#beyond truth and error | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

imaginedisish · 10 months ago

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Dare (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Hey guys. Just wanted to say thank you for all the support I got this morning. All of your comments really warmed my heart. Thank you so, so, so much. I ended up getting this done pretty fast. Went with "Dare" by Gorillaz for the title. Made me feel better to write. I like this one. Hope you do, too. Enjoy!

Summary: Logan finds out you've never been eaten out while playing a game of "Truth or Dare," and he's more than willing to change that.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!! SMUT!!! Oral (f!receiving), Fingering, softdom!Logan, pussydrunk!Logan (he does not let up, he is starving for you), older!Logan, implied aged gap (reader is in her 20s/old enough to teach at the institute), cocky!Logan, he is an absolute service dom in this, friends to lovers, mentions of mental health/self worth, fluff, some hurt to comfort, some angst, afab/fem!reader, cursing, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 4,235 wowza didn't expect that and oh my god this gif

You’re lying on your floor—the door to your room wide open. Everyone is out anyway. It’s Friday night at the mansion—no one will see you like this. Students’ papers are scattered around you. You stare up at the ceiling, feeling choked up. It had been a bad day—a bad week. Maybe even a bad year. You feel like you’re slipping, losing yourself.

Teaching the older students had become beyond challenging—possibly because you aren’t much older than them in the first place. Most days, it felt like everyone expected greatness from you, given the strength of your powers, which naturally comes with responsibility, and that can be incredibly overwhelming. It had all been—if you were being brutally honest—an absolutely terrible time.

So, you’re lying on your floor, feeling numb. You stopped grading papers at least an hour ago, and simply decided to stare at the ceiling, your head spinning. You wanted to calm the noise, to take a breather. Luckily, you’re alone—everyone is on a mission or out given that it’s Friday night.

Or so you thought.

“What on Earth are you doing?” A familiar voice cuts through the silence like a knife, jarring you, and forcing you to look up. And there he is, in a white t-shirt and denim jeans, arms crossed tightly against his chest, leaning in the doorway. Logan. You want to roll your eyes at how good he looks. You want to slap yourself for thinking it in the first place.

He smirks at you, his brows furrowed playfully. You let your head fall back to the floor. “Grading papers,” you mutter. You can hear his footsteps as he walks into the room, drawing closer to you.

“Doesn’t look like you’re grading papers to me,” he teases. You can hear the smile in his voice. “Why aren’t you out with Jean or Rogue?”

He stands next to you, and you look up at him. “Didn’t feel like it,” you mumble, forcing yourself to sit up. You draw your knees into your chest. You decide to turn the question around on him. “Why aren’t you out?”

He sits down next to you, stretching his long legs in front of him, his shoulder bumping against yours as he settles in. He shrugs. “Somebody’s gotta keep an eye on you, right?” He jokes, nudging his elbow into your arm. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. It’s impossible to fight it when he’s next to you. Your eyes meet his, and his smile quickly turns into something else—concern. “You’ve been off lately.”

You swallow harshly. “Did Jean or Rogue say something?” You ask. They’d notice, maybe they told Logan. “Did they ask you to stay with me or something?”

But Logan shakes his head. “No. I could just tell,” he says, worry clear in his voice. “Thought I’d hang back with you. All my idea.” He tilts his head, his jaw working, his brows furrowing again. “Is something going on?”

You take a deep breath, turning away from him. You’re suddenly overwhelmed by his presence, by his kindness and his care. He stayed home for you. “I’m okay,” you mutter, avoiding the truth.

“Hey,” Logan whispers, tentatively reaching his hand to your knee, waiting for you to shove him away. His palm is warm against your skin, calming and stabilizing. You turn back to look at him, his brows raised incredulously. “I know that’s not true,” he says. He has always been able to read you like a book. “What’s going on?”

You swallow harshly. “I’ve just been having a tough time lately,” you say, distracted by the way his thumb brushes across your knee. “I…” You trail off, letting your eyes fall closed. “Things are hard.”

“You can talk about it if you want,” he says, his voice deep and steady. “I’m here.”

You sniffle, struggling to keep yourself in check. “I just…” you pause, looking off to the side. “Everything sucks.” You take another deep breath. “And the students are so hard.” You point to the piles of papers scattered around your floor. “And then there’s me, and all my shit. My powers. The responsibilities we have. I’m young, and I’m still learning. And fuck, Logan, this all just feels so impossible sometimes. It…it…” You trail off, finally running out of words, out of steam.

“It hurts.” He finishes your sentence, taking the words right out of your mouth. You turn back towards him, your eyes instantly meeting his. “It hurts a lot.”

You nod. “Yeah, exactly.” He squeezes your knee comfortingly. “You get it,” you murmur.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he soothes, his hand lifting off your knee, his arm wrapping around your shoulder instead. “I’ve got you.” You let yourself lean into his touch, resting your head in the crook of his neck. “Let’s take your mind off things, yeah?”

You nod against him, not wanting to move away, not wanting to separate from him. He feels so nice, so solid. “What did you have in mind?” You ask, hoping it doesn’t involve getting up.

“Wanna play a game?” He offers, turning his head to look down at you. You smile widely, almost mockingly. “What?” He chides. “You think I don’t know how to have fun?”

You laugh softly. “I just don’t see you as a game guy, Lo,” you confess. He chuckles, and you can feel his laughter reverberating through his chest. “Can you even think of one to play?”

Logan’s still laughing, shaking his head. “What about truth or dare?” He ever so slightly pulls you in closer, his lips pressed against the side of your head.

You giggle, feeling light for the first time in a long time. “Are we in seventh grade?” You ask teasingly. You felt like a teenager, honestly—being next to Logan always made you feel like a love-sick schoolgirl. But you know you and him could never be. You were younger than Logan—everyone was—but you, being in your 20s, assume that Logan doesn’t see you the way you see him.

He just shakes his head and laughs, pulling you back to reality. “Truth or dare?” He asks, ignoring your middle school comment and officially starting the game.

You don’t want to get up, don’t want to move an inch, so you answer: “Truth,” hoping it isn’t anything too crazy.

Logan thinks for a second, his head resting on yours. “Why’d you pick truth instead of dare?” He finally asks.

You roll your eyes. “Boring!” You tease. “I only picked it because I don’t feel like moving.” And then you realize…perhaps your answer is more revealing than you previously considered. Your heart thunders in your chest.

Logan hums. “And why don’t you want to move, exactly?” He’s onto you.

“You asked your question, you got an answer,” you protest, trying to shut him down. “No follow-up questions.” It’s your turn now. “Truth or dare?” You ask.

“Truth,” he says. “Because maybe I don’t feel like moving either.”

You smile, and you can feel him looking down at you. You’re too nervous to meet his gaze. You think for a moment, racking your brain for a question. “Did you really stay home for me, and was it all your own idea?” You finally ask. You regret the question almost immediately, fearful of the honest answer.

“Yes,” he responds without a beat. “Jean said you were staying in, and said she didn’t know why, so I stayed too.” He pauses, and you can hear his steady breathing amidst the silence. “I was worried, princess.” The pet name burns a hole through your heart. “Needed to know that you were okay.”

You can feel tears building behind your sinuses. “Thank you, Lo,” you whisper. “That means a lot.”

He presses the ghost of a kiss to the crown of your head—almost not quite there. But you can feel it, hesitant and tentative. “It’s nothing, no need to thank me.” You finally find the courage to look up at him and find him smiling down at you. His lips part. “Truth or dare?” He asks again.

You can feel some sort of tension brewing, building, thick and heavy. You try to ignore it, try to brush it off. Your heart hammers in your chest. “Truth,” you pick again. “But get a little more creative this time.”

He pauses, the gears in his head turning. And then finally: “Why’s your heart beating so fast? It’s loud, too.”

Your eyes widen, suddenly remembering Logan’s heightened senses. He can hear everything. “Uh…” You trail off, not sure how to get out of this. “I-It’s not…”

He laughs. “You’re a terrible liar. You know that?” His voice is deep and honeyed, smooth. “You gotta answer the question, or I get to ask another.”

“Those are not the rules!” You protest, lifting your head to look at him. He’s got that shit-eating grin on his face, the one that makes your stomach drop.

He tugs you into his chest again, his lips at the shell of your ear. “Then answer the question,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin, sending a chill down your spine. He’s so close. Too close. Your heart is only beating faster, louder now.

“I don’t know,” you whisper. But of course, you know. It’s all because of him. “Just anxious, I guess.” It’s a half-truth—you’re certainly nervous, but you can’t bring yourself to tell him why.

“No need to be nervous, sweetheart,” Logan coos, his thumb brushing circles into your shoulder. “It’s just me.”

Yes, exactly, you want to say. It’s you. But you don’t. You try to steady your breathing, try to calm down. “My turn,” you force yourself to say. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” he says darkly. “And make it good.” You can hear the cockiness in his voice—a sudden shift in his tone.

“We should just call this truth or truth,” you say, mulling over a question in your mind. It’s hard to think with him this close—hard to breathe. You want to rile him up, to find out what makes him tick—to make him itch the way he makes you. And then it hits you: the perfect question. “When was the last time you…” You stop yourself, suddenly too nervous to ask.

“When was the last time I what, darlin’?” He asks, cocking his head to the side, raising his eyebrows.

You huff. You’ve fallen into your own trap. There’s no backing out now. “When was the last time…” You pause again, biting your lip. You close your eyes. “…somebody got you off?”

“Been a while,” he says simply. Your eyes flutter open, and Logan is completely relaxed, his eyes trained on you. He isn’t annoyed. He’s unbothered, unprovoked, as if you had asked him what the weather was going to be like tomorrow. “But it depends on how you mean. So, what do you mean?” He finishes.

You’re slightly frustrated by how easy it was for him to answer. “I don’t know,” you mutter, shrugging your shoulders. “Whatever the last time was.”

“Few years back, not particularly proud of it,” he huffs. “Girl took care of me in a bar. That was it.”

You nod. “Must’ve been nice,” you whisper, suddenly feeling a bit disheartened. You catch his drift; you know it didn’t mean anything. You likely didn’t know Logan at that time, having only arrived at the Institute two years ago. You know you shouldn’t feel jealous, shouldn’t care that he was ever with someone else, even for a fleeting moment. You’ve had boyfriends. You’ve been with other people.

“It was fine. Just a blowjob.” He says it nonchalantly. “Didn’t mean a thing.” You look straight ahead, waiting for him to elaborate. But he doesn’t. “Truth or dare?” He finally asks.

“Truth.” Your fake, plastered-on smile becomes real when his eyes meet yours. It’s just what happens when you look at him. “And make it interesting.”

The corner of his mouth turns up slyly, and you know he has something up his sleeve. “When was the last time somebody did that to you?” He asks.

You cock your head to the side. “What do you mean?” But you already know exactly what he’s asking. And you desperately do not want to give him the answer.

“Got you off, like that,” he husks. “With their mouth.”

Fuck. “Uh…” You trail off. You can feel heat spreading across your chest and up your neck, your skin prickling. “Never,” you say honestly.

“What?” Logan’s voice cuts through the tension like a knife. “Never?”

You’re suddenly embarrassed. Your skin feels tight—so do your shorts and tank top. “Never,” you repeat, looking down at your knees, still pulled in tightly to your chest. Your heart beats rapidly. “Just hasn’t happened yet,” you choke out. “I’ve been with people, but…”

“Hey,” he whispers, suddenly grabbing your chin and angling you up to face him. “It’s okay,” he soothes. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, princess.”

You smile shyly, reveling in his touch. “You didn’t,” you insist honestly. “Just a little embarrassed.”

Logan shakes his head, his eyes softening. “Nothing to be embarrassed about,” he assures. “You deserve to be taken care of.” His hand slides across your jaw and cups the back of your neck. “Deserve to feel good.”

Your eyes flutter closed at his touch. “Lo,” you whisper, struggling to keep your composure. Heat pools between your thighs. “Tr-truth or dare.”

His forehead presses to yours. “I think we’re done with the game, pretty girl,” he rasps, the arm around your shoulder slipping down to your waist. “Unless I get to give you a dare this time.”

“What’s the dare?” You ask, your eyes fluttering back open. His lips are so close. Your noses touch softly.

He works his jaw, licking his lips. “Let me eat you out, pretty girl,” he pants, his chest heaving against yours. “Let me take care of you like you should’ve been already.” He hates the idea that you’ve never been touched properly, the idea that those younger guys didn’t know how to treat you right. But he can fix that. He can make you feel good.

“Fuck,” you curse, his breath fanning across your lips. “A-are you sure?” You ask. “I don’t want you to do it just because you feel bad for me or—” “You think that’s what this is about?” He cuts you off, pulling you closer so that your body faces his, your thighs slotting together like puzzle pieces. “You think I want this just because I feel bad for you?”

“Well…” You search his eyes. “Yes,” you say.

Logan’s face falls, and he shakes his head. “I want you, pretty girl,” he pants, his knee rubbing against your aching core. “Wanted you this whole time.” His palm presses firmly against your back, his other hand gripping your neck tighter. He wants, no, needs you closer. “You ruined me the second I saw you. Haven’t been with anyone since then.”

“Logan,” you whisper, bringing your hands up to his neck. “I want you too. Always have,” you confess.

He smiles, his lips pressing a chaste kiss to yours. “Then let me do this for you,” he rasps, almost begging, like he needs this more than you do. “Need to make you feel good, beautiful.” “Please,” you breathe. “Want you so bad, Lo.”

He curses under his breath, his lips capturing yours, harder this time. This kiss is starving, all-consuming. His tongue swipes across your lower lip, and you open your mouth, inviting him inside. He lowers you down carefully, sure not to break the kiss, guiding your back to the wood floor below.

His thighs rest on either side of your hips as he hovers over you, bracing himself with his forearm. His free hand trails up your body, exploring your curves, hiking your shirt above your breasts. He smirks against your lips at the realization that you have no bra on.

“Look at you,” he mumbles, rolling a nipple under his thumb, palming your breast. “Fucking perfect.” His fingertips drag to the other side, massaging you gently, taking your nipple between his thumb and forefinger and pinching softly. “Can smell you, you know,” he grunts. “Know you’re soaking for me, darlin’.”

His hand slides between the valley of your breasts, trailing down your stomach, until his fingertips bump into the waistband of your panties. He hesitates, looking down at you, waiting for you to change your mind, to tell him to stop. “Please,” you beg. “Need you, Lo.”

Logan smirks, his hand slipping under the hem of your shorts and inside your panties. “Love it when you call me that, sweetheart,” he groans. His fingertips flick your clit gently before finding your folds, feeling your arousal. “Barely even touched you,” he tuts. “And she’s already crying for me.”

He prods your entrance, spreading your slick, teasing you. He bites your lips, sucking so hard he might bruise—might draw blood—and you hope he does. You want proof that he was here, proof that he wants you—needs you this badly. You moan as his fingers find your clit again, drawing a few soft circles before pulling away, his hand slipping out of your shorts.

You grab his biceps needily, impatiently, your nails digging into his skin. “Don’t stop,” you cry out. “Please, Logan.”

He swallows your moans with another kiss, his lips trailing down to your jaw, then your neck—that sensitive spot just under your ear. “Don’t worry, pretty girl,” he soothes, biting down on your pulse point, licking the hollow of your throat. “Don’t think I could stop if I tried.” He nips at your collarbone, shoving your tank top further up your chest as his lips drag down the valley of your breasts.

He kisses his way to your stomach, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down your legs. His palms spread across your inner thighs, yanking them apart. He settles between them, his face just inches from your heat. He presses a chaste kiss to your clit, still all too clothed, hidden behind your panties.

“Lo,” you whine. He breathes you in, pressing another kiss to your clit. He digs his fingers into the hem of your panties, slowly pulling them down your legs.

“Wanna take my time with you, sweetheart,” he grunts, finally throwing your panties to the side. He spreads your legs wider, his face settling back between your thighs. You can feel his breath against your cunt, warm and teasing. “Wanna take care of you.” His lips finally find your clit again, and he licks at you.

His tongue is soft, warm, wet. He laps at you again, harder this time, and you moan his name. “Fuck,” you curse as he licks a long stripe through your folds and back up to your clit, flicking the bud. Your legs twitch, your hips backing away involuntarily at the newfound pleasure. Logan’s hands slide under your ass, yanking you back to his face.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He mumbles teasingly against you, the vibration of his deep, bassy voice rocking your core. “Not letting you go until I’m done with you, darlin’.”

You curse under your breath as he licks another long, slow stripe through your folds before settling on your clit. His tongue draws gentle circles around the bud, and you can’t hold back the loud moan that falls from your lips.

“Yeah?” Logan husks between laps. “Feels good, pretty girl?”

“Y-yes,” you stammer, looking down at Logan, his face buried against your cunt. His eyes are trained on yours, watching your every move, taking in the way you’re squirming for him. “D-didn’t know it would feel this good, Lo.”

“Gonna try something, okay?” He says, his eyes searching yours. You nod emphatically, bracing yourself. His lips wrap around your clit, his teeth lightly grazing the bud as he pulls it into his mouth. And then he sucks, hard. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, your back arching off the floor.

He releases the bud, and does it again, sucking harder this time. Tears brim at the corners of your eyes, pleasure coursing through your veins. “Logan!” You cry out, your nails digging into the floor below, searching for purchase. “Fuck!” He laps at you soothingly, drawing tighter, faster circles around your clit.

“You okay?” He coos between laps, his tongue swirling rapidly.

You swallow, meeting his gaze again. The sight of him between your legs, working your clit, his hair a disheveled mess—it’s overwhelming. “Yeah,” you heave. “More than okay.”

He smirks against you and wraps his lips around your clit again, sucking on the bud like hard candy. His right hand slides out from under your ass, trailing up your inner thigh. Your heart thunders in your chest as his fingertips find your folds, spreading your slick, your walls clenching down around nothing.

“Know you need ‘em, pretty girl,” Logan croons, two fingers nudging your entrance. “Beg for it.”

But he’s sucking on your clit again, making it impossible to say a word. You whimper, your legs trembling. “P-please,” you stutter, choking on air. “Need…” You trail off, your eyes fluttering closed. You swallow harshly. “Need your fingers, Lo,” you finally manage.

“That’s a good girl,” he praises, shoving two fingers deep inside you, down to his knuckles.

“Fuck, thank you,” you whine, moaning his name as his fingers stretch you out. You suddenly feel so full, so warm, so close. He pulls out, only to plunge back in, deeper this time. He’s lapping at you with reckless abandon—a man starved, like you’re the air he needs to breathe. Your walls flutter around him, the liquid heat in your lower belly threatening to burst.

“Tastes so good,” Logan mumbles against you, his long, thick fingers thrusting in and out. He hits that sweet spot deep inside you with every pump. “Such a sweet little pussy. Tastes better than I imagined.” You’re crumbling underneath him. His words alone might push you over the edge. “Nothing compares to you, you know that?”

Your walls flutter again, his fingers sinking deeper inside you. “You like that?” Logan husks. “Like knowing how much I want you? How much I need you?”

“Yes,” you groan, his fingers fucking into you, faster now. His teeth graze your clit as he pulls the bud back into his mouth and sucks roughly. “N-need you, too. Always.”

“I know, pretty girl,” he soothes, scissoring inside you, dragging along your walls. He laps at you, his tongue stroking your clit. “Not going anywhere. I’ve got you.”

You curse under your breath. You can feel yourself melting, your walls contracting and releasing. “Lo,” you call. “I’m so close. Wanna…” You trail off, unable to finish.

“Can feel you squeezing me, sweetheart,” he breathes. “Don’t hold back. Let it happen,” he coaches, rocking into you. “Wanna taste you, wanna feel you come on my fingers.” He laps at you between sentences. “Come for me. Know you can do it.” And then everything is white-hot and blazing.

It’s earth-shattering—better than anything has ever felt before. The tension snaps, heat boiling under your skin. Everything is blurry, hazy, dizzied as you let go, and let go hard. You cry out Logan’s name, your thighs shaking as waves of pleasure drag you under. Your bones are burning, scorching. Everything is on fire—overwhelming and greedily all-consuming.

Logan’s pumps slow, and he carefully pulls out of you. He laves at you, his tongue pushing through your folds, milking you dry, savoring every last drop.

“Logan,” you whisper, your hands reaching down to his head, digging your fingers into his scalp.

He hums against you, unwavering as his tongue laps at your folds, tasting your release.

You’re still shaking, still coming down from your high. “Logan,” you call again, and he looks up this time, lifting his face from your cunt. Your release glistens on his chin, and he licks his lips clean of you. His eyes are dark, his palms squeezing your thighs possessively.

“I’m not done yet, sweetheart,” he says, demand clear in his voice.

Your heart flutters in your chest as he climbs up your body, hovering over you again. His lips find yours. “You taste that?” He mumbles, kissing you again, harder this time. “You taste how sweet you are?”

“Y-yes,” you answer, his hand sliding down your body, slipping between your legs, finding your overstimulated clit.

He pinches the bud lightly, your back arching off the ground, your breasts pressing to his all-too-clothed chest. “Need more of you,” he husks, his hand dragging back up your body. He sits up and pulls you into his chest, taking all your weight as he hoists you up and stands. You instinctually wrap your legs around his waist.

He places you in the center of your bed before striding across the room, closing and locking your bedroom door. “They’ll all be home soon,” Logan says, walking back towards you, spreading your legs and settling between your thighs. “Might have to be quiet for me, darlin’.”

“W-what do you—”

And then his face is buried deep inside your cunt, his tongue lapping desperately at your clit. “I told you,” he rasps. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

tags: @wittyjasontodd @wolverinesslut @galacticglitterglue @silversprings-mp3 @zxaera @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @alastorssimp @alsoprettyinpink @prettyseaveins @ilysmdovie12 @evasmlp @derbygracie @rammakela @honeyfewr @ricefordays-blog1 @manipulatour

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spideyjimin · 6 days ago

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a secret spun in silk: I | jjk

⤷ loving Jungkook was easy, he was the shy and nerdy guy no one really noticed, and that was fine for him. however, everything changed when a radioactive spider bite turned him into the city’s mysterious new hero. as a detective, you were quick to notice the shift. then, his mentor, Kang Sangmin, died in front of you. now, you’re hunting a killer and uncovering the truth about the man you thought you knew.

— pairing: spidey!jungkook x detective!fem. reader

— genre: established relationship, murder au, mystery au, spiderman au, angst, fluff, and smut

— rating: 18+

— words: 9,654

— warnings: swearing, strong language, mention of death, mention of adoption, mention of infertility, lots of kissing, some teasing, humping, oral sex (m & f receiving), nipple play, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, mention of sex, dead bodies, burned body, mention of fire, mention of crying, description of death, blood, mention of murder, and crying

— author’s note: hi guys!! The spiderkook fic is finally here & I hope you’ll enjoy it ✨ sorry it took me this long to post the first chapter, but life has been crazy again & my health is all over the place 🫠 however, i’ve written a lot lately & here you have the fic 💞 you’ll see that there is an alternation between jungkook & oc point of view throughout the chapter, i really hope you’ll enjoy it & let’s see if you’re good detectives 🕵🏻 thanks for reading & don’t hesitate to let me know what you think of this first chapter 🩵

Chapter I: the spider effect

SERIES MASTERLIST | next

Jungkook

His eyes scan the lab report one final time, the pages worn from hours of review. Fingers move with practiced precision, lifting each sample, examining it under the harsh lab light. He's exhausted, but meticulous. A single error could bring his boss's fury down like a hammer. This has to be flawless.

Jungkook could have chosen the easiest way in his professional career. He could have decided to work for his father’s company; the doors were all open for him, but Jungkook never chose the easiest way like his infamous brother, Joongi.

Managing people and businesses is definitely not for him. He’s too shy to be around people, and he’s not sure he’ll ever be good at giving orders and being respected. He largely prefers to stay hidden behind a lab and work on something that truly passions him. Studying samples makes him way happier than sitting in a cold office.

His father, Seojoon, always encouraged him to do whatever he wanted. It was absolutely fine for him if his oldest son didn’t follow in his footsteps. He already knew his second-born, Joongi, would be the one leading the family’s company. His two sons are complete opposites, and that’s why he absolutely loves them deeply.

Seojoon could count on his oldest friend, Sangmin, to help Jungkook on his scientific journey. Kang Sangmin built from scratch a pharmaceutical company. He studied and worked hard before starting a company at 35. Today, his company is one of the biggest in South Korea. Seojoon and Sangmin were neighbors as kids, and their ambition turned them into the most influential men.

Both of them chose different lives. While Seojoon decided to marry and have children, Sangmin preferred to remain single even though he had a son at eighteen. But Sangmin always considered Jungkook as a second son. He has always been by his side and guided him every step of the way.

Even though Jungkook had Sangmin, he decided not to work in his company. Again, choosing the easiest way has never been for him. So he’s working on a company focused on finding cures for rare diseases. And that passions him beyond comprehension.

“Doctor Jeon,” a woman says while entering the laboratory. “A woman is waiting for you at the reception.”

Jungkook doesn’t even bother to look up at her, too scared he’ll lose track of where he is, but a smile appears on his face. He knows who’s waiting for him. You. His beloved girlfriend. The only person he truly adores. Well, he loves his family, but it’s a different kind of love. Loving you is easy. You truly look at him and see beyond his looks.

The scientist doesn’t consider himself handsome, no matter how many times you said it. He’s always tucked behind oversized glasses, his hair pushed back in a bun, but he always wears his awkwardness like a second lab coat. Bunny teeth and big, soft eyes. He looks more like a nervous intern than a brilliant scientist, but that’s exactly why you love him.

“Can you tell her that I just need to finish the report?” he replies.

The woman only nods before disappearing, leaving him alone once more. He’s the associate research scientist and takes his job very seriously. The big boss is always very harsh with him, but it’s because she knows how good he is. She pushes him to be better, and he doesn’t mind at all. He adores what he does.

Now, he rushes his final review to leave as fast as possible to go on the date you organized. You’re going to eat at that fancy restaurant that opened recently. Finding a table was hard, but for once in his life, Jungkook used the “I’m Seojoon’s son” card. He did it for you because you desperately wanted to try this new restaurant.

Beneath his white coat, he wears a classic outfit—a light blue shirt paired with dark blue trousers. He also has a coat matching his pants, but he’ll put it on once he’ll leave the lab. During lunch break, he perfectly tidied his hair, abandoning the usual messy bun for a neater look.

Unlike one might think, this isn’t an uncommon outfit for him. Actually, this is what he’s used to wearing. When he was younger, he was kind of forced to wear this type of outfit. And now, every Sunday, when he goes to his parents, he puts on his best outfit. Otherwise, at home, he prefers to wear larger clothes and only makes a small effort for work.

While checking the last samples, a tiny spider crawls across his hand. Since he’s very focused on the sample, he lets it be, but he wonders how on earth it got here. Erika, an American colleague temporarily assigned to the lab, has been studying spider species. Normally, they’re kept safely in their enclosure.

Jungkook doesn’t even know if the spider is venomous, but if he moves, he’ll risk compromising the sample. The second he places it down, the spider bites him.

“Shit,” he swears.

The man instantly takes the spider and places it back in the enclosure, then walks to the sink to clean the bite with water and soft soap. He’ll keep an eye on it in case it becomes weird, and mentally notes that he’ll need to apply a cold compress once at home. He gets back to work because he’s too eager to finish quickly.

As soon as everything is done, he sends the report to the department director, puts back the samples in that humongous fridge, and removes his white scientist coat to replace it with the dark blue one. As he puts his coat on, his eyes linger for a little while on the ring on his finger.

Ten months ago, on your first anniversary, you bought matching rings with your initials engraved on them. They don’t look like wedding rings, but they carry the same promise. A promise of eternal and unconditional love.

The man closes the lab before rushing to join you. He doesn’t want to make you wait any longer. In seconds, he’s inside an elevator, making his way to the ground floor. When he comes out and walks to the reception, he finds you sitting on a bench with your eyes looking at your polished nails. The brightest smile grows on his face when he sees you. You make him happy like nobody ever did.

You finally turn your head, and your eyes instantly meet his. Slowly, you stand up with your purse and jacket in your hands. Jungkook falls even more in love with you. You’re wearing that pale purple silk dress he offered you at the early stage of your relationship. He wanted to impress you and offer you whatever you wanted. Money was never an issue for him. He wanted to use it on you. He still does.

“Woow,” he says when he’s standing in front of you. “You look like a fucking dream, pumpkin.”

The pumpkin nickname arrived when you confessed how much you like a good pumpkin soup. Your mom always prepares it in the winter, but now that you live with your boyfriend, you’re the one preparing it. However, your mother brings you some once in a while.

You tiptoe to kiss your boyfriend, and he gently wraps an arm around you. Being around you is his favorite place on earth. He always wonders how he got so lucky to find you, and he’ll forever be grateful that destiny placed you in his arms.

“And you always look so fine with that suit, nerdy,” you whisper on his lips.

Jungkook never liked being called ‘nerdy’; he always hated it, but you’re the only one he’ll ever let. It actually makes him happy to hear you call him by that nickname.

“Ready to go to that fancy restaurant?” he asks while intertwining his fingers in yours.

“I’m so excited,” you giggle.

Your boyfriend can’t help but find you absolutely adorable. You both make your way out of the building, saying goodbye to the receptionist. Since the restaurant isn’t too far, you walk together in the streets. The closeness between your boyfriend’s workplace and the restaurant is the reason why you joined him. If it weren’t the case, he’d be the one waiting for you at the reception of the police station.

“How was your day, pumpkin?” he asks before placing a soft kiss on the back of your hand.

“Same as always,” you shrug. “We found a dead body and are now investigating the cause of death.”

Jungkook doesn’t understand how you can be doing this; you’re constantly meeting death and crazy killers. That simple thought sends shivers down his spine. Most of the time, he’s worried about you. Any crazy killer that you put behind bars has reasons to hate you and chase after you. He’s scared that one of them might do it.

“Not a traumatic dead body?” he asks with concern.

Sometimes, when you arrive home, you burst into tears. Some deaths are harder to deal with than others. On those days, your boyfriend makes sure to give you all the comfort you need.

“No,” you shake your head. “It was a simple shot to the heart.”

“Don’t know how you can call that ‘simple’,” he chuckles. “Nothing is simple with a dead person.”

You smile while his hand squeezes yours. For the rest of the walk, you explain to him how this death was simple, and the case might be closed very soon. The man found dead was hated by everybody, so one of those people might be responsible.

Jungkook also explains what he’s been up to for the day. He doesn’t go into much detail, as it’s confidential, and because you don’t know much about scientific stuff. Nonetheless, it warms his heart to share with you what he’s been doing.

Once you reach the restaurant, he walks in front of you, his fingers never letting go of yours. At the entrance, he informs the waitress under which name he booked a table. She guides you to a table near the window. A bright and big smile grows on your face when you notice the incredible view.

“You outdid yourself,” you tell your boyfriend as he pushes your chair.

“Couldn’t bring you here without getting the best seats,” he replies. “If I were going to pull the Seojoon’s son card, I needed to do it properly.”

“You’re not wrong,” you say, sitting down.

Your lover grew up going to prestigious restaurants. His parents would never settle for cheap ones because it was all about image. Jungkook never minded it. It was just a restaurant after all. But as he reached teenage years, he realized he was the only kid at school who never went to McDonald's or any of those fast food restaurants. He already felt like an outsider, but that made him feel even weirder compared to the others. His entire life, he was the nerdy guy nobody ever noticed or looked at. But he never cared about it. He had his friends, and that was enough.

However, as years went by, he started to wonder if he would ever find a girl. He was nobody’s type, especially in the world he grew up in. Girls were only interested in looks and money. He had the money but not the looks. But sounds like money wasn’t enough.

And then, one day, he met the girl who brought some DNA samples. It was late, Jungkook’s company had agreed to assist the police with a case, and you showed up at his lab. It was your case. You were running after a serial killer. Since it was an emergency, the police needed the best lab.

Jungkook had only been working there for five months. You spent the entire night together. Him examining the samples and you, attentively watching him work. You’d ask him random questions because you were curious to find out more about him. He intrigued you. And by the end of it, you offered him breakfast to thank him. Yeah, it was already like 5 am when he finished.

It was the best night of your lives, and it was the beginning of something beautiful.

Jungkook fell madly in love with you. Just like you did with him.

You’ve been his first in all aspects of his romantic life, and even though that scared you at the beginning, you’ve been enjoying it a lot. Watching him discover everything with you is one of the biggest accomplishments of your life.

“Next month, Sangmin is organizing a dinner at his place,” Jungkook begins. “He’d like to have us. Is it fine for you?”

It’s been a while since Jungkook last saw Sangmin. He’s been travelling a lot, gathering awards for his company’s accomplishments, and building a new branch in Kyoto. They’ve of course discussed a lot over the phone because Jungkook always feels the need to speak with him about scientific stuff.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” you tell him. “Also, next weekend, Jin is inviting us over to his place.”

Jin is your older brother, and Jungkook is quite close to him. They created a rather great bond, one you never expected to be formed because of Jin’s protective tendencies. But your boyfriend really adores being around him.

“No problem.”

Your brother is currently on his honeymoon with his wife, Hyorin. They got married three weeks ago, and they’ve been enjoying their little romantic escape. Even though Jungkook won’t admit it, he misses your brother. They hang out together quite often.

“He’s inviting the whole family,” you add.

Jungkook frowns. That’s weird.

“Why?” he asks.

“Don’t know, but it’s for sure something important.”

A couple of months into your relationship, Jungkook got to meet your entire family, composed of your parents and your two older brothers. Besides Jin, you have another brother, Taehyung, who’s only a year older than you. You’re very close to the two of them, and through you, Jungkook got two new brothers.

“My mom has already called me asking if I knew why,” you shake your head with a smile.

“She’s too curious,” he chuckles.

“She’s already thinking that they might announce an upcoming baby, but I strongly doubt it,” you confess. “Jin and Hyorin always said they wanted to take their time and enjoy their married life before having a baby. But you know my mom,” you smile.

Jungkook adores your mom. She welcomed him with open arms when you introduced him. He was so scared your parents might reject him, but it was actually the opposite.

“She’s been patiently waiting for that grandchild,” he says while remembering the many conversations where she, without subtly, made you all understand that she wants to become a grandma.

Early in your relationship, you told your boyfriend that you and your brothers were adopted. Your parents had trouble conceiving, so instead of forcing and pushing their bodies to exhaustion, they decided to adopt. Jin was a year old when they brought him home, Taehyung was five months old, and you were just a month old. All three of you came from the same orphanage.

Your adoption was never a taboo subject, but Jungkook has always been very careful about how he approached the matter. He’s scared to hurt you.

“The day one of us gets a baby, she’ll throw the biggest party ever seen,” you jokingly say.

“I wouldn’t be surprised.”

When Jungkook looks at you, sometimes he wonders what you saw in him. To him, you’re the prettiest girl to ever walk the face of the earth, while he sees himself as an ugly and boring man. But he tries to brush those thoughts away because you’ve told him many times that he’s the most handsome man you’ve ever seen.

The rest of the dinner goes by quickly while you both talk about everything. Although you live together, it always feels like you constantly have so much to say. It’s like you haven’t seen each other in days, while in fact, it has only been a couple of hours.

Through it all, he felt normal, except for the itch in his hand. He kept scratching it without really noticing.

Once over, you walk back to Jungkook’s workplace because his car is parked in the underground garage. On the way home, you sing along to every song that plays out, always trying to see who can sing the loudest. Your boyfriend is kind of wild when it comes to singing.

At home, he opens the door and lets you in first. He follows right after you, closing it carefully. His hand slips into yours before gently pulling you to face him.

“You look so good in that dress,” he whispers.

His lips meet yours for a sweet and tender kiss; there’s no urgency or anything else in it. There’s only warmth. The tenderness in it makes your heart melt completely.

“Not as good as you,” you whisper against his mouth.

Your boyfriend leads you both to your shared bedroom, his touch hinting that he wants more than just kissing you. As soon as the door closes, he turns, and his lips crash on yours once again. Your hands cup his face while you kiss him passionately. He’ll never grow tired of kissing you. He’s definitely addicted to you in every possible way.

Jungkook reluctantly breaks the kiss to sit down on the edge of the bed with an unsteady breath. He also takes his glasses off, placing them on the nightstand. You quickly follow him, settling into his lap and straddling him. The way your dress rides up steals his breath all over again. Your now bare legs are pressed against him, and his hungry eyes roam up your body, drinking in the view with the most perverted smile growing on his face.

“You look even better from this perspective, pumpkin,” he confesses, his voice low and thick with desire.

Surprisingly, he pulls his phone from his pants pocket before taking a picture.

“Seriously?” you say as you shake your head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Just wanted to capture perfection,” he says.

You roll your eyes, but he notices the smile fighting its way through. That smile disarms him every time.

Once he has taken enough pictures of you, he throws his phone somewhere on the bed. His hands find their way to the sides of your waist, running up and down. He absolutely savors the way your body responds. You shiver under his touch, and the reaction sends a deep pulse straight through him.

“God,” he thinks, “how did I ever get this lucky?”

Your lips crash into his again, stealing what little composure he has left. Then, in an attempt to tease him, you slowly grind your hips against his. Heat instantly blooms low in his abdomen. A low and deep groan leaves his mouth before he can stop it, a sound that you gladly swallow.

He tries to keep his breathing steady, but it’s useless. Every roll of your hips pulls him deeper into the haze, his focus narrowing to the friction between you, your warmth, your weight, the way you know exactly what you’re doing. His hands grip your waist, trying to ground himself, but his control is slipping fast.

Then you whisper against his lips, in a very teasing tone: “I guess someone’s getting turned on.”

He lets out a breathless laugh, but the sound dies in his throat as your hips move again. He can’t hide the growing tension in his body, and the ache building beneath his pants. His heart’s pounding faster. The more you move, the more he loses himself in the moment.

Jungkook opens his eyes, staring at you with lust shining in his eyes. The effect you have on him is incredible; you have him on his knees. Speaking of knees, you get off his lap to drop down on your knees.

He instantly understands what you’re about to do, and he spreads his legs for you. Seeing you between his legs makes him grow harder. It’s such a turn-on position, especially since he knows that in a matter of seconds, your mouth will be wrapped around him. Too eager to feel you, he strips himself of his pants and underwear.

“Someone seems in a hurry,” you chuckle.

“Can’t wait to feel your mouth,” he admits.

You roll your eyes with the biggest smile on your face. He can’t help but find you even more attractive. Whenever you’re both about to go wild, he always finds you more attractive than usual.

“You’re lucky that it’s what I’m about to give you,” you say, while he throws his pants and underwear somewhere in the bedroom.

Right after, you spit on his cock before your hands touch his length. Immediately, a guttural moan escapes his soft lips. His eyes are glued on you while he runs a hand through his dark hair. Fuck, it already feels fantastic.

Seconds later, you shove his cock down your throat, which makes him growl deeply. His eyes rolling back to his head. The feeling of your mouth wrapped around him is like heaven to him. He could die right now.

Honestly, he’s so lost in pleasure that he can’t tell when you started to suck him. All he knows is that he’s a moaning mess. His legs are shaking like crazy as he gets closer to orgasm. It’s obvious he won’t last long with the way you’re sucking him off.

Jungkook avoids looking down at you because he knows damn well that the second he lays his eyes on you he’ll come. With shaking hands, he grabs your hair to guide you but never once does he shoves your face deeper into his cock. The last thing he wants is to hurt you, although he’s completely lost in pleasure.

“Fuck, pumpkin,” he growls. “You’re doing so well,” he praises you.

His cock twitches inside your mouth as he gets closer to the edge. He feels you hollowing your cheeks, pushing him closer to his orgasm.

“Can I come inside?” he asks when he feels himself very close to orgasm.

Even though you’ve been together for almost two years, he always asks for your consent when it comes to sex. In this case, he’d never want to finish in your mouth unless you truly desire it. The idea of doing anything without your full consent makes his stomach turn. Respecting your boundaries matters more to him than anything else.

His cum explodes inside your mouth while deep groans leave his lips. He delicately grinds his hips, pushing his hot seed deeper into your mouth. Your boyfriend feels your eyes on him while you take all he has to give.

When you remove your mouth from his length, he falls back onto the bed, his eyes looking up at the ceiling. How on earth can you only get better at pleasuring him? He’s sure that one day he’ll die.

“You’ll kill me one day, pumpkin,” his gaze shifts to meet yours.

“It’s not the purpose, nerdy,” you smile at him.

His lips crash against yours to fervently kiss you. His tongue doesn’t waste a second to meet yours, and he can taste himself. A little moan escapes his mouth, one that you instantly swallow.

However, you quickly break the kiss as you’re both horny as fuck and want nothing more than have sex. You rapidly undress before lying on the bed. Jungkook spreads your legs and nestles himself in between them. His favorite place on earth.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispers.

He then proceeds to kiss your inner thigh, and his soft lips on your skin send shivers down your spine.

“Jungkook,” your hand flies down to grab his hair.

His tongue swipes at your folds, his mouth wrapping perfectly around you. Moans of delight escape your lips, his favorite melody. His round nose rubs against your clit, and he does it on purpose because he knows it’s something you like.

“You always taste so good, pumpkin,” he mumbles against your core.

Your thighs squeeze his head, your fingers push harder on his hair, and your back arches off the bed while he delicately licks your folds. Feeling you falling apart makes him groan against you. He’ll never grow tired of it.

His tongue burrows into you, lapping at your wetness. There is nothing better than having your juices running down his throat. You heavily sigh with pleasure when he tilts his head up a little higher to lap deeper into you. When he pulls at your folds with his teeth, your back arches off the bed, your legs squeezing around his head harder, his name rolling off your tongue over and over again.

As he licks and bites your folds, you scream louder and louder, your orgasm threatening to explode at any moment. Since you started dating, he’s been learning like a good boy how to please you, and he’s proud of how he can make you come with his mouth only.

Two years ago, he wasn’t able to do anything to give pleasure to a woman. And now, he’s an expert in eating out and making love to you. He has memorized every single detail of your steamy sessions so he can get better each time. Pleasuring you is deeply important to him.

It’s a matter of seconds before you’re completely overwhelmed by your orgasm. Jungkook never stops until you’re squirting, his face now covered in your juices. He glances up at you again, his lips shining with your arousal that he blissfully licks with his tongue.

“You look so damn hot with my arousal all over your face,” you confess with a smirk.

Before doing anything else, he strips himself of all the remaining clothes to be fully naked. He can get quite sweaty while sharing an intimate moment with you, and having clothes on him doesn’t help at all. You take advantage of the moment to also get fully naked.

He crawls over your body, his fingers brushing along your stomach and up to your breasts. The man leans down to kiss the space between them, your back arching at the feeling of his lips on your skin. His round nose brushes against your chest while his mouth ghosts over your breasts. His warm breath stings against your sensitive skin, teasing you.

His hands hold your breasts tightly, and his thumbs flick over your nipples. Little moans leave your mouth. His lips kiss from the valley of your breasts up to your throat, his tongue licking all the way up.

Pulling his head back, his eyes get lost in yours before he presses his lips on yours, kissing you passionately and fervently. He’s impossibly hard, precum leaking from the head of his dick, and he wastes no time in pushing himself into you.

His cock slides in you quite easily, and you cry out as he buries himself deep into you. He knows that he’s impossibly big, that’s the first thing you told him when you saw him naked for the first time. Honestly, his chest swelled with pride that time. However, he’s also fully aware that it also stretches you a lot when he buries himself in you, and that it can be painful sometimes.

Jungkook pulls his hips out before slamming back into you so harshly, and he swears he felt your whole body shudder. The second he’s fully buried inside you, he stops his moves, watching down at where your bodies meet.

Slowly, he resumes thrusting back into you. The man hovering over you ensures to fill you up to the brim at a very slow pace. Your moans get louder as he rails the shit out of you.

“Faster,” you tell him.

A smirk appears on his face before he thrusts into you at a faster pace, which has you clenching so tightly around him. The room is quickly filled with the sound of his hips slapping against yours, as well as both your moans and heavy breathing.

The two of you get completely lost in your euphoria. You squeeze your walls around him, making him groan loudly, and he quickens and deepens his pace. The intensity with which he’s pounding into you makes you moan with delight.

“Oh, Jungkook,” you mewl before you bite at his lower lip, tugging at it hard.

His eyes are locked with yours, and right now, as he looks at you, it’s like the world around him has vanished completely. Jungkook caresses your face with a smile on his face.

“You’re so wonderful,” he says before pressing a sloppy kiss on your lips.

His pace gets relentless. The bed under you is creaking while your breasts are bouncing at the rhythm of his pace. One of his hands snails up from your waist to grab at one of your breasts, squeezing at your soft flesh before he pinches your nipples. The feeling is overwhelming you both at this stage.

The man above you leaves wet kisses along your jawline, your neck, and your shoulder. On the other hand, your nails scratch his back, leaving red marks all over him.

“Jungkook, I’m gonna,” you whimper. “I’m gonna cum...”

Your walls are clenching extremely hard around him, your legs are shaking, and your moans are pretty much out of control. He knows now that you’re close. His hips move faster, desperate to make you come undone under him.

“Come for me, pumpkin,” he whispers in the shell of your ear. “Make a mess all over my cock.”

The orgasm completely explodes. Your eyes close as your face contorts with pleasure, and you cry out his name over and over again. Jungkook watches with marvel the way you come under him and he enjoys the way your pussy creams his cock.

Jungkook’s dick throbs inside you but he continues to wreck you until he’s coming inside you. He’s fully aware that he isn’t going to last much longer than you do because damn, pleasure is overwhelming him so much.

“Fuck, I’m going to come,” he growls in your ear. “Can I come inside?”

You nod, and instantly, he lets go of any control he has over his orgasm, releasing his hot semen inside you. His body is completely tense while he sloppily thrusts two last times to push his cum deep inside you.

Then, he slowly collapses against your chest, his lips pressing a soft kiss against your neck as he nuzzles himself against you. Your arms wrap around him as the two of you come down from your intense orgasms. The room falls completely silent except for the sound of your heavy breathing.

“We should go take a shower,” he finally breaks the silence. “I smell like sex.”

“Don’t want to break it to you, but we just had sex,” you giggle.

“Really?” he pretends to be surprised. “I thought we were driving a spaceship.”

You shake your head while you laugh. The brightest smile grows on his face as he watches you laugh at his silly jokes. His entire life, he wondered how his mom could laugh at the stupid jokes his dad made, but now he understands. It’s love. And he also now understands how his dad feels whenever his mom laughs.

“Well,” he gets closer, his arms wrapping around you, “maybe we could drive the spaceship once more. I’ll even let you drive this time.”

“Is this how you’re inviting me to ride you?” you raise an eyebrow.

“Absolutely,” he answers without hesitation.

And just like that, you go for round two.

Jungkook

Jungkook slowly opens his eyes, blinking against the soft morning light. For the first time in years, he feels rested. Not just “not tired” but really rested. His head is clear, and his mind is light. He feels like he has slept for a month straight when in fact, he knows he barely slept six hours. It’s like someone pressed a reset button on his body. And God, it feels good.

He breathes in deeply, savoring the clarity until something odd cuts through the calm.

You’re in the kitchen, preparing breakfast, and he can perfectly hear you. The pouring of coffee in mugs, the water running, the way you put butter on the toast. He hears absolutely everything. It sounds like you’re standing right beside him, while those two rooms are far away from each other. His brows furrow.

“Since when can I hear that?” he mumbles to himself.

He sits up quickly, way too quickly. His body stretches like elastic, every muscle feeling sore as if he’s been hitting the gym all night long. Heat pulses across his back, his arms, and even down to his fingertips. He groans while rubbing his neck.

“What the hell did I do last night?” he whispers.

For sure, all the sex you had last night isn’t responsible for this soreness. This was a soft night because you didn’t go for many rounds. There have been nights when there were at least three rounds, and even like that, he never felt sore. So, this isn’t related at all to sex. This is something else.

By pure reflex, his eyes look down, and they instantly widen. His chest looks different. It looks leaner and tighter. His shirt clings where it usually sags. There’s definition where there wasn’t before, like faint ridges of abs, and the beginnings of something sculpted. He stares, jaw slack.

This is more than weird. How did his body change that much overnight?

“For fuck’s sake,” he groans as he tries to stand, but his feet don’t move.

They are actually glued to the hardwood floor. He yanks harder, and panic starts building up inside him. A soft cracking noise, like something unsticking, echoes under his foot before he finally sets free.

“What’s going on?” he breathes, heart pounding.

His hands shake slightly as he steadies himself. The room looks the same, but everything feels off. Colors seem more saturated, sounds sharper, and air thicker.

This isn’t normal. This is impossible. It all feels like a dream. But the soreness is real. The sounds are real. The growing fear in his chest is real. This isn’t a dream.

He walks to the bedroom mirror as he wants to check himself out. He wants to see with his own eyes how much he has changed, but it seems like it’s easier said than done. Jungkook struggles to walk to the mirror since his feet seem to cling to the floor.

“For fuck’s sake,” he swears. “How am I going to make it to work?”

Somehow, he manages to reach the mirror and gets absolutely stunned when he sees his reflection. The body he sees isn’t the same body he’s used to waking up in.

His chest looks firmer, defined in a way that no amount of gym sessions ever managed before. His biceps stretch the sleeves of his shirt slightly. Slowly, he lifts the sleeve of his tattooed arm to take a proper look. The sight takes his breath away. It looks a lot better now.

As he runs a hand through his hair, he notices the way his fingers move faster. Every little motion feels efficient, more controlled.

But even though this is all surprising, he only feels good. Like really good. It’s like his entire nervous system has been rewired. It’s more aware, more reactive. Even the air against his skin feels sharper somehow.

Too caught in his discovery, he doesn’t hear you coming.

“Honey?” you say, and he instantly looks at you.

At this precise moment, he realizes that he’s seeing you perfectly like he has never seen before. His vision has always been terrible. As far as he can remember, he's always needed glasses, but now, it seems that he doesn’t.

“Yes?” he replies.

You squint your eyes, and Jungkook wonders if you’re noticing the changes.

“Are you okay?” you tilt your head. “You seem weird.”

He definitely feels weird. Something’s off, and he can’t tell why.

“I guess I’m getting sick,” he tries to justify. “I don’t feel well.”

For a moment, you just stare at him, not saying a word. He’s getting worried, and his heart starts beating crazily.

“I prepared breakfast,” you finally break the silence. “I have to go. A new body was found.”

Jungkook nods while you step forward, pressing a goodbye kiss on his lips. He clings to the moment longer than usual, the warmth of your lips grounding him.

“Have a nice day, pumpkin,” he says, managing a smile as you disappear out the door.

The moment you’re gone, everything crashes back in. He can hear his own heartbeat, the wind brushing against the windowpane, and your footsteps as you leave the apartment. His fingers twitch, and he stares at his hands.

As he does so, an event from yesterday pops out. The spider. His eyes dart to the spot where he was bitten, but there’s nothing. No redness. No mark. It’s like it never happened. He pokes at the skin, but there’s nothing unusual. Well, at least not visibly.

He looks around the room. Every object is in sharp focus. He can count the fibers in the carpet. He sees even better now without glasses than with them.

“What the hell is happening to me?” he whispers.

He tries to move to the kitchen, but again his foot sticks. It clings to the floor, pulling with a strange suction when he lifts it. Instead of panicking again, he tries to calm himself down. As he does so, he realizes that it’s actually helping, and his feet don’t stick that much anymore.

This is without any doubt going to be a hell of a day!

You

“This doesn’t look good,” your colleague, Hyunwoo, says as you’re both looking at the dead body.

“It definitely isn’t,” you reply.

The victim is completely unidentifiable. The killer, or whoever did this, burned the victim’s car, and you’re now left with a burned body. This will take ages before you even find out who the victim is, and then, you’ll have to figure out what happened. This is going to be a long day. There’s no doubt about it.

“I’m already exhausted before we even start working,” Hyunwoo sighs.

“Me too,” you mumble.

There’s not much that you can do right now. You need to leave the forensic take pictures of the crime scene. Afterwards, you’ll be able to start looking for something around the car or inside it.

“How was your date with Jungkook?” Hyunwoo asks with a smile.

“It went well,” you smile as you remember last night’s events. “It’s a very fancy restaurant, and I’m glad we managed to go.”

Hyunwoo perfectly knows who your boyfriend is, and he’s also very much aware of how you managed to get in. He’s sometimes jealous that you found a wealthy guy. He wishes he could find one too.

It’s no secret that Hyunwoo is into guys; he doesn’t hide it. However, his parents still want to believe that maybe one day he’ll decide to settle with a woman. You’re pretty sure that this day might never come.

“That’s the perks of dating Seojoon’s son,” he says before chuckling a bit.

It’s clear that dating Jungkook opens quite some doors thanks to his father. Your boyfriend doesn’t take very much advantage of it, which isn’t the case with his brother, but that’s something you truly adore in Jungkook.

His father’s name literally gives him the world, but he doesn’t use it. He prefers to create his own path. However, it’s also related to his shyness. The man prefers to hide behind the shadows. He hates being under the spotlight. He leaves that to his little brother.

“Eeh,” you hit his arm. “He barely uses it.”

“He doesn’t need to,” he instantly replies. “He’s identical to his dad.”

That is absolutely true; he’s the spitting image of his father. It’s honestly so disturbing, but you can tell that when it comes to the outside world, it’s uncomfortable for your boyfriend. He adores his dad, but he doesn’t like that resemblance because everybody looks at him.

To most, it’s fascinating, but for Jungkook, it’s suffocating.

He adores his father, no question. But walking through life wearing Seojoon’s face comes with an unspoken burden. In public, he feels the eyes. The recognition. The expectations. People don’t just see him. They see the legacy, the name, the empire. And he hates that.

It strips him of something personal, something his own. He’s quiet about it, of course—he always is—but you can feel the weight pressing on him. Most of the time, it just breaks your heart because Jungkook is so much more than the son of Seojoon.

“I know,” you admit.

Jungkook hides a lot behind his glasses; you’ve noticed it. The glasses are what make him different from his father.

“Sometimes he wishes he wasn’t,” you add.

You’ve stopped counting the times when you held Jungkook in your arms while he was crying. People make too many comments without thinking about the consequences of their words. And Jungkook has very low self-esteem, and sometimes words hurt more than they should.

“Well, I wouldn’t mind having a powerful dad and looking like him,” Hyunwoo teases.

You roll your eyes.

“Trust me,” you reply, “it sometimes can be a curse.”

Well, you’ve only gotten to see it through Jungkook. It isn’t a curse for you. You don’t look like your father or your biological father. You’re actually a miny version of your biological mother, just like Jungkook is his father’s.

When you became a police officer, the first thing you did was find your biological parents. Not because you wanted to meet them or anything like that. But you wanted to see what they look like and what kind of person they are now. You have very loving parents, and you never felt the need to look for your birth parents.

Your birth mother was very young when she had you. She was only sixteen, and she had a shitty boyfriend. Following what you found out, he wasn’t really interested in becoming a father. So she decided to give you up for adoption. You know that she has been looking out for you, but you’ve never said anything.

Your birth mother got married years later and now has three kids, ages nine to two. She seems to be happy. At least, when you get to see her from far away, she seems to be a happy woman. And she has beautiful children. You’re sure that she wouldn’t be the woman she is if she ever kept you. Maybe you’d both be miserable.

But you’ll never know because she chose to give you a better life. And you’ll forever be grateful for that.

“How can you know that?” he raises an eyebrow.

“You’d know it if you’d have a boyfriend crying in your arms because someone used him.”

Jungkook is the love of your life. You knew it the second you saw him for the first time, and you did everything you could to have him. It wasn’t particularly easy to convince this man that you were into him because of his lack of experience. But you slowly both fell in love with each other. He’s the best thing that has ever happened to you.

“Detective y/l/n,” one of the forensics comes to you. “We’re finished with the pictures.”

“Thanks,” you offer a small smile.

Your eyes now move to your partner.

“Now let’s work and stop talking about my amazing boyfriend.”

Jungkook

Jungkook hasn’t been feeling himself for the entire morning. His hands and feet cling to everything. If he takes a sample to examine it, it’ll stick to his hand. If he tries to stand up and walk, it’s mission impossible even if he takes deep breaths. It’s starting to be frustrating.

His glasses have been more than discarded. He doesn’t see a damn thing with them, which is more than weird. His colleagues have asked him why he doesn’t wear them anymore, and he invented the shitty excuse that he has decided to use contact lenses. If anybody knows him well enough, they’ll know that he would never do that.

He has also noticed that his new sculpted body is very strong. He has already destroyed half of the lab material because he’s unable to measure his strength. Luckily, he’s always been clumsy, and he can hide behind that excuse, but it’s not the truth.

But the most surprising thing is the webs coming from his wrists. He doesn’t know how it happened or how it works, but there are webs everywhere in his lab. He has spent the past ten minutes cleaning them. He’s sure that he looks like an absolute idiot today, but everything has changed.

He isn’t the same.

He feels it deep inside himself. It’s like his DNA was fully rewritten. He’s not human anymore. There’s something more in his blood, which makes him like he is right now.

“Jungkook?” his colleague Erika frowns. “What are you doing?”

Jungkook turns red, caught cleaning the webs in the lab.

“There was some dirt, and it was making me nervous, so I’ve been cleaning.”

Erika just nods, half convinced.

“I’ve heard you were looking for me,” she says.

“Yep,” he nods while inviting her to come closer. “I’m curious about the type of spiders you’ve been studying here.”

She raises an eyebrow, slightly surprised by his interest, but steps closer anyway.

“Most people avoid them.”

“I’m not most people,” Jungkook replies with a small, almost forced smile.

His hand instinctively brushes the spot where he was bitten, still uncertain if it really happened or if he dreamt it. Erika nods, then leans against the edge of the lab table.

“They’re part of an experimental species—genetically altered arachnids. Originally from South America, but we’ve been enhancing them.”

“Enhancing how?” he asks, trying not to sound too eager.

She pauses, eyeing him carefully.

“Their venom glands have been modified. In short, they can choose whether or not to inject venom when they bite.”

Jungkook frowns with surprise. This definitely sounds intriguing. He was never interested in what Erika and her team were working on, but now that he was bitten by one of them, he needs to know what they’d been doing to those spiders.

“They can choose?”

“They react based on neurological and hormonal stimuli. Think of it like instinct with a switch. In theory, if they don’t feel threatened or provoked, they don’t deliver venom. It’s a protective adaptation we were testing.”

“And what happens if they do inject it?” He swallows hard.

Her expression darkens slightly.

“Well, we haven’t fully tested it on humans. But preliminary results suggest the venom rewrites certain genetic codes temporarily. We still haven’t figured it out, but we hope this could help with aggressive diseases.”

Since Jungkook works in a pharmaceutical company specializing in rare diseases. Their purpose is to find a treatment or cure for diseases that are still very unknown to humans. They try to find a cure for what seems uncurable.

“We’re not yet confident to test it on humans. We think their venom might be too strong and might kill.”

His eyes widen, and he suddenly coughs a lot. Is he about to die? It certainly doesn’t feel like it. Outside of the sticky hands and feet, he feels great.

“We still need to study their venom more, which has many good properties for many diseases.”

Jungkook nods, half interested in her words.

“Why are you asking?” she narrows her eyes.

“Just curiosity,” he replies. “I was working near them yesterday, and it intrigued me.”

“Well, I was just about to go back to the lab. If you want, you can come and I can share with you what we’ve been doing.”

“Yeah,” he agrees.

They both head to the lab, and he tries to act normal, even though he still feels that odd stickiness in his feet. But unlike before, they don’t cling to the floor. It’s as if his body suddenly decides to behave.

When they reach the lab where he was working the day before, something shifts in him. His gaze is immediately drawn to the spider enclosure. He tries to ignore it, but the pull is undeniable, magnetic, almost primal.

There’s no rational explanation, yet it feels as if something inside him responds to them. His heart beats faster. His skin tingles. It’s not fear or revulsion, it’s need. As if a part of him recognizes them. Like they share something now. Blood, maybe. Or something deeper.

His feet move before his thoughts catch up, guiding him toward the glass tank without hesitation. His body wants to be close to them. He can feel it in his bones, in his nerves. He actually feels it in a place beyond reason.

Jungkook swallows hard. He’s not sure if this is curiosity or instinct. Erika speaks, but he barely listens to her. His eyes are constantly drawn to the spiders, and he can barely focus.

“Can I touch them?” he asks.

“Please wear gl…” before Erika can even finish her sentence, Jungkook is already opening the enclosure.

To their surprise, the spiders walk on Jungkook’s hand like it’s totally normal. They don’t avoid his hand. They walk straight to it like they know he’s one of them.

“That’s new,” Erika frowns. “They are usually very avoidant. Nobody can touch them.”

“They seem to like me,” Jungkook teases.

His eyes are glued on his hand with the tiny spiders. They simply walk like it’s the most normal and natural thing in the world.

“Let’s hope that they don’t bite you,” she says.

Well, Jungkook is definitely not going to tell her about yesterday’s event. She’ll for sure start studying him, and he doesn’t want that. He’s not some kind of experience. He prefers that she focus on finding a cure for diseases. What he’s experiencing now is not going to help. At least, that’s what he believes.

None of the spiders bite him, which genuinely surprises him. Maybe the previous bite changed something in him, marked him in a way they recognize. It’s possible they sense it. He doesn’t know for sure, but the lack of aggression unsettles him almost as much as if they had.

“Well, maybe I’ll leave them alone now,” he says as he tries to remove his hands.

The spiders walk back to their enclosure as if they understand that he’s leaving them. This is all so surprising.

“You’re the first that they haven’t bitten,” Erika admits. “Usually, they bite but without venom.”

Jungkook doesn’t know why, but he feels relieved to hear her say that. However, in some sense, he hoped that somebody else was also going through what he was feeling. It seems like he’s one of a kind.

“Glad they didn’t,” he smiles at her while closing the enclosure. “I don’t want to become some lab rat,” he giggles.

Well, he’s for sure going to run some tests on himself. He needs to understand what’s going on, so he’ll be his own lab rat.

“You’re lucky,” she chuckles.

The rest of the day goes by very quickly. Jungkook took some blood to examine it, and most probably, he’ll ask Sangmin if he can use his private and personal lab. He doesn’t want to start investigating his new nature in his workplace because someone might find out and do God knows what.

Once he’s home, you’re already there, watching Ginny and Georgia, your new favorite show. Instinctively, he walks to you, lowering his head to kiss you.

“Hi, pumpkin,” he whispers on your lips.

“Hi, handsome,” you reply.

“No nerdy today?” he smiles as he falls next to you on the couch.

His head rests on your lap while your hands find their way to his hair to play with it. He absolutely adores feeling you play with strands of his hair. It’s his comforting moment after work.

“Not when you’re not wearing your glasses,” you brush his hair back to take a proper look at his cute face.

“They were hurting my nose,” he lies. “I think I have to change them.”

You fall for his lie, apparently, and he’s relieved about it. He’s not sure he could have handled explaining that something is off with him. He’s not even sure you’ll believe him. But above anything, he doesn’t want to worry you with all of this. He needs to first figure out what is going on, and then he’ll tell you everything.

“Do you want me to massage that cute nose?” you offer.

“If my pumpkin proposes, I can’t refuse,” he offers you the biggest smile ever.

You massage his perfect nose, and his eyes get lost on his face. He’s so lucky to have you in his life. You’ve given him a purpose in life. He’s always so excited to go home, even though he adores his lab a lot. You’re the first and only person he loves more than his job.

Suddenly, there’s a faint knock at the door. You both freeze, glancing at each other, before rising to answer. Jungkook pulls the door open, and the world seems to tilt before collapsing under his feet.

Sangmin stands there, barely hunched, pale, trembling. His face is hollowed out, lips barely moving. Instinctively, you run inside to grab your phone and call emergency services.

“Jung…” he whispers, the name barely a breath.

Jungkook stumbles forward instinctively, his arms wrapping around the man who had once seemed unshakable. He feels how light he is. Fragile. A shell. Sangmin collapses into his chest, and Jungkook holds him as if trying to stop the inevitable.

“Sangmin?” Jungkook breathes, panic flaring in his voice. “What—what happened?” he stutters due to the panic taking over his body.

But Sangmin doesn’t answer. His head lolls. His eyes—the brilliant, determined eyes that once inspired Jungkook to become a scientist—are fading fast. Blank. His skin is cold. Jungkook’s own hands start to shake.

“No, no, no,” he mutters, voice cracking. “Stay with me—please—stay with me.”

His chest aches. His heartbeat is wild, like it’s trying to burst out of his ribs. This can’t be real. It can’t be happening. His mentor, the man who believed in him, who treated him like a son, is dying right here, in his arms, and Jungkook can’t do a damn thing to stop it.

Behind him, he hears you talking with a paramedic, but you’re almost screaming at the person to do as fast as possible. You’re telling the person that you’re a detective and they need to hurry.

“Someone…” Sangmin chokes, blood staining the corner of his mouth, “is trying to kill me…”

Jungkook is sobbing now, silent and desperate, his tears falling onto Sangmin’s skin.

“Don’t talk. We’re getting help—just hold on—”

Jungkook quickly looks back at you, and he sees how angry you are. He’s never seen you like this, but he can only understand you. You want help to reach your apartment as fast as possible because you don’t want to be the one investigating Sangmin’s death.

Sangmin is slipping. His breath is shallow. His fingers twitch weakly against Jungkook’s shirt. His heart is breaking as he sees him slowly drifting. Jungkook still holds him as tightly as possible.

“Tell yn…” he gasps, eyes flickering, “to find who… did this.”

“Yes, yes,” Jungkook frantically nods. “She’ll do it.”

A smile grows on Sangmin’s livid face.

“I…” he tries to formulate one last sentence, “love you, son.”

And then — nothing.

The weight in Jungkook’s arms suddenly feels unbearable. And as he sinks to the floor, cradling the lifeless body of the man who meant everything to him, something in him breaks.

“Sangmin,” he tries to call him, knowing perfectly he won’t answer. “Sangmin…”

The desperation in Jungkook’s voice is unlike anything you’ve ever heard. Your body instantly freezes, your breath catching. When Jungkook sinks to the floor with Sangmin, he breaks down in tears, calling him in such a heartbreaking way. Anyone passing by would understand that something tragic has just happened by the way he’s saying his mentor’s name.

Jungkook suddenly feels your body kneeling behind him, wrapping your arms around his trembling frame. You’re holding him as tightly as possible, your face resting against his back. Amidst this pain, feeling you comforts him in a way he can’t even explain. It’s like you’re holding a candle in the middle of a cave and guiding him.

Ironically, he’s holding in his arms the man he idolizes, and the woman he worships is holding him.

This day couldn’t have gone worse. He can’t say what the most tragic event of the day is. The spider effect or Sangmin’s death.

When the paramedics arrive, it’s already too late. As they examine Sangmin, you never let go of Jungkook. You maintain your body pressed against his, shielding him. When they finally lift Sangmin from his arms, the last of Jungkook’s strength crumbles. Tears fall from his face, his hands finding yours to grip them like he’s afraid he might disappear without your touch.

“I’m here,” you whisper before pressing a gentle kiss on his back. “I’ll discover who did this.”

Jungkook knows that this promise carries a heavy meaning. Tracking down murderers is your job. It’s like a second nature to you, but he knows that this time, it is different. You’re not investigating the death of a stranger. You’re going to find who killed a person who shared Jungkook’s heart with you.

This time, it’s personal.

And he knows without a doubt that nothing and nobody will be able to stop you. You’ll find the truth, and make sure justice is done.

#bts #bts imagine #bts fanfic #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #bts angst #jungkook angst #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #bts smut #jungkook smut #spidey jk #spiderkook #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #a secret spun in silk #a secret spun in silk: chapter 1 #spideyjimin

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novthirty · 27 days ago

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🐦‍⬛ OUT OF BOUNDS — you get isekai-d into the n109 zone [chapter four]

synopsis — the monotony of your university days is interrupted by a stroke of misfortune, one which lands you in the world of love and deepspace, the game you had been casually playing for the previous months. with no way to return home, sylus offers you the job of being his personal secretary. — a continuation of the one-shot “out of bounds”

pairing — sylus x non-mc! reader

tags — reader is not mc, isekai/transmigration, fluff, angst, mutual pining, slice of life, boss/employee relationship, slow burn, grief, mourning, loss

a/n — we have finally reached the long awaited reader crashout and are nearing the end… i hope you all enjoy! this chapter was fucking with me for so long and i wanted to take my time rather than under deliver. this story means a lot to me and i’m trying my best to make sure it pays off well<33 but still, 18k words was not easy to edit so please don't mind any slight errors 😓 also, caleb came home in 30 pulls so do expect a birthday fic coming soon ~ (whether it'll be on time for his birthday is the question...)

ao3 | masterlist | series masterlist | part three | part five [coming soon]

chapter four: inevitable — it’s hard to shine when you’re standing between the sun and the moon. wc: 18.6k

The hunter’s arrival is no more than a whisper within the N109 Zone.

Sylus has kept the truth of her existence under lock and key, hiding his weakness under steel and chainmail. As far as the world knows, his interest lies in the protocore attached to her heart — and he plans to keep it that way. Biding his time, preparing for the day he carefully steps into her life.

But, like the force of nature she was, the hunter manages to find her own way in.

He’s the image of cool confidence as he’s informed of her capture in enemy hands, draping a blazer atop his shoulders and instructing the twins to start the car. “Will you be able to hold the fort on your own?” He asks.

But you can see the barest tremor in his hands, the tension in his shoulders, the rising fear of losing her before he even gets to see her with his own two eyes.

“You can count on me.”

This is the only peace you can offer him in the midst of this chaos.

His eyes continue to linger, as if time wasn’t of the essence. Little words have been exchanged between the two of you since the hunter came into the picture. And for a moment, you think he might say something (please, say something). But all he does is grip your shoulder as if to ground himself, nodding in a silent ‘thank you’ before he leaves.

The door shuts behind him.

You know how this story goes. It was only a matter of time before he reunited with his lover in this life, before the story would continue along its tracks and catch you in the crossfire.

Your search for a way home had become painfully futile. You’d think a world altered by the discovery of the Deepspace Tunnel would have more answers to the truth of your presence here, but your search had dug up nothing. Wormholes, dimensional travel, transmigration; from the philosophical to the scientific, all paths led to dead ends.

You sit listless in your chair, fiddling with the necklace Sylus gave you as you wait for your life to be thrown into chaos.

Staring into the metropolitan abyss of the N109 Zone, you sometimes like to imagine what sylus sees. An ant-like web of crimes and deceit, of power-hungry folks looking to get ahead and eat each other alive in the process. But all you ever see is a world beyond your understanding. And here, you wonder where you fit in this ecosystem; what your presence has done to change the story.

You burst into terrible, broken laughter.

You shouldn’t get ahead of yourself.

You were but a drop of water in the ocean. There was nothing that you, with no worth or significance to your name, could do to make more than a solitary ripple.

And so, you keep your longings locked and your love as just thoughts, as you wait in bated breath for the story and their fated reunion to begin.

—————————————————————

“Where are you taking me?” Her voice is biting as the twins bring her to the room you’ve prepared. Ornate, spacious, and windowless, just as Sylus asked. A gilded cage with an open door. You don’t see her but her rage rings through the corridors, something that feels almost like a hallucination after having stepped in her shoes, reading the story you once adored.

Her arrival is a marker of the story catching up to you, of time catching up to you. A reminder that you do not belong in this world.

In the next few days, you become a quiet observer of this tale, watching their fractured reunion play out.

“What makes you think I'd ever be willing to help you?” She snapped at Sylus after their third failure at resonance, a sad attempt at a threat when she lay exhausted, slumped in the fancy chair in his study.

“You don’t exactly have a choice, sweetie. As you can see —” He gestures to the opulent surroundings, “— you’re in my territory.”

You roll your eyes. Trust Sylus to make a shit first impression, even to the supposed love of his life.

You keep to the sidelines, going about your typical routine. But your curiosity gets the better of you on the second day, when you offer to bring the hunter her food.

You can’t help but imagine being in her shoes right now; kidnapped by the man she believes to have destroyed her home and killed her family. To an extent, you think it might not be so different to how you felt, first arriving here.

So, you decide to reach out. Maybe gain her trust and coax her into eating and regaining her strength. Food is the way to the heart, after all. At dinner time, you bring a tray to her room, knocking on the door and calling her name.

“Who's there?” She asks from the other side of the door, wariness lacing her voice.

You introduce yourself, “It’s me, Sylus's secretary. Aren’t you hungry?” You soften your voice, treating her with the gentleness you would a cornered animal, but you’re met with silence. Concern gnaws at you, “You haven’t eaten in twenty four hours.”

She scoffs, the sound muffled by the barrier between you two. “What, isn’t that your plan? Starve me til’ I’m too weak to escape and resist Sylus's demands?”

You stop in your tracks, puzzled. “Escape? You know you can leave, right? No one’s going to stop you.” Even the door was unlocked. But you believed knocking was a basic form of respect, unwilling visitor or not.

She stays tight-lipped for the next few moments, so you continue, “Not that you’d get any further than a couple blocks, what with vultures hanging around the compound at all hours of the day—” Your spiel is cut off as she suddenly swings the door open, doing a double take at the sight of you.

It’s clear she sees the resemblance just as you had, her face contorting from defensiveness to stunned confusion. But for you, seeing her in the flesh only refuted any idea of similarity between the two of you.

Haggard and bruised, the hunter still manages to shine in the gritty underbelly of the N109 Zone.

When you first saw her face projected in the hologram, the likeness was unmistakable. The shape of your eyes, the slope of your nose, and the barely-there difference in the color of your hair and complexion. Anyone could have mistaken the two of you as cousins, maybe even siblings. But standing in front of her now, the difference has become clear as day.

You can’t help but understand how so many have fallen head over heels, enthralled by her and her character. In the shadow of her energy and vivacious presence, you could only look dim in comparison. Standing beside Sylus was no small feat — one that you’d failed to live up to, looking nondescript and ordinary at the side of the most powerful man in the N109 Zone.

But of course, she fits like the missing piece to his puzzle. The dragon and the sorceress, now the criminal and the hunter. You try not to feel inferior, tamping down the jealousy and pettiness festering within you, but it’s hard to shine when you’re standing between the sun and the moon.

The initial surprise dissipates, and she eyes you with the mistrust expected of a kidnapee twice-over. You extend the tray towards her as a sign of good will, “Eat it while it’s still hot.”

“...How do I know it’s not poisoned?”

You huff, taking a quick bite. “Happy now?”

She snatches the tray and slams the door behind her in one quick motion. You click your tongue; so much for gaining her trust.

—————————————————————

Time had dulled your memory of how awful their first meeting truly was.

Really, what was Sylus thinking? You wonder as he treats his treasured soulmate so… menacingly.

You’ve become a bystander to the motions of the story you’re familiar with; the failed resonance, her disdain for him, and his absolute lack of tact in interacting with her. With his every word coated in menace and veiled threats, you’re wondering if Sylus was even thinking at all. Was he like this when you two first met? You try to recall as you get the ick from his unexpected hostility.

You want to know what’s running through his mind, what possessed him to think this was the appropriate way to go about this. But since the hunter’s arrival, your time with him had become even more scarce, any moment together cut off by his work or your urgency to leave.

Guilt washes over you each time you see his face drop, when you make another hasty escape from facing him. But you cling on to the belief that this was necessary, to give you both space to adjust to the hunter’s presence, and for you to learn to live with the fact that he was not yours.

The two return from the workshop, and you stride into the office to give your daily secretarial report — only to find him hunched at his desk with a glass of wine, staring vacantly into the skyline of the N109 Zone.

In the dimly lit office, his eyes, shrouded by the shadows, give away nothing. But you catch the way his shoulders tense, his fingers clenching the stem of the glass.

“Sylus?” You call out gently, announcing your presence with audible footsteps as you approach him, breaking your internal promise to keep your distance. But you could only hold out this one-sided silence for so long, weak in the face of his vulnerability.

He calls your name with a weary tone, “Do me a favor and tell the informant I won't be meeting him today.”

“Are you okay? What happened?” You take slow steps in approaching him.

He fiddles with the stem of his wine glass as he releases a low, bitter laugh, “Well… it seems that our dearest hunter fears me. It was not any bodily dysfunction or injury that was preventing us from resonating, but rather her disgust.”

She captured his heart, bound his soul to hers, and now has no recollection of any of it. Detests him to the point her evol rejects his.

You feign ignorance to the story beats you remember, “Well, it’s only been so long since you’ve met her again… If she’s still the same person, her memories of you are still there, deep down.”

“As if the world hasn’t made me wait long enough.”

You don’t know what to say to that — heart torn between feeling bruised and feeling sadness for him.

“I'd like to be alone.” He takes a deep breath, a subtle command as returns his gaze to the skyline, guarding his vulnerability, unwilling to bare more of his weaknesses than he already has.

The world sees Sylus as an unstoppable force, as the supreme authority in the criminal underworld. But though the dragon may be fierce and capable, the human underneath was just that — a human. One that got frustrated, whose skin bruised, who had weaknesses that he guarded with veiled ferocity. But somehow, somewhere along the way, he’d chosen to strip the curtains of that vulnerability to you.

Maybe in another world, you would have taken him into your arms, refused to leave him as he quietly fell apart. But in this reality, it was no longer your place to do so. As it was, he had promised his heart to another, leaving yours too tender to comfort his.

The only peace you could offer him now was the privacy to crumble in solitude.

Still, you couldn’t bear to leave him so quietly. “You’re not a hard person to love. You know that, right?” You whisper, a quiet admission of your feelings. For all his gruff and intimidating nature, it was not his power, money, or looks that earned him your affection. But rather, all the softness he guards from the harsh world he lives in.

You shut the door before he can acknowledge you, trying to wipe the mental image of his conflicted expression. You mute his email for the next hour, redirecting it to your inbox, offering him a brief moment of peace to ruminate in his thoughts.

You laugh silently, bitterly to yourself, for giving so much of yourself for a man who was devoted to another. Despite having been set aside, you still can’t help but show your love for him in the only way you know how. (In the only way you can).

And you wonder to yourself: could you ever touch the part of him that hurts? One of the most powerful men in this world, having his world shaken by the hunter’s disdain. If it were your spite, your hurt that he faced, would it even feel close to the gravity he feels now?

You shouldn’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to.

You had found yourself in the deep end, and it was high time to swim back to shore, to back out of this one-sided race. Because you may have received his affection, but you will never receive the depth of his devotion.

—————————————————————

Hostility melts into mischievous affection as the hunter’s dynamic with Sylus takes a sudden pivot into unfamiliar territory. The visit to the shopkeeper marked a turning point in their relationship as Sylus came to his senses, and their relationship evolved for the better. The truth to their tied souls, you think, as you bear witness to the connection quickly blossoming between them.

You’re fine. Really, you are.

(At least, that’s what you tell yourself each time you see the soft smile on his face, melting in adoration for the hunter.)

You stop avoiding him, after catching a glimpse of the vulnerability he attempts to hide. His face lights up whenever you approach him, breaking the silence you kept for so long. And not for the first time, you feel guilt wash over you for how you added to his existing turmoil.

But still, you’re left wondering about your place in his life now that the hunter has arrived.

The pages turn one after another as the two of you fall back into old routines, nurturing the friendship and camaraderie you built over the past year. But not everything stays the same.

You maintain your boundaries, keeping your nightmares and worries to yourself — settling for long, lonely nights, when the alternative is setting yourself up for a painful road.

One night, you find a rare moment of peace in the recent chaos. The two of you battle over this world’s version of Monopoly in a high-stakes, cutthroat bet to determine who will have the first taste of Luke and Kieran’s slightly… dubious creation in the kitchen.

They had taken up a class in baking after catching you one too many times in the dead of the night, making midnight snacks. A fact which warmed your heart, at first, until you realized that neither twin has ever touched a stove in their lives. The clanging of pots and shouts coming from the kitchen only serve to fill you with dread.

You try your best, but eventually resign yourself to your fate. You know a lost cause when you see it. You didn’t exactly expect death by food poisoning, but when you think about it, it wasn’t a bad way to go.

“Can’t you let this poor salaryman pass through? Just this once?” You pout on the second hour of playing this stupid board game, putting on your best puppy eyes as you implore him to pity your little player.

“That wouldn’t be fair to you, sweetie.” He smiles as you begrudgingly hand over the play money for landing on his property.

His attention is focused solely on you, a rarity since the hunter’s arrival. But even with the scarce time you’ve spent together, you can’t pretend not to have noticed the growing bags under his eyes, the constant furrow in his brow. He’s handled the chaos in the N109 Zone with the stride of a man who knows his word is law; but at the expense of his own health and rest.

In perfect timing, the game ends just as the twins exit the kitchen, dressed in matching aprons and holding a plate of mini strawberry shortcakes. You end up losing, as expected, but Sylus is a good sport — taking a bite right alongside you.

It’s… not bad at all, especially for a beginner. A little wonky and undercooked in the middle, the edges slightly burnt. But it’s edible. “Not bad,” You say — and immediately correct yourself, “Not that I thought it would be! But it’s good. Better than my first go at it, at least.” You leave out the age you were when you first touched an oven — all worth it to see their eyes shining from your praise.

”Awe, thanks, Miss Secretary! It was all in a day’s work,” Luke grins as he fixes his crooked apron.

Of course, Sylus is Sylus. Eliciting his praise is like pulling out teeth. “It’s… acceptable, I’ll admit,” He says with a satisfied hum.

Still, it’s enough for the twins to celebrate with a high five, “Hell yeah!”

The four of you clear half the tray, before bidding the twins good night, the two suddenly tired from the sugar crash. “Amateurs,” You tease. They probably kept taste-testing the ingredients.

“I hadn't expected baking to become such an… outlet of energy for them.” Sylus comments, stealing a strawberry from your piece. You retaliate by getting a scoop of his whipped cream.

“Well, most people I know started baking as some sort of distraction or stress relief,” You eat a forkful of cake and nod in approval. Every storm in your life has been followed by the creation of more pastries than you could possibly eat. “If it distracts them from the pranks, then I wholeheartedly approve!” You cheerily stake your fork into the air.

“Knowing the twins, they’ll just find a way to incorporate it,” He eyes the kitchen doors skeptically, not wanting their mischief to bleed into the food they eat.

With all the sugar you just consumed, it was clear you wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon. “Wanna clear this batch with me? Before they go and stock the fridge with the rest of their projects.”

“I'm afraid I'll have to take a rain check on that,” He says as he puts on his blazer again, standing up from the dining table.

“Hm? But there wasn’t anything on the calendar, last I checked. Did I miss —”

You’ve already brought out your phone to view the shared calendar when he explains, “I’ll be meeting with the hunter regarding a little… deal, that she’s brokered.” He leans down to match your height and ruffles your hair. “Don’t worry, Miss Secretary. Your schedule’s still intact.”

You roll your eyes, trying to muster a smile as you remind him, “Be nice.”

He raises an eyebrow, “When am I not?” Tch. When is he ever?

Soon, you settle in the silence of an empty kitchen — and the thought of more cake doesn’t sound so appealing anymore. It’s never easy hearing of the two spending time together, much less seeing them in the penthouse everyday. But you’d rather have a friendship with Sylus than nothing at all. And you can only hope that with time, one day, it won’t hurt at all anymore.

For a brief period of time, you have hope of that possibility. You think if you hold these boundaries in place and protect your friendship, things might just return to normal. Even if it means the end to anything more.

That is, until the arrival of the auction.

The Solon Hotel celebrates its 15th annual auction, a Myriad of Nights. The crinkled invitation has been pinned to your corkboard for months, a dreaded reminder of all the preparations you needed to make.

The event has kept you on your toes; dutifully studying the list of guests, keeping an eye on keen bidders and Onychinus rivals. This auction is one of the N109 Zone’s most important events of the year, with the grossly rich and the violently powerful alike having a stake in this auction.

One week before the auction, Sylus strolls into the office, a sly smile plastered on his face, “I come bearing good news.”

You roll out your chair to face him. Without missing a beat, you ask, “A raise? World peace? Luke and Kieran outgrowing their terrible twos?”

“I'm not a miracle worker,” He smirks at that last one. “No, I've come to tell you that you’ve been granted a night off on the 17th.”

“The 17th?” You question — and he amusedly spins your chair before striding over to his desk, ready to start the work day. But you’re left dazed, stopping the wheel as you pull up the shared digital calendar, confirming your suspicions. “But that’s the night of the auction.”

“Miss Hunter will be covering for you.”

“Oh?” Your face falls in an obvious dismay you can’t hide.

The auction. Like many things from the story that have become hazy over time, the auction had slipped your mind. With how far back preparations had started, you completely overlooked its connection with the hunter’s arrival.

“She has her own agenda for the night,” He continues, “One that promises bloodshed. So, I want you to rest easy for the night. Take a well deserved break.”

By all accounts, you should be glad. You can’t blame him for making this decision, as you vocally detest going to these events. It’s easily the least enjoyable part of your job. But even with the foreknowledge you had, the thought of her taking your place weighs like a heavy brick in your stomach.

He realizes you’re not exactly pleased. “You can still come if you’d like to, of course,” He’s quick to assure you. “I thought you might enjoy the night off since you despise dealing with these affairs. I didn’t take you for being such a workaholic,” He chuckles affectionately, motioning to ruffle your hair — but you pull away, a little too abruptly.

You see his face fall, and you quickly brush it off and pretend to be unaffected, “Ah, ah, ah — no can do, slave driver!” You dramatically make a letter X with your arms. “You can’t take away a day off once you’ve given it.”

He rolls his eyes, but the concern doesn’t leave his face as he tries to coax you into opening up, eyes filled with a quiet honesty, “There’s no need to pretend like you’re not bothered by this. I know you’ve worked hard for this event.”

“Sylus, you don’t need to worry about me. You have bigger fish to fry. Besides, why would I be bothered by a day off?” You try to play it off.

He sighs, accepting that you’re not going to talk about this any further. “Well, you know that there’s no one who can do your job better, right?” He places a hand on your shoulder, “I just don’t want you getting caught in the trouble that’s bound to ensue.”

You muster a smile, “Of course. After all, what would you do without your dearest secretary?”

He smirks, mind flashing to a night that now feels further than the sun. “Descend into chaos, no doubt.”

As though you were a scorned lover, you watch them from the mezzanine of the penthouse, dressed in your frilly pajamas and sipping a hot mug of tea as they leave dressed to the nines. The criminal and the hunter, two souls cut from the same cloth.

As much as it hurts you to stay behind, there was no way you would be able to stomach the picture perfect image of them together.

“Ready?” He offers his arm with the mannerisms of a perfect escort.

“It's showtime.”

“You lovebirds leaving without me?” You can’t help but be a little dramatic and interrupt their moment — though, Sylus definitely sensed your presence long before they entered. “Could’ve saved me a dance, at least.”

The hunter’s face scrunches in disdain at the mention of lovebirds, but she quickly recovers. “Oh, I think there’ll be more than just dancing, Miss Secretary,” She cheekily lifts the slit of her dress, showing a peek of the pistol strapped to her thigh.

Despite already knowing they’ll have a safe return, your brows knit in worry, “Stay safe out there, you two.”

“You know we can’t promise that — but we’ll make a good effort,” Sylus smirks at you, a hint of concern in his eyes at the idea of leaving you behind.

You nod, a silent way of saying you’ll be okay. You wave goodbye and the hunter returns it eagerly, having warmed up to you in the past week. But the concerned, knowing look never leaves Sylus's face until they depart.

The elevator doors slide shut, and it feels like a coffin closing over your heart.

You laugh at how dramatic you’re being as you hold back a slight tear. It’s just an auction, you keep telling yourself. But it’s not the auction, isn’t it? It was seeing her take your place, and knowing this won’t be the last time.

You pick yourself back up, resolving to make the most of your night off. You make yourself comfortable in the living room, blanket and couch all to yourself, a movie running as background noise as you try to distract yourself with all sorts of hobbies. But you find yourself listless, unable to keep your mind focused on one thing.

The movie ends, and it becomes quiet.

With Sylus gone and the twins on a mission, the silence becomes all consuming. You leave a light on for when they return, trekking through opulent hallways until you reach your room, where once again, you stare into the city skyline stretching out into the distance.

There’s rarely ever an opportunity to be alone in the Onychinus base. But when you are, it never ends well. You used to be able to appreciate solitude in your old world, but maybe you’ve become a little spoiled here, in receiving the constant companionship you had once lived without as a student living away from home.

Here, solitude is when the lines between your dreams and reality begin to blur. Hours dazed in the possibilities of the past, the possibilities of a world where you had stayed. Graduated, diploma in hand as your family stands proudly at your side. Starting your career, devoting your passion to the field you love.

In comparison, this place feels like a lovely yet imprisoning dream. You’re fascinated by the wonders of the world you live in now, but each day that passes is a reminder of your place — or rather, lack thereof — in this world. A reminder of losses beyond comprehension. The loss of chance. The loss of possibility. No opportunity for you to grow, no winding path to change and evolve. And you ask yourself: are you even living?

This world feels like dreaming in a far-too-long nap. And not for the first time, you want to wake up from it.

It's currently March, the last of the winter chill before the snow melts, marking more than a year since your arrival. You feel like a broken record, looping back to the same hurts in an endless loop of grief; your doomed love, severed home, rootless soul. You can no longer fool yourself into thinking you can continue like this. You can no longer pretend to have a reason to stay.

You need to spare yourself from this grief, before it consumes you.

—————————————————————

The auction reaches a chaotic conclusion, one that is whispered about through the N109 Zone for weeks after. You feel the ripples of their actions even from the safety of your office. Luke and Kieran are sent to clean house at The Nest. Meanwhile, you’re swamped with associates from Onychinus’s complex web of loyalties, scrambling to reclaim their spot in Sylus's good graces in light of the recent power struggle.

Eventually, the dust settles. The pages of the calendar turn as the snow melts and warmth pours into the Onychinus base. And alongside the sunshine is Miss Hunter, whose presence becomes a permanent fixture in the penthouse.

It has only been a year since your arrival in this world, but your life has been completely upended, you think. From being a broke, burned out college student, to a tired secretary and mother of three.

Who were those three children, one may ask?

“Miss Secretary!” You poke your head out to see what the fuss was all about, hearing the twins snickering not too far away. The hunter stomps her way to your room, face cringed and seething in disgust. “Luke and Kieran gave me a cookie filled with toothpaste!”

“Ah — see, your first mistake there was trusting anything they gave you.”

Luke and Kieran warmed up extremely quickly to the hunter, as they did in the story. They enjoyed her presence around the base, but you couldn’t tell if it was more for her personality or the fact they had a new target for their trickery. A part of you was relieved; it meant you were no longer on their roster of victims (not that they particularly like pranking you, as you stare them down in disappointment each time). But their determination to mess with the hunter was going to send you into an early grave.

“I didn't even know they could feed themselves, let alone bake,” She pouted, crossing her arms. “In fact, they told me you made them!”

Ah. “Well… there may be some truth to that…” Your voice descends in volume to hide your guilt, but the hunter manages to hear quite clearly.

“You knew about it, and you didn’t tell me?” She gasps, face contorting into mock betrayal. “I can't believe you had it in you to be this… deceitful!”

In your defense, they had only asked you for baking lessons on how to make a cookie sandwich. You had no part in the actual crime. (Though, you may have turned a blind eye at them squeezing toothpaste in the frosting bag. Your patience can only go so far.)

As penance and apology, you promise to bake her actual, edible cookies in return for the monstrosity she just ingested, when you suddenly have a stroke of genius. “I wonder if they have any left.” Your face contorts into a shit-eating grin, “Don’t you think Sylus would appreciate a sweet treat right about now?”

The two of you cackle and rope the twins into it, sending Miss Hunter as the messenger. (He sees right through your ploy, but still takes a bite because she’s the one offering.)

So maybe you’re not as mature as you preach to be. However, your headaches aren’t exclusive to the humans in the penthouse.

Mephisto's permanent return to the base was a spark of joy in the bleak few months you’ve had, as he’s released from the duty of monitoring the hunter 24/7. It surprised you how much you missed the crow, realizing you’d taken his presence as one of your constant companions for granted.

The first week after his return, he sticks to your side like glue. Displeased at the hunter’s continued presence, continuing to report about her to you. Each time he catches her with Sylus he goes to show you the footage — almost like a son tattling on his father’s misdeeds. It’s a sweet gesture; clearly he’s smarter than given credit for, enough to decipher why you’ve been so downtrodden in the recent weeks. But as much as you appreciate his concern, you’re also not a masochist.

“What is it, Mephie?” You groan, abruptly woken after three grueling hours of trying to fall asleep. You would have thrown hands had you not discovered Mephisto, flapping his wings urgently.

He pecks at your cheek, showing you a hologram of Sylus and the hunter in his room, shoulders pressed together in a close proximity you were not prepared to see. “What, you want me to do something about it?” He flaps his wings in earnest, and you promptly turn around to bury your head in the pillow.

“It's none of my business!” You stubbornly burrow yourself under the blanket as he continues to squawk, “I don't want to know about the time they spend together, okay? It’s just rubbing salt into the wound.” You groggily explain, voice muffled by the pillow.

You didn’t need Mephisto to report on them — you already knew Sylus spent all his free time with her. As recalling her memories was a long shot, he turned his efforts to slowly build up their relationship again. What were once free slots in his calendar are suddenly blocked with the simple notes of ‘Miss Hunter.’ Your work dynamic has never been more out of sync, with his adjustments to the hunter’s daytime schedule after you had originally adjusted to his nights. Gone are the nights you could find him downstairs, spending the night chatting away your fears. Now, all you find are the lights turned off and a motorcycle gone from the garage.

Your voice must have taken a sad turn as the crow whimpers, nuzzling his beak into your neck to comfort you, almost like an apology. “It's okay, I know you just wanted to help.”

You let him roost on your bedside drawers, watching as he mechanically shuts down to rest. Mephisto's presence usually helps you fall asleep but tonight, you sigh as you resign yourself to a night of overthinking.

For a while, you thought that Mephie’s grudge against the hunter was one-sided. A rebellious phase, like a son’s poor reaction to his father’s new partner. So imagine your surprise when you realized she returned the sentiment.

You’re knitting on the couch, nodding along and reacting accordingly to Mephie’s squawks and accusatory pointing of his wings to the disgruntled hunter across the room.

“She said that? Oh, I’m so sorry you had to hear that…” You dramatically cater to the crow’s concerns, “I'll talk to her for you, don’t you worry.”

“Sylus should’ve fed him to the wolves,” The hunter pokes her tongue out at the crow, who squawks in horror. “Of all the adorable, fluffy, non-feathered pets he could’ve had —”

“Ah, ah, he’s not a pet,” You correct her to appease the bird who looks as if steam is about to leave his butt. “He’s the best reconnaissance agent we have at Onychinus. Aren’t you, Mephie?” You coo at him and he flaps his wings in agreement.

But of all the changes the hunter’s arrival brought to your life, the most unexpected development was your friendship with her.

In hindsight, it was no surprise. She may be a hunter — cutthroat and fearless, storming into the N109 Zone, wreaking havoc in the city’s most powerful crime syndicate — but you find there’s a certain bond between all freshly graduated college students. A little burned out, a little lost in life. Your similarities run deeper than your appearances, finding common ground in interests and life experiences despite having come from two different worlds.

She turns to you as a refuge within Onychinus, and in the process, she becomes yours.

Although you loved your newfound family, a year spent with only them had perhaps led you to become a little stir crazy. You almost forgot how it was to interact with normal people your age, as your current situation and job didn’t leave you with a lot of room to feel carefree. But the hunter steps in as a breath of fresh air, taking you along on her various escapades.

“What, leaving without me?” Sylus asks with a touch of playful offense, when the hunter arrives at the Onychinus headquarters — not for him, but for you, to his comical surprise. You can see the silent question in his eyes as they flit between the two of you, and you shrug.

“Yes, now go shoo,” The hunter flicks her wrist, motioning for him to leave as she grins and slings an arm over your shoulder. “It's just me and Miss Secretary today.”

This had all began when the hunter had been rambling about Kitty Cards, and you had stupidly made the off-hand comment, “Oh yeah, I’ve never played that before.”

It wasn’t a lie; the real life edition of the game would be a vastly different experience to the virtual one. But the appalled look on her face sent waves of regret coursing through you, as she immediately booked a session at her favorite cat cafe.

Of course, Sylus still manages to pull one on you as you’re promptly greeted by two bodyguards from the pool of new initiates.

Your jaw drops as you turn to him, “Excuse me, do you not trust me to go out on my own?”

“It's not you that I don't trust,” His gaze drifts over to the hunter, who glares at him in offense. “Our dear hunter, on the other hand, has a talent for finding trouble.”

The hunter in question scoffs, “Well, why else do you think I keep you around?” She tilts her head cheekily at him, as he rolls his eyes, breathing an affectionate sigh.

Like always, it’s a casual punch to the gut.

His gaze travels to you (almost knowing, you think) but you brush it aside and keep the neutral expression on your face. “Let’s wrap it up, you two.” You walk forward, lightly shoving your shoulder against Sylus’s, interrupting their moment. A rare moment of pettiness from you, but you think you’re entitled to it every now and then. “Shall we go? I’d like to see the Linkon sun before nightfall.”

You spend the day in Linkon where she crushes your ass repeatedly, and you’re not even offended. You were only here to see the cats, after all. It’s the perfect duo; she’s way too competitive and you don’t care about winning at all — the best of both worlds as you share the winnings, anyway, at the badge counter.

In your small world consisting of your newfound family at Onychinus, you appreciate the new friend you’ve made. An appreciation that surpasses any of the petty jealousy you may have. Time spent with the hunter means the opportunity to be a little less mature, to be silly in a way you haven’t been in a long time. You appreciate the brief reprieve, as this world has forced you to remain at 100% — keeping you at constant guard in the wake of your transmigration.

Alongside kitty cards, she introduces you to the pop culture in this world, something you were never given a glimpse of in the game. One afternoon, you two decide to steal a set of speakers from Sylus’s study, putting on a playlist she made after learning how little you knew of mainstream music.

You’re sitting on the floor of your room, surrounded by papers as she switches the song to a soft acoustic track. “I like this one,” you comment, making a mental note to add the artist to your own playlist.

“You don’t know them? Huh, I guess I shouldn't be surprised since you didn’t know any of the fifteen others before this…” You laugh awkwardly as she sends you the link, murmuring a soft thanks. “Did you grow up under a rock?”

“Something like that. I grew up really far from Linkon, it’s like an entirely different world there.” It wasn’t a lie.

She never questions you further than that, to your relief. “You know, three months ago I wouldn't have dared to step into sylus’s study unless my life was at stake,” The hunter reminisces, sprawled out on your bed. “But here we are, committing casual theft.”

“You’ll learn over time he’s not as scary as he thinks he is. Especially when it comes to you. You could — I don’t know, spill your coffee on his desk, or stage a revolt against him in Onychinus, and he wouldn’t even bat an eye.”

She rolls her eyes, but you can see the faint blush coating her cheeks. “You’re exaggerating. Honestly, I was scared shitless when I first met him. Don’t tell him that,” She stares you down, and you motion to zip your mouth closed. “But I guess he’s not that bad, the more I get to know him…”

You smile, partly out of affection and partly out of bitterness. The hunter is so obviously smitten, and you know it’s only a matter of time before she opens her heart to him.

By all means, you should be happy for them. You should be happy that your dearest friend in this world is finally getting the love and happiness he desires, that he deserves. You promised to back out of this unspoken race and let the story continue as intended — but here and now, fiddling with the beautiful necklace given to you many moons ago, you realize you have a habit of clutching onto things for far too long.

Long after the hunter leaves, you shuffle papers and calendars around to an unnecessary degree of perfection, lingering on these thoughts. Your friends, your family, your dreams, had made up the beautiful, imperfect mess that was your life. But here, beyond the walls of this place, the sad reality was there was little reason for you to stay. Little reason for you to live.

And you wonder, when she finally takes the place you hold in Sylus’s life, in Onychinus — what will be left for you in this world?

—————————————————————

Early April showers take over the dark skies of the N109 Zone, a soft drizzle pattering against the windows of Sylus’s main office. It's a slow day, spring taking its course as Onychinus returns to a new normal with the hunter.

Stoic and focused he may seem, but Sylus’s mind is anywhere but work, drifting to the hunter and their blossoming relationship. He’s taken any and all opportunities to spend time with her. His schedule — once filled with free nights and weekends spent cozily in the penthouse — are booked back to back in any free moment he and the hunter can spare. His text messages, typically relegated to his work, become full of silly little moments as she continues to take a larger place in his life.

It’s what he wanted, isn’t it?

So why does he feel his heart fall every time he sees the distance that’s grown between you two?

It's the 17th of April, and despite the little time you’ve spent together, he knows you already have something planned for his birthday. You haven’t breathed a word about it, but he knows that you would refuse to let it go uncelebrated, if the twins’ hushed scheming around him isn’t enough to go by.

He rests his chin on his hand, scrutinizing you, as if he could read your mind if he tried hard enough. You type away on your computer like a machine, so focused that it takes an awfully time before your eyes drift over to him, a bit alarmed at the intensity of his staring. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“No reason at all,” He barely holds back the smirk threatening to curl at his lips.

He can practically see the thoughts running through your head. Is he mad? Is he planning something? Can he read my mind? Until you finally look away with a resigned sigh.

He chuckles under his breath, thinking he’s ready for whatever you have planned, when the door swings open, revealing the hunter — who was supposedly busy with work today — on a surprise visit.

“Knock knock!” She raps her knuckles against the open door, “Good evening, Miss Secretary! Or — good morning, I guess, for the both of you?”

“Did I say you could come in?” Sylus asks with his typical drawled snark.

She scoffs, throwing a smile at you before occupying his visitor’s chair, crossing her legs and making herself comfortable. “Is that any way to greet your favorite hunter, who’s so kindly come to you since you’ve been busy all week?”

He narrows his eyes, “You want something from me.” A statement, not a question.

She sticks her tongue out at him, having clocked her immediately before she even got a word in. “A little birdie may have told me that you own an RX–116 —”

“You’re not riding it.” The answer comes automatically, eyes mechanically returning to the paperwork he’d been previously neglecting.

“You haven’t even let me explain why…!”

“Alright, tell me. Why should I let you take Treasure — my most cherished motorcycle — out on a reckless joyride into the N109 Zone?” He crosses his arms, patiently waiting for her answer.

“Because you’re a fun–loving soul at heart, who values the happiness of his friends?” Her tone is light, fingers crossed, only to receive his deadpan stare. She huffs, “Oh, come on. I promise I'll be careful. What if you drive? If Miss Secretary can survive it, I definitely could!”

His eyes drift over to you, and you barely glance up from your screen, deigning him with a shrug. “Sorry, she asked.” He continues to stare intently at you, a silent plea he hopes you’d understand if only you’d just look up. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“…No meetings? Deadlines? Overdue paperwork? Tell me what’s on my schedule today.”

You grant him an almost knowing smile, rolling your eyes. “Since when have you cared about paperwork?” Still, you flick through the digital calendar, lazily pretending to indulge his request. “No, there’s nothing keeping you. You’re free from the clutches of work. For today,” You emphasize that last part as a subtle threat.

Still, he continues to look at you skeptically — it’s almost like he wants you to hand him more work. “I mean it, go have fun. Take a break. Since when did you care so much about skipping work?” He can almost hear you muttering, “The privileges of being a rich bastard…” as you breathe a tired sigh.

It's true that Sylus's position affords him the privilege of passing up on the workday for his whims. Whether it be upgrading Mephisto, waiting on online auctions for vintage records, or in this case, a day out with the hunter.

It unnerves him, this side of you. Despite the stark gap in power between you, you’ve never failed to scold and banter with him, thumping him on the head more than a few times after he’d neglected the calendar. But lately, you’ve been almost… complacent with him, as if you’ve accepted something inevitable.

It's a jarring realization when he thinks about how little time he’s spent with you since the hunter’s return. Especially considering how close you had grown, how you’d spent almost every free moment with him before. A part of him knows that for one reason or another, you’ve kept your distance, and he hates it — but at the same time, the hunter was slowly opening her heart to him.

But were you really going to let him go this easily, on the eve of his birthday, when you clearly had something planned already? It was moments like these that made him wish for things to return to normal. (That made him wish to see the side of you that cared.)

“Fine,” He gives into the pleading eyes of the hunter, who cheers as he tosses her the keys. “Meet me in the garage. Careful not to go too wild, kitten.”

He shakes his head as she skips out of the room, catching one last look at you before muttering, “You two will be the death of me…” He leaves the office without looking back.

The evening is spent racing through the outskirts of the N109 Zone, wind and rain rushing past them as Sylus takes the opportunity to show off the motor’s maximum speed. She screams, and it echoes through the empty roads. Joyously carefree, still carrying the same fire and spirit she once held in their previous lives.

But, not everything was the same. The hunter’s life was by no means easy, but she grew up in a much kinder world than the sorceress, untouched by the horrors that he and her previous iteration were irrevocably changed by. Does he even want her to remember? Would it still be love if he forced her to relive those horrors?

His devotion to the sorceress has always been overwhelming, all-consuming. But in this life, he does not feel the same intense love, but more so a quiet affection, a desire to protect. And so, he’d rather the hunter live in peace. Never knowing the horrors of their past, even if it means that he’ll be forgotten, as well.

She urges him, “Go faster!” and he obliges with a smirk, revving up the engine to go at maximum speed. She cackles, letting go of his waist and letting her arms caress the midnight breeze. He can’t help but breathe an affectionate sigh — her dauntless, the opposite to your wariness on this very motorcycle.

Miss Secretary. His thoughts have once again spiralled back to you, a habit that’s slipped out of his control. He's always been unwavering in his desires, but your arrival had upended his world and the foundations of what he knew about himself. And now, he no longer knows where his heart lies.

He knows it’s not fair to either of you. He feels guilty for the hunter’s oblivious nature — clueless to what almost was (what could still be) between you and him. And for you, you have done your utmost best to keep the boundaries he wasn’t strong enough to.

He's a shameless man who’s never been afraid to take and take. But every time he sees the pain that his indecision — his choice — has caused you, he can’t help but tread carefully, wary of hurting you any more than he already has.

The clock strikes twelve, marking the beginning of April 18th. They return to a base shrouded in darkness, where they stumble around for the lights, only to be greeted by a garishly decorated living room and the twins dressed in red and black.

“Happy birthday, boss!” The twins blow party poppers as he walks into the living room, “Didn’t expect this, did ‘ya?”

He’d been so conflicted at leaving before his birthday, when little did he know, it was all an elaborate ruse to distract him while you and the twins decorated.

“…It seems I've been deceived.” This is the first time you have ever left him truly dumbfounded.

“Surprise!” The hunter slaps him on the back, a satisfied smirk on her face. “Did you really think I was bugging you for a ride out for nothing?”

“Well, not nothing, considering you commandeered the vehicle halfway through.” She swats at him playfully in response.

His eyes search for you, and just in time, you carefully step out of the kitchen, holding a two-tiered cake with a candle lit atop. What ensues is an off-tune rendition of happy birthday, as you step closer, careful not to extinguish the flames, “Make a wish, Sylus.” You smile.

Since the tragic end to his life as a dragon, he’s only ever had one wish. But this year, he hesitates.

For the first time, he wishes for something else. Something new and precious.

The flames dance in the wind before being snuffed with a single breath, smoke trailing with the promises of what’s to come.

Once again, you‘ve planned an elaborate celebration, just as you did the previous year. Something simple here at the base, but still catering to his preferences. From the tasteful red, black, and gold decorations, his favorite meals laid out on the dining table, and a pile of presents wrapped in a mishmash of patterns and ribbons.

When he takes the first bite of the cake, he lets out a hum of satisfaction, immediately noticing the gleam in the twins’ eyes.

“What, did you like it?” You smile at him cheekily, chewing through your own bite. “Luke and Kieran baked it, red velvet cheesecake with a bourbon coating.”

The hunter scowls, still not over their previous attack on her taste buds. “Oh, so Sylus gets a fancy, artisanal cake and I get toothpaste cookies?”

Kieran grins, lightly punching her shoulder, “Don’t worry, Miss Hunter. Just wait til’ it’s your birthday.”

”Yeah! We’re more than ready to top the last one," Luke chimes in, a sinister promise no one wants to hear.

Sylus's gaze follows the hunter throughout the night. It’s the closest he’ll ever get to closure, he thinks, seeing her slot into his close circle (family) like a perfect puzzle piece, celebrating a day that never mattered to him until they made it matter. In their previous life, they had never been afforded the time or peace to celebrate these mundane milestones.

But despite the jovial atmosphere, his eyes can’t stray from your strange mood. You do a good job of pretending that everything is alright, going about the motions and matching the merry of the occasion. But though you may be able to fool others, you can’t fool him. After the party has come to an end, he doesn’t leave your side — determined to know what’s been bothering you.

“Hey, no cleaning for the birthday celebrant!” You lightly shoo him away with the broom as he tries to take over cleaning the living room.

“Oh? I say the birthday celebrant gets to decide that for himself,” He easily swipes the broom from your hands, and you huff, relegated to picking up the wrapping paper strewn about the floor.

“Stubborn bastard,” You mutter under your breath.

“A little louder, dear. I couldn't hear you.” You scowl at him and he laughs, “I can't let you do all the work, no? What kind of boss would I be, then? Tsk, if only you had just left it to the cleaners like I told you to.”

Still, you resolve to finish cleaning. It’s a bit comical seeing him with a broom and dustpan, and on his birthday, of all days. Still, you assert that it would be too rude to leave all this work for the cleaners’ shift come morning. With the two of you working at it, by the time the hour’s up you wouldn’t have been able to tell a celebration occurred.

“Let's go to the rooftop,” Sylus suggests, after taking out the trash. “I feel like taking a breath of fresh air.”

The two of you walk up the familiar staircase to the rooftop, the highest point in the N109 Zone, where you’ve spent many nights deprived of sleep and spilling your deepest fears and nightmares.

“Watch your head.”

“What are you— ow!” You bump your head on a new exit sign that hadn’t been there the last time you came.

He laughs breathily, rubbing your forehead with his thumb after he perfectly ducks under the sign. “I did warn you.”

“It feels like forever since we’ve been up here.”

“It's also been quite a while since I’ve seen you.”

You laugh shakily, “What are you talking about? We’re in the office every day…”

“Don’t act like you don’t understand, it’s unbecoming of your intelligence,” He brushes a stray hair from your face.

“Well, what can I say? We’ve all been so busy lately… But you seem happy, though.” He remains silent, so you continue, “You’ve waited so long to reunite with her. I've never believed in soulmates or anything like that, but for you two, I just might. I’m happy for you,” A timid smile paints your face, and he can’t tell if it’s out of bitterness or soft appreciation.

He doesn’t know how to feel, receiving your approval — feigned as it may be. “If that's so, do you believe it for yourself?” You look at him strangely. “Do you think you could have a soulmate?”

The question seems to weigh heavily on your mind as you look away, dangling your feet aimlessly, “Maybe so… But I like to think that love is a choice. Something that’s earned, built up over time. That's the kind of love that I want, at least.”

His heart has been conflicted for so long — but all of a sudden, you feel unreachable, slipping from his grasp into a territory uncharted. (All of a sudden, he wants to give you everything you wish for.)

“It's been a while since we’ve talked like this. It’s nice being able to spend time with you again.” You stand up, brushing non-existent dirt off your thighs. “But I better head to bed.”

It’s a lie, you both know you’ll spend the night tossing and turning into the hours of the night; so he tries to push at the walls you’ve put up. “Come on, dear. It's my birthday. Just grace me with your presence for a few more minutes…”

He tries not to sound desperate, but all he wants to do is reverse time, to return to a period where you weren’t wary of spending time with him. He'd been spoiled by the affection and friendship you once offered so freely, and now he couldn’t bear this distance you stubbornly held in place.

He reaches to grab your hand, but you pull yours away.

You hesitate before turning around, “I'm sorry, Sylus. But maybe another night.” Your voice is soft as you say good night, his eyes stuck on the image of you walking further away until you disappear from sight.

He wants so badly to pull you back, yearns to grab your hand once again, to feel the warmth of your palm against his. But he knows he has no right to. The presence of the hunter a few doors over says it all, says his choice. He can’t bear to hurt you any more than he already has. But at the same time, he can’t bear to lose you.

So instead, he watches you walk away, knowing that he’s chosen the hunter, his soulmate. But a part of his heart continues to yell at him, telling him he’s making a grave mistake.

—————————————————————

You don’t think you’ll ever get used to the overstimulating atmosphere of the underground ring. The flashing lights, the all-consuming noise in the hours before a match starts. It's been months since you’ve been here, but it’s clear that anticipation runs high in the crowds, with this being Sylus's first game since last year’s loss.

You sniffle, holding back a sneeze as you approach the ring with a bouquet of flowers, waiting patiently for Sylus to break from his pre-game focus as the coach gives him a last minute pep talk.

His eyes eventually drift over to you as he takes a sip of water, “Oh? Look who showed up." He smirks at you, arms leaning against the barrier, “And here I thought you’d be a no-show after last year’s disappointment.”

“What can I say? It’s a crime to pass up on an easy bet.”

“I'm touched by your faith in me,” Unlike his words, his tone is deadpan.

You mockingly scoff, “Who said I placed my bets on you?” You say this, but both of you know who you’re rooting for. “I just thought I might as well wish you good luck, considering I used my PTO on this.”

“Trust me, dear.” His smirk is one of confidence, as he leans past the barrier, face inching towards yours. “By the end of the night, there’ll be a new champion reigning this ring.”

A sudden screech comes from behind — some sort of ongoing venue prep — and your face scrunches up, another headache coursing through you.

“Are you okay?” His brows furrow as he calls your name, concerned at the deep circles under your eyes, the pale sheen to your face. “Maybe you should sit down. You don’t look well.”

“I'll be fine,” You wave him off, “It’s just a headache. I can champ through it.”

“But is it wise for you to stand in these crowds?” He removes his glove, pressing a hand against your forehead. “Go sit down in the locker room, they’ll be airing the match inside. I don't need you in the stands to know you’re supporting me.”

The increasing dizziness you feel is the only reason why you nod, picking up your things and doing as told without so much as a fight. His eyes follow your sluggish form until you make it past his sight, settling inside the rundown locker room to watch alongside other competitors and coaches.

Even though you’ve been continuously sneezing and feel like knocking out, you’re on your toes the entire match, even from the low quality screen delegated to the locker room. The crowd is just as enthusiastic, roaring for his revenge match. You know nothing about boxing, but even you can tell from the first few minutes alone that he’s doing well, performing better than he ever was as the cheers of the crowd pound through to the walls of this secluded room. The camera shifts as he overtakes his opponent — and that’s when you see it, a glimpse of the hunter cheering at the front row.

You already expected her presence, was anticipating to sit by her side as the both of you cheered Sylus on. But a part of you feels sick, lightheaded, progressively dizzier as the match continues. Not just because of the hunter’s arrival, or the anxiety of seeing Sylus getting socked in the face — you realize as you feel the bile rising up your throat.

The match ends as you walk out of the bathroom, contents of your stomach flushed down the toilet. You missed the final blow, the crowning moment, the television having switched to an interview. His voice fills the room, the audio muffled and crackly, “Someone came all the way here to watch me. Said she didn’t want to see me lose.”

You recognize that look of adoration, reserved only for the hunter. And once again, you feel your stomach lurch.

It's a weak moment for you — you want to stay, to cheer him on as his friend and supporter (the only things you were and would ever be to him). But it was too much for you, seeing her take the place that maybe, in another life, could have been yours.

You guiltily leave the bouquet in the locker rooms, slipping away easily into the swarm of crowds leaving the venue. You pass by the ring as you make your way to the exit, seeing him at the edge of the barricade, swarmed by reporters.

In the ring, he shines like a star far out of your reach.

Was this penance for your pride? For believing you could take the spot of someone who was long destined to be by his side? The last image you see is of his arm wrapped around her waist, lips pressed to her forehead — his attention, his gravity, tethered to her.

You leave the underground stadium guilt-free, feeling a little silly for having doubts about your departure affecting him. You realize that no matter what you do, he’ll be fine.

He has the hunter now.

—————————————————————

The moment he steps out of the ring, lights flashing and reporters crowding to get his interview — the first thing he sees is the hunter, standing front row in the bleachers, cheering him on with her fist in the air. His arm stays around her waist as they celebrate his win, answering nosy interviewers and being crowned with the champion’s ring.

He should be filled with nothing but happiness, satisfaction. But right now, all he could think of was finding you.

He fiddles with the champion’s ring, a nervous tic he’d never dare show to the naked eye as he makes his way to the locker room, where he finds an intricate bouquet of flowers and a congratulatory note, written in your familiar penmanship.

It seems his greed had become far too overwhelming.

Faced with all his wishes coming true, he still yearns for more. Everything he ever wanted was coming together, but none of it felt right — not with your absence creating a gaping void in a picture perfect image.

Disheartened by your absence, the dim mood follows him as he returns to a quiet home. He carefully steps inside, your snores filling the space as he finds you sprawled on the living room couch, still dressed in your outside clothes, skin dull and face tightened in discomfort.

He lifts you up, beginning the trek to your bedroom to let you sleep away the rest of the night, only for you to stir awake in his arms. “Sylus?” You peek at him through bleary eyes, “You’re home…”

He places the back of his hand against your forehead, “You’re burning up. Did you take any medicine before falling asleep?”

“I'm sorry I couldn’t stay for the match…” In your drowsy state, you don’t hear his question, instead nuzzling your head into his chest. He savors the feeling of your warmth. “Did you get my flowers?”

“I did. They were a beautiful choice.”

“That's good. You deserve only the best, after all.” Your voice is a little breathy, soft and tender in ways you never reveal to him anymore — and he couldn’t help but be a little lovestruck.

“You know just how to flatter me, don’t you?” He lays you down gently, tucking the covers over your form, as he musters the courage to follow through with his thoughts. “But since you brought me flowers, I should give something in thanks.”

He slides the champion’s ring off his finger, delicately placing it in your palm, closing your fingers over it. “I believe this should be yours.”

“Sylus, what is this?” Your face is still unnaturally pale, but you seem more lucid now, staring at the ring with an unreadable expression on your face.

“There's only one reason I left as a champion today, and she’s standing right in front of me.” His eyes are glued intently to yours, water still streaking from his hair after the quick shower he took before leaving. “Last year’s match was a blow to my pride, I'll admit. But how could I ever stay down with you by my side?”

It’s rare for him to display his fondness on a silver platter — not painted in wit or banter, but with the clarity of an open window into his heart. But something about you wills him to take steps he never has before.

You stay silent for an unnerving amount of time, turning away from him, overwhelmed by the depth of his gaze. Your face contorts into a fractured smile, “I think we both know who you should really give this to.

He stares at the ring, refusing to take it from your outstretched hand. a strained laugh leaves his lips. He gently grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him once again, “You won’t even accept gifts from me, now? How much will you pull away from me before you’re satisfied?”

“I can't accept this, and you know why.”

He knows. Just like he knows why you stray from his touch, why you avoid his gaze. He knows, but he refuses to accept it.

“I went into this match for you. I won it for you, not the hunter.” A frantic sort of grief fills his features, imploring you to open your heart to him. “So why is it that you keep telling me to run to her? What makes you believe you’re undeserving?”

“Because it shouldn’t be me. I just—” The words fail to form on your tongue, twisting and turning until the intention is lost. “Please, sylus. I can't do this right now.”

“I didn't think your cowardice was stronger than our friendship.”

You come to an abrupt still, your eyes glazing over in stifled shock. “Well, I'm sorry to have disappointed you.”

Regret immediately courses through him as he realizes the harshness of his words, and the guardedness of your tone. He hates causing you hurt or pain, but he can no longer bear to ignore the distance that's grown between you. (But does he even have the right to confront you about it? When he knows his actions are the root cause.)

“We can't hide from this forever, so why won’t you just talk to me?” He's just about ready to beg for you to look at him again, to talk to him again, without the inhibitions that separate you now.

You take a deep breath, a hundred thoughts running through your mind before you settle on simple words, “Because things can’t go back to normal, and I don't know if they ever will.” You turn around, effectively ending the conversation and drawing that dreaded line. “I'd like to be alone now, please.”

It’s not irreparable; at least, you don’t think so. But regardless of the place the hunter now holds in your life, you had crossed a turning point in your relationship, one that made it impossible to turn back. This was the price of his choice; he couldn’t have his cake and eat it, too.

Despite how much he wants to confront you, more than anything he wants to respect the boundaries you’ve set in place. And so, Sylus is left to stew in his thoughts in the living room, fiddling with the ring and wondering why he wouldn’t just give the ring to the hunter. Why he caused all of this mess. (He knows exactly why.)

The bond he had with the hunter transcended lifetimes, giving his soul a first taste of human connection and love. He grasped at the seams of that bond, holding on for dear life and desperately seeking the peace they were never afforded. But your arrival broke the monotony of his days, and in the process, treated him to that connection, that genuine acceptance and care so freely. You easily slotted into his life, and now that you were trying to walk away — he couldn’t just bear to let you go.

He may have fallen in love with the sorceress in their previous life, but now, it was time to face his current reality.

In this world, his heart had chosen you.

—————————————————————

You feel like you're being replaced, being pushed out of the picture you were never meant to be captured in.

For the longest time, you’ve felt the petty urge to hate the hunter. To pick out her flaws and shortcomings to make yourself feel better. But that wouldn’t be fair to her, who’s done nothing but unknowingly capture Sylus's heart. And it would only fan the flames of bitterness and hurt that were already burning inside you.

You stomp at the petty jealousy taking root in your heart — because what right do you have to feel that way? What right do you have to mourn a love that was never yours to begin with?

You feel rather foolish. You thought you knew what his affection felt like, but it was nothing compared to seeing his devotion. You never believed in soulmates — but how could you deny the cosmic connection before your very eyes? Like a planet and its moon, they orbit each other — his harsh edges softening in her presence.

Sylus gave you hope for a future in this world. But to him, you must be just one of many, a buffer while he waits for his lover to finally come along in this life. He was someone who had never known peace, never known the warmth of love before he met her. In the grand scheme of things, what was your rust to her gold?

These fantasies have become fatal, cutting open old wounds and deeply hidden thoughts. Never have you felt so untethered. No place where you belonged, no place to call home, no connection that was meant to be truly yours. Your world had been shrouded in static in the wake of losing your loved ones, life becoming grainy and distant in your grief. The loneliness had been dampened by new connections, by a blossoming love, but was now coming back in full force as you watch the image of how it should be, without you.

You were never meant to be here.

(Thus, it was only right to return things to how they should be.)

—————————————————————

Thunder rolls in, casting gloomy skies over the N109 Zone. it’s one of those days where you can’t muster up the energy to do anything but curl up on the couch with a blanket, paperwork left forgotten on the coffee table, watching raindrops dart against the tall windows overlooking the city.

The twins are similarly sprawled across the living room floor. With Sylus and Mephisto out on a mission, it’s just the three of you in the penthouse, spending the last of the spring showers working by the warmth of the fireplace, before humid summer storms take over.

The dreary atmosphere did nothing to quell the persistent grief that weighed heavily in your chest. Not even the comforting presence of Luke and Kieran could muster a smile on your face, these days.

Your eyelids start to flutter, the movie and the twins’ chatter becoming hazy as you drift into slumber, where once again, you dream of home.

You find yourself thinking about home much more, nowadays. You miss the sun, you miss the food, the warmth of company (the lack of doubt of your belongingness). But as always, you wake up to the cars and gunshots typical of the N109 Zone, the rain having slowed to a soft drizzle, pattering against the window.

You spend a little while with your eyes closed, savoring the taste of home only a dream can capture, a feeling that slips through your fingers before you can truly grasp it. And once again, you wish for a clue, a hint, an answer to a way back home.

Little did you know how soon this wish would be granted.

You stretch your arms out, coming to a slow rise from the couch, remembering the pile of paperwork that awaited you on the coffee table. You sigh as you see the other half; it seems the twins hadn’t gotten much done either, their papers getting mixed up with yours during your short nap. you take quick, mindless glances at the papers — your events and supply documentation, the twins’ mission reports — as you sort through them.

One in particular slides out from the pile, and you pick it up, intending to place it on their side of the table — only to stop in your tracks, catching a single phrase. Dimensional travel.

You shouldn’t be snooping. As Sylus's secretary, you’re already privy to most of the ongoings in Onychinus. You know that if something’s been kept from you, it’s for a reason. But as your mind flits over all the dead ends you’ve run into in your search to go home, you think — what’s the harm in taking a look?

Your blood stills.

What greets you is the twins’ hasty scrawl, recounting their findings as they led a reconnaissance mission at an EVER lab on the outskirts of the N109 Zone. Test subjects who were found in public, on the brink of death. Who spoke of “other worlds.” Unfortunate individuals who were found somewhere more public, deemed a nutcase, and left vulnerable to the hands of EVER. In Kieran’s more formal penmanship are the words, “These findings are supported by the classified dimensional travel studies at Prestara University…”

And when you see the date of the mission — it’s from the previous year.

Why did no one tell you about this?

All of you were smart enough to connect the dots. Near-death experiences, tales of other worlds. Here you were, searching on what seemed to be a fool’s errand, when the people you slept under the same roof with held the very answers you’d been so desperately seeking.

An eerie feeling settles over you (you don’t want to name it as betrayal) as you look over the papers, reading them over and over, thinking there’s no way this had been just out of reach, all these months.

On the dot, the twins return to the living room with bags of snacks in their arms, Luke with his typical cheer as Kieran stills, seeing the papers in your hand. “Miss Secretary, you’re finally awake. Do you want a snack —”

“What is this?” You cut him off, uncharacteristically stoic as you raise up the stapled reports, still reeling from shock at the words you’ve just read. “Your mission reports… These are from a year ago. Why didn’t I know about this?

The two worriedly look at each other in silent communication, before you ask again, fed up with the lies and secrecy. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Luke, she read the reports. She knows.”

“But the boss said — Fine. But don’t blame me when this ends badly.” He sighs before giving in, turning to look you in the eye. “I think it’s better if we show you. But… Please don’t be mad at the boss.”

“No more than you already are,” Kieran adds, and you look at him skeptically. “We know you two are fighting. It’s been torture seeing you guys mope! The boss has been burying everyone in work and you… You’ve been a shell of yourself.”

You open your mouth, ready to spout excuses, but he interrupts you. “Don’t deny it, we can see it for ourselves. Especially with the way the boss has been grovelling.”

“Sylus has not been grovelling. He has better things to do with his time.” You roll your eyes, but they continue to stare at you in doubt, until you sigh and let up.

“Alright. so we may have had a… slight disagreement. But really, I've just been in a funk. A little homesick, and a little actually sick. That's all. But you know what will help me?” You raise up the reports once again, flipping to the research page. “Show me these case studies. Show me everything there is to know about this.”

“Well, we tried.” Kieran lets out a tired exhale, “If knowing this will help you, then we’ll do it.”

The twins lead you into their wing of the penthouse, a territory you never dared to venture unless it was dire circumstances— which it very well feels like it is now.

“Welcome to our little abode!” Luke cheers as he swings the doors open.

“Oh, how… charming.”

You tiptoe around the communal living area, unable to distinguish what is a weapon for Onychinus and a personal invention they’ve made for an elaborate prank. Frankly, it’s a mess. Apparently teenage boys are the same type of disgusting in any universe, you cringe as you find a smelly article of clothing on his desk that's definitely overdue for a wash. Only the promise of answers holds back your urge to hand these kids a broom and force them to clean.

“Over here’s my desk. Go wild, I guess. I'll be in the other room if you need anything.”

Your heart races as you’re left to your own devices, inputting the related mission code — and there it is. A wealth of information answering the questions you’ve had.

You skim over the articles, all from the same research team, studying the phenomenon of dimensional travelers, as they’ve so aptly put it, and their possible connection to the Deepspace Tunnel.

But the most damning implication of them all, was that there was a way for you to return home. The researchers are positive they’re close to a breakthrough, they write, as they cite the commonalities between these travelers. If a close encounter with death is what brought them all here, then it only makes sense it can bring them back.

But this is where the trail ends. The last article ends with the researchers discussing potential experimentation — the risks of being lost in the unknown boundary between worlds, ripped to shreds by the force of gravity, or better yet — just dying. With it, your hope dims.

But it’s something. Nothing concrete, but enough to prove you weren’t crazy. Enough to have hope. Enough to try.

But the question remains… how could this have possibly slipped past you? You’ve researched every corner of info available to you in the Onychinus database.

As Sylus's secretary, you’re granted the privileges to access almost everything in Onychinus, including the information databases which contain a wealth of information from various sources (legally and illegally obtained, many inaccessible to the public yet). And when you check the status of the articles — you see that your access has been blacklisted.

As it was, there was only one person in Onychinus with the power to do this.

“Sylus put you up to this, didn’t he?” When your eyes turn to Luke in question, he only nods grimly in confirmation.

“The boss asked us to keep it from you,” He almost looks like a sad puppy wagging his tail, trying to appease your increasingly irate mood. “He was only worried about what you might do if you found out about this.”

“He should’ve worried about what I’d do if you kept this from me.” You spat bitterly, and immediately, guilt coils through you for misplacing this anger on Luke. The twins might have been in on it, but despite all their mischief, they would never have had the heart to lie to you. No, this was all Sylus's doing.

You walk away, as overwhelming waves of betrayal course through you. You don’t want to make assumptions, but there is no other possible truth. It’s almost uncharacteristic of him, you think. He's always supported whatever you wanted to do. So why would he do this now?

Why hide the answers that would lead you back home?

And if he hid this from you, what else could he be hiding?

These thoughts continue to plague you into the late hours of the night. Hours of tossing and turning in the sheets, before giving up on slumber entirely. Before, you would tiptoe in the marbled halls in search of laughter and company. But things were no longer the same. Now, you lock yourself in silence, refusing to bare any more of your heart.

But there still comes some nights such as now, when you can’t stifle the dark creeping in. Like a sheep heading into the wolves’ den, you tiptoe out of your bedroom, making your way to the kitchen where you cope as you always have: by baking.

As you pull out the ingredients, Sylus eventually comes strolling in, as if he had a sixth sense to your presence.

“Can’t sleep again?” He asks groggily. Hair mussed and robe crumpled, it was clear he had already been in bed. His tone is careful, still tiptoeing around you after the mess of a conversation you last had after the match.

You nod tiredly, “Too much to think about.” You’re being uncharacteristically cold to him, not even turning around or looking at him in acknowledgement. But if he notices, he doesn’t show it.

All you want is a moment alone. But already, he’s coming far too close to you — invading your space like he’s entitled to it, when all you want is to be as far away from him as possible.

“Let me help you.” He says, grabbing the bowl from behind you and rolling a whisk in his other hand. “It'll just be like old times, don’t you think? Miss Baker, with her apprentice running the ovens.”

You can’t help the anger simmering beneath you as you slam the cupboards closed, alarming him. Can you not get one moment of peace in this fucking household? “You know what? I think I'll just go to bed, actually.”

He lets out a breath of frustration. "Alright, it’s clear that there’s a problem here.” He grabs your hand to stop you from leaving, only for you to rip it from his grasp. He steps back, “I admit that I said some hurtful things before, and I'd like to apologize properly. But can we sit down and talk about this like civilized people?”

You know it’s wrong to lash out like this, but this betrayal had you reeling and acting out impulsively. A crash-out long in the works, tipped over by your recent revelation. “Always one to ask forgiveness rather than permission, aren’t you?”

“What?” He pinches the bridge of his nose, utterly confused. “I don't know why you continually insist on shutting me out — but I assure you, nothing productive will come out of this.”

A bitter laugh escapes you, “Well, I don’t know why you insist on lying to me. But I'm not the one asking questions here.”

“What are you talking about?” His blood runs cold, gaze steely as he begins to tread carefully through this volley of words.

“Did you think I'd never find out about the information you hid from me? That you ordered Luke and Kieran to lie to me about? How much have you hidden from me?” You seethe, the words spilling out of you like an overflowing kettle.

His silence says it all.

“Gosh, I guess it figures.” You don’t know whether to laugh in irony or cry in defeat. “The one person I trusted the most turned out to be a lying bastard… I don't know why I expected any better from you.”

Sometimes you forget the person Sylus truly is, beyond the softness he’s shown to you in confidence. He may be flowing with unspoken affection for those he cares for, but in the end, he was still a criminal. The leader of the world’s most notorious crime syndicate, gifted in the art of deceit.

But despite this, Sylus was still the person who took you in when you had nowhere else to go. The one person you trusted more than anyone in this world. Although his blossoming relationship with the hunter sprouted thorns over your friendship, you thought that you’d at least have total honesty.

But your expectations crumble into disappointment.

Sylus treats this exchange flippantly, at first, trying to stave off a fight he doesn’t want to have. But you’re so frustrated, you can’t even look him in the eye. Though his face gives away nothing, a storm was brewing inside as the consequences of his actions dawned on him.

And so, he decides to tell you the truth.

He whispers your name carefully, like an apology in itself. “I'm sorry I lied to you. It was never my intention to deceive you, or to hold you back from finding answers — but I know I've hurt you nonetheless. But please, let’s not fight about this. Let me explain myself, first.”

You turn to him, waiting for an answer that will resolve the hurt in your heart.

He doesn't know where to begin, so he starts with an explanation.

When you first arrived, Sylus had done the research. Tried to find a way to send you — this anomaly who’d landed in his backyard — back to where she belonged. But all he could find were dead ends. As far as he knew, there was no way to send you back. You, this stranger, who he wanted out of his life. (Oh, how the thought hurts him now.)

Almost a year later, when the dimensional travel research came in — he immediately marked it as classified. A spur of the moment decision, where he blocked off your access to these files in fear of you discovering them. He excuses it as the danger, the potential recklessness that might possess you in the face of this revelation.

But the truth was: you were no longer just a stranger, you were Miss Secretary. A core part of his life, regardless of the short time you’d been here. Maybe if he was less in-deep, if the reality of you slipping from his grasp wasn’t so tangible, he wouldn’t have resorted to deceit. But as it was, there was no way he was letting you go now.

After all, the fear of lying to you was nothing compared to the fear of losing you forever. (But now, he may just lose you because of it.)

His explanations ring through your head, but all you hear are excuses. You fire back, words slow and tense like a string stretched thin. “You think you’re always right, but you’re not. That's not an excuse to withhold this from me. Living in the N109 Zone is a danger in itself, so what’s so different about this?”

He scoffs, “The difference is that here, you are by my side. Do you think I can't protect you?”

“It's not your responsibility to protect me. In fact, I've long overstayed my welcome here.”

“Says who?” His eyes stare intently into yours, as he opens his arms, “Look around, dear. The only person who wants you to leave is you.”

He shakes his head, frustrated, “Do you even understand what could happen to you if you pursue this path? This not only blurs the boundary between our worlds, but the boundary between life and death. You could die before ever seeing a glimpse of your old world,” A frantic panic shadows his eyes as he moves forward, shaking you by the shoulders, almost begging you not to do this.

“At least I'd finally have some peace!” You spat out like a bullet that’s been lodged in your chest, a truth so hard to bear. Every day in this world has been an uphill battle, and no connection — whether familial or romantic — could make up for everything you had lost, or the closure you had seeked.

“You don’t mean that.” He murmurs in disbelief, the broken look on his face enough to have your shoulders slumped in guilt.

He tries — you know he does — to close the distance that you have placed. But a sadistic part of you likes to see him hurt, likes to see him struggle to repair what he unintentionally broke. But the other part of you just wants to spare yourself from any more hurt.

You’ve never been the type to cling to your pride, but not even you can acquiesce to this when you feel so wronged.

“Do you even understand what this information means to me?” Your voice trembles in desperation, “You don’t know what it’s like to lose everything. I cared about my life. I had dreams, I had plans! My family and friends, they all probably think I’m missing or dead — when I'm just here, trying to get back to them. Yet you have the audacity to pretend like you did this for my sake?”

To him, your arrival was a miracle. Another surprise fate had thrown his way, something he was determined not to let slip from his grasp this time around.

But to you, your arrival in this world was your greatest tragedy.

In spite of it all, he puts his foot down, refusing to put your life on the line. “No, this is where I draw the line. You will not be pursuing this — this death wish, and that’s final.” He doesn’t realize how tightly he’s gripped your shoulders until he steps back from the sheer betrayal in your eyes.

For the first time, you look at him as if he were no more than a stranger. Like you didn’t know him, hadn’t held him in your arms in his lowest moments. He could handle the hunter’s anger and distrust, your distance and aloofness. But your fear? It breaks him.

Still, he swallows this heartbreak in favor of your safety. “Ignore me, hate me — I'm willing to put up with all of it so long as you don’t hurt yourself.”

“Well, what fucking choice do I have when you control everything in this goddamned place?” You close your eyes and laugh bitterly, whispering, “I guess I never knew you as well as I thought I did.”

You walk away, and he knows better than to chase you.

All this time, you had felt guilty for hurting him with your distance, for being an obstacle in the space that was meant for the hunter. Meanwhile, he had been the one barricading you from going back. But why? You cannot comprehend as to why he would be selfish enough to try and keep you here, not when he has everything he’s ever wanted.

Your thoughts continue to spiral as you return to your room– and for the first time, you feel more peace in the silence than in his company.

—————————————————————

He sits in the kitchen until early noon, stewing in disappointment and anger towards himself.

Sylus is hailed for his ability to read people. His target’s desires, his enemy’s weaknesses, his loved ones’ needs. Yet when it comes to you, he finds himself lost at sea, in conflict with himself in a way he hasn’t been since he was unused to the world and its dangers.

For the past millennia, he’d had a clear focus, a clear goal — until you strolled in and completely upended his world and everything he thought he knew.

And what’s worse? He would let you do it as many times as you wanted.

He knows this won’t be resolved so easily. Both of you are the type whose true feelings cannot be encapsulated by mere words. And when the storm inevitably rolls in, he’s afraid of what might be lost in the collateral. Because now, he was far too gone.

Losing the sorceress had nearly broken him once, sent him on a search that had clouded his realization of the place you’d taken in his heart. The realization that he couldn’t bear to live without those mundane moments with you.

He knows, here and now, that he needs to fix this. Right his wrongs, clear things with the hunter, and maybe beg at your feet for you to look at him kindly again, after all he’s done to push you away. Before it's too late and he lets love slip from his grasp once again.

—————————————————————

The ballroom is lit under the warm glow of the numerous chandeliers, casting light over your stone cold face. The opulent celebration — a business partner’s 40th wedding anniversary — was a complete juxtaposition to the storm raging inside you, uncaring to be approachable as you swirl your wine.

In a twist of cruel irony, another event had delegated Sylus to bring a partner for the evening.

“We'll be leaving at 8 o’clock. Use my card for the dress — and treat yourself, while you’re at it.” He informed you, placing one of his cards on your desk along with the invitation. You raised an eyebrow in skepticism, he never spared time for frivolous events such as anniversaries, especially for people he barely knew.

“What, the hunter wasn’t free this time around?” You can’t help but ask, the snark evident in your tone.

He sighs and walks away, not even deigning that with a response. “Don’t be late.”

You shove the invite into a drawer, fully intent on ditching him. But alas — he added it to the calendar himself.

You were expecting him to hand you another half-hearted apology, to add to the growing pile that was already accumulating. Apology flowers left at your desk, paperwork submitted on time, deliveries of chocolates and your favorite food at the office, as his eyes suspiciously don’t meet yours.

“If you think you can bribe me with material things, then you don’t know me very well,” You bitterly threw these words at him then, before clocking out for the day. But Sylus was never one to give up easily.

Throughout the night, you feel the constant prickle of eyes on your back. At first, you assume it’s because of past events, people’s curiosity towards the secretary Sylus was so quick to defend. Your insecurity has you turning around each time — only to meet your employer’s gaze across the room, his eyes lingering on you even with the conversation in front of him. You scoff and look away.

Eventually, he approaches you with your coat in hand, “I believe it’s time to take our leave.”

“So early?” You reply, your words short and cutting when it's necessary to speak.

“This night has already proven to be a disappointment. No reason to waste any more of our time.”

“I'll call for the driver then,” You’re about to dial when he plucks your phone out of your hand.

“No need, I've already given him the night off. I'll be the one driving us home.” You squawk in indignance. Once again, this man has managed to corner you into a situation where you can’t escape him. “But, dinner first, shall we?” He extends a hand, which you resolutely walk past.

This seething ignorance follows him the whole way to the restaurant, into the dimly lit private room where the two of you are seated. Had it been any other occasion, you would’ve taken the time to appreciate the florals adorning the tables, the band playing jazz in the corner, and the delicious food. But your anger clouds your enjoyment, as you channel your frustrations into blindly ordering the most expensive items on the menu.

It isn’t until you’re about halfway through the meal and down one bottle of wine when he finally gets you to speak up, “You can’t stay mad at me forever, darling.”

You take a heavy breath through your nose, “Maybe not, but I can certainly try.” You take another sip of your wine, burying your hurt and sorrow into another bottle.

“You should realize that I'll do whatever it takes to earn your forgiveness.”

“You broke my trust. You lied by omission, letting me continue on a wild goose chase when you were withholding the answers. Pretty words and extravagant gifts aren’t enough to earn my trust again.”

He gently reaches for your hand, threading his fingers through yours. “I know that, and I'm willing to do it all to earn your forgiveness. Not only for my deception, but all your hurts that have gone unnoticed.”

It’s too much, your chest feels too heavy with all that’s bearing down on you. Your voice takes a shaky note, “Sylus, all I want is to go home. That’s it.”

You put up the boundaries he never had the heart to, kept your heart at bay for both of your sakes. But now, he wants to pry open your walls, to reveal the fears that plague you at night.

“I know, dear. I know. And if that’s what you truly want, then I promise to do everything in my power to help you —- so long as it doesn’t result in you getting hurt.” He looks into your eyes, grasping your hand tightly, “All I want is for you to feel safe in confiding in me again — to share your worries, your fears, as you once did. Allow me to carry the weight of your grief with you.”

He knows how much your arrival in this world hurt you, and he carries the guilt of being selfish enough to keep you here despite that.

“I can't anymore. It hurts too much to confide in you, to have a taste of what I know I'll never have. What we’ll never be.” You don’t know what possesses you to admit this yearning. Maybe the intoxication from the wine. Maybe his pleading eyes, or his sweet talk, saying all the right words you’ve wanted to hear for the longest time. But you don’t have any fight left in you to keep your distance.

“What you can’t have? Darling, I would lay the world at your feet, if that was your wish,” He strokes your cheek with an intimacy surpassing friendship — but you haven’t been just friends in a while, have you?

Maybe you both drank a little too much, scooted a little too close in the booth, got too caught up in each other's presence (something you've both been starved of for a while). You don’t know who moved first — but one of you ends up breaking.

You share a starved kiss, hidden under the privacy of dim lights. All at once, the chatter of the restaurant and the rushing of cars dissipate, and all that's left in this universe is you and him and cosmic dust, orbiting around each other.

He explores your mouth, brows furrowed, hands gripping your waist and pulling you to his lap — as if he could meld the two of you by the flesh. It’s like a taste of heaven on your lips, tasting what you had yearned for, denied yourself for so long.

And for a moment you think: what was stopping you from being together? What was so wrong with this connection — so powerful that it wracked your body with shivers and tethered your soul to his presence?

And then you remember: the hunter.

The reality of what's happening dawns on you, your eyes widening mid-kiss as you abruptly push him away, leaving him stunned; his tie crooked, lipstick staining the corner of his lips.

Your hands tremble, still hazy from that searing kiss as you try to hold back the tears welling at your eyes, “Sylus —” You choke on your tears, unable to form the words.

He grasps your face, breathing your name, trying to make sense of what just happened.

“Sylus, oh god, what did we just do? I — fuck, what about the hunter?”

You run outside the private room, the voices of the restaurant and servers fading in the distance as you hastily escape from the implications of what you’ve just done. You try to hail a taxi when he catches up to you, calling your name.

He may be in front of you but all you see is the hunter, her face riddled with betrayal and hurt. Unlabeled as their relationship may be, she’s just spent the past few weeks opening her heart to someone only for it to be betrayed. By a new friend, at that.

You don’t know what possessed you to kiss him back, to deepen it and lose yourself in his lips. Love struck your head, ridding you of logic. Made you give in to the sin of yearning for something that isn’t yours. And now, you were facing the guilty consequences.

“Sylus, we’ve done enough. Please, let’s just forget that any of this ever happened —-”

You’re cut off by his hollow laugh, his chin tilting down for his eyes to stare directly into yours. “You don’t know what you’re asking of me.”

“This is gonna ruin everything you’ve wished for, don’t you see?” You’re desperate for him to see the wrongdoing in your actions.

“No, it’s you who doesn’t see what’s in front of you.” He grasps your wrist, pressing it to his chest, gentle in a way that doesn’t match the fire in his eyes. “Do you feel this heart? It races in your presence, melts at your touch — and if you disappeared? Well, it would simply stop beating.”

His other hand rests on your clavicle, fiddling with the necklace that has remained on your neck since the night of your birthday. He's a man who never says please, but for you he’ll get on his knees and plead.

His words, such heartfelt words that want to make you give in to all of his wishes are one thing. But his actions are another. You’ve witnessed firsthand the way he looks at her, melts in her presence. And you’re not ignorant to how she feels for him now, once heated frustration turning into the adoration she feels now.

“How could I ever believe what you’re saying?” You feel almost hysterical, with the weight of your emotions crashing down on you. “You’re telling me that you’ve waited hundreds of years for the love of your life, the person bonded to your soul, and you’re going to push it all away for some fleeting connection?”

“Don’t reduce it to something as frivolous as that,” His face darkens, and he grips your hand tighter. “You know that what we have runs deeper than both of us can describe.”

”But what is it to a soulmate?” Your voice is despondent, resigned, “What is this compared to a bond transcending time and space? I know that regardless of what happens here, you’ll choose her. I know that very well, Sylus.” Your voice breaks as you reach your tipping point.

His heart stills, because he himself doesn’t know what he can say to prove himself.

“Please don’t cry,” His voice softens at the sight of tears welling in your eyes, becoming all but putty in your hands. As of this moment, he knows there’s no convincing you, no making you believe that his words ring sincere and true. But he still can’t help but motion to wipe your tears, until you harshly block his hand.

The sorceress and the traveler, Miss Hunter and Miss Secretary. The dragon resting inside of him couldn’t bear to let go of his mate — after all, what was a centuries-old love compared to a new, fleeting connection? But the threads of fate had woven together to bring you to him, and the man he was now couldn’t bear to cut those ties.

You swallow the hurt, trying to put into words the burden that’s been weighing on you for so long, “I don't want to live in her shadow. I don't want to see this through when I know that one day, you’ll regret what you’ve lost.”

His face falls, and you feel a bit of satisfaction in seeing him carry even a smidgen of the hurt you’ve felt. But for the most part, it just hurts you to see him in pain.

”You think so lowly of me, as if I don't have the autonomy to make my own decisions. But you need to face the facts, dear —- the only one holding back is you.” He’s laid his heart on a silver platter. The only obstacle here was your own doubts, your own insecurities.

You reel back as he steps closer, “So tell me, why do you prevent us from having what we both want?” He brushes his hand gently against your cheek.

You take a deep breath to say the words you know will end this for good. “Because I deserve better than to settle for second place in your heart.” You give him no time to refute before you turn around, heart bruised and battered. “Please, just leave. Don’t follow me. I don't wanna speak to you anymore, not tonight.”

“I’m not leaving you alone in this city —”

“I'll call someone.”

And that’s how it ends.

You walk away, deciding to call Kieran to pick you up. You can’t bring yourself to be in close proximity with Sylus right now. You know he hasn’t actually left, hearing the conspicuous whirring of his motorcycle in the distance, engine alerting you to his presence from a mile away. In the corner of your eye, you can see Mephisto's red, beady eyes from the pedestrian light across the road, watching you.

Still, you continue to walk aimlessly in this false notion of solitude, carrying your heels as you wait for Kieran to arrive. Now that the haze of alcohol has cleared, and you’ve let out all that was building up since the hunter’s arrival, you can’t help but feel hollow. Completely drained of all the anger and sorrow that you’d been carrying in the past few weeks.

The streetlights cast these roads in an artificial light, the moonless sky and desolate streets feeling emptier under its warm glow. Midsummer was fast approaching, a period once marked by sunshine and cicadas. The N109 Zone was the antithesis to everything you’d ever known and cherished — and for a while, you thought that maybe it could be enough.

But now, you yearn for the sun to rise after the long night you’ve endured.

A familiar car eventually pulls up, the window rolled down for you to see the concern on Kieran’s face. But he says nothing as you enter, haggard and spent, with no energy to hide your woes or muster up small conversation. The lights of the city dissipate as you head into the outskirts of the N109 Zone, and you can only hope the darkness is enough to shroud the silent tears streaming down your face.

Kieran says nothing as you silently cry in the backseat, offering you the grace of asking no questions.

—————————————————————

Sylus watches painfully as you walk away, ashamed by this seemingly forbidden act — when all he wants to do is pull you in for more.

For the longest time, he'd been in this foolish delusion that things could be the same between him and the hunter. If he got her to remember, if he got her to open up. But the truth was, it’ll never be the same. Both of them were two entirely different people in this life, and now… now there was you.

He had been desperately latching on to the love that was robbed from him centuries ago, and blinded himself to the way you’d fully taken root in his heart.

Now, he needed to cut off these loose ends and find a way to make up for his mistakes, his indecision — and only then, could he even try to give you the love that you deserve.

But the next few days prove to be a trial as the world seems keen on keeping the two of you apart. You have a talent for avoiding him, finding increasingly elaborate ways not to cross paths with him. And when an important mission arises, requiring him to go into the field himself, it felt like fate conspiring against him.

He finishes the mission in record time, completing it in detached efficiency as he ponders how to go about speaking with you — something he plans to do as soon as he returns home. But as he nears the entrance to the Onychinus headquarters, he can immediately sense that something is wrong.

A flash of light strikes through the heart of the N109 Zone — devoid of the accompanying rumble of thunder to be lightning — when dread fills his bones. He realizes he's seen this before.

On the day that you arrived.

He rushes into the building, immediately approached by his lackeys reporting of traitors lurking in Onychinus, who thought it wise to attack the base in his absence. But all he can think about is finding you.

He rushes to his office, finding the twins equally distressed, after they’d cleared the floor for traitors. “Boss, she’s gone.”

“Explain it to me clearly. Who's gone?” His heart is racing — struck by horror at the blood pooling at your desk. He knows the answer, but he doesn’t want to confront the devastation about to tip over.

“Miss Secretary. We apprehended the traitor, but there was a stray bullet and then — she just vanished.”

Rage blinds him. Suddenly he wants vengeance, retribution, ordering his men to apprehend the shooter. All he can do is imprison and torture the man who dared shoot at the woman he loves, making him suffer for what he’s taken from you.

But it's not nearly enough. Not when your absence is so palpable, not when you’ve left his life as easily as you entered it.

In the end, your departure is but a whisper in the N109 Zone, leaving behind nothing but a pool of blood and a mark on his heart.

—————————————————————

are we gonna talk about the way it took me a whole car crash, the national elections, and a loved one's terminal illness to finally finish this chapter? maybe another day. but for now i'm going to play death and rebirth (i didn't let myself until i finished this LOL) i'll see you all on the next chapter where we pick up where this chapter left off and (maybe) see things from sylus’s perspective!

some things i’d like to share since i took off for a month

i've started a new term with new professors — and one of them is literally named GOJO??? my class calls him “professor gojo uwu~” behind his back its hilarious

hot chocolate does not mix well with vodka (don’t ask me how i know)

filipino lads artists are goated and i spend more money on their merch than on the actual game

i fear i’ve become too delusional because why does my dad’s doctor look like ZAYNE —

p.s. if any of you are interested, i've linked the playlist i made for this fic in the series masterlist :>

taglist — @mangooes @mentaltrouble2201 @animegamerfox @crazy-ink-artist @phisen @jeondyy @t4naiis @wifunozomi @munimunni @blessdunrest @rafayelridesfisheatsfish @paintedperidot @mansonofmadness @pillarofsnow @sylususeyourevolonmepls @angelichiaro @mephisto-with-a-knife @crimsonmarabou @hikaru-sama @flamedancer13 @tati-the-fangirl @ameili @poptrim @caramelizedpopcirn @cupid-gene @vvonunie @lunia-likes-pomegranet @iamawkwardandshy @tinyweebsstuff @astolary @vyntheria @theloveofnagiseishiroslife @velourmobius @beaconsxd @hon3yydew @kira-loves0905 @codedove @that-lost-one @colonelcalebs-pipsqueak @kaiii07 @bohoooitsme @everythingistaken00 @rmjace @red-raf-sy @goddexxluv @seris-the-amious @stellisangelicus-world @alhaith4ms @young-adult-summer @junrui

feel free to dm/comment on the series masterlist if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist 💕comment and reblog if you enjoyed!

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eternal-evergreens · 8 months ago

Text

｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧"Into the looking glass - II " ｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII

Post format: Multipart series

Pairing: Yandere!Male!DoL x Fem!Isekai!Reader

Word count: 5.2k

Synopsis: You gain the chance to wake up in the world of one of your favorite games. Unfortunately, the 'favorite game' happens to be one about rape, violence, and stalking. Not only that, but the game seems to be rigged against you. All you want is to find a way home and put this all behind you, but is that even possible...?

Warnings: Sexual Assault, Attempted Non/Con, Stalking, Violence, Age Gaps, Teacher/Student, Caretaker/Ward, One Suicide Joke, Bullying,

Excellent Good Decent Okay Poor Bad Terrible

What…what does that mean?

Darling? Surely, they don’t mean it the way you think they mean it…

…But, if that were the case, why would it be written in red and pink? You think back on all the strange occurrences of the day and come to a horrifying realization.

Beauty: 7/6 Your beauty is beyond measure. Robin wants to be your best friend. Love: 100% Confidence: 0% Trauma: 0% Lust: 40% Whitney wants to own you. Love: 50% Dominance: 50% Lust: 100% Kylar is obsessed with you. Love: 100% Jealousy: 55% Lust: 90% Sydney is conflicted. Love: 77% Purity: 44% Lust: 66% Bailey doesn’t want you to leave. Love: 25% Lust: 99% You’re Leighton’s favorite. Love: 10% Lust: 85% Your fellow students desire you.

When they say “Darling,” they mean it as in the victim of a yandere.

This...this isn't DoL.

Your phone buzzes. You’ve gotten a text.

Congratulations! You’ve made a key discovery and found a fragment of the true nature of this world.

What the fuck does that mean? Wait, this thing can read your thoughts?

View fragment? Y/N

Yes. If you can go home, yes.

There are 7 total fragments. Fragments found: 2 Fragments remaining: 5 Fragment 1: Welcome to the alpha of Degrees of Lewdity! If you want to avoid trouble, dress modestly and stick to safe, well-lit areas. Nights are particularly dangerous. Dressing lewd will attract attention, both good and bad. The new school year starts tomorrow at 09:00. The bus service is the easiest way to get around town. Don’t forget your uniform and backpack!

You remember getting this message. So, that was a fragment, then? Why weren’t you notified before? Did you need to unlock something first?

Fragment 2: This is a world full of yanderes, so be careful! Balance your social stats between fascination, love, lust, jealousy, and devotion to survive. A quick guide on these crucial four states is provided below: Fascination indicates how enthralled your yandere is by the idea of you. It’s dangerous to let this get too high! Love indicates how much a yandere values the authentic you. Putting on airs will lower your yandere’s love, but may be necessary at times. Having a negative love will lead to more dangerous encounters. Lust indicates carnal desire. Higher lust can aid in negotiations if you’re willing to reward them, but if this stat goes up too much, they won’t be willing to hear you out before taking what they want. Jealousy indicates the yandere’s volatility and desire to monopolize you. Some yanderes’ jealousy will go up if you don’t spend enough time with them. Devotion indicates how far the yandere is willing to go out of their way for you. Having this stat means you can make use of your yanderes, but they may also use their devotion in less productive ways.

Seems like every fragment reveals one truth about the world, as well as some tips on how to make use of the information it provides.

Your phone buzzes.

System error. Please reboot.

You look down at your phone with curiosity. What happened? Not knowing what else to do, you restart your phone and open it again.

Your social tabs have been updated with more accurate information. View tabs? Y/N

Yes.

Social Excellent Good Decent Okay Poor Bad Terrible Primary relationships Robin The Orphan Robin wants to be your best friend. Facination: 100% Love: 0% Devotion: 30% Lust: 40% Confidence: 0% Trauma: 0% Whitney The Bully Whitney wants to own you. Facination: 50% Love: 0% Devotion: 0% Dominance: 50% Lust: 100% Kylar The Loner Kylar is obsessed with you. Fascination: 100% Love: 0% Devotion: 30% Jealousy: 55% Lust: 90% Sydney The Faithful ? Sydney is conflicted. Fascination: 77% Love: 0% Devotion: 20% Purity: 44% Lust: 66% Other relationships: Bailey The Caretaker Bailey doesn’t want you to leave. Fascination: 25% Love: 0% Lust: 99% Devotion: 1% Leighton The Headmaster You’re Leighton’s favorite. Fascination: 16% Love: 0% Lust: 85% Devotion: 0% Reputation The police aren’t concerned with you, and have no evidence linking you to any crime. The atmosphere in the orphanage is calm. You are considered a normal student by teachers. Your fellow students desire you. Lust: 100% Status: 50%

Before you can properly digest this new information, your phone buzzes again.

Congratulations! You’ve unlocked a new quest. You have just discovered two secrets of the world, and with it, your understanding becomes clearer. ++Awareness. You feel as if you are on the verge of remembering something important. Discover all there is to know about this place, and perhaps you may be granted the opportunity to escape it. View questpage? Y/N

You might be able to go home? You quickly hit the yes button and keep reading.

Main questline >Find the remaining fragments and discover the true nature of this world. >Meet the remaining love interests. Time-sensitive >Bailey wants £100 on Sunday.

…You have to meet the remaining love interests? Doesn’t that mean getting kidnapped?! You stare at your phone dejectedly as you roll over in bed. You’ll worry about that later. For now, you just need to rest. You close your eyes, but you can’t get comfortable. Your phone buzzes for what feels like the millionth time, and you lazily pull it out to check.

You’ve unlocked a new quest! Your bed is uncomfortable. All rest points are reduced by half. Nightmares are more intense. Every rest has a 5% chance of waking you up sore. Save up your funds and buy a comfortable bed! Current funds: £186 Funds needed: £2400 Optional: Decorate your room to match your taste. Current funds: £186 Funds needed: ??? Rewards: Triple current rest points, nightmares reduced Penalty: None Bonus Rewards: +Love to all LI’s, passive stress and trauma decay faster while inside.

Money again, huh? Typical. Still, the rewards are pretty good. You’ll have to do it later. For now, you should probably go to work to make it happen. You change out of your uniform and head to the office building, where you approach the kiosk and apply as a temp. It’s a somewhat risky job, but the pay is one of the best, especially once you start getting bonuses.

Your manager this time is a trim man named Marcus. He shows you around the building and you get to work. It’s not too bad, though your clothes get caught in the shredder more times than you’d like to admit, at least you didn’t fall in the koi pond.

Before you realize it, it’s 22:00. Dark once again. Dark in Doltown with a constantly maxed allure.

Fuck.

You go downstairs and are debating whether you should risk the bus or the streets when a growling pair of yellow eyes meets your gaze.

“If I get molested by a dog, I’m actually gonna kill myself,” you say to no one in particular, immediately turning to the direction of the nearest bus stop.

That’s another reason you should work at the dog pound from time to time, actually. Completing various tasks there makes the streets safer at night and beastiality encounters less frequent.

You end up having to use your sole pepper spray charge on two men from the bus, leaving you unprotected and uneasy. You open your phone and turn on the flashlight, but your eye is caught by your status. Right under the blurb telling you about your current state, is purple text reading: “Something is watching you.”

An idea strikes you. It’s bold, it’s risky, it’s—

This is stupid, you think to yourself. This is so, so stupid. You follow your flashlight to a secluded, dead-end alleyway. There’s only one way for someone to come in here. You check your phone. Something is watching you.

“Hello?” You call out. “I know you’re watching me. Come out already.” You hear a rustling near the garbage bags, then see a short figure dart out and make a run for it. You were expecting this, though, so you immediately break out into a sprint and give chase. You aren’t very fast, but your legs are longer, and you quickly catch up. “Gotcha,” you say, hand on their shoulder as you turn them to face you. “Kylar.”

“H-how did you know?”

“Forget that. Just know I’m not mad.”

“Y-you aren’t?” There’s a twinge of hope in his voice. Time to crush it.

“I’m not. Not yet, anyway.” Kylar looks confused. “I hear you’re good at chemistry. Can you make pepper spray?”

“How did you-”

“Can you?” You say, allowing your voice to take on a flirtatious lull as you lean in close. “I’d be very happy if you could.” You bat your eyelashes and Kylar gulps. He tries to nod but ends up hitting your head with his own by accident. +Pain

“Good,” you say. “I want you to make pepper spray for me. Make sure I never run out, and you can follow me to your heart's content. Deal?” You hold out your hand for him to take. Kylar considers it for a moment, then takes your hand. ++Devotion. You shake, but he doesn’t let go. Not wanting to provoke him, you leave it, and Kylar ends up walking you home. It’s silly, but you actually feel a little safer walking with him. +Love.

Together, you reach the orphanage’s entrance. Kylar looks like he wants to ask you to stay the night but quickly flushes and runs away.

Thank God.

You climb into bed. It isn’t very comfortable.

———————

It is the 6th of September, 2022. -It has been 2 days since the game started. -The game started in autumn. -It is autumn. -School term Finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £357 Pain: You feel okay Arousal: You are cold Fatigue: You are alert Stress: You are calm Trauma: You are uneasy Control: You are confident Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged

You walk with Robin to school but part ways after reaching the courtyard. You aren’t sure where Robin goes when you part, but you suppose it doesn’t really matter. You head to the library but are surprised to find that Sydney isn’t there. You guess he must have overslept at the temple again, which means he won’t be back until lunch.

You suddenly wish you knew where Robin went after arriving at school. It’s probably more dangerous to wander around looking for him, though. So you settle down with a textbook until it’s time for class. When you check your school progress, you’re delighted to see every subject at nearly a 50% understanding for the week already. You’re on track.

The science project is assigned. You decide to do one on lichen. The money will help a lot, and it’ll be a good chance to meet Avery for your quest, too.

Someone spills acid on you during class. It was probably supposed to hit your shirt, but because of how you can’t button it up past your chest, it ended up hitting your breast instead. You spent the rest of class in the infirmary getting lectured about lab safety. Luckily, it was hardly even a first-degree burn. It’ll heal in no time, she said.

+Pain +Willpower

You return just in time to be late for math. +Delinquency

“Detention,” River says, not bothering to look up from the whiteboard.

“But—”

“Don’t talk back to me.” ++Delinquency

You nod, though you doubt he can see it, and look for a seat. The room is full, save for one seat in the back next to Whitney. It’s covered in boxes full of heavy textbooks.

Your phone buzzes.

>Move the boxes and sit next to Whitney +Fatigue -Dominance Increases chance of harassment >Sit in Whitney’s lap (Promiscuity 4) +++Dominance +++Lust -Jealousy >Ask someone to move +Delinquency -Dominance >Leave the classroom +++Delinquency

You sigh and march over to a toned boy sitting in the front. You try to smile but end up grimacing instead. “Could I sit here?” You ask. The boy laughs. River shoots you a look. -Status +Deliquency

>Get physical ++Delinquency +Status ? >Move the boxes and sit next to Whitney +Fatigue -Dominance Increases chance of harrasment >Sit in Whitney’s lap (Promiscuity 4) +++Dominance +++Lust -Jealousy >Leave the classroom +++Delinquency

You grit your teeth and walk over to Whitney, who pats his lap mockingly. You turn away from him to pick up the boxes, and he lifts your skirt up. You don’t think anyone saw, but it was still humiliating. You quickly move the boxes and sit down, trying to focus on the lesson. You’re doing pretty well despite your low grade, but sitting next to Whitney is definitely not helping. About halfway through the lesson, he throws a note at you, and despite your better judgment, you open it.

“show us your panties slut”

>Flash (Exhibitionism 1) +Lust +Dominance >Throw away -Dominance >Correct the note and throw back (English: Very difficult) --Dominance

You try to correct the note, but find nothing wrong. You toss it in a nearby bin instead.

-Dominance

The rest of class passes, and although Whitney tries to undo your bra strap again, he reaches for the back instead of the front, leaving you protected.

You go to English next, your previous encounter with Whitney leaving you motivated to do well. You see Kylar sitting in the back. You ignore him and focus on the lesson instead. It’s boring, but you need the grade, so you muddle through it.

You try to muddle through it, anyway. The person behind you keeps kicking your seat, and then looking away every time you turn to face him.

>Tell the teacher -Status +English >Endure +Stress >Move seats +Delinquency

You quietly inform the teacher of your predicament, and she sends the boy to another seat. Some students snicker at you, but you’re able to finish the lesson in peace. -Status +English

The bell rings, and you head to lunch. Robin is eating with some others from the orphanage; they seem to be having fun. Sydney is sitting behind a large pile of books; he looks stressed. Kylar is eating alone, stabbing food with a fork; he looks bored.

>Sit with Robin +Love -Stress -Jealousy >Sit with Sydney +Love -Stress -Jealousy >Sit with Kylar +Love -Jealousy +++Pepper spray charge >Eat Lunch -Stress

You sit with Kylar, and hope no one notices. He immediately perks up upon seeing you. “I-I got you this,” he says, handing you a pepper spray canister. “Should keep the perverts away.”

You gained 20 pepper spray charges! Talk to Kylar each week to refill. >Take it but say nothing -Love >Take it and thank +Love +Devotion >Take it and kiss ++Lust ++Devotion >Take it and reward +++Lust +++Devotion

You thank him sincerely, and the two of you spend the rest of lunch together. +Love +Devotion

After eating, you buy a coffee and head to the library, walking up to Sydney. “Welcome back!” He chirps from behind the desk. He looks exhausted despite the chipper tone. You hand him the coffee.

“Don’t overwork yourself,” you say, smiling. Sydney looks surprised but quickly smiles and takes the coffee from you. You look down at the stacks of books on his desk. +Love “Anything I can help with?”

“Oh, you don’t have to-”

“I want to,” you say firmly. You feel bad just leaving him there, plus…

>Help Sydney +Love +Devotion +School -Sydney’s purity

Well, how can you turn that down? Aside from the purity loss, those are all pretty damn good.

“Well, if you don’t mind,” he says, fidgeting a little. “Could you help me stamp these books?” You nod, and Sydney lets you in behind the counter. +Love +Devotion +School

The two of you chat while you work, and it actually ends up being pretty enjoyable! -Stress -Trauma +Love

Your hands brush with Sydney's while you work. -Sydney'd purity.

“Hey, Syd! Oh, and [First], too!” Someone says, walking up to the counter. It’s Sirris, Sydney’s father and your science teacher. “How are you doing, love bug?” Sydney looks embarrassed but still answers. “Oops! I forgot I’m not supposed to call you that at school. Sorry, hon.” You get the feeling he did it on purpose, but if Sydney also thinks this, he doesn’t say anything. The two of them chat for a little bit, with Sirris mostly ignoring your presence. You feel a little awkward, but it’s cute to see the two of them getting along so well. Sirris leaves after a few minutes, waving to you both.

You smile at Sydney. “Seems like you and Dad are pretty close, huh?” He flushes.

“L-let’s get back to work,” he says. You decide not to tease him further. The two of you finish the rest of the work in silence, and the bell rings, so you get up and head to History class.

A mousy girl is sitting in your seat next to Robin. You ask her to move, but she won’t budge. You already have detention today, so you decide not to push it and sit somewhere else. Robin looks at you sadly from across the room +Jealousy

You’re called up by Winter to demonstrate the pillory in front of the class, you hesitate to step up, but, remembering Leighton’s punishments, decide to risk it. Unfortunately, luck is not on your side, and Winter is called out while you’re still locked in the pillory.

“Who thinks the lesson should continue?” Says a slight boy. He gets up from his seat and begins to saunter over, but Robin stands up, too, and blocks his path forward.

“Stop,” he says, tone even and steady.

“Oh? And what’re you going to do about it?” The slight boy asks. Robin seems to falter for a moment, and the slight boy takes advantage, pushing past him and walking up behind you. You don’t see what happens next, but one moment Robin is in front of you, and the next, he’s gone. You hear a smacking noise behind you, and then a thud as if something had just hit the ground. The class looks incredulous. Winter walks back in.

“Assaulting another student? I expected better from you, Robin,” he says.

“Wait, I can explain–”

“Detention.”

The slight boy smacks your ass on the way back to his seat.

+Trauma +Stress

You go to swimming, but your earlier run-in with acid leaves you unable to participate, so you just sit by the pool in your swimsuit until class is over. When you get back, you notice your underwear is missing. You put your clothes on over your swimsuit. It looks a little funny from the front, but it’s better than nothing.

Actually, you might start doing this more often. A swimsuit is tight and harder to get off, no one can unclasp your bra, you don’t have to change, and it’ll actually cover your boobs, even with the shirt unbuttoned. This is a great idea, you think to yourself, feeling a little proud.

You start to walk to the front courtyard when your phone reminds you of your detention. Shit. You’d forgotten. At least Robin will be there with you?

Sighing, you head back inside.

“Keep writing, and don’t stop until I tell you to,” Leighton says. You glance at Robin, who’s working diligently. You decide to work hard, too. +Fatigue

Robin asks to walk home with you, but you tell him you’re going to the park instead. He waves you off, but there’s a glint in his eye that wasn’t there before. +Jealousy

You go to the park and meet Avery, asking for help gathering Lichen. You tell him about your school project, and he offers to take you out for drinks. You don’t really want to get involved with him, but you’re a little afraid of refusing him.

>Go for drinks +Facination +Dominance +Love? >Refuse -Love +Lust +Rage

None of those options look good, but you remember the guide saying that negative love leads to more dangerous encounters. You take his hand, and the two of you go out. The place he picked is cute, and the employees there seem to recognize him.

“Can I recommend you a drink?” He asks. “I think I know what you’ll like.”

>Buy Avery’s recommendation +Facination +Dominance +Stress >Pick your own drink +Love -Stress -Dominance -Fascination -Endearment

You pick your own drink and the two of you find a quiet corner to sit down in. +Love -Stress -Dominance -Fascination -Endearment

Your phone buzzes.

You’re on a date with Avery! How do you want to conduct yourself? >Act cute +Facination +Endearment >Act shy +Facination -Endearment >Act aloof --Endearment ++Lust >Be natural -Facination +???

You choose to act natural, hoping he’ll lose interest in you. You don’t voice any complaints, but you don’t bother to hide your discomfort, either. You fidget, you avoid eye-contact, and you don’t listen when he speaks to you.

-Fascination --Endearment +Love

When the date is over, Avery looks annoyed. He doesn’t say anything to you as he walks you to the exit, though his hand still rests on the small of your back.

You go to the manhole next. You don’t really want to, but you want that lichen. Luckily, you encounter no problems getting it. But that says nothing about what happens after.

You’re accosted by a giant lizard. If the game hadn’t told you what it was, you would have thought it was a crocodile based on its sheer size alone. It attacks you from behind, and you struggle to get it off your back. It claws at your clothing, leaving it worse for wear, but you’re able to roll over onto your back. The lizard is pinned underneath you now, but you still can’t reach it. You roll over and feel your shirt rip, exposing your back. You reach into your bag and pull out your pepper spray, aiming for the lizard’s eyes. It scurries away, leaving you panting in the sewers. You get a good workout.

You want to leave, but you still need that Lichen.

You crawl out of the sewers and head to the tailor, who offers to fix your clothes for £29.99. You accept and head to the office building, where you work as a temp for the next few hours, fighting through the exhaustion. You make £126.

You pass out on your way home and wake up in the hospital. Dr. Harper introduces himself and asks a few questions, but you leave out any details that could cause him to ask you to go to “therapy” with him. You’re discharged soon after, and Bailey picks you up.

“Don’t make me do this again,” he says.

When you get home, it’s already past midnight. You don’t bother putting on Pajamas, just stripping and hopping under the covers.

…

……

………

You should’ve worn clothes, you think to yourself as you feel Kylar’s breath on your face. He’s hard; you can feel the outline of his penis through the blanket. You try to steady your breathing, too embarrassed to open your eyes. He shifts on top of you, and then lifts your blanket from your body. You react without thinking, immediately sitting up in a panic. You just barely avoid colliding with him. Your eyes meet his, and he looks down, getting a fully unobstructed view of your breasts. He flushes deeply and scrambles away. ++Lust

After taking a moment to collect yourself, you stand up to close your window. You notice that it doesn’t have a lock.

You put on pajamas before going back to bed this time and wonder if you can find some way to board it up. You close your eyes, but rest never comes. You’re too on edge. You roll in bed for hours, never relaxing enough to fall back asleep. When you finally give up, it’s already 06:00. You remember your idea from earlier, and decide to wear your swimsuit under your uniform today.

It is the 7th of September, 2022. -It has been 3 days since the game started. -The game started in autumn. -It is autumn. -School term Finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £454 Pain: You feel okay Arousal: You are cold Fatigue: You are fatigued Stress: You are strained Trauma: You are uneasy Control: You are insecure Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged

You decide to spend some time in the garden growing daisies. It’s relaxing. By the time you finish, your hands are covered in dirt, and it’s 07:30. You wash your hands and go to Robin’s room to play video games for the next half hour.

“This one’s a cooperative game,” he says. “It’s known for being really difficult.”

“How do I play?” You ask, taking the controller. Robin leans over, wrapping an arm behind your back and taking your hands in his as he guides your hands to the correct positioning, fingers lingering over yours for a moment longer than necessary. You feel his breath on your skin as he walks you through the controls, his head over your shoulder and his arms still wrapped around you. +Lust

The two of you play for a little bit. Neither of you are very good, but you have a good time regardless. -Stress -Trauma

You and Robin are about to walk to school together when a car pulls up beside you. You brace yourself for the worst, but the window rolls down to reveal Avery instead. “I thought I recognized you,” he says, smiling warmly. “How about I give you a lift?” He glances dismissively at Robin.”Your little friend can come along, too.” Robin looks at you, clearly nervous.

>Ride with Avery +Robin’s jealousy >Ride with Avery and Robin +??? >Walk with Robin -Love +Lust +Rage -Robin’s jealousy

You try to smile at Robin, but it comes out strained. You hop into the car with Avery. Robin reluctantly follows your lead. You try to act naturally, bringing Robin into the conversation whenever Avery ignores him. Robin seems happy you’re paying attention to him, but still extremely out of place. -Robin’s Jealousy +Robin’s love +Avery’s love -Avery’s Fascination

Avery leaves, and you head to the library. Sydney isn’t there, so you study by yourself until it’s time to go to Science. A group of students pass by you in the halls; they leer at you but don’t say anything.

Science, math, and English all pass by without incident, for once. You feel yourself begin to relax as you head to the canteen, only to jump when an arm wraps around your shoulders. You turn around. It’s Whitney.

“I’m hungry,” he says. “But I don’t want anything here. Come with us to get a snack.” Your sense of control wavers. Fearful of his intentions, you shove Whitney off of you and try to run, but he grabs your arm. Delinquents pull out their phones and circle around you. You lift the arm he’s holding and swing it to the side, using the created opportunity to elbow him with your unobstructed arm. He staggers and lets go of your arm, nearly falling but just barely managing to regain his balance. You rush to the least populated area of the circle and try to push past the delinquents, but they grab you and push you back in instead.

You reach for your pepper spray but notice your backpack has been taken from you. You glance behind you, and sure enough, a group of students are rifling around your things. You lunge for them, but they toss it to the students across from them, playing keep-away.

Whitney is glaring at you from the other side of the ring. He rushes you, and you fail to dodge. He pushes you to the ground, his friends scattering out of reach. You headbutt him on the way down, but he’s got your arms in a tight grip. You struggle against his hold, kicking and squirming under him. Whitney sits over you, straddling your waist and holding your arms in place beside your head. His face is inches from yours, and you can feel his heavy breath on your skin.

You try to bridge him, but he’s too heavy. You’re quickly losing strength, and Whitney can tell your struggles are becoming weaker. “Just give up,” he says. “Or I might have to do something worse.” Your sense of control weakens. He leans down over you, rubbing his penis against your stomach. You freeze, a sense of cold, numbing dread overtaking you as Whitney climbs off of you. He offers a hand to help you up, and you, briefly forgetting your situation, take it.

He pulls you up and into his arms with surprising strength, smirking at you as your noses brush. He releases your hand but still wraps an arm around your waist, keeping you from leaving.

“Can I have my bag back?” You ask, hopefully. Whitney looks over your shoulder at the people rifling through your things. One of them reaches for the side zipper you keep your pepper spray in, and you freeze.

“She’s got pepper spray!” The short boy exclaims.

“Holy shit,” a lithe girl says.

Whitney releases you from his grip on your waist but soon grabs your arm and forces it behind you. You move your left leg around his and plant it on the ground, then you twist yourself away from him until your arm is beside you again. You plant your other foot and lift your left, kicking him in the back of his knee. He falls, but you fall with him. He lets go when you land, and you roll over off of him, quickly standing. You kick him in the groin for good measure and then walk up to the delinquent, holding your backpack and pepper spray. You hold out your hand expectantly and hands it to you stiffly. +Status

You decide to skip lunch and go to the mall instead. You pick up a keychain with a latch and attach your pepper spray to it, hooking it onto your skirt’s belt loop. It took you a while to find the right kind of keychain, and by the time you’re back on campus, it’s already 13:06. +Deliquency

You quickly head into history class, where Winter takes note of your tardiness, and sit next to Robin. He notices your ruffled hair and asks if you’re okay. You smile at him as you take your seat, but he seems unconvinced. You spend the rest of History daydreaming.

When you get to your swimming lesson, you don’t even have to get naked. Your swimsuit is already under your uniform, so all you have to do is take them off. Your injury yesterday has healed well enough to allow you into the pool, too, so you get to improve your swimming grade. It isn’t until after the lesson is over, and you emerge from the pool, dripping wet, that you realize the fatal flaw with your underwear idea.

You have to put clothes on over your wet swimsuit.

Not seeing any other viable option, you put your clothes on over your wet swimsuit. The fabric clings to your body, but it does that anyway. You leave the changing room and head to detention, trying to ignore the stares of your peers as they gawk at your see-through shirt (they can’t even see anything through it, you aren’t sure what they’re staring at.).

Detention only takes ten minutes, so you’re still able to walk home with Robin. He doesn’t say anything, but you catch him taking peeks at your chest every so often. +Love +Lust +Stress

You go to the temple after changing and pick up some pink lichen for your science fair project.

You think about the last sample of lichen you need and wonder if a £500 prize is worth being molested by ghost tentacles. You wonder if £2,000 is worth being hunted with a vengeance every blood moon.

You do need the money…

———————

806 notes · View notes

colouredbyd · 6 days ago

Text

Secrets Have Teeth: part two

poly!marauders x fem!reader

synopsis: after a reckless prank tears the marauders apart, you’re left reeling with bandaged skin and a bite mark no one was meant to see. james and sirius spiral into blame, while remus struggles to breathe under the weight of what he’s done—and what he’s turned you into. as the next full moon creeps closer, so does the question none of you can answer: are you still theirs? or did the secret they kept ruin everything beyond repair?

warnings: graphic injury, blood, emotional breakdown, panic attacks, guilt, bathing scenes (non-sexual), intense regret, betrayal, depiction of self-loathing, partial nudity (non-sexual), heavy angst, complex grief, subtle references to recovery and healing, breakups, silent treatments, fights, screaming, a lot of crying okay, angst angst angst, remus lupin needs a hug, bite marks, lycanthropy talks, isolation, abandonment.

w/c: 6.3k

a/n: tw: it gets way worse before it gets better. the epilogue (part 3) will be up at noon, as I need a long nap </3 also if you saw errors; no you didn't!

part one final part masterlist

Secrets are not just betrayals whispered behind closed doors; they are burdens that change the shape of your spine.

They do not sit quietly in the corner of a room, waiting for you to find them—no, they claw through the walls, tear through the floorboards, make their presence known with bloodied hands and a sick grin.

They are not fragments of uncertainty or the soft rustle of doubt. They are curses dressed as silence, and when they break, they break with violence.

You used to think a secret was a choice—a truth not yet told, something harmless and suspended in time, hovering between love and fear. But you know better now.

There is no graceful unraveling. No soft letdown. No time to understand what you didn’t know. One moment, you're laughing in the softness of a late afternoon, folded into arms you trust, and the next, the floor opens beneath your feet and swallows you whole.

And the cruelest ones? They come from the mouths you love.

They’re hidden in the pockets of the people who promise to protect you. And there is no pain more intimate than being shut out of something that could have killed you.

No heartbreak like learning that the people you would have died for—did almost die for—decided that you, in all your devotion, were better off in the dark.

And now, three days later, you’re still living inside the wreckage.

The scent of antiseptic clings to the back of your throat as you sit motionless on the stiff cot in the far corner of the infirmary. The curtains are drawn halfway, casting narrow shadows across the cold tile floor.

Your shoulder still aches where teeth found skin. You don't look at it. You don't need to. It burns on its own, a quiet brand that won’t let you forget.

Madam Pomfrey works a few beds away, muttering charms and smoothing bandages over a younger student’s broken arm. Her presence is kind, patient.

And yet, you still flinch when her gaze flickers toward you.

Shw doesn’t ask questions, not outright, but you can see the storm brewing quietly behind her eyes. She knows something—suspects something, and you don't blame her.

Your appearance doesn’t help: bandages layered thick over your shoulder, bruises blooming down your arms like ink stains, a hollow look you cannot shake even after three days of silence.

She hasn’t pressed, and you haven’t offered. But there’s understanding in the way she moves around you, gentler than usual, like she’s aware of something unspoken and heavier than she’s allowed to acknowledge.

It has been three days since that night. Three days since you helped Remus bathe, your trembling fingers scrubbing his skin while he stared at the tiled wall like it might collapse around him.

That was the last time you saw him—truly saw him—and it seems it may have been the last time James and Sirius did too, in any meaningful sense.

Not that Remus is physically gone. He is still there, somewhere on these castle grounds. But from what you’ve heard, what James has quietly admitted in between visits, Remus has drowned himself in guilt so thoroughly he can no longer surface.

He doesn’t speak to anyone. He refuses to meet a single pair of eyes, especially Sirius’s. He skips meals, skips class, skips sleep. It’s as if he’s convinced he no longer deserves to participate in a world that let him love, and be loved, before he tore you open.

James doesn’t speak much during his visits, but he’s the only one who comes. He never says Sirius’s name unless you ask, and you don’t. You’re afraid of the answer, and you already know enough.

You know they fought again. That much James let slip—a physical fight. He blames Sirius for all of it. And from the way his voice cracked, you can tell Sirius didn’t take it well.

He’s disappeared into his own corner of regret, and no one seems to know how to reach him. Or maybe no one wants to.

They have all retreated into their own haunted rooms, and somehow, you have become the hallway between them.

They left you in the dark long before the Shrieking Shack, and it is in that silence you now reside. Not just wounded, but discarded. Forgotten by the very boys who once told you they’d give you the stars if only you asked.

And still, they never told you the one thing that mattered. That Remus could become something else. That he did become something else. That they had known for years—and hid it from you.

And you wonder, as the bed creaks beneath your weight and the moon edges ever closer in the sky, if you will ever stop being angry. If you will ever stop feeling like the enemy in a war you never knew you were drafted into.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the soft rustle of fabric and the familiar scent of lavender salve. Madam Pomfrey steps beside you without a word, her expression unreadable as she reaches up and gently pulls the curtains closed around your bed, sealing you off from the rest of the ward.

Madam Pomfrey doesn’t speak at first. She moves with quiet, practiced efficiency, setting down her tray beside you and unfastening the clasps of her outer robe, folding it neatly over a chair.

She begins with the lighter wounds first—your temple, still split from where it hit the wall, the scabbing blood making a dark line beneath your hairline. She dabs at the wound with a warmed cloth, pressing gently, and when you flinch, she clicks her tongue in quiet disapproval.

“You’re lucky it didn’t split deeper,” she mutters, more to herself than to you.

“Another inch and you’d be in St. Mungo’s for brain swelling. Merlin help me, the things you children get yourselves into.”

You say nothing. Your mouth is dry and your throat hurts just from breathing. She moves down to your arms next, her touch brisk but never cruel. As she begins unwrapping the bandages, her voice returns, softer this time.

“I’ve seen my share of injuries, but these claws here,” Madam Pomfrey says, her eyes narrowing on the ragged gashes near your elbow, “they got you good. You’re lucky—these kinds of wounds can get far worse if left untreated.”

She presses a fresh layer of salve gently onto the torn skin, her movements careful but firm

Your shoulders stiffen as she moves higher, toward your collarbone.

“I don’t expect you to talk to me,” Madam Pomfrey says gently.

“But I do need to check that shoulder. It’s been weeping through the bandage. If you let infection set in, there’ll be nothing I can do to stop the fever.”

As her fingers near your shoulder, instinct kicks in and your body jerks away, as if burned. Your eyes widen, breath hitching violently in your chest. The pain flares before she even touches it. You can feel the pulse of it, sharp and hot beneath your skin—a sick throb that refuses to dull.

She stops immediately, hands raised, expression unreadable. But she’s seen this before.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” she says calmly, voice the kind of soft you only hear from someone who has walked this path with too many others. “But I am going to ask you to be brave. Just a little longer.”

You shake your head, lower lip trembling, voice cracking before it can form anything coherent. Then, through a breathless sob that rattles straight from your ribs, the words tumble out like glass.

“Please—please don’t tell anyone,” you beg, voice collapsing beneath the weight of the plea. “Please. Please don’t.”

You’re shaking now, your whole body folded inward, arms clutched tightly around yourself as if they might keep you from falling apart entirely.

But she only nods, patient and unwavering. And with your hesitant permission, her hands return to the bandage. She peels back the gauze soaked through with the cloudy mixture of blood and silvery paste, and the smell alone makes your stomach twist.

The bite is worse than you initially thought.

It’s not just torn flesh—it’s a wound trying not to heal, an angry bloom of bruised skin veined with pale silver and angry blue. The center of it is swollen, raw and cracked like dry earth, threaded through with glistening webs of silver residue and flecks of dried dittany. The spot on your shoulder where the bite landed is the most violent part of it all.

Pain arcs through your shoulder like a blade when she presses a fresh salve to it, your body seizing in its place.

And still, all you can whisper, again and again, is “Please don’t tell them.”

Three days ago, you held Remus in the bath while he broke apart in your arms. His sobs were silent, but his body trembled so violently you thought he might shatter entirely.

You were the one who helped him rinse the blood from his skin, the one who kissed the scars along his shoulder, the one who told him it wasn’t his fault—even when you weren’t sure you believed it yourself.

But right after that, you left.

You left to Madam Pomfrey, holding your robe shut tight over your shoulder where the blood wouldn’t stop soaking through, where the pain had turned sharp and hot and unbearable. You hadn’t told them.

Because you’d been bitten.

And now, you would become a werewolf.

“Miss Y/N,” she says, voice low and clear, “I am your matron, not your enemy. I’ve seen enough over the years not to be frightened by wounds like this, no matter how they came to be. Now take a breath and show me. You need help, not shame.”

Your fingers move with a reluctant tremor as you tug the collar of your shirt down, just enough to reveal the wound.

She simply exhales, and after a moment says, almost wearily, "I knew when you came that night that it was Remus."

Your head snaps up. Panic floods your veins so fast it makes you dizzy. “How—how do you know that—how could you—”

You stare at her, mouth ajar, and she gives a soft sigh, dipping her cloth into a bowl of warm tincture and wringing it out before pressing it gently against your shoulder.

Her touch is careful, almost reverent. Like she knows what it means. What it will cost you.

“I’ve been sneaking that boy through the Whomping Willow since he was eleven,” she continues matter-of-factly.

“Every month like clockwork. Potions ready, bandages set, and every month, he came back torn to pieces. That’s not something I forget easily.”

You blink. The words feel impossible to hold.

“You knew?” you whisper, the betrayal climbing your throat like bile.

“Yes,” she says simply. “Albus knew, too, when he admitted him. It was his decision, and I agreed with it. I still do, but it doesn’t mean I’m blind to the cost of keeping secrets.”

Great, even bloody Dumbledore and Poppy knew that Remus was a werewolf and you didn't, how absolutely hilarious.

“He didn’t tell me,” you murmur. “None of them did.”

Madam Pomfrey doesn’t defend them. She doesn't try to explain their choices. She just looks at you the way a nurse looks at someone in pain, with understanding, and with grief.

“No,” she says. “And that’s where they went wrong.”

“You’re not alone in this.”

“I know it feels that way,” she goes on, folding the used cloths into a small metal basin, “but you aren’t. This condition is… rare, yes. Misunderstood, feared, but not unmanageable. Not when you’re prepared.”

You can feel your heartbeat rising again, not from fear this time, but from something else—something darker and bitter curling behind your ribs.

“I’ve seen what this can do to young people,” she says, now standing before you again, hands folded at her waist. “And I won’t lie to you—it won’t be easy. The first transformation is the worst. The body doesn’t understand what’s happening. It fights it. There’s pain, real pain. But there are ways to help.”

You glance up at her, forcing your voice through the knot in your throat. “Like what?”

“For starters, Wolfsbane,” she replies, tone brisk again. “It won’t stop the transformation, but it will let you keep your mind. You’ll need to take it for a week leading up to the full moon. I’ll make sure you have it.”

Your stomach twists at the thought. Keep your mind—what a horrifying distinction to make. You hadn’t realized losing it was the default.

Madam Pomfrey must see the dread forming on your face, because her tone softens again.

“You have three weeks,” she says. “That’s enough time to prepare. You won’t be alone. I expect—” she pauses, seeming to choose her words carefully, “—I expect Mr. Lupin and the others will guide you through it. They’ve been through it before. They know what to do.”

You say nothing, but the ache in your chest returns with sharp familiarity.

She notices your silence, but doesn’t press. Instead, she turns toward the tray, gathering the last of the supplies.

“I don’t know what happened that night,” she adds, without looking back at you. “I can see it in your face that something broke between you. That’s not for me to fix. But I’ve seen those boys drag each other out of worse. I trust they’ll come around.”

Her words barely reach you. Your mind is spiraling elsewhere, anchored only by the heavy throb beneath your new bandage and the quiet drumbeat of your anger.

She returns to your side, smoothing a wrinkle in your blanket as if trying to ease your nerves.

“One last thing,” she says, and now her voice lowers, serious in a way that makes your breath catch.

“This doesn’t affect your right to be here, at Hogwarts. Professor Dumbledore has allowed students with lycanthropy before. You will remain a student. You will have your education. Your life is not over, my dear.”

Relief sparks, brief and hollow, before she adds, “But it must remain a secret.”

That word lands like a slap.

Secret.

Of course.

Of course it has to be a secret. Like Remus, like James, like Sirius.

Like everything else.

Of course you must bite your tongue and carry it inside yourself, rot and all. As if it’s something shameful. As if you are something shameful.

Your whole body stiffens.

“A secret,” you echo, voice low and flat, your hands curling around the edge of the mattress. “Of course.”

You stand so quickly it startles her, the stool screeching quietly against the floor as you back away.

“I’m fine,” you say sharply, your breath shaky, your pulse hammering. “I’m okay. Thank you. I just—I need air.”

Madam Pomfrey steps forward, concerned. “Miss—”

But you’re already pushing through the curtain, eyes burning.

You leave the scent of antiseptic and balm behind, and walk straight into the corridor’s chill, chest heaving, the word secret still echoing like a curse inside your skull.

You don’t feel the cold until it’s too late.

By the time you’ve slammed through the infirmary doors, you’re already moving too fast for your body to catch up. Your shoulder throbs, the bandages sting, but you keep walking.

Students pass you. They look. They whisper. Their stares cling to your temple, to the bruise on your jaw, to the way you wince when your arm brushes your side. Their eyes don’t care if they’re intrusive.

You don’t care.

You don’t slow.

And that’s when you crash into someone.

You stumble back with a hiss and glance up, ready to spit fury into the face of whoever dared slow you down.

James Potter. And he looks like hell.

Pale, sleepless, thinner than he was three days ago. His glasses are smudged, his eyes bloodshot, and his hair—usually charmingly messy—is limp and unkempt. There’s something hollow about him, something scraped raw and left open to the cold.

He steadies you quickly, both hands catching your arms with careful fingers. “Hey—easy, love—”

You yank away like his touch burns. “Don’t.”

“Wait—just—wait,” he pleads, stepping in front of you before you can brush past him. “Please. Just for a second.”

“I don’t want to talk to you, James.”

“I know,” he says, voice soft. “I know you don’t. But I’ve been trying to give you space. I thought that’s what you needed. I didn’t want to push. I figured after everything… you might not want to see us. See me.”

You scoff bitterly. “Took you long enough to notice what I wanted.”

James’s mouth tightens, but he nods once. “You’re right.”

“I don’t want your apology,” you snap.

“I’m not giving you one,” he answers, and then quickly adds, “Not yet, because I know you’re not ready. But I needed to see you. I needed to make sure you’re—”

“I’m fine,” you cut in coldly.

“No, you’re not,” James says, firm but broken. “You look like you’re barely holding it together.”

Your eyes flash. “You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you? Pretending everything’s alright when you’re the one who shattered it.”

James flinches.

You push past him again, but he follows. “I just wanted to say that… I understand if you don’t want to be around Remus right now. Or Sirius, especially Sirius.”

That’s the last straw.

You stop so abruptly he nearly walks into you.

“Don’t.”

He blinks. “What?”

“Don’t you dare stand here and make this about Sirius,” you say, voice shaking as anger coils tighter in your chest. “Don’t put this all on him like it was his idea alone.”

James’s mouth opens, but the words die behind his teeth.

“You think he’s the only one who hurt me?” you demand. “You think I’m only bleeding because of him?”

His jaw clenches. “It was his fault. He’s the one who—”

“No!” you shout, your voice cracking under the weight of it. “No, James. This is not just Sirius’s fault. This is all of you. This is Remus, this is you—you most of all.”

James’s eyes widen, and he looks like you slapped him.“That’s not fair—”

You step closer, pointing at your chest, voice trembling. “Isn’t it?” you yell, voice cracking under the weight of your fury.

“Tell me, James. When you were lying in my bed telling me you loved me, were you already deciding what truths I didn’t deserve? Was that before or after you helped Remus sneak out every month? Was it before or after Sirius made jokes about scars and blood and things he never explained?”

He shakes his head. “It wasn’t like that—”

“Then what was it like? Huh?” you scream, chest heaving. “Explain it to me, because from where I’m standing, the three boys who told me they’d die for me—who said I was everything, who kissed me like I meant something—chose to let me be mauled by a werewolf before they ever chose to tell me the truth!”

James’s tears start to fall in earnest now, streaking quietly down his face. “We were scared.”

“You were cowards,” you whisper. “You let me believe I was safe with you. You let me trust you.”

“I was trying to protect Remus—”

“And what about me?” your voice cracks into a sob. “What about me, James? Did I matter? Or was I just collateral?”

“You mattered more than anything—”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?!” you scream.

“Why?!” you scream even louder.

Your body shakes, tears burning your eyes, your throat, your lungs.

“I’m not mad that Remus is a werewolf,” you gasp, nearly choking on the word.

“I’m mad that none of you told me. I’m mad that you looked me in the eyes and let me sleep next to you, kiss you, love you, and still didn’t trust me enough to know. That you didn’t love me enough to let me carry that weight with you.”

James is sobbing now. Quiet, pitiful, shaking. “I did love you—I do—I was just—”

“What?” you interrupt. “Just trying to control what I could know? Just deciding for me? Just hiding everything until it exploded?”

He opens his mouth, but you’re already speaking again.

“And don’t you dare stand there and act like you’re some innocent mediator in all this. Just because you’ve been the one showing up doesn’t mean you didn’t help keep it from me. You lied too. You let it happen. And if Sirius hadn’t pulled that prank, I still would have followed you that night. Because I knew you were hiding something. I felt it. And none of you said a word.”

James is frozen now. Glassy-eyed and gutted.

“Severus being there didn’t change a thing,” you whisper. “Because it could’ve been anyone. I was the one who walked through that door. And you all let me do it blind.”

You step closer, so close you can see your reflection in his broken eyes.

“It’s not just Sirius’s fault,” you say, voice soft and savage. “It’s yours too, James.”

You turn to leave.

You’ve already said it all, already cut deep enough to leave a scar, but something about seeing him like that—folded in on himself, tears streaking down his face, lips parted like he still wants to speak—makes your feet slow, if only for a breath.

And that’s all the opening James needs.

“Wait—please,” he says, hoarsely, as he takes a step forward. “Please, don’t walk away from me. Don’t walk away from us.”

You inhale, shaky and worn, but you don’t turn back around.

“I know we failed you,” he says behind you, his voice breaking again. “And I’m not asking for forgiveness. Not now, but just—don’t shut us out forever. Don’t shut me out. I need to make this right. I need to try.”

He comes closer.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, and then, almost hesitantly, his arms wrap around you from behind—slowly, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he moves too fast.

“I still love you,” he breathes into your hair. “I never stopped.”

You stiffen in his hold, frozen between the warmth of his arms and the fresh sting of everything you just screamed.

He presses a kiss to the side of your head, so soft you barely feel it.

Then, his hand brushes your shoulder.

Right where the bite is. Right where Madam Pomfrey cleaned and bandaged and warned you to be careful.

You wrench yourself out of his arms like you’ve been set on fire, stumbling with wide eyes and a sharp intake of breath.

James freezes, hand half-raised, his expression flickering from confusion to alarm.

“Did I—what did I touch?” he asks, voice suddenly alert. “Did I hurt you?”

Your hand flies to your shoulder instinctively, clutching it like you can shield it from him. You shake your head, too fast, too defensive. “It’s nothing,” you say quickly. “I just—don’t.”

James’s eyes narrow, blinking rapidly as he tries to read you. “Is it the bruising? I didn’t see it, I swear—was it—was it from the shack?”

You back away a step. “I said I’m fine.”

But you’re not looking at him anymore. Your voice has changed, and James isn’t stupid. Not when it comes to you.

Something shifts behind his eyes. Not anger—just realization, sharp and sudden.

“Wait,” he says quietly. “That wasn’t a bruise, was it?”

You go still.

“Don’t,” you whisper.

“What happened to your shoulder?” he asks, more firmly now, moving closer again.

But you’re already backing up.

“I have to go,” you say.

And before he can stop you, before he can ask the question that’s already forming on his tongue—you turn and walk away for real this time.

James stands alone in the hallway, breath caught in his throat, his arms still aching from where you flinched away.

He looks down at his hands like he’s touched something dangerous.

And for the first time since the night in the Shack, James Potter is afraid of what he doesn’t know.

You don’t know how you get there.

Your feet move before your mind can catch up, tearing you away from the corridor, from James’s voice, from the way his face crumpled when you flinched. The castle swallows you in stone and shadow, staircases shifting behind you as if trying to pull you back.

You just run.

Out past the great hall, past the broom shed, past the edge of the greenhouses where students rarely wander anymore—until you find an empty room. You shove the door open.

as it swings inward, and you step into the room. It’s warm and humid. The air thick with damp moss and the scent of old earth, of overgrown things left to tangle in peace. Light filters through the grime-slick glass above, casting everything in a muted, green-tinted glow.

It’s silent. Blessedly, finally silent.

Your knees hit the mossy stone floor hard, and it should hurt, but you don’t feel it. You can’t. Everything inside you has gone numb and sharp at the same time, like your blood has turned to ice and fire all at once. Your hands brace against the floor as your breath comes fast, broken.

The first sob is small, choked, swallowed before it can even make sound. The next one isn’t. It rips out of you with force, your whole body curling around it like it’s pain made physical, like your bones are cracking open to make room for grief. It pours out of you, uncontrollable, raw, and all-consuming.

The sobs come faster, messier, each one clawing its way up your throat with no grace, no dignity, only devastation. You press your palms to your eyes like it will stop the tremble in your chest, but it doesn’t. It only makes the world darker, more suffocating.

You’re shaking now. Shaking so violently you think you might fall apart in pieces right there beneath the weight of everything left unsaid.

You want to scream. You want to tear through the air and ask why, why, why over and over until someone finally answers.

You want to punch the walls, to shatter something, to break open the sky and let it come down around you. You want to cry out until your voice gives way and your body forgets what it feels like to carry this heaviness. Anything to stop feeling like this.

Your fingers clutch suddenly at your wrist, an instinct more than thought, seeking something, anything, to ground you. And they find it.

The bracelet.

It’s still there, tucked beneath your sleeve, the one they made for you. Beaded and bright, ridiculous in color, made of mismatched little pieces they had picked out together on your birthday.

You remember Sirius’ laughter as he fumbled with the clasp, James’ too-serious expression as he tied the final knot, and Remus’ quiet hands steadying yours as you put it on.

You grip the bracelet now like it might hold you up, like it might reach into your chest and stitch your cracked ribs back together. Your fingers tremble around it, clutching it so tightly it leaves indentations on your skin. As if holding this one thing might bring them back. Might undo the bite.

But it doesn’t.

You bow over the bracelet, your tears soaking into your sleeve as you cry harder, louder, deeper. And still, the bracelet stays on your wrist—colorful, delicate, whole.

Just like your love for them.

You cry until your throat burns and your chest feels hollow and your cheeks are streaked with salt and snot and shame.

Until there is nothing left but silence and your own shuddering breaths in the green-tinted quiet.

Until the sun fades behind the glass.

But time does not pause for heartbreak. It continues, steady and cold, peeling the days away like the petals of something you never got to protect.

Over a week passed.

You didn’t see James without retreating. Every time his eyes found yours across the corridors, every time he opened his mouth to speak, you walked away.

There was no strength left in you to navigate his softness, no patience for the way his gaze followed you like you were something he still had a right to miss.

The thing is, he let you.

He didn’t push. He didn’t chase. He just stood there, like he knew he deserved to watch you leave.

You saw Remus once. He looked so pale it made your stomach twist. He wasn’t just tired, he was empty. His face looked thinner, his eyes shadowed, and the way he moved was all wrong. He didn’t notice you at first, but when he did, before you could even take a breath to decide what to do, he turned his back to you and walked away.

He didn’t hesitate.

There was something far more brutal in that than all the silence James gave you. You had thought, somehow, that even if you were angry, even if he was ashamed, the two of you might still collide. But instead, he left you there.

You hadn’t seen Sirius at all.

Not in passing, not tucked in a corner with his cigarette and his loud voice, not at meals, not in any place he used to frequent. It was like he had vanished, and the absence of him followed you like a shadow. You didn’t know if he was okay. And you didn’t ask.

You tried not to think about it.

But love makes liars of us all.

It wasn’t until halfway through the second week that Sirius found you.

You had been sitting beneath one of the courtyard trees, back against the bark, arms folded tightly across your chest as you stared at the pages of a book you weren’t reading. You felt his shadow before you heard his voice, and when you looked up, he was already there.

He looked... ruined.

There was no dramatic entrance, no teasing smirk or soft smile. His eyes were red, as if he hadn’t slept in days. His shoulders were hunched, his clothes hung wrong on him, and his hands shook slightly where they hung by his sides.

When he finally sat beside you, he did it slowly, like the ground might give way beneath him.

“I didn’t come to fight,” he said softly, his voice wrecked. “I just... I needed to see you.”

You didn’t look at him.

But when you felt the heat of him beside you, felt the silence stretch too tight, something in you cracked.

It started with a tear. Then another. And soon the both of you were crying.

Sirius reached for your hand, and you let him hold it. You didn’t forgive him. But for that moment, you let yourself miss him. You let yourself grieve him, because it felt like you’d lost him too.

He whispered apologies through his tears, called himself a bastard, told you that he hated himself more than you ever could.

Eventually, you pulled your hand away, and the moment ended. He didn’t ask about your shoulder. He didn’t see the flinch when the breeze shifted your collar, and you were too tired to hide it. But he never noticed, too caught in the tremble of his own misery.

You understood that, too.

It was now the beginning of the third week.

Seven days until the full moon.

Seven days until everything you had been changed completely.

You hadn’t told them. You didn’t know if you ever would.

The guilt was sour in your stomach, but the fear was worse. Fear of how they’d look at you. Of what it would mean. Of becoming something they had spent their lives helping Remus survive, and never once thought to tell you about.

You took the stairs two at a time, heart racing as you made your way back to the infirmary. The bottle of Wolfsbane would be waiting. Madam Pomfrey would remind you again to prepare. She’d walk you through what to expect, what to feel, what to do when your own body turned against you.

Technically, this would be your second full moon.

The first one hadn’t felt like yours. It had felt like his.

But this one... this one would belong to you.

You didn’t know what was worse. Being attacked by a werewolf, or becoming one.

Scratch that. It was probably worse.

You don’t knock when you walk into the infirmary this time. You’ve grown used to the echo of your own steps in the quiet, used to the soft rustle of bed sheets and the way the scent of healing herbs settles like a ghost in the corners.

There’s no one visible as you enter, only half-pulled curtains and the faint clink of glass from the shelves.

You don’t know if it’s nerves or exhaustion but your limbs feel disconnected, as though you’re walking in someone else’s skin. You take a deep breath, not sure whether it’s to settle yourself or to delay the words you know you’re about to say.

Madam Pomfrey’s back is to you when you speak. She’s bent near one of the cabinets, humming faintly as she arranges vials, unaware of what your words will do.

“I need the Wolfsbane.”

You expect a turn of the head, but what you get instead is a sharp, broken inhale from behind the curtain on your left—one you hadn’t noticed shifting just seconds ago.

What you don’t expect is the sound of a breath catching behind the curtain. A sudden shift of fabric. The echo of feet dragging backward across the tile.

“What... what did you just say?”

The voice is familiar.

You turn.

Remus steps out from behind the curtain, and your heart stumbles inside your chest at the sight of him.

He looks worse than he did last time you saw him—hollowed out, pale, like he hasn't eaten, hasn’t slept, hasn’t touched the world with anything but guilt.

His uniform hangs off his shoulders like he doesn't care if it fits anymore. But it's his eyes that knock the air from your lungs, because they’re already shining with tears, already staring at you like he knows what you said, like he wishes he hadn’t heard it.

“Wolfsbane?” Remus’s voice cuts through the stillness like a crack of thunder.

“Why would you need the Wolfsbane?”

You open your mouth, but no sound comes out.

Remus takes a step forward. His voice is rough, but soft. “Tell me it’s not what I think it is.”

Madam Pomfrey straightens, eyes flicking between you both, calm but alert, as if she already knows where this is going and is preparing for impact.

You want to look at her, to ask her to intervene, but your eyes are locked to his, and it’s too late.

“Why do you need Wolfsbane?” Remus repeats, louder this time. “That potion is for—” he stops, chokes on the rest.

“Tell me you’re not—please tell me this isn’t because of what happened that night.”

You try to take a step forward, your hand half-raised, but he flinches like it burns him. “No—don’t—don’t come closer, I need—I just need you to say it.”

You glance toward Pomfrey for a second, your throat tight. “You bit me.”

The effect is instant.

The room seems to collapse inward. Remus staggers back a step as if you’d struck him.

Remus stumbles backward like your words struck him across the face. His hand goes out to the edge of the bed beside him, gripping the post so tightly his knuckles go white.

His chest rises unevenly. He stares at you for only a moment longer before his body begins to tremble. His breaths grow short. He gasps again, as if trying to catch a lungful of air but never quite reaching it.

Madam Pomfrey steps forward, alarm blooming in her tone. “Remus, breathe. Sit down—Remus, now—”

You step toward him, your voice gentle. “Remus, please just let me explain. I’m alright, I’m okay—”

But he jerks away from you as if the air between you burns.

“Don’t touch me,” he whispers, and it’s not full of anger—it’s full of something far worse. It’s full of shame, panic, and the unraveling of every wall he had left.

Your fingers curl tighter around it as you take another hesitant step forward, hand half-extended, trying to reach him.

But your sleeve catches on the metal frame of the bed.

The bracelet snags.

You hear it before you see it—the soft, unmistakable snap of string breaking. Then, the sound of beads spilling across stone. Dozens of tiny clatters like raindrops against tile.

Remus flinches at the noise. His eyes widen as he watches them roll—blue, red, yellow, green—across the floor like they’re pieces of you falling apart right in front of him.

Your breath shudders out, catching painfully in your throat.

“Remus, please—” you start again, but your words die before they leave your mouth.

He doesn’t speak again. He just shakes his head, fingers in his hair now, breath stuttering painfully out of him as though he’s being crushed from the inside. His eyes are wide, his jaw clenched tight, and you can see the exact second he stops trying to hold it together.

Then he turns on his heel, shoves open the infirmary door with both hands, and bolts.

You don’t chase him. You don’t even move.

The Wolfsbane is still cradled in your hand, but it might as well be a brand. You feel it weighing on your palm like a confession. The curtain still sways behind him. Madam Pomfrey stands silently at your side.

And Remus is gone.

Again.

The silence that follows is thick and airless, broken only by the soft clink of a bead rolling across stone.

You stare at the floor, the scattered colors like remnants of something you can’t piece back together. The Wolfsbane still sits in your palm, heavy and cold, and your fingers curl slowly around it.

Somewhere down the corridor, you hear the echo of footsteps, unsteady and retreating.

Remus doesn’t remember how he makes it out of the infirmary. One second he’s staring at the bottle of Wolfsbane clenched in your hand, the next his legs are carrying him through the corridor, unthinking, uneven, as though running will somehow outrun what he just heard. And all Remus could think was—he did this.

[i'd say play NFWMB by Hozier here <33 its so them rn]

He bursts into the Gryffindor common room, gasping for breath. His chest aches. The sound of his own heartbeat is thundering in his ears, and for a moment he thinks he might throw up or pass out or both.

He stumbles through the stairwell to the dormitory, legs heavy, throat dry, lungs burning. His skin is clammy, fingers twitching with tremors he can’t control.

The world feels too loud, too fast, and none of it is real except for the scream echoing in his head: I did this. I did this. I did this.

When he crashes through the door, James is the first thing he sees.

James stands quickly, eyes wide, his face losing color at the sight of him. "Remus? Bloody hell—what happened? Remus, look at me. What—"

But Remus is already crumbling. “J-James,” he stammers, chest heaving, voice breaking over itself like it can’t hold the weight of his panic.

“I—I turned her. I turned her, James, she was holding it, the potion, and she said—she said it—”

He chokes on the next breath. His knees give out and he hits the floor hard, curling in, hands pulling at his hair, heart racing in a way that has James lunging forward without a second thought.

James drops beside him, gripping his shoulders. “Remus, hey, breathe. Moons, you’re not breathing, you have to breathe. Please, just—come back to me, look at me!”

“She’s going to transform,” Remus gasps out, nearly sobbing now. “I did that, I bit her, I changed her, and she didn’t even tell me. Why would she? Why would she ever want me near her again?”

He’s unraveling too fast, shaking so violently James has to hold him to keep him grounded.

“You didn’t mean to,” James says, his voice trembling with urgency and raw, aching fear that threatens to break him apart. His eyes search Remus’s face, desperate to pierce through the weight of guilt and despair crushing him. “Moony, you didn’t know. You never would’ve done it if you had.”

His hands move gently but firmly, brushing a damp curl from Remus’s forehead. But Remus is trembling now—small, shaky movements rippling through him, panic clawing at his chest like wildfire. His breaths come fast, shallow, unsteady. The world seems to tilt and blur.

James’s voice grows more urgent, desperate. “You’re not alone. We’re here. We’ve always been here. And no matter what—no matter what—you have to listen. I fucking love you, Remus. I love Sirius too, no matter how much of an idiot he can be. And I love her, and I swear I won’t let anything happen to any of you.”

He grips Remus’s shoulders firmly, his voice breaking but unwavering, a lifeline thrown in the storm. “So please, Remus—please, I beg you—wake up! Pull yourself together. She needs you. We need you. I need you!”

Remus lets out a sound that isn’t quite a word. “I should have known. I was supposed to protect her, not curse her. I was supposed to keep her safe and instead I—I made her like me. I turned her into a fucking monster.”

“No, no-” James breathes, dragging Remus’s face into his hands. “No, don’t say that. Don’t even think it. You are not a monster, Remus, and neither is she.”

Remus sobs, head shaking violently, eyes wild. “She’s going to hate me, Jamie. She’s going to hate me for doing this to her.”

James pulls him into a tighter hold, forehead pressed to his. His voice cracks on every syllable.

“She’s not alone. She is not alone. We’re still here, and you, Remus, you are the one she needs. She doesn’t need me. She doesn’t need Sirius. She needs you!”

He swallows hard, breath hitching.

“She needs the one person who understands. Who’s been there, who knows what it feels like. You are the only one who can reach her where she is. You are the only one who can walk her through this without fear, and she deserves that. She deserves you, but not like this, Remus. Not if you keep hiding. You can’t help her if you’re breaking too.”

Remus shudders, trying to breathe but failing.

James cups his face again, firmer this time. “Please. Look at me.”

Remus finally does. Eyes glassy, chest still rising and falling far too fast.

James nods, soft and fierce. “You’ve spent two weeks punishing yourself. Two weeks wasting away while she tried to heal without us. You love her, right?”

Remus swallows, then nods once.

“Then prove it.”

Remus is trembling again. Then, in a voice so fractured it barely sounds like his own, he whispers the words that have haunted him for days:

“I need Sirius.”

The door opens before the echo of his voice fades.

Sirius is already rushing inside.

He looks like hell—pale, eyes bloodshot, lips chapped from gnawing at them. He doesn’t say anything at first, doesn’t even hesitate. Just drops down beside Remus and pulls him into his arms, hands weaving into his hair as he holds him tight.

“I’m here, Moony,” Sirius whispers, voice frayed at the edges. “I’m here.”

Remus crumbles.

Finally.

The sobs come loud and guttural, his entire frame shaking between the two boys who love him more than life itself. James stays there, one hand still on his back, the other gripping Sirius's shoulder like he can hold all of them together through sheer will.

Now that the chaos has settled (though settled is a generous lie) Remus finds himself wrapped in the arms of the two boys he loves most in the world.

Sirius’s chest is pressed firm to his back, his breath slow and shaky against Remus’s neck, and James kneels before him, steady hands bracketing his knees like he might come apart if not anchored.

His hair is gently pushed back from his face, fingertips carding through it as though smoothing out knots could undo the ones curling tight in his chest. He is held, so tenderly, so reverently, and it breaks him.

And then—he’s being bathed. This time, it isn’t your hands scrubbing away the grime he’s let crust over his skin these past weeks, nor your voice murmuring soft reassurances as your fingers work the soap through his hair.

It’s Sirius, hands trembling, his touch barely steady as he pours warm water over Remus’s head, cautious as if too much pressure might fracture him completely.

Beside them, James moves with gentle certainty, helping Remus into a shirt, guiding his arms through the sleeves with the careful tenderness one uses when dressing a child.

There are a thousand things they need to talk about.

A thousand thoughts chasing each other in circles through Sirius’s mind as he helps Remus out the tub. A thousand things James keeps almost saying as he buttons Remus’s shirt wrong the first time. A thousand things Remus should be thinking of.

He should be planning how to speak to you, how to beg for forgiveness. He should be figuring out how to navigate the next full moon—how it will change now that there are two werewolves. Will the wolves recognize each other? Will they clash? Will they understand?

There is fear, thick and unspoken in him. Fear of what’s coming. Fear of what’s already happened. And yet—Remus can’t hold any of it in his mind.

Because it’s like trying to hold water in a shaking hand, no matter how desperate the grasp, and the harder he tries to catch a thought, the more it bleeds away—his mind unable to hold anything at all.

And yet, for all the noise and fear and chaos clawing at the edges, what Remus’s mind clings to is one stupid, aching, utterly devastating thought—maybe the stupidest thing in the world to be thinking right now.

Are they going to fix the bracelet that broke?

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jo-com · 1 year ago

Note

Charles jealous and possessive please 🔥 Smut. Thank you so much ❤️

₊˚⊹♡ ➛ le mien

Charles Leclerc x Fem!reader

Summary: Part 2 of Mine

Genre: DARK fic.

Word: 2.03k words

TW: baby trapping, p and c penetration, possessiveness, jealousy, branding, manipulation, obsessive behavior, bit angsty, corruption, brainwashing, wrap it before you tap it folks and overall messed up shit. This is not proofread and there are some grammatical error also google translated french. if uncomfortable minors do not interact!!

─────── ─ ♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧ ─ ───────

Y/username just posted!

Liked by Charles_Lecler, Francisca.cgomes, Carlossainz55 and 1,290,456 others

Y/username Happy 4th Anniversary Mon amour!

Charles_Leclerc i love you so much darling!

Y/username i love you more💋💋💋

Carlossainz55 Stay strong guys!

User1 Cutest Couple ever🙈

User2 JUST GET MARRIED ALREADY

User3 Agreed😍

Y/bff The cutest fr

❤️ liked by the author

Arthur_Leclerc Congrats bro!

❤️ liked by charles_leclerc and author

…

Despite all the love you share on social media, nothing can compare to the real truth that exists beyond the internet.

People don't see the things he does behind closed doors—all those emotional abuse, obsessive behavior, and possessiveness. Never, even once, do people know that it's happening between the two of you.

All they know is the sweet words you guys share in each other's posts and the way you act whenever there are people around you two—all sweet and loving like one of those fairy tale romances you read. But behind all that, they don't see how hurt you are mentally. It was happening constantly, and you were so used to it that you became numb and just succumbed to the growing pain you feel inside.

To the point where you act like his puppet—doing everything that pleases him, and acting the way he wants you to.

You never once complained, thinking that it was just how love goes.

You were a fool. A fool blinded by "love".

...

"Hey y/n/n, are you alright? Me and mom have been worried about you; you haven't been going to our usual family gathering." your sister asked over the phone.

It was true; you haven't been going to those gatherings for a while now, only because Charles said, "It's not safe to go outside," and of course, like the sweet girlfriend doll you were, you followed his words.

You stared blankly, your mind wandering off. You tend to get lost in thoughts nowadays, and you're not sure why. Maybe it's from the stress you've been feeling, but you just brushed it off like it was nothing.

"Yeah, I am good. I've just been busy lately, you know? Keeping the house safe and everything," you chuckled dryly.

"You know I can tell when there's something wrong, right? So just tell me."

Before you could answer, Charles walked into the room. With one hand holding Leo, he was snuggled up nice and cozy in his embrace. His eyes roamed around the room searching for you; his gaze then fell prey on your meek figure—you sat there holding the phone in one hand while the other rested on the softly fabricated couch. You looked angelic, as if untouched by any form of evil.

Then again, Charles wasn't just any form of evil; he was the reincarnation of the devil himself, and he wanted nothing more than to corrupt your innocence.

With a soft smile, Charles walked to where you sat, sitting beside you and settling leo down on his lap.

"Who are you talking to poupée (doll)?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Oh, just my sister; we were just catching up on things." You muttered, your voice quivering slightly; you don't know whether you were scared or just have some sore throat that made your voice crack.

Charles looked at you in disbelief, his eyes narrowing with skepticism, and simply turned his attention back at Leo. "Hang up the phone," he said bluntly, not even sparing you a glance.

"But baby, we were just talking." You tried to argue with him, telling him that you just wanted to chat with your sister, but as usual, he blocked your words of plea and glared at you—he always does that, looking at you as if he were judging your whole soul.

His eyes have always been your weakness; they both scare and pleasure you at the same time. Charles knows that, and he uses it to his advantage every time.

The atmosphere in the room was heavy; you could feel it weighing down and crushing your spirit.

Sighing defeatedly, you had no choice but to end the call with your sister and not further complicate things.

"Hey, uhm, sis, I'll just call you back, okay? Something just came up."

You didn't even let your sister respond before hanging up the call. Charles hummed contentedly and patted the seat next to him. At that very moment, you felt angry with him, but you knew that you couldn't do anything about it, so you sucked it up and sat beside him. Leaning close to his embrace.

"Bonne fille, ma chérie (good girl, my darling)," he mumbbled softly, kissing the roof of your head.

...

Charles gripped your waist tightly, his jaws clenched, and hands balled up to a fist. He half-ass smiled at the man, trying to compose himself—fighting back the urges to beat the shit out of the guy in front of them.

He saw the way he looked at you; his eyes scanned each and every part of your body like you were some kind of art on display. fucking disgusting.

You, on the other hand, held on to him, almost ripping the fabric of his clothes with your tight grip. You paid no mind to the guy he was talking to and just stared at the bustling room; in there, people were having fun, dancing, and drinking with others.

At that moment, you didn't care about Charles or who he was conversing with; all you wanted was to spring free from his embrace and just party wild with others. Was that too much to ask for?

For him, it was. If it was legal, he wanted nothing more than to lock you up and live the rest of your lives together. So, having that idea was just wishful thinking—it never hurts to dream, though.

"I'll see you around, yeah?" The man asked, earning a subtle nod from Charles as an acknowledgment.

"Quel putain de cinglé (what a fucking weirdo)," he mumbled under his breath, his accent making the words sound more spiteful and venomous.

You didn't hear him say that. You were too busy to admire people's enjoyment and bask in the laughter and smiles that surround you. How could people be as care free like that? The ache on your heart only grows fonder. Oh, how you wish you could do the same.

With your head up in the clouds, you didn't seem to notice the angry monegasque that stood beside you, cursing you in any language he knew. The next thing you felt was a harsh sting that rested on your jaw.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? I've been trying to talk to you! What are you even looking at? Are you cheating on me, Chienne (Bitch)?" he yelled, not even caring anymore if people heard him.

Your breath hitches, eyes widening, and heart racing fast.

His hands were now on your jaws, gripping them with sheer strength. You didn't know what was going on or why this was happening to you. You were always so nice and never did anything to cause harm, so why?

All those questions in your mind made your vision go blurry and your head spin, causing you to black out on the spot.

...

You woke up the next day with a pounding headache and only bits of memories of what happened that night. "Ouch," you winced, massaging your head to try and ease the pain.

As if on cue, Charles walked in with medicine on his left hand and a glass of water on the right.

His face lit up, seeing that you were now awake. He softly smiled and walked towards your shared bed. The matress dipped down as he sat next to your sitting body.

"Are you feeling better, mon amour?" he asked. His hand was about to stroke your cheeks, but out of reflex, your body flinched at his sudden movement.

That made Charles frown. You know how bipolar his mood has been; that's why you've been extra careful not to ruin it. You were expecting him to be mad, but what happened was the opposite. He only sighed deeply and lowered his head.

"I am sorry, Mon cœur." Your being shocked was an understatement; in fact, you were flabergasted at his words. You never knew that hearing him say that would make you want to tear up.

"Hey, baby, it's okay. I know you didn't mean for it to happen," you assured him, and rubbed circles around his arm.

And just like that, Charles once again got you wrapped around his finger. You were way too easy to convince and so naive that you'd fall for anything he said.

He slowly lift up his head and gave you a light smile.

You then melted at his expression, it was silly of you to think that a face like that could ever harm you. he would never do that.

...

"Fuck, Charlie, put it in already, please," you begged, your eyes watering from the overstimulation. His hands gripped your waist tighter—muscles flexing in the process.

"You're so needy for my cock, mon amour," he breathes out.

The two of you have been at it for half an hour now, both out of breath and with marks made by one another. Your bodies were sticky with each other's bodily fluids, but you guys paid no mind to that. Only focusing on reaching the pleasure you both wanted so badly.

Without wasting a second, Charles huridly inserted his dick into your aching core. Your eyes widened from the sudden sensation between your thighs; you could feel how he was stretching you, and the need for him to satisfy you only increased.

"Move, please" you said, your voice quivering and hands scratching his back to let out some of the pain.

Your legs instantly rested on his lower hip, wanting to keep him as close to you as possible. You don't know why you're acting like that, but you suddenly got the urge to mount him and fuck him till dawn.

"Shit baby, you're always so tight," he chuckled, his left hand settled in the headboard while his right hand played with the nub of your tits.

His hips clashed with yours, making the two of you a moaning mess. Charles then dove down to your breast and licked it, biting and teasing them. He made sure to leave plenty of marks.

"Oh god, i..i am about to come," you gasped, your toes curling from the rush of adrenaline coursing through you.

"Just come for me, baby," he said, continuously pounding into you, your flesh crashing at each other and making a loud, smacking sound.

His hand then snaked up to hold onto your ankles, lifting it up. Shifting his dick into a deeper position.

With the new found position, your vision started to go blur; now only seeing nothing but stars. Your mind then turns hazy, and hands gripping tightly on the duvet sheet that scattered on the bed.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck" was the only thing you said before collapsing on the matress, your body convulsing with pleasure as your juices slowly fall down your flush tighs.

"Damn, all that for me, ma chérie?" Charles laughed, licking his lower lip at how ravishing you look; fucked out and cockdumb for him.

He continued to rut his hips to your overstimulated cunt. "Fuck, Je veux mettre un bébé en toi (i want to put a baby inside you)" he mumbled, not minding your state and carried on fucking you into an oblivion.

"I'ma fill you with my cum, make you a mama and the fill you up again....fuck" he rambled, his hips never stoping, not until he reach his high.

And after a few more thrust, he finally came inside of you— his eyes rolling in the back of his head with satisfaction. He continued to rut into you; not wanting to spill his cum and then coating your walls with his white seed.

You were sure to get pregnant by that and after that, you two are going to be tied forever, just like he planned.

...

yeah that was pure filth, hope you guys like it though! My requests are always open.

866 notes · View notes

vanteguccir · 1 year ago

Text

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤTRUTH OR EAT * CHRIS STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　where Y/N participates in the TRUTH OR EAT video from behind the camera.

FEATURING　Chris Sturniolo x reader　REQUESTED?　no.

WARNINGS　::　none.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

"What's the most romantic thing you've ever done?" Matt asked, taking his eyes off the open black notebook in front of him and focusing them on Chris, his hands playing with the green highlighter.

Chris let out a breathy laugh, looking beyond the camera, his blue eyes meeting Y/N's, who smiled, raising her eyebrows, awaiting her boyfriend's response.

"I think there are two most romantic things I've ever done, both obviously with Y/N, since she's the only girlfriend I've ever had. I know you only asked for one, but I can think of two with different spheres." Chris began, looking at Matt momentarily, who nodded.

"Hurry up Chris." Nick ordered with a smile on his face as he took Matt's notebook, already anticipating his brother's response. Being Y/N's best friend, he had inside information.

"The first was last year, when Y/N and I completed three years of dating and I gifted her a trip for both of us to Italy." Chris smiled big, his eyes shining as he counted while Nick and Matt looked at him with matching smiles, happy for their brother's happiness. "She always dreamed of visiting Italy, it being her favorite place in the world, and when the three years together came I thought this was the ideal way to celebrate. I really wanted to see her happy and achieving her dream."

"I remember that, it was the longest the three of us were apart from each other because you were there for seven days." Matt commented, nodding his head.

"Yes, I remember Chris planning the entire trip. We went to that travel agency with him and helped him choose the perfect package with the best hotel and best tours. It was like a honeymoon without a wedding." Nick continued Matt's reasoning.

"I was so nervous when I went to give her the envelope with the plane tickets, I don't know why, but I thought everything was going to go wrong." Chris said, rolling his eyes when Nick and Matt started laughing, commenting that they remembered all the times he asked if it was good enough or if they thought Y/N would like it.

The girl smiled big behind the camera, her eyes lit up with happiness as memories of the trip flashed through her mind.

"So I think that's one of the most romantic things I've done for her, and the other one I didn't even realize was that romantic until Y/N pointed it out to me." Chris began, gesturing with his hands, organizing the mess of tacos in front of him. "She has a horrible habit of tying only one bow on her sneaker, which makes the shoelaces come untied more easily. Whenever we're walking together, I'm the one who notices the untied sneaker first, so I always stop her, kneel down in just one knee, take her foot with the untied sneaker and place it on top of my other knee, and tie the shoelace for her-"

Chris stopped in his speech when he saw Nick and Matt making exaggerated expressions of surprise and "dying in love", laughing together, making him roll his eyes and look at his girlfriend in disbelief, who laughed quietly, sending him a wink, causing a blush to grow on his cheeks.

"May I continue?" The middle brother asked loudly, looking at Nick and Matt with a bored expression.

"Sorry." The two said in unison, wiping their eyes from the tears from their exaggerated laughter.

"And also when Y/N wears high heels on certain occasions, whenever we go out of the house together I don't let her buckle her heels, I kneel down on one knee and buckle them for her. This is kind of an act of service but that she finds super romantic, and I realized that it really is when I saw that no couple around us do it. There are many more romantic things that I have done for her, but if I were to say everything the video would last more than an hour. " Chris finished, smiling broadly and holding up a tumb to the camera, blowing an air kiss to his girlfriend, who pretended to take it with one hand and put it in her pocket.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

"Okay, next question, how long have you gone without showering?" Nick asked, glancing briefly at the question in the notebook before closing it with the highlighter in the middle, focusing his attention on Chris.

"Since almost four years ago I've been showering every day, Y/N rules!" Chris began, raising his arms in surrender. Nick let out a laugh as he looked at Y/N and saw her nodding quickly with her arms crossed.

Matt quickly looked at the girl when he saw Nick looking at her, laughing at her expression.

"Before I met my beautiful, perfect girlfriend, it was a weekend." Chris said, laughing as he mentioned his girlfriend in a joking tone.

"No, it was more than that. I know how long it was, let me answer." Matt jumped in, taking a sip of his soda when Nick told him to shut up, the sound of a low chuckle echoing faintly through the kitchen as Y/N tried to stop herself from laughing, watching the brothers bickering.

"I've already gone without showering from a Friday night until a Monday morning." Chris concluded, Nick muttering that he had already done the same. "Like, four days." He added.

"That example is less than four days, Chris." Nick commented while laughing, Matt following him.

"I'm a changed man, I don't do those things anymore." Chris said, crossing his arms and lifting his chin with a snobbish expression, increasing Nick and Matt's laughter.

"You men are so disgusting." Y/N whispered only for the three to hear, rolling her eyes.

Matt looked at her with an offended expression.

"Yeah guys, if I go a day without showering I'll sleep on the couch." Chris said looking at the camera as he opened the package of the next taco, putting an end to that discussion.

Nick passed the notebook back to Matt, starting the timer again so that Chris could go back to eating while Matt searched for the perfect question.

"The time is over!" The redhead announced, looking briefly at his phone screen while Matt closed the notebook, already with his question in mind.

"Okay, give me the inside scoop of the perfect Chris Sturniolo date night looks like?"

"What is this, Y/N who created my questions?" Chris asked after finishing chewing, letting out a laugh through his nose, his blue eyes looking briefly at his girlfriend only to see her with her arms raised in surrender as if she didn't know anything.

"Just answer the question Chris." Nick pressed, turning to face him.

"Can I give an example of a date I had with Y/N and we always do it again because it was really good for us?" Chris asked, arranging the napkin on the table as he glanced briefly at his brothers, who nodded. "Okay, I guess first I have to establish here that for me, when it's a date, it's literally a whole date day. On my first date with Y/N, I picked her up with an Uber in the morning with a bouquet of flowers since I don't know how to drive and I didn't want to bother Matt, and we had brunch at a cafe attached to a bookstore, because when we were getting to know each other she said that she really liked reading books and drinking coffee. Boys, understand one fundamental thing, listen to everything your girl likes and has to say, it will help you a lot and contribute to your relationship." The boy said, pointing to the camera as he said the last part.

Y/N felt her body heat up with shyness and love as she remembered that day, holding herself back from going to Chris to hug him tightly and shower his face with kisses.

"Afterwards we went for a walk around the city while we talked and I took her to a place where they only have those teddy bear catching machines, you know?" He looked at his brothers receiving nods. "And we stayed there for a while, where I got her a teddy bear, she still sleeps with it to this day."

Chris informed the last part in a whisper as if it was a secret, ignoring his girlfriend who rolled her eyes exaggeratedly.

"Afterwards, as we were still satisfied from brunch, I took her to an amusement park close to where we were and we stayed there for hours, we even had dinner there at one of the hot dog stands, I remember I bought her some cotton candy later and I will never forget her happiness because of it." He counted with shining eyes, rolling his eyes at his brothers who made gestures of vomiting. "And finally, I took her to a park that had a lake with ducklings and we walked around there and fed them for a few hours, that's where we also had our first kiss." Nick and Matt made air-kissing gestures, making fun of Chris, who pushed their faces with his hands. "That was my perfect date."

The boy finished, smiling big and taking the taco in his hand, ready to finish eating and start to ask Nick questions.

"You two are so disgusting." Matt said in a joking tone, passing the notebook to Nick, knowing that Chris would sit there.

Y/N smiled behind the camera, her cheeks already hurting from how much she was doing it, her heart warming up while hearing Chris talk about them with so much love, feeling like she could fall in love with him all over again.

extra - comments:

"omg Chris seems like a really great boyfriend!!"

"they are so pretty together."

"one day I want to have a partner who cares about me as much as Chris cares about Y/N."

"the fact that he took her TO ITALY just because he wanted to see her happy 😭"

"Chris, the last romantic man on earth."

"the way he talks about her 😫"

"get married already."

"petition for Y/N and Chris to make a video talking about all his romantic acts ✏️📄"

2K notes · View notes

theliteraryarchitect · 6 months ago

Text

So... What Does an Editor Actually Do?

First off, “editor” is one of those words that causes a lot of confusion for writers. It seems simple—someone who works with words, right? But the truth is, “editor” can mean wildly different things depending on the context.

So, let’s clear things up.

When we’re talking about writing and publishing, “editor” usually refers to one of two roles:

1. The Gatekeeper: This is the person who commissions or selects work for a publication, like a magazine, newspaper, or publishing house. Think of phrases like “Her book was chosen by the editor at [Big Fancy Publisher].”

2. The Helper: This is the person who works directly with writers to improve their work. They might suggest revisions, clarify ideas, and polish the manuscript for grammar and style.

Both are called “editors,” but their jobs are completely different. To make things more confusing, in smaller operations (like indie presses), these roles often overlap. The same editor might choose your story for publication and offer stylistic or copyedits before it goes to print.

The 4 Types of Editing

Beyond the word “editor,” the types of editing writers encounter also vary widely, further boggling the mind. Here’s a quick breakdown of the four main types of editing your manuscript might go through:

1. Developmental Editing

This is the kind of editing I do, and the kinds of issues that are covered by the majority of my blog posts. Developmental editing:

• Focuses on the “big picture” of your story—plot, character, pacing, worldbuilding, and structure.

• Asks questions like: Does the ending make sense? Are the characters believable? Is the story too slow?

• This is the most intensive (and expensive) type of editing because it shapes the foundation of your book.

2. Stylistic Editing (Line Editing)

I don't do this kind of editing for my clients, but I occasionally publish line editing tips on this blog because I'm kind of a nerd about it :) Line editing:

• Works on clarity and flow at the sentence and paragraph level.

• Addresses repetition, awkward phrasing, and other issues that muck up your writing flow.

• Happens after developmental editing—no point polishing a scene if it might get cut!

3. Copy Editing

Once in a while I give copy editing tips on this blog, but they're usually wrong and I'm promptly corrected. Let it be known: The Literary Architect is a terrible copy editor. Copy editing:

• Focuses on technical details like spelling, grammar, punctuation, and consistency (e.g., making sure a character’s blue eyes don’t randomly turn brown).

• Think of this as quality control for your manuscript.

4. Proofreading

• The very last step before publication. The proofreader checks for any typos or layout issues that might have slipped through the cracks.

Whether you’re submitting to a publisher or self-publishing, editing matters. Great stories get rejected because they weren’t polished enough. And self-published books that skip editing often lose readers due to glaring errors or clunky prose.

If hiring a professional editor isn’t in the cards, learning to self-edit can help you get your manuscript into the best possible shape before publication. That way, if you do decide to bring in an editor later, they can focus on the deeper work instead of fixing things you could have tackled yourself.

Hope this helps!

/ / / / / / / / / / /

@theliteraryarchitect is a writing advice blog run by me, Bucket Siler, a writer and developmental editor. For more writing help, download my Free Resource Library for Fiction Writers, join my email list, or check out my book The Complete Guide to Self-Editing for Fiction Writers.

#writeblr #writing advice #writing tips #fiction #writers on tumblr #writers #editing #editing advice #from the editor's desk

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topazadine · 11 months ago

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Writing Post Masterlist

All my posts about writing - plus some I absolutely loved by other writers.

Masterlists by Other People (all good)

"Writing Tips Masterpost" by @deception-united - Deception-United has an incredibly wealth of resources available, far more comprehensive and detailed than mine. Go check it out!

"WQA Post Master Lists" by @writingquestionsanswered - Another fantastic and wonderfully comprehensive resource that covers damn near everything you need to know about writing. Genuinely one of the best free resources on writing that you could find on the internet.

General Advice for a Happy Writing Life

"The Myth of the Martyr Artist" - An incredibly important post, perhaps my most important one ever, that discusses why mental illness is a burden, not a benefit. I have no idea why this even needs to be said, but it does, apparently.

"Building Self-Esteem as a Writer" - Why you gotta be nice to yourself. You gotta.

"Identifying bad writing advice" - Warning signs that the post you are reading kinda sucks and you should click off.

"Advice to Beginner Writers: The Good, the Bad, and the Unpleasant" - How long it takes to become a good writer, what to focus on when learning, and why fanfic is such a useful tool.

"Mindset Shifts: Fanfiction -> Original Fiction" - What fanfic writers should know about deciding to take on original characters and stories.

"Defeating Protracted Writer's Block" - What to do when you find it impossible to write for days, weeks, or months at a time.

"Five Common Anxieties of Newbie Writers, Demystified" - Explorations of five mindsets that can set younger writers back as they learn their craft, including overcompetitiveness, overdescribing, and fearing they're "too old."

"Good Motivations for Continuing to Write" - Why it is crucial to have a passion for writing beyond fame and fortune.

"Extremely controversial writing opinions that will make you mad (but I'm going to say them anyway)" - Things you really don't want to hear, but need to be said. A bit of tough love, including the insignificance of ideas, the cold hard truth about how non-writers react to your writing, and the essentiality of having a well-rounded life.

"Why Mindfulness Is a Key Practice for Writers" - On the need to slow down and let our brain rest - plus some options that are categorically not sitting there in dead silence (boring).

"Writing When Happy" - Wherein I hijack someone's question to discuss the Myth of the Martyr Artist, why we might self-limit because of it, and how to do the impossible: write when we're happy.

"The Neurodivergent Writer’s Guide to Fun and Productivity" by @bookishdiplodocus - Excellent advice on how enjoying the process and reminding yourself that writing is supposed to be fun can help you stay motivated and productive, even when your brain is not cooperating.

"The Glorification of Self-Deprecation in Art/Writing Spaces" by @nicolkoutoulakiauthor - I've discussed before how crucial it is to have a healthy self-esteem when writing, but Nicol does it even better here. Nicol also includes some excellent reframing tactics so you can stay motivated.

Generalish Writing Advice (multifactorial)

"Signs That You Will Probably Finish Your Writing Project" - An analysis of the mindset that leads to results, and encouragement on how to develop them.

"'How Do I Start Writing?'" (Or; A Psychoanalysis of Newbie Writer Fears) - Inspired by the dozens of Reddit posts that ask this exact same thing, often with useless responses. So why do people ask this? I offer my theory.

"I Can Think of Ideas But Can't Write Them!" - A consideration of the many reasons you might find it difficult to get started on your precious idea-baby.

"How to elevate your writing style with 6 simple hacks" - Information about how to develop a prettier prose style, catch errors, develop good dialogue, and focus on brevity.

"How to improve your writing style : a 5-steps guide" by @writer-logbook - Especially great information on why reading widely is so helpful for your craft!

"Some Writing Advice" by @whispers-whump - Especially great discussion of why you shouldn't write what you mean.

"Practical Writing Advice Part 2" by @so-many-ocs - Does what it says on the tin. Simple, easy-to-follow advice that can break you out of writer's block.

"25 Prose Tips for Writers" by @thewriteadviceforwriters - I absolutely love the emphasis on sound and harmony here. As someone whose entire book series revolves around the magic of poetry, of course I think this is incredibly important advice!

"Pacing and Show Don't Tell" by @mylordshesacactus - Two for one deal! First, learn more about why pacing is important; then, look at some examples of the classic advice "show, don't tell." The post does a great job on breaking down what show don't tell actually means and what is not a violation of this guideline so that newer writers aren't confused.

Writing tools

"How to Build a Sustainable Writing Habit Through SCIENCE (Fuck Off, NaNoWriMo)" - Why NaNoWriMo doesn't actually motivate young writers and how to do better through a spreadsheet (yes, really, a spreadsheet). It also explains the importance of intrinsic motivation!

"'I've Outlined Too Much and Now I Can't Write!' (Or: the Double Outline Method for Overanxious Plotters)" - Some of us tend to go absolutely ham on our outlines, to the point where they're practically their own books. But then we also tend to not actually do the writing attached to said outline. Does this mean outlining is useless? Of course not. My method lets you have your outline and eat it too. (.... Wait.)

"'How Do I Make Myself Start Writing?' (Tips to Get the Damn Thing Done) - In this post, I provide a step-by-step guide to start writing, including a few tools to help improve motivation and concentration.

"How to Write Faster (And, Hopefully, Better Too)" - Eliminating distractions and forcing your brain to write is key to getting more done. Here, I explain how you might be limiting yourself by too much thinking and not enough doing.

Worldbuilding

"Stop Making Everything So Damn Complicated!" - Why fantasy (and scifi) does not need to be dizzyingly intricate to be enjoyable.

"How to Kick Ass at Worldbuilding" - I offer some suggestions on how to create a grounded and interesting world that will not bore your readers, based on real life examples.

"Grounded vs. Airy Fantasy" by @aethersea - Excellent breakdown of different levels of groundedness in fantasy and why it's important to understand your own approach.

"Fantasy Guide to Building a Culture" by @inky-duchess - Thorough and methodical analysis of what can create a compelling fantasy culture, including those things that many fail to think about when writing.

"Writing tip - Research" by @pygmi-cygni - Fantastic assessment of the importance of research, including for fantasy stories. As Pygmi-Cygni said, a lot of people claim that they don't need to do any research for fantasy novels, which isn't true! Any parallels to IRL need to be realistic, or you will lose credibility.

Plotting

"How to Use Chomolungma for Writing Adventure Stories; Or, the Plot Mountain Method" - If you're sick of saving felines who should really figure their own shit out, it's time to head to Plot Mountain. In this post, I offer you an alternative to the formulaic "Save the Cat" and "Hero's Journey" which also incorporates tension, characterization, and forward momentum.

"Avoiding Melodrama In Your Writing" - The most annoying all things: melodrama. My least favorite thing. Do not do it. I will show you how.

"How to Find a Plot When All You Have is Characters and Setting" by @rheas-chaos-motivation - This is a common problem for many writers, when you have cool characters or an intriguing setting. This short post can help you kickstart your ideas for how to create an intriguing plot that has built-in tension.

Description

"Remembering Perspective When Writing Descriptions" - Key factors to think about when describing other characters or settings from your POV.

"Description, Momentum, and Tension; Or, How Not to Bore a Reader" - Why, when, and where to put description so that people don't skip over it. Hopefully.

"Writing Notes: Seasons" - Each season has both benefits and downsides. In this post, we look at the negatives and positive aspects of each so you can decide how a particular season may strengthen your themes - plus some descriptions to help inspire you.

"Writing Advice: Spicy Mundanity" - Wherein I explain how to stop having boring descriptions by packing in characterization.

"How to Write Smut?" by @unfriendlywriter - Wonderful examples of how to write heartstopping smut.

"How to pull off descriptions" by @fictionstudent - Fictionstudent has a ton of great posts, both about film analysis and about the art of writing. I especially liked this one because it discusses how important perspective is for descriptions and the importance of filling in the details as a character would rather than just throwing it all at the reader at one time.

"How to avoid White Room Syndrome" by @writerthreads - Fantastic and focused advice on how to ensure you're offering readers just enough setting to help them envision the world.

Characterization

"Writing Relatable Characters; Or, Using Human Failures to Your Advantage" - Explaining how you can use character flaws and human needs to create a relatable character. Also explains the basic development of a plot, which is about equilibrium.

"How NOT to Write a Character" - Wherein I give you some examples of annoying characters we want to punt off a cliff so you can watch yourself.

"Writing Strong Female Characters" - Why you should give your female characters a secret goal, as well as how to avoid common 'strong female' stereotypes.

"Writing Compelling Trauma in Fiction: Dos and Don'ts" - How to avoid melodrama and create intriguing emotional wounds for characters.

"Quality Assurance Checks for Character Development" - Thought exercises that can help you differentiate characters, prune down unnecessary characters, develop true chemistry between LI and MC, and avoid having too many POVs.

"Developing Character Agency (Or; Cutting the Plot Strings)" - A discussion of character agency and how to ensure your characters are not bound by the narrative.

"Writing Notes: Thought Distortions" by @literaryvein-reblogs - Some psychological concepts you can use in your writing to add depth to characters.

"Questions about your character’s perspective on love and relationships" by @luna-azzurra - Excellent questions that can help you delve into your character's attachment style, what baggage they may bring to a current relationship, and how to create conflict through mentality.

"How to Write a Confession of Love," also by luna-azzurra - Perfect discussion of how to create tension, the utility of setting, not making it perfect, and including the other character's response.

Revisions

"Common Writing Issues that Reduce Readability" - Examples of fixes for four common issues: double describing, long sentences, overexplaining, and head hopping.

"How to Avoid Purple Prose" - A critical part of the revision process is making sure your writing is clear and balanced. In this post, I show a blatant example of purple prose and provide suggestions on how to make a more elegant passage.

"Differential Diagnosis When Your Writing Is Getting Worse" by @ariaste - Fantastic explanation by a professional writer about why you might feel like your writing is getting worse and what to do about it.

"How to Make Your Writing Less Stiff Part 3" by @physalian - Physalian's whole blog has some excellent advice, so definitely give it a look!

"How to Improve Your Writing" - Also by literaryvein-reblogs, this offers some excellent exercises to help with sentence-level issues, such as modifiers, parallelism, and details.

Publishing

"How to promote your book online : a discussion about social media (and few tips)" by writer-logbook - Great tips about how to get more interest in your book. I especially enjoyed the emphasis on patience and consistency. Writer-logbook has some excellent info overall about the nitty-gritty of writing, so I definitely recommend poring through their blog in general. (That's why they're included here twice!)

"A masterclass in how not to market your books, in one singular tweet" - Wherein I help you derive lessons from an abysmal tweet by an author.

"Mistakes I Made When Self-Pubbing My First Book (Part 1: Mindset Edition)" - I talk about how being delulu is not the solulu, that yes marketing is important (even if it is horrible), and how a bit of self-confidence can go a long way.

"Mistakes I Made When Self-Pubbing My First Book (Part 2: Presentation Edition)" - Graphics and covers and blurbs! Learn about them. Do not do what I did.

"Mistakes I Made When Self-Pubbing My First Book (Part 3: Ads and Reviews Edition)" - Why you have to get reviews. You gotta. And you gotta demand them. Shake those reviews out of your readers. You'll thank me later.

Specific Research Advice

"Assassination Methods Through the Decades: A Writer’s Handbook" by @hayatheauthor - A thorough review of different assassination methods, including a section discussing common assassination methods by region!

"How to Write Someone in a Wheelchair" - A group effort! This is a reblog chain discussing body language in manual wheelchairs, the mechanics of power wheelchairs, wheelchair propulsion methods, and a reminder that just because someone is in a wheelchair doesn't mean they can't walk short distances.

"Writing Research Notes: Caves" - Oh caves how I love them. Caves. Let me tell you about them if you want to write about caves. Blessed.

"Writing Research Notes: Horses" - A beginner's guide to horse mindsets, whether horses like working, approaching horses, how to ride, and tips on training.

"Writing Research Notes: Bipolar Disorder" - Written by me, a writer with bipolar disorder! This shares basic facts about bipolar, offers a list of symptoms you can use, and cautions you against spreading misinformation through poor characterization or myths.

"Writing Research Notes: Politics" - I provide a quick overview about governments and international relations, based off my suffering while getting an MA in International Relations.

"Stop Doing This in Injury Fics!" by @pygmi-says-hi - Discusses some common errors when writing whump/angst. The fever part was especially helpful for me!

"Writing US Military Characters" by @lookbluesoup - An explanation of the habits and mentality of US military characters. Many of these were quite helpful for my fantasy military characters, so you can get a lot of mileage out of these for soldiers in other militaries too!

Little Funsies

"What Painting Style Is Your Writing?" - A short exploration of different writing styles to help you better understand your own approach.

I'll be adding onto this as I continue to scroll through my old likes and, of course, as I find more resources.

#writing #writing resources #writing tips #writing advice #writing help #how to write #fiction writing

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beckwritesfiction · 1 month ago

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Forbidden Lab Partners

pairing: Isaac Lahey x Female Reader

word count: 2.4k

warnings: Minors, do not interact! brief mentions of reader being abducted, porn with a plot, reader is a virgin, teen angst, mutual masturbation, dry humping, setup for part two

author's note: This is my first request in a while, but I did promise this to an antonymous reader months ago. See the post here. I'm inspired again, so here it is! This wasn't beta read, so excuse any errors. I was my own beta reader, which sometimes means missing a few mistakes.

It was hard for you to wrap your head around Scott McCall, the guy who you grew up with, being a werewolf. Your twin brother, Stiles, was his best friend, and it meant you were around him a lot. It was hard for Stiles and Scott to hide the truth from you for as long as they did, but Stiles thought it was for the best, and kept the secret to protect you. It was easier when you knew the truth, especially when it came to covering for Stiles with your dad.

Isaac Lahey wasn’t a stranger to you. He was your lab partner first and, at the command of Derek to get leverage over Scott and Stiles, your kidnapper for a short period of time. Scott saving you and Stiles’ crisis about what would’ve happened had you gotten hurt was how you found out the truth about werewolves. It also made you fear Isaac, which you didn’t think was possible. He was the nice, quiet guy who was way better at science than you. There were many times when you noticed the bruises, but you were far too afraid to bring it up.

His sharp turn from quiet loner to bad werewolf was disappointing to you—no matter how many times he insisted that Derek told him, Erica, and Boyd that they shouldn’t actually hurt you. It had been weeks since the incident, and the last thing you heard about Isaac was from Stiles: he was staying with Scott.

Your lab partner was sick, and instead of sitting with someone from the lacrosse team like he had for a while, Isaac sat beside you.

“Hey,” he said, his tone resembling the Isaac you knew; not the one Derek had created.

“Hi,” you replied, deciding it was best to leave it at that. He had something to say, and it was best to let him say it.

“I know I’m not really supposed to talk to you after what happened, so I’m sorry if I’m bothering you. I just… I wanted you to know that I wasn’t really thinking about anything other than doing what I was told. I didn’t realize I had a choice until Scott showed me that I do. I’m sorry about what I did. I should’ve told you we were going to hurt you when I took you that day.”

“I’m not that good of an actress, so I probably would’ve ruined your plan.”

“I’m still really sorry. You were the nicest person to me before people started noticing me. I was too afraid to talk to you back then beyond mitochondria and bacteria. I wish I would’ve.”

“That would’ve made it harder for me to forgive you.”

“You forgive me?” he asked hopefully.

“Everyone makes mistakes. Probably not on such a large scale, but not everyone has the problems you have. So sure,” you assured him. “And now the tables have turned. Well, maybe not. No one ever noticed me. Then or now. It’s the Stilinski curse.”

“I did,” Isaac admitted. “I do.”

All you could do was look at him. You were so surprised. Isaac wasn’t sure how to interpret the look on your face, so he added very quickly, “Sorry. I didn’t intend on making a move when I came over here. I really just wanted to tell you that I regret what I did, and I’m sorry. And if I could do it all over again, I’d be the one saving you, not throwing you in the back of a car.”

“Oh, so you’re making a move?” you asked with a smile. His smile was uncontrollable, and he had to look away at the board.

“You probably shouldn’t. Stiles said you’re not allowed to talk to me. And I’d definitely have a hard time following that rule if you asked me to hang out with you.”

“You wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from meeting me later to work on our project together? We’re lab partners again, right?”

“I don’t have a car, so you’d have to pick me up,” you said, your heart beating quickly. He made you nervous, and it would be a lie if you said he always made you this nervous. He was cute before, but now there was something so different about him. The bite that turned him into a werewolf not only gave him confidence, but a few more inches in height, and possibly even more toned arms. You went to all of Stiles’ games, even if he warmed the bench most of the time. You’d noticed Isaac’s arms before. And they were very different post-bite.

“I don’t, either,” he replied, looking a little conflicted.

“You’re… what you are now,” you decided to say, resisting the urge to say werewolf in public. “If you really want to, you’ll find a way to my house. My dad’s working overtime right now, and Stiles asked me to cover for him in case Dad comes home early. That means he’ll be out super late.”

“Yeah,” he said with a nod, biting back a smile.

The first time he was in your room, there was a certain tension that neither of you could ignore. He kept his distance, and you appreciated that at first. You actually did your work, and he helped you even when you didn’t need it. It became a regular thing, and you met so many nights in a row that you did most of the project when you still had weeks before the due date.

On the fifth night, he moved your hair out of your face when you were reading beside him on your bed.

“Do I scare you?” he asked. You hadn’t flinched, but your lack of effort in finding ways to touch him was a little discouraging.

“For a while you did. But it wasn’t just you. It was a really fucked up way of learning that your brother’s best friend, who’s really like a brother at this point, is a werewolf, and so is your lab partner, and that guy with a beard that sometimes shows up for reasons that aren’t obvious to you.” You rambled on a normal basis, but you rambled even more when you were nervous. “It was just a lot for a while. But no, you don’t scare me.”

“Were you just waiting for me to make the first move, then?”

You averted your gaze, laughing nervously. “I don’t really… I mean, maybe. Yeah, I guess so.”

“You just tried to say like three things at once and all of them are confusing to me. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to hang out with me like this.”

“I’ve just never really hung out with anyone in any capacity other than the literal sense of just hanging out. So when you look at me and make the world’s most intense eye contact, it freaks me out because it seems like something else should follow. And I’ve never done that before. So, it’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just that I… feel like I’m going to embarrass myself. So I avoid it because it’s easier than having this conversation.”

“Wow,” Isaac said, surprised by your honesty, and how quickly you spoke. “Well, I’m not trying to have sex with you. So don’t be nervous about that. Just because I look at you doesn’t mean that’s the immediate next step. I’ve never done that, either, so—”

You got to your feet, the embarrassment of the moment overwhelming. Being on your bed with him was unbearable.

“No. No. Um,” you stopped, taking a deep breath. “I didn’t think because you flashed your hot werewolf eyes at me that you wanted to rip my clothes off and have sex with me. I was talking about something way tamer. You know, like the time you do ten steps before sex.”

Isaac sat up, moving to the edge of your bed. “That’s fine. If it makes you feel any better I’ve never kissed anyone because I really wanted to.”

“Was… traumatic for you?” you asked, trying to be sensitive despite the burning in your cheeks.

“What? No. Not like that. I meant that it was all for show,” he assured you.

You sighed, relieved. “Oh, okay. Good. I thought this was moving in a much more depressing direction. Something even more depressing than me being sixteen and never having kissed a boy.”

He got up, towering over you in your tiny room filled with your childhood memories and very specific interests.

“You’re working yourself up. I can hear your heart racing,” he said.

“You can hear that?” you asked, panicked. Your heart raced a lot because of a lot of things he did. Sometimes even stupid things that were embarrassing for anyone to know that you found hot.

“Yeah. Werewolf stuff. It’s cute, though.”

Isaac took this rare moment—one where you were rendered speechless—to kiss you. He moved his hands to your face, and leaned down to kiss you. It wasn’t until that moment that you realized just how much taller he was than you. When you kissed him back, initially a little unsure of yourself, your instincts made you move onto your tiptoes. Just as you felt as though you were really getting into it, he stopped.

“Pulling away to see a frown isn’t the most encouraging thing,” he said, smiling.

“Well, I didn’t really want you to stop. Couldn’t you hear that while eavesdropping on my heartbeat?”

He laughed. “I don’t do it on purpose. I can’t help it. It’s just… sort of there.”

“Alright. Well, why don’t you eavesdrop while you kiss me?”

When he kissed you again, you expected it. What you didn’t expect was for him to move his hands to your waist, then go lower until he was able to pick you up. Being level with him was very different, and once you got over the initial shock of being picked up, you kissed him even harder. Everything you ever read about now made sense. It did feel electric, and you didn’t want it to end.

Isaac waited a short period of time before he put you down on the bed, moving so that he was on top of you. Instinctively, you parted your legs, making room for him to be even closer to you. You found that you liked the weight of him against you, and he liked that feeling, too.

His hand caressed your leg until he moved back to your waist. It made you think that you should touch him, too. Before your mind could explore all options and choose the best one, his lips began to shift. The unfamiliar sensation of someone kissing your neck was definitely something you liked. Your heart skipped a beat, and a pang of warmth spread through your body. You moaned, surprising yourself. His grip on your waist tightened, and it made you move your hand to his hair.

Your fingers grasped at his short curls when the kisses turned into something more dangerous. There was a chance, as he sucked gently at the soft skin of your neck, that he could leave marks. But neither of you were thinking like that.

The only thing that stopped him was something completely unintentional on your part. You were so lost in the moment that you—or, more accurately, your body—wanted more. You shifted your hips, grinding yourself against him. Then you stiffened, and he pulled away so he could look at you.

“I want to die right now,” you blurted out. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“But you want that?” he asked, searching your eyes. You had no choice but to look at him, and you could tell that he wanted you. That was a confidence boost that you didn’t even know you needed. All you could do was nod.

He went back to kissing you, grabbing your hips and repositioning you so you were pressed against him perfectly. The way you gasped made him kiss you even harder. He moaned, too, and the feeling of him moaning while kissing you was exhilarating. You were doing that to him?

Any over-analyzing was impossible when he moved his hips, his large bulge pressing against your core. The sensation was not unfamiliar to you, but it was unfamiliar to have someone else doing it for you. The sighs that escaped your lips only made him continue, and his grasp on your thigh tightened every time it was a moan instead.

Your arm wrapped around his neck, and it only made his muscles more evident. Just as you felt lightheaded—the friction he’d created built up a tension that made every part of you feel heavy and extremely needy—he stopped.

“I just need a second,” he said, embarrassed. He was a werewolf but it somewhat didn’t help his stamina in this case.

You were a virgin, but you were not clueless. “Just keep going. I don’t care.”

Isaac knew that continuing would mean there was a chance he’d have to figure things out for you after, but it was too tempting to worry about that. When it seemed like he was going to kiss you, he bowed his head, burying his face in your neck. Not to kiss you there, but to stifle his groans.

It was undeniably hot, even if it was less than a minute before he came, still moving against you as it happened. Male orgasms weren’t something you’d ever seen or completely understood, but you liked it. You moved your fingers through his hair, unsure if it was what he wanted, but hoping it was. You liked the way he moved so desperately, sporadic as he came down from his high.

He lifted his head, his face flushed. It made you smile, and he mirrored your expression.

“I’m not going to be the guy that asks you if you came,” he said. “Sorry, I—”

“Don’t apologize for doing the thing you do when you… do this.”

This time, it was you that kissed him. You had no intention of judging him, especially not when what he was apologizing for turned you on even more. He grabbed your waist again, and moved so that you were on top of him. The idea of it was more intimidating than how it felt. It wasn’t clear if it was what he thought you were going to do when he switched positions, but he didn’t protest when you moved onto his leg. In fact, he sat up, leaning against your wall. You liked it better that way, and you didn’t know if he guessed or if he’d sensed it.

Kissing him was enough to pick up where you left off, but when he moved his hand into your hair, and gently gathered some in his hand, that was enough to earn another moan. The movement of your hips on his leg ensured that it wasn’t the last. He almost couldn’t believe it was happening when just one week ago he was banned from speaking to you. He still was, but you were breaking that rule together. And you were doing a lot more than breaking it.

You only stopped kissing him when you were close to finishing, unable to focus on anything other than maintaining the rhythm that was getting you there. You closed your eyes, tightening your hold on him. Your chest pressed against his, and he couldn’t ignore that feeling that did to him. His hands guided your hips, wanting to grab you, yet knowing you didn’t need the help. Him touching you like this was enough, and your orgasm washed over you, lasting longer than you expected. It was intense; blurring your vision and leaving you breathless. It was only when it was over that you considered you might’ve been loud. Your thighs burned as you got off of him.

“Do you… do that a lot?” he asked, not thinking before he spoke. He had looked at you too long, too transfixed on how you looked when you were on top of him.

“What do you mean?” you asked, even though you were pretty sure that you knew. You didn’t want to tell him that you did, and he think you did it with other guys before him.

“You know…” he trailed off, fixing your hair. “You just seemed like you knew what you were doing. I liked it.”

“I’m a virgin. I don’t have a lineup of guys on speed dial,” you replied, making a joke feeling like the only way you could talk about it.

“I could be. I really like you, and I liked this.”

“I think you’re underestimating how often I do it.”

“I’m not that far away.”

You couldn't believe you were talking about this, but you felt comfortable enough with him to, and that meant something.

“Is that all you want? I just want to know before I overthink this. I overthink everything.”

“No. Unless that’s all you want.”

“We’re not even supposed to be talking. Scott said he’d rip your throat out if you even looked at me again.”

“Doesn’t that just make you want it even more? We’ll go on a secret date. I’ll figure something out. No one will know.”

You couldn't fight the smile that appeared at the idea of that.

“If we did this before our first date, then what are we doing after?”

“Hopefully something where I don’t cum in my underwear in the first few minutes.”

You laughed, then moved closer to him. “I liked it. Watching it happen, I mean. It helped me along, I guess you could say. I can’t wait for the real thing.”

He tensed momentarily, then said, “You have to. Someone’s in the driveway. I should go.”

Isaac kissed you one last time, then went out your window. It wasn’t how you thought your day was going to go, but it seemed like it would be hard to top.

#teen wolf #teen wolf request #isaac lahey #isaac lahey x reader #isaac lahey x you #isaac lahey teen wolf #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf smut #isaac lahey imagine #isaac lahey fanfiction #werewolf #werewolf x reader #werewolf x you #writing requests #request #requests are open #requests open #teen wolf fanfic

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overdressedcarp · 6 months ago

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Ratio's username struck me as familiar so I looked it up and turns out it's from a very raw passage of Blaise Pascal's posthumously published Pensées.

347: Man is but a reed, the most feeble thing in nature; but he is a thinking reed. The entire universe need not arm itself to crush him. A vapour, a drop of water suffices to kill him. But, if the universe were to crush him, man would still be more noble than that which killed him, because he knows that he dies and the advantage which the universe has over him; the universe knows nothing of this.

All our dignity consists, then, in thought. By it we must elevate ourselves, and not by space and time which we cannot fill. Let us endeavour, then, to think well; this is the principle of morality.

348: A thinking reed.—It is not from space that I must seek my dignity, but from the government of my thought. I shall have no more if I possess worlds. By space the universe encompasses and swallows me up like an atom; by thought I comprehend the world.

Basically: we are tiny and helpless in the face of a vast, uncaring universe, but our true strength comes through the fact that we can expand our minds to grasp truths beyond ourselves. Very metal, very Ratio.

But fun fact! Pensées is also the text that introduces the idea of Pascal's Wager, a theological thought experiment that serves as one of the first articulations of probability theory. Pascal argued that the existence of the divine should be assessed not solely on reason, but rather on pragmatism, because it is a wager of the finite versus the infinite, in which the human mind has no ability to properly assess the odds (a blind bet, if you will).

From excerpt 233:

Yes; but you must wager. It is not optional. You are embarked. Which will you choose then? [...] You have two things to lose, the true and the good; and two things to stake, your reason and your will, your knowledge and your happiness; and your nature has two things to shun, error and misery. Your reason is no more shocked in choosing one rather than the other, since you must of necessity choose. This is one point settled. But your happiness? Let us weigh the gain and the loss in wagering that God is. Let us estimate these two chances. If you gain, you gain all; if you lose, you lose nothing. [...] And thus, when one is forced to play, he must renounce reason to preserve his life, rather than risk it for infinite gain, as likely to happen as the loss of nothingness. [emphasis added]

Pensées (Project Gutenberg)

#dr ratio #aventurine #honkai star rail #meta #character analysis #hsr spoilers #honkai star rail spoilers #for the photography event

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woniedarlin · 1 year ago

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Love Beyond The Council: Yang Jungwon

pairing: stuco pres!Jungwon x quiet! reader

synopsis: Jungwon, a dedicated student council president whose attention is inexplicably drawn to you, despite your quiet demeanor. As he navigates the halls of the school, he finds himself captivated by your presence, unable to shake the feeling that there’s something special about you. Will Jungwon summon the courage to break the silence and initiate a conversation, or will his admiration remain unspoken? Follow Jungwon’s journey as he grapples with his feelings.

warnings: kissing, fighting, chaos, Jungwon likes physical affection

note: Hello again 💖 I did this just now at midnight. I suddenly had an urge to write. I'm very sorry if there were errors. Happy reading! 📖

Jungwon, the student council president, stood tall in the school hallways. With his hand inside his pocket, he meticulously looked at each passing student, his gaze unwavering and authoritative. Then, amidst the throng, his attention fixed on you. You are a year younger than him. Though you two weren’t that close, he was aware of you. Despite your quiet demeanor, your respectful nature towards him and your elegance and beauty, they had not gone unnoticed. Many students harbored crushes on you, and Jungwon understood why. They all recognized that you were truly one of a kind.

His stern expression softened ever so slightly. He nodded in acknowledgment, a hint of warmth in his usually stern gaze, recognizing the unique aura you brought to the school. Approaching you with measured steps, Jungwon's composed demeanor belied his inner admiration. As he drew closer, his sharp and focused eyes flickered with a subtle warmth.

"Hey," Jungwon said, his voice smooth and composed. He adjusted his uniform tie slightly, his fingers moving with practiced precision as he continued, maintaining a professional distance.

"Your academic excellence precedes you," he remarked matter-of-factly, a hint of reverence in his tone.

Surprised by his approach and compliment, you responded, “Oh, thank you, Jungwon,” with a soft smile, feeling a warmth spread through you at his unexpected praise.

A small, barely perceptible smile tugged at the corner of Jungwon's lips at your reply. "It's the truth," he responded, his voice carrying a note of conviction. His gaze softened, a rare show of warmth.

"You maintain a balance of both academics and grace. Your dedication is admirable," he continued, his tone measured and respectful. He paused, his gaze meeting yours for a moment, before he spoke again, his voice a bit softer. ‘’You set a good example for your peers. Keep up the great work. It's evident that you're making a positive impact on others," Jungwon finished, his words carrying a weight of sincere appreciation. While he maintained his professional facade and the air of authority expected of him, his genuine praise shone through, a glimpse of his true feelings.

“You can be the next student council president after me. You have the potential,” Jungwon suggested, his tone both encouraging and confident.

Caught off guard by his confidence in you, you lightly shook your head and replied, “I don’t think I fit the standards of a student council president.” Despite your words, there was a hint of doubt in your voice, as if you were questioning your own judgment in the face of his unwavering belief in you.

"Nonsense." Jungwon’s firm but gentle tone was filled with conviction. His eyes locked on yours, leaving no room for doubt. He shook his head slightly, his expression serious yet nurturing.

"You underestimate your own potential. Your qualities as a young woman are beyond admirable. Your humility, intelligence, and grace are just a few of the reasons I believe you could lead this school," he began, his sincerity resounding in every syllable.

“Thank you,” you said, still processing his unexpected confidence in you. Despite your initial doubts, his belief in your potential left you with a lingering warmth and a seed of possibility.

He nodded, his gaze softening as he observed your gracious acceptance of his compliment. "Don't thank me," he said quietly, his voice tinged with a hint of warmth. He adjusted his uniform, his eyes studying yours once more, before he continued. His next words carried a heavier meaning, each one carefully chosen. "Just keep being yourself. That's more than enough."

You didn’t know why, but you suddenly had the confidence in yourself to say something.

“I know we aren’t that close, but I hope we can be,” you said with a smile, fiddling with your hands nervously. Your words hung in the air, filled with hope and the promise of a new connection.

Jungwon's gaze met yours, his eyes softening. A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Distance is nothing more than a matter of time and effort," he noted with a hint of reassurance. "Perhaps we can bridge the gap between us. After all, the student council is open to all students, isn't it?” he added, the corner of his lips curling up into a small, genuine smile.

“Yeah,” you nodded, your smile growing a little wider as you met his gaze. You felt a sense of possibility and anticipation for the friendship that could blossom between you.

A comfortable silence settled between you, a moment of understanding and acceptance. The bustling sounds of the hallway seemed to fade into the background as you both stood there, an unspoken connection forming between you. After a moment, Jungwon spoke again, his voice carrying a mix of warmth and respect. "You're always welcome to attend our student council meetings. I'm sure everyone else would welcome your presence with open arms.”

“Sure. I look forward to attending your meetings,” you added softly, your smile reflecting both gratitude and the budding hope for a closer connection with him.

Another gentle nod from Jungwon, his eyes reflecting his sincerity. He took a deep breath, the sounds of the bustling hallway returning to fill the air. "If that's all, I should continue my inspection," he stated, a hint of warmth still evident in his expression. "There's no shortage of students who need a reminder about school rules," he added with a slight, wry smile, his eyes holding a sparkle of amusement.

You tilt your head slightly, and there is a hint of curiosity in your expression. “Am I in trouble? ”You ask, half-jokingly, though a flicker of uncertainty lingers in your eyes.

A hint of surprise flickered across Jungwon's eyes at your question, his brows furrowing ever so slightly, before a small chuckle escaped his lips. "Of course not," he answered softly, his tone holding a hint of reassurance. He shook his head gently.

"You have nothing to worry about. You've done nothing wrong. And even if you did," he continued, his voice low and sincere, "I assure you, dealing with such matters is a part of my duties. I can let it slide.” He whispered his last sentence and winked at you after.

“Really? ”You inquire, searching his expression for any indication of seriousness behind his words.

Jungwon nodded, his eyes softening at your disbelief. "Truly,” he replied, his voice carrying a note of certainty. “You've consistently adhered to the school's guidelines and shown great respect to your peers. I have no reason to suspect you of misconduct.” His eyes examined your face and continued, “Rest assured, you have nothing to fear or worry about in my eyes.”

"Thank you so much, Jungwon," you say, gratitude evident in your tone as you appreciate Jungwon's unexpected kindness and support.

Jungwon nodded again, a small smile gracing his lips at your gratitude. He took in your expression,

"There's no need to thank me. It's simply my duty." He let out a gentle sigh before continuing, his expression more relaxed than before. "Is there anything else you'd like to discuss or bring to my attention before we part ways?"

"Nope," you smile at him. "I don’t want to disturb you while you are doing your duties." With that, you offer him a respectful nod before stepping back, allowing him to attend to his responsibilities.

Jungwon returned your smile with a gentle look in his expression. "Until we meet again, have a pleasant day." He nodded in farewell, his eyes holding a hint of contentment and satisfaction as he watched you head on your way. As you walked away, you couldn't help but feel a sense of connection and understanding in the short exchange you'd shared with the student council president.

The next day, the hallways buzzed with commotion as two male students clashed in a heated fight, their shouts echoing off the walls. A crowd quickly formed around them, eager to witness the unfolding drama.

You stood at a distance, shock washing over your features as you took in the chaotic scene. Determined to intervene, you began to walk briskly towards the center of the commotion, your concern overriding your initial hesitation. Your steps quickened, driven by the urgent need to restore peace.

As the sound of a commotion filled the hallway, Jungwon's attention instantly snapped towards the source. He saw the gathering crowd and the unfolding fight. Without wasting a second, he began making his way towards the scene, his strides swift and purposeful. His eyes darted around, assessing the situation with a quick glance.

As Jungwon approached, he observed your determined stride, recognizing the concern etched on your face as you attempted to intercede in the escalating conflict. He knew he had to protect you, shielding you from the dangers of the fight unfolding before you.

Feeling Jungwon's firm grip on your waist, you're gently pulled away from the escalating confrontation, his touch both protective and reassuring. As his hand cups your cheek, his touch tender against your skin, you meet his gaze, finding solace in the depths of his eyes.

“I’ll handle it. Don’t worry,” he says softly, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. In that moment, surrounded by chaos yet enveloped in his protective embrace, you find a sense of safety and trust, knowing that Jungwon will do whatever it takes to keep you out of harm's way.

“But...” you begin, your concern evident in your voice, but Jungwon’s gaze holds yours firmly, his silent plea urging you not to intervene. His head shakes gently, a mix of concern and urgency reflecting in his expression.

“Please, let me handle it. I don’t want to see you get hurt. Stay back,” he implores, his words laced with a soft sigh. “Trust me.”

Swiftly, Jungwon stepped between you and the center of the commotion, creating a barrier between you and the fight. His voice cut through the chaos, authoritatively yet respectfully addressing those involved. "That's enough!" His words carried a tone of firmness and finality, commanding immediate attention. He glanced between the two students, his eyes conveying a stern warning. "Break it up. Now!" He commanded, his voice leaving no room for disobedience.

The students involved paused, their faces showing a mixture of fear and surprise at Jungwon's authoritative tone and presence. The commotion of the fight slowly died down, replaced by a tense silence. As Jungwon stood there, a powerful figure projecting authority and control, both students sheepishly backed off, their eyes lowering in a mix of guilt and sheepishness.

The crowd that had gathered slowly dispersed, their murmurs of excitement giving way to hushed whispers of admiration for the student council president's effective intervention.

“You two, go to detention now,” Jungwon commanded, his tone firm and unwavering as he addressed the brawling students. Turning his attention to the rest of the onlookers, he continued, “As for the others, you all are blocking the hallway. I don’t want to see this ever happen again.”

With the crowd dispersing and the tension diffused, Jungwon took a moment to compose himself, his demeanor shifting from authoritative to attentive. Discreetly, he drew in a deep breath, his shoulders easing as he turned to face you. His eyes, filled with a mixture of concern and relief, searched yours for any signs of distress.

“Are you okay? ”He inquired softly, his voice a gentle reassurance amidst the aftermath of the confrontation. His hand reached out, tenderly holding your waist as he checked for any bruises or injuries, his touch conveying a sense of protectiveness and care.

“Yeah,” your voice carrying a hint of relief as you reassure Jungwon of your well-being.

A relieved sigh escaped Jungwon's lips as he felt your response. He nodded, his expression softening.

"Thank goodness." He continued to gently hold onto your waist, his touch remaining firm but not forceful. His eyes searched your face, assessing if you were truly unhurt by the incident. "Please don't approach fights like that in the future." His voice held a note of concern and protection.

“I was worried,” you admit, your voice softening with vulnerability as you acknowledge the concern that had gripped you during the chaotic situation.

Jungwon nodded, his eyes meeting yours, understanding your concern. ‘’I understand that you were worried about the situation and wanted to help, but I can't allow something to happen to you. My duty is to ensure the safety and well-being of all students. I couldn't bear to see you get hurt."

“Thank you for stopping me,” you express, your gratitude sincere.

A gentle smile tugged at the corners of Jungwon's lips as he heard your gratitude. He nodded slightly, his gaze holding yours for a moment before he spoke. "It was my duty as student council president to restore order and protect the students." He squeezed your waist softly. "But it was also a personal desire to keep you safe.”

“Really? ”You tilt your head slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing your features as you process Jungwon’s actions and his genuine concern for your well-being.

Jungwon nodded again, an earnest expression in his eyes. "Truly,” he assured you. “You may see it as just a part of my job as the student council president, but there's also a personal drive within me to protect someone I care for.” A hint of warmth crept into his voice as he looked at you, his gaze holding a mix of adoration and sincerity. His touch on your waist remained gentle but firm, a silent reassurance and a promise to protect you from harm.

"Please trust in my ability to handle situations like these. Your safety is important to me." He let out a soft sigh, his expression softening ever so slightly. "I hope you can accept my actions as an expression of care and concern, and not just my role as student council president."

“I am,” you confirm with a smile, touched by Jungwon’s care and thoughtfulness.

A small smile of contentment tugged at the corners of Jungwon's lips as he heard your response. He nodded once more, a soft sigh escaping him. The warmth in his eyes reflected his genuine appreciation for your understanding. "Thank you. Thank you for trusting me and understanding my intentions." He gently squeezed your waist once more before reluctantly letting go, though the protective and caring nature remained evident in his gaze. “Well, I should head to detention to give a little talk to those two.”

‘’Alright,” you respond, a sense of calm settling over you.

Jungwon nodded, his gaze flickering over yours one last time before he reluctantly let go of your waist. “Be careful, okay? ”He held your gaze for a moment, his eyes filled with a mix of concern and affection, before turning around to head to the detention room.

As the months passed, Jungwon and you found themselves spending more and more time together after school. You two continued to explore various hangout spots, from intimate cafes to bustling malls and arcades. With each encounter, their bond deepened, the connection growing stronger with each shared laugh, story told, and experience.

Jungwon always made sure to prioritize your safety and care. His protective nature was a constant presence, guiding their interactions like a comforting security blanket. Whether it was holding your hand to guide you through a crowded street or offering a sincere word of encouragement during a tough day,.

As you walked through the school early in the morning, you couldn't help but notice the peaceful atmosphere that filled the hallways. The school felt tranquil, with only a few students present.

Jungwon, as dedicated as ever, was already present at the school. As student council president, he often arrived early to get a head start on his duties. The sound of papers shuffling and the scratching of a pen against paper filled the air as he diligently prepared for the day ahead.

Feeling a sense of contentment, you continued to walk through the empty hallways, your steps echoing softly against the walls. As you passed by a classroom, you noticed the door slightly open. Glancing inside, you saw a glimpse of Jungwon engrossed in his work. He seemed deeply focused on his task, his eyes scanning the sheets of paper in front of him with intense concentration.

He glanced up from his paperwork and noticed your approach. A small, warm smile immediately lit up his face. He set his pen down, giving his full attention to you as you entered. "Good morning, pretty," he greeted, his voice filled with a gentle warmth and contentment. "You're here early."

“I am. I knew you’d be early, and I want to see you as much as possible,” you admit with a shy smile, the sincerity of your words evident in your gaze as you meet his eyes.

A sparkle of both surprise and joy filled Jungwon's eyes at your words. "Is that so?" he replied, his voice tinged with a hint of warmth and contentment. He gestured for you to come closer and sit down next to him. "I'm glad you decided to come earlier. I admit, it means a lot to have your presence, even if it's just to keep me company while I work."

You settled into the seat next to him, a sense of comfort washing over you in his presence. “You seem really busy. I hope I didn’t disturb you,” you remarked, a hint of concern in your voice as you considered the possibility of interrupting his work.

Jungwon smiled softly, his eyes meeting yours. "Not at all, pretty. Your presence is always a pleasant interruption. In fact, I was just about to take a quick break after this." He leaned back in his chair, the tension in his shoulders easing a bit as he relaxed. “So, what brought you here this early? ”

“Like I said, I want to see you as much as possible,” you reaffirm with a soft smile.

Jungwon let out a small chuckle, charmed by your honesty and straightforwardness. "Well, I must say, your straightforwardness is both refreshing and endearing," he replied, a warm smile playing on his lips and his dimples showing. He leaned in slightly, his gaze fixated on you. “It’s nice to know that you enjoy my company so much that you’d sacrifice your sleep just to spend more time with me.”

“Well, you sacrifice yours too, so I must say that it’s admirable. I hope you will get enough rest after,” you said, acknowledging Jungwon’s dedication to his responsibilities while expressing concern for his well-being.

Jungwon nodded, his expression turning a bit more serious. “You’re right. It’s important to prioritize rest too. But sometimes, you have to put in extra effort to achieve something, right? In this case, that 'something’ is finishing these tasks.” Turning his attention back to his paperwork, he began organizing the papers on his desk. “Anyways, I’ll try not to work too hard. Don’t hesitate to let me know if you feel bored, okay? ”

‘’Okay.’’ You nodded reassuringly. Jungwon continued his work, his pen moving swiftly across the paper as he filled out forms and took notes. From time to time, he would glance up from his work, casting a glance your way, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. The atmosphere remained comfortable and peaceful, with only the sound of pens on paper and the occasional rustle of papers filling the room.

After what felt like an hour or two, Jungwon finally finished his paperwork. "Phew!" he let out a long, exhausted breath, stretching his arms up and arching his back. The sound of his joints popping echoed softly in the room as he let out a small groan. He glanced over to you and the clock. "It looks like it's nearing the first period already."

“Yeah, well, I should go to my classroom,” you said, acknowledging the passage of time and the need to attend your classes.

A hint of reluctance flickered across Jungwon's features, but he nodded in understanding. "Alright, I understand. You need to get to class. I should probably make some last checks around the school before the first period." He stood up from his chair and offered a warm smile. "I'll see you later. Have a productive day, pretty girl."

"You too," you replied with a soft smile, offering a wave of goodbye as you turned to leave, feeling a sense of gratitude for the brief but meaningful interaction with Jungwon.

Jungwon nodded, his eyes holding a hint of warmth as he watched you leave. As you left the room, he couldn't help but feel a small sense of emptiness, wishing to spend more time with you. However, he pushed aside the feeling, knowing he had his duties as the student council president to attend to.

As you headed to your classroom, the thought of seeing each other again later filled you with a sense of anticipation and contentment.

As classes ended, students began exiting their respective classrooms, the hallway filling with the sound of excited chatter and bustling footsteps. Jungwon, who was still on student council duties, stood near the entrance of the hallway, talking with a few other council members. He glanced up as you exited your class, his eyes lighting up the moment he laid eyes on you.

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he excused himself from the conversation and made his way over to you. When he arrived in front of you, he greeted you with a soft yet warm smile. “Hey, how were your classes? ”He asked, his voice holding a note of genuine curiosity. “I hope they weren't too stressful.”

‘’It was alright. It’s manageable. What about you? ”You asked, engaging Jungwon in conversation.

He chuckled softly, with a hint of playfulness in his tone. "Manageable, you say? Well, I'll be honest with you, my workloads can be quite overwhelming, especially during exam periods. Balancing student council duties and classes is no easy feat." He let out a small sigh, his expression turning serious for a moment before brightening again ‘’But you know what they say, no pain, no gain."

“Exactly, but still. I hope you get enough rest,” you said, expressing concern for Jungwon’s well-being as you reached out to gently hold his hand.

He laughed softly, a sense of comradery existing between the two of you. He motioned his head to the hallway. "Now that classes are done, why don't we take a break?’’ He gestured down the hallway. “There's a vending machine not too far from here. How about we get some drinks and chat?”

"Sure. Let’s go?" you asked, ready to accompany Jungwon.

A small smile tugged at his lips as he heard your response, a sense of contentment filling him ‘’Perfect. Let’s go then.” Both individuals’s hands were still held together. He began walking down the hallway, the sound of his footsteps echoing softly against the walls. The chatter of the students around them filled the air, adding a lively atmosphere to the moment. “You know, you have a way of making my day brighter,” he admitted, a hint of sincerity in his smile.

“Really? I don’t do much,” you replied modestly, though a flicker of warmth touched your eyes at his words, grateful for the connection you shared with Jungwon.

Jungwon chuckled softly at your modest reply, a warm glint in his eyes. "Well, you might not think you’re doing much, but your presence alone makes my day all the better. Believe me, just having you here and having these conversations means a lot to me."

With a gentle smile, he gestured towards the vending machine. “So, what drink would you like to get? My treat.”

‘’Orange juice, please, thank you,” you said, your smile polite.

Jungwon nodded in response, a small smile playing on his lips. "Orange juice it is." They approached the vending machine, which was filled with various drink options. Jungwon punched in the code for orange juice, and a moment later, the familiar sound of a bottle clunking against the dispenser could be heard. "There you go, pretty," he said, offering the drink to you. "Your orange juice."

He smiled, watching as you took the drink from him, appreciating the small gesture. He then approached the vending machine himself, punching in the code for bottled water, which was dispensed a moment later. He turned back to you, the bottle in hand. He gestured towards the door that led to the school garden. "Let's head over to the garden. It's a nice place to chat. Plus, it's quieter there." With a smile, he headed towards the door, waiting for you to follow him.

You nodded and followed him. As you stepped through the door leading to the garden, a wave of tranquility washed over you. The scent of blooming flowers and the rustle of leaves filled the air, creating an atmosphere of calmness and serenity.

Jungwon led the way, finding a spot under a tree where they could sit comfortably. He gestured for you to take a seat on the grass beside him. He sat down, leaning back against the tree trunk, the setting sun casting golden hues of light over them.

He popped open the cap of his bottled water and took a sip, the cool liquid refreshing him after a busy day. He turned to look at you, content in his eyes. "I always find solace in this garden. After a long day of classes and council duties, it's nice to take a moment for ourselves. Don't you think?"

‘’It is. The garden is very beautiful. The gardening club did absolutely wonderful,” you agreed, admiring the lush greenery and vibrant blooms that surrounded you.

Jungwon nodded in agreement, a hint of admiration in his eyes as he glanced around the garden. ''They had truly outdone themselves. Seeing all the work they put in to create such a serene atmosphere... I hope they can maintain it for many years to come.” He took another sip of his water, his gaze returning to you. “Ah! I almost forgot.” He reached into his bag and took out a small snack bar. “I had an extra one. Would you like it? ”

‘’Yes, please,” you responded politely, accepting his offer.

Jungwon handed over the snack bar with a small, almost shy smile on his face. "Here you go. Enjoy."

He leaned back against the tree, watching you with contentment. A comfortable silence settled between them, the only sound being the occasional rustle of the leaves and the gentle hum of nature. "I must admit, I’ve enjoyed spending time with you even more than usual. There's something about being here in the garden with you that makes the moment feel... special.”

‘’Every moment with you is special. I cherish every single thing,” you replied sincerely, your heart swelling with affection for Jungwon and the bond you shared. In this tranquil setting, surrounded by the beauty of nature, your connection felt even more profound and meaningful.

Jungwon’s smile grew warmer as he heard your words. A sense of contentment washing over him.

“You're making me blush,” he replied playfully, laughing at your words. "But you know what? I agree. Even the simplest times spent with you feel extraordinary." He reached out, gently taking your hand in his, their fingers intertwining.

He gently caressed your hand with his thumb, a small smile playing on his lips. He looked up at you, his eyes filled with a mix of adoration and contentment. “Being here with you, enjoying nature, and simply being ourselves—it's moments like these that I cherish the most. I hope we can create many more unforgettable memories together."

‘’I hope so too,” you replied, your voice soft yet filled with conviction. In that moment, surrounded by the tranquility of the garden and the warmth of Jungwon’s touch, you felt a sense of certainty that the bond between you would only grow stronger with time, creating countless cherished memories along the way.

He smiled, his eyes filled with warmth and contentment. The serenity of the moment, the beauty of the garden, and the presence of you beside him made it all the more special. "You know, every time I spend time with you, I feel blessed. I hope you know how much you mean to me. You make my life happier and more fulfilling." He lifted your hand up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your hand, his eyes never leaving yours.

‘’I feel the same way. I’m very happy when I’m with you,” you replied softly, your heart swelling with love and gratitude for Jungwon and the happiness he brought into your life.

Jungwon's heart fluttered in his chest as he heard your words. To hear that your feelings mirrored his own brought contentment and joy he couldn’t fully express in words. As the sun began to set, casting a warm, golden glow over the garden, he smiled, squeezing your hand gently. "I promise to cherish these moments and to continue finding joy in each other. Life is short, and I want to spend every moment of it by your side."

As you looked at him, your heart warmed with love and gratitude for the man beside you. His words touched you deeply, reaffirming the bond you shared and the commitment you both had to nurturing your relationship.

As Jungwon's eyes sparkled with contentment, he found himself captivated by the radiant beauty of your features, illuminated by the setting sun's last rays. Drawn to you by an irresistible pull, he leaned in slowly, his heart fluttering with anticipation. Closing the distance between you, he pressed his lips against yours in a tender kiss, the world around them seeming to fade away in the embrace of the moment. With each gentle caress of his lips against yours, a surge of warmth and affection enveloped him, his heart overflowing with love for you.

Deepening the kiss, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer as if to convey the depth of his feelings through the embrace. His fingers gently tangled in your hair, the touch filled with tenderness and devotion as he savored the precious moment shared between you. In that timeless embrace, surrounded by the beauty of the garden and the warmth of your love, Jungwon knew that he had found his home in your arms.

Jungwon reluctantly pulled back, his breathing slightly uneven as he looked at you with a mixture of contentment and discontentment. He brushed a strand of hair away from your face; his touch was gentle and affectionate. "Being with you... feels so right," he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity. He gently rested his forehead against yours, letting the moment wash over them.

‘’It really does,” you replied softly, your heart swelling with love and gratitude.

Jungwon smiled, his fingers gently tracing your jaw before cupping your cheek in his palm. He gently closed his eyes, savoring the moment and the feeling of closeness between them. “You truly make me the happiest I’ve ever been. I never want this feeling to end,” he softly whispered, his other hand gently intertwining with yours.

“Be mine, pretty? ”

‘’I already am,’’ you replied without hesitation, your voice filled with love and certainty. In that moment, surrounded by the beauty of the garden and the warmth of Jungwon’s embrace, you knew that your hearts were forever entwined, bound together by an unbreakable bond of love and devotion.

His heart skipped a beat, and a bright, warm smile spread across his face. “Really? You have no idea how happy you’ve made me just by saying that. Knowing that you’re mine... it’s truly a blessing.” He reached out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “But just between you and me, can I share a secret? ”

‘’Yeah,” you replied, curious to hear what Jungwon had to share with you.

A small blush crept across his cheeks as he leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I've had a thing for you for a while now. Ever since I first saw you, I just knew that you were someone special. And as I got to know you better, that feeling only grew stronger." His thumb gently brushed over your hand as he continued speaking. “I was worried that you didn’t feel the same way, but now that I know you do, it’s a dream come true.”

‘’Oh? I thought I made myself clear that I like you too,” you replied with a playful smile, teasing him gently. The warmth in your eyes mirrored the affection in your heart as you shared this intimate moment with Jungwon.

Jungwon laughed softly, his eyes shining with a mixture of relief and happiness. “Perhaps I was just too nervous to admit my own feelings. But now, with our feelings out in the open, I feel like I’m on top of the world.” He pulled you closer, gently wrapping his arms around you in a warm embrace, their bodies pressed together. “I can't wait to spend more time with you, to create memories, and to grow even closer. ”

He chuckled softly as he examined your face. “I might as well marry you when the time is right to make sure that we’ll have countless memories.”

You blushed slightly at his words, a tint of pink evident on your cheeks. “Stop joking around,” you teased, though a hint of fondness shone in your eyes as you playfully chided him.

He smiled, leaning in to softly kiss your blushing cheek. “Who said I was joking? ”He teased, his tone filled with sincerity. “Why would I joke about something as serious as that? ”He gently took your hand in his, his eyes meeting yours with a look of genuine affection. “When I look at you, I see my future. So why not plan out the best possible future together? ”

You couldn’t help but feel a flutter of excitement at his words, though a hint of uncertainty lingered in your mind. “Isn’t it too early? ”You questioned softly, your eyes searching for reassurance.

He chuckled softly, his smile warm and genuine. “Of course it's too early. But it's never too early to dream, is it? ’’

He gently took your hand in his, bringing it to his lips and kissing your knuckles gently. “I know it's not practical, but just the thought of us sharing a future brings me happiness and hope. Even if it is just a dream, it's a beautiful one to have. ”

‘’It is indeed,” you agreed, a smile tugging at your lips as you leaned in to peck his lips tenderly.

He smiled against your lips, the brief contact sending a surge of warmth through him. When he pulled back, his eyes were filled with contentment. "You have no idea how much I love you," he whispered, his voice tinged with a hint of amazement. "Your presence in my life has been nothing short of magical, and I can't imagine spending my days with anyone else. I will always strive to make you happy and to be the best version of myself for you.“

‘’I love you,” you whispered softly, your heart overflowing with love and warmth for Jungwon. In that moment, surrounded by the beauty of the garden and the embrace of his arms, you felt an overwhelming sense of peace and contentment, knowing that you were loved and cherished by the person who meant the world to you.

His heart skipped a beat as he heard those three simple yet powerful words, and he felt a rush of emotion wash over him. Wrapping his arms around you, he pulled you closer, holding you tightly as if never wanting to let go. “I love you more,” he whispered against your hair, his voice filled with sincerity and affection.

Years later…

It has been years since the confession in the garden, and the two of you are now happily settled into life and still madly in love. Jungwon, the steadfast and dedicated president, and you, the beauty who had captured his heart, had built a life together, filled with joy, love, and countless shared memories. Graduated from high school and then years later from college, now in their mid-twenties, Jungwon and you were still going strong, but now as a married couple. You two had faced countless challenges and obstacles together, supporting and motivating each other through thick and thin.

In the middle of the night, the couple lay together in bed, wrapped in each other’s arms, engaged in their late-night conversations. They were nestled closely, finding warmth and comfort in the intimacy of their shared moments.

He was comfortably curled up in your embrace, your head resting on his chest. His fingers gently played with your hair; the repetitive gesture was soothing and relaxing. The room was filled with a warm, tranquil atmosphere, with the only sound being our voices and the soft rustling of the sheets.

“I still can’t believe how lucky I am to have you in my life,” he whispered, his hand gently tracing patterns on your skin.

‘’Me too, bub,” you replied, your own voice soft and affectionate.

He smiled, relishing the warmth and contentment he felt in your arms. His fingers gently brushed over your shoulder, a tender gesture filled with affection. “You know, it’s moments like these that make me realize just how far we’ve come. From the confessions in the garden to this, holding each other and basking in our love. It’s a dream come true.”

“You were so serious about marrying me. Look at us now, years later,” you remarked, a hint of amusement in your voice as you reflected on the journey of your relationship.

He couldn’t help but chuckle softly at your words, bringing his hand up to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face. “You had doubts? ”His voice was lighthearted and teasing. “I was always serious about you. From the moment I laid eyes on you in that hallway, I knew you were the one. But who would’ve thought that our confession would lead to this life? Waking up beside you and falling asleep in each other’s arms. It’s everything I could have wished for and more. “He then placed soft kisses on your jawline and cheek.

‘’I am married to the student council president,” you said, emphasizing the “the” with a playful glint in your eyes.

He chuckled, his breath warm against your skin, as he continued peppering your face with gentle kisses.

“Yes, you are,” he agreed, a hint of amusement in his voice. “You snagged the most handsome, charming, and hardworking student council president in the whole school. And now he's yours forever." He placed a deep kiss on your lips.

“But I was also able to snag the prettiest, most elegant, and most intelligent student in the whole school. Now, she is mine forever.”

‘’Exactly, bub. I am yours forever,” you affirmed, your voice filled with love and devotion as you reaffirmed your commitment to Jungwon.

He smiled at you, gently tugging your body closer to his and wrapping his arms around your waist. He leaned in to press a soft peck on your lips. "Now, why are we still talking so much? Let's enjoy this moment and each other's presence, shall we?" He whispered before pulling you even closer. His hands caressed your back, gently trailing over the curves and contours, while his lips sought out yours once again.

The tender moment between you and Jungwon was interrupted by the sudden cry of a baby from inside the room.

His eyes widened in surprise when he heard the loud cry from the baby; the sound effectively pulled them back to reality. He pulled away from the kiss, his breath slightly ragged and his eyes still filled with affection. "Seems like someone's woken up," he said with a soft chuckle, running a hand through his hair. "I'll go check on him." He reluctantly untangled himself from your embrace and got up out of bed, softly padding over to the crib that held their precious child.

He softly picked up their baby, cradling the small bundle in his arms and gently caressing their backs to comfort them. "Shh, it's okay. Daddy's here," he whispered soothingly. He continued to soothe their child, gently rocking him back and forth while trying to calm him down. "It's alright, I've got you now. You're safe with me."

After a few minutes of tender care and soothing, the cries of the baby gradually subsided, replaced by the gentle sound of peaceful slumber.

After the baby had finally calmed down and fell back to sleep, he placed them back in their crib and let out a deep sigh, a smile tugging at his lips. He quietly made his way back to the bed, climbing in next to you once more. "It's never a dull moment with them, is it?" He whispered with a chuckle, his voice filled with a mix of exhaustion and love.

‘’Never, my love,” you whispered softly.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest. He let out a contented sigh, his body relaxing against yours. "But they definitely make life more interesting," he said, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. He gently pressed a kiss on your forehead, his fingers gently combing through your hair. "And I wouldn't want it any other way. As long as I have you and our child, I have everything I need."

‘’Well, it’s 2 in the morning. We have to go to sleep, bub,” you said, gently reminding Jungwon of the late hour. As much as you both enjoyed these late-night moments together, you knew the importance of getting rest, especially with a little one to care for.

He nodded in agreement, his eyelids growing heavy with fatigue. "You're right, my love. We should get some sleep," he whispered, a yawn escaping him as he cuddled you closer.

"I don't think I'll be able to sleep without you in my arms anyway." He smiled softly. He tightened his embrace, holding you close as he finally let his exhaustion take over and drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

As the night embraced them, they sank into a profound slumber, cocooned in each other’s warmth. Continuing their story as lovers and parents..

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