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cheftsunoda · 2 months ago

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heal your heart—cl16

part four (a hefty amount of words)

smau + real life

carlos sainz x !sister singer reader

charles leclerc x sainz reader

catalina sainz has it all— she is a successful grammy award winning artist, her brother is a well known formula 1 driver, she has an amazing family and wonderful friends. she was also blessed with a fiance and a beautiful baby boy.. she had everything.. until she didn't. her fiance disappears and takes her son with him. catalina watches as her world crumbles...who will be there to help pick up the pieces?

fc : kali uchis

⚠️ATTENTION : TRIGGER WARNING! mentions of abuse, kidnapping, depression. ⚠️

part one here

part two here

part three here

f1gossipgirls

834,741 likes.

f1gossipgirls : Catalina Sainz had her custody hearing today and gave a raw and emotional testimony opening about years of mental, verbal and physical abuse by the hands of her fiance. Catalina was awarded full custody with absolutely no visitation rights for the father. Charles Leclerc - her suspected partner- and Carlos Sainz were by her side the entire hearing. Along with Lando Norris, Pierre Gasly, George Russell, Lewis Hamilton and more. Baby Mateo will return to the paddock soon!

username00 : i am SOBBING. she did it. she FOUGHT and she WON. queen mother catalina sainz we salute you

username10 : the fact that she stood in that courtroom and relived all that trauma… and STILL protected her baby boy. hero status.

username5 : charles, carlos, pierre, LANDO, LEWIS??? she really said “assemble the avengers” huh

username15 : OUR BABY MATEO IS COMING BACK TO THE PADDOCK

username0 : carlos sainz as big brother of the year. no further questions. the man was READY to go feral.

username1 : lando didn’t speak ONCE during that press conference after the hearing. just stared down the reporter that asked if the ex will appeal

username0 : literal death glare

username20 : I hope whoever said “she was being dramatic” when she left the spotlight chokes on this news. SHE WAS FIGHTING FOR HER LIFE

username17 : “suspected partner” lmao pls. charles was holding her hand, wiping her tears, AND glaring down the ex like a villain origin story. it’s not a suspicion. it’s fate.

now back to where we really left off...

charles pov

The laughter inside the house had faded, replaced by an unbearable silence. Carlos and I exchanged a look — the kind that says, something’s wrong. Horribly wrong.

“She went outside a few minutes ago,” Carlos said, his voice tight, nearly breaking.

My chest tightened. “Where is she?”

We ran out into the night, the cool air suddenly feeling sharp against my skin, like a warning. The streetlights flickered overhead as we scanned every shadow.

Then Carlos’s voice cracked, pointing ahead. “There.”

I followed his gaze and saw it — Catalina’s phone, smashed against the cracked sidewalk, its shattered screen reflecting the harsh light like broken promises. My heart lurched. I dropped to my knees, fingers trembling as I reached out, terrified of what this meant.

Carlos’s voice was rough, raw with fear and anger. “Who would do this? Where is she?”

I pulled out my phone, frantically dialing the number to her business phone, over and over. Each ring echoed like a countdown to despair. No answer. No signal.

"I think we both know who would do this." I managed to choke out.

Carlos’s jaw clenched so hard I thought it might shatter. “This... this isn’t just some stupid fight. He is gonna hurt her. Or worse.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and looked at Carlos. The pain in his eyes mirrored my own — helplessness, guilt, and a burning need to fix this.

“We have to find her. Now,” I said, voice low but fierce.

We called her name into the darkness, our voices raw, desperate. Every second felt like an eternity, every shadow a cruel reminder of how much was at stake. Carlos’s hand found my shoulder— a steady anchor amid the chaos. We wouldn’t stop until she was safe. We had to.

I was running before I even knew it—phone clutched in one hand, the broken pieces of Catalina’s still burned into my mind. Carlos was close behind, yelling her name into the darkness like it could somehow bring her back.

“Catalina!” I shouted, heart thundering, lungs burning. “CATALINA!”

No answer. Only the eerie quiet of the night, like the world was holding its breath.

We split up, scouring the streets, knocking on neighbors’ doors. Pierre and Lando had followed us out, confusion quickly turning to fear as we told them what we found.

Pierre’s jaw was tight. “Do you think it was him?”

“It has to be,” Carlos said. “He’s the only one who’d do something this reckless. He knows he’s lost.”

Lando pulled out his phone. “I’m calling the police.”

“I’m calling the lawyers,” Carlos added, already dialing. “And her security team—where the hell were they?”

I didn’t wait. I kept running. Past the corner. Past the line of hedges where we used to walk Mateo in the stroller. Past every version of safety we’d tried to build around her. My heart was in my throat. I couldn’t stop picturing her terrified, alone, in danger. I had promised her she was safe now. I had promised. The second I got signal, I pinged her phone’s last location. The dot blinked. Then vanished.

“She was taken,” I whispered. “This was planned.”

Carlos’s face hardened like stone. “Then he’s going to regret it.”

Sirens began to wail in the distance — too far, too late. The rest of the drivers had gathered by the time we returned to the house, George, Alex, even Lewis. No one had to ask what was happening. They saw it in our eyes.

“She’s family,” Lewis said quietly. “We’ll find her.”

“I won’t stop until we do,” I replied, and I meant it.

catalina's pov :

At first, I thought I was dreaming. Everything was muffled. My head throbbed. The last thing I remembered clearly was the buzz of my phone, a number I didn’t recognize, the instinct to step outside for air. Then — nothing. Now it's-- dark. cold. Something scratchy pressed against my skin — the seat of a car, maybe? My wrists were sore. Duct tape. My heart started to pound. No. No no no. I opened my eyes slowly. Blurry shapes. The interior of a van. The smell of cheap air freshener barely masking gasoline and something else — sweat and fear. Then I heard it. His voice.

“I told them this wasn’t over.”

The chill that ran through me was worse than anything I’d felt in that courtroom. Worse than childbirth. Worse than the endless nights I’d spent replaying years of him trying to erase me.

“You think some judge can take my son from me?” he growled. “You think Carlos and your boyfriend can protect you?”

"You think you can just get up there and make me look horrible in front of everyone? You are a lot more stupid than I thought, Bitch."

I didn’t respond. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of hearing my fear. But I couldn’t stop the tremble in my limbs. My baby. Mateo. Was he okay? Was he safe? Where was Charles? Tears stung my eyes, but I blinked them away. I needed to stay clear. I needed to survive.

“You should’ve stayed quiet,” he hissed.

"But you didn't and now I have to ruin your life...or end it."

I turned my face away. I wouldn’t cry for him. Not this time. Not anymore. I breathed, slowly, counting in my head like Charles taught me. Like I had done on the nights when Mateo wouldn’t stop crying and I was sure I was unraveling.

1… 2… 3…

He could hurt me. He could scream. He could drag me into the dark. But he wouldn’t win. Not this time. And somewhere, I knew — Charles was looking for me. Carlos was raging. Lando was running. Pierre was calling every contact in Europe. My family was coming. I just had to hold on. Just a little longer.

charles pov :

The sun was rising, but the world still felt dark. I hadn’t slept. None of us had. Carlos looked like he’d aged ten years in one night. His jaw was set so tightly it looked like it hurt to speak. He hadn’t said much, anyway. Just made calls. Punched a wall. Made more calls. I sat at the kitchen table, her phone laid out in pieces in front of me like a puzzle we couldn’t put back together.

“What was she doing out there alone?” I muttered, more to myself than anyone. “Why didn’t someone see something?”

Lando walked in with two coffees and handed me one. “She probably thought it was safe. Home. It was just a step outside. Who would’ve expected—?”

“She should’ve expected,” Carlos snapped. Then immediately winced. “Not her. I meant him. He waited for a crack. That’s how he always was.”

I nodded. My fingers were still trembling.

Pierre came in next, phone to his ear. “Interpol is involved now. That’s something.”

“Interpol,” Carlos repeated, rubbing his eyes. “Jesus.”

We had nothing. No new footage. No new leads. Just her broken phone and an eerie silence. No ransom note. No contact. Just... gone. And Mateo — God, little Mateo — he was upstairs in his crib with Rebecca and Kika taking turns holding him, like keeping him close would somehow keep Catalina safe, too. My heart physically ached. I kept thinking of the way she looked at me that morning, just before she went outside. Her eyes were soft. A little tired, but brighter than they’d been in weeks. She had finally seemed steady. Like she was climbing out of the wreckage of the last year. And now… she was out there somewhere. In pain. Scared. Maybe worse.

“We’re missing something,” I said suddenly. “Something small. Something stupid.”

Carlos looked up. “Like what?”

I gestured to the remains of her phone. “She wouldn’t have picked up a random number. She blocks everything that isn’t saved.”

He nodded. “Unless—”

“Unless she knew it. Maybe it was disguised.”

We both lunged for the laptop at the same time. Minutes later, we found it. A call routed through a system. Masked, but underneath… an old number. One she’d deleted. One she had asked me to delete from her contacts months ago. But one that, maybe, in a split-second of familiarity, she answered out of instinct. His number. We had a trace. Not much. But it was more than we’d had an hour ago.

Carlos stood. “We take this to the team. And to the police. Now.”

I followed him to the door, turning one last time to glance at the stairs where Mateo was sleeping.

“Hold on, Catalina,” I whispered. “We’re coming.”

catalina's pov - two days later

I think it’s been two days. I can’t be sure. The light doesn’t change much in here. A sliver of sun cuts through the boarded-up window in the corner, but it doesn’t reach me. Nothing does. My mouth is dry. My head is pounding. Everything hurts — my cheekbone, my ribs, my wrists, my pride. Hunger gnaws at me in dull, endless waves, but worse is the thirst. And worse than that is the silence. Except when he talks. He doesn’t yell. Not yet. That would require energy. He speaks slow, calculated. Like a man who’s convinced he’s won.

“I told you they’d never protect you,” he said this morning, crouching in the doorway like a shadow. “Where are your drivers now, Lina? Where’s your precious brother? Where’s Charles?”

Charles. The name hit me like a breath I couldn’t take. He doesn’t know what Charles is capable of when he loves someone. He doesn’t know that Carlos would burn the world down for me. That Lando would fly across oceans in a heartbeat. That Pierre has too many ghosts of his own to let me become one. That I am not alone. But… in this room, in this silence, it’s so easy to believe him. So easy to believe I was stupid to think I could ever win. I close my eyes and press my forehead to my knees, curled up on the floor like a child. My body is screaming, but I’m too numb to listen. My lip is split. My shoulder might be dislocated. Or maybe just badly bruised. It doesn’t matter. None of it feels real anymore. Maybe I should’ve just kept quiet. Maybe I shouldn’t have testified. Maybe this was always going to be the end. A quiet room. A locked door. And him winning. I hear his voice again — lazy, mocking.

“They’ll forget you. They’ll move on. I told you. You were never strong enough for this.”

I grit my teeth and hold back the sob clawing up my throat. My hand presses to my stomach, not for comfort — just to feel something. And then…A whisper of a memory. Mateo’s laugh. Tiny and warm and real. Charles’ arms around me, steady and strong. Carlos’ voice in the courtroom, cracked and furious. “She is not alone.” Maybe I was stupid to think I could have peace. But I’m not stupid enough to give up now. He hasn't won. Not yet.

charles pov :

We were running on fumes and adrenaline. Carlos hadn’t slept more than twenty minutes at a time. He was in full-blown survival mode — locked in, eyes cold, voice clipped. I don’t think I’d seen him this terrifyingly focused since our first years racing together. But this wasn’t a track. This was his sister. It had been 56 hours since Catalina vanished. And every minute she was gone, something in me frayed further. We’d been in Spain, back and forth between the coast and the countryside. Carlos had a private investigator running traces off her ex’s last known associates. The police were treating it like a domestic abduction, which gave us some pull — but not enough. Not fast enough. The break came from a toll booth camera. A grainy shot of a rental van heading into a remote wooded area northeast of Zaragoza — the driver matched the rough description of him. Catalina wasn’t visible, but Carlos knew. We both knew.

“He’s taken her off-grid,” he muttered, studying the map spread across the kitchen table of his parents’ house. “This road here — barely anyone uses it. There are old farms, vacant cottages.”

“Hideouts,” I said.

“Exactly.”

The investigator confirmed an abandoned property registered under a fake name. The kind of thing he would’ve set up before the trial — a plan B, just in case. He was always a few steps ahead. But not anymore.

Carlos stood up, clenching his fists. “We go now.”

I didn’t ask if we were waiting for the police. I didn’t ask if it was legal. I just grabbed my jacket and followed him out the door, lando following behind.

catalina's pov :

It’s getting harder to stay upright. I’m bleeding. Dizzy. My arms are shaking so badly I can barely keep them up, and he’s still coming. He has beaten me to the point where I can slowly feel the life draining out of me. I keep fighting. He’s enjoying it now. Enjoying watching me fight for what life I have left.

His voice is a cruel hum in my ear, saying things I’ve stopped registering. I just keep thinking about Mateo — the weight of him on my chest when he sleeps, his tiny laugh when I make the dinosaur voice, the way he says “mama” like it means everything. I feel the anger and strength in my core. If I die here, he won’t remember me. I scream and thrash as hard as I can, even though I know I won’t win. He throws me against the table. My shoulder hits first. The pain’s white-hot, and the world blurs. He steps over me. Knife in his hand. A jagged edge. My blood already on it.

“No one’s coming,” he spits. "You thought you won, huh bitch?"

"Well time is up." He said and pressed the knife against my jugular. The cool blade snaps me into reality. This is really it - this is my own chance.

BOOM.

The front door slams open like it’s been ripped off the hinges. I barely register the sound before I hear him.

“CATALINA!” Carlos. My brother. His voice is hoarse, shaking, wild with panic.

“Where is she?!” Charles.

“Oh my god—there!” Lando.

The three storm toward me and rip him off of me. I pull myself up, adrenaline being the only thing keeping me up straight. Charles rushes over to me, taking in my appearance.

“Cat, Cat—baby—it’s okay. I’m here.” He’s fussing, his hands moving over my arms, my face, checking me, grounding me—but my mind is only on one thing.

Revenge.

Revenge for the years of abuse and trauma. Revenge for stealing my son. Revenge for bringing me to the edge of death. Revenge for tearing me away from myself.

I can barely hear Charles. My vision has narrowed, tunneled in. I see the blade on the floor, slick with my blood. I reach for it.

“Catalina—wait—” I hear behind me, but it’s faint.

I wipe the blood on my pants. Cold. Mechanical. My heartbeat isn’t even racing anymore—it’s steady. Deadly steady. I push past Carlos, who startles as I move. My eyes lock on him, crumpled on the floor. Whimpering. Pleading. Just like I had, minutes ago.

His voice breaks. “Please—Cat—please—don’t—”

“I begged you too,” I whisper.

“Catalina—” Charles says again. This time closer. His voice is shaking now.

Carlos grabs at my arm, and pulls me towards him. His lips against my ear.

"It isn't worth it, Lina. I will have him dealt with, trust me." He said in a whisper.

The blade clattered against the floor. It echoed louder than I expected. Louder than his cries. Louder than my heart, which had finally begun to beat again, now in chaotic thuds against my ribs. I didn’t even feel Carlos pulling me against his chest until I was there — until the heat of his palm curled behind my head and my forehead met his collarbone. I was shaking. Violently. My knees buckled under me, and he held me upright.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, low and fierce. “He’s done. He’ll never touch you again.”

Behind us, I heard the sickening crack of Lando’s fist connecting with his face. Then the shuffle of movement—Lando swearing as he pulled his belt off to bind the bastard’s wrists behind his back. But my body wouldn’t move. My eyes were wide open but I couldn’t see anything. I heard his voice again. Choked. Spitting blood through split lips.

“A fit mother wouldn’t think about ending someone’s life, Catalina.”

The words sliced deeper than the blade ever could. My spine tensed. I started to turn back—but Carlos held me fast.

“Don’t give him what he wants,” he said. “Don’t let him take this moment from you, too.”

I was trembling, mouth parted in disbelief. In rage. In grief. I didn’t even realize I was crying until I felt the wetness slide over my chin. Charles was suddenly in front of me again, his hands on my face, gently guiding my eyes to his.

“Look at me,” he said softly. “You’re safe. You’re safe now.”

I searched his face—his beautiful, worried, furious face—and nodded. Barely. Carlos stepped in closer and wrapped his arms around both of us. His hand rested between my shoulder blades like a tether. Behind them, Lando was still working, his jaw tight as he finished tying the man’s ankles and muttering to himself in disgust. The air was thick with blood and the heavy fog of aftermath. No one said anything for a long moment. Then— I whispered, barely able to form the words.

“He tried to break me.”

Charles leaned his forehead to mine. “But he didn’t.”

Carlos nodded, voice sharp. “He never will again.”

Lando pulled the car up to the front, tires crunching over gravel, and I barely registered the sound. Everything was dimming now — the adrenaline had drained from my system, leaving behind only pain, exhaustion, and a hollow ache in my chest. Charles lifted me into his arms again, holding me bridal style as if I weighed nothing, though I could feel how careful he was being with every step. My body ached in ways I couldn’t describe, and it was getting harder to keep my eyes open. I clung to his shirt, my head pressed into the crook of his neck. As we approached the car, I spotted two unfamiliar men standing near Carlos — tall, serious, armed. Definitely not security. Not bodyguards. Something… darker. Carlos handed one of them a large, worn leather bag without a word, just a nod. The man accepted it like they’d done this before.

Carlos turned to us. “Get her to the medic. She’s fading fast.”

Lando didn’t hesitate—he slipped back into the driver’s seat, engine already rumbling. Charles eased me into the back, laying me down as gently as if I were made of glass. He didn’t let go of my hand. Not for a second. Carlos leaned into the open window, his eyes sharp but softening when they landed on me.

“Go get well. Go hold that beautiful baby of yours. I’m keeping my promise, hermana.”

He pressed a kiss to my bruised forehead, lingered there for a breath.

“See you soon. Love you.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, voice cracking. “I… I don’t even know what to say—”

He cut me off gently. “You don’t have to. My job is to protect you. Let me do it.”

I nodded, swallowing the knot in my throat. He tapped the roof of the car, and Lando pulled away. I kept my eyes on Carlos in the side mirror, watching him grow smaller, more distant. The two men flanked him as they entered the building. The door swung shut behind them. Five seconds later, a sound split the silence. Gunfire. Rapid. Merciless. Then screaming — awful, blood-curdling. I flinched. Charles squeezed my hand tighter.

“Don’t look back,” he said softly.

And I didn’t. I closed my eyes and let the darkness take me. Because for the first time in a long, long while…I wasn’t afraid anymore.

The car jolted to a stop, gravel crunching beneath the tires. I was barely aware of where we were, my head lolling to the side as the pain surged again, sharp and punishing. My body had become one deep bruise. My breath came in short, shallow gasps.

“We’re here,” Charles whispered, his voice close, grounding.

Warm arms gathered me again, lifting me from the back seat. I tried to speak—tried to ask if Mateo was inside—but the words wouldn’t come. Everything was static. Charles and Lando carried me through the gates of my childhood home, now transformed into a place of refuge. Safe. Familiar. It smelled like lemons and wood polish and my mother’s old perfume. We entered through the back, where the lights were dim and someone had already cleared a guest room. A woman stood waiting—middle-aged, with kind eyes and medical gloves already on. The medic.

“She’s lost a lot of blood. I need to check for internal injuries,” the woman said to Charles in a low voice. “You can stay, if she wants you to.”

“She wants me to,” he replied instantly, like it wasn’t even a question.

They laid me on the bed. The pain exploded when I moved and I couldn’t hold in the sound that tore from my throat. Charles was instantly beside me, holding my hand, brushing my hair back from my face.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, again and again. “I’ve got you, mon ange.”

The medic worked quickly—stitching a gash near my ribs, wrapping the bruises around my midsection, checking for concussion signs, forcing water down my throat in small sips. I tried to focus on Charles. On the way his eyes never left mine. On how he murmured soft things in French like a prayer under his breath.

When it was over, and I was clean, bandaged, and trembling in fresh clothes, the medic nodded at him. “Let her rest. Stay with her. She needs to know she’s not alone.”

I wanted to say thank you. I wanted to say everything. But exhaustion crashed over me. Charles climbed into the bed beside me without hesitation, pulling me carefully into his arms. I tucked my head beneath his chin. My whole body ached—but in his arms, I finally felt warm.

“You did so good,” he whispered against my hair. “You survived, mon cœur. You’re home.”

“I don’t feel like myself anymore,” I mumbled, my voice small and wrecked.

“You will. Piece by piece,” he said, kissing my forehead. “We’ll find her again.”

I clutched at his shirt, letting the sobs rise now that it was safe to let them. He held me through every single one. And in that room, in the house I’d run from and come back to, I started to believe maybe healing was possible—because Charles was holding my broken pieces like they were sacred.

The room was bathed in golden dusk, the last traces of sunlight curling around the edges of the curtains. I was curled beneath the blankets, every muscle in my body sore and frayed, but the pain was quieter now—held at bay by bandages, medicine, and the steady presence of the man who had barely left my side since I’d been carried out of hell. Charles had stepped out to take a call. It was quiet now. Too quiet. The door creaked open. I didn’t look up—I didn’t need to.

Carlos.

He stepped in with the same careful energy he always used when I was hurting, like he was afraid one wrong move might crack me open again. He didn’t say anything at first. Just dragged the chair beside my bed a little closer and sat.

"Hey," I said softly, turning my head toward him.

He looked tired—bone deep. There was dried blood on the sleeve of his sweater. I didn’t ask whose it was.

“You okay?” he asked. The words were simple, but his eyes were swimming with something far heavier.

I nodded slowly. “Getting there.”

He gave a slight nod back, jaw tight, like he was holding something inside he couldn’t quite let out.

“You got me back,” I whispered.

He exhaled hard. “Yeah.”

A pause stretched between us.

"Thank you, Carlos. For… everything."

He didn't answer at first. Just leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. Then, without looking at me, he said, "There are some things a brother shouldn’t have to forgive himself for. And there are some things… a man shouldn’t be allowed to walk away from."

My breath caught. My stomach twisted—not from fear, but from understanding.

“You don’t have to say it,” I whispered.

He finally looked at me, and for a moment I saw something behind his eyes—something dark, final, and brutally calm.

“I know,” he said quietly. “But I need you to know you’re safe now. Really safe. No one’s ever going to touch you again.”

"I knew that if I let you do it, you'd live with it the rest of your life and that haunted me. I need you to be able to grow from this, to move on, to get married to someone who actually loves you, to raise my nephew."

A slow silence fell between us. My throat felt raw, my chest too full to breathe.

“Carlos…”

He shook his head and stood, coming to the edge of the bed and brushing a strand of hair from my face. “You rest. Be with Mateo. Be with Charles. Let yourself come back.”

I reached for his hand and squeezed it. He didn’t pull away.

“You always knew how to clean up my messes,” I said softly, trying to smile.

He gave the faintest smirk, but his eyes were glassy. “You were never the mess, Lina. He was.”

He leaned down and kissed my forehead gently—just like he had when we were kids and I’d fallen off my bike or woken from a nightmare.

“Te amo, hermana.”

And then he left—quiet as he’d come in. He didn’t say what he did. He didn’t have to. I knew. And for the first time in a long time, I felt safe enough to close my eyes and sleep.

The house had gone still. The kind of stillness that comes after a storm—the air heavier, quieter, like even the walls were holding their breath. I lay curled under a soft throw blanket in my childhood bedroom, every inch of my body aching, stitched together by gauze and silence. My heart, though—my heart was still trying to remember how to beat. How to believe I had made it out. That I was still here. That I was whole enough to hold him. I heard the soft pad of footsteps outside the door. Then a knock. Not Charles—his knock was always gentle, hesitant. Carlos had already come and gone. This one was quieter. Then came a second sound: a soft, hiccupping whimper. And I knew.

“Come in,” I rasped, barely above a whisper.

The door opened slowly. Rebecca stepped in first, eyes kind and brimming. In her arms, bundled in a soft blanket, was Mateo. My breath caught in my throat. He was heavier than I remembered. Bigger. His curls had grown, messier, darker. But his eyes—those wide, soulful eyes—were still the same. He looked at me like he wasn't sure if I was real.

"Hey, mi amor," I whispered, my voice shaking. "Hi, baby."

Rebecca crossed the room slowly and knelt by the bed, lowering him into my arms. The moment his small body rested against mine, it was like the world cracked open. He blinked up at me. Then touched my cheek with his chubby fingers, right where a bruise was fading. I cried. Quietly. Without restraint. The kind of cry that comes from a place buried deep—where grief and joy and relief live all tangled up together. And he—my beautiful boy—just nestled into me.

“I missed you so much,” I whispered, kissing his forehead, over and over again. “I looked for you every second. I didn’t stop. I never stopped.”

He made a small cooing sound, like he understood. I wrapped my arms around him tighter, careful not to press too hard against the bruises still healing, and rocked gently side to side. Just the two of us. The rest of the world melted away. I didn’t care that my body still throbbed or that I hadn’t eaten more than toast and soup. I didn’t care that my phone was buzzing somewhere or that tomorrow there would be lawyers, reporters, whispers. Right now, I had him. And he had me. And we were safe. Rebecca stood back quietly. I caught her eye and mouthed, thank you. She gave a soft nod and slipped from the room, closing the door gently behind her. I curled myself around Mateo and hummed the lullaby I used to sing to him when he was a newborn—broken, uneven, and trembling, but still a lullaby. His breathing slowed. His body relaxed. And as his tiny fingers curled into my shirt, I finally let myself believe -We were home.

The room was dim, lit only by the golden spill of late afternoon sun through gauzy curtains. Mateo slept against my chest, one small fist still tangled in the fabric of my shirt, his cheek warm against my collarbone. I hadn’t moved in over an hour. I didn’t dare. I’d forgotten what it felt like to just breathe with him in my arms. To feel the rise and fall of his tiny chest. To know he was safe. That we were safe. The door creaked slightly, and I looked up. Charles stood in the doorway, quiet as a shadow. He didn’t speak—just leaned his shoulder against the frame, arms folded, eyes soft. A look on his face like he was witnessing something sacred. I gave him a tired, barely-there smile.

“You’ve been standing there a while,” I whispered.

He smiled back. “Didn’t want to break it.”

I looked down at Mateo, brushing my lips against his forehead. “He didn’t cry once,” I murmured. “Just... curled into me. Like he remembered. Like he knew.”

Charles stepped in slowly, his movements careful, reverent. He crouched beside the bed and reached out, brushing a curl from my cheek. His fingers were gentle, but the way he looked at me—like I was breakable and invincible all at once—nearly undid me.

“You’re his entire world, mon cœur,” he said softly. “Of course he remembered.”

Tears welled in my eyes, and I let them fall. For once, I didn’t feel the need to apologize for them.

I leaned into Charles’ touch, closing my eyes. “I didn’t think I’d ever get this moment,” I whispered. “I thought... he’d grow up without me. I thought he’d forget my face.”

“He won’t,” Charles said. “He won’t forget. And you’ll remind him every day.”

I opened my eyes and looked at him.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” I said, my voice cracking. “For everything. For not giving up on me. For finding me. For staying.”

Charles leaned in and kissed my forehead, just next to a fading bruise.

“I would’ve searched every corner of the world,” he said. “I would’ve burned it down to bring you home.”

Mateo stirred slightly and let out a small sigh, his little hand patting against my chest before settling again. Charles smiled, his hand now resting gently over Mateo’s back.

“Is this what you want?” he asked quietly, almost like he was afraid to break the fragile peace in the room. “This... life. With him. With me.”

I blinked at him. “Charles,” I whispered, “You are the only thing that has felt safe in the middle of all this. I want this more than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

He nodded, pressing another kiss—this one softer, lingering—against my temple.

“Then we start here,” he said. “The three of us. One step at a time.”

And in that moment, for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, I believed we could.

p4:)))

i decided i will add a part 5 just to show how cat has healed and her relationship with charles and her happy ending!! will be posted shortly

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@ninass-world , @blackmage24 , @cinderellawithashoe @sarx164 , @greantii

@charli123456789 @anunstablefangirl @hadids-world @jkoooooooookie @ @mischiefmanaged21 @dying-inside-but-its-classy @bravo-delta-eccho @cxlpxrnia @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @yara011 @kodzuvk @yawn-zi @rorabelle15

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liuhsng · 5 months ago

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✩ˎˊ˗ when fate calls ( psh ! )

✩ˎˊ˗ part of the untouchable series | enhypen masterlist

⤷ pairing — sunghoon x fem!reader

⤷ word count— 20.6k ⤷ taglist for the series — open !

⤷ warnings — a/b/o au, foul language, slowburn, enemies to lovers trope, mentions of drinking and alcohol, heavy angst + tooth-rotting fluff, indenial!sunghoon, mentions of the other parts from this series, not proofread

✩ˎˊ˗ summary — as the eldest son of a powerful family, park sunghoon has always followed tradition, dedicating himself to his responsibilities. relationships never crossed his mind, his focus was on the life carefully planned for him. but then there was you, someone he had seen countless times yet never truly noticed until now. when realization dawned on him that you were his mate, it unsettled him in ways he couldn’t explain. it unsettled him in ways he couldn’t explain. the unexpeced idea of love terrified him, so he rejected the traditional courting that came with claiming an omega. but as his avoidance hurts you, the high and mighty alpha is forced to confront the truth he’s been running from: some things aren’t meant to be planned.

Park Sunghoon stared at the untouched coffee sitting on the edge of his desk, its heat long gone, leaving behind an aroma that lingered in the air. The clock on the wall ticked softly, mocking him with its glowing digits, 3:14 A.M. He was supposed to be asleep hours ago, but here he was, hunched over stacks of neatly organized paperwork. His bedroom, once a place of rest, now served as an office.

As the eldest, it wasn’t just expected of him to succeed, it was demanded. Every report and signature carried the weight of the Park name. Sunghoon leaned back in his chair, his head tilting toward the ceiling, eyes heavy with exhaustion.

The faint ache in his temples grew sharper, but he ignored it, just as he ignored the way his inner Alpha growled in frustration. "You’re supposed to take care of yourself—for her," it growled. "How will you protect an Omega if you can’t even do this much?"

His jaw clenched as he let out a quiet scoff. “There is no Omega,” he muttered under his breath, as if saying it aloud would somehow silence the voice.

The thought of having a mate, someone who would rely on him, only added to his frustration. He was already drowning in expectations, chained to a life that had no room for distractions, let alone love.

but his inner alpha didn’t back down, the primal side of him rebelling against his neglect. it clawed at him, not with anger, but with frustration, urging him to stop, to rest, to breathe.

sunghoon shut his eyes briefly, a bitter laugh slipping out as he rubbed the back of his neck. the idea of prioritizing himself, of prioritizing someone else in the future, felt absurd. he didn’t have time to indulge in instincts or fantasies, not when there was a legacy to uphold.

he opened his eyes, his gaze falling to the cold coffee cup, his reflection faintly visible in the dark liquid. the alpha in him stirred again, growling low and dissatisfied, but this time sunghoon ignored it entirely. with a sharp sigh, sunghoon pushed the cup aside, the clock’s ticking growing louder in the silence. the hours dwindled, and morning was creeping closer, but he knew sleep wasn’t an option.

there was work to be done, and park sunghoon never left anything unfinished.

Sunghoon ran a tired hand down his face, sighing as his bloodshot eyes scanned the even larger pile of paperwork that greeted him. As the student council’s marketing director, his responsibilities seemed endless, and the fluorescent light overhead only made the mess on his desk look worse.

It was 6 A.M., and he was the first in the council room. Of course he was. He had made it a habit to arrive early, more out of necessity than enthusiasm.

A brief pang of guilt crossed his mind as he remembered his sister. He hadn’t been able to wait for her like he usually did, leaving the house before dawn without a word. “I’ll have to apologize later,” he muttered to himself, though the corners of his lips twitched upward in a humorless smirk.

Knowing his sister, she was probably already in Sunoo’s car by now, laughing about something with the Alpha. It didn’t help that Sunoo wasn’t just his best friend. The boy with the pink hair was also her Alpha, a relationship that Sunghoon had begrudgingly accepted but couldn’t help but feel protective about.

The thought made him snort under his breath. Of course, she’d be fine; Sunoo never missed an opportunity to step in, no matter how early it was.

The sound of the heavy, wooden doors swinging open pulled him from his thoughts. Jay walked in first, his tie already loose and his uniform jacket slung over his shoulder. The Alpha paused mid-step, his eyes narrowing as he took in Sunghoon’s slouched posture.

“Dude, you look like shit,” Jay said bluntly, tossing his bag on his own desk.

Sunghoon didn’t bother looking up. “Good morning to you too,” he replied dryly, his voice as flat as his expression.

Jake followed close behind, a half-eaten breakfast sandwich in hand. He took one look at Sunghoon and immediately stopped chewing. “Holy shit, did you even sleep?” Jake asked, his tone laced with disbelief. He gestured vaguely at Sunghoon’s face. “You look like a ghost.”

“Thanks,” Sunghoon deadpanned, leaning back in his chair as he crossed his arms. “Really needed to hear that.”

Jay snorted, leaning against his table. “You know, for someone who’s supposed to be a pureblooded, strong Alpha, you’re doing a great job of looking half-dead.”

Sunghoon gave them both a sharp glare but didn’t have the energy to retort. Instead, he pinched the bridge of his nose, groaning at the headache that was forming. “I’m fine,” he muttered, though the dark circles under his eyes said otherwise.

“Yeah, sure,” Jay quipped, grabbing a stack of paperwork that was messily sitting on top of his table. “Keep telling yourself that, man.”

Jake raised an eyebrow, still looking skeptical. “You’re not going to drop dead on us, right? Because I’m not carrying your heavy ass to the nurse’s office.”

“I’m fine,” Sunghoon repeated, though even he wasn’t convinced by the words.

Jay exchanged a look with Jake, both Alphas sharing a sigh before Jay set his own paperwork down on the desk once again. “You know, if you die,” Jay began with a mocking grin, his tone more teasing than serious, “you do realize you’re going to leave all of this on your sister’s shoulders, right? She’ll probably curse your name for eternity.”

“Or possibly your mate,” Jake chimed in, his voice casual as he gestured toward Sunghoon. “You know, the one you’re supposed to be taking care of in the future by not working yourself into an early grave?”

Sunghoon stiffened at the mention of a mate, his jaw tightening. He hated when they brought it up, and Jake knew it. “I don’t have a mate,” he said coldly, his gaze darkening as he turned to the next set of papers.

Jay opened his mouth to add another comment, but before he could speak, a new voice cut through the room.

“Yeah, as if,” Heeseung’s voice drawled from the doorway, his tone laced with amusement.

He was leaning casually on the wooden door frame, arms crossed as he looked at Sunghoon. “He runs away from any Omega he sees. Poor guy probably wouldn’t know what to do if his mate actually showed up.”

Jake snorted, leaning on his own desk as he tossed his sandwich wrapper into the trash. “He’d probably pass out on the spot,” he added with a grin.

“Or just bury himself in more paperwork,” Jay said, shaking his head. “Honestly, Sunghoon, you’re making all of us pureblooded Alphas look bad.”

Sunghoon glared at the three of them, his annoyance visible. “If you’re all done wasting my time, I have work to do,” he muttered, his voice sharp as he pointedly ignored the way Heeseung’s comment bothered him more than it should.

But Heeseung wasn’t finished. “You know, it’s funny,” he mused, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “For someone so obsessed with rules and traditions, you’re awfully quick to ignore the most important one.”

“I have no time for this,” Sunghoon snapped, his tone colder now, though the way his pen stilled in his hand betrayed his frustration. His eyes stayed glued to the paperwork in front of him, refusing to meet Heeseung’s knowing gaze.

“No time for what?” the older Alpha challenged, his voice calm but laced with amusement. He stepped further into the room, his smirk deepening as he leaned casually against the side of his desk. “No time for the idea of a mate? No time for the Omega who’s meant to balance out that storm in your head? Or is it just no time for things you can’t control?”

“I said, drop it,” Sunghoon growled, his Alpha instincts flashing briefly in his tone as he clenched his jaw. His fingers gripped the pen so tightly it looked like it might snap in his hand.

Heeseung raised an eyebrow but didn’t back down. “I’m just saying,” he continued, his tone now more neutral, “if you keep running from it, you’re only going to make it worse. You think ignoring it will keep things normal the way you want it to?”

Sunghoon’s chest rose and fell as he took a deep breath, his irritation now mixed with something deeper, something he didn’t want to acknowledge.

He glanced briefly at the clock, as if that would give him an escape, before returning to his work. “I don’t run from anything,” he said quietly.

Heeseung’s scent spiked up then, as if challenging Sunghoon. The sharp scent of coffee and leather surrounding Sunghoon spiked in response, tension building between the two pureblooded Alphas as the room seemed to pulse with an unspoken challenge.

But Heeseung tilted his head, studying Sunghoon for a moment. “Whatever you say,” he said finally, his smirk softening into a faint smile.

“But don’t come crying to us when it all catches up to you.” With that, he pushed off the desk, casually moving the placard on his own desk that read Vice President, Lee Heeseung, sliding it to the side as he stood up, making it clear that he wasn’t going to stay much longer.

Heeseung strode toward the door, hands casually shoved into his pockets, his movements deliberate but effortless. Just before he left, he threw a glance over his shoulder at Sunghoon. “See you later, Park,” he called, his voice light but carrying an unmistakable edge.

“I mean, he had a point,” came a new voice from the doorway, breaking the silence. Their gaze snapped up, and Sunghoon saw Sunoo leaning casually against the frame, his usual carefree demeanor somehow at odds with the tense atmosphere.

The pink-haired Alpha’s arm was slung over his sister’s shoulder, and despite the casualness of the gesture, Sunghoon couldn’t help but feel annoyed at the sight of it. Sunoo didn’t drop his arm but instead moved it to hold her hand, intertwining their fingers as if marking his claim on her.

Sunghoon clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing as he watched them. “Right, you’re mated to my sister,” he said, the words coming out almost like a warning as his gaze flicked from Sunoo to his sister.

Sunoo grinned, unfazed by the glare. “Yeah, well, we did kind of notice you were a little… tense. Thought we'd come and check on you.”

“How long have you two been standing there?” Sunghoon asked, his voice laced with a hint of exhaustion. His patience was already running thin after the exchange with Heeseung, and now this.

Sunoo shrugged, his smile widening as he stepped further into the room, his mate right beside him. “Long enough to hear your conversation,” Sunoo replied, his voice light.

“And to know you’re not fooling anyone,” Sunghoon's sister added, her tone teasing but with a hint of seriousness. “Not even your inner Alpha, by the way.” She shrugged, as if the comment was an afterthought, but it hit right where it mattered.

Sunghoon glared at them both, irritation flashing in his eyes. He wanted to deny it, to brush it off as just another conversation about his future, but deep down, he knew they were right.

The hallway seemed to clear instinctively as the student council made their way through. A group of powerful pureblooded Alphas, they carried themselves with the kind of confidence and authority that left no room for doubt about their status.

Ni-ki, ever energetic, walked in front, his eyes filled with curiosity as he turned to Jake. “So, about the proposals under the secretary committee…” he began, his voice full of interest. “Do you think there’s anything the public relations committee can help with?” Ni-ki’s gaze flickered to Jake's tablet, whose fingers were drumming absently on the screen.

Jake looked up from the screen, considering the question for a moment. “You guys could help with the promotions. We need the best PR support for this one.”

“Right,” Ni-ki nodded, clearly processing the info. “I’ll talk to them about the promotions then. We’ll get it done.”

Meanwhile, Heeseung and Jungwon were having their own little debate, their voices rising in the back as they argued about something entirely unrelated to council work. “I’m telling you, that new pheromone perfume? It’s garbage. They’re marketing it like it’ll solve everything,” Heeseung said, shaking his head.

Jungwon chuckled, shaking his head. “Garbage or not, some Betas are eating it up. You can’t deny it’s working.”

Heeseung rolled his eyes. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

Trailing just a step behind, Sunoo and Jay passed a football between them, their movements smooth and practiced. “Why are they always like this?” Sunoo muttered, his gaze flickering to the pair ahead.

Jay shrugged, catching the ball effortlessly before tossing it back. “It’s entertaining. Besides, this is tame for them.”

Sunghoon, walking a bit apart from the group, scrolled through his tablet with furrowed brows. His father had sent over another set of files, and while he was used to the constant influx of work, it didn’t make it any less exhausting.

“Seriously, Jungwon, you’re impossible,” Heeseung muttered, shaking his head as he dodged Jungwon’s attempt to nudge him.

“Not like you have a choice,” Jungwon teased, flashing a mischievous grin.

Behind them, Sunoo caught the football mid-air and smirked. “I bet Heeseung’s just mad because Jungwon actually has a point for once.”

Jay chuckled. “Don’t push it. You know how he gets when he’s losing.”

Their banter continued, but Sunghoon remained in his own bubble, his fingers scrolling mechanically over the screen. That was until a familiar voice called out.

“Jake!”

The group collectively slowed, all their attention flicking to you as you approached. Jake stopped in his tracks, lowering his tablet to meet your gaze.

“Hey,” you said, slightly out of breath. “I need your help with something.”

Jake’s brows furrowed slightly. “What’s up?”

You handed him your tablet. “It’s about the proposal breakdown you sent. The third column—again, it’s all messed up, and I can’t figure out why.”

Jake blinked and then laughed softly, shaking his head. “That thing’s cursed.”

You groaned. “Please tell me you can fix it.”

“Of course.” Jake started tapping on your screen, walking alongside you as he explained the error. You nodded along, grateful for his patience.

Behind you, Sunoo and Jay exchanged a glance, their conversation fading as they tuned into yours. Sunoo tossed the ball back absently. “They’re a bit too comfortable, don’t you think?”

Jay smirked faintly, his tone teasing but light. “Maybe Jake’s just that charming.”

Sunghoon’s jaw tightened, his fingers pausing on the screen as he forced himself not to glance in your direction. Something about the way you walked so effortlessly into their group, completely unfazed, grated on his nerves. His inner Alpha stirred, but he pushed the feeling down.

Jungwon, noticing the way Sunghoon’s scent subtly shifted, leaned toward Heeseung. “You smell that?” he whispered, a sly grin forming.

Heeseung, ever the observant one, smirked knowingly. “Oh, I smell it alright.”

Sunghoon’s eyes flicked up briefly, landing on you and Jake. He quickly looked back down at his tablet, though the irritation bubbling under the surface didn’t fade.

“You good, man?” Jay called out, the football now tucked under his arm.

“I’m fine,” Sunghoon muttered, his voice clipped.

“Yeah, just approach me whenever you need help with that,” Jake said, his tone casual as he handed your tablet back. A small, easy smile tugged at the corners of his lips, the kind that made it impossible to feel tense around him.

You mirrored his smile, genuinely grateful. “Thanks, Jake. I’ll let you know if anything else comes up.”

Turning your attention to Ni-ki, who was walking just slightly ahead, you called out, “Oh, and Ni-ki, I already mentioned the pending tasks to Jake earlier. I think some members of the secretary committee might be able to lend a hand if you’re short on people for logistics.”

Ni-ki glanced back at you, surprised but clearly impressed. “Really? That’d be a huge help. Thanks, (Y/N).”

So you were close to Ni-ki too? Sunghoon’s grip on his tablet tightened slightly, his jaw ticking as he skimmed the lines of text that no longer registered. His focus wasn’t on the files his father had sent him anymore; it was on you. You were supposed to be under Jake’s committee, and yet here you were, chatting easily with Ni-ki like you belonged in every conversation.

Jake noticed the subtle exchange and shook his head with a playful scoff. “You’re getting way too independent for my liking, Nishimura,” he teased, shooting the youngest Alpha a pointed look. “You’re consulting (Y/N) without even running it by me first? Seriously?”

Ni-ki smirked, unfazed by Jake’s mock scolding. “(Y/N)’s good at this stuff. Besides, teamwork, right?” He threw Jake’s own words back at him, grinning.

You laughed, shaking your head at their banter. “Don’t worry, Jake. You’re still the boss. Ni-ki just wanted to cover his bases, and I figured it couldn’t hurt to get a head start.”

“See?” Ni-ki said, raising a brow at Jake. “Efficiency. Maybe you should try it sometime.”

Before Jake could retort, Sunghoon cleared his throat, a sharp sound that cut through the light-hearted conversation like a blade. Everyone stopped talking almost instantly, turning their attention toward him.

“My next class is just around this corner,” Sunghoon said, his voice calm but clipped, as if he wasn’t in the mood to entertain any further distractions.

His gaze briefly flickered to you, unreadable yet heavy, before he shifted his attention back to the tablet in his hands. Without another word, he began walking ahead, leaving the group behind.

Jay and Sunoo exchanged glances, the teasing smirks they’d been wearing moments ago replaced by something more knowing. Sunoo raised an eyebrow at Jay, who shrugged, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Interesting,” Jay muttered under his breath, loud enough for Sunoo to hear but quiet enough to avoid catching Sunghoon’s attention.

Sunoo nodded slightly, his lips twitching in amusement as he leaned closer to Jay. “Very interesting.”

You, oblivious to the subtle exchange between the two Alphas, kept walking alongside Jake, still completely engrossed in the conversation. “Anyway, just let me know if there’s anything else I can help with. I don’t want to overstep, but I figured I might as well be useful where I can.”

Jake chuckled, his laid-back demeanor putting you at ease. “Overstep? You? Nah, you’re just making my job easier. Keep it up, (Y/N).”

Meanwhile, Sunghoon, now a few steps ahead of the group, tried to keep his focus on the files displayed on his tablet. But no matter how hard he tried, his thoughts kept drifting back to you—walking too close to Jake, smiling too easily at his jokes, and being too comfortable in a group of Alphas where Sunghoon felt like you stood out the most.

His inner Alpha stirred uneasily, frustrated and annoyed at the pull you had over him. He hated how it made him feel, how he couldn’t seem to control the way his senses sharpened whenever you were nearby. His scent of coffee and leather spiked faintly as he clenched his jaw, pushing the feelings down as best he could.

Heeseung, noticing the slight change in Sunghoon’s posture and scent, smirked to himself but didn’t say a word. Jungwon, however, nudged Heeseung with his elbow, his expression smug.

“Called it,” Jungwon whispered, earning a chuckle from Heeseung.

You, still entirely unaware of the tension you were unknowingly creating, glanced toward Sunghoon’s retreating figure for a moment, a small frown of curiosity crossing your face before you turned back to Jake. “Do you think he’s okay?” you asked, your voice tinged with concern.

Jake glanced ahead, following your gaze to where Sunghoon had disappeared around the corner. “He’s fine,” he replied, though there was a knowing edge to his tone. “He just takes things a little too seriously sometimes. Don’t worry about him.”

But you did. You couldn’t help it.

And neither could Sunghoon.

The classroom buzzed faintly with the low hum of people talking and the scratching of pens on paper. Sunghoon sat by the window, his tablet propped up in front of him, displaying spreadsheets and documents his father had sent over earlier, but his eyes weren’t on them. Instead, they were fixed on the gray sky outside, his thoughts wandering far from budget allocations and meeting agendas.

You.

You’d been on his mind since lunch, and no matter how much he tried to push the thought of you away, it kept resurfacing and demanding his attention. You’d always been around, working under Jake in the secretary committee. He knew you, he had seen you countless times in meetings and events.

But you’d never lingered in his thoughts before. So why now? Why did the sight of you walking beside Jake earlier make something in his chest tighten uncomfortably?

The faintest hint of honey and lilac lingered in his memory, soft but intoxicating. He swore he could still smell it even now, though he knew it was impossible. Your scent—it clung to his thoughts.

His jaw clenched, and his brows furrowed as he tapped his pen against the desk. He didn’t understand it. There was something about you that had his Alpha instincts stirring, clawing at the edges of his mind. His wolf, a part of him he usually kept tightly controlled, was restless.

“Mr. Park,” his professor’s voice cut through his thoughts.

Sunghoon blinked, snapping his gaze toward the front of the room. The professor was staring at him, waiting for an answer to a question he hadn’t heard.

For a moment, the room seemed to hold its breath, his classmates glancing between him and the professor. But then Sunghoon straightened in his seat, his expression calm as he answered, “The proposed budget allocation for next semester’s extracurricular activities needs to account for inflation trends. That’s why the margin was adjusted to five percent.”

The professor raised a brow, nodding approvingly. “Correct, Mr. Park. As expected.”

Sunghoon’s classmates exchanged looks, some impressed, others annoyed, but he ignored them. His body was here, in this classroom, answering questions and keeping up appearances, but his mind? His mind was with you.

The bell rang, snapping him out of his thoughts. He packed his things quickly, stepping out into the hallway where Jungwon was waiting for him, leaning casually against the wall.

“Took you long enough,” Jungwon teased, stepping beside him as they walked toward their next meeting.

Sunghoon didn’t answer immediately, his thoughts still tangled. Jungwon glanced at him, his brows furrowing slightly. “You good?”

“Fine,” Sunghoon muttered, his tone clipped.

They turned a corner, and Sunghoon’s steps halted for just a moment. There you were, standing a few feet away, chatting with Jungwon and Sunoo’s mates. You nodded at something one of them said, a small smile gracing your lips as you gestured excitedly with your hands.

Sunghoon’s chest tightened again, that unfamiliar feeling stirring in the pit of his stomach. His wolf bristled, the instinctive urge to step closer, to claim what was his. But he shoved it down, locking it away behind the mask of indifference he’d perfected over the years.

You glanced up, your eyes meeting his briefly. Without saying anything, you gave Jungwon a small nod, silently acknowledging him. Sunghoon caught the faint smile you sent his way before your attention returned to the conversation in front of you.

“Looks like we’re all heading to the same place,” Jungwon said lightly, his tone casual as he nudged Sunghoon forward.

Sunghoon didn’t respond, his grip tightening around his backpack strap as he forced himself to move. You were close, too close. He could hear your laugh, soft and full of life, as you spoke to Sunoo’s mate. He could smell your scent, and it made his inner Alpha agitated.

He didn’t like this.

Didn’t like how his instincts reacted to you.

Didn’t like the way his thoughts strayed toward you when he had more important things to focus on.

Didn’t like how his body seemed to recognize something his mind refused to.

Heeseung and Jay passed by, still caught up in their conversation, but Heeseung sent him a knowing glance. Not fully understanding, but suspecting something.

Sunghoon shut it all out—he had no time for love, no time for whatever this was.

Without another word, he walked past you, through the council room doors, and forced himself to bury whatever this feeling was before it could take root.

You hesitated for a moment, watching Sunghoon as he disappeared into the meeting room without sparing you another glance. It wasn’t the first time he’d brushed past you like that, but something about today felt different. The way his shoulders tensed, the way his gaze hardened the second he saw you—it was like you were a problem he didn’t have time for.

And you didn’t understand why.

Sunoo’s mate, who just so happened to be Sunghoon’s younger sister, sighed beside you, her voice low as she leaned in. “Don’t bother,” she murmured, arms crossing as she watched her brother’s retreating figure. “He’s always like that.”

But was he? Because despite her words, you had a gnawing feeling that the way Sunghoon treated you was different. Like there was something beneath his cold exterior, something you couldn’t quite understand.

You were still lost in thought when Ni-ki slid into the seat next to you. His presence was casual, but his sharp eyes missed nothing.

He nudged you lightly, voice dropping into a teasing whisper. “Why are you staring at Sunghoon like that?”

You snapped out of your daze, your eyes widening slightly. “What?”

The younger Alpha smirked, resting his chin on his hand as he observed you. “You’ve been watching him since he walked in. And don’t even try to deny it.”

Heat crept up your face as you quickly looked away. “I wasn’t—”

“Uh-huh,” Ni-ki cut in, clearly unconvinced. “Sure, (Y/N). Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

You huffed, shaking your head before turning your attention back to Jungwon as he finally started the meeting.

Jungwon leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping idly against the smooth wood of the long table before his lips curled into a knowing smirk. “Alright, before we get to the real agenda… I’m assuming everyone here knows they’re expected to be at the grand dinner our dear marketing director's family is hosting?”

Collective groans echoed through the room.

Jay was the first to voice his displeasure, rolling his eyes as he slumped against his chair. “No offense, Sunghoon, but I was trying to pretend I forgot about that.”

“Do we really have to go?” Sunoo sighed dramatically, slouching back in his seat with exaggerated defeat. “What if I suddenly develop a rare illness that prevents me from attending formal events? I think it’s highly possible. I should get it checked out.”

“You and me both,” Jay added, rolling his eyes.

Jungwon chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ll make sure our dear school nurse looks after you.” His tone was light, but the glint in his eyes made it clear—none of them were getting out of this.

You sat quietly at the far end of the table, taking in the conversation with mild amusement. The mention of the event piqued your curiosity, though you weren’t as vocal about your distaste for it as the others.

Instead, you found your gaze wandering toward Sunghoon, who, as expected, remained perfectly composed, his expression cold, eyes still skimming over his tablet as if this conversation didn’t concern him in the slightest.

Unlike the others, Sunghoon wasn’t one to complain about formal events. No, he was used to them. They were expected of him, just as everything else in his life was predetermined. And yet, despite his practiced facade, something about the way he held himself—his grip tightening around the device, his jaw tensing ever so slightly—told you that he wasn’t entirely unaffected.

Not that you would ever get the chance to ask him about it.

Because every time you so much as looked his way, his entire demeanor shifted, as if your presence alone irritated him. And it stung, just a little.

Jungwon, unaware of the silent exchange, finally clapped his hands together. “Alright, moving on. Since we’re all forced to attend that wonderful dinner, let’s get to what actually matters—the upcoming school festival.”

A shift in everyone's demeanor followed as the real meeting began. Papers rustled, files were opened, and everyone straightened up, ready to discuss proposals and assignments.

“The main goal for this meeting is to finalize activity proposals before we present them for approval. We have a rough list, but we still need to sort out logistics,” Jungwon continued. “Jake, you and your team already compiled the initial proposals, right?”

Jake nodded, pulling out a neatly organized folder. “Yeah, I went through the ones submitted last week. I’ll run through them real quick.”

As Jake started going over the list, you chimed in with some of your own notes, offering insights from the secretary committee’s perspective. “Some of these proposals overlap with past events, so we might want to rethink a few of them to keep things fresh. Also, we should factor in the budget constraints before finalizing anything.”

Jay, being the treasurer, leaned forward, tapping his pen against his notebook. “Speaking of budgets, don’t forget that we still need funding for venue rentals and logistics.”

Heeseung snorted. “Stop acting like we’re broke. We could fund the whole event if we wanted to.”

Jay smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, but just because we have the funds doesn’t mean we should start tossing money around like it’s fucking Monopoly cash.”

Sunoo, the student relations director, hummed in approval. “Okay, but let’s consider which ones would actually engage the student body. No point in budgeting for an event no one shows up to.”

Heeseung leaned back in his chair, shrugging. “That’s fair, but we do have the resources. As long as it’s reasonable, funding isn’t really the issue.”

Jay sighed, still skeptical. “Fine. Just don’t come crying to me when we go over budget because someone thought a fireworks show would be a great addition.”

The discussion flowed naturally, Ni-ki making suggestions from the public relations side. “We also need to think about how we’re promoting these events. Even the best ideas fail if no one knows about them. I can get the PR committee to start drafting marketing strategies once we finalize the shortlist.”

But amidst all of this, Sunghoon was distracted. No one would have noticed—no one except Heeseung, of course.

Because while the others were engaged in conversation, Sunghoon was stuck in a losing battle against his own thoughts. His gaze flickered to you more times than he wanted to admit, even as he forced himself to keep his attention on his tablet. He wasn’t just distracted; he was frustrated.

Why did he care? Why did it bother him when you spoke so easily with the others? You had always been there. You had always been part of these meetings, always sitting on the opposite end of the table, working just as hard as the rest of them.

So why, now of all times, was he so hyperaware of you?

Why did your voice pull him from his thoughts? Why did the scent of honey and lilac make his muscles tense?

He didn’t have time for this, he didn’t have time for love.

“Sunghoon,” Heeseung’s voice cut through his thoughts suddenly, snapping him back to reality.

Sunghoon didn’t even hesitate. “Yeah, I agree with (Y/N)’s suggestion.”

Silence.

Jay raised a brow, glancing at Heeseung before turning back to Sunghoon. “You sure about that, man?”

Sunoo looked equally amused, glancing between you and Sunghoon as he tossed the pen between his hands. “Because that was the first time you spoke since the meeting started.”

The corner of Heeseung’s lips curled into a knowing smirk. “So, you were listening, huh?”

Sunghoon clenched his jaw. Heeseung knew. He always knew.

But instead of giving them the satisfaction, Sunghoon merely straightened in his seat, exuding the same indifference as before. “Of course I was. I wouldn’t be sitting here if I wasn’t.”

Then Heeseung let out a low whistle, still smirking, only leaning back in his chair. “Right. If you say so.”

Jungwon, still trying to be professional, shook his head. “Alright, focus, people.”

You, however, weren’t paying attention to them anymore. Your gaze drifted toward a specific pureblooded Alpha—the way he sat stiffly, the way his fingers tapped against the screen with an edge of tension.

And suddenly, you weren’t just confused.

You were curious.

Because if Sunghoon truly didn’t care about you, why did he remember every single word you had said?

You replayed every moment you saw him from earlier that day—his quiet, almost reluctant responses to you, how he kept his distance but somehow always seemed to be aware of everything you said and did. His voice echoed in your head now, and it made you question everything you’d assumed about him.

Was this really indifference? Or was it something else?

The meeting droned on, but your mind couldn't stay focused. It kept drifting back to him—his posture, the sharpness of his eyes, the moles on his face that somehow made him even more attractive, the way he always seemed so calculated, like he was constantly running scenarios in his head, measuring each move.

Sunghoon wasn’t just someone who blended in with the group. No, he commanded attention, even without trying.

And yet, there he was, looking as uninterested as ever, his expression stoic as he scrolled through something on his device. But that nagging feeling—like there was something more beneath his mask—kept poking at you.

Without thinking, you leaned back in your chair, letting the tension in your body melt away for a moment, trying to get a glimpse of the real Sunghoon—not the calculated, polished version he liked to show other people.

You had to admit, you were intrigued. The pureblooded Alphas were all so predictable in their own ways, but Sunghoon was different.

Your thoughts were interrupted when Heeseung cleared his throat, looking at Jungwon with a raised eyebrow. “We’re talking about the theme for the event, right?” he asked casually, as if the meeting hadn’t slipped into a quiet lull.

Jungwon nodded, unfazed. “Yes. But we need more input from everyone. Ideas that aren’t just—”

“I have one,” you cut in, unable to resist any longer. Your voice came out clear and confident, a stark contrast to the flurry of thoughts racing through your mind. “We could go with something subtle but impactful. A theme that revolves around contrasts. Like light and dark, maybe even using elements of nature, contrasts of seasons, or contrasting textures. After all, it’s all about balance.”

You paused, feeling everyone’s gaze on you for just a moment longer than necessary. But you held it together.

The room fell silent. Sunghoon didn’t react immediately, but you could sense his attention subtly shifting in your direction. You dared to meet his eyes for a split second, but he quickly looked down at his tablet again, feigning disinterest.

But you noticed the way his lips pressed together, the slight tension in his jaw that he never showed anyone else. You wondered if he was considering your words or if he was just trying to avoid acknowledging the pull you had on him.

Finally, Sunghoon spoke up, his voice surprisingly calm. “It’s not bad,” he said, looking up from his tablet. “Contrast is a powerful tool. We could work with it.” His gaze lingered on you for a brief second before he turned his attention back to the discussion, as if the acknowledgment had been nothing more than a casual comment.

You blinked, slightly taken aback. The unexpected approval from him felt different from the usual dismissive reactions. But you didn’t have time to dwell on it. You quickly nodded, trying to maintain your composure.

“I’ll send a more detailed proposal with visuals after the meeting,” you added, pushing forward.

Sunghoon didn’t say anything more, but you caught the way his gaze flickered toward you again, his eyes narrowing just slightly. There was a brief pause, like he was weighing his next move.

The air had shifted just a little, and you couldn’t quite place why. But you were certain that there was something more to his response, even if he tried to brush it off as nonchalance.

The rustling of papers and the faint creak of chairs filled the council room as everyone packed up. The meeting had dragged on longer than expected, and most of them were ready to go home.

Jake slung his bag over his shoulder, exhaling. “Alright, let’s go. I think we all want to sleep at a reasonable hour.”

Ni-ki snorted. “Reasonable? You all literally run on caffeine and stress.”

Jake rolled his eyes, already walking toward the door. “Just hurry up.”

One by one, they filed out into the dimly lit hallways, their chatter echoing through the empty corridors. Outside, the night air was crisp, the usual warm breeze replaced by a sharper chill.

The campus at night had an almost eerie but majestic feel to it, grand architecture bathed in soft golden lights, towering columns casting long shadows across the marble pathways. The air smelled of expensive cologne and freshly trimmed gardens—the very image of wealth and privilege. It was the kind of place that asked for admiration, yet felt untouchable, like something straight out of a dream.

They walked in their usual loose formation toward the parking lot, their voices filling the space between them. Sunoo and Jay were deep in a debate about their next group dinner, Ni-ki throwing in sarcastic remarks while Heeseung poked fun at Jungwon’s overly formal meeting style.

But Sunghoon?

Sunghoon was silent.

He walked with them, hands shoved into his pockets, his usual confident stride still the same. And yet, he wasn’t really there. He wasn’t paying attention to the conversation, wasn’t throwing in his usual sarcastic remarks. He barely even reacted when Ni-ki nudged him in the ribs or when Heeseung smirked at him like he was waiting for a comeback.

Jay was the first to notice. He narrowed his eyes, slowing his steps to fall in line beside him. “What’s up with you?”

Sunghoon blinked, like he hadn’t even realized someone was talking to him. “What?”

Jay gave him a look. “You’ve been weirdly quiet. Like, more than usual. It’s kinda freaking me out.”

Sunghoon exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “I’m fine.”

But he wasn’t. And they all caught it.

Because for the briefest second, his scent changed—something bitter wafted through the air.

Jay’s eyes flickered, but he let it go. “If you say so.”

The conversation picked up again, but Sunghoon remained detached, walking alongside them but never really taking part in any of the conversations.

They reached the parking lot, and the group naturally split off toward their respective cars, saying their goodbyes.

Sunghoon walked toward his own: a sleek, black sports car, polished to perfection. It stood out even among the other luxury vehicles, a clear reminder of his status.

He pulled the door open but didn’t start it. Instead, he sat in the driver’s seat, gripping the wheel as he stared straight ahead.

The quietness of the parking lot pressed down on him, leaving nothing but the hum of distant streetlights and the faint ringing in his ears.

And then, for the first time all night, his inner Alpha spoke.

"Pathetic."

A dull throb started in his temples. He shut his eyes, jaw clenching.

"You’re running, aren’t you?"

“Shut up.” His grip on the wheel tightened, but the voice didn’t stop. It never did.

"You saw her today. Again. And what did you do?"

His chest ached. “Nothing.”

His inner Alpha scoffed. "Exactly. You ignored her. You walked past her like she was nothing."

“Because she is nothing to me.” But even as he said it, his own words felt hollow.

"Liar."

His head pulsed, frustration clawing at his skull. He couldn’t do this. He had responsibilities. Expectations. He had worked too damn hard to let something as simple as instincts get in the way.

His life was structured, orderly. He had a plan.

He had no time for love.

No time for distractions.

And yet, the way his instincts clawed at him, the way his Alpha had been restless all evening, it was suffocating.

His own body was betraying him.

He exhaled sharply, pressing his thumb and forefinger against his temple. Not now. Not ever.

With a final, sharp breath, he yanked the car door shut, sealing himself inside.

And then, without another second wasted, he started the engine and drove off into the night.

The drive home was a blur. Sunghoon barely remembered driving through the city streets, his grip on the wheel tense, jaw locked as he forced his thoughts elsewhere—anywhere but where they wanted to be.

But the moment he pulled into the long, private driveway leading to his family estate, he knew that tonight was going to be hell.

His home was as grand as expected from a family like his—towering windows, intricate stonework, and the ever-present air of power. The gates shut behind him, and for a second, he let his forehead rest against the steering wheel. Maybe if he sat here long enough, his thoughts would settle.

Your scent still clung to his senses—honey and lilac, sweet but not overpowering. It had wrapped around him in the council room, seeped into his skin, and now it refused to leave. He hated how much it soothed him, how his muscles almost wanted to relax, how it made something deep in his chest coil tighter instead of loosening.

"You’re being pathetic," his alpha sneered, voice curling in his mind like a mocking whisper. "Avoiding her doesn’t change the fact that she’s yours."

Sunghoon’s lips curled into a silent snarl as he shoved the car door open, stepping out into the crisp night air.

“She is not mine.”

His inner alpha laughed, low and knowing. "Keep telling yourself that. See how well that works."

Ignoring the voice, he strode toward the house. The moment he stepped inside, everything felt too much. The walls felt closer. The silence was suffocating. His body was tense with an agitation he couldn’t shake. His instincts were screaming at him to move, to do something.

He made his way upstairs, stripping off his blazer and tossing it carelessly onto the chair by his desk. His bathroom door was open, the mirror catching his reflection. His eyes were sharp, glowing under the dim lighting, the exhaustion on his face barely hidden beneath the tension.

He turned away, forcing himself not to linger.

A shower. Maybe that would help.

The water was scalding against his skin, yet it did nothing to ease the heat gnawing at his chest. The steam didn’t drown out your presence—your scent lingered, thick in the air. His hands clenched against the tiles, his body stiff as the wave of frustration rolled over him.

“She’s under Jake in the secretary committee,” he muttered, trying to remind himself why it couldn’t be this way. “She’s always been there, but you never cared before. Why now?”

His alpha growled, the voice inside him bitter. "Because you were blind before."

“And I’m not now?”

"No. And you hate it."

Sunghoon exhaled sharply, the water running down his back as he scrubbed it away, scrubbing away the thoughts that wouldn’t leave.

He was supposed to have control. He couldn’t let this slip. He had responsibilities, obligations—his family, the council, the expectations weighing on his shoulders. He could not afford distractions.

And yet…

The moment he collapsed onto his bed, exhaustion tugging at him, he couldn’t escape the truth. The weight of it crushed him as he stared at the ceiling, and despite all the effort to push it down, all he could think about was you.

His body fought against it. His mind screamed at him to focus, to remind himself of his purpose. But his heart, and his damn alpha—kept drawing him back to you.

He lay on his bed for what felt like hours, the shadows from the window stretching over the floor, taunting him with the silence that felt too heavy.

“Get up,” he muttered to himself, sitting up abruptly, his body moving almost involuntarily. He couldn't sleep. Couldn't let himself relax. He needed something to focus on, something that would force his mind to behave.

Sunghoon stalked over to his desk, flicking on the lamp with a snap of his fingers. The pile of paperwork in front of him was waiting; papers that he had ignored for far too long, reports that needed reviewing, contracts his father had left for him to examine.

He grabbed the nearest stack, flipping it open, pretending to care about the figures and legal jargon written on the pages. But it was useless. His eyes skimmed over the words, but none of it made sense. His mind was elsewhere. His fingers would itch for the next page, yet they weren’t moving fast enough.

He cursed under his breath, trying to force his attention back onto the papers, but his thoughts kept drifting—drifting to you.

He slammed the folder closed, frustration clawing at him, his teeth gritting as he let out a harsh breath. What the hell was wrong with him?

"You know the answer," his inner alpha purred darkly. "It’s only a matter of time before you crack."

He shook his head, trying to fight back the growing sensation of need. He couldn’t allow it. He wouldn’t allow it.

Still, the clock ticked on, its hands mocking him, each second louder than the last.

He pushed himself up from his desk, pacing the room in frustration. His mind was a battlefield, the war between his own instincts and the duties he had been born into. He couldn’t just let go.

He had responsibilities. But everything in him—his very core, his inner alpha—was screaming for him to do the one thing he refused to acknowledge: follow his instincts. Go to her. Take the step forward.

"You’re already in too deep," the voice reminded him again, this time quieter, almost tender. "She’s not just anyone. she’s yours."

Sunghoon froze, his back against the wall as the words hit him harder than he could have ever anticipated. His heart skipped a beat. The thought of you, the reality of you being his, it felt almost too much to bear.

His alpha wasn’t wrong. But the fear of breaking the walls he had carefully built around his life, the fear of losing control, it was all too overwhelming.

Finally, Sunghoon gave in and walked over to his walk-in closet, the weight of his thoughts dragging him down. He yanked open the door, revealing rows of neatly organized clothes.

His eyes scanned the options without much focus, hand moving almost automatically as he grabbed a random hoodie from the rack. Pulling it over his head, he felt the familiar weight of the fabric, but it did little to comfort him.

Maybe a walk would help. Fresh air. Something to clear his mind. Maybe then, he could shake the way his body burned for something, anything that wasn’t this.

But the instant he stepped out into the cool night, his mind betrayed him again. He walked in the direction of the garden, his eyes glued to the ground, his thoughts clouded.

And there, in the garden, where the cold air mixed with the scent of flowers, the feeling hit him again, the overwhelming, suffocating need to give in.

Sunghoon found himself staring at the moon, and then, without realizing it, his mind drifted again.

You.

And when he tried to stop it, it came anyway.

Sunghoon’s frustration increased, his fingers clenching into fists at his sides. The wind swept across the garden, rustling the leaves, and yet he felt nothing but this suffocating pull toward you, toward whatever this was. The thoughts were relentless, the pull of his instincts gnawing at him.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, cutting through the chaos of his mind. He pulled it out, his eyes narrowing at the message from Jungwon, “Need you in the council office tomorrow for another meeting. Can’t do this without the rest of you guys.”

Sunghoon scoffed, shoving the phone back into his pocket. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with any more committee business. He was already drowning in it.

Yet, despite himself, he began to walk back toward the house, his pace quickening as if his legs knew what his mind refused to accept—that he couldn’t escape this. Not for long.

The only thing on his mind now was what he couldn’t have. And the bitter, hollow feeling that came with it was growing by the minute.

The morning light barely made its way through the heavy curtains, casting faint shadows on Sunghoon’s disheveled bed. He groaned as a loud knock broke through the quietness of his room. The sound echoed in his head, still hazy with the remnants of sleep.

Reluctantly, he reached for his phone, eyes squinting against the harsh glow of the screen. 7:00 AM. The numbers were bold, a text from his sister flashed across the screen, accompanied by a string of impatient emojis.

“Sunghoon, get up. We need to head to the venue. There are last-minute details to fix before the event.”

A sigh slipped past his lips. The last thing he wanted was to be pulled into this whirlwind of preparations, but as usual, duty called. His inner alpha thrashed beneath the surface, restless as ever, but there was no time for that. He had responsibilities to uphold.

Another knock came, louder this time. “Hurry up!” His sister’s voice echoed from the hallway, laced with a teasing urgency.

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, dragging himself out of bed. His body felt heavy, his mind clouded, but he forced himself to push through. His sister’s impatience was nothing new, but today, it felt more grating than usual.

He stumbled to the door, opening it to find his sister standing there with arms crossed, an amused smile playing at the corner of her lips. “You're seriously still in bed? I swear, you’re getting worse with every event,” she said, her tone light but laced with the expectation of someone who knew he could do better.

Sunghoon rubbed his eyes, his voice groggy. “I’m coming,” he muttered, trying to shake off the sleepiness clinging to him. She rolled her eyes, brushing past him and heading down the stairs without another word.

Minutes later, he stood in front of the full-length mirror in his closet, adjusting the black Dior suit his mother insisted on for every event. The fabric felt familiar, but it didn’t comfort him the way it usually did.

His reflection stared back at him: sharp, immaculate, and detached. The face of someone who had never been able to escape the expectations placed upon him. He barely recognized himself some days.

Sunghoon’s sports car sped down the quiet road, the cool morning air rushing through the slightly open windows. His sister, as usual, was absorbed in her phone beside him, chattering on about whatever had caught her attention.

But Sunghoon’s mind was elsewhere. It kept drifting back to the image of you at the council, the way you carried yourself with ease, how your presence lingered in his thoughts like a scent he couldn’t shake.

“You’re driving like you’re half asleep,” his sister finally commented, giving him a quick glance with raised brows. “Sunghoon, are you okay? You’ve been off all week.”

He blinked, pulling himself out of his daze and offering a strained smile. “I’m fine,” he said, his voice betraying him as he tried to brush it off.

She eyed him skeptically. “You’ve barely talked to anyone at home this week. What’s going on?”

Sunghoon stiffened but didn’t respond immediately. His mind briefly flickered back to you, but he shook it off, trying to stay focused.

“Have you found your mate yet?” she asked, her voice soft but curious—not teasing. She could sense the change in him even if she didn’t fully understand why.

Sunghoon’s grip tightened on the steering wheel as he kept his gaze on the road. His mate. He hadn’t allowed himself to think about that possibility, not when everything felt so complicated.

“No,” he muttered, the word coming out sharper than he intended. “Not yet.”

His sister let out a dramatic sigh, clearly unimpressed. “You’re such a mess. Honestly, you could just relax. It’s not the end of the world if you let your guard down for a second.”

He didn’t respond. Instead, he continued driving, his mind still wrapped up in the swirling tension inside him. Why couldn’t it be anyone else? Why did it have to be you? He couldn’t seem to make sense of it.

The silence stretched on until his sister mumbled something under her breath, so quietly that he almost missed it.

“The poor girl.”

His head snapped toward her, brow furrowed in confusion. “What?”

She looked at him knowingly, the edge of her teasing never fully disappearing. “You’ve been pushing her away all week, haven’t you?” she said softly, almost pitying. “And you think she doesn’t notice? Poor girl. She probably thinks you’re confused with the way you keep looking at her.”

Sunghoon’s chest tightened at her words. He didn’t say anything, but the weight of them lingered in the air between them. His mind was too busy to process it. He had to stay focused. He couldn’t let himself get distracted by his feelings now, not when there was so much at stake.

His sister didn’t press the matter further. The drive continued in silence until they arrived at The Park Hotel, Seoul—a towering, luxurious building that his family owned. Sunghoon parked the car and shut off the engine, forcing himself to breathe.

As he stepped out of the car, his gaze landed on a sleek white sports car parked by the entrance. It was familiar, but there was something about it, something about the way it was parked so perfectly neat, that made Sunghoon pause. He glanced at it for a moment but didn’t think much of it. He shrugged it off. After all, there were so many cars in the parking lot. It was probably just another business associate’s vehicle.

“Come on,” his sister said, walking ahead toward the entrance. “Let’s go.”

They walked into the hotel, where the hustle of preparations for the event was already in full swing. His mother was already there, talking to a few staff members, discussing last-minute details. The sight of her being so composed and confident was a relief to Sunghoon. He always felt better around her.

“Mom!” he greeted, his mood lightening as he walked toward her. She smiled and greeted him in return before they moved toward the elevator.

“Top floor,” Sunghoon said, pressing the button for the penthouse suite, the family’s personal event space at the top of the building.

The elevator doors closed, and as it ascended, Sunghoon relaxed slightly, the tension in his shoulders easing. He loved this space; it always gave him a sense of control. The casual chatter in the elevator with his mom helped ground him.

“Everything ready for the event?” he asked casually, watching the numbers on the elevator screen rise.

His mom smiled, nodding. “Almost. Just some last-minute touches, but I think we’ll be fine. You know how much I love to be thorough with everything.” She glanced at him, her smile softening. “How’s everything with you, Sunghoon? You seem a bit distracted today.”

Sunghoon rubbed the back of his neck, trying to smile more naturally. “I’m just tired, I guess. Been a long week.” He quickly glanced over at his sister, who had her nose buried in her phone. “You know how it is.”

“Of course,” his mom said with a knowing look. “You’ve got a lot on your plate, don’t you? Just don’t overwork yourself. You know you can talk to me about anything.”

Sunghoon appreciated the concern, but he wasn’t ready to share what was really on his mind. “I’ll be fine, Mom. Don’t worry.”

The elevator finally stopped, and they were greeted by the usual flurry of activity as staff members hurried around, making sure every last detail was in place. His mom led the way, greeting workers and supervisors with ease.

But Sunghoon’s attention was already elsewhere. His eyes instinctively swept over the scene, and that’s when he saw you.

You were standing near one of the event coordinators, looking effortlessly at ease, your posture graceful. Sunghoon froze. His heart skipped a beat as his gaze locked onto you.

Before he could process it further, his mom continued walking ahead, greeting a woman standing nearby. Sunghoon barely registered who she was until he saw her face, and the resemblance was unmistakable.

His breath caught. The woman was elegant, poised, with the same features that were reflected in your own face. He stood frozen, unsure of how to react. His eyes flicked back to you, now standing beside the woman, his mind struggling to catch up with the sudden connection.

Then, to his surprise, his mom stepped forward and pulled you into a warm, affectionate hug. The gesture caught the pureblooded Alpha off guard, leaving him momentarily speechless.

His sister, noticing the way Sunghoon’s gaze lingered on the scene, raised an eyebrow. She smirked, almost as if she had been waiting for this moment.

“So… it’s actually (Y/N), huh?” she said casually, her tone light but laced with a knowing edge. “Guess you really can’t avoid it, huh?”

Sunghoon’s chest tightened as he took a deep breath, trying to process everything at once. What were you doing here?

Sunghoon stood frozen, his thoughts racing as his mom pulled you into a warm embrace. The sight of your face, the familiar features—everything about you felt like it was making his world tilt. He was still processing it all when his mom’s voice broke through his daze.

“Sunghoon, come here, both of you,” his mom called, waving them over.

Sunghoon’s feet moved almost automatically, his sister walking ahead of him, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she noticed the subtle tension in his posture. When they reached his mom, she was still smiling warmly at you and the woman standing next to you.

“(Y/N), I’d like you to meet my children, Sunghoon and his younger sister. And this is (Y/N)’s mother, who I’ve been coordinating with for the event,” she added, beaming. "She’s in the same university as you two, actually.”

Sunghoon’s eyes flickered between you and your mother. So, it was your family they were working with. The realization hit him harder than expected, his chest tightening.

Sunghoon’s sister raised an eyebrow and gave you a knowing smile, but it was his mom who asked the next question, her curiosity piqued. “What are you involved in at school, (Y/N)? I’m sure you’ve been keeping busy with the student council, right?”

You smiled a little, still feeling a little nervous under Sunghoon’s gaze, but his mom’s friendly demeanor helped ease the tension. “Yeah, I’m part of the student council. I’ve been helping with the planning and coordination for the event today.”

His mom nodded approvingly. “That’s wonderful! It’s always nice to see young people so dedicated and involved. I bet you and Sunghoon are both quite busy with school.”

You nodded in agreement, a small smile tugging at your lips as you looked at Sunghoon. “We see each other around. We’re both pretty busy with different things on campus.”

Sunghoon’s sister teased, “You two are pretty close, though, aren’t you?”

Sunghoon barely met your eyes, his lips curling into a tight, controlled smile. You mirrored his smile but said nothing, feeling the tension between you both grow.

“Well, it’s great to see you both getting along!” his mom said, clearly happy with the easy atmosphere. “It’s nice to have a friendly face on campus.”

Before Sunghoon could respond, his sister pulled you away with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Come on, let’s go help with the flowers,” she said, nudging you gently. “We’ll let Sunghoon handle things for a bit.”

Sunghoon watched you both walk off, his gaze lingering on your retreating figure. His thoughts swirled, but before he could gather them, his mom caught his eye, giving him a knowing look. She didn’t comment, but her silence spoke volumes.

Sunghoon took a deep breath, his mind still racing. Whatever this was, it was far from over.

The evening settled in, casting a golden glow through the large windows of the hotel. The once-chaotic venue was finally coming together—round tables adorned with pristine tablecloths, floral arrangements meticulously placed, and staff scurrying around to finalize details.

You stood near a reception table, clipboard in hand, while Sunghoon’s sister leaned in beside you, skimming through the checklist.

“So, what’s left?” she asked, propping her chin on your shoulder.

You tapped the page with your pen. “Final seating adjustments, sound check, and we still need to confirm the catering schedule.”

She let out a dramatic sigh. “God, I don’t know how you keep up with all this.”

You smirked. “Maybe because I actually enjoy it?”

She gave you a teasing nudge. “Or maybe because you’re a perfectionist, Secretary Committee Girl.”

You rolled your eyes at the nickname. “I organize things. It’s literally my job in the council.”

Before she could respond, a familiar voice cut through the air.

“You’re overcomplicating the seating chart.”

Your head snapped up, and there he was—Park Sunghoon, standing with his usual composed posture, hands tucked into his pockets, expression unreadable. His mother had been talking to a coordinator nearby, but now, she glanced between the two of you, a small, knowing smile on her lips.

You exhaled through your nose. “We’re adjusting it, not overcomplicating it.”

Sunghoon gave you a flat look. “You moved the executive table again.”

“it needed to be closer to the main stage,” you argued.

“Which messes with the aisle clearance,” he countered.

You opened your mouth to respond, but his mother stepped in smoothly. “You two can argue about seating later. For now, go check on the banquet hall setup. The decorators should be almost done.”

Sunghoon sighed but nodded, while you grabbed your clipboard and turned to his sister. “You coming?”

She waved you off. “Nah, I’m staying here. You two have fun.”

You frowned at her mischievous tone, but the Alpha next to you didn’t give you time to dwell on it. With a tight-lipped expression, he gestured for you to walk ahead.

The large hall was buzzing with activity. Staff were setting up buffet tables, arranging cutlery, and making last-minute touches to the decorations. You and Sunghoon stood near the entrance, scanning the room.

“I’ll check on the centerpiece placements,” you said, glancing at your clipboard. “You can handle the catering status.”

He crossed his arms. “Why do I have to handle catering?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Because I don’t feel like arguing with the head chef.”

Sunghoon huffed but walked off toward the catering team while you made your way toward the floral arrangements. After a few minutes, you stood near the main table.

“They’re behind schedule,” Sunghoon reported, running a hand through his hair. “Something about delayed deliveries.”

You groaned. “Of course.”

You took out your phone, scrolling through your contact list. Sunghoon watched as you expertly navigated the crisis, calling the supplier and getting an update within minutes.

When you hung up, he raised an eyebrow. “You’re really in your element with this.”

You shrugged. “I have to be. The secretary committee basically runs everything behind the scenes.”

He scoffed. “So that’s why you always look stressed on campus.”

You shot him a look. “Excuse me?”

He smirked. “I see you in the student council room all the time, buried under paperwork. I just assumed it was self-inflicted suffering or Jake really hated your guts.”

You rolled your eyes. “Unlike some people, I actually like responsibility.”

Sunghoon just hummed, amused, before looking toward the exit. “Come on, we still have to check the ballroom.”

The ballroom, meant for the main program, was dimly lit as technicians adjusted the spotlights. You and Sunghoon walked toward the stage, where a staff member was testing the mic.

“You handle sound checks?” he asked, sounding mildly impressed.

You nodded. “Part of the job.”

Sunghoon leaned against a nearby pillar, watching as you exchanged instructions with the technicians. His eyes trailed over the way you moved—so effortlessly slipping into control, giving orders with ease, adjusting the smallest details without hesitation. You were in your element, and for a brief moment, he wondered if this was what he had been avoiding all along.

When you finally wrapped up, he glanced at you, voice quieter than before. “You’re really everywhere, huh?”

“That’s kind of the point,” you said, flipping through your notes.

His gaze lingered on you for a second longer before he looked away, clearing his throat. “So, what’s next?”

You skimmed the checklist. “We need to make sure the VIP section is set up properly.”

Sunghoon groaned. “Please don’t tell me we have to argue about chairs again.”

You smirked. “That depends. Are you going to accept that I’m always right?”

He gave you an unimpressed look but followed you anyway.

The two of you walked through the elegantly arranged VIP tables, double-checking details. At one point, you crouched down to fix a misplaced name card, only to feel Sunghoon standing way too close behind you.

“You’re hovering,” you muttered.

“I’m observing,” he corrected.

You turned your head slightly, only to realize just how close he was. His scent—coffee and leather—wrapped around you, warm and grounding. You swallowed, standing up quickly and brushing imaginary dust off your skirt.

His inner alpha stirred, "Weak. You’re running again."

He ignored it.

His gaze traced the slight parting of your lips, the subtle rise and fall of your shoulders as you exhaled. He let himself linger, just for a second, in the space between restraint and surrender. And that’s when the thought crept in, unbidden.

"Is this really what you’re afraid of? Her? Or the way she makes you forget everything else?"

His jaw tightened.

Because it wasn’t just the bond. It wasn’t just attraction. It was the fear of unraveling, of slipping so deep into something he couldn’t control that he’d abandon everything else, his duties, his carefully built walls, the life that was expected of him.

His alpha hummed in amusement. "She makes you weak, but you want her anyway."

Sunghoon swallowed hard, straightening his posture. The warmth in his eyes cooled, replaced by something unreadable.

You frowned slightly at the shift.

He smirked. “Nervous?” His voice was smooth, but there was a sudden distance in it.

You scoffed. “You wish.”

His gaze flickered to your lips for the briefest second before he took a step back, shoving his hands into his pockets as if forcing the space between you.

"Coward."

“If you say so,” he hummed.

Before you could respond, a voice interrupted.

“Ah, there you two are.”

Sunghoon turned, shifting his expression into something neutral as his mother approached, clipboard in hand. You straightened up beside him, the moment from before slipping between your fingers like sand.

“I need you both to oversee the final checks while I discuss something with the event coordinators.” His mother’s tone left no room for argument. She gave Sunghoon a look, one that was equal parts expectation and knowing—before handing you the clipboard. “You know what to do.”

You nodded. “Of course, Mrs. Park.”

Sunghoon exhaled slowly through his nose, nodding along as well. It wasn’t like he could say no.

"Another thing you can't say no to, huh?" His alpha taunted.

He clenched his jaw, pushing down the irritation forming in his chest. It wasn’t at you, he knew that much. It was at himself, at the way he was still standing next to you despite everything.

You, however, had already moved on, scanning through the checklist before nudging his arm. “Come on, Park. The sooner we start, the sooner we finish.”

His eyes flicked down to where you touched him, the warmth of your skin seeping through his sleeve. His inner alpha hummed in approval, but he ignored it, following you as you walked through the venue.

As you worked, your voice was steady as you went over the details. “Floral arrangements are set, table placements are final…” You trailed off as you examined the stage setup, flipping a page on the clipboard. “Lighting checks should be done soon. Could you talk to the technicians?”

He raised a brow. “You’re delegating to me now?”

You gave him a pointed look. “I can’t do everything myself.”

Sunghoon smirked despite himself, but there was something bitter about it. You weren’t even flustered around him anymore. When did you stop getting nervous?

His alpha scoffed. "You’re upset about that? Pathetic."

Still, he didn’t argue. He stepped away, scanning the ballroom for the lighting crew before walking off.

By the time he returned, you were deep in conversation with the floral team, gesturing toward one of the centerpieces. His gaze followed your movements—how easily you took control of the situation, how effortlessly you belonged in this environment.

"She’s everywhere. Always in the middle of things, always moving forward."

He rubbed the back of his neck, a familiar tightness forming in his chest. Maybe that’s why he had avoided this for so long. Because standing here, watching you do what you did best, made him realize something.

It wasn’t just about you. It was about him.

The fear wasn’t of falling for you. It was of what that would mean, of what he’d have to let go of to have you.

“Earth to Sunghoon?”

He blinked, snapping back to reality. You were watching him, an amused expression on your face.

“Spacing out already?” you teased. “We’re not even done yet.”

He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“Nothing important,” he muttered, voice clipped.

You frowned at the sudden change in his tone but didn’t push. “Right. Well, let me know if you're ready to go. We still have things to check.”

You walked past him, your scent—honey and lilac—lingering in the air, soft yet unmistakable. His Alpha bristled, pushing at his restraint.

"She’s slipping away. Your Omega is slipping away."

Sunghoon clenched his fists. No. You were right here. He just didn’t know what to do with that.

For now, he settled for following you.

The night air was crisp, carrying a faint chill that hinted at the changing seasons. You barely noticed, too preoccupied with checking off the last few items on your clipboard as you walked through the dimly lit parking lot with Sunghoon’s sister beside you.

“God, if one more person asks me about table placements, I’m quitting this whole thing,” she groaned, rubbing her temples.

You chuckled. “You say that, but you’ll still show up tomorrow looking like you run the place.”

She shot you a tired grin. “Shut up.”

A few steps behind, Sunghoon trailed silently. He wasn’t really listening to the conversation—at least, that’s what he told himself.

But his eyes betrayed him, flickering to you every so often, catching the way your brows furrowed in concentration, the way you absentmindedly tapped your pen against the clipboard, the way your scent of honey and lilacs felt like it was wrapping around him, daring him to step closer.

"She’s right there. Yours. Slipping away."

His inner Alpha’s voice was persistent, lingering in the back of his mind like an ache he refused to acknowledge.

He exhaled sharply, pushing the thought away. This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? Distance. Control. A clear line between what he felt and what he knew he had to do.

But then you stopped beside your car, unlocking it with a quiet beep. His sister slowed beside you, turning to Sunghoon with a slight frown.

“Hoon, you good?”

Your gaze flickered toward him at the question, eyes searching, like you were trying to figure out what was wrong.

And that was the problem. You always noticed.

The Alpha tensed, his walls slamming back up. His face smoothed over, his posture shifted; cold, detached, unreadable.

“Yeah,” he said flatly.

The change was almost unnoticeable, but you caught it.

Your grip on the clipboard tightened, as if debating whether to push, whether to call him out on it. But instead, you just nodded, lips pressing into a thin line.

“Alright,” you murmured.

His sister sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes. “You’re both so dramatic.” Then she turned to you, brightening up again. “Don’t overwork yourself, okay?”

You mustered a tired smile. “I won’t.”

Sunghoon stayed silent.

And this time, you didn’t bother looking at him before sliding into your car.

The moment your door shut, his Alpha growled in protest.

"Fix it."

He clenched his jaw, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets.

“No.”

Your engine rumbled to life, headlights casting long shadows across the pavement. He should’ve looked away, should’ve just walked off—but he didn’t. He watched as you drove off, the sound of your car fading into the night.

A quiet sigh escaped him. His mother.

She didn’t say anything earlier, didn’t scold or pry. She simply looked at him; knowing, like she already had a hint of what was happening.

And for some reason, that made his chest tighten.

So he exhaled, turned on his heel, and walked away.

The Park estate was quieter than usual, save for the faint rustling of leaves outside and the occasional laughter echoing from the living room. Sunghoon leaned back against the couch, one arm draped over the backrest as he scrolled mindlessly through his phone.

The guys had gathered there a few hours before the grand dinner, since it was closer to the venue, and the suits for the evening were going to be delivered directly to the estate. It was comfortable, familiar.

“Bro, do you even listen to yourself?” Sunoo snorted, throwing a cushion at Jungwon, who barely dodged. “You keep saying you care about her, but where are you, huh? If I were your mate, I’d leave your ass.”

Jungwon groaned, rubbing his temples. “It’s not like I’m ignoring her on purpose, okay? I just—”

“Just what?” Sunoo raised an eyebrow. “Bro, you’re literally a pureblooded Alpha. Start acting like one.”

Jake snorted from his spot on the couch, shaking his head. “You talk a lot of shit for someone who barely figured out his own mating bond.”

“Hey, at least I figured it out,” Sunoo shot back. “Jungwon’s still treating his Omega like he's still courting her—he's walking on eggshells.”

Jungwon groaned, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t need this right now.” The younger Alpha huffed, slumping into the couch, ears turning a bit red.

Heeseung chuckled. “He’s right, you know. Just follow your instincts. Might help.”

Sunghoon tuned them out. His fingers tapped against his phone screen, his mind elsewhere. That was, until two familiar voices drifted in from the hallway.

“Oh yeah, follow that. Don't be like my brother—can’t relate to the whole instincts thing.”

His sister and Heeseung's mate.

Sunghoon barely registered her words, but the comment stung more than he expected. He tensed up, feeling his jaw clench involuntarily.

They didn’t even glance his way, walking past them straight to the kitchen.

For some reason, it made him feel smaller than he ever wanted to. He stayed quiet, his grip on his phone tightened, focusing on the lack of sound in the room.

Jungwon’s eyebrows lifted. “Uh… hello? You good?”

Ni-ki leaned forward, grinning. “Yeah, that was kinda weak, man. You always have something to say.”

Sunghoon didn’t respond. He couldn’t. His thoughts were spiraling too fast, his Alpha stirring like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

"They’re right. You’ve been avoiding this for too long."

His jaw clenched.

"Why? Because you’re scared? Because you think pushing her away makes you stronger? You already know the answer, don’t you?

Sunghoon snapped."

A low, warning growl left his throat, deep and sharp, cutting through the air like a blade.

His scent soured, something bitter and tense.

The room fell silent.

Sunghoon immediately regretted it.

His friends weren’t scared, he knew that much—but they were surprised. He never let his emotions slip like that, never let his control falter.

Jake raised an eyebrow. “Damn, man,” he muttered, clearly surprised. “You good?”

Sunghoon exhaled slowly, pressing his thumb against his temple.

Jungwon, still startled, hesitated before speaking. “Hey, man, relax…”

And then, Jungwon added, almost absently—

“What’s got you all messed up? It’s like you—”

Sunghoon cut him off. “I met my mate.”

The words left his mouth before he even fully registered what he was saying.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Sunoo was the first to recover. “What?”

Jungwon’s eyes widened as he processed what Sunghoon had said. “Wait—what?”

Sunghoon leaned back against the couch, rubbing a hand over his face. His heartbeat felt louder in his ears now, the weight of his own admission settling in. “I met my mate,” he repeated, this time with more certainty, but still unsure.

Jake let out a low whistle. “Well, shit,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Didn’t think I’d hear that today.”

Jay was still staring at him like he had grown a second head. “You?”

Sunghoon shot him a glare. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jay raised his hands in defense. “I mean, dude, it’s you. You’ve never even cared about that kind of stuff. I just—when? How?”

Sunghoon hesitated. He hadn’t planned on saying this out loud, let alone explaining it. The moment he said the words, it felt like he had given away the control he had spent years perfecting—it had just cracked at the edges.

Sunoo narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, and who?”

Ni-ki looked almost wary. “Wait, wait, hold up—are you sure?”

Sunghoon shot him a flat look. “You think I’d joke about this?”

“No, but you also don’t exactly seem sure,” Ni-ki pointed out.

That was fair.

Because the truth was, Sunghoon wasn’t sure, not fully. Or at least, he had spent the last few days convincing himself he wasn’t sure. Because if he admitted it, that meant things had to change.

And Sunghoon hated change.

Heeseung, who had been the quietest of them all, finally spoke up. His voice was calm. “Since when?”

Sunghoon pressed his lips together.

“Sunghoon,” Heeseung pushed, more insistent this time. “How long have you known?”

A muscle in Sunghoon’s jaw ticked. “…A while.”

Another silence stretched between them, heavier this time.

Sunoo groaned, running a hand down his face. “You knew and didn’t say anything?”

Sunghoon didn’t answer.

Jake scoffed, shaking his head. “Bro, what the hell?”

Ni-ki leaned forward, his expression sharper now. “You’re seriously fighting this?” His voice was wary, frustrated. Despite being the youngest, he thought it was stupid—this was instincts, this was nature.

The gods themselves had chosen fated mates with intention. Rejecting that was like rejecting the sky, the air, the pull of the ocean’s tide. It made no sense to him. “Why would you reject something that’s meant for you?”

Jungwon, usually the more level-headed one, actually agreed. “Ni-ki’s right,” he muttered. “You’re making this way harder than it has to be.”

Sunghoon snapped.

“You think I had a choice?” His voice came out sharper than he meant, louder. His scent flared again, dominance pouring out of him.

And that set them all off.

Because they weren’t just Alphas. They were pureblooded Alphas, born and bred into power, and when dominance was challenged, instinct demanded they answer.

Jake and Jay shot him a glare, their own scents spiking as an automatic reaction. Jungwon bared his teeth slightly, frustration and something close to disbelief flickering in his eyes. Sunoo looked like he wanted to hit him.

“Yeah, you had a choice,” Sunoo threw back. “And you blew it!”

Ni-ki’s glare sharpened. “Do you even hear yourself right now?”

Jake scoffed, shaking his head. “You think this is a fucking game? Do you know how many Alphas would kill to even find their mate?”

Sunghoon clenched his fists. “It’s not that simple.”

Jay barked out a short, humorless laugh. “No, you’re just making it complicated.”

Sunghoon had had enough.

He shot up from the couch, turned on his heel, and walked out, his footsteps heavy against the marble flooring, his scent still bitter, still unsettled. He didn’t care where he was going. He just needed to get out.

Sunoo and Heeseung exchanged glances before following after him.

The afternoon air was cooler than he expected. He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair, trying to breathe.

Sunoo was the first to break the silence. “Dude,” he muttered, “what the hell is going on with you?”

Sunghoon didn’t answer immediately. He stared out at the sunlit garden, hands in his pockets, jaw tight.

Heeseung leaned against the railing beside him. “Talk to us.” His voice was calm. “You don’t have to deal with this alone.”

Sunghoon let out a short, hollow laugh. “Feels like I do.”

Sunoo crossed his arms. “No, you’re just choosing to.”

Silence.

Sunghoon’s fingers twitched. He didn’t know how to say it, didn’t know how to make them understand.

“I…” He exhaled sharply, tilting his head back. “I don’t want this.”

Sunoo furrowed his brows. “Why?”

Sunghoon swallowed hard. “Because I don’t know how to be that person. A mate. A bond. A life that’s—” He shook his head. “I wasn’t made for that.”

heeseung sighed, rubbing his temple before stepping in. “sunghoon, listen to yourself. you’re treating this like it’s some kind of punishment.”

sunghoon let out a heavy breath, the weight in his chest pressing down harder. “it feels like one,” he admitted.

“because—” sunghoon continued, closing his eyes for a brief second before looking away. “because it means everything changes. i change.”

Sunoo scoffed, shaking his head. “And? What’s so bad about that?”

Sunghoon turned to him, frustration bubbling to the surface. “You don’t get it—”

“No, you don’t get it.” Sunoo cut him off. “You’re not losing yourself, Sunghoon. You’re finding something—someone that was always meant to be yours.”

Heeseung nodded, stepping closer. “And having an Omega to call yours? That’s a responsibility in itself, one you were always meant to take on. You’re not abandoning anything—you’re taking something just as important.”

Sunghoon’s jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling with each sharp breath. He wanted to argue, wanted to fight back—but the truth was, deep down, he knew they were right.

The thought alone terrified him.

The event was already in full swing by the time Sunghoon arrived, the grand ballroom glowing with golden chandeliers and the murmur of polite conversation.

His polished shoes clicked against the marble floors as he stepped in alongside the others, all of them dressed in perfectly tailored suits, their hair styled to absolute precision. They looked every bit like the pureblooded Alphas they were raised to be: refined, dominant, untouchable.

But none of that mattered the second he spotted you.

You were standing near the center of the room, surrounded by a group of familiar faces—his sister, Jungwon’s mate, Heeseung’s mate, and other Omegas of high standing. A tight-knit circle of Omegas that radiated grace and effortless elegance, laughing softly amongst themselves, their delicate fingers wrapped around champagne flutes.

And then there was you.

Your gown hugged your frame in all the right places before cascading down in soft waves, your hair curled to perfection, makeup flawless, lips painted a shade he couldn’t quite name but suddenly wanted to memorize.

It pissed him off.

Not because you looked good—no, that was obvious. It was the fact that you had noticed him, just as he had noticed you, but chose to act like he wasn’t even there.

He saw it. The way your shoulders tensed when he stepped into your vision, how your fingers gripped your champagne glass just a little tighter. But you didn’t acknowledge him. Didn’t even glance his way.

Like the past few days of him being distant meant nothing.

And that—that frustrated him more than anything.

A cough sounded beside him.

“Karma,” Sunoo smirked, enjoying every second of this.

Jake chuckled, shaking his head. Jungwon outright grinned. Even Heeseung—calm, composed Heeseung—gave him a knowing glance, like he had expected this from the start.

But the worst was Ni-ki.

The youngest in the group, ever observant, leaned in slightly, whispering just loud enough for them to hear.

“Damn,” Ni-ki mused, tilting his head. “That must hurt.”

Sunghoon clenched his jaw, ignoring the way the others tried to suppress their laughter.

His gaze flickered back to you.

Still not looking at him.

Sunghoon barely had a moment to collect himself before the inevitable happened.

People noticed them.

It was impossible not to.

A group of young, pureblooded Alpha heirs walking into a gathering like this, dressed to perfection, exuding confidence and power—of course, eyes turned their way.

The murmurs started almost instantly, subtle yet unmistakable. A few heads turned, quiet whispers rippling through the crowd as their names carried weight in these circles.

They barely had a chance to exchange glances before they were pulled into conversations, their group dispersing as they were greeted by family acquaintances, business partners, and distant relatives.

Sunghoon knew how this worked. He had been raised for it, trained to move through these events with effortless charm and perfect composure.

His feet carried him toward his parents, who were seated at a table near your group. His father, deep in conversation with a few business partners, barely glanced at him before greeting him with a firm pat on the shoulder. His mother, ever the composed woman, gave him a knowing look before murmuring, “You’re late.”

Sunghoon exhaled, adjusting the cuff of his suit. “Got caught up.”

His father chuckled, still half-distracted. “Ah, well. You made it.”

Before Sunghoon could take a step back, a familiar voice cut in.

“Well, if it isn’t Sunghoon.”

Sunghoon turned, and his expression barely shifted, though he immediately recognized the man.

An older Alpha, mid-forties, silver-streaked hair, broad-shouldered and sharp-eyed. Someone deeply tied to their family’s business dealings—one of his father’s closest partners.

“It’s been a while since I saw you,” the man continued, raising his glass in greeting. His tone was casual. “You’ve grown into quite the spitting image of your father.”

Sunghoon offered a small, polite nod. “It’s good to see you again.”

The older Alpha chuckled, taking a slow sip of his drink. “Good to see you too, kid. I remember when you were still a runt, running around at these events like you had better places to be.”

Sunghoon let out a short, practiced laugh. “Not much has changed.”

That earned another chuckle. Then, with an amused tilt of his head, the older Alpha leaned back slightly in his chair.

“You must have Omegas swooning left and right,” he mused, swirling his glass lazily. “With that face of yours, I bet they’re lining up.”

Sunghoon let out a soft breath, shaking his head. “I don’t have time for that.”

It was an easy response. Dismissive, effortless. A throwaway comment.

Except his eyes betrayed him.

Because, without thinking, his gaze flickered right back to you.

And you heard him. Of course, you did.

Omegas had sharper senses than most. Your hearing was leagues above everyone else’s, and Sunghoon knew it.

He knew it the moment he saw your grip on the champagne glass tighten ever so slightly. The way your shoulders straightened just a little more.

But you didn’t react, not outwardly.

Instead, you let out a small, polite laugh, face perfectly neutral. Then, in the same smooth, composed tone you always used at events like this, you excused yourself.

Sunghoon stiffened.

But it wasn’t just you who reacted.

His sister’s gaze snapped to him almost immediately, a flicker of something unmistakable in her expression: disappointment.

She said nothing, but she didn’t need to. The look alone said everything.

And she wasn’t the only one.

His mother, ever observant, barely shifted in her seat, but the sharp glint in her eyes told him she had caught on too.

Sunghoon swallowed.

He shouldn’t follow you.

He should’ve let it go.

But before he even realized it, his feet were already moving.

The hall leading to the restrooms was dimly lit, the golden glow of the chandeliers fading the further you walked. The music and chatter from the ballroom dulled behind you, muffled and distant, as if the world was deliberately pulling away, leaving you alone with your thoughts, with the weight on your chest.

Your back hit the wall beside the restroom entrance, your breathing sharp and uneven.

Your inner Omega whimpered, "Not here. Not now."

You clenched your fists at your sides, nails pressing into your palms as you fought the sting behind your eyes.

You had known. You had always known how this would end.

And yet, standing there, shoulders stiff, throat tight, your pulse hammering against your skin, you hated that it still hurt.

You sucked in a breath, blinking up at the ceiling, forcing the tears back.

You would not cry.

Not in front of him.

And yet, the moment you sensed his presence, the moment his scent curled around you; thick, intoxicating, overwhelming, your body betrayed you.

Your fingers twitched.

Your breathing faltered.

You hated yourself for giving in so easily.

“What do you want, Sunghoon?” Your voice was cold, but the slight tremble at the end, barely there, almost unnoticeable, gave you away.

He stopped a few feet away, his hands flexing at his sides.

He was staring at you, his gaze dark, conflicted, like he didn’t know why he was here either.

His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I—”

“You what?” You cut him off, your voice sharp, edged with something dangerously close to heartbreak.

He exhaled, pressing his lips into a thin line.

You almost laughed. Of course.

“Nothing to say?” You scoffed, tilting your head. “Then why are you here?”

His jaw clenched. “I don’t—” He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling harshly.

You hated the way your chest clenched at the sight.

Hated the way his tie had loosened slightly, the way a strand of hair had fallen over his forehead, the way he looked so frustratingly undone for the first time tonight.

“You push me away.” Your voice wavered, but you forced yourself to continue. “You act like I don’t exist. And now you’re here, acting like you—” You swallowed, shaking your head. “You don’t get to do this, Sunghoon.”

His lips parted slightly.

“You don’t get to act like I matter when you’ve made it very clear that I don’t.”

Something cracked in his gaze. And for the first time, he looked afraid.

“I never said that,” he muttered, his voice softer now.

“You didn’t have to.”

Silence.

A suffocating silence. Your throat burned. You couldn’t do this. You turned to leave, to push past him, to breathe—

But suddenly—

You couldn’t move, and before you could react, a strong, calloused hand wrapped around your wrist—firm, desperate.

Your breath hitched.

Sunghoon pulled you back—hard—and in the span of a heartbeat, you collided straight into his chest.

The impact knocked the air from your lungs.

His scent swallowed you whole.

You gasped sharply, your knees nearly giving out.

And then—

Warmth.

Overwhelming, all-consuming warmth, his arms were around you.

One wrapped tight around your waist, pulling you flush against him. The other cradled the back of your head, fingers weaving through your hair—steady, like he was terrified of letting go.

Your chest heaved against his, hands fisting his suit jacket so tightly your knuckles ached.

But you didn’t care. You couldn’t care.

Not when his heart was hammering against yours, not when his grip on you was desperate, not when his entire body was trembling, like he was breaking just as much as you were.

Your breath came out shaky. “Let me go.”

He didn’t. He tightened his hold.

“Sunghoon.” Your voice cracked.

His head dipped lower, his breath fanning against your temple.

“I can’t.”

Your stomach flipped violently. Tears spilled down your cheeks, hot and relentless.

“You—” You squeezed your eyes shut, your grip on his suit tightening. “You’re such a fucking coward.”

His body tensed. But he didn’t pull away. Didn’t loosen his hold. Didn’t deny it.

Instead, his fingers curled into the fabric of your dress. And for the first time—Sunghoon let his instincts win.

Your hands gripped his suit tighter as your chest heaved, a strangled sob breaking free before you could stop it. The tears were now, falling fast and hot, no longer something you could hold back.

You pressed your face into his chest, the fabric of his suit absorbing the wetness, but it did nothing to soothe the ache inside you.

Sunghoon’s grip didn’t loosen. If anything, it tightened. He pulled you in closer, as if trying to protect you from everything.

The shaking of his hands on your back was evident, and the way his chest rose and fell in uneven breaths made your heart ache for him in ways you didn’t understand.

“Don't cry, Omega, please.” His voice was barely a whisper.

You shook your head, the words stuck in your throat. It felt like all the pain you’d buried, all the frustration, the confusion, the rejection—it was spilling out at once. You were drowning in it, and you didn’t know how to stop.

But his plea only made the sobs come harder, breaking free from your throat like you had been holding them in for years.

His arms tightened around you again, as if he could physically hold your pain together, as if he could stop you from shattering completely.

“I hate you.” The words barely made it past your lips, muffled against his chest, but he heard them.

You knew he heard them.

Because his entire body stiffened for a split second before his grip on you softened, his hand sliding from your waist to your lower back, the one behind your head shifting, his fingers threading into your hair with a gentleness that almost hurt.

“I know,” he murmured, voice so quiet it was almost lost in the silence of the hallway.

Your body shook against his, another sob wracking through you, and he just held you.

Not saying anything.

Not pulling away.

Just letting you break in his arms the way you had never allowed yourself to before.

Minutes passed, or maybe seconds—it didn’t matter.

Time felt frozen between you, the weight of everything crashing down in the space between your heavy breaths. Your mascara had smudged against the fabric of his suit, staining it, but he didn’t seem to care. He just kept holding you, his scent wrapping around you, keeping you from completely falling apart.

And then, finally—finally—you found your voice.

“Why?"

A single word. Quiet. Shaky. But sharp enough to cut through the silence.

Sunghoon stilled.

“Why did you do it?" Your voice cracked, but you pushed forward, your hands gripping his suit even tighter. “Why did you act like I didn’t exist? Like I was nothing to you? Why did you pretend you didn’t care when you—when you—" Another sob clawed its way out of your throat, your fingers trembling where they clung to him. “When you do this? When you hold me like this, like you actually—"

Your voice faltered, and Sunghoon inhaled sharply. His grip on you loosened, just enough for him to pull back slightly, just enough for him to see your face. His fingers, still shaking, brushed against your cheek, tracing over the tear-stained skin, his thumb wiping away the wetness that refused to stop falling.

His hands paused for a second.

And then—so, so softly—he spoke.

“I was scared.”

Your breath hitched.

“Scared?" you muttered, barely above a whisper.

He nodded, swallowing hard, his jaw clenching like he was fighting something inside himself. His fingers brushed against your cheek again, hesitating, before cupping your face fully, his touch impossibly gentle.

“I didn’t know how to handle it," he admitted, voice soft, filled with something unrecognizable. “I didn’t know how to handle you."

Your brows furrowed, your heart pounding painfully against your ribs.

“Sunghoon—"

“Everything in my life has always been about responsibility," he cut in, his grip on your face tightening slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to make sure you were listening. “I was raised to be strong, to take over, to lead—to never let anything distract me from what I was meant to do."

His thumb traced the curve of your cheekbone, and his gaze softened—just barely.

“And then there was you.”

The words came out barely above a whisper, but they sent a shiver down your spine.

Sunghoon let out a shaky breath, his forehead nearly pressing against yours. “You were never supposed to be a part of that plan.”

Pain flared in your chest, sharp and unrelenting.

“So what?" you whispered, voice trembling. “You thought ignoring me would make it easier?"

His eyes squeezed shut, his expression twisting into something almost pained. “I thought if I pretended you didn’t exist, it wouldn’t hurt as much.”

A bitter laugh left your lips. “And did it?"

Sunghoon let out a slow breath, his hands stilling against your skin. His silence was the only answer you needed.

He was breaking, right in front of you.

And for the first time, you saw it. The fear in his eyes. The weight on his shoulders. The guilt, the regret, the want.

“You absolute coward," you whispered, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks. “You let your fear ruin everything. You let it destroy me."

Sunghoon inhaled sharply, his fingers pressing against your skin like he was afraid you would slip away.

“I know," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

And then, as if he couldn’t help himself, his hands moved again, thumbs tracing over your cheeks, smudging the mascara-stained tears without a care that his fingers were getting stained too.

He was looking at you now. Really looking at you.

Even with tear-streaked cheeks, even with mascara smudged against your skin, he thought you were beautiful.

You always had been, and maybe that had been the scariest part of all.

He exhaled shakily, his forehead finally pressing against yours.

“I was so focused on all the responsibilities I had," he whispered, eyes fluttering shut, “that I forgot the most important one was right in front of me."

You. It had always been you.

And for the first time in forever, he stopped fighting it.

His hands trembled as he pulled you close again, wrapping you in his warmth, as if trying to make up for every second he had spent pretending you didn’t exist.

His heartbeat that was once steady, always controlled, was frantic against your cheek, like his body itself was betraying him, exposing everything he had kept hidden for so long.

“I’m sorry," he murmured against your hair, his voice soft, stripped bare of all the indifference he had once worn so easily.

Again.

“I’m so, so sorry.”

And again.

“I’m sorry."

Each word landed like a plea, an ache.

His hands clutched at the fabric of your dress, fingers curling against your back as he buried his face into your shoulder. His breaths were uneven, his hold desperate like he was afraid that if he let go, you’d slip through his fingers for good.

You squeezed your eyes shut, the feeling of his regret pressing against your chest like a force you weren’t sure you could withstand.

“I really hate you," you whispered, voice unsteady, and you felt the sharp inhale he took against your skin.

But you didn’t move away. Neither did he.

“I know," he murmured. He didn’t argue. Didn’t try to make excuses. He just held you.

You swallowed hard, fingers gripping the lapels of his suit. “I understand you more than you think."

A breath passed between you, thick with everything unsaid.

Slowly, hesitantly, he pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands moving from your back to cup your face. His thumbs brushed over your cheeks, wiping away the tear-streaked trails, smearing the black mascara that had run down your skin more than before.

His hands were shaking.

His fingers, stained with the remnants of your pain, trembled as they held you.

But he didn’t stop.

“You do?" His voice was so quiet, so uncertain, it almost broke you all over again.

You nodded. Because you did. You understood.

You had always known Sunghoon was never just the eldest son of his family, never just the heir, never just the perfect pureblooded Alpha everyone expected him to be. He carried burdens he never spoke of, expectations that weighed him down like chains.

And you understood now, you understood that loving you, wanting you, was the one thing he had never been taught how to handle.

Sunghoon exhaled sharply, his forehead nearly knocking against yours as he leaned closer, the warmth of his breath fanning across your lips.

“Can I kiss you?”

The words sent a violent shudder down your spine. Your breath caught, your heart twisting painfully in your chest.

Because this moment, this hesitation, this vulnerability in his voice—was not the Sunghoon everyone else knew.

This was the boy who had spent so long running. This was the boy who had finally stopped.

“It doesn’t mean you’re forgiven,” you murmured, even as your fingers curled against his chest.

For the first time that night, Sunghoon laughed. Soft. Shaky. Breathless. But real.

“I know,” he whispered, and then, slowly, finally, he closed the distance.

His lips met yours, and the world stopped spinning.

The first press of his lips was soft, like he was still afraid, still unsure if he deserved this, deserved you.

But then you exhaled against his mouth, a shaky breath that tasted like surrender, and something inside him snapped. The hesitation was gone.

Sunghoon’s hands, still cupping your face, tilted your head just enough for him to deepen the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that bordered on desperation. His body caged you in, pressing you against the cool wall behind you, but all you could feel was him—his warmth, his scent, his everything—surrounding you, consuming you.

His grip tightened. One hand slid down, fingers grazing your jaw, your throat, before curling around the small of your back and pulling you in.

Closer. Not close enough.

A small gasp escaped you, and Sunghoon swallowed it, exhaling a sharp breath against your mouth before chasing your lips again. His movements were rougher now, more frantic, like he was trying to pour every unspoken word, every regret, every missed moment into the kiss.

Like he was trying to prove something. That he was sorry. That he wanted you. That he needed you.

His other hand tangled in your hair, tilting your face up further, deepening the kiss until you felt dizzy, breathless—like you were floating, like you were falling.

And god, maybe you were. Maybe you had been all this time.

Your fingers fisted his suit, clinging to him. His lips, now hot and insistent, barely gave you a second to breathe—like he was terrified that if he pulled away, even for a moment, you’d disappear.

But you weren’t going anywhere.

You melted into him, letting yourself get lost in the moment, in the way his body trembled against yours, in the quiet, choked noise he made when your fingers finally, finally slid up to his hair.

It was intoxicating—the way he kissed you—like he was trying to make up for every second he had wasted, every touch he had denied himself, every moment he had spent pretending he didn’t want this.

Didn’t want you.

Your lungs burned, your heart pounded, and yet neither of you pulled away, unwilling to break whatever fragile, breathless thing had formed between you.

Sunghoon made a strangled noise against your lips before reluctantly—so reluctantly—he tore himself away just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath ragged, his lips red and swollen.

His eyes, dark and dazed, fluttered open to meet yours.

And then, barely above a whisper, voice wrecked, he murmured,

“Stay.”

A single word, but it held everything. A plea. A confession. A promise wrapped in desperation.

Your fingers tightened in his suit. “I’m not going anywhere, Sunghoon.” Your voice was steady, but thick with emotion. “Even when you push me away. Even when you try to pretend I don’t exist.”

His hands, still cupping your face, trembled. “Never again.” It came out like a vow. Like a prayer.

His thumbs brushed over your damp cheeks, smearing what remained of your ruined mascara. His grip on you didn’t loosen—if anything, he pressed his forehead against yours, inhaling deeply, as if he was making sure you were real.

The silence stretched between you, heavy, but not suffocating. Not anymore. Then, suddenly, he straightens—“We need to fix you up.”

You blinked. “What?”

Sunghoon pulled back slightly, scanning your face, your tear-streaked cheeks, the smudges of black under your eyes. Then, without another word, his fingers curled around your wrist, tugging you toward the restrooms.

“The female restroom is that way,” you pointed out, confused.

“I know.”

Your steps faltered. “You’re not allowed in there.”

Sunghoon scoffed, barely sparing you a glance. “As if I’m letting you out of my sight again.”

Your heart flipped.

Before you could protest, he pushed open the door, dragging you inside with him. The moment it clicked shut, he turned to you. “Up.”

You blinked. “What?”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes before gripping your waist and lifting you effortlessly, placing you onto the cool marble counter like you weighed nothing.

You gasped. “Sunghoon—”

But he was already turning to the faucet, pulling a Dior handkerchief from his pocket. You watched, breath caught in your throat, as he ran it under the water, fingers tightening around the fine cloth.

And then, with the utmost care, he turned back to you.

Your knees brushed as he stepped between your legs, his touch impossibly gentle as he cupped your face, tilting it slightly. The wet fabric pressed against your cheek, cool against your overheated skin, and Sunghoon—god, Sunghoon—wiped at the tear stains, the smudged makeup, his fingers brushing over your skin like he was handling something fragile.

Something precious.

You couldn’t stop staring.

The way his brows furrowed in concentration. The way his jaw clenched whenever he came across a particularly stubborn stain. The way his lips pressed together—like he was trying to hold back words he wasn’t ready to say.

The way he touched you. Like you were his. Like you had always been his.

Your heart pounded against your ribs.

And when he finally, finally met your gaze again, his own eyes filled with something unreadable—something raw—you realized, with stunning clarity, that you had never really stood a chance against Park Sunghoon.

Not then. Not now. Not ever.

A shaky exhale left your lips.

He was still staring at you, drinking in every detail, like he was memorizing the way you looked, the way your lashes trembled, the way your lips parted as if you had something to say but didn’t know how.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” His voice was quieter than usual, but the tease was still there, laced with something softer.

You blinked, startled, feeling heat creep up your cheeks. “What?”

His lips curled slightly, but there was something about his smirk—something less sharp, less guarded. Something that made your pulse stutter. “You were staring.”

Your stomach twisted. Of course, he would notice. Your first instinct was to scoff, to roll your eyes, to dismiss it like you always did—but before you could, you felt it. The shift.

Your scent spiked—not in distress, not in discomfort, but in something else. Something sweeter.

The scent of honey and lilacs curled around him, delicate yet intoxicating, a confession wrapped in something neither of you had the words to say.

Sunghoon inhaled. Slowly. Deliberately.

His lashes fluttered for the briefest second, his fingers tightening just slightly around yours, before his smirk faded entirely.

And then, wordlessly, he leaned in.

He didn’t hesitate. Didn’t second-guess.

His lips found your forehead, pressing into your skin with the kind of tenderness that made your breath catch in your throat.

And he stayed there. Lingering. Savoring.

His breath was warm, brushing against your temple, the tip of his nose barely grazing your hairline.

You didn’t move. Couldn’t.

His thumb brushed over your cheek, the corner of his lips twitching slightly. “Come on,” he murmured, voice still hoarse.

You barely had time to process it before he moved, guiding you off the counter with his hands firm at your waist, catching you when your balance faltered.

But he didn’t step away. Didn’t loosen his grip.

Instead, his fingers threaded through yours, locking them in place as if letting go was never an option. You blinked up at him, breath uneven.

“You ready?” His voice was quieter now, softer in a way that made your breath hitch.

You swallowed, throat tight. Then slowly, you nodded. And just like that, he pulled you with him. Hand in hand.

The warmth of his palm was steady against yours, fingers locked. It wasn’t just an absentminded touch, wasn’t something he would let go of the second someone looked too long.

No, this was different. This was him choosing you. Claiming you as his mate. And the second you stepped out, the change in the atmosphere was immediate.

Silence. Then whispers. A sea of murmurs spread through the ballroom like wildfire, voices hushed yet urgent, their curiosity thick enough to suffocate.

Heads turned, eyes widened, people stared.

Alphas. Betas. Omegas.

They looked, and looked, and looked. Their shock crackled through the air like static electricity, palpable in every held breath, every barely concealed gasp, every sharp glance exchanged between one another.

You could feel their questions hanging in the air, unspoken yet deafening. Was this real? When did this happen? How did this happen?

Their gazes burned into your skin—some filled with intrigue, others laced with disbelief, and a few even brimming with something close to envy.

Because this wasn’t just anyone walking out of a room hand in hand with Park Sunghoon. This was you. And Sunghoon? He didn’t even blink.

He didn’t falter under the weight of their stares, didn’t acknowledge the whispers that carried his name in hushed, scandalized tones.

No, he just walked.

Back straight, shoulders squared, head held high. As if this had been the plan all along. As if this was exactly where he was supposed to be. And with every step forward, the hushed murmurs only grew.

Some Alphas scoffed—exchanging skeptical glances—as if trying to convince themselves they weren’t impressed. Some Omegas straightened, eyes wide with a mix of admiration and disbelief. Others, Betas included, simply watched, unable to look away, their expressions unreadable.

But none of them mattered. Not to you. Not to him.

Sunghoon’s grip on you remained firm, and even as the weight of the room threatened to crush you—even as the world outside of this moment blurred into nothing but an afterthought—one thing became blindingly clear.

You weren’t walking behind him. You weren’t trailing after him, waiting for him to decide when to let go.

No, you were right there, beside him. Right where he wanted you to be. And for the first time in a long, long time, you weren’t afraid to be seen.

Sunghoon shot a smirk over his shoulder before tugging you even closer, his grip on your waist effortlessly firm. Your hands barely had time to react before his fingers slipped from yours—only to be replaced by the steady warmth of his palm pressing against the curve of your hip.

The moment you reached their designated table, all conversation died. The six boys stared, mouths slightly open, like they had collectively short-circuited.

“What the fuck?”

The words came from Sunoo, cutting through the silence. He blinked once. Twice. Then leaned back in his chair, hand over his chest like he had just witnessed a crime.

For a second, nobody spoke. Then, slowly, as if processing what he had just seen, Sunoo exhaled and shook his head in mock devastation.

“I feel like a proud dad,” he said, voice thick with fake emotion. “My boy finally grew a pair.”

Jake choked on his drink. Jay slapped the table. Ni-ki let out an actual wheeze, gripping his stomach like he physically couldn’t handle it.

Meanwhile, Sunghoon just sighed, clearly regretting every life choice that had led to this moment.

“Shut up,” he muttered, shoving Sunoo’s chair with his foot.

“Oh no, no, no,” Sunoo replied, shaking his head. “You don’t get to shut me up after making us sit through weeks of your bullshit. You brooded for so long.”

“You were insufferable,” Heeseung chimed in, still recovering from his initial shock.

“Actually unbearable,” Jake added.

Ni-ki snickered, nudging Jungwon. “Tell me I’m lying.”

Jungwon exhaled through his nose and pinched the bridge of it, like he was physically restraining himself from joining in. Instead, he turned to you.

“I respect you so much,” he said seriously, nodding. “For putting up with this.”

You smiled awkwardly at first, not really sure what to say. But then you caught the way they all looked at you—not like a stranger, not even like someone new. No, they knew you. Maybe not personally, but definitely through him.

Sunghoon had been avoiding his feelings, but he hadn't been quiet about them, either.

“I wouldn’t say patient,” you admitted, finally finding your words. “I just… didn’t want to force anything.”

Jay clicked his tongue, shooting Sunghoon a look. “You’re lucky she even gave you that chance, man.”

Jake leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “You do realize you can’t run forever, right?”

Sunghoon groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I wasn’t running.”

“Bro, you practically had track shoes on,” Ni-ki deadpanned.

Heeseung smirked. “But at least you were smart enough to stop and follow.”

Just as Sunghoon was about to retort, a flurry of movement caught everyone’s attention.

Across the room, Sunghoon’s sister, along with Heeseung’s mate and Jungwon’s mate, almost ran over to you, practically shoving through the crowd. Sunghoon barely had time to react before his sister skidded to a stop in front of the table, eyes blown wide.

“When did this happen?!” she demanded, breathless.

You blinked. “Uh… a few minutes ago?”

A sharp gasp.

“Oh my god,” Heeseung’s mate clutched his arm, her face pale as if she might actually pass out.

Heeseung sighed and started fanning her with his hand. “Breathe, babe. Breathe. You knew this would happen eventually.”

“Did I? Did I really?” she shot back, eyes still locked on you and Sunghoon like she was watching the finale of a long-running drama.

Jungwon’s mate wasn’t any better. She was bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet, excitement thrumming through her whole body. Jungwon, ever the responsible one, subtly reached over and stole her champagne glass before she could drop it.

“This is insane,” she whispered, eyes wide. “Like, historical. I need a moment.”

But while that mess was happening, Sunghoon’s sister was not celebrating the way the others were. No, she was glaring directly at Sunghoon, hands on her hips, looking like she was about to throw hands.

“You—” she started, voice rising.

Before she could even think about launching herself at her brother, Sunoo—who, unfortunately for Sunghoon, also happened to be her mate—stood up and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her back.

“Alright, alright, let’s not start a scene, love,” he said smoothly, voice light but firm.

She squirmed against his hold. “I just want to talk to him—”

“Liar,” Sunoo deadpanned.

“Park Sunghoon, you forced the poor omega to accept you as your mate, didn’t you?” she accused, jabbing a finger in his direction.

Sunghoon blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah! You probably made (Y/N) feel like she had to accept you just because you’re all high and mighty—”

Sunoo sighed and pulled her back against his chest, locking both arms around her now. “Hoon, just let her get it out of her system. She’s been waiting for this day for too long.”

You stifled a laugh, shaking your head. “I actually said yes willingly, if that helps.”

Sunghoon’s sister froze. “You did? Like… willingly-willingly?”

“Willingly-willingly,” you confirmed, amused.

She blinked. Then sighed dramatically, leaning into Sunoo’s hold. “Well… okay. But if he screws this up, I will come for him.”

“Noted,” Sunghoon muttered.

Sunoo patted her head like she was an over-excited puppy. “There, there. You’ll survive this.”

Sunoo shot Sunghoon a smirk over her shoulder. “But man, you’re never living this down.”

Sunghoon groaned. “I hate all of you.”

Jay grinned, raising his glass. “Love you too, man.”

Sunghoon let out another sigh, but despite his grumbling, his hold on you was steady as he guided you toward an empty seat.

With ease, he pulled the chair out for you and waited until you sat down before moving to adjust the trail of your gown, making sure it was neatly tucked away so no one—especially him—would step on it.

The entire table had fallen eerily quiet.

It wasn’t an awkward silence. It was the kind of silence that felt like everyone was holding their breath, watching something unfold before them in real time, something they never thought they’d actually witness.

Even as Sunghoon straightened up, his focus remained on you. His eyes scanned your face with the same attention he always gave to important things, searching for anything he might’ve missed.

Apparently, he had missed something.

Without a word, he reached out, the pad of his thumb brushing against the edge of your eye, carefully swiping away the faintest smudge of mascara that had escaped his first attempt.

Your breath hitched.

But the Alpha wasn’t done.

Satisfied with his work, his fingers barely hesitated before they moved to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, letting his knuckles graze your cheek ever so slightly. The touch was brief, but it was enough to send a wave of heat rushing to your face.

You swallowed, pulse slightly unsteady, but managed to send him a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

Sunghoon hummed in acknowledgment, seemingly unaffected by the entire exchange as he finally settled into his own seat.

He exhaled, relaxed for the first time that night, before slinging an arm around the back of your chair—or maybe it was your waist, you weren’t even sure anymore. His fingers brushed against your side absentmindedly, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And yet, the silence remained.

It was as if the group wanted to soak it in, to relish what they had just witnessed before fully reacting.

“I know they’re fated mates and all that,” Ni-ki mumbled, voice tinged with disbelief. “But this is shocking.”

“Right?” Jay breathed out.

“I never thought I’d live to see Sunghoon be so…” Jake trailed off, gesturing vaguely in Sunghoon’s direction.

“Domestic?” Heeseung guessed.

“Whipped,” Sunoo corrected.

Sunghoon let out a long, suffering sigh, tilting his head back against his chair. “Can you all just shut up?”

“Fuck no,” Sunoo said, smirking. “We’re never shutting up about this.”

Jake lifted his glass in mock toast. “To Sunghoon, for finally pulling his head out of his ass.”

Ni-ki followed suit, raising his drink with a grin. “To (Y/N) for somehow handling his brooding for weeks and still willingly agreeing to be his mate.”

Sunghoon groaned, muttering curses under his breath, but his arm around you didn't move.

As the evening stretched on, your table of eleven had finally started to settle. The once chaotic energy mellowed into something softer—comfortable, easy.

Some of the boys were a little tipsy, their words slurring as they tried to argue over something completely irrelevant. Others remained to themselves, quietly nursing their drinks, letting the night wind down at its own pace.

But Sunghoon? Sunghoon was right beside you.

His arm had never left your waist, fingers idly tracing patterns against the fabric of your gown as if he needed the reminder that this was real. His other hand was laced with yours, his grip firm.

He held you like he wasn’t planning to let go anytime soon. And the scent—his scent, coffee and leather tinged with a lingering warmth—wrapped around you, mixing with your own like they belonged together.

You let yourself relax, melting into his hold as the voices around you became distant background noise. Sunghoon exhaled softly, shifting just a bit so he could rest his chin against the side of your head. It wasn’t something anyone else would really notice, but you did. You noticed the way his thumb brushed against your knuckles, the way his heartbeat was steady and slow against your back.

The rest of the table was lost in their own little worlds, some caught in their own quiet moments with their mates, others too caught up in conversation to pay attention.

Heeseung sat comfortably with his mate curled up against him, her head resting against his shoulder as he absentmindedly played with her fingers, their hands intertwined.

Jungwon was just as affectionate, his mate tucked against his side as he nursed a drink in his free hand. Unlike Heeseung, whose touches were slow and casual, Jungwon was openly doting, reaching up every so often to tuck a stray hair behind her ear or brush a kiss against her temple.

Sunoo, of course, was a little more dramatic with his affection. His mate—Sunghoon’s sister—had been sulking in his arms for the past several hours, still processing the events of the night. He cradled her easily, stroking a soothing hand over her hair as she grumbled into his chest.

“I just wasn’t prepared, okay?” she whined, her voice muffled. “This all happened so fast.”

Sunoo hummed, ever patient.

“You don’t understand.”

“I do, though.”

“No, you don’t.”

Sunoo rolled his eyes, pressing a kiss against the top of her head. “Fine, you win. I don’t.”

Meanwhile, Ni-ki was watching everything unfold like it was his own personal drama series. His eyes darted between all the couples, mouth slightly open in exaggerated disbelief. “Damn couples,” he muttered, half to himself, half to Jake, who only chuckled.

Sunghoon straightened, rolling his eyes. “Can I have a moment?”

“No,” Sunoo deadpanned, still holding Sunghoon’s sister against his chest. “You wasted weeks brooding. This is our moment too.”

Jake let out a loud laugh. “Yeah, man, we had to sit through so much.”

“I still have secondhand trauma,” Heeseung added.

Jungwon stole the champagne glass from his mate’s hand as he nodded in agreement.

Meanwhile, you just buried your face in your free hand, overwhelmed but undeniably warm inside. But before you could even fully process it, you felt his eyes on you, watching the way you tried to hide your flustered expression.

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest, and before you could react, he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping just for you. “You better get used to this,” he murmured, “because you’re gonna hear a lot more of this for a very long time.”

A very long time.

Forever felt like such a long time, but maybe it was worth it when you finally had your Alpha within arm’s reach.

taglist: @hoonbrry @hime98 @chae-darling @moonchus @peatchiedii @creamkwan @nyfwyeonjun @whoe-dis @woonie-muffin @caelumsjy @90sni-ki @leiomorea @junjungsunwoo @in-somnias-world @notcamii @yizhoutv @lovesickth @elairah @graythecoffeebean @skyearby @ikeumina @blckorchidd @littlebambi-isdee @immelissaaa @jakesfurry @dreamy-carat @cristy-101 @m1kkso @h4niyahcar @firstclassjaylee @skyearby @hello0i

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jaewritesfic · 11 months ago

Text

Melon!AU Part 3

The creature's surprise surprises everyone else.

“It understands English?” Dick asks with a thoughtful tone lacing his voice.

“Or recognizes the motion of the wave as something benign,” Damian proposes, tense as a live wire as he keeps eagle eyes on Cass below.

Cass raises her hands, and though she does so slowly no amount of surprise keeps the creature from restarting that odd, piercing warning sound.

“Don't be afraid,” she says slowly and clearly, her hands moving to sign the words as she speaks. “I'm a friend.”

Despite there being no iris or pupil to be found in those glowing eyes, the way they dart back and forth between her hands and her mask is clear to see.

It doesn't stop growling, but it does shift uneasily.

Cass's hands move to sign without speaking.

Do you understand me?

Nothing, save for the flicking of bottomless eyes.

“Do you understand me?”

The creature twitches, like being asked such a thing is a surprise. It takes a long moment - as if the question must be some kind of trap - before its head jerks in a jittery, hesitant nod.

More than one person's breath catches audibly over comms.

The set of Cass's shoulders softens in a way that telegraphs a smile, one that can't be seen past her mask.

“Nice to meet you,” she says with her voice.

Knows English but not sign, she says with her hands.

Smart girl. With that knowledge she can sign to the Bats without the creature realizing her hands are saying anything different than her mouth.

As soon as nice to meet you spills into the open air, the creature stops growling. For something with such an inhuman, blank face it telegraphs shock and confusion loudly.

Actually, it…it's almost like Bruce can feel those things himself, like something brushing against the base of his brain. It's disturbing and fascinating all at once.

Perhaps the feelings of dread and disturbance being near it causes is more than just fear of the unknown.

If it can project its own feelings, can it also sense theirs? Bruce isn't sure how he feels about that idea.

“Are you hurt?”

Definitely guarding chest. Bleeding.

“Bleeding?” Tim asks.

“Chest hurts?”

Bleeding green.

“It's bleeding the Lazarus water?” Tim hisses.

“I'm sorry,” Jason's voice cuts in on comms. “Your creature is bleeding what now?”

“Unconfirmed, but the color is similar,” Bruce says.

Jason is on standby, gracious enough to be patrolling a little further than his usual to cover the gaps while they deal with whatever this is.

Gracious is actually a stretch considering the choice words he'd had about the request when asked. Still, the protests had been more routine than truly venomous.

Bruce suspects he's mostly displeased with not being on site if his siblings need him in the face of a total unknown.

“Do you need help?” Cass's voice rings out softly again.

Doesn't want to admit injury.

“A doctor?”

There are flinches all around as that finally gathers a marked reaction, and a negative one. The sound is like nails on a chalkboard, like a million light bulb filaments breaking and fizzling out. The cadence is odd, almost like the creature is trying to speak.

“No doctor! Okay, no doctor. It's okay.”

Afraid. Terrified.

The sound stutters out again, that odd feeling against the base of Bruce's skull and the wide eyes of the creature projecting confusion and disbelief over the easy acquiescence.

This is not an entity that expects to have its desires or fears cared about. Bruce has a bad feeling it's an expectation borne from experience.

Once again, he thinks with a sick feeling about the fact that he hadn't stopped to consider the creature might be reasoned with until Cass stepped in.

“Can I come closer?”

The creature whines as if it's a frightened stray, not a shadowy nightmare. Its claws click against the pavement in a manner that feels distinctly nervous.

“Please? I won't hurt you.”

Tired. Can't go for much longer and knows it.

They all watch closely as the creature's eyes flicker up and towards the line of police cruisers and officers at the very end of the alley, then back to Cass.

Its claws keep clicking.

The pool of green below it might be bigger, or it might just be the new knowledge that the substance is like blood messing with Bruce's nerves.

“I'm coming over. Slow. I won't hurt you.”

Weighing their options. Either me or cops. Knows that too.

True to her word, Cass moves slowly.

The creature's tail lashes and it grumbles its unrest, but it doesn't snarl like before and it doesn't lash out even when she's certainly close enough for those long spindly arms to reach.

Cass sinks to her knees just feet from it, posture intentionally open. Carefully, she offers another wave and a pleased, “Hello. See? All okay.”

Bruce's heart seizes. For just a moment, the wide glowing eyes angled to look up at Cass read as painfully young. Like a frightened child.

“You need help,” Cass almost whispers, hands laying on her thighs in plain sight. “No doctors, I know. But maybe a safe place? Come with me?”

Surely the comms have never been so silent as they are while Cass turns her hands over and extends them, like she's inviting the creature to place its own in her palms.

“Keep you safe. I promise.”

For a long few moments, the creature is so silent and still it may well have frozen in time.

Then there's a mourning keen that nearly buckles Bruce at the knees and the creature is moving.

Instead of taking her hands, it drags itself forward and grabs at her to a chorus of panicked shouts on the comms. So quickly nobody has time to react, it's dragged itself up to cling to her shoulders and bury its face in her neck.

The shadowy frame trembles when she holds it in return.

Masterpost

#melon!au #cassandra cain #batfam #creepy danny phantom #eldritch danny #yeah dannys fucked up #gonna be some fandom typical injuries ngl

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goopysoup · 3 months ago

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.. are they a munch ..

nsfw eating out headcanons lol

if you don’t think they’re all munches, kindly, you’re WRONG <3

this took me days and I’m not satisfied with it sigh

enjoy<3

featuring: xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus, caleb

[fem!mc + NSFW minors DNI or Santa won’t come to ur house this christmas]

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xavier

Xav definitely takes his time with you.

He’s slow and teasing the entire time, first pressing teasing kisses to your thighs, his lips brushing lazily over your skin before nibbling gently

His hands wander, sliding from your ankles to your thighs as he lowers himself towards you, once again slow, his touch as light as a feather

This man worships you before he’d let himself have a taste, his entire focus on pleasing you

Once he has you squirming under him, practically begging for him to just dive in, will he let himself absolutely devour you

He tries to be gentle, he tries so hard to take his time but once he gets a taste he can’t control himself and lets loose, eating you out like a man starved, which he was, he waited for this for centuries after all.

He would use his fingers too, his ultimate goal is to get you satisfied rather than himself, and would do so as many times as he could.

And by every god out there does he look absolutely gorgeous as he works you like that.

He’d definitely be humming and making quiet noises as he eats you out, you just taste so good he can’t help himself..

He enjoys having you ride his face, even if you’re shy about it at first especially if you tell him you don’t want to suffocate him, he would die happy.

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zayne

zayne knows his way around your body by the first time he’d eat you out, perhaps it wasn’t his favorite thing, he’d prefer to be on the receiving end, but he could never deny you.

This man is grasping at every part of you, all your sensitive areas he’s aware of, all while looking you in the eyes

“Eyes on me, darling.”

He knew you tasted good, he’d tasted you before when he’d work you with his fingers, but he’d never tasted you like this.

His tongue has a kind of its own, lapping up every bit he could, easily growing addicted to eating you out

He loves the sounds you make, knowing he’s the one making them.

There’s a few occasions where he gets so lost in your cunt that he accidentally uses his evol, it’s never to the point where it hurts you but

Temperature play, you know;)

The first time it happened he was genuinely so terrified he’d hurt you, but once you reassured him he quickly went back to his feast.

He would eat you out all day if he could, and theres been many times he’d come home from work, prop you on the kitchen counter, the sofa, even the damn floor and just take his frustrations out on your cunt

Who’s complaining? Not you.

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rafayel

raf definitely wouldn’t eat you out very often, usually if he’s jealous or in the mood to, he prefers to receive more than give imo

In the scenario of him being jealous, I feel like he might be a little rough, though not enough to hurt you of course. He just wants to remind you that you’re his, that he’s yours.

He would be whiny about it if you ask him to eat you out, but he wouldn’t refuse by any means, he could never refuse you anything

Rafayel would be sloppy, his hands holding your thighs at first before they would move to your hips to keep you in place. His face would end up covered in your wetness, a dazed look in his pretty eyes

He’d get very into it, especially if he’s drunk, worshipping you like the goddess he believes you are. He’s much more loving when he’s drunk, giving you sweet praises and telling you how well you’re doing

“Such a good girl” “you’re doing so well, baby..”

He would grip your skin, leaving his handprints on them all while marking up your thighs, a sly grin on his face when you complain about them hurting in the morning

He would definitely be whining and moaning into your cunt, the vibrations of his sounds only fuelling your orgasms

He’d definitely make you cum a few times, whether that be with his tongue or fingers, he knows how to work them both

He’d eat you wherever you want him to, on the bed, in the kitchen, the bathroom at the restaurant you’re at for a date. His favorite place is on the beach at night, the sound of the ocean mixed with your moans and mewls is his favorite

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sylus

Is it unrealistic for me to say he’d be the most gentle when eating you out?

He’s a loverboy through and through, your comfort and pleasure is what’s most important to him

That’s not to say he won’t absolutely lose his cool when he gets the chance to eat your pussy

He likes when you tug on his hair, the grunts and groans he makes into your cunt are just too delicious

Sylus wouldn’t care where he got to eat you out, in the bedroom, his office, the kitchen, even in a public setting - but he’d never let anyone actually see you exposed like that, he’s the only one allowed to, right?

He’d grip your thighs to keep you in place, his fingers leaving bruised marks with how tightly he’d hold onto you, he just makes you feel so good it’s hard not to squirm

Would definitely use his fingers, sucking on your clit as he looks up at you, taking in every expression and noise you give him

He would be understanding if you were shy about him eating you out, but he’d still encourage you to let him (though he’d never push it, he’s a gentleman after all)

He’s not too loud, mostly grunts and soft groans

I feel he would enjoy using a vibrator on you while he eats you out, it only gives you that much pleasure so why wouldn’t he?

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caleb

I love a pantie fiend Caleb so

He would 100% suck on your panties before he even thinks about anything else, he needs to get any bit of his appetiser he can before his real meal

He loves the smell of you, maybe even more than the taste, but either way he’s fucking going at you like a menace

He’s noisy, have y’all heard his workout in quality time? The Caleb girlies won, for sure.

Anyways, back in topic

He’s a fiend, loves loves loves when you sit on his face, he wants to be crushed by you and your gorgeous thighs

He could eat you out for days if you’d let him and definitely needs to make you cum a couple times with his mouth before you get his cock.

He loves snacking on you in his colonel office, the thrill of someone potentially walking in makes him even hornier and hungrier for you

He will put his colonel hat on you, he loves the way it shows you’re his <3

He honestly gets off to just the thought of you, so don’t worry about the wetness of his pants when he’s eating you out, he’s just too excited

It’s common for him to fuck you first, tasting the mix of the two of you, of what you could create together on his tongue, it always filled his head with so much dopamine that he felt like he was on cloud 9

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#lads #lads caleb #lads zayne #lads xavier #lads rafayel #lads sylus #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace #smut #lads smut #headcanons

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muletia · 2 months ago

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✧˖° 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 — 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎

mer!optimus x human!reader

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄

word count: 3000

Subconsciously, you know that deep within the forest, the siren has no chance of catching you. Maybe you’re not exactly a skilled runner, and your stamina could definitely use some work, but you’re aware that his massive body would never be able to force its way through the thicket, and the dryness and unevenness of the terrain would prevent him from maneuvering deftly among rocks and fallen trunks. You caught a glimpse of sparks of intelligence in his eyes, so you believe that even if hunger gnawed at him as much as, or even more than, it did at you, he would not risk dying from suffocation on land. You know that. Or at least you hope so.

Then why are you still running, even though you’re already far from the lagoon? Your tired legs, begging for rest against your will, are pushing you closer to the beach, towards something safer and relatively familiar, bit by pitiful chirps and howls from the creature. They remind you of his presence, refusing to let you forget or allow yourself even a moment of rest, which would mean lowering your guard. Even though they’re only echoes now, remnants of a close encounter, they keep urging you to stay alert, to keep running forward, ignoring your burning calves and lungs screaming for air.

You don’t slow down even when you catch sight of the familiar beach, forcing your legs into a few more strides until your sneakers meet the water, once again soaking through and drenching your socks. Only then are you shaken from your trance. The unpleasantness of wet shoes dethrones the reign of the escape mechanism, because you finally feel like you can think about something, anything, other than saving your skin. Your horizon widens by several dozen degrees because suddenly you realize that, during the entire escape, you only saw what was directly ahead of you, as if someone had strapped blinders to the sides of your head.

All at once, you see the uneven, large, flat rocks embedded in the shallows. The whole runway of the beach, lone clouds sailing across their own ocean, the palm leaves of a tree growing surprisingly close to the sea. You realize you’re not exactly where the ocean originally spat you out, but fortunately, it’s still your beach.

Your beach, you think cynically. Never mind that nothing here was yours, that none of it belonged to you, and you shouldn’t grow familiar with a place you were only passing through — now you’re almost certain that this whole island belongs to him.

But right now, you’re safe. Relatively, but safe, you convince yourself. Soon you’ll eat some papayas, crack open a coconut, and for what little remains of the day, you’ll scan the horizon for ships or planes. And then you’ll go to sleep. Mhm, that’s exactly what you’ll do. You have to, if you want to go home.

The wave washes over your sneakers again, like an unwelcome guest pushing its way inside and dragging your socks along into its soggy party. It’s an awful feeling, deeply unpleasant, and you sincerely wish you could just trudge back to dry sand. You know you have to return to the spot where you left the life vest. A place slightly familiar by now, one that couldn’t surprise you.

So why the hell can’t you move?

Your trembling legs are still begging to be released from service, craving just a moment of respite after such an enormous effort. You feel your throat burning like it’s set ablaze, and saliva slides down not along moist walls of flesh, but over a grater, physically causing you pain. Every breath hurts, every swallow hurts. Everything hurts. You’re terrified. Sick of this damned island. “I want to go home,” you mouth, not allowing yourself even a small squeak.

The island immediately reminds you that dreaming is a privilege, and whether you like it or not, you have to focus on the here and now.

Again, you hear the siren’s call. Just as pleading and beckoning as before, every note torn with a grief you had never heard from any living creature. The sound bombards you from behind, subtle and not as powerful as it had been back in the lagoon, but still loud enough to spread across the entire island, shattering your illusion of making this beach a safe haven free from sirens.

It’s enough to bring the will back to your legs, because with horror you realize you’re too close to the ocean. His world. His domain. And for your own safety, you have no intention of underestimating his speed in the water, even if his size was comparable to a bus.

Suddenly, the water seems to burn your feet, licking them with living fire. As if the ocean had suddenly heated up to near boiling point, urging you to retreat deeper inland, but ironically, closer to the siren.

The world had apparently decided to make you its personal fool. Probably for that one time you refused to tip a nice, handsome waiter.

That familiar feeling of an oncoming explosion greets you like an old friend.

At this point, you’ll be lucky if you make it home without hair color akin to molten mirror.

Or if you make it home at all — a negative, sinister little voice murmurs at the back of your mind, and for the first time, you’re willing to believe it.

When another instinctive swallow reminds you just how tragically wrecked your throat is, you finally find the strength to move your legs. You retreat onto dry sand, as close to the green line as you can possibly get. You’re not willing to risk another close encounter, although deep down, you know that if you don’t manage to start a fire, another trip for papayas will be unavoidable.

Or more precisely, another encounter with the siren will be unavoidable.

For a moment, your eyes are blinded by the flash of his teeth. Huge fangs and equally long incisors, molars worthy of an apex predator.

But those eyes... intelligent. Thinking. And hungry. Maybe for something more complicated than human flesh, but you really didn’t feel like finding out for exactly what.

But you don’t want to think about that right now. In fact, you would prefer not to think about anything at all, but another wail from the siren, coming from the lagoon, derails your plans. You already know that rest will only come with sleep.

If you manage to fall asleep at all.

Later. That’s a worry for later, you convince yourself. Your growling, empty stomach agrees wholeheartedly.

Recognizing the characteristic tracks of your sneakers in the sand, you know you’ve made it. Awkwardly, making sure not to drop the papayas, you grab the life vest and toss it under a palm tree, one that, for some reason, vegetation had never dared to approach.

You glance at the patch of low grass and sigh heavily.

Your new camp. Not as cozy as the three stone walls in the lagoon, but for sleeping out in the open, you owe a bitter thanks to the siren.

As if sensing your thoughts about him, he once again fills the island with his calling. Still just as sad, just as desperate.

When it comes to desperation, you aren’t so different from him. He has his reasons, incomprehensible to you (and better left that way), and you have yours, driven by hunger and thirst. And that same desperation forces you to hurl a papaya with all your might against the trunk of the palm tree. The ripe fruit bursts and splatters, breaking into smaller pieces, quickly followed by another when you repeat the motion.

Hunger doesn’t even allow you to think about dignity. The gnawing in your stomach demands food, and you answer its call. You sit beneath the palm tree, leaning your back against a part not stained with red juice, and scoop out the pulp with your fingers, occasionally brushing off the sticky sand. But even the hard grains crunching between your teeth can’t take away the relief of filling your stomach with something edible. For a moment, you truly feel like you’re eating a five-star meal, the most delicious dish prepared just for you by the world’s finest chef.

For a moment, as you gobble up sand-coated papaya, you allow yourself to feel good. You see no point in pretending everything is fine, but you feel good. The fruit has sated your hunger and somewhat quenched your thirst, although you wouldn’t say no to a glass of water — which now represents the new definition of luxury.

So you move towards a coconut, one of many lying in the sand, and just like with the papaya, you throw it against the tree trunk, since the stones lounging peacefully in the shallows, are too far away for you to dare approach.

You manage to crack the shell open on your third attempt. And just as you greedily drink the remaining water, finally, finally! quenching the fire in your throat and turning the grater back into flesh, the siren calls out again.

You know that this howl, reminding you all too much of a lonely dog's wail, will accompany you throughout your entire stay on the island, sincerely doubting that in any other part of it you will be free from the siren’s song. You are condemned to it, and he is condemned to the memory of you.

You rest your head against the palm tree and fix your gaze on the horizon of the calm ocean, having nothing better to do.

When the siren once again pierces the air with his song, you catch yourself hatching something akin to pity for him. ###

The sun shifted lower, agonizingly slowly, crawling along the horizon at a shy pace. The sunset was slowly coming to an end. During those few hours of staring blankly ahead, you hadn’t spotted even a single ship slipping across the flat skyline, and the only plane that trespassed across a sliver of the sky flew far too high to notice a tiny castaway on a large island.

After all the energy you had spent and all the stress you had endured, you were convinced that the feeling of uncertainty for your life would cling to your every thought and move like a ball and chain.

You hadn’t expected, however, that you could feel... boredom. The siren had called out a few more times before his cries fell silent, giving you the false impression, just like at the beginning of your little castaway adventure, that the only thing you had to worry about was food and water. Not about a several-ton sea monster with a craving for human flesh.

"At least the sunset here is pretty," you sigh. For some reason, you wonder whether the siren is also admiring the sunset from his lagoon, and you almost burst out laughing.

You shouldn't care at all.

But it doesn't change the fact that you wonder why it has gotten so quiet. Has he grown tired of calling out for a toothpick? Maybe he finally realized that playing on your sympathy was pointless? After all, you hadn’t returned to the lagoon, no matter how pathetic his song was. You hadn’t been fooled, so he lost interest.

No matter what his motives were, you didn’t care. Curiosity wasn’t eating you alive, unlike what might happen if you tried to get closer to him.

No, your situation was dire, but survival remained your priority. Not pondering the intentions of a siren monster, nor trying to figure them out.

Continuing the battle for your life, you finally move after sitting for several hours and set off to find another coconut. Their juice was... drinkable, but it poorly quenched your thirst, which was starting to worry you. You hadn’t seen many coconuts scattered along the beach, and judging by the speed at which your throat began demanding water again, you suspected you might plow through all your supplies by tomorrow.

"I have to find drinking water" you say out loud.

Too bad that venturing deeper into the island reduced your chances of spotting a rescue team or a passing ship. And after today’s discovery of the lagoon, you weren’t keen on exploring any more of the island. Who knows what other mythical creatures you might find? Nagas? Harpies? Oh no, you would much rather stick to this strip of beach.

You spot your next victim (a coconut) in the green part of the island, near the barrier of bushes and leaves. But before you can even grab the fruit, the familiar sound of a large body moving towards the shore tears you away from the pressing need to quench your thirst.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh fuck!

Panicking, you frantically look around for a hiding spot, then hurl yourself into the nearest bushes, dropping flat onto your stomach. Fear paralyzes you, stealing your ability to draw air into your lungs, as you wait for whatever is about to happen, praying the siren won’t notice you hidden among the foliage.

The creature emerges from the water, dragging itself over the sand deeper onto the island. Straight towards you. It ventures far, too far for your wildly beating heart’s liking, but the siren spares you a heart attack by keeping most of his tail submerged.

And as if the sight of a mythical creature mere meters from you wasn’t enough, equally astonishing and majestic, your attention is captured by something held in his jaws... a fish. Comically small compared to such a gigantic creature, but the sight of a dead fish, regardless of size, would have left you equally dumbfounded.

What did he want with that fish? Was he trying to show you what a great predator he was? you think, panic washing up your spine in a series of chills. And you hate yourself for it being your first thought, but you couldn’t interpret it any other way.

Hey, see this fish? Now imagine you in its place.

The siren shocks you even more by shifting the fish into his webbed hand, now glancing around, searching.

For you. He's looking for me — you think. He wants to eat me, devour me, I knew he was a man-eater, I knew it, and as soon as he catches my scent I'm screwed, it's over, I don't stand a chance, I'll die on this island, this damn island...

The siren lets out a few soft chirps, carrying the same intonation you heard in the lagoon, and waits, scanning the surroundings again before repeating the brief concert. Each successive chirp sounds more desperate, more sorrowful, but they all share one thing — hope.

The keen azure eyes carefully study the thicket, sometimes lingering too long on one spot. You nearly shit yourself thinking he might have spotted your hiding place. Through the gaps in the leaves, he might notice the unnatural color of your clothes among the greens, but you mentally breathe a sigh of relief when he moves on.

Good. Maybe you’ll live another day.

In a heartbeat, the face full of hope crumbles under the weight of realization that he hasn’t found you. The siren offers a final serenade, a few pleading clicks, so raw, that once again, you feel your heart thumping the beat of pity and sorrow for this creature.

Maybe... maybe he isn’t trying to eat me? the emotional part of your soul suggests — the part that makes you human. Because would a creature hunting for a meal look so... withered when failing to find you? Wouldn’t it be furious and aggressive, dropping the mask of a sad puppy?

The siren sweeps his gaze across the beach one last time, giving himself one final hope, which pops like a bubble when he doesn’t spot you. A sad, pitiful click escapes his grey lips, and the creature lowers his eyes, realizing he has failed. He places the fish back between his teeth and gracefully retreats into the ocean, terrifying you with the speed at which he vanishes beneath the waves and how well he stays hidden beneath the surface.

You know the coast is clear. You could go back to the sand and get to work on another coconut, but it feels like a massive stone has crushed you into the earth, rendering you completely motionless. The only thing you can muster is to roll onto your back so you can stare at the sky. Any other movement is beyond you.

That face... that sad yet hopeful face. You can’t get it out of your mind, and the worst part is that it becomes even more vivid when you close your eyes.

What could trouble such a powerful being? What could a god worry about?

For a moment, it feels like the answer is simple, that you’ve solved some difficult puzzle and figured him out without knowing anything about him. Because what else could the only creature on a deserted island suffer from, if not loneliness?

But you don’t want to believe yourself. There could easily be more of them scattered around the island, just waiting for you to stumble into their territory. A little toothpick, perfect for a snack.

The chorus of insects is interrupted by your stomach growling, but you don’t get up to fetch the coconut. Exhausted, stressed.

Alone.

"I want to go home," you say, and your voice breaks again and again.

Your throat tightens, as if a noose were tightening around it, until you finally stop fighting yourself.

Sobs wrack your body until sleep finally wins, wrapping you in a comforting illusion that everything is okay.

#muletia writes #for the singing and dreaming #merformers x reader #merformers #optimus prime x reader #optimus x reader #obsessed!optimus #mer optimus

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luxaofhesperides · 1 year ago

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Soulmark AU + Sleeping Beauty ; requested by @candeartist422!

For the last few years, Duke’s been waiting for his soulmate to die.

It sounds cruel to say it that way. But the waiting is more painful, he thinks, than just mourning a lost love. It’s not like most people ever meet their soulmates anyways; his parents weren’t meant to be, but they still loved each other and had a life together. He wishes he could turn his focus away from his soulmate, but Duke is a romantic at heart and has always wanted to find the other half of his soul.

But since he was fourteen, his soulmark has dulled, fading in and out of color. What was once a vibrant blue crystal star, with eight points and a swirl of watercolor hues around it, dimmed more and more until Duke was sure he was watching his soulmate die slowly.

His soulmate didn’t die then. Whoever they are got better, his soulmark gaining color, but it never went back to the way it was. For years after, Duke would check at the beginning and end of each day, keeping track of when it faded and when it regained its color.

He thought his soulmate was sick. In and out of hospitals, fighting to stay alive.

And then it went nearly colorless.

Duke doesn’t remember much about that day. He knows he woke up, brushed his teeth, the lifted up his shirt to check his soulmark in the mirror. The blue was almost completely gone, the star on his left hipbone nearly gray with how colorless it was. He started at it for a moment, shocked, and reality slid away from him as he retreated into the safety of his mind, fully dissociating.

Bruce had found him when Duke didn’t show up for breakfast. He held him and offered quiet words of comfort that Duke couldn’t understand, but just having someone with him lessened the hurt of losing his soulmate.

Seeing the color come back the next day, faint as it was, hurt even more.

A year later, Duke still can’t break the habit of checking his soulmark twice a day. It hasn’t changed at all, still faint and dim, but carrying just enough color to show that his soulmate was still alive. At the very least, they were still breathing, but his chance of ever meeting them is basically zero. Still, he can’t help but hope, wishing that he could meet them even once before they die and leave him forever.

“Same as ever,” he murmurs to himself as he brushes his thumb against his soulmark. He’s terrified that he’s forgotten how beautiful the blue of it was when his soulmate was healthy.

Duke doesn’t let himself think on it too much anymore. Though his thoughts often turn to his soulmate during quiet moments like these, the busy nature of Gotham is usually more than enough to pull his attention back to the here and now. There’s no use in obsessing over his soulmate anyways; they’re just going to die, sooner or later, and Duke knows he’ll never get to meet them. They’ll just be another empty space in his life, right next to his parents.

“Come on, Thomas, focus,” he tells himself firmly, then gets dressed and heads down to the kitchen for breakfast.

The manor is quiet. It usually is in the mornings, with everyone from the night shift dead asleep and trying to get as much rest as they can before they have to start their day. Not that many of them stay in the manor these days; Duke and Damian are the only permanent residents at the moment, but Steph usually stays half with her mom and half in the manor during the summers when she’s home from college, and the others drop in whenever they feel like it.

Bruce lives more in the Batcave than the manor, so he doesn’t really count. It’s also why Duke is surprised to see Bruce awake and dressed like a normal person, drinking coffee in the kitchen as if this is a normal occurrence.

“Morning,” Duke offers.

“Good morning, Duke,” Bruce replies. “Sleep well?”

“Well enough. Alfred out or something?”

“He may have kicked me out of the Batcave to clean it up a bit,” Bruce answers tiredly. “Want me to make breakfast?”

Duke has heard the horror stories of Bruce’s attempts to make edible food in a kitchen. In the interest of not dealing with food poisoning, Duke shakes his head quickly and says, “Nah, it’s fine. I was kinda wanting to eat out for breakfast. Get out there as me, and not a mask, you know?”

“Mind if I join you? Alfred may forgive me for not sleeping if I willingly go outside.”

Duke laughs. “Sure man, as long as you pay.”

“I’ll drive, too.”

“What, don’t trust me behind a wheel?”

Bruce gives him a tired look, eyes dead and dull. “I have taught all my children how to drive. The day I willingly let them take the wheel when I am not actively dying is the day I’ve been replaced by a robot clone of myself who doesn’t know better yet.”

“That is… very specific. Is that a thing you usually worry about?”

“I’m Batman. I have to worry about everything.”

Yeah, that tracks. Duke wouldn’t be surprised if he has at least five contingency plans for that scenario, should it ever happen. “Well,” he says, “Right now, all you need to worry about is having your wallet and driving us down to The Foodie Nook. I’ve been craving their breakfast plates for ages.”

Bruce doesn’t object to his choice of restaurant and follows Duke down to the garage, grabbing a random set of keys and pointing it out to the many cars he owns. One near the front blinks its lights as it unlocks and Duke cheerfully tosses himself into the passenger seat as Bruce opens the garage door.

The drive into Gotham is smooth. They don’t hit traffic until they reach the bridge that leads into the city proper, taking them away from the quiet of Bristol. The morning is busy, but not enough that Duke worries about being out as the Signal to help keep the peace. It’s a normal type of busy, one borne from people going about their lives, feeling safe enough to go out.

The Foodie Nook is entirely local and very popular, so the parking lot is nearly full. But they expanded their space last year, which means he and Bruce don’t have to sit outside while they wait to grab a table. Bruce keeps conversation light and casual, well aware of the many listening ears around them, and it’s nice, feeling normal for once.

Well, as normal as life can be with Bruce Wayne™. The server who comes to lead them to a table realizes who she’s talking to after she gets a proper look at them while holding open the door and promptly stutters over her words.

“No need for any special treatment,” Bruce laughs lightly, “We’re just here for breakfast. Nothing special.”

“Of course,” she replies, cheeks red. “Um, right this way! We’ve got a table by the windows for you. Just two, yeah?”

“Yup! Just two. Thought this was a good day to spend some time with Duke. He’s a great kid, you know, I’m glad I was given the opportunity to foster him.”

The sunny, cheerful Bruce Wayne persona is so different from the usual Bruce he works with that it feels like he’s standing next to a stranger. But his words are sincere and warm his heart, filling up the gaps that his soulmate has left.

“Here you are!” their server announces, showing them to their table. “I’ll be right back with some menus.” She’s gone in a rush, and other customers glance over before quickly averting their gaze.

It’s one of the unspoken rules of Gotham: give the Waynes their privacy while they’re out in public. Questions and conversation are for public events only, but if they see a Wayne out and about during a normal day, everyone leaves them be unless spoken to first. Duke used to follow those rules as well when he was just another Gothamite. It’s strange being on the other side of that now that he’s in with the Waynes.

Duke barely has to look through the menu when it’s handed to him. The breakfast plates are his favorites and he gets one every single time he comes to The Foodie Nook; stacked full with breakfast foods from around the world. As a kid, he loved the Mexico Plate, but these days he’s craving either the Brazilian Plate or the Vietnamese Plate.

He can’t decide on which one and thinks about tossing a coin to decide, but seeing how that’s Two Face’s whole thing, he decides to hold off and settle the matter with eenie-meenie-minnie-mo.

He gets the Vietnamese Plate.

Bruce, on the other hand, reads through the entire menu like it’s a novel, then leans over and says rather loudly, “Duke, what’s a tort-illa.”

The pain he feels hearing that is only worsened by the amusement in Bruce’s eyes. He’s doing it on purpose, playing up the Brucie act for the public so he can psychologically torment Duke. A few nearby customers choke back laughter, turning away to hide their smiles.

Duke shakes his head and says, “Don’t worry about it. It’s just food. Don’t ask any more questions, I just want a peaceful breakfast.”

“Well then,” Bruce replies, “I suppose I know what to order now.”

As if she was summoned, their server reappears before them, cheeks still looking a little flushed. “Hi! Ready to order?”

She writes down their orders quickly, valiantly keeping a straight face at Bruce’s mispronunciation of tortilla, then heads off to deliver their orders to the kitchen.

Rather than draw out a conversation with Brucie Wayne, Duke settles for playing a few idle games on his phone; his current favorite is one quiet cat cafe game where he directs cats into fulfilling cafe orders.

Bruce, despite being out in his civilian identity, is working. He’s on his Batman phone, which looks the same as his other cell phones except this one has a bat symbol sticker just barely hiding a Superman sticker on the phone case. His brow is slightly furrowed as he reads whatever file he’s accessing from the Batcomputer. It’s a little worrying but it could be anything. Bruce makes the same expression when he reads one of Tim’s snarky comments getting quoted in the news.

But that’s not Duke’s problem! He’s here to enjoy his breakfast and it will take the end of the world itself to remove him from his seat before he’s done eating.

The game takes most of his attention until their food comes out, and by then Bruce has tucked away the smallest of his Batman mannerisms. They enjoy a normal, peaceful breakfast. Bruce ends it by asking their server if she has any debt that’s weighing her down, then giving her a tip that’s at least five thousand dollars above that.

She does cry and Bruce hugs her. It’s very sweet.

As soon as they get back into the car, his easy going smile drops and Duke knows some superhero nonsense is about to take over his day.

“Duke,” Bruce starts, seriously, “I received a message from Zatanna.”

“Don’t drag this out,” Duke says, “Just give it to me straight. What terrible thing is about to happen to us?”

“It’s nothing too big. They just recently defeated a magical being who had been tearing apart secret government facilities in Illinois. He had both magic and a high tech weapon, which they confiscated and are delivering to me. The government agency he was fighting was suspiciously interested in the weapon, and based on their behaviors and newly revealed work, Zatanna made the decision to turn the weapon over to us so it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.”

Bruce smoothly merges into traffic as he speaks, getting them onto the road back to the manor. There’s a look in his eyes that means he’s keeping a lot unsaid, and Duke knows without a doubt that whatever this government agency was doing is bad if Zatanna needs Batman to act as extra security.

He’s not sure about her decision to trust the weapon to be safe in Gotham, either. Sure, Batman will keep it as safe as he can, but with their luck, it’ll end up in the hands of a Rogue and lead to a lot of death and destruction.

As soon as they cross the bridge and return to Bristol, Bruce steps on the gas and the car tears down the road. Without any other cars to worry about (or traffic laws), it takes barely two minutes to reach the manor, when the gates open for them and let them into the garage.

Alfred waits for them by the door, looking them over with a critical eye. “I see you have managed to go outside, Master Bruce. What’s the special occasion?”

“Just breakfast,” Bruce answers. “I’m heading back down to the Batcave. Zatanna will be here soon to deliver a weapon.” He’s gone before Alfred can say anything more, hurrying down the hall and turning the corner, disappearing from sight as he heads towards his office.

“I see we have yet to break that bad habit of his. Did you enjoy your morning out, Master Duke?”

“Sure did, Alfred. I’m, uh, also going down to the Batcave. He’s definitely not telling me a lot about what’s going on, so I’m just going to read about it over his shoulder. I’ll be back up for lunch, though!”

“And perhaps you’ll be able to drag Master Bruce away from that cave of his,” Alfred comments wryly as he walks with Duke towards the office. He gives Duke a nod, then splits away from him, returning to the kitchen where Duke can hear Damian speaking to someone, probably Tim by the annoyed tone of his voice, and mentally wishes Alfred luck in handling them.

Duke sets the correct time on the clock in Bruce’s office and heads down to the Batcave, taking the steps two at a time.

Bruce is already at the Batcomputer, shoulders tensed, when he arrives.

“More bad news?” he asks as he makes his way over.

Bruce doesn’t bother looking away from the screen as he says, “More details about the fight. It seems the magical being called himself a ghost and was going on a rampage due to a betrayal. He says they nearly killed his son.”

“Oh, yikes.”

“And two of the scientists working with the government agency said that he stole their son and is keeping them from saving him.”

“Yikes,” Duke says with more feeling.

He doesn’t get to hear anymore details about JLD’s fight with this ghost when he catches a flicker in the corner of his eye. Duke turns and stares at the empty space in the Batcave near the medbay and watches as colorful magic gathers and swirls in dizzing circles. The portal opens a moment later and Zatanna steps out, looking exhausted and lightly singed.

“Batman,” she greets, holding a white gun that looks like it belongs in an early sci-fi movie from the 60s. “The GIW is trying to arrest us. Constantine keeps burning their badges and documents so it shouldn’t be a problem, but they are determined to get this back. I wouldn’t be surprised if they came after you next. They’ve got some way of tracking things, but I didn’t have time to get any details before I had to leave.”

Bruce takes the gun from her hands carefully, looking it over with a sharp gaze. “Why would a ghost want to use a gun?”

“I don’t know. He had a variety of powers, too.”

“What does this do?”

“Shoots ice. He never let it go and nearly burned me alive for taking it before we subdued him.”

“We’ll keep it locked up,” Bruce promises.

Zatanna sighs. It looks as though a physical weight fell off her shoulders. “Thanks. I’m going to head back to stop Constantine from getting into a fistfight with the GIW agents.”

She opens another portal with a waved hand and a muttered spell. Bruce is already walking away to set the gun down on a work station, so Duke is the one to wave Zatanna goodbye.

By the time he reaches Bruce’s side, the gun is already dismantled, all pieces neatly set aside. Sticky notes denote which pieces go together and in what order. It looks the same as most guns, save for the aesthetic, but the heart of it is a glowing blue orb, large enough to cover the entirety of Bruce’s palm, and it brings a chill to the air.

Duke stares at it and feels his soulmark burn ice cold.

“Duke?”

It’s in his hands. He doesn’t remember reaching out to take it, but it’s in his hands. He can’t take his eyes off of it, cradling it gently and bringing it closer to his chest.

It’s the same blue his soulmark once was. Before his soulmate began to fade, before every day became a waiting game to see how long his soulmate will last before they die.

This has something to do with his soulmate. He’s sure of it.

He won’t let anyone take it from him.

“Duke. Give that to me.”

He doesn’t feel like he’s in his body. He’s detached, floating somewhere outside his body, puppeteering his limbs, making them move without feeling the motion. Shadows condense around his feet and Bruce takes a step back, wary.

“Duke,” he says again, but Duke can’t find any words, can’t draw on his voice, can’t even look away from the bright, bright blue of the orb. It pulses lightly in his hand like a heartbeat.

Bruce reaches a hand out.

He’s pulled back by shadows before he can get close, and Duke holds the orb against his chest, right against his heart, and feels the cold seep into him.

“Duke. I need you to look at me.” This time, Bruce’s voice has Batman’s growl in it, a heavy command that he can’t help but instinctively follow. He looks up and meets Bruce’s eyes, but he can’t focus. All his awareness is in his hands and the heartbeat of the glowing orb.

“I have to protect this,” Duke manages to whisper. “I… I think it’s alive.”

“Okay. Let’s get you to the medbay so you can sit down. We’ll figure this out, Duke.”

Bruce slowly, carefully, sets his hand on Duke’s shoulder. He keeps his attention away from the orb, so Duke allows it and lets Bruce guide him to the medbay and onto one of the medical cots. Bruce leaves him after a minute of quiet fussing, muttering about calling Zatanna.

Whatever. None of that matters when the heartbeat of the orb grows stronger, steadier, and Duke feels it match the beat of his own heart.

Time slips away from him. Distantly, he hears people move around the cave, speaking in low tones. A hand presses against his shoulder, warm, then moves away.

The orb in his hand moves.

Duke blinks slowly, then claws his way back to awareness, pushing past the haze that’s fallen over his mind. The orb turns over in his hand, then cracks right down the middle. The glow grows stronger, washing the medbay in blue light and a symbol appears on the orb.

It’s his soulmark.

Later, he won’t be able to say why he did it. There were no thoughts, no reasonings, no explanations. Duke simply moved on instinct and lifted the orb up to his face and pressed a soft kiss against it.

One moment, the orb was still.

The next, it had burst in a flash of light that blinded everyone in the Batcave, and then a thin, injured teenager had fallen into Duke’s lap.

Hands immediately grab him, pulling him away from Duke. The teenager puts up no fight, eyes barely open, but he reaches for Duke weakly. On his wrist is the bright blue snowflake, the color strong and vivid.

“That’s me soulmate,” Duke whispers as he watches Bruce and Tim set the boy down on another medical cot.

“What?” Tim says, turning to face Duke, concern clear on his face.

“That’s my soulmate,” he repeats, louder. Then, panicked, he pulls up his shirt enough to see his own soulmark; the color is still dull, weak, barely there, but it’s more blue that it has been in a while. He doesn’t need to say anything. Tim sees the dullness of his soulmark, looks at the boy, and puts the pieces together on his own.

“I’ll call Doc Thompkins,” he says, already moving to fix everything. Bruce remains where he is, making sure the boy is tucked in and breathing steadily before he returns to Duke.

“Are you alright?”

Duke swallows roughly, unable to tear his eyes away from the boy. He’s pale and thin, as if he’d been starved, and there’s frost beginning to spread on the bedsheet from his fingers. “He’s my soulmate,” Duke manages to say. “He’s been dying for two years.”

Bruce’s eyes a hard, a determined light in them. “We’ll save him,” he promises.

If anyone can, it’s Batman.

If anyone can, it’s them, Batman and the Signal, and their entire network of family and friends.

Duke’s been waiting for his soulmate to die all this time. Now, he’s going to save him.

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #prompt fill #my writing #i dont really know much abt jld so they are not really in here #just duke trying to live his life and have a nice day with bruce #when his soul mate gets thrown at him in the form of an ORB #(ghost core but they dont know that yet)#dannys gonna have to answer so many questions once hes awake bc not many know abt realms beings #its gonna be rough for him bc he's been asleep for 2 years in his core bc he was never safe enough to recover #until duke gave him a boost (plus the power of soulmates really helped him) and he woke up #in a cave with his soulmate and a whole crew of superheroes #what a thing to open ur eyes to. rip danny lol #thanks for the prompt!

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nostarfights · 7 days ago

Text

If I Ever Were To Lose You

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X fem!supersoldier!Reader

Summary: Seeing you get injured during a mission helps Bucky come to terms with his feelings for you.

Warnings: Mentions of violence, reader getting injured, blood, a concussion, stitches, a coma, guns, crying, kissing, friends to lovers trope, takes place during tfatws and a few uses of y/n.

Word Count: 2.4K

a/n: ngl this is a little cringe but i hope y’all like it anyway lol

the photo below does not belong to me

Your breathing was quick but quiet as you and Bucky entered the warehouse Redwing had spotted Walker hiding in just a few hours ago, your hand placed on the gun holster on your hip, ready to grab your gun the second you needed it.

But even with Bucky there by your side and Sam waiting nearby just in case, you still had a bad feeling about this mission. Like something was going to go wrong, especially now that Walker was stronger due to the serum.

Your heart pounded more and more the closer you got to where Walker had been spotted hiding behind a pillar within the building. “Walker, we know you’re here. Just come with us and no one has to get hurt.” Bucky called out as you slowly withdrew your gun from its holster.

You’d given Walker enough chances to surrender, there was no point in trying to negotiate with him anymore. But Walker wasn’t in the mood for surrendering and he sure as hell wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

Not feeling the need to reply to Bucky, Walker left his hiding spot and headed right for Bucky. He then barreled into him with enough force to cause him to stumble back a few feet, using that chance to send punch after punch into Bucky’s face while he tried to regain his footing. It was shocking to you in this moment to see just how strong Walker had become, you’d never seen any enemy catch Bucky off guard like this for as long as you’d known him.

But you weren’t going to just stand by and watch. So you quickly slid your gun back into its holster and ran over to where the two of them were fighting, immediately pulling Walker off of Bucky. “Give up, Walker. It’s over.” you sternly said through clenched teeth while you shoved him to the ground then cuffed his hands together.

And as you stood up and walked over to Bucky to make sure he was okay, you thought that you’d been right. That this long fight with Walker was over and you could finally put him away, but he soon proved you wrong.

“You okay?” you’d started to say to Bucky as the sound of the cuffs breaking apart rang out, cutting you off as you both whipped your heads in Walker’s direction. He’d broken out of the cuffs and was now back on his feet, ready to fight again. But before he could get the chance to swing, you were on him again, sending punch after punch of your own into his face and body, knocking him back onto the ground. He stayed there for a minute, giving himself the chance to recover once more and in a blink of an eye he was back on his feet yet again.

To see how much stronger he was currently compared to you and Bucky terrified you, would this fight ever end? “(y/n), watch out!” Bucky warned as Walker barreled towards you this time. He’d tried to stop Walker but it was too late and when his fist made contact with your chest, your body went flying for a few seconds before you hit the ground, your head roughly smacking against the concrete floor below you once you landed.

And before you could even get the chance to get back up, Walker had pinned you to the ground by your shoulders and slid the knife he’d been hiding in his boot into your right side, causing you to scream out in pain. It’d be a lot easier for him to get away again if Bucky was distracted by your injuries.

In this moment, you couldn’t move even as Walker eased up on his grip on you, you were paralyzed with fear and pain and Bucky just watched, like a deer frozen in headlights. He’d never frozen up like this ever before and that scared him.

But before another thought could pop into his head, Bucky got a good look at you and began to feel as if he was seeing red. He was done going easy on Walker, he needed to pay for what he’d done. Bucky then placed his hands on Walker’s shoulders and ripped him off of you, giving him one final punch to the face that finally knocked him out, letting his now unconscious body fall to the floor below.

Bucky then rushed to your side right away and started to hold you in his bruised arms. You began to grow heavy as you laid there in Bucky’s arms, the handkerchief he’d retrieved from his pocket moments ago barely doing anything to stop or at least slow down your bleeding. It was no use.

“Stay with me, baby. Keep your eyes open for me please.” he begged as his voice broke, tears streaming down his face. “Bucky?” you weakly said as your eyes fluttered closed for the last time today and your blood began to stain the concrete.

“No!” he screamed, his voice bouncing off of the walls of the nearly empty warehouse. Bucky quickly checked your heartbeat in the midst of his crying as he’d started to talk to Sam through the comms, it was shallow but still there. “Sam, we need help. (y/n)’s been stabbed, it’s not looking too good.” he quickly said, trying to hide the fact that he was crying.

Upon his quick arrival just a few minutes later, Bucky gently scooped your limp body off of the ground and handed you over to Sam. “What the hell happened?” Sam muttered whilst a shock look took over his face and he took you from Bucky.

“I’ll tell you another time, just please, get her to the hospital. Promise me that you’ll keep her safe.” Bucky begged as Sam’s wings began to extend, his eyes bright red and his face covered in tears. “You have my word.” Sam said before he started to fly away, going as fast as his wings could possibly go before it was too late.

Bucky wanted more than anything else in the world to go with you and Sam but he knew that it’d be for the best to have Sam take you to the hospital, even if it broke his heart to let you go while he went back to the tower alone, still sobbing.

—-------------------------------------------

As soon as he made it back to the tower, Bucky felt himself sprinting to the part of the building that Tony had turned into a hospital years ago as if his body was on autopilot. All that mattered to him in this moment was making sure that you were okay. He’d become so caught up in his thoughts that he hadn’t even realized that he’d made it to the hospital and almost ran into a sad looking Sam who had just finished speaking with your doctor.

“Bucky.” Sam softly said, immediately catching his attention as Sam placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him from going any further. Bucky’s eyes teared up once more as he looked at his friend, “She’s going to be okay,” Sam started, pausing for a moment as he took a breath then began to deliver the bad news to Bucky, who currently felt like he could finally breathe again since you passed out, “But because of how hard her head hit the ground, the concussion she got caused her to fall into a coma. The doctor doesn’t know when she’ll wake up, it could be days or weeks.” Sam explained, trying his best to be strong for you and Bucky.

Bucky’s heart dropped and even though he knew you were going to be okay, he was still riddled with fear and worry. He felt like he’d gotten the wind knocked out of him. He’d come so close to losing you and the fact that you were in a coma broke his heart.

As he continued to process everything he’d just been told, a wave of sadness hit him and Bucky collapsed into Sam’s arms while sobs violently shook his body. He wished he could’ve been better at protecting you. He could’ve prevented this but instead he froze up and let it happen, like an idiot.

Sam helped Bucky back onto his feet, supporting him while he walked him to your room, tears pouring down his own face. It’d been years since he had seen Bucky this broken and he desperately hoped, for Bucky’s sake, that you’d pull through.

Once they made it into your room, Bucky could barely stand the second his eyes landed on your sleeping form, your skin was paler and there were bruises scattered across your arms and face, breaking Bucky’s heart even more. The emotional pain he was feeling as a result of today’s events had become too much. But before he could collapse again, Sam quickly pulled up a chair to your bedside and helped Bucky sit down.

“I’m here for you if you need anything, Buck. Stay as long as you need.” Sam told Bucky as he stood next to him and Bucky quickly became a shell of a man the longer he stared at you. “Thanks.” Bucky quietly said through his tears and Sam started to leave the room, closing the door behind him to give the two of you some privacy.

Bucky was silent as he began to hold your hand in both of his and pressed his forehead to it as he closed his eyes. He felt so guilty, he had always vowed to himself to protect you and he failed, he hoped you'd forgive him once you woke up.

And as he sat there with you, seeing you almost die finally made him see that he was in love with you and that was okay. He promised himself that he wouldn’t bury his feelings for you ever again. Life was too short for him to continue hiding the fact that he loved you more than anyone else.

“Come back to me, baby. I love you.” he muttered against your skin.

—-------------------------------------------

One Week Later

As you woke up, you began to feel confused and disoriented while you opened your eyes for the first time in seven days and the bright light above you in your hospital room caused your head to start to hurt.

“Where am I? Why does my hand feel so heavy?” you thought as you slowly looked around the room and you began to squint your eyes. A soft smile appeared on your face as you looked to your left and saw Bucky sitting next to your bed, his head resting on your joined hands while he slept.

“Bucky?” you quietly said, still squinting due to the light. He looked tired, pale and there were bags under his eyes. You wondered how long he’d been there. He awoke abruptly, the sound of your voice calming him. You were okay, you’d come back to him. He could finally breathe again. “(y/n)!” he exclaimed as he began to gently hug you and tears welled up in his eyes.

“How long was I out for?” you quietly asked him as you looked into his tired eyes, the sight of this making you frown. “A week,” he told you, pausing before he spoke up again a moment later, “I missed you so much. I’ve been so worried but I’m glad you’re okay,” he continued before silence soon took over the room, “I’m so sorry this happened and that I wasn’t able to stop Walker.” he confessed as a few tears fell down his face, showing you just how guilty he’d been feeling for the past week.

Your frown became deeper as you reached up and wiped Bucky’s tears away, “Bucky, you have nothing to apologize for. I can handle myself.” you told him as he placed his hand over yours. Bucky let out a deep breath as he opened his mouth to speak, “I know,” he began as he nodded his head, “I’m just always terrified that I’m going to lose you every time we go on a mission. And even though I knew you were okay, seeing you like this broke my heart. I haven’t been able to leave your side this entire time.” he explained, prompting you to hold his hand and stroke the back of it with your thumb. “I’m okay, stop worrying.” you quietly said, making Bucky smile a little.

Silence took over the room for the second time that day as both of your minds began to run rampant and you processed everything that had been said as well as the things Bucky had wanted to say. “I’m in love with you, sweetheart. I just wish I could've had the confidence to tell you before all of this happened.” Bucky simply said as he looked over into your eyes, his heart on his sleeve.

Hearing him say this caused your face to break out into a smile, you’d been waiting for what like forever to hear these words leave his mouth. “I love you too, James, I always have. I’ve just been waiting for you to tell me that you felt the same,” you said, the sound of your confession and his name falling from your lips causing his heart to warm, “But maybe now that I’m awake we can make up for lost time?” you suggested to him with a wink.

And in an instant, Bucky started to softly kiss you while he held your face in his large hands once more. “I love you so much, baby.” he muttered against your lips in between kisses, causing butterflies to appear in your stomach.

“Bucky? Could you turn the lights off please? I have a headache.” you softly asked him once his lips pulled away from yours again a few seconds later. “Of course.” he answered with a soft smile as he stood up from his chair and crossed the room to turn the lights off.

Upon returning to your bedside, he gently scooped you up and moved you over a little so that he could lay down with you. You then slowly rotated so that you were facing him on your non-injured side and snuggled into him, resting your head on his chest.

And although you had just woken up, being in a coma had caused you to feel exhausted and you soon started to get sleepy. “Rest, sweetheart.” Bucky murmured against your hair as he wrapped his arm around you. He’d ask you to be his another time, for now he’d just let you sleep.

NAVIGATION

send me a request!

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xxchumanixx · 9 months ago

Note

Hiii! If its not much trouble could I request a tim Bradford and reader fic where she's really shy and sensitive, but still diligent at work and his rookie? He usually had a soft spot for her bcs he has a crush on her but she messes up a case and gets yell at by him?? Calls her a crybaby and all?? But later he comforts her and confesses? Maybe she thinks he likes lucy up until that point?? Just a lot of angst filled with pining and fluff! Thanks sm and I love your workk💕

Headrush

Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Warnings/Tags: language! (Shut up, Steve), fluff, hurt, angst

Word count: 2.523

Authors note: Oh my god, it's been so long, I'm so sorry! Thank you a lot for your request! I really liked the idea and I hope you'll like how I wrote it.

Lots of love! ❤️

Please, as always

Enjoy!

"Shit, shit, shit!" you cursed under your breath, biting your lip as your fingers anxiously fiddled with the belt on your hips.

This was not how this case was supposed to go.

Not at all.

It was like a damn domino effect - one thing went down the hill, and so did the rest one after another.

A whole fucking shitshow.

That your suspect was lying dead on the street was just the cherry on top.

He had tried to run from you, not watching where he went. You tried to warn him, yelled that he should watch out, when a car hit him, and sent him flying over the street.

Tim stood beside you, eyes wide and mouth agape, not really believing what he saw. He wasn't sure whether to yell at you, comfort you, or just get back in the car.

He gritted his teeth, hands balling into fists. He usually was softer with you, than he was with other rookies he had.

You just didn't know that he harbored feelings for you that went far beyond being your TO.

A conflicting thing, really.

"You-" he started, cutting himself off, eyes flying over the scene. The dead man on the floor, the shocked civilians all around you.

The poor woman that drove the car that hit the man.

The ambulance covered the man with a sheet, calling the coroner.

That was what snapped him.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Tim spoke up, rasing his voice as he looked down at you. "What the hell did you think?" You flinched at his tone, some of your usual shyness and sensitivity shining through.

Tim bit his cheek, so hard he almost drew blood.

He felt bad, sorry even.

To yell at you was one of the things he wanted the least, but he had no other choice if he wanted you to be successful.

At least, that's what he told himself.

"Sir, I-" you wanted to defend yourself, but he didn't let you. Once he was in that stage of rage, it was hard to see an escape through the fog.

"No, of course you did not!" he went on, the look on his face both terrifying and breaking you.

To ever think you'd stand a chance with the man yelling down at you seemed like the stupidest thing in the world suddenly.

"How could you let him get this far?" he continued to rage, seemingly not caring about the people around you that started to watch the commotion. "You should have stopped him!"

You swallowed, a bitter pill you'd forced upon yourself by letting the suspect get this far. That you'd fallen pretty badly along the way, most likely spraining your ankle, wasn't important anymore.

Who knew if he'd even seen it?

"I- I'm sorry." you breathed out, doing your best not to lose your face in front of him. The day had started bad, and it got worse the longer it went on. "I shouldn't have let him get this far."

Tim scoffed, hands fisting his belt as he looked around you. "I shouldn't have let you handle this on your own." he spoke, voice a mix of regret and spite. "I should have known better."

His words hit you like a punch to the gut.

You knew you were ready, and damn he knew it, too. Mistakes were normal, no matter how long you were doing the job already. But with your last week as a rookie rolling around, he pushed you more and more beyond your limits.

You felt tears burn in your eyes, the ugly tugging sensation in your jaw when you tried your very best to hold them back.

But Tim had already seen them.

His head tilted in disbelief, eyes widening before they narrowed.

Not a good sign.

"Are you gonna cry?" he asked, voice full of disbelief. "Are you kidding me? What are you? A fucking crybaby?"

Told you so.

You cleared your throat, cheeks burning in shame.

"No, no, of course not." you mumbled, trying to steady your voice. Tim tilted his head more, sending you a look that told you to repeat yourself. "No, I'm not crying." you repeated louder, looking up at him.

To say his behavior hurt was an understatement.

"Get in the car." he hissed, motioning at the shop. You nodded, doing as he told you without protesting.

It wouldn't have done you any good, anyway.

Moral of the story suddenly played in your head, and you couldn't help but think how right Ashe was, as you climbed into the passengers seat.

You had learned a lot about Tim the last year, yet he surprised you with how cold and harsh he was right now.

You should have never let your stupid crush get out of hand like this. Maybe to be hurt like this, to be talked down by him like that - maybe that was your moral of the story.

Like they said: Never fuck the company.

Not that you and Tim had gotten physically close somehow, but that didn't stop your mind from imagining sometimes.

You just were glad you experienced him like this before anything could have happened.

Not that you had much faith in that, anyway.

____

You let out a sigh, as you finally made your way out of the station.

It had been a long day, maybe the longest of your life. After driving back you had to wait before being questioned about the incident. It went on for nearly two hours, in which they decided you weren't responsible for the suspects death.

Yes, he had run from you, but it was his own decision, and you had tried to warn him.

You body-cam proofed it.

You hadn't seen Tim since you'd gotten out of the shop, silently thankful for it.

You didn't know if you'd been able to endure another round of his scolding today without actually breaking down.

Seeing Lucy though, only pressed on your sore nerves more. Yes, you liked her as a friend, but the thought that Tim seemed head over heels for her warred with that.

Only a fool wouldn't see.

The cold night air hit your skin, effectively cooling it down and clearing your head a little. You hoped to get home and fall in bed, only waking up again when you would have forgotten this day.

But someone seemed to have other plans.

"Y/N, wait!" he called out after you, and you only then noticed that his car was still in the almost empty parking lot.

You debated whether to ignore him, act like you didn't hear, but your consciousness said otherwise. You turned around as he stopped in front of you, silently cursing yourself for being such a good person.

He seemed at a loss for words for a moment, lips parted, like he didn't expect you to actually wait. "Listen," he then started, brows furrowing slightly as his gaze drifted away for a brief second. "I didn't mean to be so harsh on you back there."

You frowned, blinking a few times in confusion. Was he a-

"I'm sorry."

You didn't know what to say, now at a loss for words yourself. "I- i'ts okay." you then said after finding your voice, biting your cheek. "You lectured me, and it's not like it wasn't justified, sir."

He gritted his teeth, you could see even in the dim streetlight.

"No, that was too harsh." he gave back, shaking his head, frown deepened. "It wasn't your fault he was hit by the car. You tried to warn him and he didn't listen."

You pushed your bottom lip forward, not sure where his sudden change in mood came from. "Look, sir-" you started, but he cut you off. "Stop that." he demanded, the frown on his face bordering on angry now.

Your lips parted in confusion, not sure what you did wrong now.

"Stop calling me sir." he said. "We both know that's needless. It's not like- I mean, you're one week away from becoming a p2. We both know you'll make it with flying colors. Call me Tim."

He was selfish, he knew it.

But if it meant he'd hear his name from your mouth even once, he'd do anything. He didn't know yet if you'd choose to stay after graduation, and he'd have to take what he got.

He was in way too deep.

You swallowed before you nodded, gaze meeting the ground. Your teeth maltreated your cheek, not sure how to react.

"I've never- I've never seen a dead person like this before." you suddenly spoke, looking back up at him. "I didn't know where my head was, and you yelled at me. I was overwhelmed."

It just bubbled out of you. Maybe the dim lighting made you bolder.

"That's not me." you continued, shaking your head. "I- I'm tidily, I always make sure to give my best, it just-" Without you noticing, tears formed in the corners of your eyes, and you gasped for air.

Tim's own eyes widened, as he realized you were about to panic.

He closed the distance, wrapping his arms around you.

It was pure instinct, every nerve in him telling him to hug you, to comfort you.

To not make him see you cry.

He couldn't.

"It's okay." he spoke softly, as your fingers fisted the material of his jacket. "It wasn't your fault. I'm sorry for yelling at you."

You couldn't help the tears from flowing, not when he held you like this, doing his best to make you feel better.

"I should have known." you sobbed, pushing the shame for crying onto his jacket aside for now. "I wasn't ready."

He shooed you, one hand carding through your hair.

He knew if someone saw you two, this would have ended badly.

But he couldn't bring himself to care.

"You are ready." he gave back. "More than ready. I've seen you out there, you always have yourself under control. You're diligent, something that not every rookie is. You may be shy, and maybe a bit sensitive, but that's something good. You know how to talk to people, you understand them. And I know this wasn't your fault. You did your absolute best, and that's exactly what I told them back there."

You swallowed, cheeks heating up at his words.

You didn't expect him to be so open and soft with you.

"You- you really think that?" you asked, sniffing as the tears slowly subsided. He chuckled softly. "God, you have no clue." he mumbled, gaze flitting over the dark parking lot.

You frowned, not sure what he meant. But before you could have asked, he continued on his own.

"I'm not good at this emotional stuff." he said with a huff. "But you are. And I'm grateful for it, I really am, because I learned to get better at it, because of you. And I'm supposed to be the TO here, not you."

You chuckled, not having expected him to learn something from you whilst training you.

"You should talk to Lucy, then." you suggested, the thought jabbing at your heart. But if he wanted her, he'd be prepared for the emotional talk now, then.

Tim frowned, looking down at you with confusion. He gently pushed you away enough to look in your eyes.

"What do you mean?" he wanted to know, trying to make out what you were telling him. Your cheeks heated up, but you knew there was no turning back now.

Might as well reap what you've sown by digging into his personal life.

"I mean that you can tell her how you feel if you're better at emotional stuff now." you explained, doing your best to look encouraging. He scoffed a laugh, nose crinkling slightly. "Wait, you think I-" he started, but cut himself off with another laugh.

You frowned, suddenly feeling uncertain. "Yes, I mean-" you wanted to explain yourself, but he cut you off, hands on your arms as he leaned a bit down to look into your eyes. "No." he said firmly, a grin on his lips. "I'm not in love with Lucy."

The thought almost seemed absurd to him.

Why would he want Lucy when you were here, standing right in front of him?

Your frown deepened, thoughts running a million miles a minute. "Wait, you're not?" you asked, voice carrying a hint of disbelief and maybe relief. He laughed under his breath, shaking his head. "No." he confirmed. "I'm not."

Silence hung between you like a heavy fog, only broken by a huff leaving your lips. "Well, I'm not as good at reading people as I thought I am." you mumbled, biting your cheek.

He shrugged as if to say I noticed. "If you were you would have known I don't want Lucy." he said, empathizing her name.

You cocked a brow, looking up at him again. "What do you mean?"

He sent you a smile that sent your heart into a frenzy, and for a moment, you thought you'd have a headrush. "I mean," he began, eyes wandering over your face. "That I can't wait for you to be a p2."

You felt dumb.

"Tim-" you started, but cut yourself off, as realization suddenly hit you like a freight train. "Wait, what?"

He chuckled, a sound that seared its way into your brain the first time you'd heard it. "Yes." he confirmed. "I don't want Lucy, because I already want you, Y/N."

It felt like the night sky had decided to let all it's lucky stars rain down on you at once.

A mix of emotions rushed through you, and you felt like you'd actually have a headrush.

"What- How?" you stammered, words escaping your brain. "I- I mean, why me? Why not her?"

Tim cocked a brow at your words. He knew you'd say something like that, a clear sign of how well he knew you by now. "Because you're you." he said. "Because you care. You're smart, funny, cute. You are a good cop, and I couldn't ask for more in a person than you already are. I don't want Lucy, because I'm not interested in her the way that I'm interested in you."

You inhaled shakily, his words like a balm to your wounded heart.

"And if you'd let me, I'd like to take you out once you're officially a p2." he added with hope shining in his bright eyes.

A smile spread your lips at his words. "I'd love to go out with you, Tim." you gave back, causing his own smile to grow.

His eyes fell to the smile on your lips, and suddenly he cared even less about the open space of the parking lot.

"Can I kiss you?" he wanted to know, eyes finding their way back to yours.

Your smile widened, and you nodded. "You can."

It was delicate the way he pressed his lips to yours, like petals of a flower. One hand snaked its way into your hair, cupping the back of your head to pull you closer. Your own hands gripped his jacket, anchoring you.

It was all you could have wished for.

And suddenly, the headrush wasn't so unpleasant anymore.

Tag List:

@newobsessionweekly @laheysfilm @dhundhchrih @augustvandyne @rookietrek @nachofriess @dtftheavengers @wonderland2425 @freyathehuntress @skywalker0809

#the rookie #the rookie imagine #the rookie x reader #the rookie x u #tim bradford #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x you #tim bradford imagine

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saturnznct · 10 months ago

Text

the sims | dad!jake

➸ note; just a summary of the sims :)

➸ word count; 2189 words

➸ warning(s); accidental pregnancy x2, a bit suggestive, birth & feeding, cryptic pregnancy

enhypen masterlist (lnks will be added later)

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

you and jake meet when he and jay go to a bar together lol the two of you can’t stop staring at each other and jay, with the help of some liquid courage, convinces jake to go up to you and get your number

so you start hanging out

he’s so shy with you at first because he has such a big crush and you think he’s just adorable

one day he just thinks fuck it and kisses you and the rest is history

you’d been together for seven years and engaged for a few months when you get pregnant

you were usually great with protection but one time you’d run out of condoms and just decided to take the risk

you were terrified to tell him but he was excited, but a bit unsure of what to do

once your little bump and everything shows up he’s obsessed

very touchy, waits on you hand and foot

all the members are super excited, they love sam so another enha baby to love is super exciting

achy is probably the best way to sum up your pregnancy, your back and feet hurt a lot all of the time

when you find out you’re having a girl he gets so giddy

definitely loves a good chat with the bump

goes all shy and bashful when she responds to him

i don’t imagine him being the type to sing to the baby?? i think he’s much more of a talker

never ever gets tired of her moving, can literally just picture him at night being the big spoon with his hand on your bump, his chest aches every time she kicks or moves

when she moves around on the scans you can literally see stars in his eyes

thinks you’re just the cutest when you get big, waddling around in his hoodies

keeps the latest scan photo in his wallet

your third trimester is in winter so the fireplace in your apartment is on in the evenings

lots of cuddles together

you very rarely feel insecure because jake makes it very clear just how attractive he finds you

it helps that you’re so hormonal that you’re constantly trying to jump his bones and he is… very receptive to that

the two of you decide to have a home birth, you love your apartment so much and its a place of comfort for you

also there’s no hassle or stress with transporting her home from a hospital or packing a bag etc

your labour is pretty nice, as much as it can be

you were only in labour for about 9 hours, and being at home surrounded by your familiar walls with the lights dimmed down

jake of course was incredibly supportive the whole time

ella ara sim is born 10th april at your home in seoul

jake delivered her in your bathtub, and cuts the cord

the greatest moment of his entire life

ella is a very chilled baby

feeds happily, is easily soothed

loves her daddy, jake can get her to stop crying faster than anyone

you slightly worry he holds her too much, he likes to sit by your floor to ceiling windows overlooking seoul and talk to her for hours about life and all the fun things you’ll do together when she’s older

he holds her in the early mornings in bed, on his chest or in his arms while he scrolls through his phone

these moments definitely help your relationship, when you’re both tired and drained you just sit together with or without the baby

even if you don’t talk you just have this sense that you’re in this together and you understand each other without word

Jake loves it when you’re able to pump, he loves being the one to give her bottles

ella is only the second enha baby after sam and jay is very insistent on regular playdates, he wants them to be besties so bad

they’re actually quite indifferent to each other lol

shows her off to everyone who will look

has a little silver ‘e’ necklace

when she’s about a year old she visits australia for the first time

jake fusses over her like crazy, it’s australian summer so he’s constantly smothering her with suncream and she’s got her lil bucket hat on

holds her in the pool in his family’s backyard, gently lifting her up and dunking her legs in and out of the water while she giggles like crazy

takes her to meet koalas

he loves her to be girly, thinks she’s just the cutest when she has cute little floral clothes

her giggles are his favourite sound in the whole world

purposely tickles her so that she giggles

once he tickles her for so long that she starts coughing and you get annoyed with him

doesn’t tickle her for a while after that

actually doesn’t mind playing with her, will happily sink hours into tea parties and roleplay

the BIGGEST daddy girl

her first word is dada

first steps are towards jake

jake is so fucking happy

later that night he just sobs and thanks you over and over and over for giving him his perfect baby girl

always wants to be in his arms or on his lap

jake always allows her to climb all over him and will smother her with kisses

when ella is 2 you guys finally get married, she’s one of your little bridesmaids

jake spends a lot of time dancing with her during the reception

you enjoy married life for a while, and when ella is 3, jake begins to miss her baby days

so, the two of you decide to start trying again

about 8-9 months later you’re pregnant

jake is so so excited he wants to tell el straight away but you shut him down lmao

eventually when you do tell her jake is so excited, his eyes are practically sparkling when he tells her she’s going to be a big sister

you’re pretty much bed bound and sick for the first 4-5 months, you throw up a lot

you get a lot of migraines

jake is great as usual

you and jake had talked about kids before having ella and both of you hoped for at least one of each, so when you found it it was a boy you were so happy

jake suggests his name, he just thinks its so cute

declan daehyun sim is born 1st october at your home in seoul, this time on your bed

jake also delivers him and cuts his cord

slightly more challenging baby

cries often for no real reason, no matter what you do he just cries

lots of sleepless nights

ella’s in primary school at this point so lots of daytime naps together

ella actually isn’t too jealous or anything, she comes and sits quietly next to you or jake when you’re holding declan and just watches him

she likes to hold him herself

dec is literally jake’s twin, your genes did not stand a single fucking chance

jake’s nose, jake’s eyes, jake’s mouth, jake’s hair

gets more and more clear as he grows into a toddler, everyone comments on it

i feel like jake is just as much of a boy dad as he is a girl dad like he has two sides

loves playing legos and football with dec

when dec is born you move into your ‘forever home’, a big apartment in seoul

there’s a pool in your apartment complex so you best believe most nights after dinner jake takes the kids down

when declan is around 18 months, you start throwing up and it doesn’t stop for a couple of weeks and you and jake are like… what the hell

you were on birth control that didn’t give you periods so you didn’t think it would be pregnancy but alas…

you go to the doctor and you’re 5 months pregnant and you had no idea

bit of a shock of course

you don’t know how to react at first

like dec is still so young, your birth control had clearly failed, you only had 4 months to prepare

but there obviously isn’t much you can really do other than just start gearing up for your baby’s arrival

you get a bump and some symptoms soon after you find out

pregnancy starts kicking your ass during the third trimester though, doesn’t help you’re running after declan all day

jake of course is the best like you don’t even need to say anything, if you’re having a hard day he can just tell and will do anything to alleviate your stress

like if declan is being a lil shit and you’re stressed jake will seamlessly distract him with something else

weirdly good at convincing declan he needs a nap

you decide to keep the gender a surprise because you know this will definitely be your last one and you’ve had enough surprises yk

eve sim was born at your home 8th september

born on your bed

jake delivers her and cuts the cord

you’re both ecstatic with another girl, she’s the double of ella as a baby

you don’t give her a name until she’s a couple of days old, jake starts calling her evie cause he thinks it sounds cute, you decide on eve cause it works in korean too

ella loves eve, she’s so excited to have a sister

declan is not so sure

he’s a bit jealous, especially since he’s still a little baby himself

is a little bratty about it too

you’ll sit down to feed eve and he’ll come up to you and start whining and tugging on your pants

cue jake waltzing in to distract him

i don’t think jake would be very strict

he is very much their friend and ally and they know that

hates punishments and discipline, i mean he’ll dish it out but really struggles to stay strong when they cry or get upset

will apologise for having to do it afterwards

i don’t think he would be a very pushy parent, wouldn’t be too strict about grades or extra curriculars, but will support them in whatever it is

the kids go to swimming lessons, but jake loves to help them in your pool at home, it reminds him of his childhood in Australia

definitely the type to just launch them in the air much to your horror

loves it when the kids come to see a concert, just the knowledge that the kids are in the crowd gives him a little extra energy

engene posting on twitter that jake looks so happy

everything is all about the kids backstage, if they’re there then jake and the members are smothering them in attention

if he goes on your without them he always comes back with toys

accidentally starts a tradition of buying a teddy in each place he goes

when you pick them up from school their plaits and ponytails and what have you obviously fell out hours ago

eve and ruby are a few months apart in age so they are besties of course

jake would absolutely say the worst part of being a father is the kids growing up, when they get too big for him to hold and cuddle properly is when his heart hurts when he looks at them

he loves babies so much and always always misses the baby days but seeing his kids grow into independent, strong willed, talented individuals makes him so proud

they’re always his baby girls/boy

even when they’re older he will still give them cuddles when they’re sad

the kids go to australia maybe once a year or every other year, visit jake’s family

but you settle in a big apartment in seoul

kids speak a mix of english and korean at home, there’s no real pattern to it

they speak english amongst each other but i think with jake they mix it up

they also use mainly english names at home, you and jake like them more

they use korean and korean names pretty much anywhere outside the house

although ella does get called el by the members and jake pretty much at all times

overall the sim family is so so so full of love <3

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beforetimes · 4 months ago

Note

For!!!!! The role reversal!!!! Falling into the endless abyss!!!!!!

That would be so cool and sexy if you aaaaaaaa

[link to og au]

Screams paint a backdrop for Shen Yuan’s heart pounding like a drum against his rib cage, blending together seamlessly with the blaring sirens of the System striking him with reminder after reminder of his fate. As though he was ever under any illusions that he would skirt by this—Ha! No, Shen Yuan knew better than to hope, and had fallen into this world reminding himself of that fact.

It's just so much harder to remember, he thinks now, staring at Luo Binghe wearing a look of betrayal on his face while demonic qi pours from his veins, fingers, teeth, sneaking out from under his eyelids, as though bursting from the seams now that the dam was removed. Horror is an ice pick through his chest, white hot and burning even as Shen Yuan's insides freeze.

"Shizun," Shen Yuan says, desperate, even after trying to tell himself years earlier that should this time come, he'll stay so calm and collected that no one would believe him to be behind the attack. "Shizun, please."

"A demon," Luo Binghe says, before saying nothing more at all. Shen Yuan can't help it—his legs tremble, hands shaking violently as the System blares in the corner of his vision. He can feel the heat of the gorge behind his back, sweltering and unknown. Terrifying. Shen Yuan swallows another desperate keen as he reaches out for Luo Binghe.

"Please," He says again, like a broken record skipping over and over, needle unable to find a well-worn groove to anchor itself in before jumping over to the next. Replacing him.

"Everyone will think you led the demons here," Luo Binghe notes, almost absently, as if he's very far away from everything and everyone. Watching through a screen and sounding the way he did in those first few weeks when Shen Yuan woke up in this new stolen body of his, long pale fingers pinching at the meat of his skin hard enough to leave a bruise.

"I didn't—! Shizun—"

Shen Yuan falls to his knees, terror and grief and heartache and everything else that twists his insides until it feels like his ribs are trying to claw their way out of his chest leaving him unable to stand.

He grabs on his Shizun's robes, dirtied at the bottom where Luo Binghe's been scouring the forest for disciples in trouble.

Disciples he thinks I hurt, Shen Yuan thinks, and he shakes and shakes and shakes apart.

"I wouldn't," Shen Yuan chokes out, even as the System's alarms grow louder. He feels like a five year old again, hiding in his room while his parents fought, just a line of heat pressed against his sister. "I wouldn't, I wouldn't, please."

"You've been so nervous lately," Luo Binghe says quietly, even as his hand lands on top of Shen Yuan's head in a well-practiced motion. He's so numb that he can barely feel it, Shen Yuan only hearing the accusation as he scrambles back, terror pushing adrenaline into his system in a blink.

"Shizun, please, I would never—No, you don't understand—" He pleads, and everything falls apart.

"Shen Yuan," Luo Binghe cuts him off, and Shen Yuan falls silent immediately. As though he's still a fifteen-year-old, star-struck with bright eyes, not nineteen and facing a death sentence. "What is there to explain?"

He asks, and it's not angry. It's so simple that it knocks all the righteous desperation out of Shen Yuan, lightning bolt through the chest.

He knows his role here—get pushed into the abyss or die—and the System has never once yielded in its strict composure.

Shen Yuan looks behind him, and sees fire and hatred spat from the crevice in the Earth. He looks forward and sees Luo Binghe's stepped closer, sword in hand and pointed toward Shen Yuan. And he has to take a breath to remind himself that this is the plot, this is how things need to be so he doesn't die.

"This disciple only ever wanted to help you," Shen Yuan croaks, even as the winds pick up and threaten to swallow his words. He closes his eyes and wipes violently at the space under them with his sleeves, replaced immediately with more tears, unending in their sorrow. "For Shizun, I would've done anything."

"Even bring danger to the sect?" Luo Binghe asks, before blinking in surprise, as if he hadn't meant to say it. Shen Yuan falls silent. Faltering and slow.

He takes a step back, and Luo Binghe's eyes widen.

"Shen Yuan—"

"Shizun," Shen Yuan interrupts this time. "This one is sorry. Shizun can stay angry with this filthy one as long as he desires but—but. Let me leave. Let me leave, and I'll never come back, I'll never bother Cang Qiong. I'll live far away, locked away in my room so Shizun doesn't have to risk seeing this one, just—Please forgive me one day, just let me leave, please let me—"

"You can't leave," Luo Binghe snaps, angriest he's been since the abyss cracked alongside Shen Yuan's seal. Fear tastes like blood in the back of his throat and a cheek bitten raw, and he finally lets himself sob.

A moment later, the edge of the abyss crumbles under Shen Yuan's feet, and he plummets into darkness.

masterpost

#svsss #svsss au #scum villain #scum villain au #scum villain's self saving system #luo binghe #shen yuan #shen qingqiu #eternal abyss #shizun luo binghe #disciple shen yuan #milez asks!#milez writing #when i eventually write this in full on ao3 it will be not dogshit and it won't be done at 5am #milez's role swap au

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rosenclaws · 2 months ago

Note

Alright Rose, can I ask for my own Logan head cannon?

How each Logan would act to the news that you’re pregnant and when they meet your baby for the first time.

hi Lub!! I got this as an anon ask too so I'll combine them into these headcanons

Origins Logan -

Oh man he'd need to sit the fuck down for a second. He'd be worried first and happy second. Don't get me wrong he's not going to leave or anything but Logan has lived a very long life up to this point, about 100 years or more. I think this is the case for most Logan's but the first thing his mind goes to is his mutation. Will he pass it on? He knows what it's like to live with a mutation. How hard it can be. So he's scared. Plus the threat of stryker looms over his head. He'd do anything to protect you and his now unborn child. He's there every step of the way but the worries never leave his mind.

The protectiveness gets ramped up to 11 once your child is actually born. Oh man he's just melting. Holding them in his arms and watching for a long time. You're fast asleep and it's just him and his baby. He doesn't really speak, literally just watching your baby breathe. He makes a promise to himself that he won't let anything happen. Ever.

(Oh man side note this reminds me of a fic idea I had where Logan goes with Stryker and leaves the you and his child to protect you with every intention of coming back just to lose his memories and disappear for 15 years only to regain them and then search for you guys.)

Trilogy Logan -

He thinks you're joking at first. Cracking a smile and telling you that you really got him. Then he sees your face and he realizes you aren't joking and things become serious real quick. Look I know Logan is great with kids and he won’t admit it but I don’t know if ever wants his own because he is unsure if he wants to bring a possible mutant child into a world that hates your kind. He hugs you and maybe a cracks a joke but deep down he’s afraid.

Its late into the night. You’re fast asleep and he’s sitting outside nursing a root beer. He hears footsteps and thinks that they’re yours but then he catches a whiff of a different scent. It’s Marie. He doesnt do heart to hearts but he spills some of what’s going on. I think that Marie would be the best person to reassure him. I mean she was a kid when he found her and whether or not he wants to admit it he was there for her. Made her feels safe.

The day he actually gets to hold his child is where all those fears melt away and get replaced by new ones. Like what happens if his kid gets hurt or what if he accidentally drops them? What if he fucks up? Oh man its terrifying but he can’t help but smile when he hears the little baby noises his kid is making. He also shows them off like crazy. Smirking as he brags about them to anyone who would listen.

DOFP Logan -

Now just like trilogy logan he thinks you’re joking. His reaction is a little different. He’s hesitant to bring a child into the world but I think he’d be a little more open to it. He never dreamed about being a dad but shit it happened and well, he’s getting older and he doesn’t hate the idea lf raising a child with you. He jokes that the best case is your kid gets 99% of you and 1% of him. That 1% being his shining personality of course. A part of him hopes that your kid isn’t a mutant. He doesn’t know how the whole x gene thing works but keeping his kid out of this world is better even if things aren't as bad as he remembers.

He’s so protective when your kid is born. Oh my good luck to those doctors who try to get within 5 feet of his kid or you. He says he’s a new dad but his students would beg to differ. He’s got years of practice under his belt now. He holds them close and promises to be there for the rest of their fucking life. You don’t appreciate the swearing but still.

Old Man Logan -

I think he has the worst reaction of all of them. By worse I mean he just doesn’t react well. He’s not happy and celebrating as much as you wanted him to be. Realistically you knew it was going to be a tough announcement. I mean Logan isn’t built to be a dad and with Laura. He’s overwhelmed trying to make ends meet now. He’s not a good father. At least thats what he thinks. Laura would beg to differ. He has a temper and he’s drunk and gets mean but he she feels safe and protected by him. He saved her. You both did. Logan is terrified of this big change because things are fine so why add something that had the potential to disrupt everything? And man did your new baby disrupt everything. But not in a bad way. Logan is a fucking mess the whole time. He panics every other day about this and you tell him to knock it off because if anyone should be panicking it's you. To which he says fuck no that could hurt the baby (he read it in some parenting magazine he might have stole from a gas station). Theres a natural instinct to protect deep in him and when your baby is born his whole world just shatters. This small innocent little. thing. It’s his child. He has two kids. He has a family. I think he cries. Not when anyone can see or hear him. But he sheds a few tears. Wondering what he could have done to deserve this. If his sins have finally been repaid. His old grinch heart grew three sizes, just enough to fit you, Laura, and his new baby in there.

Worst Logan -

He reacts a lot like Old man logan. Fear that turns to anger. I wrote something like this but the idea of having his own child is fucking terrifying. He believes that he was never meant for the family life. Even with Laura, that was the other him. He and Laura get along but this is a whole other thing. This is a newborn baby. A child that he will look after and take care of for the rest of his life.

I think his instincts kick in and he runs. Not for long. He doesn’t actually go far. Just down stairs to Laura’s apartment. She chews him out for leaving you alone and threatens to stick her claws into him and drag him back upstairs. But she does understand. Just a little. Logan spills his insecurity and to his bewilderment she just agrees. “Yeah you are old and you are mean and you drink way too fucking much” she would tell him. But she tells him that hes an idiot to think he won’t be good for this. If he’s waiting for the day he’s the perfect father then he’s going to be waiting forever. Logan is far from perfect but deep down, he’s a good man. A man who has a second chance laid in front of him on a silver platter. So fucking take it.

The day his baby is born is when he just. It feels like everything clicks. Its funny really, watching him hold her for the first time. He keeps looking back at you to make sure he’s not doing anything wrong. She cries and Logan feels this gut punch. A horrible twisting just knowing his baby is upset. As you sleep he holds her. Whispering promises of being the man you both deserve.

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett headcanon

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caelesjjk · 2 years ago

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simply meant to be | jjk

☾ Title: Simply Meant to Be ☾ Pairing: pumpkin king!jungkook x fem reader ☾ Genre/AU: nightmare before Christmas au, romance, horror, smut ☾ Rating: m (18+) ☾ WC: 4.6K ☾ Warnings: this is not your average nightmare before christmas, its pretty dark and unhinged. jungkook is jack skellington. reader is somewhat of a sally character. jungkook calls you immortelle (it means everlasting), jungkook has face tattoos (you'll see), monsters, fear, seokjin appearing as Dr. Finkelstein hehe, electrocution therapy, being held against will, jungkook unalives someone, a game of cat and mouse, mentions of blood, smut in the forms of: kissing, grinding, fingering, unprotected sex, knife play, blood play, creampie ☾ Summary: you aren’t sure how any of it can be real. This place…these creatures…this man. You wake up next to a man you’ve never seen before with no memory of who he is or where you are. But everyone in town seems to know you. You belong to the Pumpkin King. Scared and utterly terrified you run into someone who claims they can help you remember. And now you’re starting to wonder if that’s truly what you want. ☾ Authors Note: hello darklings! Please enjoy my trick for the Fantasy and Fangs halloween collab! this fic became so much more unhinged than i originally planned lol. it may not be for everyone! just e sure to check my warnings before you proceed with the fic. this is heavily unedited.

Your body jolts upright, lungs immediately gasping for breath.

Panic surges through every nerve as you frantically look around at your surroundings and grasping at the thin sheet you find bunched around your hips.

You’re naked. God why are you naked? How did you get here? Where the fuck are you?

Your heart pounds in your chest as you look next to you in bed and see that someone is lying next to you. A broad back and muscular arms covered in tattoos leading up to a head of messy black hair that covers the persons face lies snoring quietly against the sheets.

“Shit.” You mumble, wrapping the thin sheet around your body as you scramble out of the bed. The man lying in the bed stirs slightly and reaches into the space where your body once was.

You don’t wait to see anything else, dashing for the bedroom door and stumbling into the very dark hallway. The only light comes from the cobweb covered candle sconces that line the black painted walls.

You adjust the sheet around you the best you can before taking off running down the hallway. There is an immediate feeling that you’re being watched and you make the mistake of turning around to look behind you.

The dark shadowy silhouette of a man stands where you had just been a moment ago. You beg your feet to move faster.

Before you reach the top of the stairs, you glance back over your shoulder once more to see what you can only describe as a jack o lantern grin light up and stretch across the face of the man taking his time moving towards to you down the hallway.

“Where are you going, immortelle?”

A voice comes into your mind and almost causes you to fall face first down the winding spiral staircase in front of you.

“Please leave me alone.” You beg as you rush down the stairs. You don’t make it far before you suddenly feel hands gripping at your ankles. Hands with claws….some covered with slime…reaching from under the stairs and tearing at the sheet keeping your naked body from being exposed.

You scream until your throat hurts. Kicking at the hands as you continue to fight your way down the stairs.

“You know how much I love chasing you, baby.”

Somehow you manage to make it to the bottom of the stairs, but you almost wish that you hadn’t when you fall against the front door and throw it open.

You must be hallucinating with fear.

Outside the sky is black and grey swirls of clouds in constant motion, you know if you stared too long you’d become dizzy. Instead, your eyes wonder around to the bare trees surrounding the house you just made your way out of. Just a few leaves hang on for dear life as the wind quite literally howls through the air.

Down the crooked stone steps in front of you is a huge iron gate with two giant pumpkin designs bent into the bars. Gargoyles sit atop every stone post surrounding the house.

Wasting no more time, you descend the stairs until you’ve reached the iron gate, shaking the bars when it doesn’t budge.

“Please open. Please.” You shove with your shoulder as hard as you can and the gate loudly creaks open just enough for you to squeeze out into the open street.

You turn around and shove the gate back shut, looking up at the top of the stairs where the man who had been chasing you through the house now stands with a smile on his half tattooed face and his arms crossed over his bulky bare chest.

You can see even from here that the tattoos on the left side of his face are skull like features. It’s absolutely terrifying.

He lifts a hand in a wave as he menacingly tilts his head to the side and smiles.

Fuck this.

You wrap the blanket tighter around you and take off down the street without a single clue as to where you are. Anywhere has to be better than where you just were.

You spoke too soon again.

The sight in front of you as you round the corner is just as terrifying as that house and that man.

There are monsters, literal monsters, standing in the streets. Selling items at market booths. Chasing their children on the sidewalks. Laughter…and screams. It’s a terrible mix of sounds.

You freeze as a bouncy ball belonging to what you can only assume is a swamp monster child rolls against your feet.

“Happy first day after Halloween Ms Y/N!” The little creature says, staring at you expectantly.

Your instincts tell you not to scream. If you scream it will only make things worse.

“You know my name?” Your voice shakes and so do your hands as you continue holding the blanket around your body.

“Are you alright, miss?” The child’s mother appears behind him, looking at you with concern.

“I um…I should go.” Your bare feet move to cross the street, making you pause when you step in something wet. You know that it’s blood before you even look down. Vomit threatens to fill your mouth but you continue walking away, dragging the train of the sheet you’re wearing through more of the bloody streets.

More monsters stare at you as you go. Some with long sharp teeth and claws that could easily slice through a normal humans delicate skin. Some walked on two feet and some slithered across the ground like sickly serpents.

“Are you lost?” A horrifying witch grabbed your arm and tried to pull you back into the street.

“No, no I’m just on my way somewhere.” You lie the best you can, yanking your arm away only to immediately see deeps scratches from her long nails.

“So sorry miss.” She cackles, moving to join two other witches who were waiting for her on the other side of the street. They all continued their uneasy laughing until you turned the corner up ahead.

As you turned the corner you ran hard into something. Or someone it would appear when you looked up.

“What are you doing out here in nothing but a blanket, Y/N?” The man asks, pushing a pair of glasses up onto his nose.

This man had stitches across his forehead and down around his neck. Like some kind of Frankenstein’s monster, he’s been sewn together.

“Do I know you? Why does everyone here know my name?” You step back to put space between you and the monster.

“Ah, I see. Come with me.” He turns and begins walking but stops when you don’t follow. “I can help you. Come.” He holds out a hand, and while you don’t know what the fuck is happening, something tells you it’s okay to trust this stranger.

You take his hand.

“Who are you?” You finally ask.

“I’m a friend. Dr. Kim Seokjin.” He swings your hands between you in a silly way. “You usually call me Jin. Sometimes Jinnie.”

“Jin.” You repeat, the name feeling familiar on your tongue. “Where are we going?”

“To my lab. I have things that can help you there.” Jin turns another corner and up ahead you can see a tall crooked tower looming in the distance.

“Your lab is in there?”

“It is. Don’t worry Y/N, I promise you’re safe with me.”

You swallow hard but continue to let Jin lead you inside the tower and up, up, up the long spiraling stairs until you reach a door that he slides open.

Inside is a room filled with equipment and various experiments. Glass beakers filled with colorful liquid bubble and burble over small open flames. Sparks fly from wires that connect to different machines and some that connect to nothing at all. There are also several control panels at the center of the room with gurneys situated next to them.

“What kind of doctor are you, Jin?” Your voice shakes a little.

“The helpful kind.” He answers with a menacing grin on his face and a flicker of something slightly insane in his eyes.

“Wh-what do you have here that can help me?” You look down at the dirty blanket still wrapped around your body.

“First,” he grabs your hand again and leads you to a side room that has a cot with some folded clothes lying on top of it, “you can use those clothes to change into, okay? Whatever you want.”

“Thank you.” You step into the small room and turn to face him. “Is something really wrong with me? Something that makes me not remember?”

“Everything is fixable. I’ll have you as good as new in no time.” Jin winks and closes the door behind him so that you can change in private.

You dress in a daze, still feeling very off kilter from everything that’s unfolded from the moment you opened your eyes. Flashes of the man you woke up next too and his terrifying tattooed face race across your memory and leave chills over your skin.

“Ready now?” Jin calls from outside the door. You take a deep breath and walk back out into the laboratory. “Why don’t you take a seat on one of those?” He motions to the gurneys at the center of the room.

Reluctantly, you walk over to them and sit on the thin mattress. It crumples under your weight and immediately sends a sense of dread swimming into your veins.

“How can you fix me?” You barely get the sentence out before Jin is next to you, situating your arms at your sides and wrapping leather straps around your wrists. “What are you doing?” Panic thick in your voice.

“This is how we fix you. Bite this.” He puts a leather strap up to your mouth.

“Are you crazy?! I’m not doing this. Let me go!” You pull against the restraints, thrashing your head and body in an attempt to get the fuck away.

“I know it’s a little frightening. You do this every time. One of your only flaws.” Jin shakes his head, sounding disappointing.

“Flaws? What are you talking about!?”

“You’re my creation. I made you.” He tilts his head and smiles, “and you’re absolutely perfect except for that mind of yours. It resets. Forgets.” He shrugs his shoulders.

“Creation?! I’m a human being! I’m not some experiment! What is wrong with you?” Hot tears starts to leak from the corners of your eyes and blur your vision.

“You’re so adorable sometimes.” Jin yanks on your restraints to tighten them, “sit still, Y/N.”

“You’re hurting me.” You whimper.

“You think that hurts?” Jin smiles before he begins sticking sticky pads to your head and neck. “Just wait.” He whispers into your ear.

You’re such an idiot to have trusted this monster. You were so sure that he was good. A friend. He felt like a friend when you saw him. Familiar.

“Please…don’t.” You beg just before he forcefully shoves the piece of leather between your teeth.

“You’ll thank me soon.”

Terror freezes your body as you watch him slam down a lever on one of the control tables, green electric waves traveling down the wires and entering your body in trembling shocks.

You don’t know how long you lay there, screaming through the pain before you pass out from how much electricity Jin lets pass into your body. But eventually the room goes black and the last thing you hear is Jin manically laughing from across the room.

“It’s getting worse.”

“I tweaked some things this time. I’m hopeful it lasts longer.”

“It better. I’m tired of losing her.”

You hear quiet voices as you begin to come to. Voices that you recognize almost immediately.

“Jungkook?” Your voice croaks. Almost immediately the door to the small room slides open and the silhouette of the only person you want to see fills the doorway.

“You’re okay, immortelle?” Jungkook rushes into the room and kneels next to the cot you’re laying on.

“What happened to me? Why am I in Jinnie’s lab?” You turn your head to face him when he cups your cheeks in his hands.

“You had another episode, my sweet.” He brings your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles one by one.

“Episode?” Your brows draw together in confusion.

“You forgot who you were. That you belong to me. You forgot it all.” Jungkook looks sad while he explains and it breaks your heart.

“How could I forget you?” You sit up slowly and he helps you. “How could I forget my love?”

“It’s not your fault, immortelle. Don’t blame yourself.” Jungkook looks over his shoulder at Jin who stands in the doorway. Jin rolls his eyes before walking away.

“Take me home?” You ask, wrapping your arms around Jungkook’s neck when he picks you up into his arms bridal style.

“Of course.”

Jungkook carries you down the long winding staircase of the laboratory and outside where it’s pitch black besides the white melting candles inside the lamp posts along the street.

A smile pulls across your face when you see all the monsters that you love busy in the streets. They all smile back at you, tossing greetings and wishes of quick recoveries your way.

“They love you.” Jungkook whispers into your ear.

“No. They love you, you’re their pumpkin king. I’m just lucky enough to be yours.” You touch the skull details tattooed on the side of his face so he looks at you.

“You’ll be their queen soon.” He reminds you. You lean up to kiss his lips.

“Let’s get something to eat before we go home. I’m famished.” Jungkook sits you on your feet but keeps your hand in his.

Jungkook talks with some of the shop owners and you watch as he gathers all of your favorite things into a basket. Wines, cheeses, and some sweet treats leftover from the night before. You love him so.

You make your way over to a stand selling haunted dolls and look around at all the choices. You’re about to go back to find Jungkook when someone grabs your arm and twists you around.

“You’re so pretty.” The drunken vampire says, the smell of blood thick on his breath. He’s had too much.

“I appreciate your compliment, but I need you to let go of my arm.” You pull away but he doesn’t let go.

“Don’t be that way. Come with me.” He stumbles and almost falls on top of you.

“Get off of me!” You say louder but the vampire doesn’t listen, it’s nails scratching through your skin. You’re about to scream for Jungkook when he’s suddenly there, ripping the vampires hand from your arm.

“May I ask what you think you’re doing? Touching what’s mine?” Jungkook says too calmly.

“I…I didn’t recognize Ms. Y/N…I didn’t realize.” The vampire stumbles over his words.

“Is that your excuse?” Jungkook laughs, the terrifying cackling sound sending tingles through your body.

You know what’s going to happen next, and the thrill alone has you aching between your legs.

“I’m sorry, I’ll never make the mistake again.” The vampire takes a few steps back.

“Immortelle?” Jungkook looks over his shoulder to you. He’s asking a silent question that you already know the answer to. You nod yes as a smile spreads across your face.

“Remember in your next life my friend, to keep your filthy hands off my girl.” Before you can blink his hand is shooting out between them and into the vampires chest cavity. He holds it there a moment so that he can watch the life drain slowly drain from the vampire before he yanks his hand back out holding the still thumping heart in his hand.

The vampire falls to the ground in a lifeless heep, his eyes still open and eternally full of the fear he last experienced. The crowd around the market doesn’t take offense, they know if their pumpkin kills someone it was for a damn good reason.

Jungkook turns towards you, handing the heart to one of the children playing with the body on the ground. He pats their head and then slowly brings his hand up to his mouth, licking a thick stripe from the bloody palm of his hand to the tip of his middle finger, all while keeping eye contact with you.

You smile, closing the space between the two of you and claiming his mouth. Your tongue seeks out the blood that’s dropped down his chin and around his lips.

“It never gets old…watching you kill for me.” You breathe into his mouth while his blood hands lace into the strands of your hair.

“We need to get home before I show everyone here how well I fuck you.” His mouth leaves hot kisses against your neck as he leads you backwards down the street until your back hits the iron bars of a familiar gate.

Home.

The gate loudly creaks open as soon as it realizes the two of you have arrived. Jungkook stops kissing you to take your hand and walks with you up the stone stairs to the front door that also opens all on its own, the door knocker welcoming you home.

“Do you want to play?” You whisper, making Jungkook pause at the bottom of the stairs. Those tattooed details raising into a smile.

“Okay, immortelle. Let’s play.” He kisses the top of your hand before taking a step back. He slowly slips of his black and white striped suit jacket and unbuttons his shirt before it joins the jacket on the floor.

You soak in the tattooed planes of his body, the muscles begging to be touched. His dark falling over his forehead as he steps back farther into the shadows until he’s completely disappeared from your sight.

“You know what happens if I catch you, immortelle.” His voice floats into your ear from somewhere unknown. “Don’t let me catch you.”

A thrill shoots through your body again and you sprint for the stairs, loving the way the monsters and ghouls grab at your ankles and whisper your name. You immediately turn left at the top of the stairs, your mind going a million miles an hour trying to think of where you could hide.

He knows all of the good places for hiding.

In a last ditch idea, you run into your shared bedroom upon hearing Jungkook’s footsteps running up the stairs. He took this game of chase so seriously and never took it slowly.

You slide under the bed, your chest heaving in fear but also excitement. You’re hoping by hiding somewhere obvious that he won’t even think to look here and waste his time checking all of the usual spots you tend to hide.

“Where are you, immortelle?” You hear his menacing voice out in the hallway coming closer. You almost giggle. “You know I’ll find you. I will always find you.”

You hear his footsteps stop outside the bedroom door and then the door slowly opens right after, lightly hitting against the wall behind it.

Jungkook’s heavy footsteps make the floorboards creak as he walks into the room. You throw a hand over your mouth to keep from making any noises. Jungkook undoes the buckle of his belt and a moment later slips it from his belt loops and lets it clang against the hardwood floor.

“Are you soaked for me right now, my love?” You watch with wide eyes as Jungkook slowly walks around the bed. “I’ll find out soon enough.”

He doesn’t say anything else and when you look around at the floor you notice that he’s no longer next to the bed, his black boots no longer anywhere in sight. You release a long breath of relief.

And then you’re being yanked by the ankle from beneath the bed, a startled scream escaping you as you flip onto your back just in time to see Jungkook trap you with his body against the floor.

“You caught me.” You smile, lifting your hips up to meet his, desperate for friction against your core.

“Don’t I always?” His mouth is on yours, his hands pushing your dress up around your hips.

He was desperate for you too.

“I love you.” You whisper on his lips, the tattooed skeleton grin on his beautiful face turning upwards.

Jungkook sits up on his knees between your legs giving you a full view of his naked torso. Pretty muscles and flawless skin that you ached to leave your mark on. Scratches and bite marks and bruises were the only things that could make him more perfect.

Your chest heaves as you watch him reach behind his back in the band of his black dress pants to retrieve a silver shiny knife. Your pulse quickens immediately.

“Is this what you want, immortelle?” He presses the cold steel flat against the inside of your thigh, keeping the blade from cutting you just yet.

“Will you torture me?” You ask, your hands coming up to cup your breasts with anticipation.

“Absolutely.” Jungkook moves the knife farther up your skin until the point brushes over underwear. You moan pathetically at the feel of it brushing over your center and slowly sliding over onto your other thigh.

“Jungkook…” you sigh.

“Be patient. I’ll give you what you want.” Jungkook uses his other hand to undo the button and zipper of his pants, pushing them down until his perfect cock springs free from the confines.

You bite your lip at the sight in front of you. Jungkook slowly strokes himself to the sight of the knife moving across your skin. He draws the sharp side of the blade oh so gently across your stomach, so sharp you don’t even feel it draw blood. The view of you on display for him makes him groan and move his hand a bit rougher up and down his shaft.

Your fingers move on their own accord, slipping through the small pool of blood on your stomach and moving them back over your breasts to smear the crimson liquid in a trail.

“Fuck. Fuck you’re so perfect.” Jungkook moves the knife to your throat, gently leaving one long cut from one side to the other. You immediately feel warm blood leave the wound and drip down the sides of your neck.

Jungkook drops the knife to the floor and bends over your body to attach his mouth to your neck. He licks and sucks at your blood, whimpering at the taste of it on his tongue. Your body instinctively arches from the ground, your chest rubbing against his and spreading more of your blood between your bodies. It was the most beautiful visual you could imagine.

You looked down between your bodies to see Jungkook’s hand still stroking his cock as he continues to move his mouth down your body to the cut on your stomach. You can barely stand the burn in the pit of your stomach any longer, your desire for the man on top of you smoldering too hot.

“I need you now. Please.” You lace your hands into Jungkook’s hair and lift his face. The sight of his face covered in your blood, his eyes solid black with lust almost does you in completely.

“Such a good girl, saying please.” He moves back onto his knees, squeezing precum from the head of his cock before he releases it completely and picks the knife back up off the floor. You watch in awe as he brings it to his mouth and licks the blood from the blade.

“I always want to be good for you.” You say sweetly. His cock twitches at the sound of your obedient voice.

Jungkook moves the knife down between your legs and ever so carefully pressed the sharp blade to your underwear and drags it down until the fabric slices apart and reveals your absolutely drenched pussy to him. The knife clangs to the floor again and Jungkook leans back down to claim your mouth, his thumb immediately finding your clit.

Your lips part to moan and his tongue swipes against yours swallowing up all the sounds that escape you. The dripping head of his cock suddenly swipes through your folds and causes a high pitched whine to bubble up your throat.

“Is your pussy desperate to be filled, immortelle?” His hand swipes the blood on your stomach before it’s back on his cock, the blood lubing his shaft to make it easier when he fucks himself into you.

“Yes. It hurts, Jungkook.” You let your hands wander his chest and stomach, watching him watch you.

“I’m not going to last long once I get inside your perfect pussy, my love. But I need you to cum and I need you to scream.” Without warning he roughly spears himself inside you, his hands holding you on his cock as you writhe from the sudden intrusion.

“Oh my fucking god.” Your eyes roll to the back of your head when he starts to move, rough and hard.

“Made for me. I literally had you made just for me and you’re perfect. So fucking perfect and pliant just for me.” Jungkook’s hand comes down to your throat, careful of the cut across your skin, he gently tightens his grip.

You immediately see stars, wrapping both of your hands around his wrist to keep him in place. You gasp and moan at the feeling of him controlling your breathing and ruining your pussy at the same time.

“I’m going to come. God I’m coming right now.” The words are quiet as he continues to hold your throat but he hears you just fine, moving his hand from your throat to play with your clit.

“Scream. I need you to scream so I can fill you up.” You open your eyes to see Jungkook watching you, his hair sweaty and mouth parted. Just when you’re about to beg for a kiss he punches your clit between his fingers and your orgasm rolls through you like a hurricane.

Black and white sparks explode behind your eyes and though you can’t hear yourself, you know that you scream loud and high pitched. Just what Jungkook needs to find his own end, dropping on top of you as he continues to fill you past the brim and onto your thighs.

Dried blood scratches between your skin and his as he lies on top of you, his head against your chest and your hands roaming the expanse of his broad shoulders.

“You’re okay, immortelle?” He finally asks through his heavy breathing.

“I am, of course.” You lift his face to place a kiss to his lips.

“We didn’t even make it to the bed this time.” He laughs lightly, groaning as he pulls out and helps you sit up with him.

“I didn’t mind.” You both smile knowing he feels the same.

“I’ll never mind being with you, immortelle. Never.” He touches your cheek and kisses your lips once more.

“Even if…even if I keep forgetting?”

“Even then. We are simply meant to be, my love.”

#bts fic #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #jungkook oneshot #jjk

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