make different noises

*(English alphabet LMNOP was the hardest cause it sounded like a word- ELEMENOPEE- and since all letter names sound like words I thought it was just one letter, like DOUBLE-YOU and WHY.)

**(My favourite German letter was OOPSILON ‘cause my mom made it sound like something you’d say after falling down in a silly way- like “whoopsie-doodles” or smthn)

So by the time it came to reading and writing, I already had most of the sounds memorized- the hardest things to remember where letters that COULD sound the same but weren’t interchangeable- like G and J- and which letters were usually in pairs and when- like -CK and Qu- -and which directions they faced when I wrote them down.

The most common backwards-letters were J, L, N, b, d, S, Z, a, q, and r.

I’m not getting doxxed today but my name had letter/s that I consistently wrote backwards.

In early grades, our teacher wrote our names on big pieces of paper and taped them to the top of our desks so we could see them every day, and let us decorate around them with pencil crayons so they’d be personalized. So remembering the right letters in the right order was pretty easy pretty fast, but some would still be backwards.

After we had the alphabet song down, we all got workbooks with 26 double-sides pages or so where there was one line of a single letter spelled in dashes we could trace, like Aa Aa Aa, then a line of capitals we had to free-write, like AAAA, then a line in lowercase- aaaa. After there was a line of text using that letter we could trace- Anna ate an apple- and then like five lines where we’d repeat it.

We were only supposed to do one or two a day, and I frequently got in trouble for blowing past that.

We had other workbooks just like that for learning cursive, but IMO cursive was easier because we already knew the letters, we just had to learn how they looked then they were fancy and how to connect them fluidly.

The worst part of learning to write was keeping the pencil steady. Holding a pencil to write when you’ve never done it before is kind of uncomfortable till you find a position that works for you, and it takes a while to get a feel for how close your fingers should be to one end. On top of that, it’s super hard to get a tidy line of any shape until your motor skills catch up- and they only catch up if you DO it enough.

My least-favourite things about learning to write was guessing which words ended in a silent E, whether or not a Wr- word was just an R-, and remembering that Q was always followed by a U.

Th- Wh- Ch- -Ce and Sh- sounds had an entire class one day, and a separate poster on the board with trains and people shushing so we’d know which one was which. Like a cheat sheet! Our teacher would sometimes tape construction paper over them before class started or during recess and we wouldn’t notice until after she announced a surprise pop quiz.

I hope some of this was what you were looking for?

Good luck writing! :D

[nathanbatemanfucker]

Fault Lines Ch. 4

request: wanted to know if you could write something where the reader is a ex-winter solider (just like bucky, but maybe she doesn't lose her arm) and how she struggles to accept Joaquin. An overall angst to fluff.

pairing: joaquin torres x ex super soldier!f!reader

contents: canon typical violence, illusions to abuse and torture, ptsd and other mental illness, enemies to lovers, angst, fluff if you squint!!!

wc: 1,463

an: this one definitely broke my heart a little but it’s all for the greater good i promise <33

fault lines masterlist

It had taken a couple weeks and sifting through some painful memories, but with Joaquin and Sam’s help you narrowed down the most likely place that your target was laying low. It was another facility, this time in the desert.

Where you preferred the heat over the freezing cold, you could tell that they were struggling by their water intakes and sweat soaked shirts. You decide not to say anything— heat makes people grumpy, and between you and Sam there’s enough grump. That and you have something much more important to focus on as you approach the building.

Joaquin shifts his weight, scanning the compound through his scope from their vantage point on the ridge. Beside him, you’re unnervingly still, eyes locked on the entrance like you can will your target into existence.

“We go in quiet,” Sam says over comms. “No unnecessary casualties. We take them alive if possible.”

You don’t respond. Joaquin does. “Copy.”

He glances at you, but your expression doesn’t change. The mission has been communicated and is clear, but he can feel the storm rolling inside you. This isn’t just another takedown to you. It’s an ending. The culmination of everything you’ve fought for, suffered for, lost.

It scares him because he knows you would give anything for it. Maybe even your life.

__

Once inside, the air is sterile and stale, filled with the ghosts of past violence never fully faded. The three of you move like shadows, clearing room after room. Hydra’s presence here is weak—their numbers already thinned from previous operations.

Despite the ease, you don’t relax. Not yet.

Joaquin watches the way your grip tightens around your weapon as each room is cleared. The way your breath grows more even and steady as you step over an unconscious body, moving toward the command center. This is what you were made for. The thought unsettles him.

When you finally find him, your target is alone in the dimly lit room, scrambling for a weapon he’ll never reach. You’re moving towards him with swiftness before Sam can give the order, grabbing him by the collar and slamming him against the console causing his nose to bleed. The sight, the coppery smell makes something inside you burn with satisfaction.

The man is just as you remember him. He doesn’t have a name, not a proper one but you and other soldiers called him The Mire. A twisted scar on his face and shocking blonde hair that you’ve seen in your nightmares.

He laughs through the pain, the haunting sound growing louder when you press the barrel of your gun to his forehead. “You think this ends with me?”

Joaquin steps forward. “You can make this easy, or—”

The man barely spares him a glance. His focus is on you, his eyes glittering with mischief. “Go on, then. You’ve come this far.” His lips curl into something taunting. “I wonder—when you close your eyes at night, do you see their faces?”

Your grip tightens. Joaquin sees it instantly—the slight shift in your stance, the barely-there hitch in your breath. You’re…hesitating?

The man must see it too, because his demented grin widens. “Of course you do.” His voice lowers, smooth, insidious. “It’s the price we pay, isn’t it? Those of us who were made for something greater.”

Joaquin moves closer. “Cállate.”

The man ignores him. His eyes stay on you. “The experiments. The conditioning. It never really leaves, does it? You can pretend all you want, but deep down, you know what you are.” His head tilts. “A weapon. A perfect little instrument of death.”

Joaquin sees the moment the words hit their mark. You don’t flinch, but something in your expression hardens. His words conjure memories that make you want to be at the end of your gun.

The man exhales through his nose, like he’s at peace with whatever happens next. “They made you to destroy, and look at you. Right on script.”

Joaquin steps closer. His voice is quiet, but firm. “Hey.”

You don’t look at him. The barrel of your gun presses more firmly against his forehead. Better him than you, right?

“No eres tú,” Joaquin urges.

Your finger hovers over the trigger. This will fix everything. It’ll save you from your torment and allow you to move forward, right?

The man smirks, eyes flicking between you and Joaquin. “Oh, I see now,” he breathes out a laugh. “You’ve got your own little soldier whispering sweet nothings to you. That’s cute. You’ve thought about it right? What his neck feels like under your hands?”

Joaquin’s jaw clenches, but he doesn’t take the bait. “Walk away,” he murmurs.

The man keeps going, his grin widening. “It must kill you, doesn’t it? Knowing what you are. Knowing that no matter what, he’ll always be the one looking at you like you’re something more.” His eyes glint with something cruel. “But tell me, what happens when he finally sees you for what you really are?”.

Joaquin shakes his head, stepping even closer, voice just for you now. “You don’t belong to anyone but yourself.”

For the first time, your focus wavers, your gaze meeting his. Despite the daunting situation, Joaquin’s eyes are the warmest shade of brown you’ve ever seen. That warmth is at the core of who he is, spreading through every cell in his body and radiating off of him. You feel it’s contrast on the rough, cold edges of your makeup.

Joaquin doesn’t look away. “No eres un arma. Nunca lo fuiste. But you pull that trigger, and they win. They still own you.”

Your jaw clenches. Slowly, painfully—you lower the gun.

Your target’s laugh is cut short by Sam knocking him out cold. Joaquin watches you, but your face is unreadable.

It’s over. Hydra’s last head severed.

You thought that knowing he was done would drain the dread from your body, but you don’t feel any relief. There’s nothing but darkness and confusion, hopelessness finding its play in your belly.

—

The ride back to the local safehouse is quiet. Joaquin sits across from you in the Quinjet, waiting.

But you don’t say a word— you have a map out in front of you, developing your next steps. You aren’t sure where to go or what to do but you know you can’t stay with them.

Sam’s the first to speak. “You did good.”

His praise is meant to make you feel good about making the “right” decision but they just make you feel sick.

Softly, the words feeling foreign on your tongue, you say, “I don’t know what to do now.”

Joaquin leans forward, beating down the urge to reach out and grab your hand. “Then maybe that’s the point. You get to figure it out. And we could— I could—“

You hold his gaze, something soft he can’t name in your eyes. But then, just like that, it’s gone. “I’m not staying.”

Sam doesn’t argue. Neither does Joaquin as much as he wants to. You having choices is important him after the life you’ve been forced to live.

They watch you stand and grab what little gear you have before heading for the ramp. The Quinjet hasn’t even landed yet, but you’re already moving forward.

Joaquin stands, stepping closer to you. “No tienes que hacer esto solo.”

You smile— really smile— but even then it doesn’t reach your eyes. “I always have, baby bird. No te preocupes por mí.”

The ramp lowers and the night’s air rushes inside, cold without the beating sun.

You don’t say anything else and before he can try to find something to fill the silence, you surprise him. You step forward—just close enough for your fingers to graze his as you pass. A fleeting touch, barely there, but Joaquin feels it like a brand. Like an electric shock.

His breath catches and then he’s watching you fade into the sand, and soon into the mountains, something heavy settling in his chest.

Sam claps him on the shoulder. “You know, for someone who talks a lot, you were pretty damn quiet back there.”

Joaquin sighs, running a hand down his face. “Not the time, man.”

Sam snorts. “Oh, I’m sorry. You want me to pretend I haven’t noticed the whole thing you’ve got going on?”

Joaquin turns to glare at him. Sam grins.

“I mean, come on,” Sam continues. “She gives you one look, and you go all soft. And don’t think I missed the way she touched your hand before leaving.” He raises a brow. “You gonna tell me that meant nothing?”

Joaquin exhales, shaking his head. “I, uh, I don’t know.”

Sam hums, unconvinced. “Well, I’ll say this—you better hope she comes back. I don’t think you’d take it well if she didn’t.”

Joaquin doesn’t know what he could say to make Sam back off but deep down, he knows the man is right.

sfw joaquin taglist: @magikdarkholme, @plan3t-plut0, @mewmew222, @linnygirl09, @ezhz444, @karmaswitch, @badbishsblog, @glader13, @how2besalty, @happypopcornprincess, @hiireadstuffsometimes, @lisiliely, @spider-steve, @nolita-fairytale, @hrlzy, @faretheeoscar, @giuliahowlett, @abriefnirvana, @fanboyswhore9 , @sidkneeeee, @sophreakingfunny, @heartbreakgirlism, @peachyxlynch, @lomlbuckybarnes, @a-randomscrub, @ajcs150, @glimodejun, @isuckatmath, @arsonhotchner, @sidkneeeee, @galaxywannabe, @retrosabers, @marchingicenotes7, @marroonwitch, @jaebugzz, @that-girl-named-alex, @bxtchboy69, @moonymeloncholymoney, @mischiefmanaged71, @something-random-idk, @dualinstinct, @alevanswrites, @articel1967, @lanoviadestiles, @zolassalgorhythm, @peacefangirl

> ch.5

[hivemuthur]

A Deer and a Man - Ch.5.

viktorxfemale!reader explicit - somewhat more debauched than last time. From warnings, the earlier mentioned age gap makes a brief appearance and maybe there is a small mention of unrelatable to current day and age dating advice.

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.6.

word count: 6,8K

tag: #d&m

summary: You are the eldest daughter of a noble family, soon to be married to one of the most eligible bachelors in the region—Viktor, the adopted son of House Talis. The arrangement is simple: a marriage that secures your family’s wealth in exchange for access to Hextech. What could possibly go wrong?

author’s note: @mithrava and @rennethen thank you for reading before publishing! Playlist on Spotify. Please remember that you have to trust me and that if anything happens to me after I publish this you won't get chapter 6!!! :v

also the artist behind art is here!

Cross-posted on AO3

—

Emboldened by Eliza’s remark, you have been spending far more time in your husband’s company. The days pass in shared meals, conversations that stretch beyond necessity, and the occasional reading session on a rare, unoccupied Sunday.

Jayce’s visits have become a frequent occurrence, as he and Viktor steadily ascend the mountain of progress. During those times, you busy yourself with your own musical research, reaching conclusions that unfurl new paths in your mind.

But even the new paths and distractions are unable to erase what is already there. It is a slow, simmering thing—the frustration prickling beneath your skin, winding tighter with every prolonged moment spent in Viktor’s company. You have been careful, measured, reigning yourself in as best you can, yet he tests your restraint at every turn. A glance held a beat too long, a touch that lingers just past propriety, the way his voice dips into something softer, something intimate, as if he, too, forgets himself. And it is unbearable, this game of almosts. He speaks as though there is no distance between you, yet never crosses the space that remains. He teases, draws near, only to retreat just as quickly, leaving you feeling restless, your pulse ever heightened in his presence.

And yet, you are not blameless either. You lean into his attention, bask in it, even as it vexes you. Every time his gaze flickers over your hands as you play, every time he hovers just behind you, close enough that his breath stirs the fine hairs at your nape, you feel yourself falter. You ought to ignore it, to accept the terms set between you and continue as if you are unaffected. But how could you, when he unravels you with the smallest, most maddening gestures? It would be easier if he were cruel, distant, indifferent. But he is none of those things. Instead, he lingers—always lingering—until your restraint is worn thin and you find yourself wondering if he enjoys this torment as much as you suffer it.

It all clatters in your head on one of those inconceivable Sunday afternoons you both spend poring over books, lost in research—Viktor tracing the paths of physics, you unravelling the intricate bond between music and mathematics. He moves about restlessly, sighing and muttering to himself, his sharp mind leaping from one thought to the next as he periodically reaches for a new tome, only to abandon it moments later atop the ever-growing pile beside the couch where you sit.

At some point his fingers drift absently over the spines of the books wedged onto the lower shelves, searching without intent until they settle on a worn volume of mythology. He pulls it free, the pages crackling faintly as he flips through them, skimming past Olympian feuds and mortal tragedies until a familiar name catches his eye—Artemis. He lingers, scanning the depiction of the huntress goddess, poised with her bow, forever untouchable, her gaze fixed ahead as if daring pursuit. The text beside her tells of Actaeon, the hunter who strayed too close, who dared to watch and was punished for his folly. Viktor exhales sharply, pressing the bridge of his nose between his fingers. How fitting—he, too, had looked when he should not have. Had lingered, fascinated, when reason dictated he turn away. And yet, had you not looked back? Had you not, in your own way, invited the chase? A dry, exasperated chuckle escapes him before he can help it. Across the room, he feels the shift in the air as you glance up from your work, your curious gaze landing on him.

“Something the matter?” you ask innocently, your brows knitting at the sight of his fingers loosening his shirt collar in a restless gesture.

“Ah, nothing,” he waves a hand dismissively, shutting the book with a decisive snap. “Just the universe having its fun with me.” He turns back toward the shelves, as if the spines of the books might conceal the blush creeping up his face.

He cannot bring himself to voice the nagging truth of it—that he has let what should have been a small, fleeting thought fester into something resembling a mythological tragedy. A tragedy in which he, once a man, has been turned into a stag, unworthy of the sacrosanct essence before him, and soon to be devoured by the very hound of his own self-doubt. How fitting.

He twists his cane into the floorboards, staring so intently at the books before him that he doesn’t notice when you slip behind him and swipe the tome from his grasp.

The pages fall open in your hands, right where his fingers had pressed into the inner spine, revealing the very passage that had left him so restless. Over his shoulder, he catches the ghost of a knowing smile as you murmur, “Oh, Artemis. How fitting, is it not?”

Viktor swallows, his gaze flickering away before he slowly turns to face you. His head dips low as he exhales, voice quiet but weighted. “Eerily so.”

You watch him carefully, your gaze flickering between the book in your hands and the way his throat bobs as he swallows. The weight of his admission lingers in the air between you, taut and expectant. He has been teasing you for weeks—sidelong glances, lingering touches, remarks laced with just enough suggestion to leave you wondering if you were imagining it all. But now the way he hesitates, the way his ears burn despite his best efforts to appear unaffected—you see an opportunity. A game he has unknowingly invited you to play.

Your grip tightens around the tome you hold, a slow smile curling at the edges of your lips. If he enjoys toying with you, then perhaps it is time he experiences the other side of the game. You take a breath, steadying the thrill that hums beneath your skin, and step forward.

“Viktor,” you say softly, taking a measured step toward him, the book snapping shut in your hands. “Would you say you are still a man?”

His mouth falls open, words failing him when you are so near. He is within reach—so unbearably close that he can feel the warmth of you, the quiet pull of your presence. You rest the book on the shelf behind him, and your hands, unhurried, slide up his shirt, nails grazing the stitching. Viktor’s breath catches in his throat.

“Undoubtedly, a man still,” he answers, though his voice trembles. A foolish one, he thinks. His fingers clench around the head of his cane until his knuckles pale, while his other hand lingers at his side, twitching—caught between reaching for you and restraint.

Your breath fans against his skin as you inch closer, your mouth hovering over his. When you speak, your lips brush. “Then why do you quake like a stag about to be ripped to pieces?”

You hold his gaze, waiting—for permission, for surrender. It is the closest you have ever been to him, save for the innocent peck he bestowed upon you on your wedding day. Since then, you have remembered the taste of his breath and the feel of his lips against yours—so fleeting, so proper—that it left your soul thrashing within your ribcage in frustration.

Viktor exhales a shuddering breath, and the war between restraint and want is lost to the latter. His hands seize your waist, cane clatters to the floor, and his mouth crashes into yours, all hesitation dissolving between breaths. Heat pools low in your stomach as his torso presses against yours—you can feel his pulse beneath your palm. He leans into you, one hand gripping your neck, noses pressed together as his tongue invades you with a need you’d never have accused him of. The feeling floods you, ardent and searing, and you slide your fingers into his hair, ruining its arrangement further. Viktor groans into your mouth, twists you around and, with a dull thud, presses you against the library shelves, knocking the air from your lungs.

Your first real kiss, and already so perverse, so filthy. God help you, how much you want him in that moment. You swallow his tongue and moan at the feeling of his hand trailing up your nape to grasp the hair at the base of your skull. He could toss you around like a ragdoll and you would let him, for a promise of those lips leaving burning marks down your belly.

For Viktor, it is the embodiment of everything he has tried to imagine alone in his bed when his hand wandered shamelessly down his stomach. He can feel himself growing hotter as he steps between your legs, his palms falling, hesitating around your backside before he grasps it greedily, pressing your pelvis into his. You release a hot moan into his mouth at the feeling of his hardness against you. For a moment, Viktor forgets all the thoughts that tell him it is impossible for a man like him to have everything he ever wanted, landing so unexpectedly in his lap. That it is impossible to be loved and wanted, not merely for his achievements, but purely for who he is.

And you want him so much that your hand slips down his chest, reaching lower to palm him through his trousers—and Viktor groans, unable to stop himself from leaning in, deepening the kiss. His body responds, urging him to let go, to fully give in to the moment. He kisses you, his lips demanding, but as the intensity grows, so do the dark thoughts in his mind. You deserve someone more—someone whole, someone who isn’t weighed down by his frugality.

Viktor’s heart stutters, and he pulls away abruptly, the heat between you suddenly unbearable. He stumbles back, his chest heaving, and though the urge to reach for his cane is strong, he doesn't. Instead, he steps back, limping, the weight of his own self-doubt pushing him further away. His mind is filled with the painful truth: he is unworthy. He turns his face to the side, struggling to regain control, but the distance between you both only deepens the ache in his chest.

“Forgive me—I have forgotten myself,” he stutters, panting. He runs a hand through his hair, smoothing it back into place. “You… you don’t need to do this. Forgive me,” he says again, his face flushed a pretty pink, lips still glistening from where he’d kissed you.

“What is there to forgive?” you ask, your voice unsteady, suddenly frightened you’ve done something wrong. You pick up the cane and step toward him, confused, but he moves back once more. Your brows knit in worry.

“As this was never a marriage of love, only a contract of mutual benefit, this—” Viktor gestures vaguely, as if pointing to something obvious, though his voice betrays uncertainty. His fingers twitch before he forces his hand back to his side. “You are not obligated in any way to—”

“What if I do?” you cut him off, the words sharp, almost reckless. You tell yourself to be brave for the both of you, because Viktor looks like he is about to faint from the strain any minute.

“Love you, that is.” The words leave your lips in one of the boldest acts you’ve ever committed.

Viktor blinks, once, twice. His mouth parts in surprise, but nothing comes out at first. And then—he exhales a quiet chuckle, one that holds no real amusement. For a moment, you think he laughs at himself, but the words that come next cut cold through you. “Oh, you don’t love me, sweet girl.”

The dismissal lodges itself in your chest like a blade, twisting.

“And how would you possibly have the faintest idea of what I do feel?” Your voice is measured, but heat creeps into it, simmering under the surface.

“I just…” Viktor hesitates, his fingers pressing against his temples before he forces himself to meet your gaze again. “Forgive me. What I meant was that I don’t need you to say or do such things. I respect the terms of our contract, and—”

“Well, have you ever considered respecting me and my wishes?” Once more, you step toward him.

His expression tightens. “I am respecting you. By respecting the contract.”

You let out a sharp breath, disbelief curling at the edges of your voice. “Are you truly this devoid of emotion?”

With that, the cane is pushed into his hands. Viktor flinches, but his jaw sets, his logic a shield against the confrontation. “Are you sure you are interpreting yours well?” he counters, voice low. “I am aware that spending a lot of time with someone might feel like love, yet I am also aware that this is not something we would have chosen, had we been given another option.” Trying to regain his ground, he supports both hands on the cane and straightens, looking down on you.

“So, we are to stand blindly by the unwavering sentiment?” Your voice rises, cutting through the space between you. “There are at least three contracts we are entangled in. Which is the one you are respecting so dutifully?”

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I’d like to believe that the respect extends to all of them.” His tone is edged with frustration. “And I would expect the same of you.”

“What if they mutually exclude each other?” You cross your arms, the anger burning now, holding you upright when the weight of his words threatens to push you down. “The ‘do as thou wilt’ and the ‘love and cherish’ seem not to come along so smoothly.”

They do, Viktor imagines himself saying. And then he imagines himself kissing you senseless again, the taste of your lips still lingering on his. But he just stands there, twisting his cane into the wooden floor, denting it.

“I never thought myself someone who would ever want a man, not after the encounters I was granted,” you say, seeing him resistant. “Yet, I was proven wrong. So even though I do resent having my choice taken away from me, I am grateful that fate has granted me you.”

Viktor’s lips press into a thin line, and for a moment, you think you see something waver in his expression—but then he shakes his head, the walls he’s built around himself hardening once again. “That is… very kind,” he says slowly. “Yet still. Such bonds, the ones you speak of, they form over years, through experience. And you—you do not know me, not truly.”

“I do not?” You let out a sharp, humourless laugh. “And what else do I possibly have to do every waking hour other than either speaking with you or observing you? Watching you eat, work, rest. Have I not had enough opportunity to form my own opinion? Do you truly think me this stupid?”

“This is not—” He exhales, pinching the bridge of his nose, visibly flustered. “I do not deem you stupid. On the contrary. But you are… so young.” His voice softens, as if trying to convince himself of something he’s not yet ready to admit. “I fear that what you feel might be an illusion. A—a youthful infatuation at best, and—”

“How many years part us?” You cut him off, not allowing him the chance to finish.

He blinks, startled by the sudden shift. “Uh. Eight. Eight years.”

“And do you think that within those eight years I will gain the wisdom I am apparently lacking now?” Your arms cross, a challenge sparking in your eyes. “Do you think an eight-year-old is wiser than a newborn?”

Viktor exhales through his nose, tilting his head slightly. “Actually, significantly, yes.”

“And why is that?” You arch a brow, daring him to justify his argument.

He shifts his weight onto his cane, his fingers tapping against the handle as if sorting through his thoughts, fighting to maintain control of the conversation. “Other than an ability to walk, formulate sentences, and be much more independent than a newborn—possibly even the ability to read, if they are fortunate enough to receive such a learning opportunity.” He pauses, his voice light but firm. “And I could go on if you wish me to.”

“Well, I disagree. I asked you about wisdom, not intelligence or learned skills.” Your voice does not waver, and Viktor’s brows lift ever so slightly at the confidence with which you speak.

“A newborn is able to express their emotions and needs without inhibition, therefore receiving all the attention, feeding, and care they require almost instantly,” you continue, leaning forward. “They know no shame, no social cues to obey nor they fear anyone’s judgment.”

Viktor is silent, but his gaze is fixed on you, searching. Admiring, almost.

“So tell me, in those eight years that part us,” you press on, your voice quieter but no less firm, “have you been granted some elderly wisdom that I will also gain in time? Will it make me see better, make me ascend to the pedestal from which you speak to me now? Or am I safe to say that from the pit I am standing in, I see myself expressing my needs and emotions freely while you are the one obeying restrictions and cues laid upon you by yourself only?”

His throat bobs as he swallows, his lips parting slightly, but no words come.

“Why is it so unthinkable that you’ve married a woman who has fallen in love with you upon getting to know you better?”

His eyes flicker with something deep and wounded, and for a fleeting moment, you pity him, until he speaks again.

“Because…” Viktor draws a slow breath, his voice barely above a whisper, the weight of his own conflicted thoughts crashing against the defences he’s tried so hard to build. “I don’t dare to deem my fate this gracious. Ever.”

You stare at him, your chest tightening. “Are you such a vile man, Viktor, that your fate should be cruel?”

“No.” His response is immediate, almost startled. His fingers twitch where they rest on his cane, fighting the urge to reach for you. “I’m simply… not a man to whom miracles like that happen.”

Your breath catches, but you do not let the moment pass unanswered.

“So,” you murmur, tilting your head slightly, eyes burning into his, “your hypothesis is based purely on your personal restrictions, not upon any scientific research or wisdom?”

He hesitates, something in his face flickering again—like a man standing on the edge of belief but refusing to fall, the fight between reason and heart battling within him.

“Please forgive me if I have offended you,” he says at last, voice careful, placating. “I didn’t—”

You shake your head, cutting through his words like a blade. “I am not so quick to offend.”

He stills. This is all beyond anything he would deem possible. Not only because your agreement on paper was supposed to be beneficial and comfortable on both sides—there should be no reason to move it so abruptly. But would it also be possible that you’ve seen right through him?

And as if he is not ruined enough, you open your mouth again. “What plagues me,” you continue, voice soft but heavy with meaning, “is the audacity with which you stand before me and lie to my face.”

Viktor’s brow furrows, his lips parting slightly before he speaks, his biggest fear about to be confronted. “What are you talking about?”

Your fingers curl at your sides, nails digging into your palms as you take a measured breath. “Why do you think I am such an imbecile? Because of my youth, is that it?” Your voice does not rise, but the sharp edge of it cuts through the space between you. “I will inform you now that I do have a pair of eyes, ears, and a brain. And my eyes not only truly see you, but they also see the way you look at me.”

Viktor tenses, the muscle in his jaw twitching. His fingers flex against his cane, but he does not speak.

“My ears hear the way you talk to me,” you press on, stepping forward, “and they hear you whispering my name to yourself at night when you commit your depravities alone.”

His breath audibly catches, his composure splintering again. He stiffens as if struck, his eyes flickering wide before darting away, shame bleeding into his features.

“And my brain,” you continue, relentless, “connects all of this information into a conclusion of which I am not ashamed—but you are.”

Viktor exhales sharply through his nose, shaking his head, his lips pressing into a thin line.

“So I ask again,” you demand, voice trembling with emotion now, “what is so unthinkable in two people falling in love? What repulses you so?”

His eyes snap back to yours, startled, almost wounded.

“Is it me, or is it you?” Your voice softens, but the accusation in it lingers like a ghost in the air. “Is it my bluntness? Is it the way I eat or the way I speak? Am I truly so foolish that I have mistaken the look in your eyes for love?”

His mouth opens, but all he can offer is silence.

“Do you not lust for me but secretly curse me in the middle of the night?” Your voice trembles now, the fire burning in your chest threatening to crack. “Or is it you who fears something that shouldn’t be feared—because you prefer to be miserable for some godforsaken reason?”

Viktor’s breath stutters, his entire body visibly rigid. He looks utterly stricken, as though you have peeled him open and laid him bare.

“Darling, I—” His voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper, reaching for you instinctively.

But you step back, your hand lifting between you—a final barrier.

“No.” The word is firm, final.

His eyes darken, his fingers curling into a fist at his side.

“I have no interest in excuses.” Your voice does not waver, but your breathing is uneven, chest rising and falling with the force of your emotions. “I wish for you to know that I am furious with you and need to be alone.”

Viktor flinches slightly at the raw honesty of your words, but he does not fight them.

“You can continue to dwell in your misery,” you finish, turning sharply away from him, “if that is what makes you whole.”

You do not look back as you walk away since the tears piercing your eyes would make seeing anything impossible anyway.

And Viktor—motionless, breathless—lets you go. He watches you go, his throat constricting around words that stubbornly will not come. His hands twitch at his sides, fingers aching to reach for you, to stop you, to—what? Apologize? Confess? No. That would unravel everything. His heart pounds against his ribs, a traitorous thing, as if trying to break free from the prison of his own making.

You have laid him bare, stripped him of every excuse, every justification he had carefully built between you. And yet, he does nothing. Not because he does not want to—God, how he wants to—but because a man like him has never been enough to be able to want. He has always been the one who watches from the sidelines, the one who reaches too late or never at all. You think him a coward, and perhaps you are right. But he has spent a lifetime learning that the things he desires most are the very things he is fated to lose. So he lets you go. Because he does not know how to hold onto something so bright without dimming it in his grasp.

***

The following days are agonizing. Eliza does her very best to cheer you up to no avail. She fusses over your hair, braiding it messily with ribbons in a way that once made you laugh, but now only earns her a sad smile. She brings you tea sweetened just how you like it, offering biscuits with a hopeful raise of her brows, yet you nibble absently at the edges, appetite lost. She chatters about the household gossip, about Master Jayce’s latest visit and how he nearly tripped over the hound outside, but even that fails to coax more than a hum from you.

You go to bed early and wake late, ensuring you miss Viktor at meals. When Eliza asks if you’d like to join her on a morning walk, you decline with a shake of your head, burrowing deeper beneath the covers. When you finally rise, the house is already alive with movement, but you drift through it like a ghost, keeping to the quieter corridors, seeking solitude. You play the piano only when you know Viktor is deep in work, your fingers coaxing out the saddest tunes—mostly requiems by John Field, the notes bleeding sorrow into the air, though no one dares to comment on it.

For Viktor, it’s equally harrowing. In the lab, he finds himself distracted, his mind slipping from equations and mechanisms to the faint strains of music drifting through the halls. More often than not, he catches himself leaning toward the door, tilting his head as if to better hear the mournful tunes spilling from the piano. Each note is an audible wound, a requiem played just for him, and he sighs deeply, rubbing a weary hand over his face.

Jayce notices. “Alright, what’s wrong with you?” he prods one afternoon when Viktor stares blankly at an open notebook, his quill poised but unmoving. “You’ve been off for days.” Viktor dismisses him with a terse shake of his head, returning to his work with forced concentration, but the weight in his chest does not lift.

He lingers in the dining room longer than usual, poking absently at his food, glancing toward the doorway with misplaced hope. Each time, disappointment settles heavier in his stomach when you do not come. Some nights, in the quiet hush of the corridors, he stops before your bedroom door, his fingers hovering near the wood. He stands there, poised to knock, his breath shallow and uneven. But in the end, his hand falls away, and he walks back to his own chambers, the ache in his chest deepening.

One day, when you have exhausted your repertoire of requiems, Eliza finds you in the music room, chest heaving, eyes wide. You are slumped over the instrument in resignation, your finger pressing the same key over and over, the dull note echoing through the room.

“Miss, forgive my intrusion,” she says hastily, a hand holding a short stay and a brush clutched to her chest. “But a carriage is approaching. It’s… most likely your Lady Mother.”

You stop pressing the key, the last note fading into tense silence as your head snaps up to look at her, quiet panic tightening your throat. Your hand flies to your undone hair, then to your chest as you try to form the words, “How long?”

“Five minutes at best,” Eliza says, already moving toward you with purpose. She tosses the brush and short stay onto the piano bench before grabbing your hands, tugging you upright. “Come, we must—oh, Lord, miss, this is a disaster—”

“I know!” you hiss back as she hastily pulls at the laces of your gown, working to fasten them properly. The two of you grunt and mutter through the ordeal, Eliza’s fingers fumbling in her haste while you attempt to twist your hair into some semblance of order. “This is impossible!” you whine as a stubborn curl springs free.

In the corridor, a similar chaos unfolds.

Jayce groans as he struggles with Viktor’s cravat, attempting to loop it into something presentable while smoothing down Viktor’s hopelessly unruly hair. “Hold still, damn it,” Jayce huffs. “It’s just your mother-in-law, not the bloody King—”

“She is worse,” Viktor mutters, shoving Jayce’s hands away to fix his cravat himself.

As they pass the music room, Viktor glances toward the open door—and then promptly regrets it. A swish of skirts, a flash of petticoats, the sight of your bare legs as Eliza yanks your gown into place—he freezes so violently that Jayce walks straight into him, their foreheads colliding with a loud crack.

“Fuck!” Viktor curses, reeling back and clutching his head.

Inside the room, you and Eliza startle. Then, to your own shock, a laugh bubbles up from your throat, spilling into the tense air. Eliza claps a hand over her mouth, giggling as she hurriedly finishes the last adjustments to your dress.

By the time you all converge in the main hall, everything is rushed, frantic—Eliza fussing with the last stray wisps of your hair, Jayce straightening his waistcoat, Viktor rolling his shoulders as if that might somehow ease the tension thrumming through the air.

You, however, stand still, pulse pounding, hands tightening into fists at your sides. Your mother’s carriage is nearly at the door, and dread coils tight in your stomach.

Viktor notices. Before you can retreat into yourself, his hand lifts—fingertips brushing against your cheek, then cupping it fully. The warmth of his palm is grounding, and your breath catches. It is the first real touch, the first true interaction, since that day.

He leans in, his voice a low murmur against your ear.

“Calm,” he soothes, his thumb stroking over your cheekbone. “You look gorgeous.”

You beg whatever god is listening to freeze this moment in time—his hand on you, his breath tickling your ear, the scent of his hair filling your airways. You place your palm over his in silent thanks, failing to notice the way Jayce smiles at the scene or the exact moment Algernon swings the door open and announces your mother and sisters.

The squeal of your name echoes through the room as both Kitty and Tess squeeze past the butler, tumbling forward to wrap themselves around your waist and knees. You kneel to hold them properly, only then realising your eyes are prickled with unshed tears.

“Why are you crying?” Tess asks, tugging at a stray strand of your hair.

“I’m just so happy to see you,” you lie, burying your face in her small shoulder.

You sniffle the moment up and straighten at once, smoothing down your skirts as you rise to greet your mother properly. The warmth of your sisters' embrace lingers, but you push it aside as you step forward and dip into a practiced curtsy.

"Maman," you say, keeping your voice even.

"Darling," she replies, her lips pursed as she takes you in—your hasty attire, the remnants of Eliza’s rushed handiwork in your hair. You see the flicker of disapproval in her eyes, but she says nothing, merely offering her hand for you to take. You do, squeezing her gloved knuckles with a weak smile.

Viktor steps forward next, inclining his head in a small bow. "My Lady," he greets, his voice composed but restrained. He takes her hand lightly and brushes his lips against the air above her knuckles, the way one might approach a queen, detached but polite.

Your mother watches him with the same cool appraisal she granted you. She neither scowls nor softens, merely observes. "Mister Viktor," she returns, voice unreadable.

Jayce, ever the charmer, takes her hand with a dashing grin. "It is a pleasure, My Lady. You honour us with your presence."

Your mother gives a faint smile, the first hint of warmth she has shown, though it does not quite reach her eyes. "Mister Jayce. Ever the gentleman, I see."

What follows is an unbearably awkward meal. The silverware clinks too loudly in the strained silence, and the small talk is stilted at best. Jayce does his utmost to fill the gaps, speaking of inconsequential things—the weather, the state of trade, some dull anecdote from the city. You nod along, offering practiced smiles, while Viktor remains reserved, answering only when addressed. Your mother partakes little, her expression unreadable as she dabs her lips with her napkin and hums noncommittally at each new topic.

At last, as the meal nears its end, she sets down her utensils with a quiet clink. "Eliza, dear," she addresses your maid, "why don't you take the girls for a proper tour of the house? I would like a moment alone with my daughter and her husband."

Eliza hesitates, glancing at you for approval, but you only nod, not trusting yourself to speak. She rises from her chair on the side of the room, gesturing for Kitty and Tess to follow. The girls glance between you and your mother, sensing something unspoken, but obey without question. As their chatter fades into the hallway, an uncomfortable stillness settles over you.

Once Algernon leads the remaining adults into the drawing room, your mother settles onto the cushioned couch, folding her hands in her lap as she levels you with an assessing gaze. "Now, my dear," she says smoothly, "why don't you tell me how married life has been treating you?"

You lower yourself onto the second couch beside Viktor, careful to keep your posture poised under your mother’s scrutiny. Viktor, ever the tactician, takes your hands in his—awkwardly, hesitantly, as if the gesture will anchor the illusion.

"Very well," you answer, the words brittle with forced brightness.

"Very well," Viktor echoes at once, his tone so unconvincing that even Jayce shifts uncomfortably.

Your mother’s mouth twitches, amusement flickering behind her cool gaze. "I take it your little scheme was worth it, then?"

Jayce coughs out a chuckle before quickly disguising it as a clearing of his throat. Viktor leans forward, already forming a rushed explanation, but you cut them both off.

"My scheme," you correct, lifting your chin. "It was me."

As you level her with a stare, the misery that has weighed on you for days begins to lift. In its place rises a familiar defiance—one that has always been yours, steadfast and unyielding. For the first time in what feels like an eternity, confidence surges through you, not as a fractured piece of yourself, but as something whole. You are no longer a collection of selves fighting for dominance; you are one, moulded by every version of yourself that has ever existed. And now, with conjoined hands, you face your mother at last, stepping into the duel your father had warned you about.

"Gentlemen," she says, her gaze fixed on you, unwavering. "If you would be so kind as to give me and my daughter a moment alone."

"My Lady, if I may—" Viktor begins, but you silence him with a touch, your hand landing gently on his cheek.

"It's all right," you murmur.

He stares back at you, eyes full of admiration. In a moment that belongs only to the two of you, he nods, his fingers squeezing your knee in silent acknowledgement. Then, without a word, he rises, inclines his head respectfully to your mother, and beckons a bewildered Jayce toward the door.

Your mother watches the exchange, her expression unmoving, betraying nothing. Only when the door clicks shut behind the men does she turn back to you, her gaze sharp and assessing, bright like a hawk preparing to strike.

"What do you have to say for yourself?"

You meet her stare unflinchingly. "I could ask the same of you." She exhales, a slow, measured breath. "The contract was horribly unjust," you continue, your voice steady. "Did you truly believe I would sit back and accept it without protest?"

"It truly eludes me how you are so quick to dismiss your own blood over a man you had met only once. Oh, the power of love—so mysterious," she says with a venomous smile.

"No need to be cruel, Maman," you reply, your voice measured.

"I am not being cruel. Simply wounded that you, my own daughter, went behind my back for some—"

"Some?" you challenge, cutting her off before the insult fully forms. You watch as she swallows whatever sharp remark was poised on her tongue, the hesitation almost imperceptible. Pressing forward, you add, "In all honesty—would you have reconsidered if I had come to you first?"

She exhales, waving a dismissive hand as she leans back against the couch in a way you've never seen before—relaxed, almost resigned.

"Probably not," she admits. "You could have told me sooner, though. I made a complete fool of myself in front of your father. He was utterly delighted to know something before I did."

Your eyebrows lift in surprise, and you let out a startled chuckle. "Is that all? You're not going to reprimand me? Tell me how I’ve endangered the family?"

"You are married now. And the research is going well, from what I’ve heard. The only ones who can endanger the family now are your sisters—though, thanks to your efforts, the pressure on them is significantly lower."

"That’s… what?" You blink at her, caught off guard.

She sighs, then tilts her head slightly as if studying you. "I apologize for surprising you. Though I must admit, I was hoping you would invite me sooner."

"Maman, I—"

"No need." She moves from her seat to sit beside you, reaching for your hand in a gesture so unfamiliar that you tense before allowing it. Never in your life has your mother been this loose with you, this… human.

"Oh, darling," she murmurs, giving your hand a light squeeze. "I am glad to see you well. Though…" Her sharp eyes scan you with barely concealed disapproval. "I see my teachings have done nothing for you. Quite the opposite, in fact," she adds, her gaze flicking to your bare ankles peeking from beneath your skirts and your hastily pinned hair.

"But who am I to dictate now," she muses, her tone wry. "If your husband doesn’t object."

"He… he cares not," you mutter, your brows knitting as you glance down at her hand still wrapped around yours.

She tilts your chin up, a smile, a warm, strange smile curves her face in a way that is so uncharacteristic your mouth falls open. “That,” she says quietly, “I find hard to believe.”

And you don’t know if it’s the whirlwind of emotions that have coursed through your veins in the span of mere hours or the sheer surprise of your mother acting—well, like an actual mother for the first time since you reached adolescence—but the tears you had managed to hold back before can no longer be contained. They spill down your cheeks as you press your face into the nape of her neck and whisper, "He doesn’t want me."

She stiffens at first, caught off guard by the way you fold into her like a child, but then—slowly, hesitantly—her arms lower, encircling you in an embrace. One hand smooths over your hair, the other presses firm against your back, as if she could hold you together through touch alone.

“My darling child,” she murmurs, her voice softer than you have ever heard it. “I have seen men upon men in my lifetime, and trust me when I tell you—if Viktor wants something, it is you. He just doesn’t know how to ask.”

You freeze. Her words settle deep in your chest, cracking open something raw that you have kept hidden even from yourself. The weight of the past few days—the sleepless nights, the aching uncertainty, the cold distance that has built between you and Viktor—collapses in on itself. The dam breaks.

You tell her everything. Or as much as you dare. You skirt around the details that would surely make her regret this moment of motherly indulgence, but you pour out the rest. The tension, the longing, the way Viktor had held you at bay, the way he had looked at you like you were something fragile, something to be preserved rather than touched. How that look had made you feel cherished and unwanted all at once. And your mother listens. Truly listens.

When you finally sit back, pressing yourself against the couch with a shuddering exhale, you feel—lighter. Not entirely, but enough. Enough to look at her without that old wariness between you.

Your mother studies you for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, she sighs and takes your hands in hers again, holding them with a kind of deliberate care that unsettles you more than her usual sharpness ever did.

“I might have failed you here and there as a mother,” she says at last, her voice filled with a rare honesty. “But this one thing—I might be able to fix.” She squeezes your hands, her grip firm with intent. “We are not supposed to chase them. They are supposed to chase us.” A knowing smile tugs at the corner of her lips as she leans in ever so slightly. “Let him chase you, for once.”

[borkunlimited]

Take Your Time, Miss Deer (Sylus x Reader) - Ch. 1

In a tailor shop tucked in the calmer side of the N109 zone is a little room where all clothes of many different designs come together under the delicate hands of an unassuming deer living in the den of all sorts of beasts and sitting on them is the dragon who wears your clothes.

Your many interactions with Skye, Mr. Sylus’ messenger or-

-Sylus is waiting for you to finally figure out he is playing his own messenger.

A Deer Hybrid! Reader x Dragon Hybrid! Sylus Fic

Tags: Sylus x Reader, Hybrid AU, Suggestive Themes, Fluff, Predator/Prey

Author's Note: I was hesitant to cross-post first but after some thinking, maybe I should.

Enjoy!

AO3

Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 3 / Ch.4 / Ch. 5 / Ch. 6 / Ch. 7 / Ch. 8 / Ch. 9 / Ch. 10 / Side A / Side B

1: My Dearest, Oblivious

The odd little crow came by again.

It was around afternoon when the crow landed on its usual perch on the open window of the studio where you are working and as usual, it carried with it little gifts.

Usually, it brings you beautiful flowers.

Sometimes, it brings you gemstones and ores.

It is such a sweet bird.

You don't know what to call the odd little crow so you just named it 'Daisy' and you even made a little ribbon that you tied around its neck with its name embroidered in it, not too heavy so it can still fly.

Just a little good luck charm.

Daisy only left when it gave you its recent gift on the palm of your hand and after you gave it a quick kiss on its head, you bid it goodbye, telling it to not do anything rash since the little thing is flying around the N109 zone. You can only assume it most likely has a nest around here as well.

Daisy is not the only one who showers you with gifts.

The first patron of this tailor shop, Mr. Sylus, also sends you gifts. He became one of your regular clients as well and you have sewn everything he requested, from suits to casual attires, each piece you worked on diligently.

Every finished work, he sends over a gift. Hairpins, vinyl records, and even tickets once to an opera for you and your father.

The bright red gemstone Daisy brought you cast a myriad of light as you held it up against the sunlight pouring inside your little studio together with the intricate stones that decorated the hairpin you are wearing right now.

You always wondered where the little crow finds such trinkets.

"You should take a break, sweetie."

The unfamiliar voice immediately made you put the little gift that Daisy has brought to you inside your apron pocket, your thoughts cut short.

"Oh, are you lost?", you asked, turning to face your surprise visitor, tucking your hair behind your ear. "The fitting room is just straight ahead, sir."

Every now and then, you get a glimpse of the shop's clients, almost all intimidating like this person before you. He is as imposing as the other men and women your father talks to, being the face of the business side of this humble tailor shop. Your eyes traced the dragon horns on top of his head and his tail while he leaned against the door frame, his crimson gaze trained towards you.

Back then, every fiber of your being will tell you to run, run as fast as you could away from a hybrid like him yet here you are, treating him like you are of the same kind.

"Lost? No, sweetheart. I never get lost," he replied, pushing himself off the door frame.

Sylus had always been meaning to finally visit you himself after Mephisto returned with a ribbon around his neck, bearing a different name.

And it was hilarious how Mephisto seemed to wear your gift and his ‘new name’ with pride.

The door behind Sylus closed with a soft click and it only took him a few strides to stand beside you, his footsteps silent on the hardwood floor and his tail swishing lazily while he studied your little studio. The space was lit by a few windows and the lights of the room cast a warm and cozy glow on the various fabrics and sewing materials scattered on every available surface.

In the midst of it all, is you, an unassuming deer hybrid, your deer ears twitching slightly while you studied him. A small smirk found its way on his face when he noticed the stray threads had found their way around your antlers and his eyes lingered on your neck for a moment.

You’re even adorable up close.

“I am well-aware of where the fitting room is,” he continued, his gaze steady, “But I think I'll stay here a bit longer, if you don't mind.”

“Oh, please make yourself comfortable,” you replied, casting him a small glance before you continue working on sewing together the fabric for Mr. Sylus' suit jacket.

You assume this man is either a client or maybe one of the clients brought him along, knowing that usually all of your customers bring an entourage of their security and sometimes, their guards manage to find their way here in your little studio where you work.

They tell you stories every now and then, ask you about your work, but mostly they content themselves observing while they wait for their bosses to wrap up their business with your father.

“What are you working on, sweetie?”

“A suit.”

“A suit, huh? And who is the client?”

“Mr. Sylus,” you answered, almost carefree, your hands tracing the intricate design you have embroidered in it.

There was a brief frown that crossed his face.

You don’t recognize him.

Sylus had always suspected that you don’t know the face of the man that you’ve been tailoring for all these months. Do you even know what kind of man he is? Or does your beloved father keep you in the dark, letting you stay here in your own world?

A selfish part in him secretly relished it-

-That you didn’t gaze at him like the monster he is.

He leaned against your work table beside you, taking a moment to admire the meticulous and detailed stitches of your work. How your delicate hands moved with such precision and dexterity, the needle an extension of your own body.

But he just had to test waters a bit, see how far he could go in this charade.

“You’re his personal tailor, sweetie?”, he asked, feigning innocence.

“Mr. Sylus said I am,” you nodded, putting together the fabric of the sleeves with pins before you run it in the sewing machine.

Most of your works during your first months of living here in the N109 zone are mostly requests from Mr. Sylus and then from there, the business skyrocketed. Your father said it was your talent but you also believe it was his business acumen that made it stable.

You wouldn’t be here without your father looking after you.

“And is he a good client to you?”, Sylus continued to inquire, crossing his arms while he observed your practiced movements, the way your hands held the fabric with such grace.

He wanted to know. Wanted to hear what you actually think of him.

“He always sends me gifts.”

He watched you tuck your hair behind your ear again, the light from the desk lamp catching the glimmer of the hairpin he has gifted you. It is quite satisfying, being here in person and seeing you wear one of his many gifts to you.

“Gifts, you say?”, he asked, leaning a bit closer, pretending to study your hairpin. "Such as..”, his eyes flicked down to the accessory, “This little thing here, sweetie?”

“It was one of his first gifts,” you nodded.

“His first gift,” he drawled, his lips curling into a smirk, “You do know that he’s a very dangerous man, don’t you, miss seamstress?”

You paused from your work.

People talk so much in the N109 zone and they seem more lax when they enter the shop, laying out all kinds of rumors. One of the main subjects of these rumors is Mr. Sylus, of course. The common theme across all rumors about him is that he is a very dangerous man but other than that, it is very difficult to get a better picture of who he is.

People claim he is quite cordial, as long as you fulfill your side of the bargain. Others disagree, saying that he is a man that takes without remorse.

Every rumor seemed to contradict each other so you simply stopped trying to make sense of them.

“Do you think he is, Mr.-?”, you tilted your head at him, unsure of what to call him.

“Oh, how rude of me,” Sylus said, his tone slightly playful, “I haven't introduced myself, have I, sweetie? I'm Skye.”

He took another step closer, his broad frame now towering over your petite figure, "And to answer your question, yes, he's a dangerous man. But shouldn't you know that already, little doe?"

“But what makes you say that?”, you asked, your brows slightly furrowed and he had to resist the urge to run his fingers on the fur of your deer ears drooping slightly, “Do you work for Mr. Sylus?”

In your eyes, Mr. Sylus is a generous man. Maybe a little shy because you never understood why he never hands you his gifts himself.

Oh, sweetheart.

You really are oblivious to the true nature of the man who wears your clothes and showers you with gifts in return, aren't you?

Sylus chuckled, his tail swishing lazily behind him while he watched you try to piece everything together. You are so gentle, tucked away in this corner of the N109 zone, in this little grove not so far from the den of all beasts, and the most formidable beast of them all is right here, standing right in front of you.

Yet you don’t even flinch. Why is that?

“You could say that, sweetie.”

“Like a bodyguard?”

“Sure, something like that.”

Your gaze shifted from him to the door behind his back. If this man is here, surely, Mr. Sylus is also here as well.

You can actually finally see your first client, the person who gave your father capital to start this shop and-

-you can thank him for all of the gifts.

Before you even had a chance to take a step towards the door, Sylus quickly reached out and grabbed you, his arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you back against him. His tail swished in front of you, blocking your path.

He held you firmly against his front, feeling your small frame press against him as he kept you in place. He could feel the subtle shift in your demeanor and he silently wonders why you are so excited to meet the man behind all the gifts even when he already told you ‘Mr. Sylus’ is a dangerous man.

“Ah ah ah, sweetheart,” he teased, his voice a low, rough murmur. “Where do you think you're going?”

"Mr. Sylus should be in the fitting room since you are here," you replied, trying to pry his grip from you but his hold further tightened instead.

Oh, how amusing you are with that little cute pout on your face.

“Is that why you were so eager to go? To finally see the man behind all the gifts?”, he whispered in your ear, the fur of your deer ear grazing the tip of his nose slightly as it twitched.

“Please let go,” you insisted, still trying to wriggle free from his hold and you slightly tensed up when you felt his tail wrapped around your ankle, the cool, smooth scales making contact with your skin.

“No can do, sweetheart. You're not going anywhere just yet,” he grinned, his voice rough and playful, “And there's no one in the fitting room, sweetie. It's empty.”

"Mr. Sylus.. isn't here?", you asked, confused and slightly disappointed while you paused from trying to pry his fingers off of you.

Technically, he is here. You just think he is someone else.

“No, little doe, I’m afraid he is not,” he answered, his breath warm against your skin.

Sylus watched your hands fall to your sides while your deer ears drooped, feeling the disappointment radiate off of you as you realized your beloved client isn’t present and he slightly frowned at the sight.

Now, he can’t have his favorite tailor all sad.

“What’s this?”, you asked, your eyes moving towards the small and rectangular box handed right in front of you.

“It’s a present, sweetie,” Sylus answered and a small smirk graced his features, “From Mr. Sylus.”

Honestly, he never thought there would be a day he would refer to himself as another person but here he is.

His fingers lingered on your skin for a moment when he gently placed the gift on your hands before crossing his arms, watching you open the cover.

It was then Sylus knew he had to come here just to see that expression you made over and over again.

Your face lit up with joy, an adorable smile spreading across your face as your eyes traced the shape of the newest hairpin he had commissioned from an artisan. Your deer ears perked up in excitement and delight at your newest treasure.

It was all so precious.

“Mr. Sylus sent you here to give me his gifts?”, you asked, slightly giddy as you shift back and forth.

“Yes, sweetheart,” he confirmed, nodding his head slightly, “Mr. Sylus had some things for you and asked me to deliver them.”

“Can you tell him-”

You bite your bottom lip, stopping yourself before the favor you want to ask spilled from your mouth. It feels odd asking one of Mr. Sylus’ men to carry a message for you on your behalf and you don't want it to look like you had a crush on the man whose face you haven't seen.

And you heard he is very old.

You just want to say thank you. That you are very grateful for his generosity to you and your father.

“Go on, sweetheart,” Sylus said, motioning for you to continue, “You can tell me, I'll pass it along.”

“Can you tell him that I love it?”, you asked, holding the box close to your chest.

He gazed at you fondly and for a moment, his smirk was replaced by a small smile upon hearing your request.

Earnest.

Innocent.

There are so many words he can describe you when you hear your sweet voice laced with gratitude.

“Of course, sweetie,” he replied softly, “I’ll make sure to pass that along.”

You don’t see the real him as a monster.

“And can you tell him..”, you spoke slowly, hiding your face with the box to cover the faint blush on your cheeks, “Can you tell him he doesn’t have to send gifts? I don’t want to take advantage of his generosity since he already pays us so much.”

“You're not taking advantage of anything, sweetheart,” Sylus replied, shaking his head slightly at the thought of not sending you gifts anymore, “Gifts are meant to be given and shared, or else they're useless, right?”

Perhaps Mr. Sylus’ messenger is right and you are simply not used to being showered with gifts not just by him but by your other clients who clearly appreciate your works. It is certainly odd that you have received more acknowledgement and praise in this place compared to where your father and you used to live.

Sylus smiled when he heard you softly murmur “You’re right” as you nodded slowly. He wanted to keep talking to you, to watch you work but he took a quick glance at his watch and he knew he had to cut this visit short.

He still had a few matters to attend to.

“Duty calls, sweetie,” he said, pushing himself off your desk and straightening his clothes.

His hand rested on the handle of the door and he turned briefly to you before he stepped out. He took in your form, your petite frame, your hairpin, and the bouquet of flowers he gave to you last week on the vase by the window, slightly wilted.

He will have to bring you fresh ones next time. Personally.

“Until then, little seamstress.”

“Until then, Skye.”

────────────────────

Mephisto is not an ordinary crow.

Sylus had created the mechanical crow from scratch. His feathered companion is programmed for intelligence gathering and had followed every task he assigned to it to the letter from watching over any of his business associates and his men to recently, bringing you gifts.

Initially, Sylus will send Mephisto every now and then, letting it carry little trinkets he thinks will brighten up your day but lately, the crow is doing it to his own accord, going as far as pilfering anything it thinks you will like from his various collections. Not that he minds.

“Still wearing your gift, I see,” Sylus commented, his eyes landing on the crow sitting on his perch inside his office.

His fingers brushed the length of the white ribbon tied around its neck and Mephisto tilted his head, letting out a caw as if telling him that he deserved to show off the gift you had tied around its neck just like how Sylus wears all the clothes you tailored for him with confidence.

“Look at you, so entitled,” Sylus pointed out, giving the end of the little ribbon a gentle tug, his finger grazing on the embroidered letters, “She named you ‘Daisy’, you know.”

Mephisto let out a loud caw this time, fully aware of its other name and telling him that it is the best name while it continued to preen under his touch.

Traitorous bird.

Since when did the loyalties of his own mechanical crow shifted from him to you, the little seamstress? Unbelievable.

Sylus’ thoughts were interrupted when Mephisto let out a soft beep, its wings flapping to sit on his shoulder and he raised an eyebrow, looking at his creation with wry amusement.

“What? No more quips for me?”, he asked sarcastically.

Mephisto tilted its head and there was a certain glint on its eyes, excited on what it is about to show to its master who has been pining for you for months.

It projected a hologram in front of him and Sylus can’t help but snort at the scene replaying before him.

In the glass of the window of Mephisto’s usual perch on your studio was his creation’s reflection and he watched as you pressed a chaste kiss on the top of its head before letting it fly away, bidding it to take care and visit soon.

Of course the bird is getting kisses.

Perhaps he had given too much autonomy over Mephisto because he is certain it is intentionally making him irritated, as absurd as it sounds.

He is jealous. Over a damn bird. His own creation. That he modified the program to look after you.

“You’re really enjoying all this attention, aren’t you?”, he asked, glancing at the crow who just ruffled his feathers in an almost smug manner.

“Ungrateful bird.”

Yet, the gentle scratch he gave under Mephisto’s beak says otherwise.

────────────────────

AO3

Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 3 / Ch.4 / Ch. 5 / Ch. 6 / Ch. 7 / Ch. 8 / Ch. 9 / Ch. 10 / Side A / Side B

[justastraymoa]

Yet Unnamed

A soulmark/bond/mate fic ot8 x y/n

Masterlist | Ch 2.

A/N: I am still working on the last bit of Unwilling Alpha, but needed a break to think how I wanted to end it so I started typing this one up.

If you read the teaser reread this first part. I changed some things and added things.

Warnings for Yet Unnamed: Kidnapping, cuffs, injuries, drugging by injection, mentions of needles, lots of swearing, kissing, fluff, angst, idiots in love all around.

First chapter is really long because I couldn't find a good stopping place. Enjoy.

○

You sat in the backseat of a vehicle, metal cuffs cutting into your wrists and blindfold and gag pulling your hair by the knots.

To be fair, they only tightened the cuffs so much because you broke out of both sets of zip ties, they put you in earlier. They were officially annoyed as hell. But you weren’t going to just sit back quietly while you were kidnapped!

But they wised up and got themselves metal cuffs somewhere so now you were stuck until you found another opening.

You tried to keep track of your route in your head. You were in another country for sure. And judging by the Korean your 4 kidnappers kept speaking and the roughly 12-hour flight, you were in Korea. You lost count on the flight a couple times, but you were close. Maybe an hour or two hours, at most, off. Accurate enough for a good guess.

Unfortunately, by the time you came to a stop and the car shut off you were hopelessly lost. You had no hope of finding your way back to the airport even if you did somehow escape your captors. You were so turned around that you couldn’t even tell what direction you were facing now.

The door to your right opened and someone gripped your upper arm roughly and pulled. Immediately you started fighting. You had the entire car ride to rest and now you were ready to give them hell all over again. They would earn your captivity, or you would earn your escape.

“Don’t you ever give up?” A relatively high-pitched male asked through his teeth. He was farther away so he wasn’t the one holding you, fighting to get you into wherever you were going.

You grunted curses at them in English and Korean through your gag as you were dragged from the car and fell hard to the cold ground.

“Just give it to her now. It will make this easier.” A gruffer voice in your ear ordered.

His words spurred you to fight even harder in a panic. Give you what? Drug you? Knock you out so you were easier to handle? Fuck that! Who knows what they would do to you once you were out and couldn’t fight. And who knows where they would take you! You wouldn’t even have a semblance of how long you were out to know what time it was!

Another set of hands joined in restraining you, grabbing at your flailing legs to stop your kicking. You continued to fight, screaming through the gag as loud as you could and hoping someone – anyone – would hear you and come to help.

No one did. Your head was roughly jerked to the side, making your neck crack painfully, then a sharp painful prick as a needle was stabbed hard into the side of your neck. It was only seconds before the world you could hear around you started to muffle and your body became heavy and sluggish. You couldn’t remember how to find your legs to keep kicking and fighting. You couldn’t even keep your head from flopping uselessly back.

You remember very little after that. You were in and out of consciousness. There were voices and something was placed into your right hand, and it was forcefully moved as someone talked close to your ear. You couldn’t make any words out. At some point, way after you lost track of any sense of time or place the gag, and blindfold were removed and the handcuffs gently unlocked and taken off. You remember the too bright light after being blindfolded for so long and the relief of having the painful cuffs taken off.

There were warm hands on your face, gentle fingers rubbing your sore wrists. Blurry figures closer to you and raised voices. It got harder and harder to remember why you were fighting to stay awake. You were so tired, so heavy. The darkness and liquid in your mind were wo inviting. Promising a moment of peace and ease. And soon you finally gave up and let the blackness take hold. Floating in the pool in your mind.

Forcibly dragging yourself out of the pool an unknown amount of time later, the first thing you became aware of is that you were laying on your back on a soft surface. The second was a gentle brush across your forehead and voices arguing nearby in Korean.

You sprang up and away from the unknown fingers touching you, ready to fight to escape again. Still half awake and unable to find your balance you stumbled towards a door, not paying attention to anyone or anything around you.

A big man next to the door stepped in front of it and reached out to grab your upper arm tightly in the same move.

“Lemmego.” You slurred out trying to pull your arm from his grasp and get away.

“Hey, hey, hey, let her go!” Someone ordered behind you. You flinched away from that voice as well, overwhelmed, surrounded, and confused about what was happening. But the big guy obeyed the second voice and let you go, staying firm in front of the door.

You backed away and hunched in on yourself, trying to wake yourself up the rest of the way, gripping your head and shaking it, trying to get your thoughts and memories in order. What was happening? Where are you? Who else was here? You stumbled when your heel hit a wall unexpectedly.

“Go slow. You’re okay.” The second voice coaxed as hands entered your vision reaching towards you but not touching you. Just ready to catch and help you if you needed it.

You glanced up to see a very familiar face belonging to the hands, and you were even more confused. “What in the fuck is happening?” You were happy my words came out clearer than before, loud and firm, even if your mouth and throat were so dry that the short sentence made you cough painfully.

A second, very familiar man handed you a small cup of water, making sure it was steady in your hands, but being respectful about your space at the same time. “Drink, we will explain everything. You’re safe here.” The words were glittered with an Australian accent, making your ears twitch and brain spark.

As you slowly sipped at the water, you took in more of who was in the room with you. There were 4 unfamiliar faces, security from the looks of em. One stood in front of the only door in the room, blocking anyone from getting out or in, the others were in corners of the room, watching you very closely. An older man, JYP, who you were only mildly surprised to see at this point. And 3 members of Stray Kids. Han and Felix were closest to you, hovering close and looking worried. BangChan was currently arguing with JYP, hushed and inaudible from this distance, but with the way they occasionally gestured in your direction you could guess what it was about.

Completing your survey of the room you let your eyes land on Felix – who had promised you an explanation – and raised your eyebrows expectantly and waited, silently contemplating the strange warm safe feeling in your chest when you looked at him and Han.

He laughed awkwardly. “Hi, um…I’m Felix. Ah, this is Han.”

“No shit.” You responded. You were meeting your favorite idols in the worst possible way. you have been kidnapped, drugged, bruised, and god knows what else. My sarcasm and snark will not be contained.

Han rubbed his palms on his thighs in nervousness and Felix glanced behind him to BangChan, possibly looking to him for help.

“I want to go home.” You announced loud enough for BangChan and JYP to hear you clearly.

JYP immediately snapped his attention to me mid-sentence. “No, you will not leave.”

You backed flush against the wall and away from the room full of men in front of you. “Are you telling me Stray Kids and JYP have kidnapped me and are now holding me hostage?” You asked voice going up and down in pitch as the fear coursed through me and turned my blood cold. “What are you hoping for? I’m no one. And I have no family to pay a ransom.”

“You aren’t a hostage. You belong to us now.” JYP responded. Somehow this was even worse. The surety and finality of his words made a sob start to build in your chest.

“Fuck! No, you don’t!” BangChan was quick to correct, eyes wide. “You can’t just say shit like that!” He snapped at JYP. JYP shrugged unconcerned with the matter and unapologetic.

You couldn’t help the anxiety and fear filled tears that formed and fell from your eyes. You were so overwhelmed with everything that had happened and now you were being held against your will in some kind of nightmare scenario that should be saved only for fanfiction.

“No, no, no, no! Don’t cry!” Han immediately started fretting around. He pulled several tissues from a box on a side table and patted at your cheeks gently, either ignoring or not noticing you flinch away.

“She signed the soul marriage certificates already and they have been turned in. Its official.” JYP argued with BangChan, ignoring your tears altogether.

“I did what?” You asked sniffing. You didn’t remember signing anything and you definitely didn’t remember meeting your soulmates. You scratched absently at the 8 banded mark you were born with on your thigh.

You were always glad it was easily covered and hidden. As happy as you were to have 8 soulmates, having a soulmate mark and bond was getting rarer and rarer as time passed. People out there were in mixed reactions to them now. Some were indifferent, some hated anyone with one, some hated anyone without one, and some were extremely and sometimes violently jealous of anyone with one. They blamed their last soul incarnations for breaking the soul bond their souls had once had.

“You drugged her and forced her to sign! She doesn’t even remember doing it J!” BangChan was getting exceedingly angry and frustrated with the whole messed up situation and you could see it on his face. It made your leg twitch towards him, automatically wanting to go and comfort him. The feeling confused you. Maybe it was just because you were such a big fan and hated seeing him upset. (Even if it was secretly also very hot sometimes.)

Felix revealed his own soulmark, which matched yours perfectly. You stared at it dumbfounded. No fucking way were you Lee freaking Felixs soul mate!

Wait a whole fucking minute!

It was well known that Stray Kids were a soul group, unfinished, but all a part of the same soul bond. If Felix was one of your 8 total soul mates, then that means that the other members were too. And that just wasn’t possible. No way was that possible!

“We are your soul mates. Surprise!” Felix said doing small jazz hands and making the Lee Know ��surprise’ meme pop into your head. You shook it out, now was not the time for Stray Kids memes!

You could feel your jaw drop open and your brain fizzled and went out like a candle. Completely stopped working, frozen on the words Felix just casually threw out and the soul mark he carried with him.

Behind Felix, JYP huffed. “You know why we needed to find her. We discussed this.”

“We discussed searching for our 9th member, not kidnapping and drugging them!” BangChan was nearly yelling how.

Your fear was slowly morphing into anger and disbelief as you got more and more information on what had led up to this moment. You were being used as some publicity stunt for JYP and Stray Kids. They didn’t care that you had spent the last god knows how long scared out of your gourd and fighting for your life as you were bound, blinded, silenced, and whisked away on a plane where they could take you to a place where no one would know you and know that you needed help. They didn’t care that you injured yourself fighting to get away even when you knew you were outnumbered and outgunned. They didn’t care that you were drugged, last thought being how you were going to be raped and sold.

No, they only cared about their views. Their numbers. How much money they could get. They only cared about the benefits for them, they thought nothing of anyone or anything else.

“She looks like Lino when he’s mad.” Felix whispered to Han who just nodded with wide eyes.

You ignored them for now, focused on the two people in charge across the room. “You mean to fucking tell me that I have been, kidnapped, bruised, and drugged all because you wanted some media fucking attention!” Your voice cracked in anger multiple times.

JYP still looked unapologetic as he looked at you bored. “Stray Kids is the largest only bonded K-pop group right now. And being a completed one would set us up.”

BangChan slapped his forehead. “You are not helping the situation!”

You balled up your hands, the now empty cup being crushed in your fist. You were ready to start throwing punched on principle. Mainly towards JYP.

BangChan grabbed a chair and sat down facing me. Han and Felix followed his lead, sitting in the chairs they had vacated when you launched off the couch earlier. “Please sit. I’m Chan. Or Chris. Whatever you are comfortable with.” He gestured to the pleather couch you had woken up on.

You glanced at the couch automatically but didn’t move from your spot against the wall to sit down. You may not be as afraid and confused as before, but you were still being held against your will by very powerful people. You had no doubt that they could make you disappear, and no one would ever ask any questions or even suspect them.

“Please. I know this situation is out of control but let me explain.” BangChan pleaded with you. “After that if you want to leave, I will personally make sure you get home safely and are left alone. I give you my word.” Chan tried to bargain with me.

Huffing shortly, you sat heavily on the couch, tossing the crushed cup on the side table. You sat as far away from the three of them as you could and on the edge of the seat, ready to move at any wrong movement from them. No way would they get a jump on you again. You would let them try and explain their way out of this, then take Chan up on his offer and go home, questioning ever listening to Stray Kids ever again.

Okay no, you wouldn’t question that. You still love the music and there was no way you would be able to just not listen. Their songs occupy most of your playlists and are all top 5 of your favorite songs. Their music was quite literally a part of your everyday life. Woven into your existence and history.

Chan let out a gentle sigh and smiled at you thankfully. “First off, I am so sorry. About everything. Its true that we were starting to really look for you, but it was never supposed to be like this.”

“If we did it your way, we never would have found her!” JYP put in, arms crossed and rolling his eyes.

“And now we may lose her because you just had to do it your way.” Felix snapped back. He immediately looked shocked at himself for speaking out like that and if you were in any other situation you would laugh. As it was you are so messed up in the head that you felt the tiny bubble of humor wanting to break free and make your lips tilt up.

Chan ignored them both. JYP wanted to find you for media attention. We would be the largest completed and only bonded in the industry. It would be huge for Stray Kids and by default JYPE.”

“You are not making this any better. At all.” You informed him. He was only making them seem worse and worse.

Han nodded in agreement with me. “Honestly, you are making us sound horrible.”

“We kinda are.” Felix grumbled. Chan absently reached over and rubbed his back to comfort him. You were again struck with a fluttering as you wanted to fangirl over the sweet moment.

“We weren’t just looking for you for that. It was only a bonus for Stray Kids. A means to get JYP to lend us resources to help in the search. We wanted to complete the bond. Desperately.” Chan stressed. “We have been feeling your absence for years and it was starting to get to us. The need to complete the bond and be all together was overwhelming.”

“We were going to woo you.” Han agreed again.

You almost snorted at his old-fashioned words. “Woo me. Wow. Well, you did a great job. Really. I’m so wooed right now its insane.” Your sarcasm dripped from your words like liquid.

“We didn’t know JYP would go this far, or we would have stopped him. Everyone is super mad. And worried. You were really out of it earlier.” Felix explained. He bit his lip and wrung his hands. You had the feeling he wanted to reach out to you. And normally your STAY heart would jump (then swoon) at the chance, but not right now. Not under these circumstances. Even if the pull to do so made the muscles in your arms clench.

“Bin was ready to start hitting the asses who bruised you up. It took 3 of us to calm him down.” All 3 of them looked down at your wrists.

You looked too. You hadn’t done a physical inventory since you woke up. You were just happy you still had clothes on. But now you looked. Your hands and wrists were covered in nasty looking bruises and red welts from the cuffs and zip ties. Your upper arms had long slim finger shaped bruises going around them in several spots and some shallow scratches from nails. There were various over scrapes and bruises that you assumed you got while fighting. You lift a hand to your neck where you remember the needle jabbing into your skin. You felt the sting of a bruise and the irritation of the injection site. “What was I drugged with?” Its not like you would know what it was, but somehow just knowing would make you feel better.

JYP snorted. “Doesn’t matter. Even if you go to the hospital, it’s undetectable. You can’t prove we drugged you.”

You scowled at the side of the mans head. “I don’t like you.” You announced plainly. Childish? Yes. But worth it. It needed said. The man was a creepy ass dick!

Felix let out a barking laugh while both Chan and Han ducked their heads to hide their amusement.

“I didn’t ask, and I don’t care.” The man retorted. Now you did laugh. The whole of this mans life revolved around getting attention.

“Yeah, you do. You crave attention like a whore. It kills you.”

“Alright, alright! This isn’t helping. Can we talk to her alone?” Chan cut in before JYP could respond to you.

JYP stormed from the room without a word, almost shoving past the security guard still standing in front of the door. The security all went with him, slamming the door on the way out.

The entire room seemed to relax as soon as they were all gone. The tension lessened by waves.

“What’s your name?” Chan asked.

“Y/n. F/n L/n.” You respond automatically even as you suspected they were all already very aware of what your name was and just wanted to be polite. The act of being normal humans and not idols did actually help put you at ease despite the situation still being sketchy.

“Pretty name. Its very nice to finally meet you, y/n. And I really hope you will give us a chance to show you we aren’t horrible people who kidnap others.” Chan had a hopeful look on his face. And as appealing as it sounded, you didn’t think it would be a logical decision to stay.

Now Felix did reach forward and grab your hands, gently and loosely so you could easily escape his grip if you wanted. He looked a little crazed gazing up at you with wide, watery, pleading eyes. “Please give us a chance. Meet the others, stay for a couple weeks! We can find you a bed in our apartment!” He begged. “Let us make this up to you!”

“We could also put you up in a hotel if you are more comfortable putting some space between us.” Han added. Felix looked at him scandalized, but didn’t argue like you knew he wanted to.

You watch Felix trace circles on the back of your bruised hands gently so he didn’t hurt you. Your ultimate life goal had always been to find your soul group. And now here they are – well, some of them. And you could feel the sense of comfort and home just from the 3 soul mates here now. People say that when the bond is complete, it's unlike any feeling of comfort and completeness you have ever felt before or will ever feel again. They say that having an incomplete bond is like the feeling of phantom limb pain. It's there, but not there, and it hurts.

Since you had never met any of them the feeling of emptiness was normal to you. You didn’t even notice it, even if sometimes you felt like you were always searching for something or craving something you could never quite reach. The 8 of them having an almost complete bond would cause enough phantom limb pain to drive anyone to drastic measures after long enough. Not that that excused anything that was done to you over the last day or so.

If I left them now it would hurt not only you, but them as well. And it would possibly break the bond forever. It would be the end of this soul group in any incarnation of our souls.

At the same time, since this is the way it went down, how could you stay. You knew what would happen. It wouldn’t be just about your life being flipped upside down. Or dropping everything and moving to Korea. STAY would find out about the kidnapping. They are the best detectives out there. You want something found, ask a STAY. And it would all be over, for all of us.

That being said, now that you know the feeling of being near a soul bond mate, could you go without it? Would you be able to survive the pain. They would have each other. You would have no one. You would go back to no one. You would go back to no family, a dead-end job that pays shit and you hate. And an overpriced crappy apartment you couldn’t stand.

You were smart. If you could stay hidden from STAY and dispatch long enough, you could find a way around the negative start to this whole situation. A way to permanently cover up the kidnapping and bury it forever. It’s not like anyone would ever report you missing. You had no friends; you hated everyone in your life. Barely tolerated them. And the little family you once had were all gone now. It was just you. And since you were a no call no-show at work, you didn’t even have a job to go back to anymore. Maybe a new adventure is needed. But on your terms.

“I don’t want to have to deal with JYP alone, ever. That man gives off paedo vibes like nothing else. He is creepy and gross.” This was non-negotiable. You couldn’t stomach the man.

Chan nodded. “We can work with that.”

You took a deep breath and squeezed Felixs hands still holding yours. “Then ill stay.” You held up a finger as they all smiled widely. “But it has to be kept quiet until we figure out a way to keep the kidnapping a secret.”

They nodded. Felix squealed and swung my hands. Han’s smile reached both ears and showed lots of gum. And Chan looked deeply relieved.

○

Ko-fi fund

General Taglist @stellasays45 @beebee18 @weird-bookworm @velvetmoonlght

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(If you aren't tagged, I couldn't tag you for some reason. Happy-jj wasn't sure if you wanted to be added or not, lmk if you want removed via dm)

[lily-jaxk]

MC Twin AU - CALEB'S Spitfire [4]

When you arrive at the airport, just as the text stated, Caleb was there.

He had his hat on, his very familiar (to you at least, but you suppose you had to act like this was new to you) Colonel's attire, and sleek black gloves on his hands. Ignoring the driver as he opened the door for you, you accepted your handbag and marched over to your purple eyed boyfriend.

You wanted to kiss him. You wanted to push him into an empty room and tear off his clothes.

But the only thing you could do as you finally got close to him, was place your bag down and slap him across the face.

His cheek grew red from the impact, but he barely made a sound. "Months." You start, gripping the front of his suit to drag him down to your level. "Months have gone by when I thought you were fucking dead. And suddenly you send me a text and I see you're alive!? What the absolute fuck Caleb!?"

Your grip tightens on his suit, and you glare up at him even as he cups your cheeks with his gloved hand, resting his forehead against yours. "I'm sorry." He says, and you glare even harder.

"I'm going to punch you."

"Go ahead. Punch me as much as you want spitfire." He rubs your cheek gently, a soft smile on his face. "I'm just glad you're ok and here, with me."

"Stop agreeing with me and being so sappy you bastard!" You snap, struggling in his hold as he drags you into a hug. "Ugh! Lemme go!"

He chuckled softly, placing a kiss on the top of your head. "You can yell at me all you want spitfire, but not here. As much as I want you to, I am still the Colonel, and many eyes are still watching me."

You huff again but relax, realizing he was right. This wasn't the time nor place to beat him up. "Whatever. There better be food on the plane."

"Only the best for you."

When you arrive at his place, you drop your bag on his couch and move to where you assumed his kitchen was, using your limited understanding of playing his Myths and Cards in the game to help guide you. "I'm still mad at you." you begin, watching as the cabinet opens and a glass flies into your hand. You turn around to see a bottle of orange juice open by itself, then tilt as the liquid poured into your cup. Stupid Caleb and his stupid Evol and his stupid understanding of what you wanted. How can you be mad at him when he does cute shit like this!?

"So." You turn around to face him, gulping down your drink so you can distract your mind. "Wanna explain how you're alive!?" You slam the cup down on the counter table, anger making your blood boil. You don't know why you were so angry, you knew he was alive. you knew he was fine. Still. . . . still . . . . what if you dating him made things worse? What if he actually got hurt!?

Tears suddenly dripped out of your eyes as you helplessly stared at him. "You . . . you died Caleb! You died and you left me behind! What is wrong with you!?"

"I had to act like I was semi-ok in front of MC! She was devastated! She lost her best friend, and I lost my boyfriend, yet here you are fucking alive!?"

You close your eyes as you try and wipe your tears away, not noticing him walking towards you until you feel his arms wrap around you. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, rubbing your back gently as you continued to cry. "I can't tell you why I left, because it's related to. . . . well a lot of things, but I want you to know, that each time I closed my eyes, each time I woke up, each time I went down to the Deepspace Tunnel, you were on my mind spitfire." He kisses your head, breathing in deeply. "I've missed you so much spitfire, and this time I promise nothing, and I mean nothing will drive us apart again."

"I will never let you go."

You sniffled and shoved your face deeper into his chest, choosing to remain silent in the meantime as you continued to sob. After a few minutes though, a small sigh escapes your lips. "If you pull a stunt like this again, I will kill you myself."

A fond chuckle leaves his lips, and he pushes you away gently so he can cup your cheeks. "Noted," he murmured, then pressed his lips against yours, your first kiss after months of being apart.

When you woke up the next day, it was to the smell of pancakes. Grumbling under your breath, you pick up your shirt and place it on, waddling over to the kitchen to see Caleb by the stove pouring more batter into the frying pan, a plate of perfectly cooked pancakes on the side. You pick up the fork and begin to dig in, humming at the taste. "Good to know that your dying didn't take away your skill of cooking."

"I practiced extra harder for you spitfire." Caleb leaned towards you to press a small kiss on your cheek. "Eat up, you're going to need all the energy you can get."

"Yeah yeah..." you mumble, shoving more food in your mouth. "Oh hey, where's my phone? It should have woken me up with my alarm."

Caleb turns back to the stove. "I'll get you a new one."

You pause your chewing, quickly swallowing it so you can talk clearly. "What do you mean by that?"

"I'm keeping your phone hostage."

"Why?"

He turns his head to give you a gentle smile, though his eyes have darkened. "You don't need that phone anymore, trust me, spitfire."

Ok, what the fuck?!

Taglist! - @sleepydang @junrui @animecrazy76 @reni502 @yjhcheri @sanstype @smoophie @young-adult-summer @l4venderia

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | Caleb | 18+

[ckret2]

Chapter 71 of human Bill Cipher trying to debate his way out of still being the Mystery Shack's prisoner. Soos has found the stolen Journal 4 in Bill's possession and has to decide what to do about it in light of everything else he's learned about Bill lately.

[*this chapter was renumbered to squeeze in the Axolotl plot arc! If you. Haven't read it yet, go back to ch 61 and read it!]

Soos stared dumbfounded at the journal with a 4 on the cover that he'd pulled from Bill's hiding place. Ford had lost Journal 4 last fall—he'd said gnomes had stolen it. How in the world had Bill gotten it?

Soos sat in the attic window seat and flipped through it. The first few pages were Ford's journal entries—his observations of the dimensional rips they were glueing shut in Gravity Falls post-Weirdmageddon, a hand-drawn map highlighting various places around the globe he wanted to investigate, a few drawings and observations of paranormal beings he hadn't seen his first time in town, half a sketch of a gnome that ended with a jagged scribble across the page followed by a page that said "Shmebulock" over and over.

And then a page that said, in an unfamiliar handwriting of jagged, narrow gray letters: "CURSED BOOK! If your name is Mabon Mason Pines, STOP READING NOW or ENJOY YOUR HEX!"

Bill had written page after page of some weird code of gray and yellow-green dots and dashes. A few sentences in English—every one of them was a threatening message to Ford. "Everything would have been fantastic if you'd just helped me finish, Fordsy." "You'll regret not siding with me when you had the chance." "You should have known better than to let your idiot brother turn you against me." "Sixer, you're lying to yourself every time you say you never worshiped me, and you know it. You spent the first third of your life running away from the god you were raised with and the second third chasing after me. Don't waste your last third denying it. YOU'RE MINE." A small, worrying diagram of what looked like the interdimensional portal. And a sticker.

Wait, hold on.

A sticker. One of Mabel's. The rest of the page was the same as the others, the two-tone dots and dashes, except for the sticker, and an arrow drawn from one paragraph to the sticker.

A yellow smiley, its round edges filled in with black marker to make a triangle, over the words "Good job!"

Soos stared at the sticker.

####

A couple of weeks ago, Melody had texted to let Soos know that there was a mess in the upstairs bathroom, and the kids said they'd been fighting a werewolf ghost.

When Soos had gotten home the next morning, Melody had pulled him aside and quietly told him she hadn't wanted to worry him and the Stans, but she did not think it was a werewolf ghost.

When Soos saw the bathroom, he didn't think it was a werewolf ghost either.

It was a scene from a horror movie. Menacing magical sigils painted all over the walls in blood and toothpaste, Bill's zodiac painted on one mirror, the other mirror broken, glass and water all over the floor. It looked like the site of a really wet demon summoning. This contained none of the hallmarks of ghostly or werewolfish activity. Why would Bill do this?

Soos was kind of reluctant to ask Bill. Bill still sorta scared him sometimes. Sure, he looked like a lost 18-year-old, but Soos knew what teens were like in a fight. So he asked Mabel instead.

Mabel pursed her lips uncomfortably. "Ask Dipper."

So Soos asked Dipper.

Dipper winced and. "Promise you won't get mad."

Soos considered that. "Yeah, I guess that's a fair deal."

Dipper confessed that Bill got accidentally locked in the upstairs bathroom for like a whole day, because he and Mabel didn't hear him yelling. Not because they were out of the house when they shouldn't have been. They were just... somewhere else in the house. Doing something loud. For the whole day.

While Bill was trapped alone.

####

Soos had vented to Abuelita about cleaning the bathroom. Like sure, he got Bill was annoyed about being stuck, but that seemed excessive.

Abuelita had made the observation that sometimes people in profoundly bleak and oppressive situations would just... destroy whatever was around them. Like punching a hole in the wall or snapping a pencil when you were angry, but much more so. Not because they wanted their surroundings to be destroyed, but because that was the last and only thing they had power over, and they needed to feel like they were in control of something. Even if that thing was merely changing their environment from ordered to chaotic.

Bill didn't have control over very much. He probably hadn't since he died. Soos didn't know what kind of space triangle afterlife Bill had been in before he showed up as Toga Lady, but it couldn't have been great if he'd come straight back here.

Soos could remember the one time weeks ago he'd let Bill into the bathroom to shower and forgotten to come back and let him out. How Bill had screamed so all the Mystery Shack's tourists could hear; how he'd seethed in Soos's face, how he'd said he'd rather blow their collective cover and throw them all on the mercy of the town's law enforcement than remain locked in the bathroom a second longer than they'd agreed upon. Soos had thought Bill was just impatient and hotheaded.

Standing in the bathroom, looking at the material evidence of Bill's claustrophobic terror—the broken glass, the spilled blood—he wondered.

####

The same day, he had felt a breeze in the gift shop and found the trap doors to the roof left open. He'd climbed up, shut them, and in between tours he'd visited his office to check yesterday's security tapes. 

He saw Wendy coming into the shack to hang out the morning before. That was fine. Soos had discovered she did that from time to time on days the shack was closed, but she wasn't doing anything bad and she hadn't brought it up yet, so Soos didn't bring it up either. Maybe she just needed a private place to hang. Teen stuff. He was just glad Wendy felt that safe at the Mystery Shack. Maybe she'd just gone up to hang out on the roof and forgot to shut the trap doors...

And then, right there on screen, Soos saw Bill letting himself into the gift shop, through the door, which he shouldn't be able to open. A chill shot up Soos's back. The door curse was their only real means of containing Bill. If he could use doors now, he was out, there was no way they could trap him without doing something crazy like locking him in the bunker and hoping he didn't kill himself.

Or could he use doors? Soos thought back to the frantic messages on the bathroom wall, written in Bill's own blood—his desperation over being unable to escape. Maybe he could use doors but not doorknobs. That was okay, maybe?

On tape, he saw Wendy run into Bill. He saw Wendy take Bill onto the roof. Out in the open air, where he could just... do whatever. But he didn't do whatever. Soos fast-forwarded the tape until Wendy and Bill came back down, and Bill simply returned to the living room.

He'd had the perfect opportunity to shove Wendy off the roof or escape. He didn't take it.

If all Bill was using his new door skills for was ducking into the gift shop and hanging out on the roof with Wendy, Soos thought maybe it would be kinda mean to take that away from him. There weren't a lot of other places Bill could go in the shack. (Soos kept seeing the blood on the bathroom wall. He kept trying to imagine what kind of helplessness would drive someone that far.) Maybe Bill needed the open air.

So Soos had put the security tape on his desk, not sure what to do about it.

####

A couple of day after that, while Soos was restocking the gift shop in between waves of tourists, he'd seen Wendy reading an oddly dull-looking booklet instead of one of her usual magazines. He tilted his head to glance at the cover. The Oregon state driving manual. "Aw dude, gonna get your learner's permit?"

"Think so," Wendy said. "Don't tell my dad."

Soos remembered Wendy groaning about her dad wrangling her into doing errands if she ever got her license. "Your secret is safe with me."

"Thanks."

"What made you change your mind? You were totally against getting a license a week ago."

"It's probably those stupid Gleeful Auto commercials that have been worming into my dreams." Wendy laughed. "I'm just waking up in the morning like, neeeed caaar."

"Oh yeah! Heh, funny coincidence, Melody says she had a dream like that too. Sometimes she gets these like, dreams about monsters watching her in bed? But one time, the monster was Bud Gleeful, whispering in her ear about a big car sale. She totally woke up laughing!"

"Ha! Annoying car commercials should be banned, man. Why do we need to be told multiple times a day to spend thousands of dollars?"

"You make a salient point."

They fell silent for a moment as Wendy read a couple more paragraphs. Then she said, "That, plus... I was talking to Goldie the other day."

Soos looked up from the t-shirt he'd been putting on a clothes hanger. "Oh. Yeah?"

"About where we wanna go when we get out of town."

"Huh." Very casually, Soos asked, "What did Goldie say?"

"He wants to go on some big vacation. Like a world cruise or something, I dunno."

"Huh." Soos wondered if that was true. He tried to imagine Bill Cipher as a tourist. Floating triangle in a Hawaiian shirt with a camera hanging from a strap and a fanny pack. What kind of places would he even visit? Soos bet he wanted to visit the pyramids. Heh. (Was that stereotyping? Maybe that was stereotyping.)

"And I told him I'm moving to Portland for college."

"Oh, hey, I didn't know you were thinking about college."

"I... actually, never told anybody else before," Wendy said. "I've been thinking about it for years, but part of me felt like it's just a fantasy? But Goldie said when he got out of high school, he did the same thing—moved to another town, made a new group of friends, all that. And... I don't know, actually talking to him out loud about it just... made it feel real, you know? So I thought, if I'm gonna move to Portland, I should probably start planning for it. Starting with how I'm getting there." She held up the driving manual.

Soos nodded slowly. "Huh. Yeah. That's a pretty mature way to look at it."

And that was what Bill was talking to Wendy about on the roof? Just... listening to a teen vent and helping her figure out her future?

And so, Soos took the security tape off his desk and put it in a drawer.

####

A few days later, Soos had heard the downstairs bathroom sink running for several minutes, assumed someone had forgotten to turn it off, and went to turn it off himself—and had caught Bill, in the dark, half undressed, washing himself in the sink.

After Soos had backed out and profusely apologized, he'd asked, "But—how come you're washing in the sink? I can let you in the upstairs bathroom if you need—"

"Worry about your own grooming habits and leave mine alone," Bill snapped. "As long as I don't smell, what do you humans care how I do it. Soap is soap and water is water."

It took Soos several days to realize he didn't think Bill had had a shower since he got locked in the bathroom. And nobody had noticed, because Bill made sure nobody noticed, because he'd been keeping himself clean in the bathroom he couldn't get locked in.

####

Dipper would go all summer without showering if he could get away with it; Stan showered like once a week and had constant old man smell; Abuelita also showered weekly and had a more refined old lady smell; Soos didn't know when Ford showered, but he'd never caught him doing it and Ford always smelled weirdly like burned hair. Soos showered almost daily during tourist season—that Mr. Mystery suit was hot—but outside that might go three days at a time. Mabel showered near daily.

From what Soos had observed, Bill was showering like, at least twice a week. He didn't know how often Bill cleaned himself in the sink in between.

That meant he was showering more often than two-thirds of the house.

Yet he was the only one in the house living under the threat of being thrown in the tub at 3 a.m. if someone decided he hadn't bathed enough for their tastes.

The reason Bill had refused to shower during his first week of imprisonment was so he could use the condition of his body as a bargaining chip—with no physical possessions in the world, his own body was the only bargaining chip he had—to try to buy a little more dignity. In return, his captors had taken more dignity away. They permitted Bill less autonomy over how to take care of his body than the household's children had.

Dipper had never gotten forced into a bathroom he couldn't let himself out of.

####

The day after the eclipse, Ford had pulled Soos aside and said quietly, "Soos, as soon as you have some time—could you repair the door to the kids' room? Before the end of the day? The latch has been broken since the tooth fairy's attack."

"Uh, sure, I can probably do that," Soos said. "How come?" The latch had been broken for a couple weeks, and the Pines hadn't been worried about it before.

"Right now, the door can swing freely with just a push," Ford said. "I think Bill's figured out how to use that to get in. Which is worrisome, since he shouldn't be able to use any doors..."

"O-oh." Soos thought about the swinging door into the gift shop. "Yeah, uh... sounds bad. Byyy the way—how'd you figure out he knows how to use the door?"

"Dipper says Bill somehow got in and out of the room last night," Ford said. "Mabel fell asleep in the living room and Bill carried her upstairs. I really don't like the thought of Bill being able to get his hands on the kids while they're asleep and defenseless."

Ford was mad at Bill for tucking a kid into bed? That was the big red flag? "No problem! I'll fix the door right after work."

The next time Soos visited his office, he took the security tape out of his drawer, rewound it, stuck it back into the tape recorder, and let that day's security camera footage overwrite and erase the evidence of Bill's visit to the gift shop.

####

And now, today, carrying Journal 4 in both hands, Soos trudged downstairs, trying to figure out what to do with it. He had to return it to Ford, obviously—but Bill and the Stans were already in the middle of a discussion that sounded a lot more like an argument. Flinging a stolen journal into the middle of the proceedings would just make it worse. Maybe he should wait until they were finished and everyone had cooled down a little—?

While Soos was upstairs, the discussion had apparently moved into the kitchen. He hovered awkwardly at the bottom of the stairs, watching.

"What do you mean, you need kitchen access," Stan was asking, "you already have kitchen access. It's never been off-limits! Even after you peed in the sink!"

"It's not kitchen access if I need to ask someone else for permission to eat anything but snacks." 

"No one's making you ask for permission! You can take what you want!"

"Okay, fine. So what can I eat?" Bill gestures at the shelves. "Go on. List anything you can think of. Anything."

Stan grimaced, and glanced at Ford to see if he was willing to walk into the obvious trap first.

Ford looked at the nearby shelves. "Cereal."

"One point for Stanford Pines! Cereal! So am I supposed to eat dry cereal for every single meal, or—?"

"No, of course not."

"All right, then what else?"

"Brown meat," Stan said. "We've got plenty of brown meat. It's good for you!"

"You didn't give me can opener rights," Bill said.

"Huh."

"So no brown meat," Bill said. "No canned soup, no canned chili, no canned fruit, no canned vegetables—"

Ford cut in, "Some of the cans have pull tabs, you don't need a can opener for those."

"Terrific observation! As soon as you realized I could open those cans myself, you moved them all under the counter because you thought I'd use the sharp edges as weapons!"

"It's... possible to open cans without a can opener, I did it sometimes while roughing it in other dimensions—"

"Yeah, wearing off the metal rim with a rock, right? Lemme just go outside and grab a rock—oh wait." Bill crossed his arms.

Ford sighed, and turned to Stan to suggest something else.

Stan surveyed the available supplies, spotted the bread, and said, "You could make sandwiches!"

"With what filling?"

"Uh..." Stan kept looking.

Meats and cheeses, of course, were kept in the fridge. Along with jelly, condiments, most vegetables... tuna or spam weren't options, they were canned... "Hey, we leave out some meats that don't need refrigeration. Sausages and stuff."

"Right, right. The ones that don't need refrigeration because they're wrapped in plastic you need a knife to cut," Bill said. "Sometimes I bite the plastic open with my teeth and rip off chunks of sausage with my fingernails, that's always fun! Then you put the leftovers in the fridge, and I'm out of luck until we buy another sausage."

"You could put... peanut butter on your sandwiches?" Ford tried. "Peanut butter's nutritious."

Bill fixed him with a hard look. "For the past five weeks, every time I've gotten a meal without asking someone else to help feed me like a baby, I've had nothing but peanut butter and banana sandwiches, peanut butter and jerky sandwiches, peanut butter and raisin sandwiches, and peanut butter and potato chip sandwiches. And we're out of bananas, jerky, and raisins." He pointed at the tortillas. "Once I decided to get creative and made myself a cold peanut butter quesadilla! I can't even add spices, because guess where the breakable glass spice jars are kept?"

"Pasta," Ford tried. "We could keep the pasta out."

"Oh, wow, that'd be great! I just love pasta! But I can't open the microwave and I can't turn on the stove! How do I heat the water, Stanford?"

Ford frowned. "Hm."

"I can cook, you know—not that any of you bothered to ask! It might not suit your tastes, but it suits mine! I wouldn't need your help to eat if you didn't make me need help! I am sick to death—" his voice went thick and took on an uncharacteristic waver, "—of having to beg to... eat." He cleared his throat, squeezed his eyes shut, and rubbed his eyelids with one hand. "Sh-shouldn't even—need to eat." He clenched his jaw to keep it from trembling.

Stan and Ford exchanged a guilty look. Stan said, "You don't have to beg— I mean, we know the, uh... position you're in..."

Bill was silent for a moment as he tried to get a tough face back on. His voice came out as a rough whisper—too thick to get any louder without breaking. "I had to negotiate to get burnt eggs."

Ford winced.

Soos was dumbfounded.

When had Bill had to negotiate for food? He could all too easily understand how it might have happened—Bill was an annoying guy, sometimes they had to pull out dumb bargains to get him to do stuff. But bargaining for food should never be on that list. Meeting Bill's basic nutritional needs couldn't be dependent on whether he was annoying that day. If it was, he'd starve.

It sounded like he was starving. Right under Soos's roof. He hadn't even noticed.

He thought about the piles of junk food trash upstairs and the bag of chips Bill had hurled across the room.

Ford said, "We'll... discuss it."

"We'll figure something out," Stan said. "I mean it."

Bill nodded silently. Head down, without uncovering his eyes, he hurried out of the kitchen and toward the stairs.

He nearly bumped into Soos's chest without noticing him. Soos backed up a step, tucking Journal 4 under his arm. "Whoa, hey!"

Bill froze, head jerking up. "You." His voice was thick and his glare was watery and poisonous. "Don't you have anything better to do than eavesdrop?" He tried to elbow past Soos, smacking his leg with his umbrella. "Move."

Soos realized uneasily that Bill's face looked a little slimmer than it had when he'd arrived.

He stepped in Bill's way. "Can't go upstairs right now. Attic's being cleaned."

"I didn't ask you to clean!"

"I'm not cleaning for you, dawg. It's just gotta be cleaned."

"Fine! Whatever!" Bill veered around the staircase and stomped down the hall, muttering, "Can't decide when I eat, can't decide when I shower, why should I get to choose when my hovel's swept..."

Soos's leg hurt where Bill had smacked it. (Bill couldn't even control whether or not he cried; all he had control over was making someone else hurt.)

In the kitchen, Stan murmured, "Didn't even realize we don't keep anything decent out on the counters. They're so crowded..."

"Chip bags take up a lot of space." Ford sighed. "I assumed he'd get a serving with everyone else whenever Mrs. Ramirez cooks."

"He does, but she only does dinners. And he'll only eat it if he watched her cook it. I've seen him get lunch with Mabel, but I don't know what he does when she's not..." Stan spotted Soos on the stairs. He tiredly called, "Soos? You need something?"

"Uhhh..." Soos hid the journal behind his back. "Nope! I just thought I'd come downstairs! For no reason." He awkwardly walked up the stairs backwards, journal still tucked behind him. "And—and now I'm going up again." He stopped at the landing and scooted sideways up the next flight of stairs. "See ya."

He pressed the journal to his chest and returned to the attic.

####

When Soos and Abuelita moved into the shack, the first thing Soos had done was turn Ford's ground-floor study into a bedroom for Abuelita. Because she was a little old lady, and not quite as steady as she used to be, so Soos didn't want her constantly going up and down the stairs—because falling once, just ONCE, could send her to the hospital or worse. That was how serious it was! You don't mess around with that!

Bill tripped and fell on the stairs so often that they could use it to tell when he was awake. And nobody had thought to offer him a cane? Did anybody even ask if he was alright?

When Bill first arrived and tried to murder everyone, naturally, he came out of it pretty banged up and bruised. That was to be expected. It was self-defense. They'd gotten used to seeing Bill with scrapes on his arms and legs, rope burns around his ankles, and the angry purple-black bruises of chain links over his arms. But in all the weeks since then, Soos hadn't seen Bill bruise-free once. Bruises on his shins and arms, scrapes on his elbows and knees. Soos had seen him with a four-inch burn on his forearm. Bill had brushed it off.

In Bill's first few days in the shack, he'd resorted to peeing in the kitchen sink because nobody had bothered to give a guy who couldn't open doors a way to use the bathroom. And they were the reason he couldn't open doors in the first place!

He threw up in the living room in the middle of the night and went upstairs to sleep on couch cushions on the floor and nobody had talked about it.

He burned off all his hair and was so upset about it that he stole Soos's zodiac blanket and hid under it for half a week, and everyone but Mabel just ignored him.

In less than a month in the Mystery Shack, Bill had lost a tooth.

He had been dragged out of the house during a weird weather phenomenon while terrified out of his mind. Soos had seen Bill cowering on the ground in fear, Ford looming over him, grabbing him by the collar and snarling in rage. Bill had been pleading with everyone in hearing range not to make him go, and had come back in such a state of shock he could hardly walk. 

And yet, he'd protected the whole town from getting hurt in zero gravity—and he'd brought a pet for Soos.

They'd tried to execute Bill two days later.

####

Soos sat in the window seat, flipping through the remaining filled-in pages in Journal 4. The last few pages were packed with stickers. A cat that said PURRFECT! A smiling fish that said A REEL PAL! Bill had started a little collection of pizza slice stickers for some reason. A couple of holographic rainbows, a smiling scratch-and-sniff sun. (Apparently, the sun smelled like lemons and oranges. Astronomy facts!)

Soos reached the current page. Bill was using several pieces of paper—regular printer paper and notebook paper, folded in half—like a bookmark. Soos unfolded them. A list of animals ranked by fuzziness. (Soos was satisfied that he'd been placed under the "smooth and squishy" category, but wondered whether he should be bothered by the fact that he shared the category with pigs and slugs.) A drawing of Bill riding a looping rocket ship and waving a fishbowl helmet above him. A drawing of a blue house with a couple of kids and a pig in the window. Several drawings of shape people kinda like Bill: a pink heart person labeled "Me in Flatworld," a stern-looking red stop sign wearing sunglasses labeled "Bill's parole officer," Bill dancing, the pink heart protecting Bill from some villainous-looking shapes—all clearly Mabel's art.

Several notebook pages in someone else's handwriting detailing names, addresses, and contact information, with statements Soos couldn't make sense of—as if maybe someone had been asking somebody else questions and writing down their answers. He thought the questions might be about how some people had reacted to the end of Weirdmageddon. He got the impression the people being discussed had known that Weirdmageddon was coming. He got the impression they were disappointed it hadn't happened. There were several questions at the end: How will we rendes-vouz? (Whoever was writing didn't know how to spell rendezvous, but to be fair Soos wasn't 100% sure either.) What supplies do you need? What are your interim orders?

Soos stared at the notebook papers.

He flipped back through the journal again, looking at each page more closely.

Sometimes the two-tone dot-and-dash segments had a stray human word: a few characters he recognized from his Teach Yourself Japanese workbooks, sometimes words Soos thought might be Arabic but honestly he didn't have a clue. At one point he listed half a dozen human names that Soos didn't recognize. The most common character was a stretched-out letter M (Mabel?), followed by a 6 knocked on its side (Sixer?).

The dot-and-dash segments had occasional amateurish illustrations. Sometimes they were human stick figures; sometimes the stick figures' heads had symbols off of Bill's zodiac wheel. He saw Stan's fish symbol, Gideon's star symbol, and Mabel's shooting star symbol. Ford's stick figures were the only ones with hands; Bill consistently gave them six fingers. The doodles were like particularly esoteric cave drawings; they were so bad that Soos couldn't tell what most of them were supposed to illustrate.

Except for one featuring Bill (as a triangle) and Mabel and some other inscrutable figures in a really awesome car with flames on the side, its coolness limited only by the fact that it was all in gray and yellow-green crayon. When Soos had been in high school, there had always been a couple of kids who didn't know how to draw anything except expensive cars or name-brand sports shoes, but they drew them in extreme realistic detail. Apparently, Bill was that kind of artist. Nothing but stick figures and the sickest crayon car Soos had ever seen.

It didn't do anything to dispel Soos's impression of Bill as a lost alien 18-year-old.

On one page, in sloppy lines of handwriting that meandered drunkenly up and down the paper, Bill had written, "I don't get why you won't give me a second shot. I asked you to join my gang. I serenaded you in a pyramid. I got a fantastic makeover. I offered you godhood. I showed you my dimension. I didn't torture you until I had to. I even made you a skin couch! I know how much you've always wanted a leather furniture set! I've given you everything from chicken zombification magic to jelly beans, what does it take? What am I missing?"

Soos reread Bill's other messages to Ford. All that "you'll regret not siding with me" junk wasn't threats. It was the impotent rage of a socially inept teenager who didn't understand his own creepiness had driven his friends away. It was the whiny moan of some guy going "Why doesn't she like me anymore" about an ex-girlfriend who had told him five times she didn't like him anymore because he didn't listen to her. Like that guy Wendy dated last summer. So like, a jerk, but not a terrifying world-ending monster jerk, just an annoying creep jerk. A regular jerk. A human jerk.

Soos stood, gave one last look at this journal—clearly stolen, definitely a violation of Bill's "no writing materials" restriction, completely stuffed full of mysterious messages to outsiders and some kind of weird alien code that could say anything at all and might have been super dangerous—and he slid it back into the ripped seam in the attic seat cushion where he'd found it.

He finished vacuuming up the potato chips Bill had flung across the room, thinking about how offended Bill had been that Soos had given him any food except what he'd asked for, remembering what Abuelita had said about people who destroy the things around them when they feel like that's the last and only thing they still have power over.

Enough was enough.

####

(Hope y'all enjoyed! Next week we may interrupt our regularly-scheduled programming to post a TBOB-based chapter I'm inserting early into the fic—it depends on if I get it done by next Friday. In the meantime, I'm looking forward to hearing y'all's thoughts on this chapter!)

[nishiriksss]

the first concert ch. 2

summary: riki was your childhood bestfriend up until you were 13, but you ended up moving to the US. you lost contact with him and never thought you would see him again, until you saw an edit on your fyp of a guy that looked suspiciously like him. you end up at every single enhypen concert, as close to the front as possible, trying to reach him. you comment on every post, every live, hoping he still remembers you.

genre: childhood bsfs to lovers, angst, fluff, slowburn

word count: 1.5k

warnings: none

taglist: @rairaiblog @vixialuvs

not proof-read masterlist

your mom had heard you talk about riki for 4 years straight, so when you showed her that he was in a boy group, and had an upcoming concert she bought tickets immediately.

the next concert was in saitama, your mom bought the closest tickets to the front she could, for all three shows. you got your outfits ready, and had been listening to every enhypen song on loop, over night you had become their biggest fan.

riki was sulking, presumably, you still lived in the US and he hadnt seen any sign of you. now that he was leaving for the net show, he felt as if he lost his chance. 'i had a feeling she would be there, though.' he whined 'do you think she moved?' he would ask and all his members would just look at him in disbelief. they all tried to let him down slowly. 'i know you miss her but, its been 4 years.' jungwon whispered just loud enough for him to hear. riki knew you probably forgot all about him long ago, and he would try to talk to other girls, but there was always that lingering feeling that you would show up again. he knew if you did he would drop everything, anything just to be with you. so he stayed alone, it was advised not to date anyway, cause of his fans, but the main reason was you. he couldnt think of another girl romantically. you never knew it but riki had been in love with you since you were little, he always had a crush on you. he was planning to confess but you moved away. even after all these years you were still always on his mind, it drove him, and his members crazy.

it felt like years before the day of the concert, when in reality, it had only been a few weeks. you felt like you had been waiting forever, and the day was tomorrow. even if riki didnt see you, you would see him, for the first time in 4 years. you were bursting at the seams with excitement the whole car ride, you were blasting enhypens music and singing along, you had only been listening to them, just to hear rikis voice again. enhypens discography had replaced your normal riki-themed playlist. you arrived in saitama, it all felt like a dream, but somewhere deep down, you knew riki wouldnt see you. the show was almost sold out when your mom bought the tikets, who even knows if he remembers you. that night you lied awake for hours, unable to sleep, thinking of what might happen the next day.

you woke up super early to get to the concert on time, so you could spend as long as you like getting ready, just in case he did see you. when you got to the concert you were squirming in your seat, you couldnt sit still, he was there, and so were you. he was just out of reach. when they finally made their way to the stage you saw him, you couldnt look at anything else. 'mom, thats him' you squealed, pointing at riki. she smiled at how happy you were, 'well, hes not gonna see you if you just sit and talk to me.' she laughed as you got up, leaning over the railing. the seats werent very close to the stage, luckily, tomorrows show had more seats available, your mom had got a vip ticket and you were gonna be right there with him.

as riki sang his lines, as he danced, he couldnt help but scan the crowd for your face. he looked everywhere, until his eyes landed on you, he gasped, when enhypen went backstage to get ready for the next song he was jumping around 'its her!!!' cheered 'i know its her!' he twirled around. 'riki..' heeseung gulped, not wanting to burst rikis bubble 'what are the chances thats actually her?' riki stopped jumping and stood there, motionless for a solid minute. 'im sorr-' heeseung started before getting interrupted by riki 'no, youre right.' he sat down, 'its probably not her. she doesnt even live in saitama.' he looked at the floor as a single tear fell from his eye. just as his members were about to comfort him, their manager called out 'youre on in 30 seconds!! everyone get up to the stage!' and with that they had to run to get there in time. when they got back on stage riki looked at who he thought was you.

'mom! mom! hes looking over here! do you think he recognizes me?' you jumped as you waved at riki 'RIKI!! ITS YN' you yell over and over, hoping he would hear you. of course, he didnt. jake saw him looking and slapped him on the arm 'dude its not her.' he stated after he pulled his mic away from his mouth. 'i know.' he mummbled, and continued with the show.

after the show you tried to get to riki, of course, it didnt work. you went back to the hotel sad, but still hopeful for tomorrow. you knew you wouldnt be able sleep. 'mom, what if he never sees me?' you ask, worry clear in your voice. 'he will, i promise.' she replied as she went to go take a shower. you sat on your bed, all your stuff still in your bags. you didnt have the energy to unpack, especially since you were only gonna be in saitama for two more days. you decided you would take a shower tomorrow, before the show, to clear your mind before you went. you lied down on your bed and wondered if your plan would ever work. you wondered what you would do if he didnt see you within the next two shows. you knew you would follow him all around the world just to see him one more time, but your mom wouldnt. just as you were about to sleep, you got a notification on your phone.

-nishimura riki started a live video

you almost screamed. 'mom! hes live!' you yell before getting on the live. you sent so many comments that you got timed out.

RIKI ITS YN

DO YOU REMEMBER ME?

PLEASE TEXT ME!

'guys.' riki smiled 'its her.' he clicked on your profile, and typed a dm.

yn, is this really you?

the message didnt go through though, your account got banned because of spamming. he looked at the screen 'account banned' he threw his head back in frustration. 'im telling you heeseung.' he paused and bit his lip to hold back the tears. 'it was her, i was so close.' his comments exploded.

what happened

who???

does he have a gf??

by the time you made a new account, he had ended the live.

'heeseung, that was her.' he whispered as he shook his head. 'her comments literally said 'riki, this is yn.' he sighed and leaned onto heeseung. 'well, she knows you exist, right?' heeseung asked 'well, duh. she was on the live.' the moment those words left his mouth something clicked in his brain. 'shes looking for me too.' he smiled so hard his face started to hurt. 'yn is looking for me.' he repeated. over and over. 'dude, you face is gonna get stuck like that.' jay joked as he walked in, overhearing riki talking about you. 'shes looking for me jay!' he almost yelled as he stood up and started punching the couch. 'do you think it was really her at the concert?' riki asked, now hugging a pillow spinning around. 'you know, if shes looking for you, its not impossible.' jay stated, earning an agreeing nod from heeseung. 'but why wouldnt she go to a US show?' heeseung asked, which made riki stop in his tracks. 'your right.' he sat down again, getting discouraged. 'but even if it wasnt her, shes still looking for me, thats what matters. right?' his voice dropped on the last word, as he tried to think of the positive. but you were just out of reach, and that was the problem. what if he could never find you again, what if you never knew how much he missed you too. him now having the confirmation that you were trying to find him, just like he had been trying to find you filled him with joy. the fact that his close attempt at talking to you failed, he knew he would find you eventually. he couldnt give up, not yet.

as you tried to sleep, unaware of the fact riki was still trying to find your new account, you wished your account didnt get banned. 'what if he saw my comments?' you thought to yourself, hoping he did, or maybe hoping he didnt. embarrassment wasnt something you were expecting, but the feeling hit you like a brick. 'what if he saw them and thought how much of a loser i am, still looking for him after 4 years.' you wondered, now feeling the tears stain your cheeks once again. and once again, you wished he was there to comfort you.