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soaps-mohawk · 1 year ago

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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 11: It's Coming

Summary: Things have begun to shift in your developing relationship with your pack. Unfortunately, nature has the worst timing in the world.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Suggestive content, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, language, medical stuff, plenty of fluff.

A/N: I wrote like 90% of this chapter on my phone so please forgive any weird typos. I'm super excited for this one and this whole part really. Lots of good stuff coming up!!

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At first you’re not quite sure what pulled you from sleep. You’re warm and more comfortable than you have been in a long time, despite the dull throbbing between your thighs. The pillow against your back shifts, a chill settling in as some of the warmth disappears.

You blink your eyes open, squinting against the harsh blue light of a phone screen. Price lets out a quiet groan, swiping at something before settling his phone back on the nightstand in front of you. His arms wrap back around your middle, his face pressing into the back of your neck as he settles against you again.

It was his phone vibrating that had woken you, pulling you from the gentle arms of sleep. It’s still dark out, far too early to be up and getting phone calls, especially on a Sunday morning. You wonder how often John actually gets to sleep, between his job and everything he does when he’s not away. You’re understanding the couch in his office more and more now.

“Go back to sleep.” He murmurs, a quiet rumbling vibrating against your back as he purrs.

You don’t need to be told twice, snuggling down under the covers again, letting your eyes close.

You wake a while later alone. It’s daylight finally, the sunlight coming through the window lighting the room. You press your face into the pillow, inhaling Price’s scent. It still smells a bit like arousal and sex in the room, both of your scents heavy in the air. They blend together surprisingly well, Price’s musky woody scent mixing with the sweetness of your own scent. It makes an intoxicating aroma of alpha and omega.

Price comes out of the bathroom, slipping back under the covers. You curl up against his side, laying your head on his chest as he wraps an arm around you.

“Morning.” He murmurs, voice heavy with sleep still.

You hum in response, resting your head over his heart.

“How do you feel?” He asks, his fingers trailing your bare back.

“A bit sore.” You say, acknowledging the throbbing between your legs. “Not as bad as I thought I might.”

Price huffs out a laugh. “It shouldn’t hurt, not if you know what you’re doing.”

You hum again, the knowledge that he’s very experienced coming to the forefront of your mind. Even if it has been two years, you can imagine him when he was younger, the kind of experiences he must have had. Omegas and barrack bunnies and all sorts of women probably fawned over him.

“You’re thinking too much.” He says quietly, eyes closed as he lays there with you.

You’re starting to think he might be able to read your mind.

“Can I ask you something? Something...personal?” You ask, tilting your head up to look at him.

He cracks an eye open to stare down at you. “Don’t think you can get much more personal than we already are.” His lips twitch up in a smile. “‘Course, you can ask me anything.”

“When was the last time you helped an omega through a heat?” You ask, listening to the steady thump of his heart under your ear.

“Years ago. Well over a decade ago.” He says, voice still thick and raspy with sleep. He clears his throat, a hand settling on your waist. “Back when I was still a Sergeant. I had the idea back then of settling down, finding an omega and having my own pack. Had a few on and off relationships. Then I started getting sent off on more and more dangerous missions. I realized my skill set and my purpose, and gave up the idea of having an omega. I couldn’t stand the thought of putting them through that, if something happened to me. I’ve seen what losing an alpha does to an omega firsthand too many times.”

A frown tugs at your brows as you lay there against his chest. You know the risk of them dying is high. The CIA had spent ample time warning you of that risk, telling you about how dangerous their lives are and how every assignment, every deployment, could be their last. They could be gone for weeks at a time, months at a time, and they could go and not come back. They know that every time they leave for an assignment it could be their last, and now you’ll be stuck behind knowing they might not be coming back.

You’ve heard about omegas that have lost their alphas, how damaging it can be. It’s not something you’re taught at the institute. That’s not something you’re supposed to think about, something you shouldn’t have to think about.

“What’s eating you?” Price asks softly, his finger stroking the pinched skin between your brows.

You shift against his side, leaning more on his chest as you look up at him. “What if you don’t come back?”

His smile is a bit grim as he stares up at you, his fingers trailing across your face. “I won’t lie and say that’s not a risk. There’s always a chance.” His fingers trail down your arm to rest on your hand where it’s pressed flat against his chest. “We’re here for a reason. We are the best at what we do.”

He pauses as your hand moves, your gaze lowering from his as you trace one of the scars on his clavicle. You can only imagine what caused it. A knife? Shrapnel? Where was he and what was he doing when he got it? You might never be able to know all the details. So many secrets, so much you can’t know.

John wraps his arms around you, easing you off his chest as he rolls you onto your back. You stare up at him as he hovers over you, his hand brushing stray hairs from your face. “Don’t worry too much.” He says, his finger trailing the line of your nose. “We always try our best to make it home. Now we just have an even greater reason to.”

Your hand cups his cheek as he leans down, pressing his lips to yours. You hum against his mouth, pressing your body closer against his. You can’t help but smile against his lips as his cock hardens against your thigh.

“Again?” You murmur against his lips, making him chuckle.

“Can’t blame me when there’s a beautiful omega naked in my bed.”

Your face burns as he leans back down to kiss you, his hips moving against your thigh. Warmth spreads through your whole body from his scent thickening in the air, his arousal prevalent as he twitches against your leg.

“John.” You moan softly, hands grasping at his back.

You both pause as a door shuts in the hallway, the reminder that the others are just a thin wall away coming back to you. The moment is over as your stomach growls, also reminding you that you’ll need to eat eventually.

John chuckles quietly, leaning up to press a kiss against your forehead. “Come on, let’s get the day started and get some food into you.”

You frown a bit as he pulls away, cock still hard and angry looking as he stands from the bed. “John?” You call out, scrambling off the bed after him. “You’re just gonna...”

“Give it a minute and I’ll be fine.” He says, moving to his closet. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Your frown only deepens and you step closer to him, catching him as he turns around. You stare up at him through your lashes, wrapping your hand around his cock. He pauses, letting out a little groan as you squeeze him gently.

“Let me help you.” You say, dragging your hand along his length.

His eyes darken as he stares down at you, the pants in his hand dropping to the floor.

Your face is still a bit flushed as you make your way to the mess. You’re hand in hand with John, dressed comfortably in one of his shirts and a pair of leggings. You can’t help but feel a bit bashful, as if they’re all going to know what you did, as if every soldier in the mess knows you and Price slept together last night.

They’ve probably been thinking that since you arrived.

Price leads you through the line, making your tray for you. You nearly beam with pride at him taking care of you, your omega preening with happiness as he carries your tray and his to the table. You take the spot next to Gaz as usual, still practically beaming.

“Have a good night, love?” Gaz asks, smirking a bit at your pleased state.

“Yeah.” You say, your face getting warm again at their stares.

“Practically glowing, kitten.” Johnny says, winking at you from across the table.

Your face flushes hotter and you quickly bury yourself in your porridge to avoid exploding at the breakfast table.

“Sounded like ye had a great time.” Johnny continues.

Christ, they probably heard the whole thing. You halfway want to sink down beneath the table to hide from their knowing stares. You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about, not really. They’re your pack, and eventually you’ll be in the same position with them too.

“Didnae know ye had it in ye, kitten.” Johnny continues. “We certainly enjoyed the show.”

You do start to sink down in your seat a bit, surprised steam isn’t rising off your skin from how warm you feel. Gaz’s hand on your leg stops you, his fingers squeezing your thigh gently.

“Don’t pay too much attention to him, love.” Gaz gives you a reassuring smile. “He’s just jealous he didn’t get to go first.”

“Am not.” Johnny whines, practically pouting.

You can’t help but smile a bit at his antics. You know from how much he bragged about getting to be your first kiss that he probably was rather put out that John got to be your first. It would have been that way regardless, but you know you asking John before your heat changed things a bit. It would have always been John, though.

It would have always been your alpha first.

Gaz’s hand doesn't move from your thigh, holding its place there as you all eat, Johnny still pouting a bit. You know they’ll want to pursue that sort of relationship with you after your heat, but now that John’s removed the barrier of the first time as well, you can only expect them to up the teasing tenfold. A shiver runs up your spine at the thought of Gaz sliding his hand slightly higher, fingers slipping between your legs.

You’re certain there has to be steam coming off of you now.

Your thighs squeeze together, trapping Gaz's fingers between them as you continue to try and act normally. Gaz turns his head just slightly, side eyeing you as you continue to try and eat your breakfast as normally as possible. Gaz's grip on your thigh tightens, fingers digging into your skin. You fight the noise threatening to come up as he holds his hand there, continuing to eat his breakfast as if nothing is happening.

You hold Gaz's hand as he walks you back towards the barracks, leaning against his side. His grip around your fingers is tight, not even the rain dampening the heaviness of his scent. It's deeper than usual, the musk of arousal tinging the edges.

Your back meets your door as soon as you're back in the barracks, Gaz pinning you against the wood. Your own breathing is heavy as you stare up at him, his eyes dark as he meets your gaze.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous, you know that?” He groans, leaning down to kiss you. It's far more passionate than you've ever kissed him before, his hands sliding down your sides to grip your waist. “Making all those sweet noises last night.” He breathes against your lips. “Haven't seen Price that relaxed in a long time.”

Your face warms at his words, your hands clutching at the fabric of his shirt. He presses harder against you, pinning you against the door as his tongue prods at your lips. He tastes like the tea he drank with breakfast, herby and earthy.

“Has us all worked up last night.” He groans against your lips. “Hearing you, knowing our alpha was treating you nice.”

He presses his forehead against yours, staring down at you. You meet his gaze, shivering under the intensity in his deep brown eyes.

“Johnny bout cried he was so worked up.” Gaz's lips twitch in a smile. “Simon left for the gym bout halfway through, had to work out his tension.”

Your brows raise at the news about what Ghost had been up to last night. You figured he might join Johnny in his room, or perhaps head somewhere so he didn't have to hear you. Not that he would leave because he was being affected by you.

“Johnny was being such a whiny little bastard. Had no choice but to take pity on him.” Gaz nips at your jawline playfully. “I fear he's going to be unbearable until he gets his chance.”

“Well, he'll just have to wait his turn.” You say.

Gaz laughs, kissing you again before he takes half a step back, leaning his arm on the door above you. “Any plans today?”

You shrug, still leaning against your door. “Might read, or nap. Maybe both.” You sink your teeth into your lip, reaching back to put your hand on the door handle. “You wanna come in?”

Gaz's grin widens into a smile, his eyes practically sparkling. “Sure.”

You open the door, stepping into your room. It's a bit of a mess from you preparing for your date last night. You toss the clothes from your bed onto the floor haphazardly before pushing Gaz onto the mattress. He kicks off his shoes before making himself comfortable. You toe off your slippers, grabbing your book before joining him on the bed. He pulls you against his side, pulling his phone out of his pocket as you settle against his chest. A quiet content purr begins rumbling in his chest, easing the tension in your body as you relax against him.

You stay like that, reading while cuddling Gaz, for quite a while. Your door is wide open still, the others coming and going as they do on the weekends. Gaz keeps your back to his chest, arm wrapped around his middle as he scrolls on his phone while you read.

Slowly his head starts to droop until it's resting against the top of yours. You can feel the content sleepiness settling into your bones as well, the words on the pages starting to swim a bit. You mark your place, moving just enough to set your book on your nightstand before you curl up against him, letting his even breaths lull you to sleep.

You jolt awake suddenly as Gaz's arms tighten around you, keeping you from flying off the bed. You blink open your bleary eyes, squinting at Johnny's grinning face inches from yours. His body is draped over both yours and Gaz's, a solid weight against you both.

“C'mon ye lazies. Gotta eat lunch eventually.” He says, sounding far too chipper for a Sunday afternoon.

“Fuck off mate.” Gaz says, shoving at Johnny's shoulder. “Was comfy.”

“Yer hogging the omega!” Johnny says, poking Gaz's side. He pushes himself up, scooping you into his arms and lifting you. “Some of us would like tae spend time with ‘er too.”

You yelp at being lifted suddenly, wrapping your arms around Johnny's neck to hold on for dear life.

“Well, maybe you just need to be a little bit faster.” Gaz says, standing from the bed.

“I'm plenty fast.” Johnny almost whines. “Close to beating your time on the course.”

Gaz smirks. “I'll believe it when I see it.”

You look back and forth between them as Gaz steps closer to Johnny, caging you between them.

“And ye will see it.” Johnny says.

“Cheeky.” Gaz murmurs, closing the distance between them.

You stare wide eyed as they kiss just inches in front of your face. It's all tongues and teeth, Soap's chest rumbling against your side as he purrs. A quiet whimper leaves your lips as you watch them, your body starting to get warm again.

They break apart, both turning to look at you. Gaz's lips turn up in a smirk, Johnny's eyes sparkling.

“Look at you, kitten.” Johnny smirks. “Ye like watching us?”

You make another quiet noise, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip. Johnny slowly lowers you until you're standing between them, Gaz not moving an inch as they trap you in a beta sandwich. Their bodies are warm and solid as you stand there, back to Johnny's chest. You can feel the bulge in his jeans pushing against your ass, Gaz's body a solid weight against your front.

You can imagine it, naked between them, skin against skin with hands everywhere. A quiet purr begins in your chest, eyes dilating as you stare up at Gaz. He smirks down at you, leaning down towards you. He skirts to the side at the last minute though, kissing Johnny behind you.

You can't see them this time but lord can you hear it. Johnny is still purring, the sound vibrating against your back. Gaz let's out a quiet sound, his hand dropping to squeeze your waist.

Johnny pats your side before pulling away. “Should get ye some lunch.”

Your head is still spinning as Gaz hums his approval, stepping away as well. You stand there blinking for a moment at the sudden loss of contact, the sudden shift in energy.

“C'mon, get yer shoes on, sunshine.” Johnny says.

You move half in a daze still towards your bed, your body tingling a bit still from the many thoughts that had been racing through your mind.

Something in the back of your mind begins to itch as you stare down at your bed. Your brows pinch in a frown as you stare down at the mess of blankets and pillows.

It's not right.

Your fingertips twitch as you stare at the mess in your nest, your mind taking over as you begin to rearrange the blankets and pillows. You forget you're not alone in the room as you fuss with the blankets until the itching begins to lessen a bit. You fiddle with the pillows, moving them around over and over again until you're happy with how they're organized, the quiet humming in the back of your mind fading away to nothing.

You sink down on the edge of the bed, letting out a long breath. You feel tired and almost winded after your effort to make sure your nest is just right.

Nest.

You're nesting.

You blink up at Johnny and Gaz, suddenly aware of their presence in your space again. Johnny is staring at you wide eyed, mouth slightly parted in wonder. Gaz has a sparkle in his eye as he grins at you.

You've just built a nest.

“Feel better, love?” Gaz asks, still almost beaming from witnessing you make your nest.

You nod, a sudden weight lifting from your shoulders. You've nested. You're nesting. Everything is going to be okay.

“C'mon.” Johnny says, slipping your slippers back onto your feet. “Let's get lunch in ye.”

You let him help you up, holding both their hands as you make your way from the barracks, a small, relieved smile on your face.

You wake up nauseous.

There’s a clawing feeling in your stomach and you’re not sure why.

It’s early, too early to be up. The sky outside is still dark, and the barracks are quiet. You get up, heading for the bathroom, the gnawing feeling still plaguing your stomach. Cold water on your face doesn't help the light-headedness or the dizziness you’re beginning to feel.

You can’t possibly be sick. You haven’t been around anyone that’s sick. You know heat sickness isn’t a threat right now. There’s no warnings out about possible exposures. It couldn’t be food poisoning. You eat the same things they do.

The gnawing intensifies, your stomach rumbling a bit.

Realization dawns on you suddenly.

You’re hungry.

You’re very hungry.

You check the time on your phone. Three a.m. Still too early for any of the boys to be up, and still a couple hours from when the mess would start serving breakfast. You head for the rec room, hoping there’s at least something in there to tide you over until breakfast.

You dig through the cabinets, plenty of tea and a couple packets of instant coffee you know belong to Johnny. You dig out a couple protein bars, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge before taking a seat on the couch.

The protein bars aren’t great. They don’t taste good, but you’re so hungry you don’t care. You down them quickly and the entire bottle of water. For a moment you feel relief, the gnawing in your stomach easing. You head back to bed, slipping back into your room quietly.

You toss and turn, unable to go back to sleep as the gnawing begins in your stomach once more. You let out a quiet sound, muffled by your pillow as you lay there, knowing you still have a long time until they’ll come and get you for breakfast.

The thought makes you almost want to cry.

You’re waiting as soon as they knock, narrowly avoiding Johnny’s hand as you open the door mid-knock. The bright look in his eyes fades as he stares at you. You know you look miserable, maybe a little sick, even. You feel worse, your stomach twisting and gnawing. Those protein bars four hours ago hadn’t been nearly enough.

“Ye alright, kitten?” He asks, a frown marring his face.

“Hungry.” You all but whine, slipping out the door, closing it behind you.

“Ye hungry, kitten? Ye could have said somethin’ sooner. Coulda brought ye somethin’.” Johnny says, following you down the hall.

You’re determined to get real food and you’re not about to let anything get in your way. You feel ravenous, despite the fact you’d had a good dinner the night before.

Maybe it hadn’t been enough.

You make your own tray this time, loading on more than you usually do. You take your normal spot between Price and Gaz, all four of them eyeing your tray as you happily dig in.

“Hungry, love?” Price asks, watching you spoon huge mouthfuls of porridge into your mouth.

You nod, chewing quickly before spooning more in. It tastes delicious, something you never thought you would say about British food.

They all watch in awe as you clear your tray, eating every last crumb, having to refrain from licking it clean. Finally, for the first time since you went to bed last night, you feel full and satisfied.

“Damn. Putting us to shame.” Gaz says, staring at your empty, nearly clean tray.

You grow bashful under their stares, realizing you not only out ate them, you also finished first. “I was hungry.” You say, fiddling with your fork.

“No kidding.” Ghost huffs out, all of them finishing up their trays.

You’re in a far better mood leaving the mess than you were entering it, the sweet relief of being full after hours of gnawing hunger making you feel almost giddy. Ghost walks you back to the barracks, walking slow enough you can easily keep up with him. So slow, your arm brushes his as you walk next to him.

“Sorry.” You say, moving a step away from him. You’re so used to standing directly next to the others, you’ve forgotten Ghost prefers his personal space.

He stares down at you for a moment but doesn’t say anything, holding the door to the barracks open for you. He stands just inside the door, watching you make your way down the hallway to your room. He waits for the click of the lock before he turns, leaving you alone in the barracks again.

You settle into your usual routine of laying in your nest and reading, the giddiness starting to wear off as the time passes. You make it until ten a.m. when the gnawing hunger begins to return. You let out an annoyed whine, dropping your book to the floor as you roll onto your stomach.

You want to cry and scream at the same time, watching the clock tick by on your phone. You’re tired of being so hungry, and what’s worse, you don’t even know why. You’re just ravenous and you can’t think of a reason.

Lunch can’t come soon enough, and you find yourself struggling through the afternoon just as much. It’s almost like your body is on a timer and every two hours you’re suddenly starving, as if you haven’t eaten all day. You eat just as much as you did at breakfast, scarfing down food like you’re a starving animal.

You certainly feel like one.

You head to the rec room after dinner, Ghost and Johnny joining you. Johnny takes the seat next to you on the couch, draping his arm behind you as Ghost takes his usual spot in the chair.

You curl up against Johnny’s side, watching whatever he decides to put on TV half-heartedly. You’re waiting for the inevitable, the gnawing hunger to creep up on you again.

It does, roughly two hours into your time in the rec room.

You shift against Johnny, pressing against his side more as you try to ignore the hunger burning through you. His arm wraps around your shoulders, holding you against him. You breathe in his scent, letting the citrusy scent of him wash over you.

It only serves to make you more hungry.

You let out a quiet whine, trying to get closer to him. Tears prick at your eyes as you know there’s no relief coming. There’s no more meals until tomorrow. You’ll have to go all night before you can eat again, before you can relieve the hunger. You’re not sure you’ll make it that long. You might perish in the middle of the night, or become violently ill. Perhaps both.

You let out another quiet whine, standing from the couch. You can’t take it anymore, both Johnny and Ghost watching you as you head for the cabinets, kneeling on the floor and rummaging through everything, desperate to find another protein bar or anything.

“What are you doing?” Ghost asks, staring at you as you’re halfway in the cabinet, checking every last corner.

“Hungry!” You snap, half considering eating one of the tea bags just for something.

You’ve just closed the cabinet door in irritation when an arm wraps around your waist, lifting you from the floor. You let out a yelp, Ghost carrying you easily back to the couch.

“Stay.” He says after dropping you back next to Johnny. “I’ll be back.”

Johnny wraps his arms around you as you pout, nearly in tears from how frustrated you are. You’re just so hungry.

“Easy, kitten.” Johnny says, pulling you back against his chest.

You nuzzle into him, curling up into a ball against his side. He starts purring quietly, trying to soothe you while you wait for Ghost to return. You can’t pay attention to the TV, Johnny trying to change the channel every time a food related commercial comes on.

You’re nearly shaking when Ghost returns, arms full of snacks. Your eyes widen as he dumps them on the coffee table, pushing yourself up from Johnny’s chest.

“Where did you get these?” You ask, dropping to your knees on the floor in front of the coffee table.

“Vending machine in the mess.” Ghost answers, sitting back down in his chair.

You stare at him teary eyed, sniffling a little. “Thank you.”

He grunts in response, turning his gaze back to the TV as you reach for a bag of chips.

You can barely even taste it as you kneel there on the floor, basking in the first taste of sweet relief from a bag of salt and vinegar chips. You grab them by the handful, burning through the small, snack sized bag quickly.

You’ve barely finished chewing when you’re reaching for a candybar, a sudden realization striking you as your brain begins to regain the ability to think now that it knows relief is coming. You stare at the purple Cadbury on the front of the packaging, your fingers trembling as you hold the candybar.

You take a deep breath, quickly opening the wrapper before taking a bit, sitting back on your heels as you chew. “Well, shit.”

“I know, I hate the exam rooms too.” Dr. Keller says, flipping through her clipboard. “Too clinical and sterile looking.” She lifts your hand, removing the pulse monitor from your finger. “A little higher than normal.” She says, writing something down on the clipboard.

She takes your blood pressure and temperature, writing both down on the clipboard.

“Temperature is still normal.” She says. “How have you been feeling?”

“Hungry.” You say, picking at the thin fabric of the hospital gown you’ve been forced into. “Ravenously hungry and clingy.” You continue. “A bit more emotional than normal too.”

Dr. Keller nods, writing all of it down. “Normal things for your pre-heat, according to your file. Anything out of the ordinary? Aches and pains? Any nausea or vomiting, not related to hunger?”

You shake your head. “No. Kinda sleepy all the time too, but the hunger makes it hard to sleep.”

Dr. Keller nods. “That’s normal. Your body is preparing for a few days of very little caloric intake and little rest. I’d say you’re exhibiting all the signs of pre-heat. You’re right on time, as expected.” She gives you a little smile. “Judging by your vitals you still have a few days before the full heat symptoms begin. Any questions?”

“What do institutes do for heats?” John asks where he’s sitting to the side of the exam table.

“It depends on the institute.” Dr. Keller says, looking at you.

“FIOT rotated between sedation and isolation.” You say, not really wanting to think back on the heats you had gone through at the institute. “Sedation for the full heat, or shutting us in private rooms for a week to ride out the symptoms alone to avoid triggering heats in the other omegas.”

“Neither are great, but in that sort of environment there’s not a lot that can be done. Sedation is the better of the two, though it can still be disorienting. Isolation is painful and risky, especially if proper care isn’t given.” Dr. Keller says.

“Is sedation an option for the future?” Price asks.

You turn to look at him, before looking back at Dr. Keller.

“It’s something we can explore. I know it can’t be expected of you to be here for every heat. We can start exploring some alternatives after this heat is over and I have a better idea of what they’re going to look like.” Dr. Keller gives you a soft smile. “Now, I’d like to do a little exam just to give me a baseline for after your heat when I check for any abnormalities or injuries.”

She directs you to lay down on the exam table and put your feet in the stirrups. You suddenly feel nervous, her words doing little to calm you. John appears in your peripheral, slipping his hand into yours.

“Is that a risk?” You ask as Dr. Keller pulls a clean pair of gloves on.

“Only a small one.” She says, standing at the end of the table. “I know you’ve probably heard all the horror stories, but those are only really concerns with inexperienced alphas who have never helped an omega through a heat before, especially those who had limited exposure to omegas in general.” She smiles at you. “You’re in good hands, my dear.”

She does her exam, letting you sit up once she’s finished. John helps you up, still holding your hand. Dr. Keller’s words do ease your concerns just a bit, but you can’t help the images flashing through your mind, the horror stories of mutilations and even deaths. You trust Price to take care of you, but at the same time, you won’t know until it’s over.

“Everything looks good.” She says. “The best thing you can do right now is try to satiate the pre-heat symptoms and take this time to make sure everything is ready and in place for when the full heat begins. Don’t worry too much.” She looks pointedly at you. “I’ll be on call and ready should something happen.” Her gaze turns to John. “Your beta knows what to look out for, right?”

John nods. “Kyle has been doing a lot of research. He knows what to do.”

“Good.” Dr. Keller says, looking back at you. “Why don’t you get dressed, then we can go back to my office where it’s more comfortable and talk some more.”

Dr. Keller leaves you alone in the room, Price helping you change back into your normal clothes, leaving the room with you. You turn to look up at him, Dr. Keller waiting for you near her office door.

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” Price says, leaning down towards you.

“Yeah.” You say, standing up on your toes to kiss him.

You try to ignore the look on Dr. Keller’s face as you walk past her and into her office, your face warming a bit in response. You take your normal seat, trying to get comfortable despite your bashfulness.

“You and Captain Price seem a lot closer.” Dr. Keller says as she sits across from you on the couch.

You nod. “Yeah. We, uh, we have gotten closer.” You chew on your lip. “We slept together...on Saturday night. Had a date, he cooked dinner. Then we...did it.”

Dr. Keller’s brows raise at your words, her face surprised. “Oh? Is that so? Is that something you wanted?”

You nod. “I asked him if he’d do it. I wanted my first time to be when I could remember it...before I would feel like it was something that had to be done.”

Dr. Keller hums, writing something down. “Did you have fun?”

Your face warms at her words, and you halfway wish the chair would swallow you whole. You nod, hiding your fingers beneath your sleeves again. “Yeah. I uh, started nesting too.”

Dr. Keller’s face breaks out into a huge smile. “That’s great! That’s fantastic news! Perfect timing too.”

You nod. “Yeah. Started on Sunday. Been feeling it since.”

“Good. That gives us one less thing to worry about.” She sets her notebook aside, crossing her legs as she stares at you. “How do you feel about your heat coming so soon?”

“Nervous.” You answer honestly.

“It can be a bit daunting, I’d imagine, your first heat with an alpha. Captain Price knows what he’s doing, though. He and Sergeant Garrick will take good care of you.”

“I know.” You say, fiddling with your sleeves. “It’s still scary. A lot of things can happen and...what if one of them does?”

“It’s not very likely.” Dr. Keller reassures you. “Captain Price knows what he’s doing. He’s experienced with omegas and heats and the likelihood of him losing control is small, even after so long without any contact with an omega. It sounds like Sergeant Garrick has educated himself on things to look for, and what to do to help. I’ll be ready and on call the entire time as well. I’ll make regular check-ins with Sergeant Garrick too, to make sure everything is going smoothly. You’re not alone in this. We’ll all make sure you’re well taken care of. I know it’s a lot to ask you to trust people that are still somewhat strangers, but we all have your best interests in mind here.”

“I know.” You say quietly. “It’s hard, not knowing much of anything. They tell you everything you should expect at the institute over and over again, then you get in it and everything is different. Nothing is like it should be. Nothing like they said. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“I know. You were prepared for one life and got an entirely different one. Lucky for you, though, you’re surrounded by very understanding people who are more than happy to help you. I know this is so far from ideal for you, but I think you’re doing a fantastic job with what you were handed.”

You stare at your hands, thinking over her words. John’s called you a good omega before. He’s called you that a few times. He thinks you’re doing a good job, despite the fact you feel like none of your skills are useful here. Despite the fact you feel like you haven’t been trying.

You think over everything they’ve done for you, how hard they’ve tried to help make you as comfortable as possible. She’s right. They’re all so understanding and you know they like you. You can see it in their reactions to you, you can smell it on them. You know Gaz won’t let anything happen to you, even if something goes wrong.

They have yet to prove themselves untrustworthy, for the most part.

Maybe you really don’t have anything to worry about.

“Come on.” Ghost says, standing in your doorway. You almost don't recognize him in a beanie and surgical mask instead of his usual balaclava. “Get shoes on, and let’s go.”

“Go where?” You ask, sitting up on your bed.

“Shopping.” He says, before turning on his heel.

You frown, but do as he says, slipping on comfortable shoes and grabbing your phone. You head down the hall towards the door, a familiar car parked outside. Price and Ghost are waiting next to the car, both dressed in civilian clothes. You approach them hesitantly, suddenly feeling intimidated in the presence of the two alphas. You know you have nothing to worry about, but this is the first time you'll be alone with both of them.

Ghost steps up to you, a bottle in his hand. You barely have time to hold your breath before he sprays you down with scent blocker, the harsh chemicals burning your nose as they settle on your skin and cut off your scent. It's necessary, even with two alphas around you.

“Ready?” John asks, letting his eyes scan over your form for a second. He could probably pick up on your tension and uneasy energy from a mile away.

“Can...Can I ask why?” You ask as John opens the back door for you.

“Well, we can't have you starving to death on us, can we?” John smiles. “And we need to get a few things for your heat.”

“Oh.” You say, blinking up at him.

“Hop in. Hopefully we can get the shopping done before dinner.” John says.

Before you get hungry again.

You climb in the backseat, John closing the door before getting in the driver's side. Ghost is already in the passenger seat, buckled in and ready.

You sit and watch the landscape pass by, the car quiet except for the radio. The contrast between the two betas and the two alphas is almost as distinct as night and day. Johnny and Gaz had talked almost nonstop the entire drive to and back from town. Ghost and Price seem content in their silence, Ghost watching the landscape pass just like you.

It speaks volumes of their trust and ease with each other.

The farmlands turn to city and you find yourself back at Asda again. You hold John's hand as you walk, Ghost taking your other side, sandwiching you between them. People stare as you pass, their eyes on Ghost, but he doesn't even seem to notice.

You stick close to John as you walk through the store, picking up items you'll need for your heat, as well as some other things. Ghost follows like a shadow, people giving you a wide berth when they spot him. You're almost grateful for it. You swear some of them can tell you're about to start your heat, their eyes burning into you as they pass.

You can feel the beginnings of hunger starting to creep in as you walk down the bed liner aisle. You know if you weren't starting to get hungry, you would have been close to combusting from the knowledge of why this aisle was necessary.

You let out a sigh, leaning your head against John's arm as he crosses the bed liner off the list.

“What?” He asks, amusement in his voice.

“You know what I miss?” You say, wrapping your arms around one of his. “Good authentic Mexican food.”

The corner of John's lips lift in a smile. “Yeah? You getting hungry again?”

You nod, a subtle whine to your tone. “Yeah.”

John turns to look at Ghost, the two alphas having a seconds long silent conversation before Ghost heads off, disappearing from the aisle.

“Where's he going?” You ask.

“Getting a head start on the other supplies for your heat.” John says. “Just a couple more things, then your snacks and we'll be done and we'll get some dinner.”

You stop as you turn the corner around the end of the aisle, your eyes spotting a giant teddy bear. It looks soft and squishy, your pre-heat addled brain already picturing the perfect spot for it in your nest.

“You want it?” John asks, looking between you and the bear.

You snap back into reality for a moment, glancing up at the price. You nearly die on the spot, shaking your head. “I-I don't...”

John turns you to face him, speaking firmly. “Do you want it?”

You stare up into his eyes, nodding slowly.

His gaze softens just a bit, a smile tugging at his lips. “Then grab it.”

You're moving before you can even have a second thought, wrapping your arms around it and lifting it off the shelf. It's just as soft as you thought it would be, nearly as big as you are too. You can imagine cuddling it in your nest, napping contently, surrounded in soft plushness.

“C'mon pup.” John says, patting your back gently. You're purring, you realize suddenly, the sound leaving you entirely unconsciously. “Let's get you some snacks then we'll get dinner.”

You carry the bear, following John to the grocery section of the store. He takes you to the snack aisle and you pass the bear off to him, grabbing anything and everything that looks good, loading up the cart. You grab a few things from the American section as well, snacks you didn't think you'd miss, but right now they sound like manna straight from heaven.

“Simon's done with his part.” John says, glancing at his phone. “We'll meet back at the car.”

You take the bear back once you're done filling the cart with snacks, heading towards the checkout. You're hesitant to let the bear go long enough to be scanned before you're holding it again, purring quietly and contently.

John keeps his arm around you as you walk through the parking lot towards the car. There's already bags in the trunk from Ghost, the alpha already in the passenger seat. They must have both been carrying keys to the car. Safety precautions. Things most people wouldn't even think about.

“Thank you.” You say as John fills the trunk with the rest of the bags. “You didn't have to do this.”

“Yes we did.” John says, looking down at you. “Not going let you starve like that if we can help it.”

“It's still strange to me, getting taken care of.” You say, squeezing the bear. “Still makes me feel a bit like a sugar baby.”

John chuckles. “Don't worry, I won't make you call me daddy.” He leans in close to your ear. “Unless you want to.”

Your face burns hot, your entire body igniting with heat at his words. He gives you a gentle pat on the ass, directing you to the door of the car before taking the cart back to the store.

Your face is still burning as you attempt to climb into the car with your bear, giving up and stuffing it in first.

“What the hell is that?” Ghosts asks, turning to look at you.

“My new bear.” You respond, arranging the bear so its sitting in the seat beside you.

“Christ.” He breathes, and you can practically hear the eye roll as you buckle the bear in.

You buckle yourself in as John climbs in the driver's seat.

“All set?” He asks, turning to look at you.

You nod, smiling happily despite the hunger eating away at you.

“Let's get some dinner, then we'll head back to base.” John says, turning on the car. “Can't have our omega starving on us, can we?”

Ghost snorts. “Best feed her before she decides we look appetizing.”

You wrinkle your nose. “You'd be too gamey, Ghost.” You say, eyeing him before turning your gaze to the seat in front of you. “John, though...” You lick your lips. “I already know you taste good.”

John lets out a deep chuckle that rumbles with the edge of a pleased growl. “Easy, kitten.”

Ghost lets out a heavy sigh, running a hand over his face. “Spare me. Now there's two of ‘em.”

John chuckles again, squeezing Ghost's shoulder. “Little did you know, Simon.”

Ghost turns to look at John. “Is it too late to get a refund?”

You stifle a giggle as John smiles. “You'll have to ask Laswell.”

Ghost sighs, turning to look out the window. “No hope for it, then.”

“Hey, at least I'm cute!” You grin. “Don't tell Johnny I said that.”

You practically beam with pride as you see Ghost's shoulders shake with his laughter. Maybe you can get through to him more than you think you can.

Maybe, just maybe, you can get him to like you.

The knock comes at your door unexpectedly. It's late, and you had just begun to feel the pangs of hunger once more. You hate it, but you know it's necessary considering you'll have to go roughly a week getting in nothing but what nutrient bars can offer while exerting insane amounts of energy. Your body needs to store the calories now so that you don't die during your heat.

You're surprised to see Ghost on the other side of the door, back in his balaclava. His shoulders are squared, but you can't scent any anger or hostility on him.

He almost seems...nervous.

“Hungry?” He asks, staring down at you.

“Always.” You answer almost instinctively, staring up into his deep brown eyes.

He motions for you to follow with his head. “C'mon.”

You frown a little, but you step out of your room, closing the door behind you. You follow him towards the rec room, staring at his broad back. His shoulders are still squared, hands in his pockets.

The rec room is set up again not unlike it was for your date with John. The card table is out and there's foil covered dishes on it, along with a couple plates. Your brows raise in surprise as you take it all in.

“I made you something.” Ghost says, moving over to the table, removing the foil from one of the dishes.

You move closer, blinking in surprise. “You made...enchiladas?”

He nods. “As close as I could get with what I could find on short notice. There's rice and beans, too. And salsa.”

Tears blur your vision as you stare down at the food on the table. It smells delicious and that's not just your ravenous pre-heat hunger talking. “You...did this for me?”

“Well, I had help,” He says, looking past you.

You turn, Soap and Gaz standing at the windows that frame the door to the rec room. They smile and wave at you as you turn to look at them. A quiet laugh leaves your mouth as you smile at them.

“Help yourself.” Ghost says as you turn back to the table. “There's plenty.”

You serve yourself a plate, nearly melting off the chair as you take the first bite. It takes you all the way back home, the good years when your father was stationed in Texas.

“Taste okay?” Ghost asks, watching you. “I know it's not authentic, but I did a lot of research.”

“It's amazing, Ghost. Really.” You say. “Tastes just like the ones my mom would make.” You wipe at the tears in your eyes. “Thank you for doing this.”

He shrugs, looking almost bashful. “It's the least I could do. I know how big of a deal heats are to omegas and how nervous you've been. Thought you could use a little comfort.”

You smile softly. “That means a lot.” You can't help but giggle softly. “I knew you liked me deep down.”

He gives you a look, making you giggle even more. “Don't push it.”

NEXT ->

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#call of duty #call of duty fanfic #tf 141 x reader #task force 141 x reader #141 x reader #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #soap x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #x reader #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #a/b/o #omegaverse

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spideyjimin · 2 months ago

Text

Bloodlines entwined: II | jjk

⤷ having a baby alone was supposed to be easy. but an accidental twist of fate pulled you into a hidden world of werewolves, and ancient bloodlines. navigating your already complicated life becomes even harder as you uncover your past; one tied to a legacy you never knew existed. and in the middle of this chaos stands jungkook, the werewolf king… and the father of your child.

— pairing: werewolf!jungkook x female reader

— genre: strangers to lovers, parents-to-be au, royalty au, werewolves au, soulmates au, angst, fluff, and smut

— rating: 18+

— words: 6,210

— warnings: mentions of grief, death, abortion, murder, breakup, and heartbreak, nervousness, and strong language

— author’s note: soooo this second chapter is basically the base for all the upcoming chapters. you’ll that it implements many important points, and i’m actually very excited to see your reactions 😬 it wasn’t an easy one to write as i couldn’t reveal everything straight away. hope you’ll like it & thanks a lot for your support on this series 🫶🏼

taglist is closed!

Chapter II: hearts in conflict

SERIES MASTERLIST | previous | next

Jungkook paces back and forth in his living room.

Since he was informed of the clinic’s mistake, he’s been torn apart between his duty and his heart. He’s been desiring to become a father for a while now, and he’s been more desperate since he became a king.

Having a child is also part of his responsibility since he needs to ensure his bloodline. Consequently, he needs to have a child with a pure werewolf. The clinic had a list of the eggs they could use. It was simple.

Now, a human was fertilized by his material, and there’s a hybrid child on the way. As a king and a werewolf, he can’t have this child. Hybrids can’t exist; it’s the rule. Nobody will ever take him seriously if their king doesn’t even respect the rules.

His eyes then fall on a family picture. That picture was taken five years ago, when his father was still alive. Even if he passed away two years ago, it’s still extremely hard for Jungkook to deal with his grief. He got used to it, but it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt.

Jungkook wonders what his father would have done if he was in this situation. Would he have pushed for the pregnancy’s termination? Would he have walked away? Or would he have stayed and raised the baby?

Then, he remembers the one time when a werewolf fell in love with a human. The human got pregnant, and his father discovered it. He exceptionally showed mercy to the couple and spared them, but they had to terminate the pregnancy and part ways.

Jungkook’s father kept a close eye on them to ensure they wouldn’t get back together discreetly. Jungkook remembers how he felt back then; he thought that his father was way too nice. They should have been killed like it was done in the past.

His father then explained to him how things are never black and white. There are also grey areas. The werewolf in question was one of the best in the pack so killing him would mean putting the pack in danger. He had to make a decision, a difficult one. So, he decided to show some mercy. He knew that in return, the werewolf would be grateful.

His father was right. That werewolf never crossed the line again, but he also never got married or had any children. Deep down, Jungkook knows that he never stopped loving the human.

But if his father was in his shoes, he believes that he would have never accepted a hybrid to exist. Especially one that carries his blood.

Jungkook rubs his hand on his face with frustration. Stepping away seems to be the right decision, but at the same time, it doesn’t feel like it. He’s not supposed to encourage you to keep the baby, and he’s also not supposed to desire to have this baby.

There has never been a hybrid.

Jungkook is also curious to see what a hybrid is like and how this kind of pregnancy goes. When a werewolf gets pregnant, all her abilities are enhanced. It’s like she gets even more powerful to give everything to her child. It’s really mind-blowing. He got to see it firsthand with his sister; she’s currently pregnant with her fourth child.

But you’re a human and the baby won’t fully be a werewolf. So, everything will be different. He wonders if this baby will be born as a human and develop way later on their werewolf side. There are a lot of unknowns because people are always killed when this type of pregnancy is discovered.

This entire situation is frustrating.

The man growls before shifting into a wolf and disappearing into the woods next to his house. Jungkook wants to escape his ‘human’ thoughts, he wants to forget that this is all happening.

Running in the woods has always been his escape. He adores the smell of nature, the air running through his face, the feeling of the soil under his paws, and the way his mind only focuses on that and nothing else.

Following his father’s passing, he disappeared into the woods for days. It helped him process this new reality; it gave him time to grieve his father in silence before endorsing the heavy role of being a king.

However, this time, even being a wolf doesn’t change anything. His mind pictures a little child running next to him; a child he’ll train to be a perfect wolf. This child is actually growing inside your stomach right now, but that kid can’t exist.

Jungkook is also aware that with time, wolves have this growing urge to have children. He has reached that peak, and it’s why he’s been going through this whole process of having a kid. There’s also the ‘natural’ aspect which means having sex, but he can contain that part for now.

On top of that, he’s also looking for his soulmate. The person with whom he’ll mate for life. In the werewolf community, when you choose your partner, you stay with them until your last breath. When you find them, apparently, you know it.

His parents and his sister have already described how they felt. When you meet your person, you instantly feel like you’re one person. You’re connected in all aspects. It seems weird, and until you don’t find that one person, you won’t ever understand it.

Jungkook sometimes feels like he’s never going to find his person, and sometimes, it feels like a suffocating feeling. His community expects him to find his queen, to give a queen to the werewolves. But he wonders what will happen if he never finds her.

One thing is for sure, he’s single with a human child on the way. His life couldn’t be more chaotic than that.

Even though he won’t ever make part of his child's life, he’ll protect you no matter what decision you make in case anyone ever finds out about this.

Later in the day, his sister, Dohee appeared with her three children at his place. Since she’s in the last trimester of her pregnancy, she doesn’t do much, so she randomly shows up at her brother’s place as if he doesn’t have anything to do.

However, Jungkook adores to be around his nieces and nephew. He simply loves kids, and he would never mind being interrupted by children. He’ll never admit it, but he also loves to have his sister coming. They have a very strong bond.

“How’s the big wolfy king Jungkook doing?” she says while entering his office, and he rolls his eyes.

His sister never stops teasing him, but it’s the way she shows her love.

“Always making fun of me, wolfy princess,” he claps back.

The kids run to hug him. Since they are small, they hug his legs.

“Uncle Kookie,” they scream with joy.

These three little humans are the only ones who have the right to call him ‘Kookie’. His other family members also have the right, but he’d prefer ‘Kook’. ‘Kookie’ sounds childish.

“Hey, monsters,” he greets his nieces and nephew while ruffling their hair.

His sister has two daughters, Hana and Yuri, and one boy, Hwan. She’s expecting a second boy, and she said it’d be the last kid she’ll have. Four pregnancies in seven years are more than enough, those are her words.

“Can we go to your garden?” Hana, the oldest asks him.

Jungkook nods and the kids disappear as rapidly as they stormed inside the room. They like to play around in what they call his garden. It actually is the woods, but if they want to call it ‘garden’, Jungkook will be the last person to correct them.

“So, mom told me about that surrogacy thing…” she takes a seat while caressing her pretty big bump. “Care to explain why I heard from her instead of you?”

Jungkook can see in his sister’s eyes how concerned and sad she is. He can only understand her; he’d be hurt if he discovered something this huge by their mother.

“Don’t know…” he whispers. “My mind has been all over the place lately.”

Dohee nods. “A lot has been going on,” she murmurs.

For sure, as a king, things aren’t easy. There are a lot of responsibilities, and whenever things get rough, he has to decide.

“Yep,” he adds.

Jungkook sighs before falling on his desk’s chair. His fingers run through his hair while he closes his eyes. He’s already been thinking too much about your insemination.

As she sees her brother, Dohee now gets worried. The surrogacy journey should be a happy one; it’s one that’ll allow him to have a family. She knows how much he craves to become a father, and the council has also put a lot of pressure on him even if Jungkook will never admit it.

“What’s going on, Kook?” she asks with obvious concern.

Jungkook doesn’t know what to do. Does he reveal the truth to his sister? Or does he pretend that nothing is going on? For sure, he needs to vent to someone. His sister might be the one who could hear him without instantly bringing the “bloodline purity law”. She’ll see the problem for what it truly is.

“I sought the help of a well-known clinic that has helped a lot of werewolves,” he opens his eyes to face his sister’s gaze. “It was supposed to be simple; I chose the progenitor, gave them the sperm, and they only had to implant it in a human surrogate,” he explains.

Dohee carefully listens to her brother, very intrigued with what he has to say. She can see the despair in his eyes. It breaks her heart to see him like that.

“But they called me like five days ago to tell me they made a mistake…” he looks away, not able to reveal the truth while looking at her. “They swapped up the samples and they inseminated a human with my sperm.”

Her eyes widen at his words. That’s an unbelievable news! How can a fertility clinic make such a huge mistake?

“That’s a hell of a mistake!” she directly says.

“I know…” he whispers before looking again at his sister. “The thing is that the woman was there to have a baby on her own. I met her the other day to discuss this whole situation,” he tells her. “The clinic suggested to terminate the pregnancy if we desire it. I told that woman that I couldn’t have the baby and why I couldn’t.”

“You told her you’re a werewolf?” Dohee cuts him off.

“I couldn’t do otherwise! She was embarked in this world by a stupid mistake. She needed to know,” he almost screams at his sister.

“Tell me you convinced her to terminate the pregnancy,” she begs her brother with a firm tone.

When Dohee notices the non-reaction of her brother, she instantly understands the extent of the situation.

“Jungkook…” she says.

“I can’t tell her that, Dodo,” he says while closing his eyes. “I can’t force her to do that, it’s her body.”

Now, she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Her brother is in a hell of a situation. This is way too crazy!

“I told her I’d walk away if she keeps the baby,” he confesses. Both of them open their eyes to look at each other intensely. “But I don’t know if I can do that…” he admits.

She can understand her brother’s perspective; having a child is such a joyous thing. But there’s too much at stake, and she doesn’t want to have her brother killed because of this. It will only create chaos. Thankfully, they have two other brothers, and the Jeon family will remain as the ruling family. But their image will forever be destroyed. How could the other packs and even their own respect them anymore?

She’s scared of what this all could generate. Even if he walks away, a part of him will stay around. She knows her brother too well. Somebody will eventually discover about this hybrid kid, and the council will be informed right away. They will show no mercy to execute him, and their own pack will as well make sure a traitor is killed. The poor woman will face the same punishment, and she didn’t ask for any of this.

“She’s hesitating and she doesn’t know what to do yet,” he adds as he notices her sister doesn’t say anything.

“If you step out, you really need to,” she explains. “You can’t check her up nor this child to make sure nobody ever finds out about them.”

There’s a possibility that nobody ever finds out, but Jungkook has to completely walk away to truly protect them.

“This child can’t ever know who his biological father is otherwise they could claim the heir title due to being your firstborn.”

That’s an aspect Jungkook never considered. This child could indeed pretend to the throne if they wanted, even though it would never be accepted by the other packs.

“This is what I can advise you, big bro,” she adds.

“Thanks, Dodo,” he answers. “I really needed to speak about this with someone.”

She offers him a little smile before they change the conversation’s topic.

A week has passed since Jungkook told you about his secret. Since then, you’ve been doing everything to not think about it. You’ve not even thought about what you’ll do with the child growing inside of you.

You don’t want to face the truth. There’s a werewolf universe; one that your child will be a part of. What will you do if you keep them? Will you be able to face their werewolf side? Will you ever reach out to Jungkook for help?

There are so many questions, but you don’t want to think about them. All you desire is to forget about all of this.

Today, you’re meeting Felix at a cozy café. It’s your usual Thursday meeting. It’s been like that since you moved out, and you’ve been grateful to have these moments with your father. However, for today’s meeting, you’re feeling kind of nervous. You know he’s going to raise questions about your pregnancy while you don’t even know what to do.

“Sweetheart,” Felix welcomes you with a hug.

You hold onto him like you’re holding on for dear life. Now that you have him in front of you, it reassures you beyond comprehension. It feels like you can let go of whatever is going on in your head.

“Are you okay, angel?” he asks.

He breaks the hug, takes one step back, and looks at you with evident concern.

“Not really,” you admit.

The two of you sit down; worry never leaving his eyes. Felix has noticed that you’ve been distant these past few days. He didn’t say anything because he thought that you needed time and space to deal with the pregnancy’s early days. He still remembers how his late wife was when she was pregnant with Lexi.

Now, he realizes that there’s something more. He can tell it by the way you respond and how tired you look.

“What’s been going on?” he says the second you’re both sitting.

You bite your lower lip, deeply thinking about what you should say. There’s absolutely no way that you’ll reveal the werewolf universe, he’ll never believe you.

“The fertility clinic made a mistake,” you finally say.

He furrows his eyebrows.

“They swapped the donor sample with somebody else’s sample,” you continue. “That man turned to the clinic to have a child through surrogacy.”

So far, Felix doesn’t really understand where the problem is.

“The thing is that the clinic contacted us both to inform us of the mistake, so I’ve met him, and it destroyed the entire plan,” you rub your face with your hands. “I felt like I lost control of my life all over again.”

Now, he understands everything. Since you’ve lost your parents, he’s seen how you’ve been trying to gain control over your life. But you’ve been struggling your entire life. This thing of being a mother alone felt like you were gaining control.

“They will refund the treatment and suggested we could terminate the pregnancy.”

Felix believes that it’s the least the clinic could do to compensate for their mistake.

“The father said he doesn’t want the child but doesn’t want to force me to abort, so it’s really up to me…” you feel like you’re about to cry.

The sixty years old man lets you speak without interrupting you.

“It’s such a difficult decision,” you admit. “I thought having a baby on my own would be simple… but nothing about this seems simple anymore. I’ve stepped into something I can’t control.”

He nods, understanding your dilemma. All he can do right now is to reassure you, because he can’t choose for you. That decision is yours, and only yours. At least, that’s the thing you can control in this entire situation.

“You’ve always been strong, yn,” he says. “You’ve faced so much loss, but you’ve found a way forward. There’s no need to figure everything out today.”

You’d like to think that it’d be as easy as Felix makes it sound. There’s a legal limit for abortion; you can’t spend weeks wondering what to do.

“But time is running, and I can’t hesitate forever.”

Your father figure smiles at you while grabbing your hands.

“I know, but I trust you. I don’t doubt you’ll find the answer on time.”

You smile back at him. Even though his words are comforting, they don’t really help. You don’t know what to do with the life growing inside you. A life that you can hear and feel. A life half human and half werewolf.

“Sometimes I feel different,” you start saying with hesitation.

You can’t reveal the true nature of Jungkook, but you’d still like to speak a bit about it with Felix. Maybe he’ll be able to reassure you about it.

“Like there’s something beneath the surface that I can’t put into words,” you continue. “And it scares me.”

This entire situation scares the hell out of you. There are so many what-ifs…

“Whatever this is, yn, trust yourself. You’ve never been alone. Lexi and I have always been by your side through this entire process, and we’ll remain until the end,” he reminds you. “I’m sure you’ll find your way through this.”

You’ve always admired the way Felix trusts you and encourages you also to trust yourself. It has never been easy for the past twenty years, but he’s been the light guiding you through every tough moment. You’re lucky to have him, and you’ll forever be grateful that he took you over after the passing of your parents.

“You’ve inherited your parents’ strength; they left everything behind to offer you a proper life, and even though they didn’t get to see you become the woman you are today, you’ve grown far away from that family that never wanted you.”

Being reminded that your grandparents disapproved of your parents’ relationship and your existence breaks your heart. You would have loved that things were different. You would have loved to meet them. You don’t know anything about your family. You don’t even know where your parents originally are from.

You know Felix and your parents have been trying to protect you, but you’ve always wanted to discover the truth, to understand why your grandparents didn’t want your parents to be together. You ignore so many things, but you haven’t been able to discover anything about your parents’ past. Whatever happened, it’s like it was erased.

And you also are a hundred percent sure that your parents’ murder is related to this family story. You don’t know how, but you feel it in your guts. When you think about it, it sends shivers down your spine because there’s a tiny possibility that your grandparents killed your parents.

“Did you ever meet my grandparents?” you dare to ask.

Your entire life you’ve hesitated to question Felix about the family issues. It wasn’t his place to know about it and reveal it to you.

“No,” he answers. “I met your parents after they left their hometown.”

You nod although you aren’t fully convinced about that. You don’t say anything else. Your parents are a touchy subject with Felix; he lost his friends after all. It mustn’t have been easy for him too, especially since he took you over.

“Thanks, Felix for your support,” you smile at him.

Felix squeezes your hands with a bright smile on his face. There’s no doubt that this moment has reassured and comforted you a lot. Now all you have to do is face the situation and really think about what you’ll do.

On your way back to your apartment, you could swear you felt Jungkook’s presence nearby. It’s not logical, not even remotely possible. However, every fiber of your being screams ‘he’s here’. You walked slower as your eyes scanned every corner and alley, looking for someone that isn’t there.

You paused at a streetlight, slowly turning around. He’s here. You’re certain of it. But where? How? You pull your jacket tighter around you, shake your head, and start walking. Even though you’re getting closer to your apartment building, the feeling doesn’t fade. It clings to you like a second skin. You’re not scared, not really. If anything, you feel protected as if someone is watching over you.

As you step into the lobby of the complex building, the feeling slowly starts to fade away. But even as you stand in the elevator, you can’t shake the sensation. You felt him; you know you did. And it terrifies you just as much as it comforts you.

Once inside your apartment, you directly walk to your couch after removing your coat and shoes. You sink onto it as you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding back. Nothing really feels normal anymore. Everything is just different now.

You wrap your arms around yourself to kind of protect yourself. You must admit that you’re a bit scared of what the future might hold for you. There’s a baby growing inside you; one you deeply desire, but that baby is linked to a world you never knew existed two weeks ago. And it’s a baby whose father doesn’t want them.

Your right hand snails down to your stomach as you think about this child. You’ve spent so much time dreaming about this. About holding a tiny life in your arms. About creating a family that felt yours. But this? This isn’t what you planned.

However, you can hear Felix’s words inside your head. He’ll be there for you; he’ll support you in whatever decision you make. You know that you won’t be alone in this process. You’ll have him and Lexi, and your friends too.

And there’s Jungkook…

You shake the thought away. He was very clear; he doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want you. You feel a bit sad for him. He wanted a child otherwise, he wouldn’t have sought the clinic’s help. And now, he has a child with a human which is completely forbidden in his world. It mustn’t be easy for him too.

As you caress your stomach, trying to comfort you and the baby, you realize that maybe, just maybe, you want to keep the baby. It’s not a definitive decision, not yet. You still doubt it, and there’s still some fear within you related to this whole werewolf thing.

But for the first time since the clinic’s mistake, you feel like you’re slowly leaning into a choice. It doesn’t feel like you’re still completely torn apart by the two choices. It’s still an uncertain choice. But it’s yours.

Tonight, it’s been hard for you to properly sleep. You’ve been turning in your bed, trying to find the right position to sleep. But none of them seems to be the right one. The city light picking through the curtains seems also not to help you. It feels like the world doesn’t want to let you sleep.

On top of that, when you close your eyes, your mind instantly goes to Jungkook. You relive again the moment he revealed his true nature; you see again his intense gaze on you and how his eyes turned red.

“Why can’t I stop thinking about him?” your voice is barely audible in the silence of the room.

Your hands move down to your stomach for the millionth time today. Whenever you think about Jungkook, you’re reminded of the life growing inside you. A life that wouldn’t exist without him.

You end up giving up and sit up, your back leaning against the headboard. You look around, your room is a complete mess, just like your mind. A couple of weeks ago, while looking at your bedroom, you were thinking about how it would change once you become a mother.

Now, you’re facing a reality where werewolves exist. A reality where Jungkook rejected the baby. A reality where you still don’t know what to do. And it feels like it’s crushing you. It feels like all this constant thinking is suffocating you, like the city noise.

But then, subtly something changes.

A warmth starts spreading through your chest. It’s like when the sunlight breaks through the heavy grey clouds. It’s like receiving a hug from a loved person. It’s reassuring and comforting. You close your eyes, your eyebrows furrowing as you feel the same presence as earlier today. However, this time, it’s not physical, but it feels real.

It’s Jungkook.

You can’t explain it, but you know. You’d like to say that you’re going crazy, but it doesn’t feel like it. You feel his presence, and you don’t know how.

“Jungkook,” you whisper while opening your eyes.

From afar, Jungkook is sitting in his study, looking at the forest through a large window. His expression is tight, and his jaw is clenched. He’s been more than ever nervous and stressed.

Suddenly, a very faint whisper of his name brushes against his mind. His eyes widen slightly as he feels something, or should he say, someone. He then closes his eyes to feel this sudden connection.

For a brief moment, he swears he can feel you. He can feel your confusion, your exhaustion, but also your strength. He takes deep breaths, trying to push away whatever this is. He isn’t supposed to feel any of this with a human. He isn’t supposed to be connected to a human.

But it seems like nothing makes sense anymore.

There are many things that aren’t supposed to exist or to make sense, but everything shifted the second you came into his life.

As the sensation fades away, he runs a hand through his hair while you wonder what the heck just happened.

Jungkook’s eyes look at the moon peeking through the clouds. It’s a beautiful moon even though it’s not the full moon yet.

“Mister Jeon,” his footman enters the study room. “Yuna is waiting at the door, she’d like to speak with you. Do I let her in?”

The king hesitates for a couple of seconds, but then proceeds to let her in. He wonders what she’s doing here, and he’s very curious to know about it.

Yuna, his ex-girlfriend arrives quite rapidly and with a lot of grace. She’s still as pretty as he remembers, it’s like she didn’t change in over a year. His heart starts pounding rapidly in his chest, making him wonder if he still loves her. Undoubtedly, he isn’t unaffected by her.

Jungkook stands up and she bows to him once in front of him. “Your Majesty,” she says.

It’s weird to see her doing that; it’s the first time she ever does it. When he became a king, she was his girlfriend, and he refused to let her bow to him even though they weren’t equals. To him, it didn’t make any sense for all that. However, today, she represents nothing to him. She’s just a simple werewolf.

“Yuna,” he firstly says. “What brings you here?”

“You’ve been avoiding me, Jungkook,” Yuna is draped in an elegant coat, and Jungkook can see a red dress beneath the coat.

Jungkook sits back down on the chair, rubbing his temple. Of course, he’s been avoiding her because she’s his ex. It wouldn’t make sense to run after her, especially when she’s the one who walked away in the first place.

“I’ve seen it at The Bloods’ gala, the council monthly meeting, and last full moon,” she adds.

The further he is from her, the better he feels. But it’s nearly impossible. She’s the descendant of one of the most ancient families of The Bloods’ pack. Her family is powerful, but definitely not as powerful as Jeon’s family. Both families share a history, but that’s it.

“What did you expect?” he asks.

A year ago, she walked away, and Jungkook didn’t fight for her. When he became a king, he had to navigate this entirely new role while coping with grief. Yuna was kind of obsessed with the possibility of her becoming the next queen and mother to the future heir. She wasn’t there when he needed her.

Instead of navigating this together, they isolated themselves. She was constantly complaining about the fact that he wasn’t paying any attention to her. She desired the power he could grant her, but she felt like she didn’t matter. She felt unloved and unfulfilled in the relationship.

So, she walked away, and he let her go.

Jungkook thought that it was for the best. It simply was too hard for him to deal with everything, and his role absorbed all the pain he felt when she left. It was a five-year-long relationship, he still loved her even though his love changed over time.

“Well, at least, a simple ‘hello’,” she answers before crossing her arms against her chest.

Yuna never imagined things would turn out like this when she left. She deeply regrets what she did, and she has been contemplating for a while to win her king back.

“Unless I have to, I’d never come to you to say ‘hello’,” he instantly snaps back.

Without asking for permission, she takes a seat on the couch near her. She seems infuriated but doesn’t let it break her shell.

“There are rumors…” she murmurs. “Saying that you’ve been busy, trying to secure the lineage.”

Over the past months, a lot of rumors have been circulating about him. Some are saying that he’s with someone, others that he’s engaged, and others stating the truth—that he’s been trying to have a child. As usual, he hasn’t said a damn thing.

“Well, those are only rumors,” he answers, trying to hide away any expression that might betray him.

For a split second, his mind pictures you smiling. A smile he caused when he handed you the small box of pastries. Technically speaking, you’ve secured his lineage.

“I believe them,” she says. “I knew how much you wanted a child, and you’re a terrible liar,” she adds. “Now, I’m left wondering if you’re doing this through surrogacy or if you really got someone pregnant.”

“Yuna is definitely smart,” Jungkook mumbles to himself. It has always impressed him how intelligent she can be when something gets her attention. This seems to be a hot topic for her.

“And if someone is pregnant, it might mean that you’re seeing someone.”

A smile appears on his face, his eyes looking right through hers. She’s way too curious about this, and he definitely wants to leave her wondering even more. But this woman could find you if he leaves her in the dark, and that is something he can’t let happen. He has to protect you from his world.

“Maybe, it’s neither option,” he answers.

She narrows her eyes as if she’s trying to see which option is the correct one.

“If it’s none of them, then I can help you with that.”

Jungkook instantly laughs; this woman is beyond crazy. She can’t come back just like that. Their relationship died a year ago so there’s no turning back. Plus, making her the mother of his child would give her the power she tried to have when he became a king. Jungkook isn’t that stupid.

“You can keep it to yourself,” he says. “I don’t need it.”

If they were still together, they would most probably be expecting a baby. Or they would have already been parents.

“And if you only came to throw me that bullshit, you can leave,” he adds. “I’ve more important things to deal with.”

Those last words profoundly hurt her, but again, she doesn’t show it. She stands up and walks closer to him before bending down, her lips near his ear. Surprisingly, this closeness doesn’t make him shiver like it used to.

“It’s just the beginning, baby,” she whispers. “You won’t get rid of me so easily.”

She presses a kiss on his cheek before vanishing. Jungkook closes his eyes, a deep breath escaping his lips. This is the last thing he needs right now. He already has so much on his plate, and he doesn’t want to have to deal with his ex.

“What did I do to deserve all of this?” he whispers.

With his eyes closed, his mind gets lost in visions of your face. They appease him in an unexplainable way. Nobody has ever had such an effect on him—even less a human. He doesn’t really know what to do. Maybe for now, it’s best to simply ignore all of this.

However, he wants to make sure that you’re safe. He’s scared that Yuna might discover you and put your life in jeopardy. If she ever finds out about you, she’ll do everything in her power to give you the same treatment previous humans had in the same situation. Death.

Jungkook totally ignores your address, but he’s a king and a werewolf. He could find you by your smell or if he asks someone to look for you. Well, being honest, he has already done some research about you. He wanted to discover who you are. Wanted to know who the mother of his unborn child was.

He shifts into a wolf before running through the forest. He could have run through the city, but people would see him which is risky. Although some werewolves do that, he’s the king. He can’t make any reckless move. His world needs to be protected; he made an oath when he succeeded his father.

Once he’s near your place, he shifts back to his human form and walks up until he’s near enough to see you through the window. Based on his research, this is the place of a certain Felix, a man who took you over after the passing of your parents. He’s the man that truly raised you.

His gaze finds you quite rapidly. It seems that you’re in a living room animatedly speaking with two men and a woman. One of the men seems to be in his fifties-sixties so he’d guess it’s Felix. The girl he’d say that it’s Lexi, Felix’s daughter; she looks a lot like him. The second man seems to be a complete stranger. Maybe a friend or something like that.

Jungkook checks the surroundings to make sure nobody— especially a werewolf— is around. As he realizes you’re safe, a strong wave of warmth crashes over him. He’s really scared that something might happen to you because of the little life growing inside you. A life whose little heartbeat he can hear.

Since he met you in the clinic for the first time, he’s been hearing that faint heartbeat. He’s also been able to scent the baby’s smell; it’s kind of human, but not entirely. He knew from the first second that it was his child, but he also knew there was something off. It wasn’t just about the baby, it was also about you. Your scent is different than any other human.

But the only thing he found strange about you is the fact that he couldn’t find anything about your parents. Outside their life here, there’s nothing from before. It’s like they never existed before. It’s definitely odd.

Despite all of that, hearing his child’s heartbeat reassures him. Deep down, since the beginning, he’s been hoping you’d keep the baby. His baby.

Suddenly, you look out the window. Under a streetlamp, not too far away, you notice someone looking in your direction. For a very split second, you feel scared, but you’re suddenly reassured. Even though you can’t see the person’s face, you know who it is. You can feel his presence. It’s Jungkook.

You get a confirmation when his eyes take a red wolf form. The exact same form when he partially shifted into a wolf.

Jungkook, on his side, can swear that he saw your eyes turned to a blue color. A deep blue with something wolfish about them. It happens so fast, but he knows what he saw. After all, it seems that you’re not human. You’re a werewolf. And it changes everything now.

please note that the taglist is closed!

#bts #bts fanfic #bts imagine #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #bts angst #jungkook angst #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #bts smut #jungkook smut #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bloodlines entwined #bloodlines entwined: chapter 2 #spideyjimin

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shinhyunjin · 15 days ago

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── .✦ little white lies.

⟢ pairing: hwang hyunjin x female!reader

⟢ genre: fluff, non-idol au, established relationship

⟢ word count: 1.9k

⟢ summary: the one where a street interviewer asks the story of how you met.

⟢ author’s note: hello, everyone! i don’t really know what this is, but i clearly got the idea from @/meetcutesnyc on tiktok. i feel like i could maybe turn this into a short series and write one for the rest of the members if you like this one enough. anyway, this is my first fic on this blog, so if you enjoy it please do show it some love<3

“Excuse me, are you two a couple?”

You stop in your tracks at the question, staring at the stranger that was now blocking your way, as he stood in front of you and your boyfriend—a small mic in his hand and cameraman behind him recording the scene before him.

Your first instinct is to look up to Hyunjin, who is already tightening the hold of his hand on yours and pulling you closer to him.

“We are” he doesn’t hesitate to answer.

You find the confused yet protective crease between his eyebrows particularly cute right then, so you smile.

“Would you mind telling us the story of how you met?”

“Oh, you’re that guy?!” You jump in excitement.

Hyunjin’s frown only deepens for a moment, feeling like he is missing a chapter—or a whole book—when the guy in front eagerly nods his head and laughs at your sudden enthusiasm.

One look at you, however, and a glimpse of the smile lighting up your face, is enough for him to go with whatever it is happening right then.

“Baby, they make videos on TikTok asking couples how they met” you explain to him nonetheless, caressing the back of his hand with your thumb to ease the small tension he felt after seeing you interact so comfortably with another guy—a stranger one at that.

“Oh,” Hyunjin lets out, suddenly feeling embarrassed over how defensive he was until then. “We met at an art gallery” he tries to redeem himself by kindly answering the question.

“It was actually kinda funny” you add with a small giggle that has all three guys smiling at you.

“If that’s your way of saying we were one second away from committing a crime, then—”

“Oh, hush” you playfully shut him up, enjoying all too much the dramatic roll of eyes he gives you in response. “It wouldn’t have been a crime. I think”.

Your last addition earns a quiet chuckle from the cameraman, and you wonder if that’s making it into the final video.

“Long story short,” you begin. “I was admiring one of the sculptures, minding my own business, when out of nowhere someone bumped into me. I was caught off guard, of course, so I inevitably lost my balance and bumped into the base that was holding the sculpture” you can’t help but give your boyfriend an accusatory look. “I saw my life flash before my eyes when it started swaying in front of me”.

“I was fast enough to hold it in its place before it fell, though” Hyunjin chimes in before the blame is fully thrown at him. “And thankfully there were only, like, two other people in the room with us and they were too busy checking out the paintings on the walls, so after exchanging panicked looks with this cutie right here, we rushed out of there before we got scolded”.

“We laughed it off as soon as we were in the next room and we couldn’t care less about the stares we got” you explain amidst a small laugh. “It was kind of odd, in a good way, because it felt like we knew each other already”.

“Yeah, it was weird in the best of ways” Hyunjin agrees with an adoring smile. “I obviously wanted to get to know her after that, and I just happened to have an extra ticket to a paid exposition within the main one that day, so I offered it to her in order to apologise for bumping into her and she luckily said yes”.

“And then after that I invited him for coffee to thank him for the ticket”.

Hyunjin chuckles. “And then I asked her out for dinner that same night”.

“So it’s fair to say it was love at first sight?” The guy asks with a grin.

“Definitely” the two of you answer in unison, locking eyes at the realisation and smiling in a way that was hard to tell whether you were aware there were other people in the world.

“We pretty much got together that same day” you admit with a shy smile.

“How long have you guys been together?”

“Four years,” Hyunjin replies.

“Four years and two months” you specify, just for the sake of teasing him.

He smiles and bites his tongue not to add ‘and eleven days’, because that would only lead to you doing the math and figuring out the amount of hours as well, and then him having to figure out the amount of minutes if he wanted to win.

It is a battle you had gone through more than once already, and he refuses to go down that road again—not when there is a camera pointing at you and your whole interaction would be posted on the internet.

“Wow, that’s a long time” the man in front interrupts Hyunjin’s train of thought, bringing the mic closer to you. “What’s your favourite thing about him?”

“Oh, I don’t think I can choose just one” you timidly let him know, looking up to Hyunjin and feeling your cheeks burn as his chocolate eyes are already focused on you, awaiting for an answer. “I really love how sweet and attentive he is. He is always there for me and helps me get through my hardships, even before I even have to ask for his help”.

“And what is your favourite thing about her?” He now asks your boyfriend, who finds himself smiling brightly over your wholesome words and struggling to take his eyes away from you.

“Everything” Hyunjin replies truthfully once he manages to divert his eyes from you—just like you, finding it hard to choose just one thing he loves the most about you. “She’s the most caring and selfless person I’ve ever met. She’s always checking up on me and my family, making sure we’re all okay. And I also need to mention her smile, because whenever she smiles my day is immediately made”.

You give his hand a gentle squeeze and lean your head on his shoulder for a brief moment, unable to hide the emotional pout forming on your lips, as his answer managed to warm your heart.

“So what is the next step in your relationship?”

“Moving in together” Hyunjin answers in a heartbeat, and you are grateful that it doesn’t come off as a surprise, for you had talked about it before—otherwise your heart wouldn’t have been able to take the news of his upcoming plans with you. “We needed to figure a few things out before doing so, but…” he looks down at you, smiling sweetly when your eyes lock and you nod your head, encouraging him to go on. “It’s about time we finally start properly making our life together”.

“And your names are?”

“Y/N” you’re the first to answer.

“I’m Hyunjin” he says.

“Well, thank you so much for your time, Hyunjin and Y/N” the interviewer wraps it up with a smile. “I’m glad you guys are going strong and didn’t end up in jail that day”.

The two of you laugh, and you lean into your boyfriend when he lets go of your hand and gently places his arm over your shoulders instead.

Exchanging goodbyes after being informed that the video would be up the next day, you resume your walk to the all too familiar café around the corner—the one you were heading to before the impromptu street interview took place.

“So those are the kind of videos you’re watching all day…”

“Some of them,” you nod. “I’ve sent you a few here and there. Good to know you don’t actually watch them”.

“I do” he fights back, almost offended you believe he would ever disregard something you showed him. “I thought they were all staged, though. Didn’t know people actually got interviewed on the streets out of nowhere”.

“Is that why you were so defensive when they first approached us?” You laugh.

He huffs, making his bottom lip slightly stick out and having you internally fighting not to kiss him right then. “I thought he was asking if we were a couple in hopes of us not being one, so he could ask you out”.

“Asking me out out of nowhere when I’m walking hand in hand with a guy that is clearly my boyfriend, all while there is a whole cameraman recording us?” You tease with a tilt of your head.

“Hey, who knows?” he defends himself. “Can’t control what kind of weirdos are out there chasing after online views”.

“You’re so cute” you laugh breathily, pressing a soft kiss on his jawline. “We look too much like a couple, if you ask me. They would look stupid to even try”.

“Yeah… I think the hand holding and matching outfits give it away too well” he nods with a teasing smile, motioning to the colour palette you chose together that day.

“Thank God they caught us on a good outfit day” your relieved remark earns a laugh from him. “I can’t wait for the video to be up now, I love the way we met”.

“I know you do,” he softly rubs your hand with his thumb. “Which is why I was surprised you didn’t tell them the whole story”.

“What do you mean?” You frown.

Hyunjin amusedly shakes his head, remaining silent as you reach the café and he holds the door open for you to go in first.

When you’re invaded by the strong yet pleasing scent of coffee and reach the—thankfully—short line to order, he adds, “You left out the part where later on I admitted I intentionally bumped into you just so I could talk to you”.

You laugh at the memory.

It wasn’t like he wanted you to lose your balance and make you almost drop a sculpture that you would be paying until the end of your days, had it actually fallen down and smashed on the ground.

He was just going for a little shove on your shoulder with his own, just enough to make you turn around and allow him to apologise right after. But you were too pretty, and he was too nervous—that alone making him miscalculate the distance between your bodies and slam into your shoulder harder than he had intended to.

He came clean one month into your relationship—the guilt of almost getting you in trouble just because he wasn’t able to earn up the courage to go up and talk to you like any other normal person would, was becoming too much for him to keep a secret for any longer.

You were already in too deep by then to even care, though. If anything, you were flattered that he wanted to get to know you so bad that he ended up coming up with the most stupid—and risky—of ideas in order to do so.

“I thought you weren’t holding back when it came to embarrassing me” he confesses.

You chuckle, shaking your head in both amusement and embarrassment, before pulling him forward in line with you as the people in front do so as well.

“Well, if I did mention that, you would’ve told them about how I already had a ticket to the private exposition and lied about not having one just so I had a reason to stick with you, so…”

Hyunjin’s lips part into a beaming smile, pulling you to him and pressing a kiss to your temple.

Little white lies could sometimes be beneficial; especially when they led you to the best relationship you ever had—the one you were sure would last for the rest of your lives.

“You’re right” he agrees with a smirk. “The internet doesn’t need to know how desperate we both were to get to know each other”.

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focusonkayjay · 14 days ago

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stuck with you | (2/5)

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: computer sci major/ shy/ nerdy! jungkook, econ major/ popular/ influencer! reader, college au, roommates au, roommates to lovers, friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, angst, smut, fluff

Summary: Jungkook’s a hopeless romantic—emphasis on hopeless more than romantic. From the moment he first laid eyes on you, he swore he heard bells chiming, like the angels from above were giving him a cosmic nudge. But he’s always been the awkward, nerdy guy—the one who blends into the background—while you? You felt like a dream way out of his league. Fate, however, had other plans and now, you’re his roommate and living with you—in all your effortless glory—is equal parts chaos and heaven. The only challenge? Keeping his ever-growing feelings in check. That is—until a cocky fuckboy with not-so-pure intentions sets his sights on you, and suddenly, just loving you from the sidelines might not be enough.

Word Count: 20.4k+

Chapter Warnings: butchered representation of a scene from the anime "attack on titan" (im sorryfjhjfghierg), mentions of blood and some gorey stuff because of the anime scene hhhh, jaehyun is a huge dick, heavy on the angst, lots and lots of angst, again some inaccurate econ and comp sci things, oc is just an oblivious cutie </3, did i mention angst

cher's notes: second part is here ahhhh !! there’s a lot happening in this chapter, so buckle up. also — i finally decided this mini series will have 5 parts in total, which means the chapters are gonna be on the longer side because i want to squeeze in everything. and to my lovely EBYT readers — the next part is officially dropping tomorrow YAAAHOOOO. thank you so much for reading and supporting, it means the world. stay tuned and let me know how you’re feeling about this series so far !! now let me go catch up on all your sweet reblogs and replies eeee !!

★ PLAYLIST ★ MOODBOARDS

two: it doesn't take much

"Kook, you free?" you call out, leaning against your doorframe, eyes fixed on Jungkook, who's sprawled across the couch, one arm draped lazily over his stomach as he scrolls through his phone. At the sound of your voice, he instantly looks up. "Yeah, why?" he asks, locking his screen.

"Come here." You don't wait for a response, disappearing into your room and like always, without a second thought, Jungkook gets up, padding down the hall to get to your room.

Jungkook loves your room.

Loves the way your room always carries a faint trace of vanilla intertwined with something floral—jasmine, maybe, or that one candle you always keep burning on your nightstand, housed in a delicate frosted glass jar. He loves how the soft glow of your LED lights bathes the space in warmth, how everything—your desk, your computer, your shelves—is so meticulously arranged.

Your room is just so... you, and every time he steps inside, he can't help but take it all in, admiring the way you've turned four plain walls into something that feels like a world of its own.

His gaze immediately falls on the huge box resting on your bed, and he doesn't even have to ask because frankly speaking, he's seen this sight plenty of times to know it's another PR package.

"Sit." You grin, already taking a seat on your bed, gesturing at the empty spot in front of you. "I got these lip stains in the mail today." you explain, excitement lacing your voice as you pat the box. "Wanna test them out with me? Pleasseeee."

Jungkook wonders why you're even asking, why you're evening saying 'please' because when has he ever said no to you?

He simply huffs out a laugh, shaking his head as he settles onto the bed, sitting criss-cross in front of you like he's your personal test subject. You giggle as you carefully start unboxing the package, peeling back the layers of wrapping with an almost childlike excitement.

Jungkook watches, momentarily distracted—not by the package, but by you.

The way your eyes light up, the way your fingers move with care as if unwrapping something precious. The packaging is extravagant, unnecessarily grand for something as simple as lip stains, but when he sees the way it makes you smile, he figures maybe that's the point.

Maybe it's meant to make people feel like this. And if that's the case, then he hopes every product you ever receive comes wrapped in the prettiest boxes, because the look on your face right now?

Yeah, he'd like to see that again.

"Wow..." you breathe out, eyes wide with amusement as you take in the sight before you—eight lip stains neatly nestled inside the box. You weren't expecting this, especially not so soon.

The brand had sent you PR before, after that one tiktok you made for them, but this? The limited-edition collection, delivered straight to your doorstep? It was definitely a pleasant surprise.

"Look at all these shades." you gasp, voice laced with excitement as you carefully pluck out the first one. The colors range from soft pinks to deep berry tones, each more tempting than the last. You turn to Jungkook, eyes gleaming. "Wanna try this one?"

Jungkook raises a brow but doesn't protest because again, when has he ever said no to you?

"These are peel-off lip stains." you explain, twisting the cap and the scent—sweet, vaguely fruity—drifts up immediately. "Peel-off?" Jungkook repeats, skepticism creeping into his tone.

You nod enthusiastically. "Yeah, you apply it, wait a few minutes, and once it dries, you just peel it off. It leaves behind a stain."

He furrows his brows, still struggling to wrap his head around the whole concept, but he nods anyway. Because, really, if there's one thing Jungkook has learned, it's that when it comes to you and your beauty experiments, it's better to just simply go along with it.

"Come here." you say, nudging the box aside to make space as you inch closer. Jungkook straightens his back, his hands resting idly on his lap as he waits, patient and compliant, like always.

With one hand, you gently cup his chin, steadying his face. Your fingers are warm against his skin, and Jungkook swallows, trying to ignore the way his pulse betrays him. Slowly, with careful precision, you begin tracing the outline of his lips.

And that's when it hits him. The proximity.

It's not unfamiliar—this has happened before. Every time you apply something to his face, you get so, so close that he can almost feel your breath ghosting against his skin. But somehow, it never stops setting off a chain reaction inside him.

His breath catches the moment the wand glides over his lips, and he notices—of course, he notices—the way your eyes remain so intently focused on his mouth.

God, this is not good for his heart. His poor, overworked, utterly helpless heart.

Before his thoughts spiral any further, before he lets himself feel too much, he does what he always does—he closes his eyes. Shuts out the sight of you, the nearness of you, the way his chest tightens at the thought of you. Because he is not god's strongest soldier.

Once you finish filling in his lips with the product, you sit back, tilting your head as you admire your work. That's when Jungkook finally opens his eyes.

The color of the peel is darker than the actual stain—almost unnaturally so—and it makes him look... well, a little funny. You try to hold it in, but a giggle slips past your lips before you can stop it.

"What?" Jungkook asks, brows furrowing in confusion but the moment he speaks, something feels off. His lips feel stiff, like they've been coated in wax, and the weird sensation makes his frown deepen.

"Don't talk." you say quickly, waving a hand in warning. "You have to let it dry first."

His expression remains skeptical, but he still obeys. Your attention, however, has already drifted back to the box. While Jungkook patiently waits for his peel-off stain to dry, you figure it's time to test out another shade yourself.

"Which one should I try?" you hum, tapping your chin in thought. Then, pushing the box towards him, you grin. "You choose for me."

Jungkook takes a moment, scanning the neatly arranged tubes. His eyes land on a deep crimson shade—rich, elegant, the kind of color he just knows will look good on you. Without a word (because someone told him not to talk), he simply points at it.

You smile, clearly pleased with his choice, and take the tube in hand. Reaching for the little mirror on your desk, you carefully begin applying the stain to your lips, oblivious to the way Jungkook watches you, his own lips still tingling, his heart still hopelessly traitorous.

God.

The way you apply that stain to your lips—so slow, so precise, like it's a ritual rather than just makeup. The way your gaze lingers on your reflection, eyes flicking over every detail as you smooth the product across your lips with effortless grace.

Jungkook swears he's never seen anyone look so mesmerizing while doing something so utterly mundane.

It's ridiculous, really, how something as simple as this—just you, applying lip stain—has him completely entranced. His pulse trips over itself, his stomach does this weird, weightless thing, and suddenly, he's wondering if it's normal to be this enchanted with someone.

And then, just as quickly as you began, you're done. You twist the cap back on, set the mirror down, and turn to him with a soft, satisfied smile. You begin fanning your lips and gesture Jungkook to follow. He blinks, forcing himself to shake off whatever daze he's in before wordlessly copying you.

So now, the two of you just sit there, cross-legged on your bed, silently fanning your lips with comically serious expressions. If anyone were to walk in right now, they'd probably think you were performing some bizarre ritual.

Jungkook should find this ridiculous. Maybe even funny.

But all he can focus on is the soft curve of your lips, the way your lashes dip with each slow blink, and the effortless way you exist—completely unaware of just how much space you take up in his head.

After what feels like forever, Jungkook notices you reaching for the mirror again. His gaze follows the movement of your fingers as you carefully press against the edge of the lip stain and begin peeling it away. His brows knit together slightly because, for a second, it almost looks like you're peeling off a layer of your skin.

But then, as the translucent film lifts, the color left behind on your lips begins to show, seamlessly tinted like a watercolor painting. And suddenly, the whole concept makes sense to him.

You peel away the last bit and turn to him with a smile. "Looks nice?"

Jungkook nods, eyes still fixed on your lips, like he's studying every shift of color, every little detail. "Come here, let me do yours too," you say, gesturing him closer.

Without a second thought, he inches forward, bringing his face to your eye level, and for the second time tonight, he finds himself painfully aware of your proximity.

Your fingers gently take hold of the dried stain on his lips, peeling it away while Jungkook sits perfectly still, his breath hitching just slightly at the sensation, his gaze locked onto your face.

And then, just as the final layer comes off, you let out a delighted gasp. "Oh my god !!" you beam, tilting your head to admire the color. "This shade looks so good on you."

Jungkook blinks, lips slightly parted. He doesn't know what's worse, the fact that you're still so close, or the fact that you're looking at him like that, like he's something pretty.

You lean back slightly, pulling the box closer, skimming the fine print with a look of mild amusement. "Hmmm... it says here that these are kiss-proof." you giggle, tapping the side of the box. Then, with zero hesitation and far too much nonchalance, you glance at Jungkook. "Should we test that out?"

And that's it. That's how Jungkook dies.

You want to test it out?

With him?

Test it out... how exactly?

His brain stutters. His body forgets how to function. His soul quite literally leaves his body and ascends to the heavens for a moment before violently crashing back down into the reality of what you just said.

There are several things happening inside Jungkook right now, and none of them are good for his well-being. His heart is in the middle of a full cardiac arrest, his stomach is doing something between a backflip and a complete nosedive, and his entire nervous system has gone into DEFCON 1.

The mere thought of your lips on his—of actually getting to kiss you, even under the guise of some ridiculous experiment—is enough to send him spiraling. His pulse is thunderous. His breath? Completely nonexistent.

"You... you want to test it out?" he croaks, like he needs to double-check before his imagination starts running off the rails. You nod, completely casual, as if you didn't just send his entire life into turmoil. "Yeah, why not?" you shrug.

Why not ??

WHY NOT ?!

Oh, Jungkook can think of a million reasons why not. Maybe because he has spent months suppressing every urge, every look, every stray thought about how insanely, stupidly in love with you he is?

Maybe because the idea of your lips even remotely close to his, is enough to send him into a self-destructive spiral? Maybe because if this actually happens, if he actually gets a taste of something he has wanted for so long, there's no way in hell he'll ever be able to come back from it?

"Oh... O-okay." he stammers, because—obviously. What else is he supposed to say?

No? No?! That's not even a possibility.

He braces himself. Inhales sharply. Inches just the tiniest bit closer, his eyes fluttering shut, waiting, anticipating, standing on the precipice of something life-altering.

This is it. This is the moment his world shifts on its axis. The moment he has his first ever kiss kiss with none other than... you, the girl he's been hopelessly, irrevocably in love with for months.

And then—

A loud, exaggerated smooch sound fills the air.

But he feels... nothing.

No soft pressure against his lips, no warmth against his skin and that's when he slowly opens his eyes, only to find you inspecting the back of your hand.

"Wow, these really are kiss-proof." you muse, turning your hand under the light, admiring the complete lack of transfer.

Oh.

So that's what you meant.

Jungkook just sits there, utterly motionless, trying to reboot his entire existence. Of course that's what you meant—testing it on the back of your hand, like a normal person. Like a sane person.

Meanwhile, he? He was two seconds away from experiencing cardiac arrest over the sheer possibility of kissing you.

"You should do it too." you say, finally looking up at him, still completely unaware of the absolute catastrophe you've just triggered inside him.

Oh, should he? Should he go ahead and casually press his lips to his hand like this is some simple, scientific experiment—like he didn't just mentally prepare himself to kiss you, like he didn't just have a full-blown crisis over it?

Jungkook swallows hard, blinking at you in disbelief. He has two choices here—either expose himself completely and let you see exactly how down bad he is, or just go along with it, pretend he wasn't internally combusting moments ago.

So, with what little dignity he has left, he clears his throat, nods stiffly, and hesitantly lifts his hand to his lips. The second they touch, he glares at his palm like it personally offended him.

Yeah. Great. Exactly what he wanted to be kissing right now.

Eventually, Jungkook loses track of time. He doesn't know how long he's been sitting in your room, letting you test shade after shade on him, obediently parting his lips whenever you tilt his chin, watching as you do the same on yourself with that same meticulous focus that drives him absolutely insane.

By the time you're finally done testing them all, you lean back and let out a satisfied sigh. "Oh my god, I actually love this product." you gush, eyes twinkling. Then, you turn to him. Jungkook blinks, still caught in the haze of his own thoughts, and god, the poor boy looks exhausted.

"Oh my god," you gasp, brows furrowing. "Did I wear you out?" you ask and Jungkook stares at you. No, he's not worn out. He's still internally screaming over how catastrophically, idiotically stupid he is.

How could he have just assumed you wanted to kiss him? How did his brain take "Should we test that out?" and spin it into some earth-shattering, life-changing confession? How did he let himself believe, for even a second, that you—his roommate, his favorite person, the love of his goddamn life—were about to kiss him?

He wants to dig a hole and disappear. He wants to time travel back to that very moment and slap himself. He wants to not be this delusional.

"Oh... no, no." Jungkook says quickly, maybe too quickly, shaking his head in a way that's anything but natural. He hopes you don't hear the sheer devastation clinging to his words, the lingering disappointment he's trying so hard to swallow. "I was just... genuinely shocked at how well-made these products are." he lies, forcing what he hopes is a casual nod.

You beam at him, still completely oblivious. "That's true." you giggle, and just then, the doorbell rings. "Oh! That must be Jae!" you perk up instantly, getting off the bed without hesitation.

Ah. Right.

Jaehyun.

Jungkook had almost managed to forget about him for the briefest moment.

But of course, Jaehyun is still very much here. Still the same looming, overbearing presence in Jungkook's life—the human equivalent of an immovable roadblock, an unavoidable stop sign placed directly in his path.

It's almost like Jungkook can't escape Jaehyun.

No matter where he turns, no matter what time of the day it is, Jaehyun is somehow there, effortlessly inserting himself into your life in ways that makes Jungkook's skin itch.

Sometimes, he spots the two of you outside the econ building, standing too close, laughing at something he'll never be in on. Other times, he sees you sitting together along with Jimin in the cafeteria, Jaehyun casually taking up the seat beside you like he has every right to be there, like he's always been there.

But the absolute worst part? Seeing him here. In your shared apartment. In the living room. On the couch. In the kitchen. In your room. Jungkook hates how easily Jaehyun exists in it... like he belongs, like he fits. And of course, he's still your infuriatingly unavoidable, ever-present, stupid fucking assignment partner so Jungkook can't really say anything.

Jungkook hates it. Hates how it feels like Jaehyun never has to fight for a place in your world—how he just gets to be there. How, no matter how much Jungkook wants to, he can't just wish him away.

It's sickening. Truly.

And now, Jungkook has to sit here, lips still faintly stained from your little PR experiment, and watch as you rush to greet the very person who—whether you realize it or not—has become the greatest thorn in his side.

As Jungkook steps out of your room, he instantly spots Jaehyun stroll in behind you with that same effortless arrogance, the kind that makes it seem like he belongs wherever he goes, even when he doesn't.

Jaehyun's gaze barely lingers on Jungkook before a slow, amused smirk tugs at his lips, his eyes honing in on the faint stain of color still lingering on Jungkook's mouth.

"Yo, dude, are you wearing makeup?" He snorts, his tone laced with something condescending, something that instantly grates on Jungkook's nerves.

It's not the question that bothers him—it's how Jaehyun asks it, like it's some kind of joke, like he's pointing out something ridiculous for the sake of mocking it. Like he expects Jungkook to laugh along, to act embarrassed, to give him something.

But Jungkook isn't ashamed. Not in the slightest.

"We just tested out some lip stains." you reply casually, completely oblivious to the sudden change in the air between the two boys.

Jaehyun lets out another scoff of a laugh, shaking his head like he just can't believe what he's seeing. "Man, that's kinda wild." he mutters under his breath, but it's loud enough for Jungkook to hear, loud enough for it to hit exactly where Jaehyun wants it to and Jungkook's fingers curl into fists at his sides.

"Yeah?" His voice is low, dangerously calm. "What's wild about it?"

Jaehyun shrugs, all nonchalance and feigned innocence. "Nothing, man. Just not something you see every day." he says but the smirk still stays plastered.

Jungkook knows exactly what Jaehyun's doing.

He's seen it enough times, studied him enough to understand that he's the kind of guy who speaks in veiled jabs, just ambiguous enough that if you call him out, you're the one who looks like you're overreacting. The kind who masks condescension with an easy laugh, who pokes and prods just enough to worm his way under your skin but never enough to be held accountable for it.

Jaehyun gives him one last once-over before turning his attention to you like Jungkook isn't even there anymore, like he isn't worth another second of his time. And just like that, Jungkook has never wanted to punch someone more in his life.

"Kook, can you focus?" Taehyung grumbles, clearly unimpressed by how Jungkook keeps zoning out in the middle of their match. "Sorry." Jungkook mutters, forcing himself to snap back to the game.

His grip on the controller tightens, fingers moving instinctively as his character lunges forward in the video game, but the distraction lingers. His reaction time is slower than usual, and Taehyung instantly notices.

A few more minutes pass, and Jungkook spaces out again, his mind wandering somewhere far from the game, far from Taehyung's apartment, far from anything he actually wants to be thinking about and Taehyung finally snaps.

"Okay, what the hell is your problem?" He groans, chucking his controller onto the couch before turning to face Jungkook with narrowed eyes.

Jungkook exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. He's been here for almost an hour now, sprawled across Taehyung's couch after a long day at uni, because Taehyung had insisted they play Elden Ring together.

And normally, Jungkook would be invested, completely locked in, competitive, trash-talking Taehyung for every little mistake. But today, he just... isn't. Because, truthfully?

All he can think about these days is Jaehyun. And he hates it.

Hates how the guy lingers in his head like some ghost that refuses to leave, clinging to his thoughts in a way that feels unnatural. Hates how his presence is so deeply embedded in your life, hates the way you smile when you're with him, the easy way you laugh at his stupid jokes.

And most of all, he hates how Jaehyun always manages to worm his way under his skin, like a splinter buried too deep to pull out. It's the way he does it, too—so effortlessly, so casually, with those sharp-edged smirks and barely-there scoffs.

The snide remarks disguised as harmless teasing, the subtle but deliberate pauses before his dismissive looks, the offhanded, too-innocent comments that always feel like they carry an edge meant just for Jungkook to catch. It's calculated. It's infuriating. And worst of all? It's working.

But it's not like Jungkook can say that out loud without making himself look childish.

"It's nothing." he says instead, voice quieter than before, looking away. "Come on, Kook." Taehyung's voice softens, and Jungkook barely has time to react before Taehyung tugs the controller right out of his hands and sets it aside. "Talk to me. You've been like this for days. You don't say anything, but I know something's been bothering you."

Jungkook swallows, jaw tensing. "Come on." Taehyung presses, inching closer, his sharp gaze scanning Jungkook's face. "It's about Y/n, isn't it?"

Jungkook exhales through his nose, long and slow, because at this point, what's the use in denying it? Taehyung's like a bloodhound when it comes to this stuff and there's literally no escaping him.

"Okay, fine." he mutters, sitting up straighter. "But promise me you won't judge me." he adds and Taehyung blinks at him, looking downright offended. "Dude. When have I ever judged you? The fuck?"

Jungkook sighs because—yeah, fair. But still, admitting this out loud makes him feel ridiculous. Like he's a teenager with a stupid crush, and not a grown adult who should be handling his emotions better.

"Okay, listen." he starts "Y/n's been working on this assignment with some guy for the past few weeks, right? I think it's been, like, three weeks now?"

Taehyung nods, waiting for him to continue.

"And this guy..." Jungkook exhales sharply, fingers tightening into fists. "Something about him just feels off, you know? Like, I'm not saying I'm jealous, but the way he acts around Y/n, the way he acts in our apartment... it's just weird. He's way too comfortable."

Taehyung raises a brow at that. "Comfortable? In what way?"

"For starters, the way he talks to her." Jungkook leans back against the couch, shaking his head. "They're always laughing, cracking jokes, and sometimes... I don't even think Y/n notices it, but he just looks at her weirdly, you know?"

The moment the words leave his mouth, he instantly regrets it, because that's when Taehyung's knowing smirk appears. "Ohhh...." Taehyung drawls, grinning like the menace he is. "From the way you're talking, you are most definitely jealous, Kook."

"Tae. That's not the point here." Jungkook says firmly, fixing him with an unimpressed glare. "Okay, okay, sorry." Taehyung lifts his hands in surrender, still smiling. "I mean, maybe they're just friends? They share the same major, they're in the same class... maybe that's why they seem so close? Maybe that's why he's so comfortable around her?" Taehyung tries, tilting his head in thought.

Jungkook's lips press into a tight line. "Yeah, well..." His voice trails off. "That could be it." There's a brief pause before he's talking again. "But still... something about that guy just feels so... eerie." he mutters, his brows knitting together. "Especially the way he looks at me."

Taehyung's expression falters slightly. "Looks at you?" he asks. "Yeah. Like I'm beneath him. Like he somehow knows what I feel for Y/n. Like he knows seeing him with her bothers me." Jungkook clenches his jaw, frustration simmering beneath his skin. "It's like he's taunting me without saying a word."

Taehyung tilts his head, considering. "Well... don't you think you might be reading into it too much?" His voice is softer now, genuinely questioning.

Jungkook lets out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. "Yeah, well, that's what I thought at first too. But it's happened so many times now that I can't just brush it off." He exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face. "Jaehyun just knows how to get—"

"Wait. Wait." Taehyung suddenly cuts in, eyes going wide. "Did you just say Jaehyun?" he asks and Jungkook blinks. "Uh... yeah?"

"Bro." Taehyung groans as he stares at Jungkook like he just dropped the biggest plot twist of the century. "Why didn't you fucking start with that?"

Jungkook blinks, completely lost. "Start with what?" he asks. Taehyung looks like he wants to throttle him. "That the assignment partner you're talking about, the guy who's been getting on your nerves, the one who's been way too comfortable around Y/n— is Jaehyun. Jaehyun from econ." He repeats, as if saying it again will somehow make more sense.

Jungkook furrows his brows, still utterly bewildered. "Uh... yeah? That's him? Do you know him?" he questions and Taehyung throws his hands up, exasperated. "Dude, of course I know him. He's on the soccer team." His voice is flat, like this should have been obvious.

"Wait. What?" Jungkook's eyes widen. Now that is brand-new information.

"You'd know this if you actually came to my games and paid attention to my team instead of coding." Taehyung deadpans. "But anyways, that's besides the point." He quickly waves it off, redirecting the conversation back to the actual issue at hand. "Kook, that guy... he's bad news."

Jungkook swallows hard, his fingers curling slightly. Because fuck, a part of him already knew. He had felt it from the start but hearing Taehyung say it out loud? That solid confirmation makes his stomach twist.

"Bad news?" He forces his voice to stay even, though his pulse kicks up. "Like... how bad?"

Taehyung sighs, raking a hand through his hair. "Long story short? He's a huge fuckboy."

Of course. Of course Jaehyun was a fuckboy.

Jungkook should have seen that coming. Should have realized sooner. But before he can say anything, Taehyung keeps going.

"Not publicly, though. Not in a way that makes it obvious, I guess. He's careful about his reputation around campus, I think... but god, I've heard him talk in the locker room... so many times, with the guys. He goes to these high-end clubs, finds random girls from other universities... and sleeps around with them."

Jungkook exhales slowly, trying to keep his composure, but there's a bitter weight settling in his chest, pressing down like a warning he doesn't want to hear but needs to.

"And what's truly disgusting is..." Taehyung pauses, like he's searching for the right words—or maybe trying to stop himself from getting sick just thinking about it. "It's how he talks about it in the locker room. He gives these guys every explicit detail of what he did, like it's some kind of conquest. The way he talks about women—like they're nothing but objects—it's fucking sickening."

Jungkook clenches his jaw, his fingers curling into fists.

"I told him to cut it out once." Taehyung continues, his voice tight with disdain. "But he just brushed me off, laughed it off like I was being sensitive. Since then, I can't really stand the guy. We're nothing but teammates now. And honestly? I avoid him as much as I can." He lets out a scoff before adding, "Even the coach caught him once, warned him to keep that shit out of the locker room. It was getting that bad."

Jungkook looks up sharply. "And did he stop?"

"Of course not. He just got more discreet about it. Makes sure no one important is around, but I still hear him whispering sometimes, running his mouth like he always does." Taehyung replies, shaking his head.

Jungkook feels something dark stir in his chest, an unsettling mix of anger and unease.

"But so far..." Taehyung adds, hesitating for a beat. "I'm not really sure if he's brought up Y/n or spoken about her. But now that I'm hearing all of this from you... I can't help but wonder—what if she's his next target?"

Jungkook stiffens.

"You know Y/n..." Taehyung sighs. "She's popular. A lot of guys have tried to get her attention and maybe Jaehyun sees this whole 'assignment partner' thing as his way in. Like a slow game. Build some trust and then eventually, you know..." His voice trails off, but the implication is crystal clear.

And Jungkook does know.

"I have to go." he suddenly says, rising from the couch with urgency and Taehyung instantly nods in understanding. "I need to talk to Y/n before it's too late." he adds, hurriedly grabbing his jacket and bag.

Without wasting another second, he's out the door.

You're almost halfway through your research paper assignment with Jaehyun. The past few weeks have been a whirlwind of data collection and analysis, a blur of brainstorming sessions, frantic note-taking, and the constant hum of keyboards clacking.

You've worked everywhere... in your apartment, in the campus library and you've also convinced him to work with you during some free periods because you really just want to get over with this paper.

And right now, you're seated on the floor in the middle of your living room, surrounded by papers, pens, post-its and your laptop as you work on the assignment.

"Ughhh, I'm so sick of this." Jaehyun groans dramatically, dropping his head onto the coffee table with a light thud. "You say that every week." you remark, not even bothering to look up from your screen as you highlight another key point.

"Yeah, well, every week, I mean it more." he huffs making you chuckle as you pat his back absentmindedly. "Just a few more weeks, and we'll be submitting this nightmare. We got this." you smile.

Jaehyun lifts his head, eyes filled with suffering. "I hate uni so much. Not only do we have this paper sucking the life out of us, but don't forget—we have that pop quiz next week too."

"Oh yeah." you nod, unbothered and still focused on your screen. "Should be fine. I'm already prepared for it."

Jaehyun narrows his eyes. "Of course you are. Ms. 'I go viral on tiktok and get straight A's' ...You stress me out." he comments, shaking his head. "That sounds like a you problem." You shrug with a smirk, finally looking at him.

"Okay, first of all—rude." he scoffs. "Second, how do you even have time to do all this? Like, I swear, you're out here thriving while I'm over here running on two brain cells, a prayer, and an iced coffee." he rambles.

"Skill issue." you shrug, turning back to look at your computer. "Wow. Gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss much?" he says, shaking his head. "You know it." You grin, clicking away at your laptop.

A few seconds pass before you exhale softly, rolling your shoulders to ease the stiffness settling in. "Hey, I'm gonna use the restroom real quick." you inform Jaehyun, stretching slightly as you rise to your feet and Jaehyun gives you a nod.

The second you disappear, the living room falls into an eerie silence but not even a full minute passes before the front door suddenly unlocks with a sharp click. The door swings open, and Jungkook storms in, slightly breathless, his eyes scanning the apartment with urgency.

"Y/n?" he calls out, his voice edged with something Jaehyun can't quite place. His breath is uneven, his shoulders rising and falling as if he ran the entire way here.

Jaehyun watches, unimpressed, as Jungkook's gaze finally lands on him—alone in the living room. "What are you doing here?" Jungkook blurts out, his tone laced with irritation, like he wasn't expecting to see Jaehyun here, at this time.

Jaehyun smirks, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the coffee table, exuding pure, effortless arrogance. "What do you think?" he counters smoothly. The question is rhetorical, and Jungkook knows it, but it still grates on his nerves.

Jaehyun's cocky demeanor sets Jungkook's teeth on edge, but he doesn't let himself react—not yet. Instead, he steps further inside, eyes narrowing. "Where's Y/n?" His voice is sharp, cutting straight to the point, though he's still catching his breath.

Jaehyun's smirk widens, like he's amused by the urgency in Jungkook's tone. "Relax, coder boy." he drawls lazily, tilting his head. "What's got you so worked up that you had to come running all the way here?"

Jungkook clenches his jaw, already irritated beyond belief. "It's none of your business." he says flatly. For a brief moment, something flickers in Jaehyun's eyes, something almost akin to surprise at Jungkook's tone, but it disappears just as quickly, replaced by another insufferable smirk.

"Damn." he chuckles, his tone dripping with mockery. "Someone's got their panties in a twist today."

That does it and something inside Jungkook snaps.

He moves in closer, his entire body radiating tension. "Look, Jaehyun, I don't have time for your stupid fucking games." he grits out. "I know what you're up to, so cut the cocky bullshit and stop acting like you're above me when in reality, you're nothing but a pathetic fuckboy."

Jaehyun scoffs, his smirk faltering just slightly. "Excuse me?"

Jungkook rolls his eyes. "I've always had a bad feeling about you from the start." he mutters, voice rough with frustration. "And today, it's confirmed. You're just another sleazebag who gets off on playing around with girls, and you probably think Y/n is your next target." His words are cutting, precise, but he's not done yet.

Jaehyun simply raises an eyebrow, his elbows still resting on the coffee table casually as if Jungkook's words don't faze him.

"You think you can weasel your way into her life under the guise of this assignment, play the part of the helpful, charming friend, gain her trust... and then what? Wait until she lets her guard down and try to get her to sleep with you?" His expression darkens, eyes narrowing with nothing but pure, undiluted disgust. "All while trying to step over me like I'm nothing?"

Jungkook's chest rises and falls steadily, his anger simmering just beneath the surface, barely contained. "Well, that's not happening." he states, still staring down at Jaehyun.

"Because I'm telling Y/n everything—who you really are, what you're trying to do. I'm going to make sure she knows exactly what kind of a pathetic excuse for a man you are before you get the chance to screw her over like you've probably done to every other girl."

For a moment, Jungkook is almost shocked by how easily the words flow out of him, but maybe that's because of the sheer anger surging through his system. Or maybe it's because of something deeper— his need to protect you. Either way, standing here, staring Jaehyun down, Jungkook feels no hesitation. No doubt.

"Are you done?" Jaehyun finally sighs, his tone almost bored. Jungkook furrows his brows, irritation flaring at how utterly unaffected Jaehyun looks right now.

"I mean, that was quite the speech." Jaehyung muses, nodding his head. "Didn't know you had it in you, coder boy." His smirk widens. "Seriously, I'm impressed. I didn't know you could string together sentences like that, let alone talk for a full three minutes straight while actually making eye contact." He chuckles, his voice dripping with condescension. "That must've taken everything out of you, huh?"

Jungkook inhales sharply, his fists twitching at his sides, ready to fire back, but Jaehyun doesn't give him the chance.

"Go ahead." Jaehyun spreads his arms out as he leans back against the foot of the couch behind him, as if inviting the challenge. "Run along and tell Y/n whatever you want." His tone remains even. "Tell her I'm some lying, manipulative fuckboy—see how that goes for you." His smirk lingers as he leans forward again, voice dropping just slightly. "You think she'll believe you?"

Jungkook stiffens at that and Jaehyun doesn't miss it.

"You got any proof?" he continues smoothly like he knows he has the upper hand here. "Because without it, you're just some desperate guy throwing baseless accusations."

Jungkook grits his teeth, his pulse pounding so hard in his ears that he barely hears the low chuckle Jaehyun lets out next.

"Y/n's known me for, what? A couple of weeks now?" Jaehyun continues. "And I've been nothing but a sweet, funny, cooperative assignment partner." He shrugs.

"So what do you think is more likely? That she'll believe me, the guy who's actually been good to her, or you, the guy seething in the corner, throwing accusations like a jealous little kid?"

Jungkook stands frozen, his blood simmering. Because as much as he wants to fight it, as much as he hates to admit it, Jaehyun's words are getting to him.

Because how is he actually going to convince you?

How is he supposed to make you see the truth, that Jaehyun isn't who you think he is? That beneath all the easy smiles and effortless charm, he's just another predator looking for his next game? How is he supposed to prove it when he has nothing to back up his accusations?

Sure, he heard everything from Taehyung—but that's all there is to it. And if Jaehyun hasn't done anything wrong, if he hasn't pulled anything shady, hasn't let his mask slip even once in front of you, then what reason do you have to believe Jungkook? Why would you take his word over Jaehyun's?

"You know..." Jaehyun hums, dragging Jungkook from his spiraling thoughts. "If I were you, I'd be a little more worried about myself right now." He pauses for a beat, letting the weight of his next words settle in before he drops them like a grenade.

"Imagine if Y/n found out about your feelings for her."

Jungkook's entire body goes still. His stomach twists violently, his breath stalling in his throat. He blinks, trying to process, trying to breathe, but it's like Jaehyun's words wrap around his lungs and squeeze, choking the air from his system.

He feels stripped bare, exposed in a way he never has before, like Jaehyun just ripped open a wound he didn't even know was visible. "How did you—"

Jaehyun lets out a laugh, shaking his head. "Oh, come on, it's so fucking obvious." he drawls, his smirk widening as he watches Jungkook with a smug expression like he can see the panic seeping into his bones.

"Think Y/n will be pleased to know that the guy she's been living with is, what, obsessed with her?" His voice is teasing, but his words slice like a blade. "That he's been pining after her this whole time?" He clicks his tongue, shaking his head. "Man, that's gotta be mad awkward for her."

Jungkook feels his stomach drop.

No. No, you can't know.

You can't. Because if you did, if you ever realized the truth about the way he feels, it would ruin everything.

He's spent months burying it, shoving it down so deep it's almost suffocating—because he knows. And even though it's painful to admit, even though it eats away at him in the quiet moments when you're close but never close enough, he knows exactly where he stands in your life.

Just a roommate. Just a friend. Nothing more.

Living with you has been one of the best things that has ever happened to him, and he's never wanted to risk that. Not when you trust him so effortlessly. Not when you're so comfortable around him.

He needs you to keep looking at him the way you always have—not with wariness, not with hesitation, not with the painful realization that the person you've trusted all this time has been hiding something from you.

Because what if you pull away?

What if you start second-guessing every touch, every glance, every effortless moment that once felt so natural? What if you hesitate before leaning into him like you always do?

What if you stop walking into his room like it's your own, like you don't need permission, like you belong there just as much as he does?

What if you stop asking him for the little things—the things he's always loved doing for you? Testing out your makeup, dragging him into your random tiktoks, even though he's hopelessly awkward with them, handing him your phone and making him take a hundred pictures until you finally find the one.

All those tiny, insignificant moments that have come to mean everything to him.

What if you stop looking at him like he's your friend—like he's your safe place—and start looking at him like he's something else?

Something he was never supposed to be.

What if he loses the little piece of you he's been holding onto all this time? What if his feelings jeopardize everything?

"Oh hey Kook, you're back." Your voice cuts through the storm of thoughts threatening to pull him under, snapping him back to reality. His head jerks up, eyes instantly finding you as you step out of the bathroom, drying your hands.

Jungkook's eyes sting, a sharp, unwelcome pressure settling in his chest, like a dagger wedged right in the center of his heart. But somehow, out of sheer necessity, he forces himself to regain his composure for a fleeting moment.

He watches as you move so effortlessly, so unaware, casually making your way to the coffee table before settling beside Jaehyun, as if nothing has changed. As if the ground beneath him hasn't just shifted.

"Yeah... I... I'm back." His voice comes out steadier than he expects, but the hesitation lingers. His gaze flickers towards Jaehyun, who's now focused on his laptop, acting completely indifferent. But that smirk—that stupid smirk—still lingers on his lips, like he's utterly pleased with the way everything played out before you arrived.

Like he's already won.

When he notices you return to your work, the rhythmic clicking of your keyboard filling the air, he takes it as his cue to retreat to his room.

Closing the door behind him, Jungkook throws his bag onto the bed and lets out the loudest sigh, squeezing his eyes shut as he presses his fingers against his temples.

God, he feels like he's stranded in the middle of nowhere.

That conversation with Jaehyun has left him shaken and probably extremely disoriented. Because now, he's trapped—caught between two unbearable choices.

On one hand, he has to warn you. He can't just sit back and watch as Jaehyun plays whatever twisted game he's playing. But on the other hand, he can't risk you finding out about his feelings because he would rather die than jeopardize everything between the two of you.

But even though his own emotions feel insignificant compared to your safety, compared to protecting you from someone like Jaehyun, the fear still gnaws at him.

You live with him, for fuck's sake.

The last thing he wants is for you to feel pressured around him, for you to start walking on eggshells around him.

He exhales deeply, slipping off his glasses before collapsing onto the mattress, an arm draped over his eyes. For a few moments, he stays like that, willing himself to silence the thoughts swirling in his mind.

Then—faint but distinct—the sound of the front door closing cuts through the quiet. His eyes snap open. Did Jaehyun leave?

Pushing himself off the bed, he moves towards the door, stepping out into the living room. His gaze lands on you almost instantly as he watches you clear up the coffee table, gathering your books and laptop.

"Did Jaehyun leave?" he asks softly grabbing your attention as you glance up, adjusting your things in your arms before offering a soft smile. "Oh, yeah. He just left."

Jungkook swallows, standing still for a beat too long.

Maybe he shouldn't let Jaehyun's words get to him. Maybe he's overthinking it because shouldn't he at least try? Shouldn't he say something? If nothing else, shouldn't he talk to you about it, regardless of his feelings for you?

You'd understand that, wouldn't you? You'd see it for what it is—just concern, just a friend looking out for you.

Right?

"Hey, Y/n..." Jungkook starts, taking a hesitant step closer. You hum in acknowledgment, making your way towards your room to put your things away. He follows quietly, maintaining a careful distance, his pulse drumming in his ears.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, what's up?" you ask, placing your things on your desk before turning around to see him standing by your door, his posture tense and his expression troubled. "What's wrong?" you ask, your voice instinctively softening.

Jungkook exhales sharply, his eyes darting everywhere across the room except your face. "Um..." His hands curl into loose fists at his sides, like he's bracing himself. He's trying so hard to formulate whatever he wants to say, in a way that won't sound completely weird.

"Do you... do you trust Jaehyun?" he finally asks, his voice careful, but he can already see the confusion flicker across your face, the way you tilt your head slightly, the way your lips part as if you're waiting for him to clarify—because surely, you must have misheard him. "Do I trust Jaehyun?" you repeat, blinking.

Jungkook closes his eyes, the voices in his head getting louder and louder, and suddenly, the words are tumbling out if his mouth before he can stop them. "Yeah, like... um... you know, Jaehyun's a guy and... and like I said before, he's just so comfortable around you, and... I was just wondering—"

"Where is this coming from?" you interject, your eyes narrowing slightly. "It's just..." He inhales sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm worried about you because Jaehyun... he seems weird and I... I don't really trust him."

Fuck.

Why does he sound so wrong right now? He's trying his best to be rational, to not sound invasive, to not make it seem like he's overstepping. But every word that leaves his mouth feels off, like he's fumbling through a minefield, one misstep away from ruining everything.

Your lips part slightly, and you blink at him, utterly bewildered. "Kook, I'm not sure what you're trying to imply, but Jae's just a classmate and my assignment partner. That's it." Your voice remains patient, steady, but the confusion is unmistakable.

"And I get that you're worried... probably because, um, he's a guy, I guess?" You exhale softly, shaking your head, but there's no bite to your words. "But trust me, Kook. I know how to take care of myself." You're not defensive. You're not brushing him off. You're genuinely hoping your words reach him, that they ease whatever is twisting inside him.

Standing here, looking at him, the only conclusion you can draw is that Jungkook thinks Jaehyun has some weird intentions with you. And that's valid, you suppose—guys can be creepy, and you know Jungkook is just looking out for you.

But after spending so much time with Jaehyun, you've never once felt uncomfortable around him. Never noticed anything strange. So right now, this conversation barely makes any sense to you.

But then, something suddenly clicks.

You remember that conversation with Jungkook a few nights ago, when you were walking back from the diner, how he had casually, but pointedly, inquired about Jaehyun and made a comment about him getting a little too comfortable around the apartment.

So maybe... that's what's bothering him. Maybe Jaehyun's constant presence is just irritating him.

"Look..." you start again, offering a small, understanding smile. "if this is about him hanging around the apartment too much, I promise, I can always—"

"It's not about that." Jungkook cuts in quickly, shaking his head and your brows furrow slightly. "Then what is it about?"

"I just..." He exhales harshly, jaw clenching. "Y/n, I don't trust Jaehyun." he says again, but this time there's more certainty but Jungkook can tell you're still not catching what he's trying so hard to tell you.

You on the other hand, let out a quiet sigh because you get why he's saying this—you really do. But at the same time, you need him to understand that there's nothing to worry about.

"Kook..." you start gently. "I don't know why you feel that way, but I promise you, Jaehyun hasn't done anything weird."

Jungkook's stomach twists.

"I know guys can be creepy sometimes..." you continue, offering him a small, reassuring smile, "But Jaehyun isn't like that. We're really good friends, and I trust him."

You trust Jaehyun.

Jungkook barely breathes.

This—this is exactly what he was afraid of.

Because from where he's standing, it looks like Jaehyun has already sunk his claws into you, already manipulated you into thinking he's someone he clearly isn't. And if Jungkook pushes any further, if he insists, if he prods too much, it's only going to make him look bad.

It's going to backfire. It's going to make him look like the jealous, possessive friend who can't stand the idea of you being close to another guy.

And he can't afford that.

"I... I know that..." he stammers, pulse hammering against his ribs. "But, Y/n, he's a guy, and—" he still tries but you cut him off again. "And what?" you ask softly.

He's a fuckboy, and he probably just wants to sleep with you.

The words sit heavy on the tip of his tongue, pressing against his teeth, desperate to spill out—but he can't.

Not when you're looking at him like that. Not when you so clearly trust Jaehyun.

Jungkook feels his palms growing clammy while his chest tightens with frustration, with something deeper, something almost suffocating. God, he wants you to understand. He needs you to understand.

But how can he make you see it when every word he wants to say will only make him sound irrational? How can he explain when you're looking at him with those soft, patient eyes, completely oblivious to the storm raging inside him?

"Kook, please." you murmur, shaking your head with a quiet laugh, like you're trying to put him at ease. Your voice is so warm, so gentle, but completely, utterly oblivious. "I really appreciate your concern, I do. But trust me on this, okay? Jae's a good guy."

You really don't see it, do you?

"I'm really thankful that you decided to reach out to me." you add, sincerity lacing every word. "But you're overthinking it, okay? So just... drop it, alright?"

You offer him another soft, patient smile. A smile that tells him you don't understand. A smile that tells him you think he's just being protective. A smile that makes his stomach churn because he sees it now... how easily Jaehyun has slipped past your defenses, how easily he's convinced you.

And Jungkook hates it.

But what can he do?

"Come on, let's have dinner." You say, effortlessly dropping the subject as you walk past him, gently patting his shoulder on the way.

But Jungkook stays where he is, frozen in place and he can't help but feel utterly defeated.

Days slip by after that conversation, and eventually, it fades from your mind.

You don't think about it much after that night—after all, Jungkook meant well. He always does. And in an effort to ease his concerns, you'd casually convinced Jaehyun to start working with you in the library instead of your apartment. It wasn't a big deal since it didn't change much for you.

Jungkook, on the other hand, notices immediately.

Jaehyun's presence in the apartment had significantly decreased, and he couldn't help but regret bringing the whole subject up. Because now, you're still meeting Jaehyun—just somewhere else. Somewhere he can't see. Somewhere he can't hear the way Jaehyun talks to you, or watch for any subtle red flags.

It's frustrating. Irrational, maybe. But Jungkook can't shake the feeling that Jaehyun is just too good at keeping up a friendly act.

But apart from that, thankfully, despite everything, things between you and Jungkook remain unchanged. You don't seem to think he was being weird or overstepping that night. You're still just as comfortable with him as ever.

Like right now, you're nestled beside him on the couch, stealing his nachos while your eyes remain fixed on the TV screen as "Attack On Titan" plays and even though you usually don't care much for anime, something about this one has intrigued you enough to sit through multiple episodes today.

Jungkook, on the other hand, is watching you more than the screen, quietly amused at how you keep shifting closer, your brows furrowed in deep concentration as you try very hard to make sense of what's happening.

He finds it endlessly endearing when you take an interest in the things he likes. Like the time you asked him to teach you Super Smash Bros. (only to suck so badly that he actually felt bad winning against you), or the time you spent an entire afternoon trying to solve a basic 3x3 rubik's cube, getting progressively more pissed off until he just scrambled it back up and pretended you were close.

Right now, your heart pounds as you grip the edge of the couch, eyes glued to the screen, watching in horror as Eren desperately struggles to save Armin from getting eaten by the Titan. "Please don't tell me one of them's about to die right now..." you whisper, half-hiding your face behind your hands, dreading the answer.

"Just keep watching." Jungkook murmurs beside you, eyes now fixed on the television as he pops a nacho inside his mouth.

Onscreen, Eren, still trapped inside the Titan's mouth, summons all his remaining strength to hurl Armin onto the rooftop—saving him from the jaws of death. Your breath catches in your throat, a flicker of hope igniting in your chest. Maybe—just maybe—Eren will find a way out too.

And then, the scene continues to unfold as Eren continues to talk and slowly reaches his arm out but—

The Titan's jaws snap shut.

"PAUSE! PAUSE!" you shriek, lunging for the remote, fingers fumbling as you mash the button in sheer panic. The screen freezes mid-frame, blood splattered in the air, the horror frozen in time. Your stomach twists as you turn to Jungkook, eyes pleading. "Jungkook, please tell me Eren is not about to die right now. PLEASEEE."

Jungkook leans back against the couch, exhaling like this is some tragic burden he's forced to carry. Of course he knows what happens next. He's a veteran at this point—he's rewatched this exact scene countless times but when his gaze meets yours, they're heavy with what you assume is sympathy.

"I'm sorry, Y/n... but Eren dies here."

Your stomach plummets. "What?"

Jungkook nods with a sad smile. "Yeah. This is one of the biggest plot twists in anime history. They made him seem like the main character, but it was all just a setup for Armin to take over."

You stare at him, mind reeling. "I—what? But—Eren... he can't just die like that!"

Jungkook sighs dramatically, dragging a hand through his hair. "I know, right? It's brutal. But the whole story was actually Armin's from the beginning. Since he always wanted to see the ocean and all, from here on out, it's about him trying to avenge Eren." he explains.

You sag against the couch, hands tangling in your hair as a groan of devastation leaves your lips. "This is insane. I can't believe Eren just dies like this."

"Yeah. It sucks." Jungkook sighs and you're too deep in mourning to notice the way the corners of his lips twitch and the way he bites his cheek to keep himself from laughing.

Then, just as your grief starts to settle in, Jungkook reaches for the remote and resumes the episode. With a deep breath, you sit up straighter, drawn back into the story despite yourself.

Eren is somehow inside the Titan's stomach, floating among the grotesque remains of those who were devoured before him. He's shaking, eyes wide with horror, talking to himself as memories flash before his eyes. For a moment, confusion flickers through you. Wait—he's still alive?

The screen goes dark for a split second.

And then—

A monstrous arm bursts through the Titan's mouth, the sheer force sending the creature staggering forward. A sickening, gurgling sound rips through the air as the Titan's entire body begins to convulse, its back bulging grotesquely before—

BOOM.

A violent explosion of steam and blood erupts, and through the thick smoke, another Titan emerges—

A Titan that looks oddly familiar.

Your jaw drops and your entire brain short-circuits.

"WAIT, HOLD ON—" You practically leap off the couch, eyes glued still to the screen. "IS THAT—OH MY GOD—IS EREN A—"

Jungkook loses it. The absolute glee in his laughter is sickening as he throws his head back, body shaking as he cackles, completely and utterly entertained by your reaction.

And you? You seethe.

"YOU LIED TO ME?!" You whip your head towards him, betrayal written all over your face. Before you even process what you're doing, your hand finds the nearest couch pillow.

SMACK.

"Y/N, wait—"

"YOU LET ME THINK EREN DIED—" SMACK-SMACK-SMACK.

"BUT HE'S A TITAN NOW?!" SMACK-SMACK.

"HOW DARE YOU—"

Jungkook is laughing so hard that he's struggling to dodge your relentless attacks. He can barely catch his breath, eyes squeezed shut as he tries (and fails) to shield himself. He just couldn't help himself, your reactions are just too priceless.

"Y/N—wait—" he chokes out between laughs, trying to scoot away from you, but your vengeance is swift and unrelenting. And then—

It happens so fast.

Jungkook shifts to dodge another one of your swings, but his foot catches on the edge of the rug below, and in one ungraceful misstep, he stumbles—hard. Before you even realize what's happening, the momentum pushes you backward, and in the next second you land against the couch with a startled gasp, the pillow slipping from your fingers, and Jungkook falls forward—

Right on top of you.

Your breath hitches, the world around you shrinking into the mere inches that separate you from Jungkook.

For a moment, neither of you move as his hands remain planted firmly on either side of your head, caging you in, while his chest hovers just above yours—close enough that you can feel the residual warmth radiating off him, but not close enough to touch.

Your eyes lock, wide and unblinking, both of you equally startled by the sudden shift in proximity.

Jungkook swallows hard, his throat bobbing, and he can almost hear the erratic pounding of his heart, the violent drumming echoing through his entire system, reverberating in his fingertips, in his spine, in the very air between you.

And you?

You gulp, pulse stammering in your system as a strange warmth curls in your chest, spreading like wildfire.

Has Jungkook always looked this good?

Because right now, with the way his dark hair falls messily over his forehead, with the way his lips are parted ever so slightly, he looks breathtaking.

And for some reason, the sight of him above you, his body framing yours, his scent wrapping around you like something dangerous, something intoxicating... has your stomach twisting into an unrecognizable knot, your chest doing peculiar things you don't quite know how to name.

You're not even thinking straight when your gaze unconsciously flickers from Jungkook's eyes to his lips.

And he notices—immediately.

For some inexplicable reason, his tongue darts out, running over his lower lip in a slow, almost instinctive motion. The simple action sends a shiver through you, and before you can stop yourself, your breath stutters out and almost in perfect synchrony, you both exhale.

Your body doesn't move—doesn't even attempt to push him off. And the strangest part? You don't want to. There's something about the way he's looking at you, hovering over you, his dark eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that makes your pulse stammer.

Jungkook, on the other hand, feels utterly lost. What the hell is this? Why can't he move? If he had any shred of sanity left, he should be pushing himself up, putting space between you, pretending like this never happened. But he doesn't. He can't.

And why... why are you looking at him like that?

Suddenly—

The sharp, shrill chime of the doorbell slices through the air like a knife, shattering the spell in an instant. The tension between you snaps like a rubber band, leaving behind only the rapid pounding of your hearts.

Almost instinctively, Jungkook jerks upright, pushing himself away while you scramble to sit up on the couch.

"That must be—"

"I guess that's—"

You both speak at the same time, voices overlapping, only to fall into an awkward silence. Cheeks flushed, breaths still uneven, you both pointedly avoid each other's eyes, pretending as if the last few seconds never happened.

"That must be the pizza." you finally say, forcing your voice to sound normal and Jungkook nods quickly, still refusing to meet your eyes. "I'll... I'll go get it." he informs and before you can respond, he's already turning on his heel, practically fleeing towards the front door.

As soon as he disappears through the doorway, you sink back into the couch, exhaling a shaky breath you didn't even realize you were holding. Your hand drifts to your chest, pressing against the frantic beat of your wild heart, like a caged animal trying to break free.

You close your eyes for a moment, but it does nothing to erase the image seared into your mind because all you can see is the way he looked on top of you, the way he looked into your eyes, the way he licked his lips.

You have no idea what this feeling is, why the proximity has left you breathless, why your knees feel weak, or why your spine feels like something dangerously close to jelly.

Your fingers twitch against your chest, pressing harder, as if you could physically restrain the rampage inside you, as if you could will your body into forgetting the way he looked at you.

But it's no use.

Jungkook returns with two large boxes of pizza and a couple of soda cans while you keep your eyes fixed on the screen where Attack on Titan still plays, except the storyline passes by without meaning, your mind too preoccupied to register any of it.

Jungkook nibbles on his lower lip as he walks closer, setting the boxes down on the coffee table before hesitantly lowering himself onto the couch. He keeps a noticeable distance between you, his posture slightly stiff.

God, he hopes he didn't make you uncomfortable. Prays you won't start treating him differently after this. It was truly an accident, except for the part where he just stayed there, hovering over you instead of moving.

Maybe he should have moved. Maybe he should have reacted faster.

He's spiraling.

"That smells good." you say suddenly breaking the awkwardness before reaching for one of the boxes and flipping it open. Casually, you pull out a slice and hand it to him, like you always do. "Here."

Jungkook hesitates for half a second, his eyes flicking to your face, but when he sees that there's no awkwardness, no tension in your expression... just warmth and normalcy, relief washes over him like a tide.

"Thank you." he murmurs, his lips twitching into a small, grateful smile as he takes the slice from your hand.

You pull out a slice for yourself, and the two of you settle into eating, shifting your attention back to the anime playing on the screen. The silence between you isn't heavy, but Jungkook still feels the sudden urge to fill it.

"How's your assignment coming along?" he asks, taking a bite of his pizza. "Oh, we're almost done. We should be able to submit it next week." you nod, reaching for a soda.

Jungkook hums, chewing thoughtfully. Knowing that you're almost done with the assignment eases something in his chest. Maybe once it's submitted, you won't have to spend as much time with Jaehyun but before he can say anything, you let out an exhausted sigh.

"I genuinely can't believe this semester is finally ending. But honestly? I never want to relive it again." you shudder dramatically, cracking open your soda can and taking a long sip making Jungkook chuckle beside you. "Yeah, I get that. It's been brutal."

"What are your plans for the break?" you ask suddenly, turning towards him. "Oh, I'm heading to Busan. My parents have been on my case about visiting." he answers, shaking his head with a small smile and you snicker. "Sounds like they miss you."

"Miss me? Please." He scoffs. "The second I walk through the door, my mom's gonna be like, 'Oh, Jungkookie, since you're here, can you fix the WiFi? The TV remote stopped working too. Oh, and the washing machine is making a weird noise.' They just miss getting things repaired for free."

You shake your head, amused. "Well, don't blame her. You really are the most handy IT guy. You're always fixing things around our apartment too." Your voice softens slightly at the end, making Jungkook glance at you for a beat longer than necessary.

"Yeah, that... that's true. But I swear, just because I study computer science, my family thinks I can hack into the government or... I don't know... bring back deleted WhatsApp messages or something."

That, for some reason, makes you laugh harder than you intend to. "Wait... has someone actually asked you to do that?" you gasp between giggles. "Oh yeah." he breathes out, proceeding to take a sip of his soda. "My aunt. She genuinely believed I could recover messages from two years ago." he sighs.

"Plus, my sister's been dying to test out her new designs on me." he adds casually. Right — Jungkook’s older sister was an insanely talented tattoo artist. “Oh right, I forgot you’re her muse." you giggle, nodding toward his inked-up forearms.

It’s always fascinated you, the contrast between Jungkook’s usual nerdy demeanor and the bold, intricate sleeve that tells a completely different story. The first time you saw it, you couldn’t wrap your head around how someone like him could be covered in tattoos like that.

But then he told you the story of how his sister first practiced her art on him, how that one small design spiraled into something bigger, how he realized he loved the way it looked and the way it felt like carrying a piece of her work with him everywhere he went.

And to be brutally honest, you think it’s one of the hottest things about him because you’ve caught yourself staring more times than you can count — when he’s slicing vegetables while he's cooking or when he's using the screwdriver to fix something or when he stretches and the ink shifts across his skin like it’s alive.

Yeah, it’s impossible not to look.

"What about you, though?" he asks after a moment, shifting slightly on the couch to face you better. "What are your plans for the break?"

"I'm going back to Ilsan too. I miss my dad." You exhale softly, a small, fond smile gracing your lips.

Jungkook hums in acknowledgment, a small smile tugging at his lips. And for a moment, the two of you lapse into silence, but this time, it feels comfortable, like neither of you are skirting around something unspoken.

And soon enough, just like that, you're back to your usual self, tossing question after question at Jungkook, trying (and failing) to navigate whatever the hell is happening on the screen.

“I swear to god, if one more random character turns out to be a Titan, I’m throwing this pizza straight at your face.” you grumble, taking an unnecessarily aggressive bite of your slice and all Jungkook can do is bite back his smile, the kind that threatens to split his face in two, because do you even realize how ridiculously, unfairly cute you are right now?

With his afternoon class just half an hour away, Jungkook remains perched on the kitchen island, absently chewing on an apple while his eyes stay glued to his phone as he watches a video titled: "Can You Really Cook an Egg on a PS5?"

The answer, apparently, is yes—if you block all the vents, run Elden Ring on max settings, and let it overheat to the point of near combustion. The guy in the video is currently cracking an egg onto the console, looking way too excited as the edges start turning white and Jungkook squints.

There's no way that's safe.

Just as he takes another bite of his apple, the doorbell rings. He blinks, reluctantly pausing the video (he needs to see how this ends) before standing up. You're still in the shower, so with a sigh, he makes his way towards the front door to see who it is.

With the half-eaten apple still in his hand, he swings the door open, only to frown instantly because the person standing on the other side is probably not even the last person he wants to see right now.

"Why are you here?" Jungkook blurts out, not bothering to hide the irritation on his face or in his tone.

Jaehyun merely rolls his eyes before stepping inside uninvited, his shoulder deliberately bumping against Jungkook's on the way in. "Where's Y/n?" he asks, like Jungkook is some receptionist.

Jungkook scoffs at the sheer audacity but begrudgingly shuts the door behind him. "I asked you a question." he says, keeping his voice firm, his annoyance barely contained.

Jaehyun exhales dramatically, like Jungkook is just so exhausting to deal with. "None of your business." he says, shamelessly striding towards the couch and plopping down on it like he owns the place.

Jungkook glares, grip tightening around his apple. He considers throwing it at Jaehyun's head but ultimately decides against it as he crosses his arms over his chest.

At least, for now.

Just then, the bathroom door creaks open, and you step out, towel wrapped around your damp hair and your huge bathrobe cinched around your frame. You move towards your room but pause mid-step when you spot Jaehyun in the living room and Jungkook standing stiffly nearby.

"Jae?" you ask, furrowing your brows as you adjust the towel on your head. "What are you doing here?"

Jaehyun's lips pull into a lazy smile. "Since we're turning in the assignment today, I thought we could go together. You know... to Mr. Jung's cabin."

Right. Today's the deadline.

But you distinctly remember telling Jaehyun that you'd meet him on campus, so seeing him here unannounced throws you off a bit. You glance at Jungkook, and his expression tells you instantly that he's not quite pleased seeing Jaehyun here.

"Well... I thought I'd meet you directly on campus." you say, hesitant and Jaehyun shrugs. "I know, but I thought it'd be nice if we walked there together." He says, leaning back against the couch.

You press your lips together, debating. It's not that big of a deal, you suppose.

"Fine." you breathe out. "Give me a few minutes. I'll go get ready." you inform and as you turn towards your room, you cast Jungkook a small, almost apologetic smile, hoping Jaehyun's sudden presence isn't annoying him too much.

The moment your door clicks shut, Jungkook steps closer, arms still crossed over his chest. His gaze locks onto Jaehyun with barely concealed irritation.

"Why bother coming here when she already said she'd meet you on campus?" Jungkook spits out, his voice edged with barely restrained irritation. "At this point, you're just looking for excuses to show up here."

Jaehyun exhales through his nose, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips as he leans back against the couch. "Damn, dude..." he drawls, stretching his arms behind his head. "You're not even gonna try to hide how much you hate me, huh?" His tone is amused, almost mocking like Jungkook's irritation is just entertainment for him.

"You know... you really impress me." Jaehyun continues with a smirk, and though Jungkook isn't sure what Jaehyun is about to say, he can already tell it's something ridiculous and meant purely to get under his skin.

"I mean, I get it—my existence near the girl you're in love with bothers you. That much is obvious." Jaehyun chuckles, shaking his head in mock sympathy. "But honestly? I gotta give you credit, man."

Jungkook's brows knit together, irritation flickering into confusion. "What the fuck are you saying?" he grits out, keeping his voice low.

Jaehyun exhales, shaking his head like he's genuinely impressed. "Living with her must be a real challenge, huh?" His voice drops. "Knowing you'll probably never have a shot with her, but still having to see her every single day? Watching her, hoping—pathetically, might I add—that one day she'll just... what? Wake up and suddenly fall for you?"

Jungkook's grip tightens around the apple in his hand, and he's sure that if he squeezes any harder, it'll burst apart in his palm. But before he can put an end to whatever nonsense is coming out of Jaehyun's mouth, the bastard pushes forward.

"And to make matters worse, there's another guy in the picture. And it just kills you, doesn't it?" Jaehyun leans forward now, elbows now resting on his knees, his voice dripping with arrogance. "The fact that you can't do anything about it. The fact that you think I'm stealing something from you." He scoffs, tilting his head.

"But let's be real, Jungkook. Even if I weren't in the picture, do you really think you'd ever have a chance?"

Jungkook's breath hitches. His skin is burning, his blood is boiling. "Just shut the fu—"

"You really think someone like Y/n would ever like someone like you?" Jaehyun interrupts smoothly, his scoff laced with pure condescension. "She's probably just nice to you because she feels bad for you. Because you're... well, you."

Jungkook sees red. His vision blurs at the edges, his patience fraying thread by thread. How dare this guy walk all over him like this? He parts his lips to retaliate, but Jaehyun just keeps going, reclining back into the couch with that infuriating smirk of his.

"She keeps you around because it's convenient. Because you're her roommate. She includes you in her content because she doesn't want you to feel left out." He exhales a laugh, shaking his head like he finds the whole thing funny.

Then, he levels Jungkook with a slow, smug grin. "You're like her pet nerd, man. That's honestly just sad."

At that moment, something in Jungkook shifts. His expression, once hardened with anger, flickers, just for a fraction of a second. The fire behind his glare dulls and morphs into something else, something far more unsettling. Like a slow, sinking drop in his stomach, a quiet, insidious doubt creeping in where it has no right to be.

Because as much as he doesn't want to let Jaehyun's words get to him, as much as he's always told himself that whatever Jaehyun says is just meant to provoke him, somehow, this—this—feels different. It doesn't feel like empty taunting or a cheap attempt to piss him off.

It feels like the truth.

A truth Jungkook never wanted to consider.

His grip on the apple tightens again, but his pulse wavers. He wants to scoff, to roll his eyes, to tell Jaehyun to shut the hell up and get out. But the words just won't come out. Because somewhere, buried in the venom of Jaehyun's condescending smirk, in the way he speaks like he knows something Jungkook doesn't, a seed of doubt takes root.

Do you really feel bad for him? Do you really only include him so he won't feel left out? Is he just... convenient to you because you live together?

The thoughts come fast, scraping against his skull like nails on glass. It's stupid, it's ridiculous—it has to be. He knows you. Thinks the world of you. You're the last person to be that cruel.

But it doesn't take much, does it?

Not for someone like Jungkook... someone who has spent his entire life standing on the outskirts, watching as the world moved past him like he was never meant to be a part of it.

Someone who has always been the quietest voice in the room, easily drowned out, easily overlooked. The boy who was more comfortable with equations and codes than with people, who found solace in screens or pages rather than conversations. The boy who never quite fit, who never quite mattered in the way others did.

It doesn't take much to convince someone like himthat someone like you—only keeps him around out of obligation. That maybe every laugh, every kind word, every inclusion was never because you wanted him there, but because you felt like you had to.

That maybe, in the grand scheme of things, he is nothing more than a convenience... a default presence in your life simply because he happens to live under the same roof.

And that? That thought hurts in a way he never expected. It coils in his chest, sinking deep into the cracks of insecurities he thought he had long buried.

Jungkook stands there, unmoving like a statue carved from the weight of his own thoughts as Jaehyun's words continue to ricochet inside his skull. Each syllable lands like a carefully aimed strike, while Jaehyun?

Jaehyun just watches him with that same smug, self-satisfied smirk, like he's basking in the sight of Jungkook's silence. Like he's thriving off the lack of a response, off the way Jungkook has been rendered utterly speechless.

The sound of your door unlocking shatters the silence.

Jungkook flinches, snapping back to reality just in time to see you step out, your hair now dry, your bag slung effortlessly over your shoulder. You're wearing a fitted top and a denim skirt that ends just at the middle of your thighs—casual, effortless, and yet, somehow, still unfairly perfect.

Your eyes immediately land on Jaehyun as you stride towards the couch, completely oblivious to the wreckage he's left in Jungkook's wake. "Let's head out?" Jaehyun asks, standing up from the couch with an easy smile and you nod before turning towards the door.

"Bye, Kook." you say, your voice soft as you smile sweetly at him. "Have a good day. I'll see you later."

You walk past him without a second thought, slipping into your shoes as Jaehyun follows behind you.

Jungkook turns to see you both at the door way and hears you both murmuring, something quiet, something casual, but it barely registers because he's still drowning. Still trapped beneath the weight of words that shouldn't have mattered but somehow do.

Jaehyun lets out an airy chuckle, throwing Jungkook one last look, before stepping outside with you.

And just like that, the door clicks shut, leaving Jungkook standing there, adrift in the silence, drowning in thoughts he never wanted to have, thoughts that now refuse to leave.

Because no matter how much he wants to shake them off, the seed has already been planted. And the worst part?

He's afraid it might have been growing there all along.

"I can't believe that stupid assignment is finally fucking over." Jimin exhales, shaking his head as he leads the way out of the teacher's lounge with you, Jaehyun and Namjoon following closely behind after just turning the assignment in.

"But seriously, it's insane how this semester is already wrapping up. Like, what do you mean we have finals in two weeks?" He groans, running a hand through his hair as you all make your way down the hallway.

"On the bright side, we've got our break coming up." Jaehyun chimes in, his hands tucked lazily into his pockets and Namjoon nods at that. "Yeah, and even though it's just a month, it's definitely needed." He sighs, cracking his neck, already feeling the exhaustion creeping in.

"Why don't we all grab something to eat together? It's Friday, and I think we deserve to blow off some steam after that absolute nightmare of an assignment. Plus... I'm starving." Jimin suddenly suggests, flashing a sheepish smile as he falls into step beside you.

"Honestly? Same." you nod, absentmindedly rubbing your stomach before glancing over at Jaehyun and Namjoon. "You guys in?"

"Yeah, I don't mind." Namjoon shrugs, stretching his arms behind his head. Jaehyun tilts his head slightly, as if contemplating, before nodding. "Yeah, sure. But real question—what are we eating?"

Jimin hums, tapping his chin in thought before his eyes light up. "I know this hotpot place downtown. Why don't we go there?" he suggests, glancing at the three of you who instantly give him approving nods.

Soon enough, the evening slips by as the four of you spend time together in the cozy hotpot restaurant, savoring both the food and the easy conversation. But eventually, with plates emptied and bellies full, it's time to part ways.

Namjoon is the first to leave, heading straight for the subway station with a casual wave. Jimin, meanwhile, slides into the backseat of his cab, rolling down the window to glance at you. "You sure you don't wanna come with?" he asks, brows raised.

You shake your head with a small smile. "It's alright, Chim. I'll walk."

Jaehyun, who was just in the middle of booking his own cab, quickly shoves his phone back into his pocket. "Then I'll walk with you." he offers. "Oh, you really don't have to." you say quickly, but he just shrugs, with a grin.

"Well, okay then, you guys figure it out. I'm heading out." Jimin leans back into his seat, already getting comfortable. "Y/n text me when you get home!" he calls out just before the car pulls away, leaving you alone with Jaehyun on the dimly lit sidewalk.

You turn to him with a pointed look and swat his arm. "Hey, you should've just booked your cab."

Jaehyun barely flinches, his expression entirely unbothered. "And let you walk home alone? Yeah, no thanks," he says easily, already taking a few steps forward.

You roll your eyes but fall into step beside him, the two of you blending into the steady flow of people weaving through the bustling streets—couples ducking into cafés, groups of friends spilling out of restaurants, neon lights flickering against the pavement.

Jaehyun suddenly smirks. "I gotta admit, I didn't expect working with you to be such a breeze."

You narrow your eyes at him, mirroring his grin. "What's that supposed to mean?" you challenge. "You thought I'd be a bad assignment partner?"

He shrugs, far too relaxed. "Sort of."

Your mouth falls open in mock offense before you swat his arm again. "That's so mean." You laugh, shaking your head, and just then, your eyes suddenly catch on a store display on the other side of the street that makes your heart skip a beat.

It's a toy store, the shelves stacked with colorful puzzles and games, but what truly grabs your attention is the bold sign right outside the entrance—Limited Edition 21x21 Rubik's Cube Available. On Sale Now!

"Oh my god..." you gasp, already changing direction without a second thought while Jaehyun blinks, watching in bewilderment as you suddenly make a beeline for the store. "Hey, uh... Where—"

"Can we make a stop there, please?" You interject, turning to him with an excited smile, practically bouncing on your feet as you point towards the toy store.

"The toy store?" Jaehyun asks, confused. "Yeah! They apparently have the 21x21 rubik's cube in stock—and it's on sale." You turn back towards the store, eyes practically shining. "I have to get it for Kook."

Jaehyun watches you, exasperated, but you don't notice.

Your mind is already elsewhere, thinking about Jungkook and his oddly specific hobby of collecting all kinds of rubik's cubes. You know how badly he's wanted the 21x21 variation—he's grumbled about it enough times, always complaining about how it's out of stock everywhere.

And now that you have a chance to get it for him, there's no way you're passing it up.

Jaehyun, on the other hand, has to fight the urge to groan out loud because are you seriously about to waste time in some toy store just so you can buy a damn rubik's cube for that nerd of a roommate?

This was so not how he had envisioned this walk going.

But before he gets the chance to question you again, he lets the thought go and sighs before lazily following you into the toy store and watching you get all giddy over a stupid rubik's cube.

All for that nerd Jungkook.

The moment you step into the store, your eyes instantly land on exactly what you were looking for. "Oh my god, he's going to love this." you murmur, already picturing Jungkook's reaction.

Jaehyun, however, instantly notices the price of the cube and his eyes widen in disbelief. "You're seriously spending that much... for your roommate?" His tone is incredulous, as if he can't fathom why anyone would go to such lengths.

"Um, yeah." you say nonchalantly, shrugging like it's the most obvious thing in the world. You glance at the price, completely unfazed because you already had a rough idea of how much it would cost.

Jaehyun scoffs, eyebrows raising as he struggles to mask his irritation. "Why, though?" he presses, trying to keep his voice casual. "Just because." you shrug with a smile, picking up a fresh box from the shelf before making your way to the counter without a second thought.

Once you step out of the store, Jaehyun falls back into step beside you, his irritation tucked neatly behind a mask of nonchalance. He decides to keep his focus on you instead, letting you ramble about some ridiculous high school memory.

It makes the walk easier, makes the time pass faster until, before either of you realize it, the familiar sight of your apartment building comes into view.

"Thanks for walking me home, though I hope you know it was completely unnecessary." You turn to Jaehyun with a small smile. He lets out a chuckle, shaking his head. "You really need to stop acting like you're inconveniencing me. It's the least I can do for a friend."

You smile at that, but he's already speaking again. "We are friends, right? I'd hate to think I was just a temporary assignment partner to you." His playful pout makes you laugh. "Of course, we're friends." you assure him, tilting your head.

"Glad to hear it. So don't go pretending like you don't know me the next time we cross paths on campus." he teases. "Wouldn't dream of it." you reply with a giggle. He grins before glancing up at the darkening sky. "Anyway, it's getting late. You should head inside."

"And you should go home." you quip, nudging your chin toward him. Jaehyun exhales, rocking back on his heels. "Yeah, yeah. Well then, I'll see you around."

There's a brief pause before he subtly opens his arms, and you immediately recognize the gesture. Without much thought, you step forward, wrapping your arms around to hug him.

Just a simple parting hug. No big deal.

Jungkook had returned from class nearly three hours ago to an empty apartment. He figured you were still busy with work, but somehow, being alone had only made it worse. His mind kept circling back to that conversation with Jaehyun.

In fact, it never left him. It had followed him all throughout his lecture, clung to the edges of his thoughts like a stubborn stain, looping over and over in the cruelest of ways.

And now, sitting out on the balcony of your shared apartment with a half-empty beer can dangling from his fingers after downing who knows how many before it, the conversation still refuses to let him go.

Jungkook glances down at the empty cans resting on the floor beside his chair and tips his head back with a sigh, staring blankly at the expanse of the night sky, hoping—praying—that maybe if he sits here long enough, the weight in his chest will lift.

But it doesn't.

Because no matter how much he wants to brush it off, Jaehyun's words had cracked something open inside him. Had made him look at something he had never even considered before. Had forced him to question things he had never thought to doubt.

That maybe, to you, he was just an obligation. A convenience. A pet nerd.

He exhales sharply, taking another swig of his beer, but it tastes awful tonight... too bitter, too sharp against his tongue. He scowls at the sensation, shifting in his seat as if the discomfort is something he can physically shake off.

And then suddenly, a faint murmur rises from the street below, breaking through the restless hum in his mind and his gaze flickers downward as he peaks over the railing.

And there you are, walking side by side with Jaehyun down the street and Jungkook instantly freezes.

You're holding onto a large paper bag, but he barely registers it, because all he can focus on is the easy, natural way you move together, the way your head tilts towards Jaehyun as you speak, the way you seem so comfortable with him by your side.

You were with him this whole time?

His grip tightens around the beer can, metal bending slightly under the force.

You submitted the assignment today. The whole reason you were spending time with Jaehyun in the first place, is over. So why are you still hanging out with him? Why are you laughing like that? Why is he walking you home at this hour?

His eyes flicker back to the bag in your hands.

Did you go shopping with him? Is he your shopping partner now? Did you drag him into different stores, let him see the indecisive way you hover over products, let him tease you over your choices? Did he help you pick things out, offer opinions that Jungkook thought were his to give?

It's stupid. So, so stupid. Jungkook knows he's being irrational, knows how miserably unreasonable it is to let something this trivial get under his skin, but god, he just can't help it.

The sick feeling in his stomach festers, spreading like an ache he can't shake off.

His eyes remain fixed on the scene below, watching as you and Jaehyun come to a slow stop in front of the entrance to your apartment building. He finds himself shifting forward, standing to get a better view, even though a part of him hates how this must look, how he must look, lurking on the balcony like some desperate voyeur.

But he just can't look away.

Not when he sees Jaehyun murmuring something to you, not when you giggle at whatever he's saying. And then—

Then you move closer.

Your arms lift, wrapping around Jaehyun in an easy, familiar hug and suddenly, something inside Jungkook snaps.

A sharp, piercing ringing floods his ears, drowning out everything else. His vision blurs at the edges, his throat tightening with something he doesn't want to name. He exhales sharply, chest heaving with the weight of something too much, too sudden, too overwhelming.

And he can't—he can't do this. Can't just stand here and witness whatever's going on between you and Jaehyun.

So before he even fully realizes it, he's spinning on his heels, retreating back inside the apartment, yanking the balcony door shut behind him with a force that rattles the frame.

The glass quivers.

And so does he.

Once Jaehyun leaves, you make your way towards your flat, your fingers tightening around the paper bag as a small, giddy smile tugs at your lips.

Before unlocking the door, you glance down at the bag, already trying to imagine what Jungkook's reaction is going to be when he sees the ridiculously oversized rubik's cube you've bought for him.

You fish out your keys and unlock the door, stepping inside and slipping off your shoes—but the moment you do, something feels... off.

It's too quiet.

No sound from the TV. No faint clatter of dishes from the kitchen. Not even the rhythmic clicking of his keyboard that usually fills the apartment late into the night. You pause, tilting your head slightly. Is Jungkook already asleep?

That's odd.

Stepping further in, your gaze drifts to the glass balcony door and that's when you spot the multiple beer cans scattered carelessly on the ground beside the familiar plastic chair and a frown tugs at your brows.

Jungkook drinks, sure, but he's never been the one to sit alone and down cans by himself. He always prefers drinking when you're around, and even though his tolerance is high, something about this... him drinking alone, doesn't sit right with you.

You shake off the uneasy feeling and head to your room, placing the paper bag on your nightstand. Maybe tonight isn't the best time to surprise him. If he's drunk, it can wait till morning.

Still, the nagging concern in your chest refuses to settle so you pad across the wooden floor and stop outside his door, softly knocking. "Hey, Kook? Are you asleep?"

Silence.

On most nights, you'd take that as your cue to leave him be, assuming he's already knocked out. But tonight, you hesitate because something about this doesn't feel right. You wait a few moments, debating whether to push further, before slowly and hesitantly turning the doorknob.

"I'm coming in." you warn softly, pushing the door open and your eyes immediately find Jungkook, curled up under the covers, lying on his side with his back turned to you. His shoulders are tense, posture stiff like he's bracing for something.

"Kook?" you call out again gently, but the way he curls in tighter, pulling the blanket up higher over his frame, is enough to tell you he's not asleep. "Hey... what's wrong?" you ask, still lingering by the door, unsure if you should step in or step back. "I saw the beer cans..." you add, hoping it might coax him to talk. "You never drink alone. Did something happen today?"

Under the covers, Jungkook grits his teeth, jaw clenched so tight it aches. He doesn't want to hear your voice right now, not when every syllable feels like salt in a fresh wound. Not when his mind is still replaying the sight of you and Jaehyun.

Not when the bitter taste of the beer still stubbornly sits on his tongue and not when Jaehyun's voice, his words, his taunts are all clawing their way back up to the surface, pressing against the inside of Jungkook's skull until he feels like he might combust.

He knows if he opens his mouth now, something ugly will spill out, something raw and twisted that he doesn't even fully understand himself.

But you're still there. Still standing at the threshold, your worry so palpable it practically seeps into the room. You take the smallest step forward. "Jungkook..." you try again. "You know you can talk to me, right? Whatever it is... I'm here."

Your voice is a comfort you don't even realize you've become... a warmth he never asked for but somehow clung to, thread by fragile thread, until it wrapped around him like a lifeline.

And that's exactly the problem.

Because comfort breeds hope, and hope is a dangerous thing for someone who's spent too long convincing himself he didn't deserve it in the first place.

Suddenly the sharp sound of his tongue clicking fills the silence, loud enough to make you flinch. "Can you just leave me alone?" he spits and you freeze for a brief moment at his tone. You've never heard Jungkook talk like that.

"I... what?" you ask, confusion laced into your tone. "I just wanted to check—"

"Why do you always act like you're entitled to walk into my room whenever you feel like it?" he snaps, voice raised just enough to sting as he sits up abruptly, sheets pooling at his waist, and when you get a look at his eyes, you're confused. There's something storming behind them... something troubled, something restless, something dangerously close to breaking apart.

"What— I'm— Kook, what... what's wrong?" you stammer, your voice small, fragile against the weight of his glare. He exhales sharply, like the air itself offends him, yanking the sheets off his body with a roughness that startles you as he stands to his feet. "Just get out." he mutters.

And something about the way he says it, the way he looks at you, rubs you the wrong way. You don't know if it's the alcohol talking or if it's pure, unfiltered anger, but if there's one thing you've never done, it's disrespected Jungkook. So why the hell should you stand here and let him tear into you like this, when you have no clue why you deserve this in the first place.

"Excuse me?" Your arms fold across your chest, feet planted firmly into the ground. "What's with the attitude?"

"Attitude?" He lets out a hollow laugh, the kind that doesn't belong to the Jungkook you know. The sound of it makes your stomach turn. His gaze locks onto you, and that's when you see how his eyes glisten but there's no time to process that because he's already speaking again.

"I'm sick of you."

Three words. Brutal and merciless. They hit you like a slap you never saw coming.

"I'm sick of you walking into my room like you own it. I'm sick of being your personal mannequin every time you can't pick a fucking outfit or decide between two pairs of earrings. Sick of you asking for my opinion like my words mean something — like I mean something, when we both know the second you get what you want, I'm invisible again."

Your heart stutters in disbelief, chest tightening with each accusation hurled your way. But Jungkook's just getting started, words spilling faster now, sharper with every breath.

"I'm sick of being your backup plan — the human crutch you lean on whenever it suits you. You only come to me when you need something. Someone to just go along with everything you say. Someone to play your little sidekick in this perfect world of yours." His voice cracks, but he powers through it, jaw clenched so tight you can see the muscle twitch.

"I'm done being your fucking plaything, Y/n."

The air between you turns suffocating, his bitterness clashing against your confusion like a storm building with no place to go.

"Jungkook??" you start, but your voice falters halfway, cracking under the weight of confusion clawing at your throat. "Where... where is this even coming from? Look... I think you're really drunk right now and—"

"Can you just leave?" he interjects with a scoff, running a hand through his already-messy hair before turning his back on you, like the mere act of looking at you is too much to bear. "Go back to Jaehyun." he mutters.

"Maybe he'll help you pick out a new set of nails. Or film a tiktok. Or whatever it is you need to feel relevant today." The jab is low, muttered under his breath, but sharp enough to slice through your already fragile composure.

"What does Jaehyun have to do with any of this?" you demand, voice rising just slightly, the confusion twisting into something bordering on anger. Because none of this makes sense... not the venom in his voice, not the sudden shift in his attitude, and definitely not the way he's acting like you're the villain in some story you didn't even know you were a part of.

"CAN YOU PLEASE JUST LEAVE ??" This time, he practically yells, voice cracking under the weight of his frustration. There's something almost desperate in the way he says it, like he's begging you to go before he loses the last shred of control he has left. Like he knows the alcohol is working overtime, dragging out words he doesn't mean, words he won't be able to take back once they're out in the open.

"No." Your voice is steady, even as your heart pounds in your ears. You step forward, planting yourself firmly in front of him. "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what the fuck this is all about. Because right now, you sound completely ridiculous." Your hands fly up as you speak, your frustration boiling over.

"Oh, I'm ridiculous?" He lets out a hollow chuckle, one that makes your stomach knot as he turns to face you. "Right. I'm the fucking clown here for actually caring about you, when it's so painfully obvious that the only reason Jaehyun's even nice to you is because he wants to fuck you."

The words hit like a slap, and even Jungkook looks momentarily stunned by how harsh he sounds. But he doesn't take it back. He doesn't soften. Instead, he holds your gaze, daring you to react.

Your lips part, but no words come out at first. There's only that awful, twisting ache in your chest, followed by a low, trembling whisper. "What the hell did you just say?"

"Oh, come on, Y/n." he snaps, throwing his head back, hands planted firmly on his hips like he's trying to hold himself together. "Are you seriously that naive? You actually believe a guy like Jaehyun is just being friendly? You seriously trust him?" The laugh that follows is humorless, dripping with disbelief.

"What is your problem with Jaehyun?" you ask, voice sharper now, anger slowly overtaking the confusion. "I know him better than you, Jungkook. And honestly? It just looks like you have no idea what you're talking about and I'm so tired of you always twisting him into something he's not. It's exhausting."

"Right. Of course." Jungkook's laugh is sharp enough to slice through a bone, and it makes your blood boil. "Of course, you'd say that because I'm the crazy nerd who has no idea what he's talking about while he's your precious friend. So excuse me for actually giving a shit and trying to fucking warn you because god forbid someone who cares about you tries to protect you."

You scoff, disbelief flooding every inch of you. "Do you even realize how insane you sound right now???"

"Right, so now, I'm insane." he laughs again, shaking his head. "You really don't get it, do you? I'm only reliable to you when you want to film some trend for your tiktok page or you need someone to hold the camera for your pictures or... or give you an opinion on your outfit, or help you test out your makeup. That's all I am to you, isn't it? Some idiot you can pull into whatever you want because I'm convenient. Because I'm easy."

The accusation knocks the air clean out of your lungs. For a moment, all you can hear is the faint ringing in your ears... the kind that comes when a blow lands too hard, too fast, leaving no time to brace for impact. You don't know if it's the alcohol swimming in his veins or if there's something deeper unraveling inside him, something that's been building for longer than you realized.

But either way, your mind spins, your eyes sting, your heart stumbles over itself, and all you can do is stare at him, wide-eyed and breathless. "You really think... I'm that shallow?" You whisper, feeling your whole body tremble. "You really believe... that's all you are to me?"

"I don't think, Y/n. I know." The certainty in his voice makes your heart break. "Because let's be honest, Y/n... you're so fucking oblivious. So blind to anything that doesn't fit neatly into your perfect little world. All you see is you... your life, your influencer crap, your curated existence where every outfit, every angle, every caption matters more than the people standing right beside you."

He exhales harshly, running a hand through his hair, frustration dripping from every word. "You never bother to look past what's directly in front of you. If something isn't wrapped up and handed to you in plain sight, it doesn't fucking exist to you. And if anyone tries to warn you or tell you something you don't want to hear, you'll just brush it off like it's noise because you always know best."

He pauses, closing his eyes as his tongue pokes his inner cheek. "So tell me, Y/n. Why the hell am I even standing here, wasting my time, wasting my breath, when I already know exactly how this ends?"

There's a pause... a silence so deafening it drowns out every other sound, leaving nothing but the roar of your own pulse thundering in your ears. Your entire body feels like it's on fire, skin prickling, blood boiling beneath the surface. Your legs threaten to give out, and your chest aches like your heart might splinter apart right there in his room.

Because the sight before you feels like something out of a nightmare — a version of Jungkook you've never seen before. So cruel. So angry. So intent on wounding you in ways you never thought he could.

And knowing this is how he sees you... this twisted version of you he's built inside his head, it makes you sick to your stomach. You can't even recognize yourself in the reflection of his words. You can't recognize him either because in his eyes, you're nothing more than a girl who uses him, a girl who takes and takes and never sees the damage left behind.

You can't even stand to look at him right now.

"Fuck you." your hoarse voice cuts through the air, sharp and trembling all at once, and for the first time all night, they seem to actually land. It's like the phrase itself snaps Jungkook out of the angry haze he's been spiraling in, dragging him harshly back into reality.

And suddenly, the weight of everything he just spewed... every cruel word, every accusation dripping in bitterness, crashes down on him all at once.

His mind was already a mess, thoughts piling up and collapsing under their own weight, and god knows how many cans of beer only poured gasoline over the fire. But now, standing here, watching the way your eyes glisten with heavy tears you're clearly fighting not to let fall — he knows.

He's gone too far.

But it doesn't matter, because you've already turned on your heel, walking out of his room as the door slams so hard behind you that it rattles the frame and Jungkook just stands there... frozen, knowing damn well there's no point in running after you now because the damage is already done.

And maybe, there's no coming back from it.

The minute Jungkook's eyes flutter open, a sharp, splitting pain shoots through his skull, forcing a low groan from his throat. His head throbs in time with his heartbeat, and for a moment, the only thing he can focus on is the sheer discomfort pulsing behind his eyes.

He doesn't even remember when sleep managed to claim him — doesn't know if it even could be called sleep at this point. It felt more like passing out, drowning under the weight of alcohol and exhaustion, until everything just shut down.

Maybe it was the beer. Or maybe it was the emotional storm he set loose in his own damn room.

Unlike you, no amount of alcohol could ever grant Jungkook the mercy of forgetting. Every word he spat out, every venom-laced accusation, every careless action from last night still clings to him like smoke in his lungs... impossible to breathe past, impossible to forget.

Sobriety doesn't cleanse him, it only sharpens the edges of his guilt, replaying the night in vivid clarity until it's all he can see.

He exhales shakily, running a hand down his face as he sits up. His body feels heavy, like guilt itself has settled into his bones.

Luckily, it's the weekend so he has no classes to attend, but university is the least of his concerns right now. Because beyond this door, past the thin walls of his room, is you. And the thought of facing you feels like stepping onto a battlefield he already lost.

God, why did he go so far last night? Why did he let everything boil over like that? He desperately wishes that he could justify it somehow, but there's no excuse good enough to make sense of the way he tore into you.

The combination of alcohol, unchecked insecurities, and the festering jealousy he had been trying to swallow down for weeks turned him into someone cruel.

And the worst part is, he knows exactly where it all came from. Knows that half the venom he spat at you wasn't even his own voice, but a twisted echo of all the insecurities Jaehyun had planted in his mind. All the doubts he thought he buried. All the fears he thought were beneath him.

And yet, he let them sink in. Let them wrap around his throat until they came spilling out in words he can never take back.

He hates it. Hates himself for giving them power. Hates that he let jealousy and insecurity turn him into someone you probably don't even recognize. Someone he doesn't recognize either.

He can't believe it, can't wrap his head around the fact that he hurt you, of all people. The one person who's always been there, always understood him in ways no one else ever could. The one person he's loved... quietly, desperately, for longer than he's even willing to admit to himself.

With a heavy sigh, he steps out of his room and drags himself to the bathroom. Cold water might not fix much, but maybe it'll wash off the grogginess, the self-loathing, the stale bitterness clinging to his skin.

Because no matter how much he wants to hide out in his room forever, he knows he can't avoid you. Not when you live under the same roof. And when the time comes to face you, he knows... the look in your eyes will hurt more than any hangover ever could.

Once he's done freshening up, Jungkook steps into the living room, his gaze immediately drifting towards your closed bedroom door at the far end. He wonders if you're still asleep — or worse, if you've decided to barricade yourself inside for the entire weekend just to avoid him.

The thought alone sends a fresh pulse of pain shooting through his already throbbing head.

Maybe he should go for a walk. Clear his mind. Let the cool morning air numb the edges of his spiraling thoughts. Maybe if he can think straight, he can find the right words for an apology that doesn't sound pathetic and a way to piece together the wreckage he caused.

It's laughable, really.

An apology couldn't possibly erase the things he said. But still, it's the bare minimum and it's all he has right now.

Dragging himself towards the doorway, he opens the shoe cabinet to grab his sneakers, but his hand freezes mid-air. Three shelves — the ones you always claimed for yourself, filled with your endless collection of shoes — are almost entirely empty.

The heels you complained about but wore religiously. The sandals you slipped into on lazy mornings. The sneakers you wore everyday to university. They're gone.

Not rearranged, not tidied up — just gone.

His brows knit together in confusion. He blinks once, twice, willing the image in front of him to change. Maybe he's imagining it. Maybe his mind, already clouded with regret, is playing cruel tricks. But the shelves remain just as bare, the emptiness staring back at him like a gaping wound. And that's when the cold fear starts to settle in, slithering into his veins like ice water.

Without wasting another second, he turns on his heel and practically bolts to your bedroom. There's no hesitation when he pushes the door open, no knocking — because suddenly, his fear outweighs every sense of decorum.

And when he steps inside, the fear that had been gnawing at the edges of his mind solidifies into something much heavier. Because right there, in plain sight, is your half-empty wardrobe with the hangers swinging slightly out of place and the remaining clothes pushed messily to one side.

He steps further in, eyes flickering to the bed where the sheets lay crumpled and tangled and then, almost instinctively, his gaze shifts to the nightstand, landing on the paper bag. The same one you'd been clutching in your hand last night when he spotted you with Jaehyun from the balcony.

It shouldn't matter. Not right now. Not when there are far more pressing things to worry about — like the fact that half your belongings are missing and your presence is nowhere to be found. But despite the rational voice in his head, his body moves on its own as he steps closer and his fingers ghost over the edge of the bag, just enough to peer inside.

His eyes widen the instant they land on the box inside, the bold, unmistakable letters printed across the top feel like a punch straight to his gut — sharp, unforgiving, and entirely deserved. His stomach churns violently, and there's a hollow ache expanding in his throat, the kind that comes when guilt is so heavy, it feels physical.

Jungkook feels like the biggest piece of shit to ever walk this earth — no, worse than that. Like the human embodiment of every bad decision, every reckless impulse, every thoughtless word that ever left his mouth.

He stands frozen, rooted to the spot, staring down at the 21x21 rubik's cube box — the same one he had spent months obsessing over, scouring every website, visiting every store, only to come up empty-handed every single time because it wasn't available anywhere.

And now here it is, sitting quietly in a bag you brought home, a silent reminder of how deeply you knew him, how much you cared, even when he was too blind to see it.

How you always seemed to hold on to the most trivial things he said, like the things he barely even remembered saying himself. Like the other day when Jimin had mentioned the ruckus you had caused at the grocery store, just to hunt down a snack that Jungkook loved so much.

Or the way you never — not even once — made him feel embarrassed about the things that made him who he was. Like those nights you curled up beside him, watching anime even though he could tell it wasn't really your thing.

Or the times you clumsily grabbed a controller, trying to navigate a game even after admitting that video games made your brain feel like it was overheating.

And that one time, when he was knee-deep into coding some app, you sat beside him for hours, asking the silliest questions. Like if 'public static void' was some secret spell, or if the code could understand sarcasm, or if bugs were actual tiny creatures living in his laptop.

But he didn't mind. Not even a little. Because you were there, genuinely interested, even if you didn't fully understand.

In a world full of people like Jaehyun, people who sneered at his interests, mocked his passions, rolled their eyes at the things that lit him up inside, he had you. You, who never dismissed his hyperfixations as childish or weird, who never made him feel like his interests, his passions were boring or not worth the while.

Because you cared, even when you didn't have to. Even when it would've been easier to just ignore him and dismiss the things he likes, you stayed, trying to understand his world just because it was his.

How, all throughout high school, he was just there.

Not the life of the party, never the one anyone texted first — or at all, if he's being honest. Never the one anyone saved a seat for at the lunch table or dragged along for spontaneous midnight runs to the arcade.

Too quiet. Too awkward. Too easy to overlook.

He was the background noise in everyone else's coming-of-age story, a shadow against the walls of every hallway, a name barely anyone remembered until the attendance was called by the teacher.

Just there — existing, breathing, occupying space, but never truly seen.

People passed him by like scenery, glanced through him like glass, mostly acknowledged his presence only when it was impossible to ignore like a bump in the hallway, an accidental brush of shoulders, a group project where they needed just one more person.

To them, he was a placeholder. A footnote in stories far more interesting than his own. And he thought he'd made peace with that... with being invisible.

Until he came to university — and met you.

Until he was searching for a roommate — and somehow, it was you.

You, who pulled him out of his shell and into the light with nothing but gentleness.

You, who welcomed him into your world, made space for him in something you were passionate about, something that mattered to you so deeply... something he turned around and tore apart with careless words and cruel jabs last night.

The very thing that brought you both closer, the thing you once shared with him like a piece of your heart, folding him into your world of silly videos and spontaneous laughter, making him the unexpected star in a spotlight that had always belonged to you, became the very thing he ridiculed.

And that truth is a punch to the gut, because if anyone else had disrespected your passions like that, he would've fought them on the spot. But it wasn't anyone else — it was him.

And suddenly, it's as clear as day that none of this is the beer's fault, none of this is Jaehyun's fault. Every cruel word, every misplaced accusation, every ugly insecurity that spilled out of him last night — all of it, every ounce of damage, was his own. His own mistake. His own idiocy. His own inability to believe he could be worthy of someone like you.

He ruined the one thing that truly meant the world to him... the one thing that gave him the chance to connect with you, to laugh with you, to simply exist beside you and said things he didn't mean, lashed out in ways he never intended, all because he was too caught up with the noise inside his own head.

He swallows hard, still staring blankly at the box, almost like if he blinks, it might vanish... like if he stares at it long enough, he can somehow rewrite the truth of what it really is.

He can't believe how effortlessly his mind turned against you, how easily he assumed the worst — how quickly something so pure became something ugly in his head.

That it could've been an outfit, an accessory, something trivial that Jaehyun had helped you pick out. That you had replaced Jungkook, your little shopping partner, your unqualified but always eager style consultant, with a person like Jaehyun.

The very thought now feels ridiculous, almost laughable, if it didn't make him sick to his stomach.

He jumped into conclusions without a second thought, all because he saw you with another guy. As if you owed him an explanation. As if he had some unspoken right to be angry, to feel betrayed — when the brutal truth was, even when he learned the whole truth about Jaehyun and tried to warn you, he never once gave you the honesty you deserved.

Never told you the real reason behind his distrust, never admitted what he had heard from Taehyung, because he was more worried of overstepping, more afraid of looking like the villain in your eyes, more scared of you finding out about his feelings.

"Jaehyun has a reputation." he could've said. "Taehyung's heard the way he talks in the locker room — the way he talks about girls. So you should be careful around him."

It was that simple. That's all he had to do... say those words, or at least something close to them. Just a moment of honesty, instead of hiding behind vague warnings and random questions like "Do you trust Jaehyun?"

So how could his concern ever be justified when he never gave you the full story? When all he ever did was beat around the bush, hoping you'd read between the lines he was too paranoid to write?

He doesn't even realize when the first tear breaks free, sliding silently down his cheek but by the time the second one falls, it's almost impossible to ignore the pain in his chest.

You were planning to give him this. A gift that showed, in the simplest yet loudest way, just how much you saw him, how much you remembered even the tiniest parts of him... the parts no one else ever cared to notice.

And in return, what did he give you?

Cruel words sharpened to cut, accusations flung carelessly into the air, every insecurity he had rotting into poison and spilling out of his mouth all because some random person triggered him. He gave you doubt, and hurt, and every ugly, jagged piece of himself he never meant for you to see.

And now, you're gone.

<-part 1 // part 3 ->

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missadangel · 5 months ago

Text

The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x OC)

All Chapters List

VII. The Wedding (+18, Smut, MDNI)

Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia…

Where you are Gaius, I am Gaia…

Domus Severiana…

The night before the wedding.

It had been five days since the fight, during which time General Acacius had paid Domus Severiana a visit on two occasions. The exact date of the wedding had also been agreed upon. Your dowry had been arranged by your half-brothers and was in alignment with the General's – your future husband – expectations. Tomorrow promises to be an eventful day in the Domus Severiana, as weddings are usually held in the home of the bride's family according to Roman tradition. After the wedding ceremony, you and your husband would be conveyed to your new home, the General's villa, in a carriage. Fortunately, you were not a stranger to there. You had already spent some time there, although not as his slave this time, but as his wife. You were pleased to be leaving this fascinating place, particularly as you did not intend to spend any time in the same place as Caracalla and Julia. However, with Geta, was a different story. Perhaps he was the only one you would miss, as you felt a certain bond with him. He seemed to feel similarly towards you, but it was challenging to discern his feelings. It seemed like a puzzle that could never be solved.

On that night, in your room in the imperial chamber, on your big bed, you were sitting with Decima, chatting, perhaps for the last time. The slave girl, Geta's favourite, had brought you a bucket of verbena for your bridal wreath-like crown. She had offered to make you the crown you wanted, but you were having trouble deciding on the colour and were seeking their input.

"Perhaps pink would be a good choice?" Decima picked up the pink verbena.

"I'm not sure," you replied, shaking your head doubtfully. "It might not match the colour of the veil.”

"Since your dress will be white, maybe it should be a lighter colour," the other girl suggested, taking a lighter pink from the bucket.

You picked up a white one from the bucket and placed it on your saffron-coloured veil, which was laid at the end of the bed. "I think white is a simple and pure choice. So, the green leaves will complete it."

"Ah, just like a bride, a wonderful choice, my lady."

"Yes, it's beautiful." Decima agreed.

Before you could say anything, Geta burst into the room with a big smile on his face. The girls stood up and greeted him.

"You seem really focused on those flowers, like it's a matter of life and death. Would you also help me with some strategic documents? It's so hard to focus on them," he said sarcastically.

"Isn't that your responsibility? After all, you're the emperor," you teased him.

"Oh, but it's so boring," he replied with a frown.

When he jumped on the bed, next to you, you were startled but not by the shaking he caused. "Hmm, white, nice." He was lying on his side, propped up on his elbow, supporting his head, picked up a white verbena with his other hand.

"What are you doing? I have a wedding tomorrow and I need to get some sleep."

"Oh, right, that's why I came here." He said, pointing at you.

"What do you mean?”

Geta turned his head towards the door an yelled. “Come on in!”

A young man, who appeared to be a slave, entered the room and approached you, his movements slightly hesitant.

You looked at Geta in shock. "What is he doing here?"

But you were not alone, Decima and the other girl were also quite surprised.

“There won't be time before the wedding.” He said arrogantly.

“What are you talking about?”

“Undress.” Geta ordered him.

“What! No, don't!” You shouted at the slave. He grabbed the end of his tunic, unsure of what to do.

"I'm doing you a favour. Do you really want to ruin everything on your wedding night?"

"A favour?" Is that what you consider to be a favour?” You spoke a little louder than you intended to.

However, Geta didn't seem to care. "I'm not suggesting you sleep with him, but it might be helpful to study the man's body, especially the important parts." He pointed to the young man's pelvis.

You jumped up from the bed, feeling embarrassed, your cheeks burning.

"Thanks, but I don't think that's necessary."

Geta sat up in bed, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Are you sure? Look at you, your cheeks are all red. You'll certainly faint when you see the General Acacius naked."

His loud, ringing laugh was the final straw that broke your patience.

"I'm not a virgin!" you exclaimed.

Everyone in the room looked at you in surprise. You felt extremely embarrassed. You turned your back towards them, feeling ashamed to look at their faces.

Geta clapped his hands. "Well, well, well, my sister is not so innocent after all." He approached you. ”Caracalla will be disappointed though. He was thinking of giving you to the Temple of Vesta to become a virgin priestess." He laughed.

You turned towards him. “What?"

"To piss off the General, that's for sure. Anyway, you're not a virgin, so it's not an issue.”

"I don't think that's funny at all,” you said angrily.

"It seems there's more between you and the General than I thought.” Suddenly his face was serious. “Since you trusted him enough to dare to give yourself to him before marriage.”

You averted your gaze from him, not because you felt guilty, but because you didn't want to discuss such intimate matter with him.

He really didn't like your serious face, especially when you looked away from him. He leaned towards you with a playful smile. "But if you'd like to observe anyway, I mean, before the wedding, my body is in great shape. Not as muscular as his, but still."

'Can you please leave my room?' You pointed at the door.

'I understand your pre-wedding nerves and I forgive you, otherwise you can’t treat me like this,' he said smugly.

“You started it," you murmured.

He seemed relieved. “Have a good night, sister," he giggled, and walked out of the room, his slave following behind him.

Once they were gone, you threw yourself on your bed and sighed deeply. “I hate him.”

Decima and the slave girl were giggling.

Decima sat on the bed next to you. “I was thinking of talking to you about the wedding night, but I don't think I need to. I mean, since you're not,” she said, her voice trembling. She must be remembering painful memories from that house.

“Decima, I'm so sorry,” you voice cracked.

“No, you don't have to feel sorry for me, please. But can you tell me exactly how far you and the General have gone?" She gave you a suggestive look.

“Well, it happened once, you know.” Your cheeks were starting to flush again.

“So you're still inexperienced, my lady.”

The slave girl opened her eyes wide as you both turned your heads towards her. “I apologise, I was out of line, my lady.”

“How do you mean?”

“She's right,” Decima said. “There is so much for you to learn.”

So it turns out they were right – everything had happened so quickly that night. And you still dreaded the wedding night like a virgin. The last time you remember, he was stopping himself from going any further and was really patient and gentle with you. But you were still feeling like a virgin, not physically for sure, yet emotionally, novice to all the pleasures that the male and female body can experience. Thinking all of these, a new concern arose inside you, the inability to satisfy your husband's expectations as his wife. Like that's all you need, really.

For the rest of your last night in the palace, you were relaxing in the marble tub, breathing in the steamy air mixed with the floral aroma, while Decima's gentle fingers rub your legs. After a few embarrassing conversations, you savoured your last night as unmarried woman, since, from tomorrow you will be a married one.

As the memories of your time with Marcus came to mind, you wondered when you first fell in love with him. When did it happen? Was it when you first saw him and felt a peculiar attraction? Or was it the first time he touched you? Each time he was kind to you? Perhaps it was when he smiled warmly at you? Or the first time he kissed you? You smiled to yourself. It seemed a little silly to choose between your beautiful memories as if you were entering them in a competition.

You were certain from the first moment you saw Marcus, you loved him. And it grew more and more every day. You suddenly realised how much you had missed him. The last time you saw him, he was talking to Geta and Caracalla about marriage as if it were a strategic issue, and you just watched them. You hadn't even had a chance to talk properly or touch him.

Once you had finished your bath, you lay down on your bed. Your eyes lingering on your veil, which lay over the armchair next to the small table. As the sweet breeze from the window caressed your hair, you closed your eyes and dreamed of tomorrow.

Wedding day…

In the early hours of the morning, the streets of Rome were filled with a festive atmosphere. A group of people gathered around the Palatine Hill for the wedding of General Acacius and Princess Aurelia, eager to witness the momentous occasion. They patiently awaited the arrival of the carriage carrying the General to the wedding venue, hoping to catch a glimpse of him or the imperial family.

You opened your eyes slowly and became aware of a number of voices. The first thing you heard was a sound that could be described as shouting. This was followed by a hum, which seemed to be the sound of a crowd, the swallows flying past the window, and then a knock on the door. As you gradually sat up in bed and yawned, Decima entered the room, accompanied by three slave girls carrying your wedding dress.

“What's all that noise?” you asked Decima as you got out of bed. “Emperor Geta and Caracalla have had an argument I guess.” The slave girls put your dress on the bed.

You looked at her, surprised. “What's the argument about?”

“I'm not sure, but it's nothing to do with you or the wedding. Don't worry.”

“Then you must know why.” You said, eyeing the other girls, noticed that Geta's slave wasn't with them.

“I wasn't going to tell you not to worry about it on your wedding day, but I think Emperor Caracalla took an interest in Emperor Geta's favorite slave and it didn't go down well, so there was tension.” She was helping you undress.

“Is that why she didn't come with you?”

“Would you like me to ask her to come over?” she asked as she helped you into your long white silk tunic.

“No, I don't need to, but I hope she's all right.”

Decima rolled her eyes. “Perhaps you should stop worrying about someone else. Today is an important day for you.” She smiled softly. "You're the bride, remember?"

You giggled and nodded. She was right, but you couldn't help thinking that something might happen to the slave girl because of those two.

With the assistance of the slave girls, you were nearing the end of your dressing process when Geta arrived a short while later.

He clapped his hands. “Sister, you look gorgeous.” Then he crossed his arms and inhaled deeply. “General Acacius. That lucky bast-.”

“Brother." You silenced him and frowned.

He pursed his lips, suppressing his laughter.

“Why didn't your slave girl come to help me?”

“Because she was busy dressing me,” he pointed to the white toga with gold embroidery he was wearing.

She arrived at the door a moment later, holding your floral wedding crown.

“Look, here she is. Come, girl quick!” Geta beckoned her over. “General is about to arrive and it's time to put the veil on.”

“Your highness, first we must put on the belt,” said the slave girl.

Two of the other girls placed a thin belt around your waist, where the Heracles knot would be tied, and tied it one time. Geta's slave was combing your hair at the same while pinning a few to the sides with hairpins.

“Tie plenty of knots.” Geta grinned.

You rolled your eyes. “Don't be childish.”

“Your Majesty, if the groom can't untie the knot-“

“I know, it's bad luck,” he grinned again. He was giggling like a child as he tied a few knots in the belt around your waist.

“That's enough!” You pushed his hand away.

“Looks like the Glorious General Acacius will be trying to undo the knots until morning.” His laughter echoed around the room, and everyone could hardly keep themselves from laughing. You were almost one of them, biting your lip hard not to.

Before long, you heard footsteps and one of the slaves came into the room, out of breath. “Your Majesty, my lady, General Acacius’ carriage has arrived.”

You felt a sudden rush of butterflies in your stomach when you heard his name.

“Time for the veil,” Geta ordered the slaves. They draped the long saffron-coloured veil over your head. Decima wrapped the end of the long veil around your arm to keep it from getting tangled around your feet. You grabbed the part hanging from your arm with your hand. The yellowish colour of the veil made it a little difficult for you to see clearly. It was like looking at the sun at sunset, with everything bathed in a yellow glow. You bowed your head a little as Geta's slave placed the flower crown on your head.

“Wonderful!” Geta smiled and held out his arm to you. “Shall we?” You took a last glance at your room, hesitating for a moment before taking his arm. Decima looked a little sad, so you gestured for her to embrace you, the veil preventing you from moving freely. She came and hugged you, and you felt a little uneasy about leaving her there.

“You know, it's not too late. If you're unsure about... I’ll tell him.”

You gave Geta an aggressive look, despite the veil, you were sure he saw it.

Then you took his arm in a hurry. “We can go now.”

“Impatient, sister?”

You rolled your eyes and felt your long eyelashes brush against the fabric of the veil.

“After all, you’re old. Around twenty-six? I think you're fortunate to have found someone to marry.” He smirked.

"Ha-ha. How funny.”

As you left your chambers, you heard the murmurs of guests coming from the main courtyard. You walked out with short, confident steps. As you descended the stairs, you saw Caracalla standing there. Geta turned his head away from him. Were they sulking at each other?

Caracalla eyed you up and down. “I liked the tempting idea of keeping the General waiting, but the guests will gossip about us,” he chastised you with a laugh. When he held out his arm to you, you looked at him in surprise. “How dare you keep my arm waiting?”

Geta could joke, but Caracalla could do more than that. He could joke and at the same time manage to chastise and sarcasm. You took his arm, despite your initial hesitation. As you walked between the two of them, you looked at their faces out of the corner of your eye. It was a strange but nice feeling.

Soon you found yourself in the main courtyard where you were greeted with applause. It seemed that the guests recognized you from a distance thanks to your yellowish veil. Your eyes searched the crowd for Marcus and were momentarily distracted by the flowers hanging from the upper balcony. But you continued your search with determination.

“Where is mother?” Geta asked.

“I sent her away,” Caracalla snapped.

Geta looked at him angrily. “Are you mad?”

“Stay out of my business.”

“Stop it,” you hissed. “Don't ruin my wedding.”

Geta leaned towards him, whispering behind your back. “This isn't over, brother.”

Whatever had happened between them and wherever Julia had gone, you really didn't care right now. You were too focused on Marcus, who was waiting for you at the altar. He looked magnificent in his white toga virilis, (special toga worn by the groom). Your consciousness was clouded by the exhilaration you felt, and the voices of Geta and Caracalla sounded like grunts to you.

The only thing you really saw was Marcus' face, it filled your vision, for a moment you could think of nothing else. His eyes were a buttery, burning dark brown color, his stunning face was almost severe with the depth of his emotions. And then, when he meets your gaze, a breathtaking smile appears on his handsome face.

You felt like you might have fallen from the exhilaration and excitement if it hadn't been for your half-brothers holding your arms. Fortunately, the seemingly endless march was over and there you were, right next to Marcus, your General.

Flamen Dialis (the high priest of Jupiter) began his speech to preside over the wedding.

“My emperors, and honored guests, welcome to the wedding of General Marcus Justus Acacius and our Princess Septimia Aurelia Marciana.”

With soft applause from the guests, the slaves brought in a lamb adorned with flowers, its bleating echoing throughout the courtyard.

"Great Juno, Goddess of marriage and fertility, accept this gift of life from the great house of Emperor Publius Septimius Geta and Emperor Lucius Septimius Bassianus Caracalla.”

You chose not to look as the lamb was sacrificed, glad that the veil blocked your view. With a gesture from the high priest, Marcus held out his hand and asked Geta and Caracalla the usual question.

“My Emperors, do you promise to give me this woman, your sister, to be my wife?"

Geta and Caracalla glanced at each other, and then back at Marcus.

“I promise.”

“Promise.”

They vowed.

You didn't realize you were crying until your tears soaked the fabric of your veil. You blinked, trying to see Marcus' face more clearly. Geta and Caracalla placed your thin hand in Marcus' large, warm palm. As soon as you touched his skin, that familiar feeling blessed you. He stroked all your fingers with his thumb, as if to calm you. The High Priest seemed satisfied and turned to Marcus. "General Marcus Acacius, she is yours.” He announced.

Geta and Caracalla took a few steps back, you took a few steps towards Marcus. He gently lifted the veil from your face and placed it over your head. You smiled with joy as you could see his gorgeous face more clearly. It seemed unbelievable, but this amazing man was now yours and you were his. Marcus took your hand gently and placed the golden wedding band on your fourth finger. You playfully caressed the ring -with the symbol of clasped hands on it- with your pinky finger. Here's one more thing to get used to.

“Seal it with a kiss.” The high priest gave consent.

Marcus gently grasped your shoulders, bent his head towards you and kissed you tenderly, adoringly. In that moment, you forgot everything else: the time, the place, the guests, and the reason you were there. All you remembered was that he loved you, that he wanted you, and that you were his.

“Let's witness the contract!” The high priest raised his arms and the guests applauded.

Marcus and you both broke the kiss with great effort, you even heard someone clearing their throat. You were almost sure it was Geta. Marcus pulled himself back to look at you, seemed amused, a smirk appeared on his face. There were giggles and murmurs coming from the audience, but you refused to look away from his face to see them.

The sweet evening breeze wafted gently around the Domus Severiana, carrying with it the sounds of a small crowd enjoying a wedding banquet under the soft lights. Marcus was conversing with Octavius in the vicinity of the fountain, while you were sitting in the fancy seat that had been reserved for you and Marcus, next to the imperial seats of Geta and Caracalla. Your half-brothers barely spoke to each other during the banquet, their mother Julia was nowhere to be seen, but nobody seemed to care. Macrinus, however, was looking at you out of the corner of his eye when he was talking to Geta. When he finished talking to him, he came over and smiled at you.

"My lady, I would like to congratulate you."

"Thank you, sir."

"I wish you and General Acacius every happiness."

You looked away. "I see Sir Gaius was not able to attend."

A thoughtful expression crossed Macrinus' face as he realized the implication in your voice.

"He asked me to convey his sincerest congratulations to you.”

"I'm not sure, I don't think he's sincere.”

"I beg your pardon, my lady?" He leaned a little closer

"I wonder if you were aware of his plans?" You shook the glass in your hand, your eyes fixated on the movement of the wine in it.

Macrinus cast a quick glance at his fellow emperors and leaned towards you.

“Can you please explain how you mean?”

“He told me a little about the plan for the throne, almost in a threatening tone,” you replied. Then you looked at him in the eye. ‘You didn't know?’

Marcus saw you two looking at each other with serious faces, so he frowned and ended his conversation with Octavius. Macrinus' face was hard to read. Whatever he was feeling, he was hiding it well. You were determined to solve him though.

"Whatever Sir Gaius has said, my lady, I can have no such thoughts, I am at the service of your brothers, and of you too, surely.”

“There is no need for that, Sir Macrinus.” You were startled by Marcus's harsh voice. He stepped between the two of you, protectively, right in front of you, his shadow falling across your face.

“As her husband, I am the one who must look after my wife, Lady Aurelia, and I am grateful for your services thus far.” Marcus spoke with a tone that brooked no argument.

Macrinus smiled. “Of course, General Acacius, congratulations again, now, if you excuse me.” He turned and strode to the other side of the hall.

When Marcus turned back to you, he looked concerned. He sat down beside you and leaned in. “Did he say something to bother you?”

You shook your head. “No, he just congratulated me.”

Marcus raised an eyebrow.

“It's nothing to worry about, really,” you smiled at him.

He put his arm around you, "We'll talk about this later." His free hand went straight for the food on the table. “Did you eat enough?” He stuffed a grape into your mouth. “You'll need your strength for tonight.”

You almost choked on the grape as he smiled crookedly.

Geta's loud laughter startled you. When you looked at him, his favourite slave was feeding him some food too. Caracalla was also very busy romantically with his own slave. When you turned to Marcus, he was staring at you under his eyebrows. There was desire in those brown eyes that melted like butter and made your throat go dry.

Then Marcus's face turned serious as their laughter continued. He turned his head and looked at your emperor half-brothers. “I think that's enough of the banquet.” He looked back at you with a soft expression this time. “Is my beautiful bride ready to go to her husband's house?” He gripped your hand tightly.

'Husband' word made you giggle. “I am very ready, General.”

He smiled and kissed the top of your hand then stood up, pulling you with him.

“It seems our happy couple have decided to take their leave,” Geta noticed you two.

“With your permission, your highness,” Marcus nodded.

The slow music picked up to match the pace of the ceremony, which marked the bride's departure to her new home. In keeping with tradition, Marcus grabbed you by the legs, threw you over his shoulder, and ran across the courtyard towards the gate, carrying you outside. The guests watched this cheerful moment with laughter and applause.

While Marcus was carrying you over his shoulder, you tried to look around, but all you could see was your veil sweeping the floor. As he stepped out of the main gate, you were met with a surprise: applause and the sound of your own name being called. Marcus set you down. The crowd chanted both your names. They threw you rose petals, and you smiled and greeted them. The guests inside, Geta and Caracalla, had followed you, also greeted them. One of the slaves handed Geta a bowl full of red rose petals, which he proceeded to shower over your head. His earlier mood had been far more cheerful, but now he was serious. It was as if he was sad, but it was hard to be sure. Caracalla folded his arms, not bothering to touch the rose petals. You were taken off guard when Geta suddenly hugged you. You felt Marcus tense next to you. Geta looked at Marcus with an air of command. “Take good care of my sister, Acacius. Or there will be consequences.”

It was common knowledge that he was an emperor who liked to issue threats and give orders, and Marcus was aware of this, but no one was used to seeing him do it to protect someone else. It was clear that there had always been tension between them, but there was something different in the way they looked at each other, something you could hardly make sense of.

Marcus grabbed your hand and looked at Geta with a sharp gaze. “Lady Aurelia is now my wife and under my care, she will be well looked after, you can be sure of that, your highness.”

Geta pursed his lips as if thinking about something. “Well then, you can go,’ he said then, pointing to the carriage.

“Be gentle with her, won't you?” Caracalla laughed hard.

Of course, shameless jokes were part of the tradition and your brothers were the experts at it.

Geta smirked. “Good luck,” he said, gesturing with his hands to his own waist, alluding to the belt around yours.

You rolled your eyes at him and got into the carriage with Marcus's help. He lifted your veil as you got in and helped you to sit down. He called over Octavius and had a quick word with him. You were curious about what they were talking about, but you couldn't hear it clearly over the music and the crowd. When Octavius left, he came into the carriage and sat down beside you. He ordered the coachman to get the horses moving.

As the carriage moved, he held your hand and placed it in his. He traced the outline of the ring on your finger with his thumb. Then he lifted your hand and kissed each finger. You heard another carriage moving just behind yours. You turned your head and lifted the curtain with your free hand to look out.

“Another carriage?”

“I believe it's an imperial dowry,” he said sarcastically.

You looked at him, confused.

“Your brothers are sending you lots of clothes and jewellery,” he explained.

“Must be Geta.” You thought so.

“They have no boundaries when it comes to spending coins.”

You chose to remain silent because he was right.

“Still,” he grasped your chin gently and turned your face towards him. “My beautiful wife deserves it all.”

Before you could react, he kissed you passionately. His arms wrapped around your waist, and you felt his impatience. You inhaled his masculine scent and felt a moistness between your legs. Gods, why does this road never seem to end? You thought.

Villa…

By the time the two carriages drew close to the General's villa, the sun had finished its work for the day and was beginning to set. As he left, the sky darkened, and the moon rose soon after. The moon was bright and illuminated the night, almost as bright as the sun, especially tonight.

When the carriage finally arrived, Marcus stepped down and offered you his hand. You took his hand with a smile, but you had forgotten the veil you had wrapped around your arm and you stumbled on the steps. Marcus wrapped his arms around you and put you down effortlessly. Like you were a little girl.

Octavius had already got out of the other carriage and came over to greet you. You turned your head to look at the other carriage. You were astounded to see Decima standing there, smiling.

“But how?” You looked at her in surprise.

"Your wedding present, part of your dowry." Marcus explained. “I asked Emperor Geta to give her to your service, and he agreed.”

“Marcus, I don't know what to say. I'm so grateful.”

He smiled in response, then took your hand and led you to the courtyard entrance of the villa. “Now we have to complete the ceremony. Are you ready?”

The ritual of entering your new home was a Roman custom that was not very common in Egypt. As a result, you were not familiar with this part of the ceremony, yet Geta's slave had informed you of a few details.

“Please guide me.”

He gave a nod. When you got to the door, all the General's slaves were waiting for you there. Two slaves were holding torches at the front. As you passed through, you noticed Norell and Tullia and wanted to give them a hug, but they were looking at you a little solemnly. Right, the ritual wasn't over yet. They both lifted you up and carried you over the threshold. You walked to the centre of the courtyard and realised how much you missed this place. It looked a little different than usual with the lighting and decorations, but you were home.

Marcus stood right in front of you. Norell handed him lucerna (an oil lamp), Tullia a jug with water in it, the symbol of life. You took them from his hands carefully and, with his gesture, you raised them up for all to see. The slaves applauded softly, and you smiled. Then Norell and Tullia took them back from you. Marcus approached you and whispered, 'You know what to say here, don't you?’

You gave a little nod. It was a sentence you'd run through in your mind a few times already.

“Ubi tu Marcus ego Marca, where you are Marcus, I am Marca.”

He responded “Ubi tu Marca, ego Marcus, where you are Marca, I am Marcus.”

And the contract was fully signed, you were officially his wife.

“Welcome home, my wife Aurelia,” he said with a warm smile.

It was like music to your ears to hear your own name come out of his mouth with the word ‘wife’.

"Welcome, Domina,” the slaves greeted you.

You smiled at them, and as Norell smiled back at you, you wanted to go over to talk to her, but Marcus' expression almost changed with the emotions he was feeling. He grabbed your hand and pulled you to the stairs leading to his room, or rather your room now. You could feel his impatience in the way he touched you. Your heart thudded audibly against your ribs, and your breath seemed to get stuck in your throat.

He closed the door firmly behind you two. You could feel his eyes on you, but you refused to look at him. What was this sudden nervousness all about? You looked at his bed and saw the rose petals that had been sprinkled on it. Then, he rushed forward to snatch you into his arms, taking your breath away. You giggled, “Did you miss me?”

What a silly question, Marcus thought.

"Yes," he growled, and pulled you hard against him. "I can't think of nothing but you. Dreaming this moment was the only thing that kept me patient." Marcus's strong arms were wrapped around your waist, pressing himself against you. When he felt you tense under your dress, he reacted with a slight frown.

“Why are you so tense? You made it through the first time well.” He brushed his lips against yours. “If I remember correctly, you liked my kiss?” His kiss was forceful, deep, overwhelming. He had got that wrong, he realized dazedly. He was the one who liked your kiss. More than liked. He loved it. He was radiating a strange intensity today. You could feel it under his lips; he was screaming his longing to you through them.

He slid his hand to your thigh. “I remember you liked my touch too,” now he was touching you where you wanted him most. You bit your lip. He grinned as he felt the moisture forming beneath the fabric. “I see you want me, but I want to know what makes you nervous.”

You swallowed hard, unsure of how to tell him how you felt.

“Are you afraid of me?” His voice was so soft.

You met his eyes. “No Marcus, I'm - I'm afraid what if I cannot satisfy you or please you as your wife.”

Marcus's smile was broad, cheerful. You blinked your eyes as you looked at him in confusion

“You will learn, my love.”

He ran his fingers up your arms, caressing your shoulders, your collarbone, your chin, “We’ll both be learning each other’s likes,” then took your face in his hands, "Each time,” he smirked, his gaze dropping to your lips. He kissed your lips softly. His mouth was hot and sweet on your own.

Marcus broke the kiss to remove the veil from your head. It was getting in the way of his arms around you and feeling your skin. He placed it on the edge of the bed, a little hastily. When he came back, he took your hands and put them on his shoulders, just above the shawl on his white toga.“Will you do as my wife?”

“Sure.” You took hold of Marcus's plain white shawl and slowly removed it from his shoulder, then waist. He now wears only his plain white tunic. You placed it on the bed neatly. You gasped as his hands wrapped around you from behind. He kissed the nape of your neck gently but needily.

“Turn around to look at me.”

You did as he said. His hands went to your belt, his smile fading as he realised the knots. It was exactly the reaction you thought he'd have.

“Why did you tie so many knots?”

“Apologies.” You bit your lower lip.

"He did this, didn't he?" He narrowed his eyes. He grunted when he saw the answer in your expression. "He always manages to annoy me.”

Marcus untied one of the knots patiently, but there seemed to be more. While he was untying it, your eyes drifted across the room to Marcus' leather armour. Next to it was his sword and then you noticed the item that you thought might be useful. Marcus' pugio (a dagger used by Roman soldiers as a sidearm).

“This belt represents virginity, right?”

Marcus answered without looking at you, determined to untie the knots. “Yes?” Suddenly, he stopped and looked up. He met your gaze, following the path of your eyes. He turned his head in that direction.

“So I'm not a virgin after all. I mean…"

He laughed when he realised the implication in your voice. “I'm all ears.”

“Can't you just cut it off?”

“Gods must have blessed me with an intelligent wife.”

He took his pugio, unsheathed it and came over to you. “Stay still.”

You nodded and swallowed, wondering why this turned you on so much. Marcus grabbed your endlessly knotted belt with one hand and pulled, almost staggering you. With the other hand, holding his pugio, he cut your belt in one swift motion. You were startled when you felt the sharp surface of the dagger just slightly under the fabric. But it was over in a flash.

Marcus threw the belt on the floor. "There's nothing holding us back now.” He hurriedly put the pugio back in its sheath. And in the blink of an eye, you were in his arms again. You trembled with ecstasy in the dress which freed from the tightness provided by the belt. Marcus's impatient hands grasped the fabric of the dress at your shoulders, perhaps a little roughly, and skilfully undressed you. The dress fell to the floor, pooling around your feet.

“Undress me,” he demanded. Unlike his impatient hands, yours were slow, yet eager. You grasped the hem of Marcus' tunic in your clumsy hands, lifted it up and pulled it over his head, allowing it to fall to the floor.

As you looked at his bare chest, your eyes drifted to where he was last injured, and you looked at him as you stroked it with your hand. "It's not healed yet. I'll have to make some ointment.”

He grabbed you around the waist and pulled you hard against him.

“Do that later, now focus on the other thing I need you to heal.”

You looked away, and before you could turn your chin, he grabbed it in his hand.

“Wrap your arms around me,” he commanded.

You obey, feeling him between your thighs, growing, making you swallow loudly.

“Run your fingers through my hair,” he said, looking into your eyes. You already liked touching his hair so much, was he reading your mind? Marcus's breathing grew heavier as you ran your fingers through his curly, dark, partly gray hair. He grabbed your hips, lifting you slightly onto his lap. His strength was a huge turn on for you, feeling the way he was easily able to pick you up. Walking with your legs wrapped around his waist he carries you there and lifting you off of him. He laid you down on the bed carefully and then watched you. You felt the soft touch of rose petals against your skin yet didn’t care. You literally felt his eyes roaming over, from you hips up to your waist up to your breasts, and your cheeks surely turned red than they already were. But you didn't feel exposed. In a way it felt liberating to let him see you because you didn't have the urge to hide yourself from him anymore. The eager expression on his face made you feel beautiful and wanted. And then he kissed your neck, which felt even better, and you turned your head to the side to offer him more skin to kiss. He swirled his tongue on the skin behind your ear, causing you to moan. He continued working across your neck with his tongue, then pecked your earlobe and then moved to your mouth. He crushed his lips to yours. He felt your hands as you press against his back, clasping him to yourself. You ran your hands over his broad shoulders as he kissing you with unbridled passion, his lips moving over yours with a hunger you had never experienced before. Marcus was already healed when he felt your fingers caressing his wounds. The feel of your bare skin against his is beyond compare. It is absolutely glorious.

The moment he forcefully parts both of your legs with his knee, you look up at him wide-eyed. His face is intense, and you know soon he’ll take you. You don’t want him to stop, but can’t help to tense. You fight against his hold but it is as though you're fighting a marble statue.

Marcus looks down at you sternly. His voice becomes commanding.

“Aurelia, if you could just relax, we've done it before, this time it won't hurt,” He whispers into your ear. You did what he said and let him take you. Your immobile under his control, extremely turned on.

“I wish to please you,” he says, his hot breath caresses you belly. He slowly runs his hand downwards, reaching that intimate, soaked place between your legs that he has touched before. A satisfied groan builds in his throat. “Hmm. So responsive.”

A deft finger circles a sensitive spot gently and you bit your lip hard, feels good. You feel the need to writhe in response, but his weight is holding you down, unyielding.

He enters you with two fingers and his hand is so big that each time his finger is in, his palm presses your most sensitive spot. He curls his finger, massaging another extremely sensitive spot inside you. And finally, he puts his mouth close to that area and touches it with his tongue, while he caresses your breasts with both hands then pushing his tongue back in against your clit, then sucks, consuming you, relentlessly. You can’t suppress your whimper. And groaning loudly. He looks up at you. He was determined to watch you come and the closer you got to climax the heavier your breathing became.

"Marcus," you moaned again. “P-please.”

He smirked watched your face contort and kept at it, licking and sucking, devouring you while your legs started to shake beneath you. Soon you reached the climax and felt as if you had ascended to the sky. Marcus kissed you repeatedly around your belly, proud of the feeling he had caused. He had a smile of triumph on his face, but now his body had become more impatient.

“Now wrap your legs around me,” he was stroking your legs. You did as he said, already craving him more than you ever wanted him, your body squirming to be his. In a swift movement he grabs your hips and pulls you down and his full length is inside you. You moan and your breath hits against his chest. Your nails dig into the back of his neck, breathing harshly. You didn't expect it to happen so quickly, but this time it didn't hurt at all, maybe because it was too wet, dripping wet.

You weren’t with him for this part, but he was acutely aware of you every shaky breath. Somehow, despite his pleasure, he found himself moderating his thrusts without too much effort. True, he had to squeeze his eyes shut to concentrate. The feel of you around him was like nothing else. It was strange how aware he felt of the clench of your fingers at his back as he luxuriated in the tight, silky clasp of you. How often he felt compelled to press his lips to yours.

When he felt his brow begin to bead with sweat, he groaned and told himself his exertions had gone on long enough. He needed to withdraw. You don’t need to, a voice whispered in his head that sounded very like his own. She’s your wife, yours. He looked at your face to confirm, determined not to lose his self-control and cause you pain. Fortunately, he saw that you were far from suffering. He smiled confidently, thinking how beautiful you looked right now. He could see it in your face, so when he hardened his movements a little, he realized that you were moaning with pleasure. A smile of triumph spread across Marcus' face as you screamed his name over and over. His thrusts are becoming quicker now, but still not too quickly, and you know you will climax simultaneously.

You close your eyes and moan as you feel yourself begin the ascent to your orgasm. He is moaning as well, then he pushes himself as deeply into you as he can, triggering his climax. As you feel him throb inside you, filling you completely with his seed, you come hard, your moan becomes a howl, and Marcus presses his mouth to yours, causing your body to twist into lovely shivers.

He slides his tongue into your mouth and strokes yours with his, extending both your climaxes. Moaning into each other's mouths, you don't want this feeling to end, and you're certain he feels the same. As you ease down from your respective highs, Marcus breaks your kiss and looks admiringly into your half-closed eyes and smiles through heavy breathing.

"I can't believe how stunning, amazing you are," he whispered, running his fingers through your hair. “I love you Aurelia, my beautiful wife.”

You smiled at his kind words.

“I love you too, Marcus.”

Both of you naked in our post-coital bliss, a military man buried inside you, the General, now your husband. You think it was the most romantic wedding night you could imagine. Not because he's so handsome and charming despite his age. But because he's your Marcus, he's perfect.

When he finally pulls out, it hurts, but only emotionally. You already miss the fiery connection between your bodies. He kisses you again and pulls you against his chest, wrapping his arm around you, as if he's trying to stop you from running away. You smile, he must have remembered what you did last time. He places his chin on the top of your head, your nose close enough to touch his neck, your nose caressing his jugular vein.

The warm breeze whispers through the window, blowing out the oil lamp and allowing the bright moonlight to bathe your naked bodies in its glow. Once the sounds of love have ceased, you find yourself surrounded by the gentle chirping of crickets, the soft howl of an owl, and the calming rhythm of Marcus' breathing. After a while, your eyelids gently close, and you drift off to sleep, caged and imprisoned by his arms.

The Dream...

The moonlight was all you could see, blocking out everything else. The soft wind caresses your skin, causing you to shiver, but you are not cold. You ask yourself why you are shivering. Your feet, your hands – where were they? Everything was blurred. You opened and closed your eyes, your heart racing in your chest. But why? You open and close your eyes once more. Your hands are there, but your feet are off the ground. You open and close your eyes once more. This time, the light dims, and you can see around you. You are relieved. You thought you were blind a moment ago.

But the relief doesn't last long because you remember where you are. You were here before. This meadow, this wind, this sky. "Save him." And that chilling whisper. You flinch and gasp as the owner of the voice suddenly appears. The goddess appears in front of you, her white skin glimmering like diamonds. This time, she doesn't resemble you. She draws closer, and when you recognize her face, you fall to your knees. This time, she allows you to feel the grass and flowers. Is it because she pity you?

'Mother?' your voice trembles. You've never seen her before, only her statue, in the tomb in the Domus Severiana. She is beautiful, in a way that is difficult to describe.

'Save him,' the same tone, with a hint of urgency and a touch of pleading.

You get up on your knees and look at her, ‘I did it, Mother, I saved him.’

Unsatisfied with your answer, she turns away, strolling in a circle among the grass. You're certain she'll pick another herb to give to you like she did last time. But no, she grabbed something from the grass, and when she lifted it up you jumped backwards for your dear life.

‘Don't be afraid, child,’ she whispered.

The viper she held in her hand was torn into many pieces and spread out through the grass, then into the soil. What? Why? How? You felt like you were losing your mind. 'He will need you, Rome will need you,’ she whispered again, ringing, echoing in your ears. Rome? Him? This overwhelming, all-consuming dream didn't allow you to speak or think clearly. He was your sole focus, and you made the conscious decision to ask questions for him, even if it meant losing your mind.

'Save him from what, mother? Please…” your voice cracked, you were panting, heavily breathing.

Without batting an eyelash, she grabbed your hands and lifted you up on your feet. Her eyes were fixed on yours, as if she could read your mind.

"You already know.” Her voice sharp.

This time, she turned around, and her hair danced in the warm wind. You shook your head in defiance, demanding to know more. She reads your mind again. "Think, Aurelia."

In a gust of wind, the grass and flowers on the ground were uprooted, plucked, and gathered around your mother's silhouette. It was incredible, overwhelming, and it consumed all of your senses. You rushed towards her, but she had already disappeared among them as if caught in a whirlwind. Your feet were no longer on the meadow with green grass and flowers. Instead, you were on a dirt field, and you felt abandoned. No more moonlight, no more wind, only dirt ground. No more her. With her voice echoing in your ears for the last time, crushing your soul, blowing your mind last time, your dream was about to end.

'Think.'

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i-am-a-bad-influence-writes · 2 months ago

Text

P*rn ☆

Chapter 4, Raw, next question

Masterlist

Word count: 1.8 k

Sylus x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have been following a spicy content creator by the name of Red Crow for some time now. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what would happen when he moves into the apartment next door.

Author's note: Here we go babes! I hope ya'll like it. I am going to be very busy this weekend and part of next week, so I'll leave ya'll with this for the upcoming few days. Lots of love <3

Warning! This story is meant for mature audiences. It contains sex, swear words, porn, smoking, intimate piercings, mentions of drugs, alcohol, and other mature themes. Do not engage if you are under 18.

Mature content under the cut.

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It's not like you to forget about watching a Red Crow video, but it totally slipped your mind after Tara started suggesting different single guys to you. Seems like she's known Sylus for a while and isn't stoked about the idea of you liking him. For some reason, that gets you going even more.

Sure, could be that he is a disturbed individual, but you figure it has more to do with his cold demeanor. It almost sounded like she was talking you out of talking to him again after her offer to give him your number. Almost like she suddenly remembered something. Could it be that she also knows about what he does? If that's the case, she's less innocent that you thought she was.

Either way, she kept you busy until there was a knock at the door and you realized it was already 2 am. No wonder you had been getting sleepy. 'I'll get it,' you offer, you brain fried once more but this time the sleepiness is to blame. Tara giggles in response.

You expected Kieran to come knocking so that Tara could drive him home. Instead, Sylus leans over you once more when you open the door, one hand on the top of the doorframe the other in his pocket. He's incredibly close, closer than one normally is when knocking on someone's door. Is he doing this on purpose?

The smell of whiskey and cigarettes hang around him like a cloud, mixing in with his cologne to create the most intoxicating smell you've ever smelled. His shirt is a little more unbuttoned than it was before and there's a slight pink tint to his cheeks. You figure he's drunk or close to drunk.

But then he speaks, and he sounds stone cold sober: 'Hey, can you tell Tara Kieran is sleeping over. He is in no state to move.'

'What happened to “taking it easy”,' Tara shouts from the couch. Sylus stands up a little straighter, removing his hand from the doorframe, and looking over top of me to Tara on the couch. He grins slyly.

'Nothing we haven't done before.' She hops off the couch and rushes over, looking slightly agitated.

'Sylus, that can refer anywhere from a gross shot to LSD,' she snaps at him. He leans down over her like he just had with me. Her eyes widen ever so slightly, and it almost looks like her hair is puffing up like an angry cat. Suddenly, you understand why she might've wanted to curb your interest in Sylus but the teasing tone that slips from his lips so easily gets you fucking going. Without really noticing it, you bite your lip for no more than a second while your thighs rub together.

He notices though. His eyes flicker over to you for just a second and his grin widens ever so slightly. 'No drugs. I quit that stuff. He's just very drunk.' Tara groans. 'You can check if you want.'

'I will,' she snaps as she pushes past the two of you and quickly disappears into Sylus’ apartment.

And suddenly, you are harshly reminded what happened the last time you and Sylus were alone. Reminded of that video that you still haven't fully watched. The first few seconds are engraved in your memory. Sylus, completely dressed with his hand slowly rubbing over the tent in his pants, low groans leaving his lips.

When you look up at him again, you swear he knows exactly what's going on in your mind. There's that sly grin on his lips again. 'Having a fun night?'

'Oh, fuck you,' you groan, and feel yourself puff up like Tara had as you cross your arms with an annoyed expression on your face. If he knows, you might as well cuss him out for it. He deserves as much, and he seems to like it as a rich laugh slips from his lips.

He leans even closer, still towering over you with his eyes focused on yours. You feel your cheeks and ears heat up like you've just shoved your head against a space heather. 'You know who I am,' he states. You can almost feel your attitude melt like snow thrown on a fire as you nod.

'You know what I do,' his voice is gravely, low, seductive. He's enjoying this. You nod again. No more snow, only fire. Fire in your loins and in your fucking ovaries. You are going to burst. He moves in even closer.

'Use your words, sweetie.' One of his two signature pet names for his audience. Your panties are soaked, your blood is boiling, and your attitude is back. Because, if he keeps this going, you two will be down and dirty right here in your doorway. Ain't no way you're letting Tara see you in that state.

'Back the fuck up before I jump your bones.' Maybe you should've just said the first part. His confidence wafers for a second before he realizes what you mean. He’s even closer now, his lips next to your ear, voice barely above a whisper.

'Did you like what you did to me?'

'Kieran is passed out,' Tara loudly announces before peaking her head around the corner. Before she can, Sylus moves back and crosses his arms, looking like he's bored out of his mind while you are bright red in the face. 'Sylus, help me get him in the car. We have plans tomorrow.'

'Yes ma’am.'

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3 am. The world outside is quiet, just like Sylus likes it. Kieran was a real pain to get in the car but at least he gets to listen to some records on his own now. Luke had left long before but Kieran always sticks. Sylus can only hope he'll be awake enough to walk into Tara's apartment when they get there.

Today had been interesting to say the least. He hasn't been this risky in a long time, teasing someone who clearly knows who he is. Could be a very awkward situation in the future if she ever grows over her lust for him, but for now he's fine. This could be a fun little game between the two of them. No one else needs to know, but what if he just films his content after he's seen her. Like how he did today.

Short conversation, make a video wearing what she saw him in, turn her on so he can listen to her sweet little moans pierce through the thin walls. He does need to keep his schedule though, otherwise it'd be too suspicious. On the other hand, no one would complain about an extra video occasionally.

The soft thud of the needle bumping off his record pulls Sylus out of his trance. The room is suddenly awfully silent. Then, he hears it.

The softest of whimpers.

He turns off the record player and walks into his room curiously. The sound is coming from the air extractor fan in the bathroom, just as it had this afternoon. The shower isn't running and your noises sound farther away, so it's possible that you're in your bedroom with the bathroom door open.

"Is she doing this on purpose," Sylus questions as he stands in the middle of his bathroom, listening to the sounds you make while his dick starts to strain against his pants. "Would she hear it if I did the same thing?"

His curiosity quickly gets the better of him. Just for good measure, he quickly sets up his phone to record on top of the toilet reservoir and presses record. Then, he moves to lean against the sink cabinet, his head thrown back as he rubs over the fabric of his pants, just as he had this afternoon.

He hears a particularly lewd moan and prays to the gods above his phone picked the sound up. His hand moves to his zipper and he undoes himself skillfully and fast. He takes his dick out of his boxers, not bothering to take his pants off. It's hard as a fucking rock and already leaking with just those little sounds.

"What is this woman doing to me?"

Lazily, he starts stroking his dick. Soft groans and moans slipping from his lips, suppressed in an attempt to still hear you through the vents. Then the prettiest picture slips into his mind.

You, laying on your back in his bed, naked. Heels planted on his mattress, legs spread, hands lazily pulling on the hair on the back of his head. That beautiful blush on your cheeks, looking desperate and longing for release while he drives his length into you. The little sounds you make, so much louder when he's this close, so much more beautiful. Your eyes focused on him and only him.

His hand starts moving faster, chocking his dick ever so slightly while his other hand grips the sink, knuckles turning white. An animalistic sound leaves his throat, a sound he's never made before. Something like a chocked growl.

God, that image. He'd lean in closer, wrap his arms around your body to pull you closer, his lips exploring the expanse of your neck and shoulders while your nails leave trails on his back. One of his hands would leave your body, move to your little bud of nerves to help you reach ecstasy.

Another growl leaves his throat, louder this time. He's getting so close after so little time. Is this really all because of you? Because some pretty girl showed interest in him? He's not sure, but the picture in his mind keeps getting more and more realistic. His eyes screw closed, head leaning forward now, his breathing heavy.

He'd sit down on his heels, pull you onto his lap and hold you close to his chest, as close as humanly possible, while picking up the pace and drilling into you. Your pretty little moans would get louder, would morph into his name so beautifully strewn out on your tongue, barely recognizable to anyone but him. And you'd bite his collarbone. The pain and pleasure of the whole thing tipping him over the edge, his hands bruising your skin, serving you the same mixture to help you fall into the abyss with him.

Hot ropes of cum lay on the tiles in front of Sylus while he tries to catch his breath. He doesn't hear your voice anymore, so you must be done as well.

"What the hell just happened?"

He steadies himself and grabs his phone from the toilet reservoir, stopping the recording. Before he can throw the thing to the side again, he gets a notification on his video from this afternoon. When he opens it, the name and profile picture look awfully familiar. It's you, there's no denying it. His lips pull into a grin when he reads your comment.

"Raw, next question."

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ghouljams · 6 days ago

Text

Bath [Chapter 7]

<- Prev part

Tags: Viking au, Viking!Soap, highlander!reader, healer!reader, Soap x f!reader, slow burn, kidnapping(sort of), forced undressing, noncon touching, bathing Summary: Mactavish, his kindness knowing no boundaries, treats you to a bath as the introduction to your new home. You begin plotting his downfall. A reasonable response considering your circumstances.

Despite Mactavish’s protests you’re both made to help with unloading the ship. Your labor is forcibly lent to the effort, so you take pleasure in slowing it down. Which leaves the sun starting to drift below the horizon by the time a warm bowl of stew is pressed into your hands as payment for your efforts.

It’s well into the evening before you ever finish tramping up the short hill that Mactavish’s house sits atop. You brace yourself for the worst as he opens the door and ushers you inside. Blood and gore splattered about, bones littering the floor, trophies from his hunts, everything that will turn your stomach more than it’s already turnt. You’re half flinched when you step inside.

Mactavish’s house is quaint, but clean in spite of the layer of dust that seems to have gathered in his absence. The wood beams and daub over stone hold up the roof as well as anything else could, and there’s a small opening near the back you assume leads to a bedroom. There’s a table, chairs, a fireplace, and a wash bin with dishes stacked to the side. It smells the same way all houses that have been left for weeks at a time do, it makes you sneeze and Mactavish mutters an apology as he shuts the door behind you. The sparse living quarters speak to a man that lives on the sea. You wonder how long it will be until you’re sleeping on the ship again.

“Outhouse is in back,” Mactavish tells you when he sees you looking around. He runs a hand over the wood holding the door, fingers notching in the carvings there. “Built it myself,” He continues, “don’t usually have guests.”

“Hopefully you won’t have to entertain me long.” You wander to the fireplace discarding your- his fur cloak on a nearby chair. You crouch down in front of the stone to start building a fire. You’re too much your mother’s daughter, too much a helper to survive. Mactavish follows to crouch beside you, tips his head to watch you.

“Want me to get some wood, Vaenn?” He asks as you glance around, “It’s just beside the house, need tae get the tub down anyway.”

You do your best to ignore him and sweep away the ashes littering the fireplace with the short handled broom that had been sitting beside it. The thought of a tub makes your shoulders tense. The idea of this man undressing around you makes your heart hammer in your chest. As if you were family just because you shared a tongue. How can he even think such things?

Mactavish stares at you a long moment before he stands and turns towards the door. You keep your eyes on the fireplace, your fingers trembling just on the edge of creation as you grasp for straws. For anything to say to tear him down, to rebuke the idea that you need any of his help. The door closes behind him, thunderous in the silence. Your tongue is getting slow as it adjusts to the viking’s rough speech.

Or perhaps silence is the best course of action. Give him nothing and hope that in turn he expects nothing. No, you know yourself too well, you’ve always had trouble holding your tongue when anger seizes it. If ever there was a time to let yourself spit and swear it’s now. Laid in the belly of the beast with nothing to cut your way out.

Although that’s not entirely true. Your eyes catch metal with every turn they take around the small house. There’s the knife in your pack. There’s two more stuck near the hearth. You see an ax hanging over the door, an iron pot, wooden furniture, and a ladder. Perhaps more weapons hidden among the rafters. You glance up to survey what’s been stashed under the roof. Spare furniture and furs, dried and smoked meat, cloth bags held haphazardly in nets. And a tub.

You frown at the damned thing and hope it springs a leak. Wooden slats fitted together with an iron band around them, the wax on it shining dully in the house’s low light. Your skin itches with grime, smoke and blood stain your skirts, and your head still hammers with the persistent rocking of the long boat. It’s a miserable fate to be condemned to, as if your kidnapping wasn’t punishment enough now you must treat your kidnappers.

You eye the axe over the door again.

No. You refuse to let such violent thoughts consume you. You will not sit and let the vikings’ warring become your own, as much as your struggles have gotten you nowhere, you aren’t out of options yet.

You eye the tub that hangs in its netted cage from the rafters. Perhaps if your struggling won’t help you, your compliance will. Never let it be said that you didn’t explore every means of escape except the easiest. Though you don’t see how it could be easy. The mere idea of compliance revolts you, and your stomach churns unpleasantly at the thought of giving any of the men --Mactavish especially-- any ideas that you’re a willing captive. But sacrifices must be made if you’re to get your freedom.

There are women and children here that need care, you can focus your attention on them. That’s simple enough, and when you’re ripped again from your comfort to aid the vikings on their raids, you’ll- you’ll-

You’ll tie yourself to whichever viking seems easiest to sway. Eventually guard will be loosened enough for you to make your escape. Though you’re loath to think what that swaying may entail.

You think of the women in your village, how they’d spoken about men’s weakness to women, to their own instincts. You think of the way Mactavish draws himself to you, tied already with knots your nails are bloody trying to unravel.

You wonder if this is how he finds his thrill, catching unwilling prey and toying with it until it breaks. Well, not you.

Your throat tightens at the swing of the tub, a trick of your eye you’re sure. Yet it does swing, in your mind, it hangs over you like the sword of damocles, poised to bring about your ruin with one swift cut. It has to be Mactavish. You won’t be able to master the vikings’ tongue fast enough to try and win over any others. You don’t even know the others, save for Gaz and the captain. No, Mactavish is the most logical choice. He knows your tongue, played witness to your grief (to your village’s execution), he holds the most guilt. He has it coming.

The door opens and you’re shunted from your thoughts. Your head turns to watch Mactavish set wood by the armful inside the door, your stomach squirms when he looks up at you with a smile. You tell yourself that it’s hatred, loathing, revulsion.

“Should be enough for a fire,” He tells you, shutting the door tight behind him after the last load. You nod. Your mind is made up, but your tongue struggles to follow it. You don’t know what to say, how to act, you’re not versed in anything but your herbs and remedies. Even with those your knowledge is lacking and uncreative. The idea of being sweet to this man makes your stomach turn, and you’re sure he wouldn’t believe it anyway.

You go to pick up the wood, work will take your mind off your planning, and Mactavish catches your arm.

“Go fetch water,” He orders, “I’ll build the fire and get the tub down.”

“Me?” You ask, somehow the idea of being let out on your own for something as simple as a chore had not occurred to you. Perhaps your freedom will come sooner than expected, any other plans can be abandoned in favor of your first one: run.

Mactavish must know the glint in your eye too well, or else must sense some other change in your demeanor because his smile is mean and his eyes are hard when he reminds you,

“You won’t get far if you run, they’ll just bring you back here.” He says it like he wouldn’t be part of the hunt. “They,” as if the other vikings act independent of him. “Vaenn,” you remind yourself, prey. Why wouldn’t the dogs chase down a lone deer, sick with grief and wandered too far from her herd? You can practically feel them nipping at your heels already. You doubt Mactavish has ever given a thought to his own ability to flee.

You glance at the thick corded leather and fluffy furs that seem to lay against him like a second skin. No, you don’t think this man has ever been meant to be anything but a viking. You’re sure he ran off to join them as soon as they landed on his shore.

“Where’s the well?” You temper your trembling, slough off the adrenaline that threatened to send you bolting.

Mactavish leads you out the door and points back behind the house to a small ring of stones, just high enough to keep children from falling in. You wonder why a man who lives alone would think to build up the walls of a well when a wooden cover works just as well on the ground as it does on stones, and banish the thoughts that your thinking churn up. You will not humanize the wolf that drools over the marrow in your bones. He has nothing for you, no kind hand or offer of assistance, and will take everything given the opportunity.

There is no humanity here.

The blue sky feels dull, the white clouds tinted grey, the grass rippling with shadows, so close to your home and yet so very alien to you. The squat houses that dot the town are stained dark from wear, and you manage to dim the colorful banners that signal the market closer to the harbor. Your eyes land on the strange spire that seems to needle the sky, the building dismal and dark nearer the center of town. Vikings must find the sharpness of a blade so beautiful that they construct monuments to it.

There are people there, threading through the paths that spread through the village like arteries. Mothers and children, craftsmen and shepherds. Sheep wander through the hills on the far side of your village and you feel your heart clench for your own village’s flock. Likely all dead now.

You turn your eyes to the well, and the bucket Mactavish had thrust into your hands. Work. Work will take your mind from your thoughts until your muscles ache too much to ignore. Then you can find a fitful rest.

You lug the heavy bucket of water back to Mactavish’s house just as smoke begins to stream from the hole at the top of it. You shoulder the door open and take the bucket towards the fire, eager to be free of your burden.

“We’ll need more than that,” Mactavish tells you from behind. You turn to watch him on the ladder, his cloak abandoned and his linen shirt sleeves pushed to his elbows. He leans to grab the rope holding the tub aloft, and you watch with curiosity as he pulls himself onto the rafter and sets about untying the knot. The flex of muscle under fabric doesn’t escape your notice, and the flicker of fire over his features makes him look more beast than man. The thick dark hair on his arms doesn’t help. Like a bear, you think, too big to face with just your wits.

Your fingers itch for the knife in your bag and you dismiss the thought.

You won’t let these vikings make you a killer, their violence might touch your mind but you won’t let it take hold. You’re smarter than that.

“What for?” You ask, though you know what for. Know it as clearly as you know the thunk of wood as Mactavish lowers the tub to the floor, as well as you recognize the strain of muscle against fabric a size too tight. Mactavish’s biceps flex from the weight of the tub even as it gentles itself on the wooden floor.

“You know what for.” He doesn’t patronize you, doesn’t look at you like you’re stupid, in fact he doesn’t look at you at all. He merely sets his gaze towards the wall and swings himself back towards the ladder. Silently, desperately, you hope he falls. You know it wouldn’t make any difference if he did.

“I’m not taking a bath,” You tell him.

“Aye, ya are.” He responds easily, clamoring down the ladder to finish setting the tub right. He gathers the netting from underneath it and begins winding the rope around his arm in quick motions.

“And you’ll force that on me too, I suppose?”

“If I have to,” Mactavish looks at you, his eyes like steel in the light of the fire. You want to protest, but you know it won’t do any good. You scowl, and turn to stalk out of the house. You can’t do it, can’t tie yourself to a man like him even if it is an act. Mactavish… no Scotsman would turn his back on his own people like this. A viking through and through. He doesn’t deserve that tartan.

You’ll find another viking then. Gaz seemed nice enough, pitying of your situation at least. You’ll try him.

You reach the well before you remember your hands are empty. Your frustration boils in your chest, and rips from your throat in a growl as you turn and storm back towards the door.

Mactavish is dumping the water into a cauldron over the fire when you stomp inside. He smiles when you snatch the bucket from his hands, smug. What does he have to be smug about? Asshole.

You storm out of the house a second time and hear Mactavish’s chuckle follow you through the door. Your cheeks burn with every step you take. Your shame follows you all the way to the well and you consider running just to make Mactavish’s life harder. Likely it would make yours harder as well. You weigh the pros and cons of it as you carry the full bucket back from the well.

“In the tub.” Mactavish tells you over his shoulder. You curse him under your breath as you pour the first bucket into the wood basin. This is going to take ages. You have no reason to comply except that Mactavish’s watchful eye makes compliance feel more like an inevitability than a choice. One more he’s taken from you, you suppose. The man does make a habit of stripping you bare of every path you might take in favor of his own.

Your next trip stirs a cold breeze under your skirts as you haul the overflowing bucket from the bottom of the well. You nearly lose your grip on the rope when you shudder. The cold here feels bitter. Are you further north than your village? Or are you already remembering the flames before the winter.

You try to remember your mother’s face, the way she’d bundle you against the cold with scarves and mittens. It doesn’t make you any warmer. You didn’t think it would, but you refuse to hold death as the only thing you remember of your life before this.

Someday you’ll be back in your village, you’ll find the bodies of the people you love and you’ll bury them. Then maybe you’ll bury yourself.

Better than being a viking.

You dump your second bucket of water in the tub. Mactavish is making himself busy with searching the house for something. You don’t ask. Conversation with him does nothing but anger you. You’re already stewing with each lap you take between the house and the well, festering in your thoughts to pass the time. Your fingers begin to ache around the fifth bucket, your back following near the seventh. By the time you return with the eight Mactavish is dumping the boiling pot into your chilly tub.

He takes the bucket from you and dumps it into the cauldron to boil. He doesn’t return it. You stand stiffly near the door, unsure what to do with yourself now that your labor seems to be completed. Even your thoughts seem to focus into a single point, settled on the glitter of water in the fire light. Your fingers squeeze into fists, your nails digging into your palm painfully tight. You release the tense fists and scratch your thumb nail against your fingertips instead.

Mactavish begins unlacing his leather vest and you press yourself closer to the wall. Your eyes follow each pluck of his fingers, drag with the cording through the eyelets, your heartbeat is starting to quicken with each rung on the ladder of his laces that gets discarded. You may as well be trying to paint yourself on the walls with how tightly you press yourself against it when Mactavish lets the leather drop off his shoulders.

He settles it on a chair with his cloak and furs, then turns to you. You flinch into the wood.

“Thought I told you,” He mutters to himself, loosening the lace on his undershirt and stripping the garment over his head, “I’m plannin’ on courting you properly.”

As if such a thought could comfort you now. He takes a step towards you and you draw your shoulders to your ears.

“Stay where you are.” You order.

“So ahm nae gonna touch you,” He lies, taking another step, your eyes dart wildly around the claustrophobically small house, “but you stink.”

“I’ll scream.” You assure him, inching towards the door.

“As loud as you want,” He agrees, “you’re goin’ in the tub either way.”

Your eyes go for the door as quickly as Mactavish lunges for you. You scramble for the exit, tearing the door open and bolting. You take two steps before something huge and heavy collides with you. Your head is grabbed and pressed close to Mactavish’s chest before you hit the ground, pinned under a man who’s lucky you don’t have a knife on you. You scream and thrash under him. It makes little difference except to make Mactavish grunt with effort as he hauls you up into his arms and drags you back into the house.

You scream even when the door shuts, even when you’re set on your feet, it’s only when you’re spun to face Mactavish’s ruddy cheeks that you stop. You spend your silence to spit on his face. He bares his teeth at you with a growl and his hands grab at your earsaid. You flinch away, beating his hands off your clothes. “Don’t touch me.”

“Cannae go in with your clothes on,” He presses, grabbing for you again. He gets a hand around your waist to grab your back, strong arms holding you tight to his chest as he rips at the laces of your dress. You beat at his shoulders like a desperate flailing animal. It makes no difference.

“Let me go,” You shriek. His fingers unfasten your pin and you yelp when he sticks you with the sharp point. It feels like a punishment for your disobedience.

“Quit your squirmin’,” Mactavish grits, “You won’t take it off yerself, I gotta do it for you.”

“I’ll do it!” You yell at him, his hands feel too big, too heavy, and shame is starting to burn over your skin. Your hips bump the hilt of his knife and he lets you go. You take several shaky steps away from him, holding your dress tightly closed. He’d nearly ripped the laces trying to get the knot open. Your fingers shake, your heart hammers in your chest. He takes a step towards you when you take too long standing there. “I said I’d do it,” You snap quickly, turning your back to him.

You swallow the fear in your chest, the hatred that sours on your tongue. You don’t particularly want to undress in front of a man you hardly know, but you aren’t being given a choice. “Don’t look,” You call over your shoulder. You hear a hum in response and glance over your shoulder to see him turning around. You’re quick to divest yourself of the rest of your Earasaid, folding it neatly before your fingers are fumbling with the loosened ties on your dress. You get the knot open and tug at the lacing to open the dress enough to pull over your head, your underdress quickly follows. Another glance over your shoulder to make sure Mactavish isn’t watching and you step into the warm water.

It’s lukewarm, but not unpleasantly so. You sink into the tub, face the edge to give yourself some privacy from Mactavish’s wandering eyes. The warmth sinks into your bones against the chill of the room. You sink lower, trying to soak up as much of the warmth as you can before you force yourself to wash. You scrub your hand over your arm, watching the sweat and dirt slough off, you wish-

The water raises and shifts, splashes over the sides as Mactavish settles behind you with a groan. You glance over your shoulder at him startled, he’s facing you, leaned back against the other end. His head’s tipped back against the edge, throat bared and long legs caging you in as he relaxes in the warm water. You don’t see how he can share so easily, look so at ease, when it feels like your heart is about to pound its way out of your chest. Fear, it must be fear that seizes you when he opens his eyes to look at you.

His gaze feels like hands the way it drags over you, hot and heavy. You look away, face the wall again and decide you can’t do this. You move to pull yourself out of the bath and quickly sit back down when you feel the chill of the air on skin you’d rather keep to yourself. Especially when you feel Mactavish’s hands hovering on either side of you, as if he’d pull you back in himself.

“You said you wouldn’t touch me,” You remind him, your voice quieter than you want it to be.

“Ahm nae,” He tells you, voice thick as he settles back again, “Just looking.” He huffs, tipping his head back again as he relaxes again. “Cannae leave you alone, might try tae run again.”

You do your best not to curl in on yourself at his words, the rumble of his voice, the weight of his eyes. He’s not wrong, but that doesn’t stop the heat that burns over your skin at sharing a bath with him. Acting shy has never suited you, but it’s a hard thing to ignore. You busy yourself with cleaning up, snagging a cloth from the nearby stool and wetting it.

There’s another splash in the water, a disturbance of the delicate surface tension. You peek back at Mactavish and watch him drag the hot cauldron closer to dump the heated contents into the basin. The flood of heat makes you shiver. It’s mere moments before it soaks into your muscles and you have to stop the moan that threatens to escape. Gods that feels good. You could stay in this cradle of warmth for hours.

If you were alone, that is. As is, you refuse to give this man a better look at you than he’s already gotten. After all, you have managed to hold onto some dignity. You scrub your arms harder with the cloth, wishing you had some-

“Don’t want you callin’ me Soap,” Mactavish breaks your thoughts after a moment’s silence. His fingers drag through the water, lazy, as you scrub yourself. You’re eager to get out of this tub, and he seems just as eager to stay in it. He leans forward, and for a moment you fear his legs will drag you back against him. Instead you feel the warmth of his breath over goosebumped skin as he offers you a tallow soap. The soft buttery color of it disappears in your hastily grabbing hands.

“Mactavish does me just fine,” You grit, rubbing the soap into the cloth. You scrub your cheeks, and work on lathering the lye scented stuff into a lather for your hair.

“John-” He corrects, “Johnny if you-” He cuts himself off. You don’t see the need for either name. They’re too familiar. Still, you file them away.

“You hardly deserve the courtesy of Mactavish,” You bite, “what makes you think I have any desire to call you by a nickname?”

“Cannae be Mactavish forever,” he grunts, you feel a tug at your hair and swat his hand away, you collide with nothing but open air. You glare over your shoulder at him. He only smiles. “What if another one pops up?”

“And what if you stopped talking to me.” You grumble, since you’re naming things that are unlikely to happen.

You scooch back from the edge of the tub to dunk your head under the water. You bump Mactavish’s knee when you pull your head up, ignoring the way his thick thighs bracket you as you try to wring some of the water from your hair.

His fingers grip the edge of the tub like a vice, no longer dragging lazily through the water his knuckles are white from the strain. Your eyes travel up his wrist and over his arms to see the bulge of his flexed bicep. You can’t stare too much or he might get ideas, can’t even turn your head past what you need to scrub the wet soapy cloth over the side of your neck.

“Move back where you were Vaenn,” Mactavish orders you. You huff out a laugh.

“Oh,” you tease, unable to stop yourself, “Am I in your space? Am I making you uncomfortable?”

You look at him with a mirthful smile and his eyes bore holes into you, blue swallowed by the black of his pupils and his jaw tight. It startles you and in an effort to avoid meeting his gaze you turn yours down.

Did you realize that there was so much of him under his clothes? He looks to be made entirely of that thick corded muscle that you’d only seen laboring men in your village with. Your pulse throbs in your throat as your eyes trace over him, following the swirling intricacies of paint. From the ram whos horns swirl over his heart, to the tribal markings that trace down his ribs towards-

You shriek as your eyes land on his hard cock where it bobs in the warm water. You scramble away, and when your back hits the edge of the tub you frantically press your foot to Mactavish’s chest to keep him from coming after you. His big body, already moving towards you, now rooted in place at your touch. His eyes rake over you, the soap suds doing little to hide your body under the clear water, and land on the tuft of hair between your legs. His brows pinch together and he lets out a pained noise.

Your foot follows him as he settles back where he was. Your foot slips and he grits his teeth.

“Keep to your own space,” He swallows, “or get out.”

You grab onto the opportunity for freedom and nearly trip getting out of the tub. You don’t care anymore, he’s seen all there is to see, and you are humiliated. You snatch your underdress from the floor and scamper through the nearest doorway.

Your hands shake from more than just the cold as you tug the linen garment over your head, your wet skin scraping under the fabric. You wrap your arms around yourself to ease through the worst of the shaking. Fear, you think. It must be.

It’s darker in here, the wall separating this room from the main one also keeps the fires light from dipping its fingers into it. Still, your eyes aren’t so spoiled by the fire that they can’t tell the shape of a bed. It’s a boxy thing, tucked into the corner and lined with furs. It’s bigger than one man should require, and fleetingly you wonder if he has a wife tucked away somewhere. You quickly dismiss the thought, you doubt any woman would stomach Mactavish long enough for marriage. Besides, you’ve seen no signs of a woman anywhere in this small house.

Just him then.

You ignore the splashing from the other room and try to find something to occupy yourself with. There’s a candle beside the bed, a comb, a small wooden bear, a chair and a basket of cloth that you assume holds more clothing. You settle on the bed, feel the crunch of straw under your bottom before you feel yourself sink a short distance. At least he has a mattress in here. You fix your gaze on the wall and try not to think of anything.

But your mind is filled with painted markings, with stories of warriors that earn stripes and were driven north of your home. He really was made to be a viking then.

And hair. You’d thought the patches on his arms were dark but the mass of it that wanders down the midline of his chest is so much thicker. They must have had to dye his skin to get the pain to stick through that.

You press your thighs together, discomfort burning warm in your flipping stomach.

Not a piece of him you like then.

Your head jerks towards the room’s doorway when it darkens. Mactavish leans against the frame. You can’t tell what he’s thinking, can’t see his face from the shadows that he casts.

“You can take the bed tonight,” He tells you, and you must perk up too much because he holds up a hand and crushes you with it, “just tonight, we’ll share after.”

Your heart falls.

And some cowardly part of you tugs you back from going after him. He’ll just force you down as easily as he forced you into the tub.

You suppose even vikings must yearn for their own beds at some point. You just wish you weren’t included in that bed.

#x reader #cod x reader #x oc #cod x oc #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #john mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #soap cod #soap x reader #soap call of duty #soap mw2 #soap modern warfare #viking!Soap #f!reader #viking au #no beta I will edit this when I notice a mistake

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earlysunshines · 8 months ago

Text

in a moment you and i

kim minji x fem!reader ; angst, fluff

synopsis: minji has two side hustles, one of them is swinging around the city and saving people and the other is admiring you from afar. little does she know, you’re also admiring her -- not that you're aware of it.

warnings: minji is spiderwoman!! and really just a nerd under that suit ; a very pretty, oblivious, adorable nerd ; blood and violence ; pining, slowburn kinda ; ending is a lil rushed and pacing is wack imo (sooory) ; wtv else i didn’t mention

a/n: i think its funny how she's mj (minji) but spiderwoman in this anyways I kekeke lmao lol ijbol thinking ab her in those fuckass (adorable beautiful amazing lovely cute) black frames,,,

kim minji might just be one of the smartest students in her class — she’s also the sleepiest one these days.

she is two seconds away from falling asleep in class because some people can’t seem to go a second without breaking the law, and the only web-slinging person who can stop them is her.

why would anyone break into ador labs at two in the morning on a weekday? because of this, minji had to spring out of bed in the dead of night, battling a gang of thieves for nearly two exhausting hours. by the time she had webbed them to the wall, called the police, and swung back home, she only had three hours before she had to be up again.

she even got pestered by hanni for taking so long while she waited outside the house. the younger girl had to wait a few extra minutes because minji had woken up late, it’s not like she wanted to lose a few hours of sleep. when she explained to hanni why she had applied concealer on the walk to school (hanni had been the first to know about everything going on with her and why her hands were sticking to everything the day after her little spider incident), the younger girl nodded and relented.

minji’s eyelids grow heavier with each blink, and soon enough they don’t open again as she falls asleep on her palm. minji’s already caught up with this unit, it won’t hurt to sleep a bit anyway – just a few minutes.

a few minutes fades into twenty and her head falls to her forearm in the middle of her nap.

“right, that wraps up class for today everyone. chapter thirteen is your homework, we’ll have a small quiz next class on it.” mr. lee says right as the bell rings. he looks over to minji, sighing as everyone starts to pack their bags. “and someone please wake up minji.”

no one seems to hear him, no one but you.

you catch minji near the window in the second row from the front. her hair falls over her face and only her nose pokes out, but you can see a little bit of her eye from where you’re standing. the empty seat hints that danielle isn’t here today, usually she’d be the one to wake minji up.

“hey, i’ll catch up with you later, okay?” you say to jungwon, who smiles and nods before rushing out the class.

mr. lee doesn’t seem to notice minji, too absorbed in something on his laptop and the papers scattered across his desk. you walk over and tap her once—no response. you try again, with the same result. finally, you lightly grip her shoulder and give her a gentle shake to wake her up.

"huh, what? danielle?" minji mumbles, sitting up and blinking slowly. she turns over, eyes still closed, and fixes her hair. when she finally opens her eyes again, she’s surprised to see you. her eyes widen slightly, and she feels a surge of nervousness. "oh, y/n."

“morning!” you grin, then point to the papers and folder on her desk. “you need help with those? the bell just rang.”

“did it?”

“yeah, a minute ago.”

minji sighs, fixing the black glasses she has on her face. you look at her, still, with a smile on your face and raised brows.

“i don’t need help, you should get to class.”

“you sure? please, i insist.”

“i–” minji wonders if she’s still dreaming, the l/n y/n is offering her help and smiling at her – kim minji.

ever since you two were first paired for a small project in eighth-grade science, she’s always felt giddy near you. in minji’s mind, you’re some angel from heaven. she has you on an imaginary pedestal that towers above the tallest buildings in the city. you’re on the tennis team, you volunteer, you’re smart, you’re in student government, and you’re so gorgeous that minji can’t think straight around you.

unfortunately for her, half the school feels the same way, making you an unattainable fantasy. still, minji admires you from afar, blushing at the mere mention of your name and gushing about you to her friends, who never miss an opportunity to tease her about her obvious crush.

“um, yeah, thanks.” minji mutters, gulping as you begin to put her papers in a stack and place them in her folder neatly.

“danielle isn’t here today, is that right?”

“u-um, no.”

“aw, that’s a shame.”

minji tries her best to stay sane in your presence, putting all her attention on the psychology textbook that she’s shoving in her bag. “mhm.”

you hand minji her blue folder adorned with various stickers she’s collected and she takes it nervously. you smile one more time, placing a hand on her shoulder and she think she might blow up.

“you should get more sleep.”

“yeah, definitely.”

“i’ll see you around, bye minji.” you wave your hand and turn to leave, minji’s lips part as she stays stuck in place, trying to regain her composure.

–

“dude, you have like– three classes with her. are you ever going to make a move or…?”

hanni’s voice is small and faint as she looks at you from across the lobby. the bell has just rung, and everyone is free to leave, but hanni and minji always wait for their two underclassmen they’ve basically adopted to hang out after school.

“hm?”

the younger girl groans, “c’mon, we’re seniors! just stop thinking and go do something! you’ve liked her for years.”

“she’s probably not even gay! she’s always with jungwon…”

“they look like friends to me.” hanni crosses her arms and looks over at you. you’re in a little group with jimin, ningning, and wonyoung, conversing with them and giggling here and there. “she’s not even with jungwon right now.”

“that’s– oh my god, be real.” minji sighs, then turns away to look at hanni dead in the eye. “i unironically take pictures for the yearbook and am in the book club. i don’t know, i’m not eye catching or known or fucking drool worthy.”

“girl, change that then!”

hyein and haerin walk over to the upperclassmen to see them bickering again. hyein butts in, stepping into minji’s personal space. “what’s the argument this time?”

“minji’s lovergirl.”

“ahhh, i’ll pay you ten dollars if you ask her out.”

“i’m not taking your money hyein.” minji pinches the bridge of her nose, then starts to trudge away. “let’s go, it doesn’t matter. i’m hungry and i have less than an hour before i need to start editing the layout for the yearbook.”

the group starts to walk out the entrance, but not before minji gets teased and grilled again. little does minji know, you’re glancing at her the whole time. your eyes follow her as she rolls her eyes and playfully punches hanni in the shoulder. for some reason, the corners of your lips turn up in a smile.

–

a few days later, minji finds herself battling an idiot who decided to scale the side of the ador building. civilians are screaming, and some are injured, but minji swiftly moves them to safety.

the culprits wield various weapons, forcing minji to dodge bricks left and right. pieces of debris fly at her, nearly hitting her limbs, and she ends up with a small cut on her cheekbone.

she manages to fend off two of the three culprits, webbing them against a broken wall while dealing with the last one. this guy has good aim and manages to throw a huge piece of the building at her leg, making her wince in pain.

shit, that’s going to bruise.

minji grunts as she catches the piece of the building that had hit her – mid air with her web – and flings it back at the man, hitting him right in the torso and knocking him out.

she slings her web toward the building and leaps, sticking herself to the wall. she takes a few moments to recover, pressing a finger to her face and feeling the blood trickle from the small cut. minji sighs, wiping her face before webbing the criminals together in a way that will make the police's job easier.

(even if they’re not very fond with spiderwoman.)

minji has a sharp sense of awareness; her reflexes and attention to the smallest details give her a kind of sixth sense. still, she doesn’t notice you observing the whole scene from afar.

you had been in the building next door for tennis practice but immediately stopped when you heard the commotion. seeing the vigilante in blue made your jaw drop and your eyes shine with admiration. the way spiderwoman handled the situation left you more than just amazed. you found it incredibly intriguing how she could swing around and fight so fluidly.

“woah.” you say in awe, eyes following spiderwoman as she swings away.

“you’re obsessed with her,” jungwon sighs, “but holy shit that was crazy.”

“she’s so cool.”

“doesn’t your dad… hate her?” he questions, making you bite your lip.

your dad was one of the higher-ranking officers in the police force, so everything spiderwoman did reached you through him—just in a more negative light. he’d complain about the “messes” and “damage” she left behind, and you had to hold yourself back from defending her. you found spiderwoman endearing, considering she put her life on the line and was probably a normal person with responsibilities and things to do, yet she took the time to protect others.

of course, your father had the same goals: protecting the city, safeguarding the people, and creating a safer community. he did his best to achieve this, often catching criminals with his impressive skills, but his idea of fighting crime never really aligned with spiderwoman’s methods. you seemed to favor spiderwoman’s actions a little more, considering you’d put much more threatening people down and your dad was always holding some grudge. he’s just too stubborn to understand, really.

“it’s whatever, i mean, can he do that?”

“okay but he’s a cop y/n. spiderwoman is literally some unknown person with powers that could harm others if she decides to go rogue.”

“why do you always think about the bad?” you groan, then return to the court. you grab a tennis ball, bouncing it up and down before catching it. “she’s doing a lot, all she’s done is help the cops ever since she’s been public to the eye. it’s not her fault journalists are trying to shame her. you sound like my dad… gross.”

jungwon scoffs amusingly, “if your dad knew how you really felt… i’d love to watch that unfold.”

“shut up, why are you invested in my dad’s beef with spiderwoman and not getting a boyfriend.”

“and when are you going to stop fangirling over a masked woman that can shoot webs out her wrist.”

you throw the tennis ball in your hand up, then swing aggressively, catching jungwon off guard and making him jump to the side. he looks at you with a confused expression, you simply shake your head.

“let a girl do what she wants.”

minji shows up to school sore and there’s a bandage on her cheek from the night before. she groans as she sits next to hanni in their english class, leaning against her for support.

“dude, what the hell is up with you.”

“a piece of building and fighting for half an hour that’s what.”

“oh.” hanni hums, “sorry to hear.”

“it’s your fault.”

“hey!” hanni frowns.

hanni is one to experiment, and a month ago her victim had been a spider. she had tested various methods of enhancing the spiders abilities and modifying its dna to create an adhesive for the science fair, and unfortunately for minji, the spider had escaped and bit her. minji simply wanted to find a few beakers for her own experiment, the last thing she expected was a spider biting her hand and the next day she didn’t need glasses, her body was toned, she could lift her bed up with a hand — and the worst surprise was her fingers were sticking to everything she picked up.

“well, if you had been more careful…”

“don’t turn this around.” minji sighs, closing her eyes and trying to rest a bit.

her eyes are still closed when she hears a familiar voice that makes her heart flutter, opening them when you start to converse with wonyoung.

“my mom works at ador, i can’t believe spiderwoman had saved her…” wonyoung says.

“really? she did?” you look at her, itching for more details.

“yeah, she almost fell to the ground and spiderwoman saved her.” she repeats.

“wow… im glad she’s okay! oh my gosh, your mom is so lucky, im glad spiderwoman was there.”

minji turns to look at you, fighting back a smile. she is?

“i’d love to be saved by spiderwoman, she seems so cool… like, imagine willingly saving people and whatnot. she must be such great person, right?”

you watch wonyoung shrug, then sit down at her desk. you sit down next to her and she starts to take her folder out her bag before adding, “i mean, probably. she saved my mom, she’s a hero in my eyes.”

“she’s so cool…” you sigh dreamily, minji can’t believe it. “the way she fights is like, oh my god, so sick. i can’t believe she’s real, she’s out of this world.”

you, y/n, are talking highly of spiderwoman. that basically means you’re gushing about her, right? minji blinks three times, fully waking up after the third, and smiles to herself.

wonyoung snickers, “sounds like you have a crush on spiderwoman.”

“stop that! she’s just… ugh.” you roll your eyes and nudge wonyoung. “she’s so admirable, i wish more people would see her as a hero, you know? she’s only done good so far, all the damage and stuff like that only happened because of the people she fought.”

minji might die – her heart feels like it's about to burst. you're on the same wavelength as her, defending spiderwoman, and you admire her too. the way you smile while talking about her alter ego makes minji feel giddy inside. hanni notices, rolls her eyes, and sets her head down on the desk, trying to catch a few extra minutes of sleep while minji revels in the feeling of being in love. hanni might barf.

wonyoung smiles at you, raising her brows. “you’re a fan.”

“maybe.” you admit, looking at the board in front of you. “she’s so cool, that’s all.”

–

minji’s sat outside in the courtyard looking through the pictures she had taken for the archery team. there’s a variety of shots that capture their activities, highlighting their form and bullseyes, and there are a few group pictures in the mix as well.

her eyes are squinting as she looks through them, so focused on the photos that she doesn’t notice someone calling her name.

"hey, minji," you call out, but she’s still hunched over, intently focused on her camera. you walk over, and she doesn’t notice you, too absorbed in adjusting the settings. gently, you grab the front of her cap and turn it around, making it sit backward on her head. startled, she looks up from the camera in her hand to see you. "hi," you greet again, a smile spreading across your lips.

minji’s cheeks flush. “hi, hey. did you need something?”

“yeah, i just wanted to ask a favor.”

“oh, of course, what was it?”

you sit down next to her and she feels herself stiffen up. you smile at her and lean against the table behind you. “well, i was wondering if you could help take pictures for the tennis team? we have a practice and game coming up so i figured they’d be good on the yearbook. also, jungwon wanted to ask you to help him promote a fundraiser he wants to set up.”

“he did?”

you nod, “jungwon’s been planning this for a while, we’re trying to set it up and do a bake sale of some sort.”

“i’m down, but i’m booked for this week. a lot of people have been asking around, and my friends have priority, you know.”

a giggle slips from your lips and you point to her camera. “well, who wouldn’t ask you? you’re the best photographer here, last years yearbook was amazing because they switched heeseung out for you.”

“you think?”

“i know.”

minji stops for a second, it feels like she’s being squeezed and the way you look at her makes her heart beat a little faster.

“t-thanks.” minji hates the small stutter in her response and the way she avoids your gaze. “i can um, arrange something next wednesday for the tennis team. for jungwon’s fundraiser maybe the same week, what was it for anyway?”

"we’re trying to raise money to support others in places that don’t have equal care for the lgbtq+ community!" you explain excitedly. minji freezes up again. we? no, maybe you're just an ally; minji can’t just assume. you're really sweet, kind, and a great person, but that doesn’t mean you're gay just because you want to help others.

“that’s wonderful.”

“mhm, and especially with so many people getting hurt these days, it worries me how people in my own community deal with unequal healthcare, you know?”

minji tilts her head, then says, “wait, your community?”

you look at her with confusion all over you. “yeah! mine. minji, you know im… a lesbian, right?”

fireworks explode, people are cheering, and minji smiles before quickly suppressing it. "oh," she says, then pauses, realizing how flat her response sounds. she nearly drops her camera as she raises a hand in defense, shaking it and stuttering, "i-i mean, it's not a bad thing! obviously, i mean, i'm gay, er—i'm a lesbian too. i think it's great that you care so much about this. it's great. yeah, i'll prioritize the shoot for you."

she looks adorable, cheeks flushed and her glasses sliding down her nose. you push them up with your finger and minji clenches her jaw.

“great.” you say softly, then narrow your eyes at her. “well, i have to get going for practice. thanks again, you’re the best minji.”

she nods and grips the camera in her hand a little tighter, watching you walk away, then turn around for a brief moment to add,

“you look really good with your hat like that, by the way.” the way it slips off your tongue, the way you smile once more and walk away, leaves minji feeling like she’s near cardiac arrest.

–

minji’s at a mall on a weekend, not to shop or hangout with her friends, but because people think it’s a good idea to try and commit crimes in broad daylight.

they’re not just normal, stupid shoplifters either; they’re far from it – near villains. the men she’s fighting have weapons, and they’re raiding various tech stores, causing chaos as people run around screaming. the scene is a mess, with extensive property damage, and minji wonders how it will ever get fixed.

she fights four men in the apple store, they chuck phones at her in hopes of slowing her down, but really, it’s just putting good phones to waste. she jumps up on the ceiling, catching them by surprise, and takes them down one by one from where she is. they’re not difficult to fight, minji had alrieady figured from the whole phone throwing part, so thankfully there’s isn’t a single scratch on her.

a few more stores are terrorized and minji manages to capture at least ten more culprits, webbing them together or sticking them to a wall for the police to find red-handed. she’s left with a few bruises by then, but nothing too brutal.

minji catches sight of two men in the corner of her eye running toward the metro stop that connects to the mall. she quickly follows, weaving past civilians and using her webs to launch herself ahead, closing the distance faster. she watches as the two men jump the entrance gate to the station. not only did they destroy a decent part of the mall, but they didn’t even bother to pay for the metro. they could’ve at least bought a day pass, she thinks wryly.

by the time she gets passed the entrance (she didn’t pay either, but in her case it’s to stop crime) and finds herself at a rough stop.

there are three metro lines: red, blue, and yellow – after getting down the stairs there are three directions that they could’ve gone, and minji doesn’t have time to check every place considering the metro comes and goes.

she’s stuck, the only thing she can do is pick one and pray that she’ll find them.

that’s what she thinks at least, until she hears a woman screaming for help in the direction of the red line. minji swings towards it almost immediately, using her enhanced agility and power to get there as fast as she can.

when she reaches the platform, her eyes widen.

the two men hold you, your arms are restricted and you’re desperately trying to squirm out their grasp. minji immediately feels anger bubbling up inside of her, watching the way the men smile at her.

“let her go.” minji warns, stepping closer.

"how about you relax, spiderwoman? put your hands up, and the girl will be perfectly fine," one of the men sneers, pulling out a dagger and holding it against your neck. your head tilts up, desperately trying to avoid the blade, and your breath shakes as you freeze in place. "wouldn't want to hurt such a pretty little thing, hm? she is one of the captain's daughters, isn't that right?" the man adds, smiling at you disgustingly.

“fuck you.” you curse through gritted teeth. “ugly bitch.”

the man presses the flat side of the dagger against you, the frigid feeling of the material makes you gasp.

you seemed to have been browsing around the mall, considering the casual outfit you have on, but now, you’re in danger. minji looks at you worried, unable to process much from just seeing you being held back like that. you look at her with upturned brows, scared out of your mind but also worrying just as much for spiderwoman.

minji sighs quickly, there’s others around as well, she can’t risk causing a scene in such a tight space with so much risk of making things worse. she puts her hands up slowly, you widen your eyes.

“fine, i won’t budge. just take that blade away from her, now.” minji says.

the man laughs, and so does his little partner in crime. “what, this blade?” he uses the dagger to tilt your head to the side to face him, then grins. “i wouldn’t do a thing to such a beauty.”

you fight back a retort, opting to shut yourself up for the time being. the man puts his hand down, taking away the blade from your throat.

“let her go.” minji orders, looking at you being held back. “she didn’t do anything.”

his partner snickers, then looks at you amusedly before looking back at minji. “you just stay there and we’ll see what happens to–”

before he can answer, you manage to kick him in the back of his knee, throwing him off balance and making him stumble. this gives you a quick opportunity to break free from one man's grip and swing your free hand at the other. you successfully land a blow on the man with the dagger, striking his jaw, but the impact hurts your knuckles, making you inhale sharply.

the men recover as you step away from them, eyeing you angrily.

“you little–”

before they can grab you again, you feel something sticking to your back. you’re being pulled backwards and feel an arm wraps around you. turning over, you see spiderwoman up close and in person. the eyes on her mask narrow as she looks at you, then asks,

“are you okay?”

you gulp, then breathe hard. “yeah, yes.”

“good, stay put.” she says.

you watch as she runs toward the man you had kicked, delivering a punch to his jaw and another to his stomach, making him fall back with a groan. he lays on the ground, clutching his belly, unable to get up after just two hits. the other man, now frightened, clutches his dagger. you watch as spider-woman slings a web at his chest, pulling him toward her, and then punches him right where you did.

you’re amazed, to say the least—until the man somehow manages to swing his dagger at spiderwoman’s upper forearm, leaving a deep cut. your eyes widen in horror as blood seeps out onto the floor.

she gasps in pain as the man attempts to swing at her shoulder, but she quickly throws him to the ground before he can and shoots a web at his hand, making the dagger fall in the process.

ignoring the pain for a moment, minji traps the men on the dirty platform floor by webbing their limbs to the ground. she kicks the man who had the dagger in the crotch for good measure. people cheer in amazement, applauding her efforts.

however, minji’s too distracted by the sharp pain from the cut, and that you’re watching.

she turns to see you appalled, walking over to look at her wound closer.

“you’re– spiderwoman, you’re hurt.”

“it’s not much,” she lies, shaking her head. “just a scratch.”

“no, no it’s not don’t lie to my face.” you grab her wrist without warning, and even though she’s spiderwoman at the moment – not kim minji, the girl who can barely make eye contact with you for more than five seconds – she’s momentarily distracted by the pain and blushing. “i– are you able to swing places?”

“um, i guess?” the confidence she’s built for this alter ego has completely washed away in your presence. “what are you–”

before she can finish, you fish for a handkerchief in your bag and tie it around the bleeding cut. minji doesn’t respond or say anything because a second later you’ve grabbed her hand and started running away from the red line platform. civillians watch, but none follow.

you turn to her for a split second as you speed through the corridors to ask, “do you know where hybe highschool is?”

“yes,” minji says breathily, “excuse me, y/–” she catches herself before exposing the fact that she knows you. “miss, what are you–”

“take me there, you can swing me, can’t you?”

the handkerchief does wonders, or maybe it’s just you. spiderwoman nods. “yeah, yes.”

in a rush of boldness, minji grabs your waist and holds onto you tight, shooting a web up at the ceiling to get the two of you up the big escalator in two seconds, then finds the nearest exit and has you two outside in no time.

“hold on tight, okay? it can be a little scary.”

“i like the thrill, it’s okay.”

minji pauses, catching her breath. “you’re interesting,” she says, then shoots a web at the nearest building. she jumps up, swinging the two of you through the urban jungle, the city blurring around you as minji finds the quickest route to her school with you clinging onto her.

–

when the two of you reach the school, it’s closed and abandoned since it’s a saturday. why would anyone be on the campus during their off day? in this case, it’s because a pretty girl has led spiderwoman back for a reason she hasn’t even said yet.

minji needs to get a grip.

“follow me,” you say quickly, then grab her hand and run towards the south entrance where the main office and clinic are. ““if you’re ever hurt, just remember this.”

the doors aren’t open, but you pull out a keycard from under the mat that unlocks it.

you lead her past the office and towards the clinic, which is empty. minji lets you sit her down – you’re too in your head to consider the fact that spiderwoman is sat down with no word uttered because she had simply let you do so – and watches you shuffle around the storage to find a first aid kit, cloth, a bucket, and a bottle of distilled water.

“what are you doing?”

“you have a really deep cut in your forearm, it’s not safe to just let it go.”

“i could’ve seen a doctor.”

you scoff, then sit down next to her. “they’d ring the police immediately, you know my dad is a captain? everyone there hates you.”

“oh.”

"yeah, oh." you grab her forearm, unwrapping the handkerchief and cringing at how much blood has soaked through. "jesus christ." you hold her forearm above a bucket, pouring water over the wound to rinse it off. then you grab a soft cloth with disinfectant to clean around the area. the sting makes minji groan. "sorry," you apologize.

"it’s fine," she says quietly, watching you clean around the wound with an alcohol wipe. minji bites back more sounds of pain—for your sake, of course.

the rest of the time you treat her, it's silent. thankfully, the cut isn’t severe enough to need stitches. you apply a thin layer of ointment to the wound, then cover it with gauze, wrapping it securely around her forearm to keep it in place. you rub your thumb over the gauze, then look up at spiderwoman.

“does it hurt less?”

“yeah,” she says, looking down at her treated cut. “thank you.”

“it’s nothing.”

“why did you do it?”

“why not?” you shrug, packing up the equipment you used. “you’re spiderwoman.”

“you just said the police hate me.”

“they do.”

“your dad is a cop.”

“you’re smart,” you grin at her teasingly as she points out the obvious. “he is.”

minji sighs, unable to read you at all. “you don’t hate me?”

“i don’t have any reason to. most of the time you do their job better, you help out with the more… serious crimes. if anything, i think you’re a hero.”

that manages to shut spiderwoman up, so you continue, putting the first aid kit away in the cabinet. then you grab the blood and water mixture and pour it down the sink. you rinse the bucket and place it on the ground before tossing the empty water bottle into the trash.

minji cannot believe any of this happened. you, the prettiest, sweetest girl in the school that she’s been head over heels for since grade eight, have managed to drag a vigilante five minutes away to your school and treat her.

“how are you so good with stuff like this?” minji questions, watching you wash your hands.

“my aunt is a nurse.” you dry off your hands with a paper towel, then turn to look at her. “she taught me a fair amount.”

of course you know how to treat a wound, you’re good at everything, minji thinks.

“thank you…?”

“y/n,” minji already knows that, and you saying it is like choir bells ringing. “my name is y/n.”

“right, thank you y/n.”

“mhm.” she watches you fix your black t-shirt and jeans, then grab a small bandaid from the drawer nearby. you look in the mirror and lift your head up, turning to the side to place the bandaid on a small cut that minji didn’t notice before.

“he hurt you?”

“‘just a scratch,’” you mock her words from earlier. “he just grazed me, it’s bleeding a little now though.”

“you’re okay, right?”

“kind of traumatized but i’ll be fine.” you say, brushing it off like it’s nothing. minji is seriously attracted to everything about you. “i’m glad you’re okay.”

“i should be the one saying that.”

“i’m okay, spiderwoman. all because of you.”

minji tries to respond, but her throat dries up. she watches you smile at her, feeling her heart do a little flip in her chest. she wonders what she can do in return, then perks her head up as an idea forms in her mind.

“i can drop you back off at home, it’s getting late,” you offer, though it’s only five o’clock in the afternoon. despite the early hour, minji finds herself wanting to spend more time with you. behind the mask, she feels a bit more confident talking to you, knowing you think highly of her from what you’ve overheard. “you like the thrill, right?”

“you’re a good listener.”

“i guess so.”

“i’d love to get home via spiderwoman, uber’s are pricey these days.”

minji laughs softly and the pain in her arm fades away momentarily.

–

you’re bombarded the next day by your friends and some other people you’ve only talked to a few times in your (almost) four years of being in the school. they all question the same thing, everything is related to what happened between you and spiderwoman because of some pictures going around on the internet.

the people you don’t know all too well all question your experience, but your friends are asking if you’re okay or severely injured.

jungwon acts as a bodyguard, shooing away everyone who isn’t in your circle and tilting your head up to examine the bandaid on your neck.

“is your throat okay?”

“it’s nothing, just a little worse than a papercut,” you assure, but wonyoung makes a face.

“papercuts are terrible y/n,” she groans, “are you sure you’re fine?”

“it’s nothing. spiderwoman saved me before i could do anything, i’ll tell you more, let’s just get to class?”

“you’re sure you’re–”

“wonyoung, it’s a scratch. it’s nothing.”

–

after school, you’re typically at tennis practice or helping out with student government activities. you usually get home around four or five, either sweaty from practice or burnt out from your responsibilities. normally, you arrive before your dad and aunt. your dad’s demanding schedule rarely allows him to rest, and your aunt’s schedule is worse considering she’s a nurse, so you’re usually home alone for a bit.

that’s not the case this time.

you close the door behind you, then turn to see your dad leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. your aunt looks at you, clearly tense.

“oh, you’re both home.” you set your jacket on the little hook in the door. “what’s up…?” the way your dad looks at you makes you stiff, his jaw tightens and he looks angry. he’s rarely ever angry at you, and your aunt seems worried. “did something happen?” you ask.

“how about you explain to me why i’m finding out today,” he steps away from the counter, walking towards you and continuing, “that my daughter crossed paths with that vigilante.”

“spiderwoman?”

“y/n, i thought you knew better.”

your shoulders sink and you sigh, “she’s not as bad as you paint her out to be.”

“she could be, she’s dangerous.”

“dad!” you scoff, shaking your head. “are you dense? if she hadn’t been there, my throat would’ve been sliced.”

“or maybe you wouldn’t have been in that situation at all. you realize those men used you to get spiderwoman to surrender? because of her i almost lost my only daughter.”

your aunt simply hums, then nods. “i’m sorry but… your dad has a point.”

“you’re agreeing with him too?” you groan, “dad, regardless of what could’ve happened, what did happen was that spiderwoman saved me. can’t you see that?”

“y/n, think about what could happen in the long run, listen to your dad. look, i know you’re frustrated, but your dad is also my older brother, he’s always known what’s best.”

“all that spiderwoman can bring is danger to you, don’t follow her antics.”

you stare at both of them, baffled and almost offended. you could’ve died, and they’re still ungrateful for spider-woman’s efforts. you bite the inside of your lip, struggling to hold back the urge to lash out. your dad sends you a small warning look, silently reminding you to keep your composure. scoffing, since it's the only outlet for your frustration, you storm down the hall to your room, deciding to avoid them for a while.

once you close the door, you flop down on your bed and close your eyes.

various emotions come rushing to you, only fuelign the fire of resent towards your dad in the moment.

he’s been so uptight since your mom passed when you were young, becoming increasingly protective and closed off. he pushes you to be better but restricts you from so many things. it’s as if he wants to hide you from the world, only exposing you to what he deems right. his selfishness and narrow-mindedness infuriate you. his biased views feel like chains holding you back and making you angrier.

your aunt has been with you for a while now, and she understands you the most. she gets your moods, motivations, and knows you like the back of her hand. despite everything, she sides with your dad – you feel some sort of betrayal.

your father isn’t a bad guy, but being mad at him makes you forget that for a bit.

“he doesn’t know shit,” you mutter, “spiderwoman isn’t danger.”

sitting up again, you stare at the floor as you recollect yourself.

you groan again, feeling cramped up in the room. your thoughts feel like a stormy cloud over your head and the thought of being in the same living space with your dad only frustrates you more.

quickly, you grab your phone and keys, rushing out your room and down the hall. your aunt and dad stop conversing momentarily as they watch you unlock the door.

“what do you think you’re doing y/n?” your dad questions, watching you closely. you don’t respond, instead sending him a small look before opening the door, and he seems to lose it. “where the hell are you–”

his wrist is restrained and tugged at as you exit the apartment. your dad looks back to see your aunt – his sister – holding him back. she shakes her head and stops him, softly saying, “don’t, just let her.”

“i can’t just–”

“you’re so uptight, just let her be. she’s overstimulated and needs some time.”

he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking back at the door. his body relaxes, almost going limp as he sits down next to your aunt. “i’m just worried for her.”

“she’ll be fine, just take it easy. i’m worried about her too.”

–

you’ve made it a few blocks away with no idea in mind. you don’t have your wallet or anything, just a heavy heart and clouded mind – and after hearing your stomach rumble, almost an empty stomach too.

it’s still busy during the late evening. people are making their way home after staying late at work, families of three or four linger together, and friends eat ice cream on the benches. you’re trying to find a place that brings you peace. the nearby bookstore, the same one you grew up visiting, pops into your head. it never fails to bring you relaxation, a sort of sanctuary to you.

one more block and you’ve turned to meet the entrance of the bookstore, it closes in less than an hour – that’s more than enough time to cruise around. stepping inside you’re met with the strangely nice smell of books, a small smile forms on your lips.

you make your way over to the graphic novels, sliding your fingers along the spines as you walk through. you’ve already read most of them, and tonight's mood doesn’t really call for this type of reading. the next section you visit is where your favorite poems and literature are found. you scan the shelves closely before picking out a small book filled with a collection of poems you haven’t seen before. flipping through it, you read every other page, admiring the works.

you grab another book before heading to your favorite spot, the little corner away from the shelves near the window.

what you don’t expect to see is someone in your usual spot, slumped against the wall, sleeping with a book in their hand. you squint your eyes as you catch sight of the person, then look closer, realizing it isn’t just anyone: it’s minji.

minji’s always been alluring in your eyes, not just physically but her as a person drew you in a bit. she’d always stumble on her words and had this weird, adorable charm to her with every interaction. plus, she was smart and sweet, but you never had the chance to talk to her as much as you’d like to – even if you were to, you were always a little nervous yourself. seeing her now, she looks especially cute, reminding you of how she makes your heart beat slightly faster everytime you see her.

she’s in a black hoodie and jeans, breathing slowly with her head angled down and her lips slightly parted. her glasses are almost at the tip of her nose and her hair is tied up in a casual bun. you’ve always caught her sleeping in class at least twice a week from afar, you never realized how pretty she looked up close.

you hesitate, unsure whether to wake her or not. glancing down at your phone to check the time, you decide you’ll wake her before the store closes.

to pass the time, you continue to read, marvelled at certain pieces and snapping pictures here and there. this lasts twenty minutes, you almost forget about the time, but minji crosses your mind as you read a certain poem and it prompts you to check your phone and look back at the girl.

you shake her lightly, hearing her groan despite not budging. you squeeze her shoulder and she still doesn’t wake up, so you opt to pinch her cheeks, which stirs her awake.

“hm?” she mutters, blinking a couple times.

“morning minji.”

“y/n, hi, what– how did you get here? what time is it…”

she hears you giggle before responding, “the place closes in ten minutes. i usually read in this space but when i came over i saw you sleeping, so i just stayed close until it got late.”

“you did?” you stayed by minji while she slept, how crazy is that? minji pushes her glasses up. “thank you for waking me up.”

“it’s nothing, but we should probably head out before they kick us out.”

“yeah, that sounds good.”

minji follows you towards the section where you got the book you were reading. she watches as you carefully put the book back in its place, and then you lead her out of the bookstore, saying goodnight to the staff sweetly and waving. minji can only smile and admire until you’re both outside.

you look both ways, then your stomach rumbles. your cheeks warm up and you embarrassingly mumble, “sorry, i haven’t eaten yet.”

“you haven’t?” minji questions.

“no. i’ll eat later, i don’t have my wallet on me.”

“but your stomach just rumbled, you should really eat.”

“it’s whatever.”

“no,” minji shakes her head, then looks at you seriously. “it’s not whatever, let me buy you something.” she says, a little shocked that she even had the confidence to say that. “you need to eat.”

“it’s fine, i–”

“come on, let’s go. the convenience store is at the end of the block.”

“i don’t have my wallet minji.”

“i’ll pay.”

“you’re not paying for me.”

“yes i am. do you want those pictures or…?” minji smirks slightly and you surrender because it makes you feel oddly nervous and warm inside.

“fine.” you respond, shoulders sinking as minji starts to walk in the direction of the convenience store.

the two of you make your way inside, wandering around and browsing the cheaper options. minji grabs a packet of ramen and some green tea, while you find a chicken sandwich and peach tea. after being rung up by the cashier, you head towards the area to prepare minji’s ramen. as you glance at the food in your hands, you feel a pang of guilt, knowing she bought it for you.

minji’s pouring hot water into the bowl while you speak, “i’ll pay you back.”

“it’s nothing, don’t.”

“stop, i will.”

“don’t.” minji shrugs, then uses a chopstick to stir the noodles around. she puts a sauce packet in and mixes again, then looks at you with a small smile. “it’s nothing, seriously. i haven’t eaten dinner yet either, your company is enough.”

“is it?”

she finds herself blushing a little. “um, yeah, yes.”

“oh.” your lips start to turn up. “yours is great too.”

minji turns back to the bowl of ramen because she’s a little embarrassed, but also because her dinner is finished.

the two of you sit at the counters inside the store and start to eat. it’s silent for a while, but there’s nothing wrong with that. you feel happy just being next to her, and the sandwich tastes better than usual.

“why didn’t you eat before?” minji asks you while you’re still chewing.

you take a moment to swallow before answering, “i kind of… ran away for a bit.”

“you snuck out?”

“no, my dad saw me leave. i think my aunt held him back.”

“oh.” minji looks away from you and out the window. “did something happen?” she starts, but stops herself soon after. “i mean you don’t have to tell me of course, i was just curious.”

“it’s fine, my dad and i got into a little disagreement, that’s all.” you see, a little bothered by it in minji’s eyes, but she doesn’t push further. you take a sip of your tea and turn to look at minji. “how long were you at the bookstore?”

“oh, um.” she laughs nervously. “i was reading for half an hour, then fell asleep. you woke me up a few hours after.”

“you were asleep for hours there?”

“only two!” she quickly defends, making you giggle. “i’m just… tired these days.”

you scoff playfully. “doing what?”

minji pauses, trying to formulate an answer. “sleep problems?” it comes out unsure and more like she’s questioning herself. she coughs and says again, firmly, “sleep problems.”

“aw, maybe buy melatonin?”

“my mom isn’t fond of that, she thinks it’ll mess with my health.”

“yeah, my dad thinks that too.”

minji chuckles before slurping up a few more noodles, and you take another bite out of your sandwich.

a few minutes later, you two finish your food and start walking with no destination in mind. the evening chill sets in, and the breeze makes you tense up and shiver. minji notices you clutch your phone tighter as the wind blows against you. you're wearing a baby t-shirt and linen pants, clearly not enough to keep warm in this weather.

“are you cold?”

you shake your head and lie, “no, just a breeze.”

“you look cold. here, i have a long-sleeved shirt under this anyway,” minji says quietly, slipping off her hoodie. she pauses and you do too, then hands it to you. you tilt your head, staring at the piece of clothing, then look back at her. she moves it towards you again, urging you to take it. “i’m warm, you’re not.”

“i am.”

“i didn’t know you could be such a liar, y/n.”

“what?”

“i’m kidding,” she says, then pulls you closer by your wrist. you let her put the hoodie on you, it fits a little large since it’s also oversized on her. “better?”

she looks at you with care in her eyes, you almost stop breathing. the sunset’s glow highlights the curve of her nose and lights up her gaze. all you can think is wow, because wow.

“woah,” you’re a little starstruck. “you’re… gorgeous.”

“i– what? no, where did that come from?”

“sorry, um, i didn’t mean to… it was just in the moment, you know? yeah…” you swallow lightly, and laugh to push away the awkwardness. “thank you. this is much better, i’m warm.��

“that’s good.”

“yeah.”

the two of you continue to walk, with you filling the silence and talking about your classes. minji’s easy to talk to, she’s a great listener and hums at everything before adding her own input. everything she responds with is interesting too, but maybe that’s because she’s minji.

both of you had turned halfway through to start walking in the other direction since you live the same way. minji points at certain stores and spots, sharing short stories and little remarks about memories from each place. her voice is soft and nostalgic, painting vivid pictures of her past experiences as you stroll along together.

you could listen to her all day, or at least a long while. that’s what you realize the more she speaks.

you two reach a point where you need to part ways. minji lives on the right side and you live left, so you two stand at the croner before the crosswalk, looking at each other.

minji pauses you as you start to take off her hoodie, “you can give it back to me tomorrow.”

“what? no way, it’s cold.”

“my home is only five minutes down, it’s fine.”

“you sure?”

“i’m sure.” she adds.

silence follows again for a few seconds, you take the time to scan minji’s face again.

“what happened to your cheek?” you point at the bandage on her cheekbone.

“oh,” minji’s not going to tell you that some idiot decided to throw a piece of building at her and scratch her skin. “um, knife?” she clears her throat. “knife.”

“how did the knife get up there?”

minji tries hard to conjure a response, looking down before her eyes light up after a lie forms.

“i had it in my hand while trying to scratch an itch.”

“mhm, okay.” you say squinting your eyes at her and giggling.

minji looks at the bandage on your neck, remembering how, where, and why you had hurt yourself there. it’s odd that you look at her with the same admiration even when she’s out of teh suit – when she’s just minji and not some ‘hero’ in your eyes.

“what happened to your neck?”

“some guy.” you play it off like you didn’t almost get your throat sliced. “you probably heard the story.”

“i didn’t.” she didn’t need to, minji had been part of the story.

“oh,” your fingers raise and brush against the bandage as you recall, “spiderwoman saved me, but this guy managed to graze me.”

minji hums and nods, then steps closer, reaching her hand out to gently put her finger on it. you stiffen.

“were you scared?” minji asks, finger sliding down the bandage in a way that makes you tingle. “it must’ve been scary.”

you shake your head. “spiderwoman was there, i knew she’d come through.”

“right.” minji says lowly, then takes her finger off of you. she stares at you for a good five seconds before smiling softly. “i’ll um, i’ll see you.”

“yeah, thanks.”

“get home safe, text me when you get– oh, wait.” she furrows her brows before pulling out her phone. “i don’t have your um…” her voice quiets down to something close to a whisper, “--your number.”

“you can have it, if that’s what you’re trying to ask.”

“yeah, um, i just wanted to make sure you got home safe.” minji says, because if anything were to happen to you she’d do more than just web some dumbass down. they’d probably be left with a little bruise or two, maybe even left upside down against a wall or tree. minji continues, “if that’s alright with you.”

“that’s perfect.” you type in your number and smile at her once more before finally adding, “thank you for the hoodie, good night minji.”

“goodnight y/n.”

with that, you two depart, and you look back once to see her walking in the other direction. when you turn back, putting your hands in the pocket of minji’s hoodie, you realize: minji’s wonderful.

the image of her smiling and puffing her lips out when you tease her makes you grin to yourself. you can’t tell if it’s because of her hoodie or her; you’re warm inside and out.

–

minji waits for you at the entrance of the school instead of meeting her friends at their usual spot (if the little corridor by the gym counts as a meetup spot anyway). she looks around, you had texted her that you were almost at school.

she feels a little stupid standing there by herself, especially since your friends are nearby and stealing glances at her, making her shrink in her place a little.

all her worries wash away when you walk through the entrance and scan the room, meeting her eyes and lighting up. you make your way towards her with her hoodie in your arms, then hand it to her.

“thanks again.”

“it’s no problem.”

“i owe you, and for the shoot later today.”

“you don’t owe me anything.” minji smiles at you assuringly. “i’ll um, get going. your friends are all here…” she rubs her neck awkwardly and looks down at the hoodie in her hand.

“oh! i was actually wondering…” she watches you look down at the ground. “do you want to walk around together? we have first block together so… if you don’t mind. i enjoyed being around you last night.”

“you did?” minji looks surprised, she sounds surprised. “i mean, yes. yeah, i’m down, let me text my friends.”

“great.”

“yeah.”

minji can’t fight back the smile that forms on her face and neither can you – you like the sight of it. her gums show a little and you think it’s the most endearing thing in the world.

“by the way, are you and your dad okay? after the argument.. you know?”

“oh, yeah.” you mumble. you and your dad agreed to disagree. “it doesn’t really matter, i’m just grateful you were there to help me feel better.”

“i did?”

“how could you not?”

minji’s adjusting the settings of her camera, eyes squinty as she looks close at the small screen. from afar, you take a few glances throughout your conversation with jungwon and wonyoung.

you watch as minji’s lips pout a little, she has a poker face that would make her seem intimidating and serious if you didn’t know her.

“hello?” jungwon waves a hand in front of your face. you glance away from minji and your attention is back on him, catching the look he shares with wonyoung.

“why are you guys looking at each other like that.”

wonyoung raises her eyebrows, the smirks. “the real question is why are you looking at minji so much?”

“i’m just… you know… she’s– she’s taking long to set up her stuff.”

“it’s been less than three minutes y/n,” jungwon clicks his tongue. “you even ditched us to walk with her, what’s up with that?”

crossing your arms, you respond, “what’s wrong with that? are you jealous?”

“oh not at all, i don’t care y/n. just curious, that’s all.”

“you looked a little too happy in my eyes.” wonyoung teases, smiling knowingly.

“shut up, she’s just really nice, you know…”

“uh huh.” jungwon hums, smiling wider.

before you can scold him, you catch minji looking up and making eye contact with you. today, she’s wearing a flannel over a white tank top, paired with dark jeans to complete the outfit. she looks a little dorky, but you’re into that – she pulls it off effortlessly.

as she starts to walk towards you, jungwon, and wonyoung, you smile wider, waving at her and beckoning her over with your hand. minji greets the others warmly, then glances down at the ground before looking back up at you nervously.

“hi, are you all ready?”

“yeah, i’ll gather the rest.”

“great, you all can just go on with practice and i’ll try to get the best shots i can.”

“that sounds great! thank you again minji, i owe you so much.”

she chuckles, putting a hand on your shoulder and rubbing it lightly. “it’s nothing.” she says, but what’s something is the familiar tingly sensation making you lose balance. jungwon notices the blush on your cheeks, as well at your thrown off composure, fighting back a laugh.

first, you and jungwon have a warm-up match together. minji snaps a few pictures before wonyoung and heeseung join in for a doubles match. after capturing your group, she moves on to the rest of the team, snapping pictures of them in action. her shots capture the players mid-swing, rackets in hand, their faces set with determination. the light filters through the trees, casting a perfect glow over the court, making each photo dynamic and full of energy.

you sit on the side, watching your teammates and minji (mostly minji) at work.

“i’ve never seen you with hearts in your eyes until now.” wonyoung teases, shoving her shoulder against yours.

“shut up,” you groan, putting your hand on her face and pushing her away. “minji’s so sweet, and cute…”

“i knew it!” wonyoung gasps, “you never look at anyone like that. half the school looks at you like that, but you’ve never returned the gesture.”

“there’s no one in the school to look at like that wony.”

“well, now there is.”

you sigh, leaning into your best friend and pouting. minji looks really, really good on the court, the sun hitting her, and all focused on doing what she does best.

“i never realized how gorgeous she was.” you admit, staring harder. “and she’s so nice, like, danielle – the one in student government – she’s mentioned her a few times and only good things have come out her mouth. she’s not lying.”

“what, did you hangout with her or something? like a date?”

“no! no.” you shake your head, then frown slightly. “i mean, i got into a fight again with my dad and ran out the house and then to the bookstore and–”

“slow down.”

“sorry. i don’t know, i ran into her and just being with her made me feel better. it’s crazy because we’ve barely talked before this.”

“hmm…” wonyoung starts to ponder, narrowing her eyes at minji as she shoots a thumbs up in the air. she turns to face you and your best friend, smiling and walking over. “well, seems like you’re fond of her. i guess we’ll have to let time do the work.” she says before minji’s in a range where she can hear the two of you.

minji stands in front of you and wonyoung, grinning as she explains, “i’ve gotten the last shots i think, now a group picture?”

“yes, that would be great.”

“great, if you could get everyone in the middle of the court that would be great.”

you nod, then grab wonyoung eagerly by the wrist and motion for everyone to gather around, just like minji said.

she instructs you all to have the tallest in the back, with you and jungwon in the front together since you two are the captains. minji sets the camera on the tripod, squinting her eyes as she fixes certain things. then, she gives a small thumbs up and says, “smile!”

the whole team says “cheese!” in unison, making minji smile herself. she snaps a few pictures, then urges you all to do something a little sillier. you make a face and stand on your tip toes to wrap and arm around jungwon, making him groan and laugh simultaneously. it’s candid in a way, with everyone being themselves and enjoying the moment.

minji giggles, then raises her hand up to give one last final thumbs up.

the smile on your face fades into something near shock, because minji’s sleeve falls down to just above her elbow, revealing a covered-up patch of skin – goosebumps trail up your spine because that’s the exact same gauze and placement. everything is identical to what you patched up two days ago, your brows furrow upon seeing it.

minji doesn’t seem to notice, instead taking the camera off the tripod and clicking through the photos. the tennis team starts to converse again, but you’re caught up with the injury on minji’s forearm.

you don’t want to jump to conclusions – but you’re kind of doing that.

what doesn’t help minjis case is the fact that she reacts so quickly when a tennis ball flies toward her head. it’s almost unhuman how she manages to dodge it, then catch it right after.

she walks back towards you, then says, “the pictures look great from the little screen, i’ll take a look at them on the laptop and email them to you, yeah?”

you don’t respond for a moment, your eyes on her exposed forearm. you squint harder, thinking of when you patched up spiderwoman, and nothing shakes you from teh fact that that’s the same fucking bandage.

“y/n?”

“oh, yeah, that sounds good.”

“yeah…” minji realizes what you’re staring at, then panics and quickly rolls down her sleeve again. “i um, i just uh, hurt myself.”

“how?” you look up at her, making eye contact. “what happened?”

“brick.” she says quietly, “i tripped and my arm hit the um, the edge of a brick.”

“right, okay.” you still look at her now covered forearm, squinting again. “i hope it feels better.”

“thanks.”

“yeah.”

–

there isn’t a single person you can confide in about your suspicion that minji might be spiderwoman. jungwon would laugh and brush you off, thinking it’s just a wild fantasy. wonyoung would probably call you delusional, yeah, probably.

left with no one to share your thoughts, you resort to lying in bed, eyes wide open, pondering the possibility. the moonlight filters through your window, casting shadows on the ceiling as you replay every clue and coincidence in your mind, trying to make sense of it all.

you grab your phone, searching up “superwoman” to see a very recent article in the first result that comes up titled: spiderwoman caught in a recent face-off with seoul’s most dangerous gang.

you click on a video beneath the headline, watching the scene unfold. spiderwoman performs a series of flips and maneuvers that seem almost unreal. the person filming is either too nervous or simply bad at their job; the footage is shaky, making it hard to follow. you squint at the screen, trying to make out the details, feeling a mix of awe and frustration as spiderwoman's incredible agility and skill are partially obscured by the unsteady camera work.

what you do catch is a dagger being thrown at spiderwoman’s rib, slicing her suit and watching blood seep out as she clutches the wound. you wince from just watching.

spiderwoman fights off the gang members with ease, knocking out three at once by letting them charge her, then jumping up to make them crash to the ground without her laying a finger on them. the last man stares at her in fear, stumbling backward as she steps closer and webs his mouth shut.

the video ends with spiderwoman webbing all the culprits against the city square as the police arrive. there’s sirens and commotion before she turns to see cops with guns pointed at her before swinging off, leaving them frustrated. your dad appears in the frame, cursing under his breath. the civilians around watch in shock and awe, clapping as she swings away.

she swings west, you take note of that.

after clicking out the video realizing that the article had been posted only five minutes ago, you hurriedly grab a hoodie and rush out your room. your aunt isn’t home yet, so no one would notice that you’re out and about.

you rush out the door and and lock your apartment clumsily, missing the keyhole at least twice before getting it. you run towards the elevator, then out of it once you reach the lobby and speed towards your school.

the school you patched spiderwoman up in, the school you and minji attend, is west of the city square. there’s a chance that spiderwoman won’t be there, but after she’s been shown how to get in after hours, there’s also a chance that the wound on her side needs to be patched up there specifically. besides, you’ve given her the secret to getting in.

you get there after running at your fastest pace for five minutes straight, and now you’re breathing heavily outside the entrance of the school. you’re inside in no time (perks of having a keycard from student government) and tiredly rushing towards the nurses office, then heading inside.

minji, however, is at least three steps ahead of you. after being bit by a genetically modified spider, her senses have been enhanced, so she had heard you as soon as you made it past the entrance – without knowing it was you.

when you step inside, there’s no one.

the only thing you can see are bandages messily spread out on the counter and blood on the floor. you let out a breath at the sight of it.

“it’s me, y/n.”

there’s silence for a few seconds before you hear someone landing on the ground behind you, making you yelp from surprise.

“y/n? what are you doing here?”

“i saw your fight in an article.” you start, turning around to face the masked hero. you’re still not one hundred percent sure if it’s minji, but something tells you it’s her. you can’t really explain it. “you’re hurt.”

“a little.”

“that’s a big scratch you have there.” you point out, making minji laugh despite the sharp pain she feels.

“‘you’re smart’.” now it’s her turn to mock your words. you roll your eyes, stepping closer to press your fingers against it, her blood staining your fingers a bit.

“sit down.”

“i don’t need your help.”

“you’re going to end up with a soaked bandaid, spiderwoman. i know what i’m doing, and i’m already here.”

minji inhales sharply when you press against the cut. “fine.” she croaks out.

she sits down on the counter, legs hanging off as you clean around the wound, blood soaking the small towel. you add some disinfectant, hearing her wince lowly and grip the counter not-so-subtly, so you grab her hand, squeezing comfortingly.

“it’s okay, i’m here.” you mumble, looking up at her.

minji feels her heart tighten.

“thank you.”

you hum.

you bandage the wound carefully, relieved it’s not deep enough to require stitches. spiderwoman glances at her rib area, gently sliding her fingers over your handiwork. she looks back at you, a soft smile playing under her mask.

she watches you look back, frowning.

“what’s wrong?” minji asks.

“you’re bleeding.”

“you patched me up.”

shaking your head, you do something that makes minji short-circuit. your hand falls to her jawline, your thumb grazing the edge near her chin before pressing down. minji feels a sharp pain she hadn't noticed before. when you pull your thumb away, you stare at the smear of blood on it, holding it up to show her.

“it wasn’t just your abdomen.” you explain, then the worry fills your eyes again. “you’re bleeding through your mask.”

“oh,”

“can i? i won’t do it all the way, just past your lip to treat the wound.”

minji hesitates, then nods. “yeah, that’s okay. no more than that.”

“of course.”

you tremble a little as you roll up her mask tantalizingly. your fingers meet her skin just barely, but she still hears her breath hitching and her throat drying up.

you’re looking at her exposed lips before you even pay attention to the cut on her jawline. they’re plump and parted before you, catching your eye effortlessly. after gazing for a few seconds longer, you cradle her face in one hand to keep her in place as you dab an alcohol wipe over the cut – she winces.

“sorry.”

“it’s fine.”

a few seconds later and there’s a bandaid on her jawline now, courtesy of you.

she softly rubs the bandaid, then brings her mask back down. she clears her throat,

“thank you.”

“it’s nothing.”

“you didn’t have to.”

“i want to.” your expression is hard to read, a mix of worry and pity, but also admiration. “you’re a hero, you should be treated like one.”

“i just have responsibilities.”

“well, you should be someone’s responsibility too.”

“why yours?”

“because i care – a lot.”

minji stays silent for a while, staring at you through the mask. she feels beyond lucky, a little emotional too. her chest tightens slightly, urging her to look away from you and scoot away.

you frown again.

–

the next day minji shows up next to you nervously with hanni by her side. you’re with jungwon at your locker, conversing with him until you feel a tap on your shoulder. when you turn around, you’re more than happy to see minji.

she has a small cut on her jawline in the same area and with the same bandage. there’s no denying that spiderwoman stands before you, but you’ll let her know a different way.

jungwon watches her hand you a flashdrive, her other hand clutching the strap of her bag.

“um, these are the pictures.” her lips move the same way as spiderwomans, and they’re just as alluring. “ ihave the edited and original versions of each, just tell me which one you like the most.”

without warning, you reach over and hug her. she widens her eyes, and so do hanni and jungwon as they watch everything unfold. you purposely slide your hand over the wound on her rib area, pressing on it slightly and hearing her sharply exhale in your ear.

it’s her, it’s definitely her – you couldn’t be any happier that it’s her. minji’s sweet, caring, and very attentive, her personality fits her alter ego perfectly.

you pull away from her and smile, your hands gently resting on her forearm, holding her in place. minji feels a rush of warmth hit her cheeks like a summer heatwave, her heart pounding in her chest.

“you’re literally the best, thank you minji.”

“y-yeah, it’s no problem.”

hanni looks dumbfounded watching the exchange. she turns to minji after you walk away with jungwon, and her best friend is smiling like an idiot. hanni almost gags.

–

a week passes by, you and minji have spent more mornings before class together, even conversing after school time to time.

minji seems to have healed, the bandage on her cheekbone is gone and there’s a faint line that indicates a former cut on her face, but it’s not noticeable under her concealer. you’re happy to see that she’s getting better physically – much faster than the normal person, you might add.

(because she’s spiderwoman, you know she’s spiderwoman.)

you’ve spent more time admiring minji, your crush on her growing deeper and it almost makes you forget that she has a whole other persona. you can’t remember a single thing about the arachnid while staring at her brown eyes and pretty pink lips.

–

there’s not much crime for a little while, not until two weeks after the night you had patched up spiderwoman (kim minji, the prettiest girl in the school).

a video on instagram reaches four thousand views in three minutes, the video showing spiderwoman leaping off a building and knocking down some lunatic with legs made of metal. some scientists really need to stay thinking inside the box, because giving yourself additional limbs to steal from organizations is just insane.

you watch as spiderwoman gets tackled to the ground at ador labs, grappling with manmade tentacle arms using her enhanced strength. sitting on the edge of your bed, you bite the inside of your lip when you see her shoulder get cut by the edge of a mechanical hand.

thankfully, the police arrive just in time to assist. they shoot at the villain, whose face bears an uncanny resemblance to the ceo of jyp manufacturing, distracting him long enough for spiderwoman to kick him off and shoot webs at his goggles.

the person recording has a steadier hand than the last, capturing the way spiderwoman uses her webs to launch herself at the man and kick him in the chest. she quickly rips off two of the tentacles, causing the remaining ones to shut down.

she collapses to the ground, clearly exhausted, but scrambles back up and onto her feet as the police start to close in on her. she’s swift and smart, easily fleeing the scene in no time.

you had left your apartment the moment the video ended, and now you find yourself back at school, catching your breath and processing everything you just witnessed as yourush towards the nurses office.

opening the door, you catch spiderwoman sitting on the floor and leaned against the counter tiredly, clutching her shoulder.

“my god,”

“you came.” she says, practically a breath.

“of course i did, i saw the video.”

“i’m so tired.”

“and you’re hurt.”

“it’s not that bad actually, this one’s actually a scratch.”

“bullshit.” you mumble, quickly rushing over to tend to her wound.

the routine unfolds without much change: you gently clean away the blood, carefully applying disinfectant. minji fights to suppress her cries of pain, but the discomfort is clear in the way her body tenses and reacts. you offer her comfort, your hand resting reassuringly over hers. through the mask, minji gazes at you with a mixture of awe and gratitude, feeling like she’s witnessed rain after a drought.

“thank you.”

“it’s nothing.” you’ve said it countless times, minji’s said it back to you when she was just minji and not someone under a suit that could swing webs, save the day, and get hurt for you to take care of her. “i mean it.”

you sit beside her, your arms pressing comfortably against each other, and lean your head against the cabinet door beneath the counter.

minji—spiderwoman—is the first to turn her head and look at you. she visibly relaxes as her gaze settles on your side profile. you turn to meet her eyes, offering a soft sigh, feeling a shared calm in the quiet space between you.

“can i,” your voice quiets down to something near a hum. “can i kiss you?”

“w-what?” minji feels her throat go dry and blood rushing to her cheeks, it’s so sudden, you must be more exhausted than her. “i, um, i don’t know if you’d like that. you barely know me.”

“sure i would, spiderwoman.”

minji doesn’t stop you when you reach over to the bottom of her mask, rolling it up. she could stop you, but she’s stuck in place, unable to move despite how risky it is for you to find out who she really is.

there’s no chance you’d stick with her if you knew who she really was, she’s been too comfortable hiding behind this “spiderwoman” persona, hiding who she really is.

you roll the mask up less than halfway, the bottom half of her face exposed to you. the wind hits her skin and she shivers.

minji feels transparent. “i, um–”

“pretty,” you stare hard at her lops, then lean closer. “you’re so pretty.”

“you haven’t seen my whole face.”

“and yet you’re still kissable.”

“y/n, i—“ she cuts herself off, words stopping at her throat as you tilt your head and place a hand where her jaw meets her neck. she begins again, unknowingly leaning closer. “i don’t think you’d be happy with the person under the suit.” she mutters quietly.

“sure i would,” you murmur, then press your lips against hers softly. you feel her kiss back and smile into her. you part just barely, your lips ghosting hers, “kim minji.”

minji hums surprisingly when you kiss her again, still reciprocating but quickly pulling away with a gasp.

“w-what? how did—“ she clears her throat, “who’s kim minji?”

you don’t respond to her question, instead, reaching for the edge of her partially rolled-up mask and laughing softly.

“can i?”

“um,” minji folds when you look at her like that, eyes pleading and face pretty as the moon shines through the window and highlights your features. “yeah…”

you smile at her, removing the mask off her head fully to see your classmate and crush under it. she’s battered up and her hair is messy because of the mask, plus, she looks fatigued. despite this, she just looks cuter in your eyes.

without warning, you lean in again, pressing your lips against hers. minjis eyes widen momentarily before she sinks into your touch, placing a hand on your cheek and melting into you.

when you two pull away again, you grin at the way the moon shines on her, exposing the deep blush on her cheeks and the nervousness in her features.

“why wouldn’t i want to kiss you?”

“how did you— how’d you find out?”

you shrug. “i’ve liked you for a while now, i didn’t even know it until the night you gave me your hoodie. i mean, i always thought you were cute. i paid more attention to you and all the bruises and scars added up, and i could recognize those lips from a mile away.”

she blushes intensely, the manages to breathe out a small “oh.”

“mhm.” you hum once more before hastily pecking her lips. “you’re so cute.”

“wait, you actually… do you really like me?”

“of course i do minji.”

“it’s not becuase im spiderwoman, right?”

“no,” you grin at her dumb expression. “i like spiderwoman because she’s you, minji.”

“seriously?”

you groan, looking at her with a stupid ‘are you serious’ expression painted on your face. “do i need to kiss you again?”

“um,” minji starts, but stops herself from being so dense. “yeah, please.”

“okay.” you respond happily, cupping her cheek and closing the distance again.

you smell like vanilla and feel like snowflakes in the spring. as you cradle her jaw and kiss her softly, minji tries to figure out if she’s dreaming. your arms wrap around her neck, pulling her closer. minji's lips gently hold your top lip, while you play with the ends of her hair, twirling it between your fingers.

“hey, minji?” you pull away to softly mumble against her lips, then minji hums in response. “let’s go out sometime, is that okay?”

“of course, yeah, please.” she sighs lovingly.

yeah, it’s not a dream.

it can’t be because you pull away and look at her like she’s the prettiest flower in a field of nothing. you smile at her, holding her face in your hands like she’s everything you’ve ever wanted and more.

#kpop x reader #newjeans imagines #newjeans minji #newjeans x reader #new jeans x reader #kim minji x reader #minji x reader #kim minji

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katsu28 · 2 months ago

Text

summer's golden haze - chapter five

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: a day trip to ibiza, a nightclub, and max—who can't keep his mouth shut. (5.3k)

a/n: apologies for the lack of new chapters these past few months! writer’s block is such a bitch but i’m happy to say that i am back and working on this series as best i can <3

previous chapter | masterlist

Everything people say about time flying when you’re having fun has never been truer. You’ve developed a close friendship with Lando and his friends, and something even better with the boy himself.

You’d say you were surprised at how fast you’ve fallen for him, but you’d be lying. Sure, you haven’t known him long at all, but it wasn’t hard to figure out that Lando Norris really was that missing thing in your life. He slots in like he was meant to, just as you hoped he would.

You’ve all found yourselves spending more time at their place than yours because it’s just nicer. Today is no different.

Lando’s chin sits hooked over your shoulder comfortably, stubble on his face a little scratchy, but it doesn’t annoy you. Especially not with the way the thumb of his hand on your waist is rubbing circles into the sliver of bare skin between your top and shorts.

He’s warm to the touch, but not unbearably so, more like a comforting warmth draped against you as he nuzzles closer.

He likes to be close to you, you've learned very quickly—more often than not always having some part of him touching you. Fingers intertwined with yours, an arm slung over your shoulders, a hand on your waist. When you're sitting, it's a thigh pressed against yours, a warm palm blanketing your knee.

Right now, he’s decided on sharing the same sun lounger as you, wedged himself in behind you comfortably.

Normally, you might’ve been put off by the sheer amount of casual physical affection he shows, but you can’t bring yourself to mind it. You want to be close to him all the time too, you’re just taking a little longer to warm up to instigating it.

“What’re you lot up to tomorrow?” He asks casually, walking his fingers down your arm.

“Mm, nothing probably. Might just do a beach day and chill out. Maybe take a little walk, I dunno.” You shrug. “You?”

“Flying to Ibiza for the day. My mate Martin’s doing a DJ thing at a club there, figured we’d go support a friend.”

You pout up at him, cooing. “You guys are so sweet.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright. Come off it now.” He rolls his eyes, pinching your hip. You squirm at the ticklish feeling, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek. He perks up then, and you swear you can almost see the gears turning in his brain. “Would you guys wanna come with us? We could hit up the beach together, hit up Martin’s gig at night, then fly back here afterwards.”

“It’s a boys’ day trip, we wouldn’t want to crash it,” You insist, shaking your head. “We’ll see each other when you get back.”

“But I’ll miss you.” He frowns, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“I think you’ll be fine.”

He buries his nose into the crook of your neck, muffling his response. “No, I think I might die.”

It’s kind of sweet, you think, that Lando gets so pouty over not getting to see you for just a day. One might call him clingy, but you find it cute.

You attest it to the two of you still being in the honeymoon phase of your relationship, and it makes you happy, but something else gnaws at your stomach. You’re not even sure what it is.

Before you can say anything, he angles his head towards the rest of the group, covering your ears gently before shouting, “Oi! We’re all going to Ibiza tomorrow, it’s been settled already. We’ll swing round yours to pick you girls up, then head to the airport.”

He gets no objections from anyone, which you didn’t think he would, and it makes him beam.

You try to see it from his perspective. Sun, sand, beautiful views. The two of you get to spend the day together on the gorgeous beaches of Ibiza. If you put aside your worries, everything sounds wonderful.

So why do you have this nagging feeling this isn't going to go as smoothly as Lando says it will?

-------

It seems like you’ve just blinked and suddenly it’s the next morning and you’re heading into the hangar of a private airstrip.

The sun has barely begun to peek over the horizon, and honestly, you’re still half asleep. Most of your weight is leaned against Lando’s shoulder, who’s got a strong arm slung around your waist even as he chats away with his boys on the way in.

You haven’t packed much at all, just a bag with a nicer outfit you can change into before going to the club. Lando insisted on carrying it for you, so it sits looped over his other shoulder.

You aren’t sure what you were expecting when he’d brought up flying to Ibiza just for the day, but for some reason, the private jet your gaze lands on as soon as you enter the hangar has you a bit stunned for words. The unfamiliarity of your surroundings wakes you up even more as you ascend the stairs onto the jet.

A long sofa stretches across the wall opposite you, sleek white leather to match the cushy armchair you’ve settled into. Elegant polished dark wood tables separate the banks of chairs, and there’s a fully stocked bar at the back. Even the lighting of the cabin screams money, not those awful dim blue lights on commercial airlines.

This is the kind of thing you’ve only seen in movies, and now here you are about to enjoy a few hours on one with your very new, very rich boyfriend. It feels unreal, and honestly a little daunting.

Then in the back of your mind, you remember that this is probably just how his life is. Private jets and day trips to beautiful places, anything he wants anytime he wants it.

It’s one of two thoughts echoing through your head through the whole flight, the second one being that you don’t belong here. You don’t ride along in chartered jets, or go on impromptu day trips to beautiful islands. This is all completely uncharted territory for you and it makes your stomach twist, but you’re able to just pass it off as being a nervous flier.

Lando holds your hand, makes sure you’re comfortable the whole time, and that’s that. There’s no need to worry him about what’s running rampant through your mind.

Thankfully, you fall asleep not too long into the flight, and you don’t wake up until you’re on the ground in Ibiza. From there, it feels like a whirlwind has taken hold of you. You’re put into a car, driving, driving, driving god knows where.

Lando won’t tell you a thing, just kisses your cheek and tells you not to worry. And just when you think you’re at your destination, you’re squeezed into a golf cart that eventually drops you off at a seemingly private marina.

A large yacht sits before you, pristine white and polished to perfection. Lando beams, holding his arms out to the side like a game show host. “Ta-da! Look what we got for the day!”

You’re at a loss for words. When he’d agreed to a joint beach day, you thought you’d actually be going to…well, a beach.

“How the fuck did you manage to charter a yacht on such short notice?” Maren asks, clearly disbelieving.

Lando aims a look at her over his sunglasses, arching a brow. “What, like it’s hard?”

“Don’t do Elle Woods. You can’t pull it off,” Samira chimes in, to which Max nods his agreement.

“Everyone’s a critic nowadays,” Lando mutters under his breath, flipping both of them off. “Just get on the boat, dream killers!”

Your friends seem to be taking it in a much better stride than you are, because they go exploring the moment they climb right on alongside the rest of the boys, chattering excitedly. You, on the other hand, have to take a moment after Lando helps you on.

“So? What do you think?” He asks earnestly, rocking on the balls of his feet.

“It’s gorgeous,” You admit, chuckling nervously. “I didn’t know you were planning on getting a yacht.”

“Yeah, I got it so we could have the day to ourselves. Dock somewhere remote, swim and have fun without anyone else around. I know how important privacy is to you, and I wanted you to be able to relax today.”

It hits you like a heavyweight right then. Lando did this for you.

Went through all these last minute hoops that probably cost a fortune just so you’d feel comfortable. It has to be the sweetest, albeit most outrageous, thing anyone’s ever done for you.

You close the distance between you in two steps, throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. The force of it makes him stumble back a little bit, but he’s quick to recover, nuzzling deep into the crook of your neck with a smile you can feel pressed against your skin.

“That was one hell of a thank you,” He breathes. You shrug innocently and he laughs, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “Ready to have some fun?”

Turns out fun means putting an anchor down just off the shore of some small island not too far away. The day is starting to heat up a bit, perfect for you and the girls to stretch out on the cushioned benches and soak up the sun whilst the boys mess around in the water off the back of the boat.

You’re not sure how long you lay there, but you’re about ready to drift off when you feel something on your face. A drop of water hits you square in the forehead, another hits your cheek, and it makes you peek one eye open.

Lando stands right above you, beaming down at you as he drips water everywhere.

“Hi. Water’s nice,” He says, shaking his hair out not unlike a dog would shake out its fur. Droplets spray all over you with the action, making you squeeze your eyes shut momentarily.

You wipe the water off your face with an amused chuckle. “Yeah, I think I can tell. Thanks for that, by the way.”

“You should come in.”

“Maybe later. My sunscreen might not be dry yet.”

“I think it’s plenty dry.”

You arch a brow at his insistence, suspicious of the mischievous smile curving his lips, the glint in his eyes. He’s got something in that mind of his, and you’re starting to grasp what it might be. You sit up, inching away from him as he creeps closer. “Stop it. Lando, no. Don’t even think about it!”

He flops on top of you gently, enough to make you roll your eyes but not enough to smother you. “Lovely place to have a lay, innit?” He says innocently, squinting down at you.

“It was,” You groan dramatically, wrinkling your nose at the puddle of water beginning to pool around you. “Now I’m being crushed.”

“Are you calling me fat?”

“No, no, the words you're looking for are big and strong and handsome. Did I mention the word strong?”

“Twice, but I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.”

“Careful, or I might start to think you have a praise kink,” You joke. Though judging by the immediate blush that blooms across his cheeks and ears, you might’ve just discovered something about your boyfriend. “Oh! You—I didn’t mean it like—”

His lips press against yours before you can finish your sentence as if to deter you from finishing your sentence, and you forget what you were saying in the first place. You’ve found that this is usually the case any time Lando kisses you, any and all previous thoughts disappearing without a trace only to be taken up by one singular thing—him.

“Get a room, you two!” Samira grumbles, bringing you back to reality. “Happy for you and all, but I’m trying to sleep over here.”

Right.

You’d forgotten you were laying right next to her. Evidently Lando has too, because he whines something unintelligible, face hot against your bare skin as he buries his face into the crook of your neck in embarrassment.

“Sorry,” You mumble, giving Lando a pat on the back to make him get off you. He does so, but not without a pout. The quick kiss you press to his shoulder when you pull yourself into an upright position is enough to settle him.

He tilts his head invitingly, eyes bright now. “Come swim?”

“Is the water nice?”

“It’d be nicer if you were in it.”

“I’m serious, Lando! Is it cold?”

“Guess you’ll just have to jump in and see.” He shrugs, winks at you playfully before ambling away.

You can’t help but admire Lando as he walks away from you, broad shoulders on full display, muscles shifting as he stretches his arms high over his head. Moles dot the expanse of his back, and it makes you want to trace your fingers along his tanned skin like you’re playing connect the dots.

You’re expecting him to head for the back of the boat, but he goes towards the ladder heading up to the roof of the boat.

“Now what exactly do you think you’re doing?” You call after him, raising your hand to block the sun shining in your eyes.

“Jumping off the roof!”

“Are you serious?”

“It’s totally safe! I’ve done it before,” Lando reasons, waiting until he reaches the top of the ladder to offer you a smile. Somehow that doesn’t make you feel any better about him taking a flying leap from that high. “Wanna give it a go?”

The words fuck and no teeter at the very tip of your tongue, but he’s grinning so big, and you’d be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t at least a little bit intrigued.

Jumping off the roof of a yacht into crystal clear waters isn’t something you’ve ever thought you’d do, but then again, you’ve been doing a lot of things you never thought you’d do on this trip.

“If I die, I’m haunting your ass forever,” You warn. Once you’re up the ladder on your own, you accept his outstretched hand onto the roof as he leads you carefully to the edge, fingers firmly tangled with yours.

“There’s no one I’d rather be haunted by.”

He leaps, taking you with him before you can even think of a response, and for a few moments, you feel weightless, falling through the air with nothing but Lando’s hand to ground you. It feels less terrifying and more freeing than you’d thought.

You squeeze your eyes shut just before you hit the water, keeping them closed as you sink deeper and deeper. Lando’s hand leaves yours, but you don’t panic. You let yourself float, reveling in the quiet of being underwater until you start to feel it in your chest, and only then do you push towards the surface in a flume of bubbles.

The breath of air you inhale once you get above water is refreshing, and you tip your chin towards the sky, taking in the warm sunlight with a sigh. You wipe away the water cascading down your face before paddling back towards the boat, where Lando is sitting with his legs hanging off the back of it, waving at you.

“What’d you think?” He asks earnestly once he’s pulled you out of the water to sit next to him.

“That was…exhilarating.”

“See, I told you it was fun! Stick with me, baby, I’ll show you the world.”

Somehow, you don’t doubt that. If you’re an example of playing it safe, Lando is the definition of full sending it, impulse and chaos behind a handsome face.

-------

The day flies by, and before you know it, it’s time to head back to shore. Thankfully, the yacht is well equipped with a shower in the bathroom, so you’re able to freshen up nicely when the time comes.

Lando lets out a low whistle when you emerge back out onto the deck, eyes dragging down your whole body, drinking in the sight of you with his lower lip tugged between his teeth. The intensity of his gaze sends a shiver down your spine, makes your cheeks flame hot.

“Damn, you’re hot, girl!” He grins, winking at you.

“Stop it,” You huff, adjusting the strap of your heel.

“What? It’s true! Can’t I pay my hot girlfriend a compliment?” He argues, looking absolutely giddy. “C’mon, give me a spin.” You roll your eyes but oblige, and he whistles again. “My god, I’m a lucky guy.”

“You’re so ridiculous,” You chuckle, letting yourself be tucked under his arm as you make your way to join the rest of your friends.

“If ridiculous means obsessed with you, then yes, I am ridiculous.”

The place is only a stone’s throw away from the public beach near the marina and already bouncing when you get there. You’re expecting to fold into the crowd of people, but Lando skirts around it, heading for the very front of the giant area, towards the DJ box.

Maren’s hand clamps around your arm, squeezing tightly. “That’s Martin fucking Garrix!” She hisses, jutting her chin towards the stage aggressively. “You didn’t tell us Lando’s friend Martin was Martin fucking Garrix!”

“He didn’t even tell me, how was I supposed to know?!” is all you can utter back in response.

You’re just as taken by surprise as she is. You’d have never expected Lando’s friend Martin to be Martin Garrix. It’s not a connection you would’ve made at all, but you keep forgetting Lando is actually famous. Of course he has famous friends.

Martin gestures for one of the other people there to take over the set, swapping out to come say hello as soon as he spots Lando. Both boys sport identical massive smiles.

“Mate, it is good to see you again,” He says earnestly, bringing Lando into a tight hug. “I’ve been meaning to make it out to a race! You look great out there, though.”

Lando shrugs, enthusiasm flickering a little at the mention of work, but only for a split second. “Could be doing better, but yeah, cheers!”

Martin’s eyes flick over to you and he must get the sense that you’re a little nervous, because his smile turns more polite. “See you’ve made some new friends. Nice to meet you all, I’m Martin.” Then he notices how Lando’s moved closer to be next to you and you’re sure he’s already got things figured out. “Enjoy the set! I’m sure Lando will take good care of you.”

A few drinks in your system helps relax the knot of nerves sitting on your chest a significant amount, enough so to where you’ve actually started to enjoy yourself.

Lando’s hands slide around your waist from behind to sit at your hips, chest pressed up against your back as his chin drops down to nestle in the crook of your neck. He moves with the beat and you find yourself following, guided by his firm grip.

It’s so easy to get lost in him. You want to let yourself get lost in him, let yourself sink back into him and let your inhibitions free. But you can’t.

Anyone can see you right now, seeing as you’re not exactly in a private place. You’re tucked off to the side, partially obscured by Martin’s booth and entourage, but it wouldn’t be hard for someone to take a good look and recognize Lando, even with the smoke and flashing lights.

It’s risky to stay like this, and you want to tell him that, but then his lips press against the skin of your shoulder tenderly and your brain nearly short circuits. Heat blooms where he kisses you, traveling up to your cheeks and down to your toes like you've just been standing too close to a flickering fire.

It isn’t until his nose nudges in right behind your ear, and his warm breath fans across your heated skin, that you suddenly feel like you can’t breathe. The loud music dulls down into background noise to the pounding of your heart in your ears.

Taking a shuddering inhale, you wriggle free of Lando’s grip, mumbling something to him about needing air as best you can and taking off before he can figure out what’s happening.

You squeeze through the crowd rather forcefully, just needing to get somewhere without people, somewhere quiet where you can catch your breath and calm yourself down.

Somehow you find yourself back at the beach, throwing yourself down onto a bench and burying your face into your hands with a frustrated, strangled groan.

You don’t even know what’s wrong. Everything is good—you’re with your best friends, with Lando, and you’re supposed to be having fun. So why do you feel like you’re not supposed to be here?

The answer is a mystery even to you.

Watching the gentle waves lap over the shore proves rather soothing, a repetitive back and forth that helps ease your mind just the slightest bit. Only a few people mill around at this time of night, and they pay you no notice. You’re free to drown in your own thoughts without any of them being any the wiser.

Footsteps approach some time later. How long, you’re not exactly sure—wallowing in your own self pity feels timeless. The tips of a familiar pair of trainers step into your field of vision, and you make yourself let your gaze follow up to see the extremely concerned face of their owner.

Lando doesn’t say anything when you meet his eyes, just holds out his hand for you to take. When all you do is blink at him, then he speaks. “C’mon, let’s take a walk.” He tilts his head over his shoulder, towards the beach behind him.

“I can’t walk on sand in these heels,” You sniff, scowling a little bit. It’s a shit excuse, you know that, but you don’t feel like being very cooperative right now.

“I’ll hold them,” He replies, toeing off his own shoes first. You give in almost too easily, slipping off yours to give to him and accepting his other hand up. His fingers immediately intertwine with yours, tugging you closer to him as you step into the sand.

You walk along the shore for a while before either of you feel like saying anything, and it’s him who speaks first.

“Are you alright, love?” He asks gently. Rather than saying anything, you press your lips together. “C’mon, will you talk to me? Please?” His voice is so soft, so full of genuine concern for you it makes you start to feel bad. “I think it’ll make you feel better, instead of holding everything in.”

“All of this—the jet, the yacht, everything—it’s a lot to take in,” You admit quietly, staring hard at the sand in front of you. “And I know you did it for me, so I’d feel comfortable, and I love how thoughtful you are when it comes to these things. But I…this is all completely new for me. Like, I can’t help but feel like such an outsider.”

Lando’s expression crumples. “Oh. I didn’t mean to—that wasn’t my intention. To make you feel like you don’t belong.”

“You don’t need to be sorry. It’s not you, it’s me.”

“This sounds like the start of a romcom breakup scene,” He says, then he freezes, brows furrowing. “Wait, is this—”

“No! No, I’m not breaking up with you. I’m just…saying things.”

“Okay.” He nods, looking thoughtful. “How can I fix this, how can I help with what you’re feeling?”

You smile at him, grateful that he’s asking even though there isn’t anything for him to do about how you’re feeling. Putting it out there is already starting to help, actually. You were scared about your thoughts and feelings being cast aside, but Lando hasn’t done that. He’s nothing but kind and caring about it. About you.

“I’m fine, Lando. Thank you though, you’re sweet,” You assure him, kissing his cheek. “Mind if we walk a little longer before going back to Martin’s set?”

“We don’t have to go back,” He suggests. “We can stay here, go somewhere else, anything you want.”

“I want to go back. It’ll be fun,” You say, nodding firmly. The action is meant to reassure yourself more so than Lando, but he’s the one who looks wary.

His head cocks to the side, brows furrowing in gentle caution. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

-------

The jet is quiet on the way back to Greece after Martin’s gig lets out, with good reason. It’s late at night, bordering on very early morning, and everyone’s asleep except you and Max, who’s on the phone with his girlfriend.

Judging by the way Lando immediately found his way into your space as soon as you all settled in for the flight and promptly conked out not five minutes later, he's exhausted.

You glance down at the boy currently snoozing away curled up with his head in your lap, one of your hands clutched between both of his. His chest rises and falls rhythmically in his sleep, long lashes fluttering against the tops of his cheekbones.

Honestly, you don’t think you’ve ever been as content with someone as you are now with Lando. Even though things between you are still new, you feel like you really can be yourself without judgement around him too. And that talk you’d had at the beach has definitely lifted the weight off your shoulders a good amount.

Still, there’s something else you have to get off your chest. You turn your gaze on the only other person you can talk to right now, the one person you do want to talk to.

Max ends his call shortly after with a quiet love you, see you soon, catching your eye with a sheepish smile as he sets the phone down on the table. “Pietra says hi. She’s looking forward to meeting you guys when she flies in.”

“We’re excited to meet her too, she sounds amazing.”

“Yeah, she is,” Max sighs. Then he squints at you, like he knows something is amiss. “Is everything alright? You look like you’ve got something on your mind.”

You nod carefully, absentmindedly winding one of Lando’s springy curls around your finger. He exhales a little harder in his sleep when you let it bounce back into place but doesn’t wake up, just snuggles deeper into you. “It’s kind of a weird thing to bring up, but I feel like I have to ask.”

“Anything, go ahead. We’re friends, aren’t we?” It’s actually reassuring to know that Max’s opinion on you hasn’t changed since you’d gotten together with his best friend. You’re still friends just the same. That thought helps you muster up the courage to say what’s been weighing on you.

“Are you okay with us? Lando and I, I mean.”

You aren’t seeking his approval or anything, you just want him to be okay with the two of you. Or maybe you are, you’re not really sure. Max is Lando’s best friend, his brother. Other than Lando’s family, who you can't even think about meeting one day without your stomach churning, he's the person who's known Lando best since they were kids.

All these people, they’re everything to him, and it's important for you to know where they stand.

Max smiles warmly, says your name in that same soft, gentle way Lando always does when you get unsure. “You’re exactly the kind of person Lando needs in his life. Someone away from everything he’s got going on, someone who genuinely cares for him the way you do. You’re perfect for each other, and I hope you know that.”

You swallow the lump rising in your throat, smiling at Max through eyes glossy with welled up tears. His blessing brings you comfort, even if you weren't looking for it. “Thank you.”

“No, I feel like I should be the one thanking you.”

Your brows furrow, head tilting curiously to the side as to what he means. “Me? What did I do?”

“I know Lando’s filled you in about what’s been going on, so you know that he’s had a bit of a rough time lately.” Max says softly, clearing his throat to rid himself of the emotional thickness in his tone. You can tell how much Max really loves and cares for Lando. “He’s not been himself for a while, so this summer break, this trip, it was something that might help him leave it all behind. Just relax and find himself again, ‘cause it wasn’t good for him, bottling it all up like he was.”

Your heart aches for Lando. You can’t help but want to protect him. It was true when you’d been just friends and only grown truer since.

“I wasn’t sure if it was doing him any good, but then we met you, and I swear to god I haven’t seen him smile this much in ages. He’s been so happy, so in love, it’s been—shit, I don’t even know what else I can say other than thank you. You’ve made my best mate himself again, and…I think I owe you everything for that.”

You know there are other parts of his sentence that you should be paying attention to—being the reason Lando feels like himself again, making him happy—but only one thing echoes at the very forefront of your brain. “He’s in love with me?”

Max’s eyes widen almost comically at the realization of what he’s just done. The juxtaposition of the heartfelt conversation you’ve had up until this point with the sudden exaggerated panic in his eyes would’ve cracked you up had you not been stunned by what he’d just let loose. “I really need to learn how to keep my fucking mouth shut.”

“Lando told you he was in love with me?” You press. You’d kick him under the table, but then you’d risk waking up the subject of your conversation. Max just blinks at you, probably trying to figure out a way out of this. “Max.”

“Fuck, fine! Yeah, he told me.” You raise an expectant brow for him to elaborate. “Jesus, did you want a timestamp? He said, I think I’m falling in love with her.”

“He thinks?”

“Well, I don’t know! I’m not a mind reader, am I?” He huffs. Upon seeing your brows furrow, he sighs. “But if I could read his mind, I’d say yes. I’ve known Lando…shit, I dunno, ten years now? And I’ve never seen him like this with anyone else before. You’re special to him.”

“He’s special to me too,” You say softly, stroking a thumb over Lando’s knuckles gently. It should feel strange how much you feel for this boy and how strong those feelings are, but for some reason, it doesn’t. It feels exactly right.

“I feel obligated to give you the usual ‘hurt my best friend and I’ll hurt you’ bit, but I know you won’t. You’ve been a great friend these last couple weeks, and I trust you with him. I trust that you’ll love him as much as he loves you. You do, don’t you?”

You sigh, chuckling softly. “Figured out that one easily too, haven’t you?”

“Please, I’ve known since the day you lot came round ours for the barbeque. And both of you are shit at hiding things, by the way. You’d be terrible spies.”

“Thanks, Max. Seriously.”

“For calling you a crappy liar? You’re welcome, I guess?” He’s only joking, but you know he knows what you mean. Max is a really good guy, a really good friend, both to you and to Lando. “And if he ever hurts you, loop me in. I’ll give him a proper beating for hurting my friend.”

“Oh, I will. Avoid the face though, I kinda like it.”

Max snorts, shaking his head playfully. “Yeah, he’s got a nice mug, that one. Real moneymaker.”

The moneymaker is drooling a little bit with his cheek smushed up against your leg, but you pay it no mind. He still looks good.

He’s actually starting to look like your whole world, all wrapped up into one perfectly flawed human being.

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#lando norris #lando norris x reader #ln4 #ln4 x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris fic #lando norris series #lando norris x fem!reader #lando norris imagine #summer's golden haze

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writersdrug · 6 months ago

Text

The Good Friend

Chapter 1. A New Hobby

Summary: Johnny regularly checks up on Ghost after he sustained a bullet to the hip on their most recent deployment. It's already too late for him to escape, once he sees what's kept his beloved lieutenant so occupied over the past few days.

Warnings: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, kidnapping, implied violence, restraining, psychotic behavior, blood, forced to help in kidnapping, obsessive behavior. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO THESE TOPICS. By clicking "Keep Reading" you are consenting to be responsible for the media you consume.

A/N: The people have spoken

Simon on medical leave: a disaster and a headache for the rest of the 141.

There's a daily text along the lines of "Let me know when we get shipped out next." It never mattered how many times Price responded with "You're not joining us for a while. Find a hobby, Simon." He was persistent in coming back to work as soon as possible - shattered hip be damned.

Price had given Soap the job of checking up on the poor brute. "Maybe he misses the usual company." He'd say. "Go see 'im, check in with the muppet."

Soap was a good friend, but there was only so much grumbling he could stomach from Simon. Those "check-ins" would turn into a pity party, with Simon saying "I should be out there, helpin' you lot. Only wastin' away in 'ere. Losin' my head." And it was true - every time Johnny visited, there was an open can of beer on the coffee table, or a glass of whiskey in his hand. The bottle of prescription, opioid pain killers on the kitchen table. Some ill-advised coping mechanism within arm's reach.

It hurt Johnny to see it, it really did. He cared about Simon, missed him, would do anything to get his beloved L.T. back on the team. But he knew the man needed rest and recovery, despite how much it was sending Simon into a spiral. Johnny offered to help clean up his place, but Simon angrily denied the offer. "Don't need a bloody caretaker." He spat.

Just tryin' to be a good friend, Soap wanted to say, but instead he answered with a slam of Simon's front door and a hushed "feckin' bastard."

Johnny was tired of it. When the fuck was this medical leave supposed to end? Apparently, in two weeks ("thank the feckin' lord") -

But, Soap soon discovered, Simon had requested more time off.

Price stated he'd said something about "still not feeling right", which immediately had Soap confused. That old bawbag would've been back in the game the second the bullet was out of his hip, if it wasn't for regulations. It festered in the back of his mind all day: why would Simon do that? What could possibly hold his attention more than the task force? More than Johnny?

There was only one way to find out.

Soap stands in front of Simon's door, knocking loudly against the dark wood. An unexpected visit, which Simon might be frustrated by - but Soap is dying to see what's got his lieutenant so preoccupied. Hopefully, he hasn't fallen into a pit of depression, choosing to drink himself to death, rather than come back to the team.

However, after just a few moments of standing on his porch, Simon answers it rather quickly. And he looks happy. Delighted, even.

"'Bout time, Johnny." Simon says, stepping aside to let him in. "Was wondering if you got lost."

"Was wonderin' if you'd gone crazy." Soap banters back, kicking the door shut behind him. "Cap said ye want more time?"

Simon chuckled quietly, locking the deadbolt behind Soap. He shoves his hands - gloved hands - into his sweatshirt pocket. "Took his advice. Found a hobby."

"Lemme guess: knittin' me a Christmas sweater?"

"You fuckin' wish."

It's good. It makes Soap sigh with relief (internally), seeing Simon in such good spirits. He tosses the pack of blems onto the coffee table and follows Simon into the kitchen. The smell of rubbing alcohol hits him before he sees the counter; bandages, gauze, bloody gauze, hydrogen peroxide, and an open suture kit.

He stops in the doorway to the kitchen, his teeth bared in a wince. "Shite, Ghost- ye reopen tha' bullet wound?" he says, lifting up one of the bloodied pieces of gauze.

"Hm?" Simon turns to face him, then looks at what he's holding. "Oh- nah, I'm fine. Luvie here bumped her head."

Johnny looks up, confused, following Simon's back with his eyes as he makes his way into the dining room - his mind goes blank when he sees the poor, bloodied thing, tied to one of the chairs.

You're staring back at him, hair messed and blood dried against a nasty gash on your forehead. Fabric is stuffed into your mouth, with a strip of duct tape securing it around your head. Your eyes light up with hope as they take Johnny in; you're heaving, poor thing, breaths more like whines as you fight through the delirium of your concussion. Your right ankle is swollen and a nasty shade of purple. Blood all over the chair, your thighs, and now, Johnny finally notices, Simon's hands.

"Dinged 'erself pretty good on my bookcase." Simon says, too calmly, his broad frame standing behind the chair you're strapped into. "Slippery lil' thing, she is."

Simon rips the duct tape off - your voice immediately fills the room, echoing inside Soap's head with your begging and pleading, please please please get me out of here, please help me, he kidnapped me, he's a monster, please-

Johnny has to look away - there's too much noise, too much going on - his eyes trail down the dark hall and into Simon's bedroom. The bookshelf is toppled over, volumes strewn about the floor, a lamp shattered on the ground and casting an eerie angle of light through the room. He hears the sound of his own blood pumping, his chest and throat feel tight, mind racing a million miles a second. Did his LT do this? His Simon?

"Johnny."

He turns back to you. The duct tape is back in place, and now you're weakly thrashing about as much as you can - which really isn't much. Ghost is staring at Soap, one of his hands wrapped around your shoulder, knuckles white with how hard he's gripping you; which is most likely what's making you cry so much.

"Need ya to help stitch 'er up." Simon says, his eyes cold. It's an order. "'Fore she bleeds out on us."

Johnny feels like he's going to vomit. He needs to stop thinking, to stop shaking, and do something. His lieutenant's kidnapped a bloody civilian, for Christ's sake. Why? And what the fuck did he do to her?

"Won't let me touch 'er. Hard to stitch the wound when she's throwin' a fit - damn near stabbed 'er in the eye. I'll hold 'er while you do th' job."

Johnny finally inhales after holding his breath for so long. He stumbles backwards into the kitchen, remembering where the front door is, thinking he should have been in his car and on the phone with the police by now. If he does, though, Simon will be gone forever. Locked up in prison, far away from Soap. How can he save this? How can he save you, and him? "Simon, ye- ye can't be serious, mate-"

"If you walk out tha' fuckin' door I'll kill 'er before you reach it."

That ruffles your feathers. You're whimpering again, screaming against the gag - at him? At Ghost? He freezes where he stands, trying to remember his training. Act first, think later. Do what keeps the most people alive in the moment. That's what Simon had taught him. The same man who was threatening to kill you, ironically, based on what Soap decided to do.

"Get the sutures off the counter." Simon ordered, apparently sensing Soap's inner turmoil. He knows Johnny wouldn't leave you there, not after the threat.

He couldn't.

Soap exhaled heavily through his teeth, forcing his muscles to move. He snatched the suture kit off the counter and stormed back into the living room. He heard Ghost hum in approval as he slapped it down on the table.

"You do it." he said, his voice low and full with grit. "Ye stitch 'er up, I'll help ye take her to the hospital. We come back n' clean up-"

"Shut the fuck up-" Simon growled out to Soap, gripping your chin in his large hand and yanking your head back against his abdomen. "Get to work. Don't let 'er die on me, now."

Die. Die. You had a concussion and a headwound, but you weren't dying - still, he knew that wasn't what Ghost meant. If Soap didn't help, you would die, one way or another. He had to think of this differently, for the time being. He was helping you. He'd take this little by little - first, patch you up. Figure out what the fuck to do with you later; also, how to keep this from ruining Simon's career, because he couldn't leave the task force. Soap wouldn't let that happen.

So, he took the needle and sutures in his hand, and knelt on the floor, between your restrained legs. Ignored the way you screamed and thrashed, only held still by Ghost's meaty paws. Didn't focus on Ghost's satisfied grin. He was doing this to save your life, you'd understand that later. He was doing this to save Simon's career.

Like a good friend.

Next ->

Taglist: @a-sadmilky

Ghost photo credit to @chatskaja

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soaps-mohawk · 8 months ago

Text

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 27: Drown In It

Summary: Your heat lingers closer and closer, which leaves you with some conflicting feelings. Of course, you're not going to worry about them for much longer...

Paring: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 6,179 words

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, p in v sex, unprotected sex, bodily fluids, heat cycles, knotting, licking, biting, grinding, spanking (it's like once), kissing, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, a sprinkle of angst, language, emotions, and of course some fluff

A/N: And we're in it again, folks. It's happening (again). Though this time, there may be a bit of a surprise....

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

(Yes I am using a Barry Sloane gif, trust me you will understand once you read the chapter)

You freeze, dread and panic beginning to fill you as you stand in the doorway to the rec room. The pounding of your heart is loud in your ears, which are quickly growing hot. The urge to turn tail and run is strong, yet you can’t move, frozen in place by the sight in front of you.

Simon is sitting, far too relaxed, in the chair where he normally sits. There’s a book in his hands, the crinkle of the page being turned is like a gunshot. You almost flinch in response, but hold still, wondering if you could back away before he notices your presence. You know it would be futile. He would have heard the crinkling of the bag of chips in your hand, the quiet rustle of it against your leg as soon as you turned the corner.

“Interesting book, this.” He says, not bothering to look up as he sits reclined in the chair, about halfway through the book in his hands.

Your mouth goes dry as you stare at him. You might never have given him, or the book, a second glance had you not been so clearly able to see the cover. It was almost like he was doing it on purpose, hoping you’d see what he’d found, what he’d discovered in your underwear drawer. It’s almost like he was hoping you’d walk in and see it. Or maybe he heard you coming and positioned himself so you’d see it.

“‘The Powerful Omega.’” He says, closing the book to stare at the title.

You shift on your feet nervously, ready to run if you need to, the bag of chips crinkling as you tighten your grip on it.. “I-I can explain-”

“No need.” He says, cutting you off as he flips the book back open. “Is this how you got into our heads so easily?”

Despite the accusing question, his tone isn’t malicious or even disparaging. You fiddle with your fingers, starting to feel like you’re being tested. If you say yes, what will he do? Get angry, accuse you of manipulation? But if you say no, he might think you’re lying, or perhaps he already knows the answer.

“I-It helped a bit.” You say, shuffling forward a step. “At first. I almost forgot it was in there.”

“‘Learn to Speak Their Language.’” He reads off the chapter title, your cheeks warming a bit. Of course he’d be there when you caught him. He stares at you over the top of the book, your gaze turned to the black TV screen. You can’t stare at him. Not right now. “Is this why you asked me to train you?”

There’s no lying to him. You already know that. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, nodding. “It was part of it. It gave me the idea, but then I realized if I’m gonna go around making stupid decisions like punching alphas, maybe I should know how to defend myself a little. I-I also thought it might help me get closer to you, at least get you to tolerate me a bit.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Well, I can say it worked. Was more you than anything, but I was a bit touched you asked me.”

Your nervousness begins to calm as you realize he’s not angry you have the book. He’s also not angry you used it to get closer to them, to begin to integrate yourself into their pack. You set your chips down on the coffee table, sitting on the edge of the couch.

“How did you get it?” He asks.

“I called Kate.” You give him a small smile. “When she sent me the first uh...care package. That was part of it.”

He huffs, shaking his head. “Sneaky thing.”

“I mean, one of you was bound to find it eventually.” You shrug. “Thought it might be Johnny with how often he sneaks into my underwear drawer. Though, I suppose he steals them from the laundry basket more often.”

He hums, his gaze returning to the book.

“Are you really reading it?” You ask.

“‘Course.” He responds, getting comfortable in the chair again.

A smile tugs at your lips as you watch him, his focus zeroing in on the book again. You get an idea, rising from the couch to scan the shelves in the rec room. You find a manual on guns and ammunition, sitting back down with the heavy book in one hand, your chips in the other. Simon glances at you over the top of his book again as you make yourself comfortable on the other side of the couch, the title clearly visible as you turn to the first page.

“Really?” He asks, exasperated.

You shrug, glancing up at him. “It’s only fair.”

“Little shit.” He rolls his eyes, letting out a sigh as he goes back to reading your book. You sink down against the arm of the couch, using your book to hide your satisfied grin.

“It never fails to amaze me.”

“Huh?” You turn to face Johnny, a piece of popcorn falling out of your mouth from how much you've managed to stuff inside in one bite.

“How much ye can eat during your pre-heat.” He says, grabbing the piece of popcorn that landed on the couch between you.

You attempt to say something in response, but it comes out as a muffled mess around the popcorn you’re chewing. Johnny eats the piece that fell, reaching for the bowl. You move it out of his reach, pressing your foot against his side to keep him from getting too close.

“Mine.” You say, pushing against his side, trying to get him to move away from you.

He’s undeterred, using his size against you as he reaches for the bowl. A low growl rubles in your chest as you lean backwards, trying to keep it out of his reach. He freezes at the sound, staring down at you as you glare at him.

“Did ye just growl at me?” He blinks at you, his lips turning up in a grin.

You bare your teeth at him, another growl rumbling in your chest. You go for his arm, his reflexes just managing to yank it out of the way before your teeth sink into his skin.

“Alright, alright.” He says, holding up his hands as he sinks back into his spot. “I got the message.” He grins as you sit up, holding the bowl protectively against your chest. “That might be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.” He pulls out his phone, snapping a picture as you glare at him.

Your glare deepens as you shovel more popcorn into your mouth. He nearly giggles as he stares down at his phone, tapping on the screen a few times. You push yourself up, trying to get a look at his screen. “Who are you sending that to?” You ask between mouthfuls of popcorn.

“The group chat.” He says, as if that’s not revealing news.

“Group chat?” You ask around another mouthful.

He nods. “Just the four of us fellas for blethering.”

You blink at him, trying to translate what he means in your pre-heat addled brain. “Huh?” You say stupidly, a piece of popcorn dropping back into the bowl from the handful you had been holding up halfway to your mouth.

“We like tae gossip among each other.” He says, giving you a grin.

“Do you...talk about me?” You ask before shoving the handful of popcorn in your mouth.

“All the time.” He answers, using his reflexes to steal a piece of popcorn from the bowl.

You’re too distracted to care, though if your mouth hadn’t been full you might have been tempted to bite him in retaliation. “‘Bout what?” You ask, the words almost unintelligible thanks to the popcorn you’re still chewing.

“Oh, lots of things.” He grins. “How cute ye look all cozy in yer bed, how nicely yer arse looks in your skids, how we got ye to moan like that, tips on how tae make yer legs shake-” He does let out a giggle as you softly kick him in his side.

“Rude.” You pout as you curl up against the arm of the couch away from him with your bowl. “Could at least include me.”

“Aw but we need our space,” He says, leaning closer to you. “Fer all our mingin' gab.”

You give him a look, still trying to process his words as he presses a kiss to your head. He uses your distraction to steal a piece of popcorn from the bowl, immediately jumping away from you as you react, letting out another growl. The popcorn bowl falls to the floor as you leap at him, ready to sink your teeth into his arm.

“You're avoiding me.”

Simon glances up at you before looking back at his computer. “Not on purpose. You know the dangers if you go into heat too close.”

He’s right. Though, you think you’d know if your heat was starting and you could get away before things got dangerous. Of course, with his sensitive instincts, he might notice before you do. Things would get ugly fast if John noticed too and tried to stop Simon. You’re not sure the betas could get to you in time to try and stop them, or at least get you away in hopes it clears their heads enough.

You look around Simon’s office, the desk shoved further back to make room for the two cots set up in the corner closest to the door. Soon he and Johnny would be shut in here, avoiding the hallway around the corner while you and John fucked nearly non-stop for the next week.

It feels different now that you’ve reached this new stage of your relationship with Simon. He’s not on the outside anymore, not separate from you. There’s a strong bond there now, one both of you have contributed to. He had made the boundary clear, even without having to say anything. He won’t take the risk of helping you. He’s not your alpha.

However, wouldn’t complain if he were the one to get to you first, to lock you in his office and throw you on the cots and fuck you stupid for the next week. You shift on your feet at the thought of taking his knot, being pumped full of him and locked together. Would he remove his mask? Would you remember his face at the end of your heat-induced haze?

He’d never forgive himself if it happened. He’d close himself off, avoid you like the plague. It would shred that fragile bond that has been set in place.

You won’t entertain those thoughts anymore. Not when he’s so clearly drawn the line.

You take half a step forward, pausing at the growl that rumbles in his chest. He’s setting another boundary, warning you of the dangers both of you pose towards each other in this delicate time.

You continue forward despite the obvious warning, pushing against the instincts telling you to heed it and stay back. Yet, he doesn't stop you as you pass his desk, slinging a leg over him and planting yourself in his lap. It’s obvious, the tension in his body as you sit there, as if you might go into heat at any second. There will be signs once it is coming on, symptoms different from ones you feel outside of heats.

You stare up into his eyes, his gaze sharp but not piercing as it once might have been. There’s a softness to it, something you might even call affection as he stares down at you.

“Will you kiss me?” You ask softly, hesitantly. “One last time? So maybe I might remember you still like me when I wake up on the other side of this?”

“I don’t think you could forget that.” He says, his hands dropping to grip your thighs.

“Still...would be nice to have one.” You say, wrapping your arms around his neck. “For good luck?”

He hums, the sound rumbling in his chest, before he lifts a hand, pulling his mask up to his nose. He leans forward, meeting you halfway as he presses his lips to yours.

The kiss is searing, conveying a deep passion and almost a longing feeling as his lips move against yours. Does he regret his decision not to even offer to help you? You’re not sure even you would have said yes to his offer. It’s only your second heat, the second time you’ve trusted your pack to care for you in such a vulnerable position. While you don’t distrust Simon and his ability to take care of you, a deep part of you longs for your alpha and the surety and safety he’s already proven.

Simon’s hand slides up your back, brushing over your neck before cradling the back of your head. He holds you still as he licks the seam of your lips. You moan softly against his mouth, wishing you could pull him closer, wishing you could sink into him and avoid the inevitable heat lingering over your head.

A sigh is pulled from your lips as his tongue presses into your mouth, taking its time to explore before flicking against your own. His other arm wraps around your back, tugging you against him, chest to chest, legs spread around his hips. Had you not been trying to rest your body, or entirely disinterested in sex currently, you might have fucked him right in this chair, one last time before you’re lost to your heat and your alpha.

He pulls away from your lips, resting his forehead against yours as you both pant softly. The silence is loud, but it speaks volumes between you, sharing things you’re too scared to say out loud, things that push the boundaries of vulnerability between the two of you. There will be time afterward, plenty of time to gently push those boundaries and continue to worm your way into his most intimate thoughts.

You open your eyes, meeting his gaze. You can see the dots of freckles on his skin, the shades of brown in his eyes. His breath is warm against your lips as you sit there, almost like you’re trying to commit each other to memory, as if you’ll forget about him as soon as the door seals you and John inside your room. You will forget in the throes of your heat, but once the haze fades and you come back to yourself, you’ll remember him. He won’t be far, and neither will you.

“See you on the other side?” You say, cupping his face, letting your thumb trace the line of his jaw, his stubble prickling your skin.

He leans forward, kissing you once more, his lips brushing yours as he speaks.

“See you on the other side.”

You’re on fire.

Sweat has soaked your skin and right through the loose shirt you had donned earlier. It’s dripping down your face, offering no relief from the lava pulsing under your skin. You’re surprised the liquid doesn’t start sizzling as it drips down your chest and arms. You’re panting softly, legs spread as you lay on the bed. There’s a steady pulsing between your legs, the ache and need beginning to steadily grow more intense as slick seeps out of you and onto the blankets below.

You woke earlier with a crawling sensation under your skin, your pajamas quickly ditched in favor of the baggy shirt to avoid the overstimulation of any tight fabric. You knew last night as soon as the ravenous hunger began to abate that you were close. Mid-bite of some potatoes the hunger had faded and suddenly they looked almost repulsive. Simon and Johnny had moved into his office and you quarantined in your room with Kyle and John on standby.

Sleep had evaded you for most of the night as you waited for it to start, expecting it to be in the middle of the night like last time. Your mind had faded in and out of sleep, expecting to wake any moment with the uncomfortable feverish heat beneath your skin.

Instead you woke early with no sign of it yet, still dry between your legs and almost cold from the always cool air in the barracks. The only sign had been the itching, crawling feeling beneath your skin.

You’d made it just past lunch, Kyle bringing in food for you, which you had struggled through, only eating to try and get some last calories into your body. The familiar electrolyte drinks and nutrition bars that will keep both you and John alive over the next week, sit in stacks next to the door, some already set up on your nightstand. Your bed has been stripped down to a sheet, your pillow, and the blanket you slept under last night. Your stuffed animals and decorative pillows sit piled on your desk in the corner.

It came on suddenly, the heat beneath your skin. The prickling sensation had begun in your core and flared outward to your very fingertips. It had been like a flushing feeling, the heat rippling through you. The book in your hands slid onto the floor as the deep cramping began, making you wince. You’re not quite sure what had been worse, the pain or the initial panic.

Your phone is on the floor with your book after you’d managed to send a text to Kyle. The panic is still bubbling under the surface as your brain begins to get foggy, its only focus the pulsing between your thighs. It’s been a while since you’ve been awake for the start of your heat. The last one had started in your sleep, and the one before that you had been sedated by the CIA, closely monitored and put under before the itching even began under your skin.

Your trembling fingers fumble with one of the electrolyte drinks on your nightstand, struggling to wrap around it and then get the cap off. It does little to soothe the dryness in your mouth, but you drink as much of it as you can.

The door opens, Kyle slipping through before quickly closing it behind him. He approaches the bed, that sympathetic look in his eyes again. He’s not sure what to say, you can tell by his hesitance, but what is there to say in this moment? ‘Good luck, hope John doesn’t accidentally hurt you?’

You don’t blame him for his silence, though you know his beta is agitated, wanting to offer you comfort and support, but he can’t. He can’t do much for you this time, only your alpha can.

Kyle bends down, picking up your phone and book from the floor before checking the charge on your phone. He sets it down on the nightstand, pulling another from his pocket and placing it down next to yours. It’s John’s personal phone. You recognize the familiar olive green case. Kyle will alternate charging them, mostly for John’s peace of mind. Not that he’ll care much about potential calls or messages while he’s knotted inside of you.

“You’ll be okay.” Kyle says, brushing the wisps of hair stuck to your forehead back. Johnny had braided it last night, his final act of comfort before retreating with Simon to their own quarantined space. Kyle must have noted the nervous edges in your scent still lingering in the air as he tries to comfort you.

You hold his hand against your face, nuzzling your cheek against his rough palm. It’s not quite enough, he’s not quite enough, but it’s no fault of his own. Your instincts are beginning to take over. The desire for an alpha, your alpha, to help you is overtaking any rational thought.

Kyle strokes your cheek for a moment before he pulls away, taking the bottle from your trembling hands and tossing it in the trash. He folds your blanket and drapes it over the footboard before setting your book on your desk.

“John knows.” He says, standing close to the door. “He’ll be in soon.”

All you can do is nod as you rub your thighs together, trying to get any ounce of friction you can. The fabric of the shirt you’re wearing is like a million tiny knives against your skin, but your hands are useless as they tug at the fabric. You can’t get your body to work enough to pull it off.

A pathetic whine leaves your lips as the door opens again. You’re still tugging at your shirt, writhing in your attempts to both remove the offending fabric from your skin and also get some relief for the pulsing between your thighs.

“Alpha...” You whine, vision zeroing in on your alpha as he stands there, staring at you with dark eyes.

“Look at you.” He rasps, taking slow steps closer and closer to you.

Another whine falls from your lips as you reach out for him, desperate to feel him against you, like his very touch could ease the fire burning beneath your skin. Your arm is shaking by the time he reaches you, his fingers brushing against your hand. A content purr rumbles in your chest as he finally touches you, rough fingers tracing your palm before continuing down the inside of your arm. A shiver shakes your body at the feeling of his rough calluses against your sensitive skin. You wish those fingers would go elsewhere, your mouth watering at the thought of them between your thighs again.

“Alpha,” You whine again as he grips your upper arm, yanking you up.

In one fluid motion he sits on your bed, tugging your body onto his lap. His arms wrap around you, holding you against him, your slick dribbling onto the front of his pants. A quiet sound rumbles in his chest, his pupils dilating as his alpha begins to come out, his alpha responding to the thick scent of your pheromones in the room.

You press against him, but it’s not enough. You need to feel him, his skin against yours, the prickling of the hair on his chest against your sensitive skin. His hands trail up your sides, the drag of the fabric of your shirt against your skin making you whine. You need to feel him, not the synthetic material separating you. He slides his hands all the way up, skirting past your breasts and sensitive nipples to grip the neck of the shirt, ripping it down the center.

Your omega purrs happily at the display of strength, a quiet sigh leaving your lips as he pushes the shirt from your shoulders, freeing you from the overwhelming sensation. His hands flatten against your back, a content purr leaving your lips at the feeling of his skin against yours. You arch into him, pressing your hips against the prominent bulge in his pants. Your fingers tug at his own shirt, but you lack the strength to tear it off him, even as you paw at the fabric. You likely wouldn’t have been able to anyway outside the throes of your heat.

“Needy little thing.” He purrs, nipping at your bottom lip.

You chase his lips, kissing him harshly. His fingers dig into your back as you push your tongue into his mouth, licking at his own tongue. Your thighs clench around his hips at the thought of that tongue between your legs, more slick soaking the front of his pants as it gushes out of you.

His hands slide down to grip your hips, dragging your slit along the front of his jeans. You moan at the delicious friction, pulling away from his mouth to kiss down his throat. His beard tickles your skin as he tilts his head, bearing his throat to you. A low growl rumbles through your chest as he allows himself to be in such a vulnerable position. You’re shaking in his arms as he guides your hips to grind against his pants, legs clenching around his hips. You’re close, the pulsing beneath your veins getting stronger and stronger.

“Gonna cum like this?” He growls, his grip almost bruising on your hips. “Without me even touching you? Make yourself cum and I’ll give you what you need.”

Your heat-addled brain somehow comprehends his words, picking out the parts it needs as you shift on his lap, dragging your clit against the seam of his jeans. Your face presses against his throat, devouring his scent straight from the source. It goes right to your head, the earthy scent nearly indistinguishable from the musk of his rut.

Your body shudders as your first orgasm rocks you, slick gushing out of you like a tidal wave. You sink your teeth into his shoulder, fingers digging into his skin.

“Son of a-” He curses, delivering a harsh slap to your bare ass. “Fuckin’ naughty little omega.”

You grin, lapping at the teeth marks you’ve left on his skin as you press your ass into his hand. Your orgasm has provided a little relief, but it’s not enough. It’s never enough. Not until you have his knot inside you.

You tug at his shirt again, bunching the fabric in your hands. “Off.” You whine, desperate to feel his skin against yours.

He finally acquiesces, pushing you back far enough to tug his shirt off. Drool drips down your chin as you stare at the skin now exposed to you. You can’t help yourself as you lean forward, licking your way across his collarbones and his chest. You slide off his lap, kneeling between his legs as you lick your way down his chest, dragging your tongue across his soft stomach.

He grips the back of your neck, pulling you away from his skin. Your tongue is still sticking out, almost like it’s trying to taste every last bit of him that might be in the air. “Fuck.” He groans, pushing you back as he moves to stand.

You grab his hand before he can fully stand, tugging with surprising strength. He falls into you, both of you falling back onto the floor in a mess of limbs. Your omega scratches in the back of your brain, your gaze sharpening as you wrestle with him, finally managing to pin him on the floor.

His eyes are almost black, a dangerous growl rumbling in his chest. Slick dribbles out of you, smearing on his stomach as you return his growl, baring your teeth at him. You want him to submit, you need him to submit to you. Your omega doesn't care about the obvious challenge, the stupidity of trying to control a rutting alpha.

Yet, he goes lax beneath you, his gaze still sharp and cautious as he stares at you.

Your growl softens into a purr as he relaxes, submitting to you for a moment. You bend down again, your tongue flattening against his skin once more. Your eyes are locked on his as you lick the beading sweat on his chest, purring at the saltiness of it on your tongue. You continue your way down his body, following the path down his chest and across his stomach. His eyes leave yours, watching the wiggle of your bare ass as you crawl backwards, continuing to lick across his stomach until you reach the puddle of shiny slick streaked across his skin.

He lets out a rumbling purr as you lap at your own slick. It’s sweet from your pheromones, yet there’s the familiar tang of your natural taste on your tongue as you clean the mess you’ve made on your alpha’s skin.

As soon as you deem his skin clean enough you continue downward, licking at the waistband of his jeans. Your fingers are shaking as you paw at his pants, trying to get your fingers to work to remove the last barrier between you. You need your alpha’s cock, you need to see it, to taste it. Your mouth is watering as you fumble helplessly, unable to handle such fine motor skills when all your brain is screaming to do is fuck.

He pushes your hands out of the way, undoing his pants easily. He wiggles them down enough until his cock has sprung free, heavy and almost throbbing on his stomach. You stare at it wide eyed, drool slipping down your chin as you stare at it. You need it, you need his knot now, the burning under your skin intensifying from how close you are to finally getting what you need. You wrap your hand around his heavy length, the tip already leaking as you lean down, dragging your tongue from his balls to the tip. He lets out a groan as you close your lips around the head, flicking your tongue across his slit.

You hold his gaze, dragging your tongue across his head once more before lifting yourself and shifting over his hips. You hold his gaze as you drag his cock through your folds, your needy brain searching for the spot you need. You let out a whine as you find it, his head catching on your entrance. You don’t hesitate, a long, desperate sounding whine falling from your lips as you sink down onto his length.

It goes in easily, your body opening to him eagerly, your slick aiding the process as it gushes down the length of his cock. You make it halfway before pausing, breathing for a moment before you sink the rest of the way down.

Your pussy flutters around him, a whimper leaving your lips. You could cum just like this, just from the stretch of his cock inside of you. It’s still not enough, it’s still not what you need, but it does ease the ache throbbing in your pelvis.

He lays there, eyes hooded as he watches you, content to let yourself use him in your needy state for now. Your hands press against his stomach as he sinks almost impossibly deep inside you, your hips settling against his. He reaches up, pressing against the bulge in your pelvis, your hips jerking at the shock of pleasure that thrums through you.

He lets out a pleased rumble as you squeeze around him, slick dribbling out around the base of his cock. “Be a good omega, take what you need.” He commands, his alpha rough around the edges of his voice.

Your hands press firmly against his stomach, using him for leverage as you begin to move, lifting your hips and then letting them drop. Quiet whimpers leave your lips with every movement as his cock drags along your walls. The ache in your bones is finally starting to ease, the burning itch beneath your skin fading. You rock on your alpha’s cock, using his body for your pleasure as he lays there, content to watch you.

The low rumble in his chest vibrates through you, inaudible under your desperate whines and the squelch of your pussy on his cock, but you can feel it in your hands, your subconscious picking up on it in a way you can’t understand. It only adds to the pleasure coursing through you, your clit throbbing from the friction against his jeans earlier.

You’re tired, your legs shaking as you begin to slow down. The need pulsing through you is strong, but your heat-addled body is not. You whine desperately as you grind on his cock, seeking out any sort of pleasure you can get as your legs give out, too exhausted and weak to continue.

“What’s the matter?” John says, lips pulling up in a smirk. “Poor little omega getting tired? Can’t fuck herself on my cock anymore?”

“Please...” You whine, nearly crying in desperation. “Need your knot alpha.”

“Then take it.” He says, not making any move to help you.

“Can’t,” You whine. “Need you to do it. Need you to take care of me.”

He lets out a growl at your confession, his hands finally moving to your hips. He pulls you off of his cock, flipping you around so you’re on your knees, upper body pressed against the floor. You push your ass up as high as you can for him, presenting for your alpha. He lets out a pleased rumble, his fingers dragging through your slick coated slit. You whine needily, pushing back against his hand.

“Easy.” He says, pressing close behind you. “Alpha’s got you.”

Your eyes nearly roll back as he sinks into you again, the change in position nearly making you see stars as he begins fucking in you, the snap of his hips against yours rocking your body on the carpet. Your knees burn but you can hardly feel it as he fucks you through an orgasm, your walls clenching desperately around his cock. Your brain is going hazy again as you feel the swelling at the base of his cock pushing up against your entrance, drool pooling on the carpet beneath you as you wait for it, wait for him to push his knot inside you and tie the two of you together.

“Alpha...alpha...” You chant the title like a mantra, the sounds slurring together as you push back against him.

“Take it,” He grunts, his fingers digging into your hips as he holds you steady in place. He pushes against you, his knot stretching your pussy as he begins pushing it into you. “Take it...good girl.”

You whine as his knot pops into place, your body shuddering with another orgasm from the gaping stretch around him. He grinds his hips against you, his knot tugging at the entrance of your pussy as you clench tightly around him. He cums with a groan, his body falling over yours as he spurts his seed into you. You lay there, whining and panting beneath him, sweat still dripping down your back.

Your brain is starting to float away, your mind going hazy again, but you’re not fighting it this time. You’re giving into your instincts, unable to do anything but submit to them, submit to your alpha.

“I’ve got you.” Price says softly, gently brushing the sweaty strands of hair from your face that have fallen loose from your braid.

You give into the haze, trusting him to take care of you.

You’re not sure when you moved to the bed. It’s the crackle of the mattress protector that’s pulled you from your haze for a moment. One of those rare moments of clarity post-knot as you come back into your brain enough to be semi-aware of your surroundings. You won’t remember it by the time you come out of your heat, lost in the mush of hazy memories from the week.

Your pussy is pulsing around John’s knot, his chest pressed into your back. You still feel hot, feverish as you lay there half out of it. John’s right arm is under you, wrapped around so his hand is against your chest. He’s holding the cap of an electrolyte bottle in his right hand, the plastic cool against your heated skin.

There’s hands moving in front of you, pulling a charging cord from one phone to put it in the other. There’s voices, but you’re too far in the haze to understand what they’re saying. There’s a scent in the air, clearer and softer than the heavy musk that’s settled in the room. It goes straight to your head, nearly making you black out again. You want to taste it, your tongue darting out to lick your lips.

Your hand shoots out, surprising even you with how fast it’s moved. Your brain feels slow as it tries to catch up with the movement, your fingers wrapped around someone’s wrist. Your hand has a mind of its own as it pulls the wrist closer, pressing it against your face.

A soft, fresh scent fills your nose, your eyes fluttering as it pulses through you, your pussy convulsing around John’s knot. He groans behind you, his hips shifting just slightly in response. Your tongue darts out, licking at the wrist pressed against your face, trying to taste the scent.

Salty, briney, fresh. The sea, you remember from the haze in your mind. It smells like the sea. You continue to lick it, wanting it to consume you, to sink into your brain and ease the aching need.

“Careful, love.” A soft voice says, cutting through the scent-induced haze you’re in.

The attached body tries to pull the wrist in your grip away, but you let out a whine, fingers tightening around it as you pull it closer. You drag your tongue against the skin again, letting out a quiet whine. You need it, your hand trembling around his wrist.

The word feels heavy on your tongue, your heat-addled, scent drunk brain trying to form it on your lips, pushing it from your mind until it vibrates in the air audibly. The process feels like it takes minutes, when in reality it was likely only seconds. You tug on the wrist again, trying to bring the source closer.

“Stay.”

NEXT ->

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#call of duty #cod fic #poly 141 x reader #task force 141 x reader #tf 141 x reader #poly 141 #John price x reader #captain John price x reader #Kyle gaz Garrick x reader #gaz x reader #John soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #Simon ghost Riley x reader #Simon Riley x reader #a/b/o #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #omegaverse

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venusindelusion · 3 months ago

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Giving In (to the Love): Guess

5th chapter

SUMMARY: Curiosity was eating you alive, even though someone else wishes to be the one doing it.

WC: 3K

PAIRING: Vi x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: MDNI, masturbation, mentions of clit, fingering, cursing, alcohol.

A/N: sorry for the delay, life got in the way of thirst

Previous chapter

The days seemed longer than usual, your hands were full; trying to catch up with classes and studying for upcoming exams, getting home late and barely sleeping. It has been a few days since your last tutoring lesson and you really hoped Violet would keep her promise and study on her own, although you knew she had a lot on her plate too.

After that invitation, both of you started exchanging messages daily, usually chatting about what you were doing or your plans for the day, you complained about a few classes and she would do the same about some customers during the night.

It was still early in the morning and you were drinking your coffee. Your schedule for today was a bit heavy, it was Viktor's class and you knew that a pile of exams would be waiting for you on the desk to grade and your mind would be everywhere except on those papers.

You drank your coffee peacefully while going through your phone's notifications, reading group chats of your classes and asking some questions you needed for an essay. While reading one of your classmates' reply, a message from Caitlyn pops up asking if you would be free after class. Thinking for a bit, you decide to meet up with her for coffee and maybe a study session, it has been a while since both of you could have one and you were curious about the case she was so eagerly working on too. After all, she did mention it was very important for her.

Turning the lights off, you walk out of your apartment and lock the door. Once inside the elevator, the thought of messaging Violet crossed your mind, but you remembered she had mentioned her day would be very busy— training for the weekend during the morning and receiving some new furniture for The Last Drop in the afternoon, so you decide not to.

It was already feeling like kind of a boring day, you were getting accustomed to your texts and your senseless chats, just seeing her name pop up on your lockscreen would put your heart to work fast. Although you couldn't shake off the memory of the envelope, you wonder if you would be able to build up the nerve and eventually ask Caitlyn about it. There is nothing wrong with curiosity, right?

As you open the front door of the building, a cold breeze makes you realize you should have taken a jacket before leaving your place. Sighing, you closed the door anyway and started walking, you were already tight on time and Viktor wasn't very forgiving when it came to punctuality.

"Good morning, professor." You say as you open the door to Viktor's office, but there was no sight of him. The smell of books and incense was in the air, sunlight filling the room through green curtains and illuminating the bookshelves as you dropped your bag on the floor beside your usual seat. Saying you loved this room would be an understatement, it felt so academic yet very personal, you could tell Viktor put his whole life in here; some of his favourite books were on the bookshelf right behind his seat, notes and small illustrations pinned on a clork board— some his and some from someone else, and, on the desk, he had a frame with a photograph of his husband and himself, they both looked so happy and in love.

The particular sound of Viktor's cane stumbled you a bit out of your thoughts. He greeted you good morning and apologized for the delay, then sat down and handed a small pile of exams for grading. You looked at him confused and he said, "Not many students showed up."

You nod in response and both of you start your usual working routine. The mutual understanding you shared with him was something you were thankful for, it was quiet and easy to work with him; Viktor usually focused on his own thing, sometimes it would be supervising your previous corrections or preparing the topics for the next lesson, other times he'd stay silent while writing notes on his next investigation.

"How are Violet's lessons coming so far?" He asked suddenly, not taking his eyes off his paperwork and coughing a little bit.

"To be honest, good." You replied, trying to pretend that the mention of her name doesn't strike a nerve. Viktor looks at you and raises an eyebrow curiously and encouraging you to elaborate more. "Well," you start fidgeting, playing with the pen on your hand and taking your stare everywhere but his face, "she's a quick learner and shows clear interest in our lessons," he catches your fingers moving awkwardly and tries to hide a smile, "so I think she'll do just fine next time."

Viktor nods and continues with his work, you follow his action and carry on grading the few remaining exams. It was a pity not many students showed up to take it; Viktor's lessons were difficult but very educative and dynamic, he would make sure the whole class had a chance to participate, to feel free to start a debate or even question his facts. Even though his exams were tough, he always held extra classes for those who needed additional tutoring regarding some topics. Those were the reasons you look up to him, he built his career alone, everything he has now was a product of his never ending effort; in the little time you had got to know this man, he had found a way to make you admire him even more.

"Jayce and I are holding a seminar the following week," he said, lifting his eyes off the papers in front of him and dropping his pen on the desk, "we would like to invite you."

You nod excitedly and he smiles, explaining more about the seminar his husband and himself are holding; they were working on a device that could detect and help relief the pain on small parts of the human body, it was mostly theory and the idea was still too young, but Viktor seemed hopeful about it. Both of you keep on working for a few hours more, time passing by quickly given all the work you had to do besides grading.

He ended up dismissing you earlier than expected, so you said your goodbye and walked out of the office straight to the cafeteria. Caitlyn wasn't going to arrive for another half an hour at least, so you sat down at your usual table and waited for the waitress to come take your order.

"Well, look what we have here." You hear a familiar voice behind you and turn your head around, it was Violet. She was smiling playfully as she took a seat in front of you. "Missed me much?"

"What are you doing here?" You ask her, nervously playing with the menu on your hands. Certainly you weren't expecting to see her today.

"Stalking my favourite tutor." She says and laughes. Her laugh makes you even more nervous, it feels like both music to your ears and a drums against your chest.

"I'm your only tutor." You answer, trying to sound nonchalant and calm. Violet had this unknown effect on you, it was like she was guiding you through the whole emotional spectrum; happiness, anxiety, confusion, all at once. Never in your life have you crossed paths with someone who could cloud your mind and put your heart to work as if you were running a marathon.

"Had to drop Powder's uniform," she says, running her hands through her pink hair, "she came to work and forgot it at home." She rolls her eyes, giving you the smallest timeframe to watch her slow movements, the way her shoulders would tense as she gesticulates, her hair falling against her face, her light blue eyes reflecting the sunlight coming through the window. It was like her presence was driving you in. "Are you okay, cupcake?" She breaks the spell she put you in.

"Y-Yes, I—"

"Can I take your order?" You were interrupted by no other than Powder herself, all dressed up in her uniform. Violet was about to speak but her sister cuts her out, "I already know yours, sis," she says, "I'm asking yours, cupcake." Smirking and looking at you mockingly, this little teenager managed to paint your face red.

"Just a coffee, please." You answer, coughing to try to clear your throat. Violet was sending her sister a serious stare, but you couldn't mind what it meant when your face felt like it's been set on fire.

Powder writes down your order, still with that smile on her face, and takes off. Silence sets in the small space of your table, you couldn't quite figure if it was an awkward silence that you should fill, yet you had no idea how you'd do that; Violet was entertained looking out the window, her chin on her hand and her eyes narrowed to cover herself from the sunlight. You felt like you should imitate her, as if you should cover yourself from her.

Your cellphone rings and you take it, desperate for anything that could distract your thoughts, and see a message from your best friend saying she would be arriving soon. You wonder if Violet was going to stick around for long, not that you wanted her to leave but the envelope was still in your mind— it felt like you were getting in the middle of something, putting pieces together of a secret you were not supposed to discover, yet you wanted to know why it was hidden in the first place.

It just didn't make sense, Caitlyn has been open about her sexuality ever since you first met her, so it couldn't be that. Maybe Violet wasn't? She didn't seem like the type to hide, but you didn't know that much about her anyway.

As your train of thoughts was taking you to psychosis station, the little door bell rings and a familiar shape comes into view. Caitlyn looked stunning, as always, but this time an aura of happiness was surrounding her. She approaches your table and greets Violet first, your stomach ties up in a knot when you see your best friend's hand on Vi's shoulder; such a small cordial gesture that sends your brain direct instructions to make your heart panic and you smile vaguely in a lame attempt to compose yourself.

"I'm glad you're here too." Caitlyn says to Vi, then takes a seat next to you just when Powder was bringing you your coffee, so your best friends takes her chance and ask for one too. You see the teenager roll her eyes as she writes Caitlyn's order then takes off. "Not one to pretend, I see."

"It's not personal," Violet says, "she just wants to drive you nuts."

Caitlyn chuckles and grabs her purse, taking a few papers from it and putting them on the table. You wonder what the whole conversation was about, how could Powder have such a reaction to her and why. You were feeling so left out.

"This is the case I wanted you to help me with." Caitlyn says to you, you stare at her confused and then take a look at it. You go through the pages slowly, reading some of the colorful notes sticked on them that pointed to mistakes— probably done by her boss. It was a complicated one, you could see why she needed someone else's eyes on this, but you weren't sure yours would be fitting.

"Well, it's certainly... something," You comment as you keep reading, you turn the pages until you find the strategy the firm was going to take for it, "is the other party not willing to settle?"

"He's not." Violet says, swallowing hard and looking at her side. You weren't expecting her to answer and look at her confused, then follow her gaze and find she's watching her younger sister wrapping a donut and shoving it inside a tiny bag for a customer. The pink haired girl chuckles when she sees Powder rolling her eyes again once the customer turns on their back and leaves; she really wasn't made for customer service, but you can see why Vi would want her to work here. Powder was safe, surrounded by college students or teachers, just preparing coffee and making snarky comments to customers, in a place where her older sister could actually watch over her. "I have to go now," Violet says, getting up of her seat, "I'll see you around, cupcake." She winks at you and raises her hand to greet Caitlyn goodbye as well.

Your best friend looks at you and bites her lips to repress a smile, but you're too busy watching Violet leave in a rush and replaying in your mind the little nickname that seemed to have grown on you.

Looking down again at the papers on the table, you see the Kiramman's distinctive emblem. Your fingers caress it mindlessly in a circle, Cassandra did an amazing job at the design, it really represented everything they were going for: justice, status and transparency.

"Is something going on between you and Violet?" Suddenly you ask Caitlyn, who was about to take a sip at her coffee but leaves her mug on the table slowly and raises her eyebrows in surprise instead.

"What do you—” She was interrupted by her cellphone ringing, she reads the name popping on the screen and sighs. It was her boss. Feeling a bit embarrassed about your sudden question, you smile and tell her to pick up then get off your seat. It was already time to go back home and study for your exams, but mostly you just wanted to run from the situation; it was a question you weren't sure to want to know the answer. Caitlyn picks up her purse and stands up as well, it seemed her boss told her to go back to the office as quick as possible. "Please take the folder with you," she tells you, "I'll text you later if he doesn't kill me."

You nod and greet her goodbye, then walk past Powder, who was taking an order from the table next to yours.

"Bye, Powder." You tell her before opening the door.

"Goodbye, cupcake!" She yells back, laughing loudly and winking, clearly mocking the way her sister does it.

You smile softly as you cross the door then start walking back to your place, thinking the fresh air might clear your head.

"Go to sleep, Vi!" Ekko yells from behind the bar counter while cleaning some of the bottles, humming a french song he listened to the day before with his girlfriend.

"Glad you're having fun." Violet tells him, putting a big box with some more bottles softly on the floor next to him. She looks at him annoyed, there were more important things to do than singing and cleaning the most expensives bottles no one actually asks for.

"Take it easy, it's still early." He answers, returning the same annoyed stare and putting the bottle on its place. "Just go rest, I'll take it from here."

"Don't forget to—"

"Clean the tables and take a look at the stereo," Ekko interrupts her, "I know."

Violet nods and thanks him, turning around to go upstairs. The day couldn't be any more longer, although she was more concerned about the weekend; that's when the bar would be full and she wasn't sure Ekko could handle it on his own, Powder still hadn't asked for a free day at her job to help him out and there was no one else to replace her. She didn't want to miss her fight, she has been practicing a lot more and she could see herself getting better at it. Most of all, she didn't want to cancel her date along with it. Although it wasn't a date, not that she wouldn't want it to be but the other girl seemed pretty much oblivious to her advances. Or maybe she just wasn't interested.

Sighing, Violet sits down on the couch with her whisky glass filled in her hand. She takes a sip, slowly letting the liquid burn her throat while she watches it settle again inside. It wouldn't be long for the trial to be held and even if she trusted Caitlyn and the firm with all her heart, she couldn't help but feel nervous; her father's long life work was at stake, Powder's future and her own were too. She had a promise to keep to him and should it go down wrong, it would weight her until her final days.

College was just a back up plan, not that she didn't like the idea of it but her life and dreams were at The Last Drop. The only good part about it so far was that she could get to meet her tutor— more than that, she could befriend her and perhaps something more if only that girl would ever notice her flirting.

Smiling to herself, Violet grabbed her phone and texted her. She was hoping Caitlyn was right about her and that she would help them even a bit with the case, it would mean the world to Vi. Caitlyn had talked heavens about her best friend, saying she was smart and sweet, and Violet was glad to find out it was all true; the way she would carry herself or talk, even her small gestures were adorable. Not to mention she was incredibly attractive, it was so difficult for Vi to be near her, feel her body close and not be able to touch her, to caress her face, to slide her hands down her body and smell her perfume; she could imagine it all as she laid down on the couch, her imagination was driving her nuts. Her heart beating a bit faster as she fantasized of kissing her neck slowly, what her moans would sound like once she felt Violet leaving a trail of kisses down her body, softly helping her get undressed, piece by piece until there was nothing left separating them.

She would make her feel so good, teasing her just the right amount to hear her begging for more. Violet slid her hand under her pants, her body already feeling hotter than before and she wished those fingers weren't hers; the need to feel her was clouding her senses as she kept rubbing her own fingers against her clit, a vivid image of her tutor moaning Violet's name was in her mind. She'd caress and feel the skin of the girl's breast against her hand as she'd keep kissing all the way down, only stopping once she's close to where she's needed the most, licking and sucking, tasting her and watching her close her eyes, trying so hard not to finish right there and then.

"Fuck!" Violet let out a soft moan, she could feel her own orgasm building inside her as her fingers kept rubbing relentlessly. She could imagine the girl's hands on her pink hair, trying to ground herself as Vi would keep eating her out, making her moan and cum like she's never before, because she was sure of it. She could feel her own orgasm building inside her, she was so close to it— Someone knocked twice on the door and called her name. It was Ekko, yelling he needed her down at the bar because a customer was causing trouble with the payment.

Sighing heavily, she composed herself and got up to wash her hands. Her cellphone vibrated and she instantly grabbed it, smiling at the reply from the girl who wouldn't leave her thoughts. She had claimed ownership of her mind entirely, little by little with every interaction, every smile, every silly joke and even when she would blush because of Violet's endless teasing.

"good night, cupcake." Violet replied, trying to keep her thoughts off her fantasies.

It would be a long wait until the weekend arrives.

TAGLIST: @pokiiks , @sxdtxwn, @isansstuff, @gggranggger, @b-lossm

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foli-vora · 2 months ago

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run to you: chapter eight

marcus pike x f!reader

A/N: it's here. Finally. Don't look at me. Can't believe we only have 4 chapters to go after this one! I have such a deep fond love for this little universe and I'm so damn thankful for all of your comments, reblogs and asks! Your kind words make my bloody year! Hope you enjoy angels x

Summary: Following on from ‘Traitor’ and ‘You’re Somebody Else’. An unexpected visitor throws you right back into the life you thought you left behind. Working beside the man that put you behind bars is one thing, pretending like you never loved him is another.

Word count: 4.7k-ish

Warnings: angsttttt, swearing, general heartache and bittersweet goodbyes, a break in, these two make me want to listen to a heartbreak playlist all day and just cry

main masterlist | series masterlist

This story will have explicit sexual scenes in the future so 18+ only.

The words play in your mind as you make a beeline to the public bathrooms, a relentless cycle over and over and over. Your conversation with the consultant had been mind achingly frustrating, and yet, despite knowing his little tricks and various mental hoops he gets his chosen victims to jump through, you can’t help it—you give in.

You find yourself jumping through those damn hoops, letting his words drive you borderline insane.

Jane has it all wrong—so wrong—so why can’t you stop thinking about what he said? What would give him the impression that Marcus has feelings for you? Feelings that extend beyond the expected responsibility of a leading agent, and mere guilt lingering from their shared history.

Does he see something you can’t? Has he heard something? Found something?

The bitter tang of resentment builds in the back of your throat as your mind goes down more paths, creating more questions with no answers in sight. This is what he wants.

Jane wants you to be overwhelmed with questions and what ifs and a desperation for the truth, so you’ll go to him for the answers. So he can spin words, play and pick your brain some more. It’s a cycle, one that obviously works well for him. This is how he plays, and it’s vicious and cruel, and—

—and yet you still let his words confuse you, still mull over them in your head.

You keep fucking falling for it.

Your hands shake as they deposit your bag beside the sink, the cold water splashing over your skin doing nothing to divert your thoughts or distract you.

Of course there are no feelings anywhere.

Maybe this is just a ploy to hurt or embarrass Marcus—surely there’d be some bad energy there, given the history between them both. Maybe Jane’s not finding enough entertainment within the investigation and is instead making his own.

You don’t know. What you do know is that you refuse to waste one more fucking second wondering what is going on in that man’s head, and what his ploy is.

It hits you as you stare back at your reflection in the mirror, the obvious internal war written across your face with creases of stress and watery eyes—you can’t do this. You’re not cut out for this rollercoaster of drama. You’ve had enough.

Jane, the case, Marcus, the FBI—you’ve had enough of all of it. You’ve done enough, and Marcus has always said to tell him when you decide you’re done. He’s always said that you’re under no obligation to do anything you don’t want to do, that you could back out at any point. Or maybe that was just another lie.

The bitter part of you churns to life, still angry, still holding onto the aching resentment from the past. Vicious thoughts and memories tainted by heartbreak flood your mind, but it doesn’t seem to cut as deep as it usually would. He didn’t lie about that.

He said you were in control, he gave you his word—and you took it. You trust it.

Would he be disappointed?

You did tell him that you’d help, that you’d do what the FBI asked of you and get them the information they need, but at what cost? Your mental health was already taking hits, an array of emotions continuously assaulting you from merely being around Marcus again, let alone being bombarded and interrogated by some wanna-be mentalist freak from California.

No. He’d understand.

You dry up, blotting the paper towel across your throat and willing your heart to slow down as you look over your frame in the reflection. The wire’s still perfectly hidden, tucked deeply away under your jacket from where Marcus had pinned it, but the mere thought of it sitting there has a cold dread creeping along your veins.

That whole conversation with Jane had been recorded.

Marcus is going to listen to it. His team is going to listen to it. You can’t deal with the fallout of that. You can’t be humiliated like that. What would he do? What would he say?

Though of course you know the truth and that the idea of Marcus having any type of romantic inclination towards you is fucking ridiculous, you’re still not exactly fond of the idea of sitting there and listening to him explain why he does not, and would not, ever have feelings for you.

Maybe—maybe you could get ahead of it.

Surely if you just tell him, ask him, that the recording be discarded as you’re backing out. There’s nothing on there, there’s no need for it. Just delete it, forget about it and move on.

You grab your things and leave the safety of the bathroom, clutching your bag like a lifeline as you begin to make your way towards the exit, but then you see him. He’s a good distance away from the path you’re taking, and you wouldn’t have noticed him at all if you weren’t suddenly highly aware of every person milling about the building.

Edward Thomas.

Someone who had played a big part in your life before everything went to shit. He’d been involved with some of your replicas, their creations and the deals around them once they were complete. You weren’t aware of his exact place in all of it, but you know damn well it was much higher on the food chain than you.

He looks the same, despite everything. Did nothing happen to him when it all fell apart? Was he not arrested along with everyone else?

Probably not. He had money—serious money. He had connections. He had the network you had ensured to keep out of. Perhaps you would’ve been better following his footsteps, kissing asses and sucking up to the underground elites of the world, making more of a name for yourself behind closed doors. You would've been untouchable, invincible.

Where would you be now? Back in your penthouse, mostly unscathed and living life as normal.

There’s no use dwelling on it. It’s a can of worms you could continue to open and close for the rest of your life, wondering what if until it drove you mad.

Doing what Edward Thomas did, does—it’s not you. It wasn’t you back then, and it wouldn’t be you now. You just wanted to paint, you weren’t in it for the money. Although, admittedly, it did help.

You want to move towards him, to hover in the background beyond the group of smartly dressed people surrounding him, enough for him to see you, to peak his interest. This could be what Marcus, the FBI, needs. This could, potentially, help the investigation, if he is still doing dealings under the table.

But then what? You’d be stuck having to go further. There’d be no backing out. There’d be more drama, more headaches, more mind games, more lies. You can’t do it.

This has developed into something you don’t think you have the nerve for. The idea of it all seemed so easy when Marcus came to you, but the reality of it? You don’t have the mentality for it all. You’re not an agent. You’re not trained for this. You don’t have people behind you, covering for you and protecting you.

You turn away.

Rigsby lingers by the bathroom you had exited from, nose in a pamphlet showcasing the must sees of the museum, but his eyes flick to you as if to check on your movements. You swallow, give a barely there shake of your head and then continue on your way out, leaving him to alert Marcus that you had left.

—

You’re only a mere few feet away, but he can feel the distance that now stretches in between you. Distance that could never be removed or forgotten. The thick sheen of glass hides him from your gaze, but that doesn’t stop him from flinching when your eyes glance at the mirror upon entry.

He’s a coward. A fucking coward. He intentionally sat out on the move today, refused to be a part of the team bringing you in, all because he was scared of seeing your face and the look of betrayal in your eyes. Shit, he’s still scared now. Maybe that;s why he stays behind the glass, refusing to be a part of the interrogation.

You’re holding on so fucking strong, he’s damn near proud.

Jenner throws everything at you. He does all that he can, but when you don’t budge, he throws an apologetic glance towards the mirror that you thankfully don’t catch. It’s time to pull out the ace card, to let you know they had more on you than you think, and it makes him fucking sick.

He can’t move.

You’re confused when you hear the mention of his name, his real name, and why wouldn’t you be? You have no idea who he is, who he really is.

Sweat slicks his palm as he pulls at the door to the interrogation room, builds on the back of his neck under the crisp collar of his shirt as he takes a seat. He can’t look at you. He can’t look at you because he’s a piece of shit coward, unable to confront all the shit he’s done.

Bile stings at his throat.

It takes every fucking bit of him to keep it together.

The file is heavy in his hand as he slides it across the table before he finally manages to meet your gaze. It cuts him to the very core. He feels the hit of it deep in his chest. His jaw starts to ache from the pressure of keeping his teeth clenched tightly together, forcefully swallowing down every flicker of pain and guilt and self fucking loathing until he’s nothing but a blank slate.

Tears start to build rapidly in your eyes and he knows then and there that he’ll never forget that look of pure and utter heartbreak creasing your face. The face he had stroked so softly, kissed so lovingly.

“Special Agent Pike,” you rasp softly, almost choking on the words.

It’s a viciously harsh blow to the system and he falters almost immediately.

I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I’m sorry—

You don’t look at him anymore, and he’s almost glad for it. You’d see how he starts to crumble, how his tongue darts out to wet his lips in a panic and how Jenner makes a small gesture for him to take a deep breath and cool it before he says something that’ll end him in deep shit.

“I want a lawyer.”

—

“I can’t—I can’t do this anymore. Any of it.”

He seems to be expecting the words, taking them in with nothing but a small reassuring smile and a simple, “Okay.”

Honestly, you were expecting a little more. Maybe a few questions fired as to why you couldn’t do it when you seemed so intent on following through with it all originally, but when he says nothing else, you deflate. You wet your lips, wondering if there’s some sort of catch, but Marcus remains silent, watching the flutter of emotions pass over your face.

“That’s it?”

“When I told you that you’re in control of this, I meant it. If you’re done, then you’re done.”

Hearing him confirm it brings such a sweet relief to your mind, you can practically feel the weight of it all start to seep from your shoulders, but despite that guilt still sits in the pit of your stomach, uncomfortable and relentless. It falls from your mouth before you can even think to stop it—

“I’m sorry. I thought—I don’t know. I guess I just thought it would feel different, or be easier than it actually is. I think I’m just… tired. Of everything. I want—”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” he cuts in quietly, giving a small reassuring smile when you glance at him. “We asked a lot of you, and I understand that. It’s okay—really.”

Your conversation with Jane plays back through your mind, almost tauntingly. A small part of you wants to tell Marcus about it, he should know Jane’s off parading about on his own path without a care for the plans or rules or whatever it is that gets set in place during an investigation, but then what?

He’d want to know what he said, and you don’t have it in you to look him in the eyes and tell him. You don’t want to open yourself up to that embarrassment. Of course what Jane said is all bullshit, it’s ridiculous to even think about yourself, but to have Marcus bluntly tell you so would be a bit of a slap across the face.

“The recording,” you start with the creepings of hesitation, tongue rolling along your lips in an effort to bring the words out smoother, “what happens to it?”

A flutter of a frown creases his brows as he eyes you from across your kitchen before he gives a noncommittal shrug, finding no harm in your curiosity.

“It gets put in with the rest of the evidence.”

“Even if there’s nothing on it?”

“It would need to be cleared by an agent first, but if there’s nothing of use on it then it just gets discarded.”

“If—if I asked you to delete it now, without listening to it, is that… would you?”

The frown immediately deepens.

He seems to stand straighter, something seeping into his expression as your question lingers in the air, and you watch, waiting for the suspicion that doesn’t seem to come. He just seems concerned, whether on your behalf or his investigation you don’t know. He doesn’t seem to know that Jane had jumped on you at the museum, surely that would’ve been something he would address immediately upon seeing you after the last time, so you’re positive he’s unaware of what’s on it.

“I—” he stops, tongue running along his lips, “I can’t risk the case—”

“I wouldn’t ask that of you. There’s nothing worthwhile on it, but if I wanted you to forget about it and delete it, would you?”

Would you trust me?

It goes unspoken, but it lingers behind your words. Despite the anxiety churning in your stomach and the panic building in your chest from how he’ll take your request and what he’ll think of it, you’re curious. He has no reason to trust you whatsoever, especially given your history, but some sort of shaky foundation had been built between you over your time working with him—how far did it go?

His concern grows, and he takes a careful step towards you. “Has something happened?”

Should you tell him? No. Just be done with it all.

“Just answer the question.”

“What happened?”

“Marcus.”

The frown remains steady between his brows, his eyes unwavering as they focus on yours and study your features, but eventually, after a few moments of searching your expression, he gives a small careful nod. You can’t help but recoil slightly in surprise, not expecting the answer. You don’t even know what you were expecting.

Your first response is to call him out, because surely he wouldn’t, but as you watch him and the way he starts to shift almost nervously, you start to believe him.

“You would?” You question softly, brows pulling together. “Why?”

“Because you asked me to.”

That’s it? That’s all it would take?

He swallows, eyes falling to the floor as his hands find his hips. “Are—are you asking me to?”

“Maybe.”

“Can you tell me why?”

“No.”

It’s not an answer he wants, but he seems to accept it. His frown stays on you, his eyes bouncing back and forth between your own as he attempts to work out whatever you may be thinking. You see the conflict play across his face, the urge to push for more answers, the want to understand.

Something seems to click behind his eyes and you don’t know what to brace for in the seconds that follow. Anger? Accusations?

He strides towards the kitchen counter, takes the little device in hand and holds a small button along the side until it gives a small beep followed by a clear confirmation of ‘recording deleted’. It’s over and done with within the span of thirty seconds and you’re left reeling.

Holy shit. He did it. You stare, wide eyed as he tosses it back down and runs a hand over his mouth, before turning and pacing the small width of your apartment.

You watch him go.

There was nothing on it other than your little spat with Jane, but he didn’t know that. You could be hiding anything. You could’ve turned on him, evaded Rigsby’s watchful eye, found someone in your old circle and told them everything you and the FBI have been doing. Anything could’ve been on it, and yet he listened to you.

He trusted you.

“You could’ve just deleted evidence,” you breathe, still stuck in disbelief.

He knows it wasn’t. He fully believes you would never ask that of him, but at that very moment, he couldn’t have cared less if it was evidence. He would’ve dealt with it, like before. Technology isn’t always reliable, and issues almost always arise during cases with something tech-related. No one would know. No one would need to know.

“Yes,” he states plainly, and you’re so perplexed by the word and how he seemingly shrugs off his actions that you need to take another moment to process it.

“Just like that.”

He finally stops pacing, turning to face you fully.

“Just like that,” he echoes quietly.

This was a bad idea.

Not just the erasure of potential evidence and his apparent nonchalance regarding it and the risk to the position he had gruellingly earned over the years, but the whole thing.

The whole fucking thing.

He should never have bought you into this. He should never have knocked on your door. He’s right back to where he was back then, stuck and doing some very questionable shit he would easily lose his job over all because he’s an idiot.

You don’t hide away from his gaze, and he doesn’t shy away from yours. You’re still trying to work out his thought process, the logic behind his actions, and you keep coming up with nothing. There’s no reason why he would do something like this, for a nobody like you. There’s no motivation, no need on his side to do as you ask and blindly delete shit without questioning it further… unless—

Unless, what Jane said holds some merit.

Why else would he do it?

No.

Maybe he’s just doing it as a favour, to try and make up for all of the shit he put you through. That makes more sense than him having feelings for you. He hasn’t been around you enough to justify any sort of feelings—he doesn’t know you. Or is he carrying them from your previous relationship? But it’s been ages since you were together, and that was all fake back then. There was nothing real there, it was all a lie.

The headache is coming back.

You exhale slowly through your lips, eyes falling away from him and to the simple black device once more. It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. You don’t need to know any more. It’s all done. It’s over, and you can finally get back to your quiet little normal life. You can move on.

“Thank you.” And you mean it.

“Thank you,” he murmurs quietly, clearing his throat. “I know this must’ve been very hard for you, and we appreciate all of the hard work you’ve put into this investigation. I appreciate it.”

“It wasn’t so bad,” you half smile, the pull of it natural.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he huffs softly in amusement, slowly coming closer to pick up the device from the counter and tuck it away into his pocket.

“I mean, I wasn’t thrilled to begin with, but… it turned out okay.”

He smiles fully, and it hits just like it used to. You don’t look away. There’s no harm in taking it all in one last time. You won’t see him after this. You didn’t know last time, before it all fell apart. You didn’t get a chance to enjoy all of the little things you liked. You didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye.

“Well, I’ll—I’ll leave you to it. Thank you again. There might be some final paperwork, but I’ll post it out.”

You nod as you follow him slowly to your door, tucking your cardigan around you and crossing your arms tightly across your chest. You ache. Somewhere deep inside your chest twists, and your throat starts to tighten. You’re not exactly sure what you’re thinking when you call out to him before he can reach for the door, and you’re left with nothing to say when he pauses and turns to you.

There’s nothing to say. He doesn’t bother filling the silence. You stand there, eyes roaming his face in an effort to picture him as he was back then, when he was Alex. He lets you. There’s something there, something hanging in the stillness surrounding you both because you can feel it start to tug and twist at your insides.

Finality.

This is goodbye—a proper one.

It’s not Marcus you want to say goodbye to.

Slowly, deliberately, you step into him and he doesn’t move a muscle. He stills under the hand you steady yourself with on his arm, breath all but hardening in his lungs when your face nears his own.

Your lips press ever so softly to his cheek, only mere millimetres from the corner of his lips, and the shaky little exhale he lets out confirms it all for you.

Jane was right, but you have no idea just how much. He was in deeper than you could have possibly ever imagined. Everything was still there, simmering right under the surface and threatening to be his entire undoing. He doesn’t speak, can’t speak, for fear of saying the wrong thing and fucking this last little moment up.

He relishes in it, in the one final tender touch of your lips that sends his pulse to a heavy hammer beneath his skin. It kills him, destroys him, but he takes it willingly with an open heart. The final punishment to close the last chapter of your story.

His eyes are closed when you pull away, but they soon flutter open to meet yours, and they swim with all the apologies and guilt he doesn’t let himself say anymore. You’re thankful for it, you don’t want to hear it. Not now. Your lips tingle, and a warmth spreads along the skin of your cheeks.

“Bye Scribbles,” he rumbles finally, and you swear there’s a slight shine of tears in his eyes.

They mirror the ones suddenly building in yours.

Goodbye Alex.

“Goodbye Marcus,” you return softly, and then he’s gone.

—

He wants to tell you to run.

The words sit on his tongue: a beg for forgiveness, a plea to just get on the first plane out of the fucking country and disappear, and he damn near draws blood to stop himself.

Though he tidied up as much as he could, ensured there were appropriate plea deals in place and a chance for you to get out of this better than the others if you cooperated, he still dreaded the next few days.

You have no idea.

No idea that your world’s essentially going to shatter and come down around you, and it’s all his fault.

Your kisses feel like a punishment. Each one threatens to cut through his restraint, and when you whisper those three sweet words in his ear he wants to vomit.

He wants to tell you everything. He wants to explain that this fake persona you had given yourself to so fully was still him—it was all him, just under a different name.

He doesn’t.

He lets the guilt eat away at him, lets the heartache practically tear him apart from the inside out until he feels raw. There’d be no salvaging this. There’d be no walking away from this with you still on his side, and rightly so. This will fucking break you, and he’ll carry that for the rest of his life.

He sits up long after you fall asleep, studying each dip and curve of your face and committing it all to memory. He traces over your skin, attempts to smile when you sleepily wake from his touch and hides the presence of his tears by scooping you into his arms for the last time.

—

It’s surprisingly easy to return to life as it was before he knocked on your door. A weight had been lifted free from your shoulders, a promise of new beginnings born from finally gaining closure. Was it what you expected? No, but it was no less welcome.

You managed to get your old job back at the diner, and spent days sketching aimlessly in the park.

It was normal, until it suddenly wasn’t.

The door’s pried open when you return from a late night shift, the obvious signs of a forced entry with the wooden edges of the door chipped and the frame split from pressure. Your hand shakes as you push it open, stomach turning as it gives way to the utter chaos that is your little apartment. Your home.

Your things are everywhere, drawers are opened and the contents spilled out onto the floor, furniture upturned and tossed carelessly to the side. Someone had been looking for something, but you know you have nothing of worth. Not anymore. They wouldn’t have walked away with anything of significance but still, there’s a bitter sting of loss, of intrusion that seems to rattle you to the core.

Heart beating heavily in your throat, you carefully step over the mess and further into your small apartment, and beyond the thunder of your pulse you hear nothing else out of the ordinary. Whoever had been here was long gone, leaving nothing but destruction and questions in their wake. Who the hell did this?

He’s the first and only person that comes to the forefront of your mind, and when you shakily reach for your phone and find his name still saved in your small list of contacts, he answers after the second ring despite it being so late. You almost feel guilty for bothering him, but something about the way he seems so immediately concerned placates any doubt.

“Hi, I—I’m sorry, I don’t… someone broke into my apartment—”

There’s a sudden flurry of movement on his end that crackles down the phone.

“Get out of there,” Marcus demands, before you can even finish working out the right words to say.

He doesn’t tell you to call the cops, he doesn’t tell you it’s not his problem and that you’re on your own now. You feel a slight wave of relief, but facing the disaster of your apartment has a wave of vulnerability hitting you and your eyes start to burn.

“There’s no one here,” you mumble around the sudden dryness of your throat, “they’re gone. Can you—”

“I’m on my way. Listen to me, I need you out of there, do you understand? Do not touch anything, leave everything as it is.”

You nod, despite knowing he wouldn’t be able to see it, and step back out into the quiet corridor of your floor.

There’s no one around.

Your skin prickles with worry, your nerves working into overdrive to stay vigilant. Every quiet shuffle and bump beyond the walls of neighbouring apartments rattles your senses, and the hand holding your phone starts to shake. He must sense your panic, hear the way your breathing starts to pick up as your chest starts to tighten.

“It’s okay, I’m coming. Stay on the phone with me.”

“Okay,” you exhale as a tear tracks down your cheek, leaving a cool trail in its wake.

Maybe this is an overreaction. Maybe it’s just some random burglary, someone out to get a quick bit of cash for whatever they need, or maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s not all over as you had hoped. Has someone found you? Do they know who you are? Do they know what you did?

You feel sick.

Your voice catches in your throat, “Marcus—”

“I know. I’m coming.”

#run to you #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike #the mentalist fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader

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