#by the end of this I should finally be able to remember how to spell camalot

[sourtomatola]

A jester, not being used to holding back, says something he meant to keep to himself

First Prev | Next Masterpost

[sluttycelestialgoddess]

If you give Sylus a Hunter...

Synopsis. Sylus has a lot of fun making you beg.

Pairings. Sylus x reader(MC)

Content. MDNI. edging, fem reader, praise, crying, mentions use of evol, pet names (kitten, sweetie, good girl, etc), AFTERCARE.

Word Count. 2.2k (damn... pretty good for my first story)

Author's Note. Thanks for reading my first story! Let me know what you think, and feel free to leave me requests! I wrote this while listening to 'Be Quiet and Drive' by Deftones. (also, did you like the title... I thought of 'when you give a mouse a cookie' and giggled to myself) xo, Z/Chaos

MDNI BEYOND THIS POINT.

Sylus had you right where he wanted you. His bed. Again. He looked down at you with his usual arrogant smirk as you whimpered and squirmed. His crimson eyes seemed to be lit with that internal glow they had sometimes when he was excited or wanted something. “Now, now, kitten. Spread those pretty thighs for me. You don’t want me to use my evol again, do you?” he purred sardonically, his left eye beginning to actually glow.

You were almost at your wits end. It had been an hour since he grabbed you out of the hallway of his hilariously (or should you say outrageously?) huge home you were attempting to get to know your way around and all but threw you onto his bed, using his evol to hold your hands above your head as he stripped you bare. He was insatiable. You’d been staying with him for four days at this point and already you’ve had more sex than you had in the last 2 years combined. Which, in the grand scheme of things, you guessed wasn’t much considering you dedicated all your time to becoming a Hunter for Linkon City after the rise of wanderer attacks, resulting in a gnarly dry spell… but his hunger for you was bordering on absurd. Even so, you had to ask yourself… Does he ever get tired?

In this hour that he’d had you at his mercy, he’d managed to edge you to the pinnacle of ecstasy no less than five times, never letting you reach that sweet release. You were a shaking, sobbing, whimpering mess, and he loved it. You were half in the mind to use one of the safe words he declared you use on the first night if you ever found yourself not being able to handle something. But your pride was like a gag, not letting your tongue form the word. “Feather”. How fitting, the smug bastard. 

“‘Feather’ will be to stop. You say that and everything stops. We do not continue. There will be no “break and then get back to it”. Saying that means you’re done for the night. So just be sure that’s the one you want to use,” he had told you. At the time you had giggled, thinking it was endearing, thinking back on it now, you wanted to kick him in the face. No way in hell were you uttering the word “feather” while a trembling, whimpering mess. If only you could actually move your legs to kick him, but nope. Useless appendages. 

You realized Sylus was still waiting for you to comply with his request. Finally having an ounce of control over your legs after they had become jelly sometime in the last 20 minutes, you shakily opened your legs to him, a whimper leaving your lips as the cool air in the room met your soaked lips. I could kick him now… but then he’d keep me like this all night. Fucker.

“Good girl. You’re doing so well,” he praised, not seeing your thoughts, steadily growing fond of the idea of smashing your foot to his face. You internally smiled at your mental picture, but really you were enjoying yourself all things considered. He leaned over to rub soothing circles over your thigh before running a long finger through your sensitive folds. “You remember your safe words, correct?” he asked with a grin and you nodded, glaring daggers. He chuckled and hummed at how wet you’d gotten, and he hadn’t even put his mouth on you. Looking up to watch your reaction, he slipped his finger in, curling slightly to caress over the spot that always made you gasp. You did, and he smiled at the pretty sound, feeling pride at how well he knew your body. However, he was beginning to think he was being just a tad cruel as he watched your eyebrows knit together and the pitiful whimpers run into each other as they exited your lush lips. 

“Oh baby, I know, I know… I’ll let you come soon. Such a good girl… you look fucking delicious right now,” he cooed as he eased a second finger inside you and coated his thumb in your wetness before rubbing circles over your throbbing clit. Goosebumps covered your skin and you whined, your hips bucking up of their own accord. “Mmm, such a needy kitten. Sweetie, I think you could take a couple more, hm?”

You whimpered out unintelligible curses at the remark and he chuckled. “Sylus… I really don’t know if I can,” you say, finally having found your voice in the string of muttered curses and whines. You clenched your eyes closed as he pressed harder on your clit and curled his fingers deeper. That blossoming warmth entered your tummy again. You fluttered around him and he groaned, wanting so badly to see you come apart, but needing it to be while he was inside you so you could milk him for everything he had. 

“Relax, you can handle it,” he chided with a tsk. “I’ve seen you take more than this, sweet girl. You’re stronger than you think. Tell me how badly you want to cum,” he groaned as you clenched harder around him. You were half scared he would pull back and deny you once again, but also half scared he wouldn’t and it would be over. He rubbed at your thighs, admiring how mouthwatering they were coated in your arousal. “Beg for it. Beg for me to let you cum.”

You felt the tears begin to sting the back of your eyes and you steeled yourself long enough to whisper through your moans, “Please, Sylus. Please let me cum, baby. I’ll do anything, just please…”

“Anything, hm?” he questioned, obvious interest in his tone as he leaned down and sucked lightly on your clit, replacing his thumb. You gasped as he rolled his tongue over the sensitive nub. Your legs shook fiercely and you cried out. Pulling back, fingers and all, he stood over you. The damn tease… His eyes never left yours as he deftly undid the buttons on his shirt, then his pants, rolling them both off and letting them pile on the floor. He leaned down and extended himself over you until your lips met in a passionate kiss. “If you’ll do anything, how about you stay true to your word by cumming around my cock?” he teased as he grabbed it and rubbed it through your slickness. 

“Yes, please,” you sighed against his lips, seeing this as him conceding as long as you came wrapped around him. His lips curved into a dangerous grin at your response, pushing inside with agonizing slowness. He groaned.

“Fuck, you’re so tight and wet, I don’t even need to work it in,” he moaned appreciatively as he drove into you with one powerful thrust, no longer able to torture you with slow pumps. Once he was fully seated, he kissed you tenderly as began to move, rubbing his pelvic bone over your clit with every thrust. You whimpered, feeling the tears fall from your clenched eyes as the warmth began to spread again.

Sylus smiled down at your beautiful face, eyes clenched tight with tears trailing down your cheeks. Perfect… She is so perfect. “So beautiful, baby. You’re trembling. You’re so close, aren’t you, pretty girl?” he rubbed your hair with one hand to soothe you and wiped at your tears with the other. You couldn’t form a coherent sentence, so you only answered him through an eager nod and whimpers. “Hm, I know, baby. Cum for me. Cum on my cock.” Sylus sped up, needing to see you lose yourself in pleasure. Lose yourself while clenched so tightly around him.

This was his favorite part, of course. After repeatedly bringing you to that edge, but pulling back before you could fall, you would always be so wound up that when the orgasm finally came, it would make you delirious with pleasure. He loved watching you as you finally crashed over the edge he kept you from and your face would contort in utter rapture, crying out his name and clenching so tight around him he’d have no choice but to follow you. He shook his head to focus on the present and ground against you to help you to reach what you’ve been begging him for. 

You whimpered as he gave his permission. You let go, no longer holding yourself back. The warmth in your tummy became an inferno as his thrusts became harder, rubbing your clit with his pelvis and the head of his cock jutting against that sweet spot inside you. You were so close. Just a little more pressure… “Please…” you begged on a needy sob. Sylus kissed you harder as he felt his own release building. He wrapped his arms around you to pull you up slightly in his arms, holding you so that you hovered over the bed as he pounded into you, holding you both up with his free hand on the mattress. The new angle had him going impossibly deeper, rubbing your clit against him with an intensity that finally pushed you over the boundary he had carefully pulled you from so many times. Your nails raked over his shoulders as you cried out. “Sylus! Yes!”

“That’s my good girl. Cum all over my cock. Fuck, you feel so good, baby… so tight,” he praised with a loud groan, rutting up into you as his own orgasm crashed over him. His grunts filled your ears, and it was his previous words coupled with them and his unrelenting ministrations that made your toes curl. Your body convulsed as wave after wave of pure bliss spiraled over your entire body. Your back arched into Sylus as his cum filled you, his thrusts not wavering as his body shook, ensuring he extended your pleasure as long as possible. 

Eventually, your cries subsided into soft, shuddering breaths as the tremors in your body slowly dissipated. Sylus sat back on his heels, holding you tightly the entire time you came down from your high, rubbing his hands down your back as you stayed wrapped around him. When your shaking stopped, he stood up from the bed. You stayed clutched to him as he walked to the washroom and started a bath. Sylus being Sylus, he added in his favorite epsom salts and relaxing bubble bath as the water filled up steadily. 

“My love, are you okay? I’ll hold you all night if you need, but I want to clean you up and take care of you. You did so well, but I know that had to be draining. Let me wash you then I’ll hold you so you can rest,” he whispered, rubbing his hands down your exposed ribs from where your arms were clasped like a restraint around his neck. He could feel your grip wavering and knew you were going to be out like a light as soon as your head laid down on his chest. You relented, loosening your grip in your legs around his waist as he wrapped his arm around your back and the other under your knees to lower you into the water. You sighed as you relaxed into it. 

“Just relax, I’ll take care of everything,” he said and kissed the top of your head. Methodically, he washed your body, almost like he was worshiping. He took care to be gentle around the sensitive junction of your thighs, kissing your shoulder when he lightly passed over it. He took a cup and filled it with water to run over your hair and began to wash it with his shampoo. She’s going to smell like me… he smiled to himself as he massaged your scalp. After washing it out, he combed through your hair with his fingers coated in conditioner. 

Sylus made sure to take extra good care of you after long sessions like the one today, diligently washing you, feeding you, massaging sore areas, or simply holding you so you know how much he loves you. After fully washing you and drying you off, he carried you back to the bed and laid you down among the mass of pillows and plushies you had “adopted” (as you put it). So beautiful... He smiled down at you, showing you all the love and tenderness he held in his heart for you. You smiled back sleepily and reached out for him to join you. He climbed in and gently pulled your head to his chest, rubbing his hand over your thigh in invitation for you to put it over his to rest. 

You snuggled into him as he kissed your head. “Thank you for taking care of me,” you whispered as you felt yourself beginning to drift off. Your speech slurred as sleep dragged you under. Sylus tightened his arms around you, his muscled chest hugging your cheek. 

“I will always take care of you, my love. You should know very well that I adore you. There is no love purer than mine. I love you, sweetie. Rest.”

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: dubcon, misogyny, degradation/condescension, toxic partner, gaslighting, guilt-tripping

♡ FEM reader

The first time he said you were made for him, you thought it was the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to you.

He’d said it with such unbothered air – so matter-of-factly – as if it were the most obvious thing, as though he was almost exasperated even to have to spell it out for you.

And you’d smiled, feeling warm and giddy. Lovey-dovey heart-eyes looking back at him with not a single second guess.

You should have asked him what he meant, though…

But you always brush such things off. Lying snugly against his side in bed, head resting on his chest with his muscled arm around your waist – watching a dumb movie on the laptop kept atop his abs.

“Tch- she’s just like you.” He snorts casually.

You barely hear it. And even then, it takes some time before you humor it.

But after your brain's bothered computing, you eventually pout –looking at the actress on the screen – sitting on the floor with tears streaming down her cheeks, all wet mascara streaks and tousled hair. 

She was pretty, but she looked nothing like you.

“What do you mean?” You ask after a little while – not having been able to pay attention to the rest of the plot. Too busy mulling what he’d said – trying to spin it positively as you so often do – but finding only far-fetched reasons, none of which sounded like something he'd bother say.

“What?” He mumbled. 

It had been a while since he’d made the comment – about half the movie already – so it was only fair.

“How’s she like me?”

He raised his brows – a bit of a double chin forming on his neck as he angled his head to look down at you.

“You know...” He brushed it off – redirecting his eyes back to the movie. The final climax was beginning.

You decide you can wait until the end. He’d just get annoyed if you talked through or paused the film now. 

He doesn’t spare you the same consideration, though – already with his hand casually running up your arm, coming to cup your tit.

He plays with it until the credits start rolling.

Closing the screen, he places it on the nightstand and climbs on top of you as though it were what both of you had been waiting to do.

“Uhm-” You protest – but he doesn’t take it as such, promptly dipping over to catch it with his lips – already pulling on his tight shirt, leaving your lips briefly to wring it off over his head. “Wait-” You interrupt before he’s back on you.

“What?” He breathes – nipping the corner of your mouth instead.

You hold his shoulders, trying to lift him off – but it doesn't seem like he even registers the effort – already buried in your neck with hot, open-mouthed kisses.

“You didn’t tell me what you meant earlier.” You remind him.

It takes a second before he remembers, asking, “Jeez – ‘you still thinkin’ about that?”

The kisses don’t stop. Instead, they return to try your lips again.

But you’re adamant about refusing – placing your hand over his mouth and giving him a glare – the one that tells him to listen when he isn’t – one that you have to use rather often…

He takes your hand and pins it to the pillow beneath in a finger-lock – kissing your lips despite it. “C’mon~ it’s not important.” He dismisses, words slurred with different objectives.

You slant your head to the side, and his lips meet your cheek instead. “No, really. I want to know what you meant.”

His brows furrow then – visibly getting annoyed with you – the irritation also evident in his voice. “Ugh – I’s just sayin’ you’re a little…” He leans back on his heels, where he's taken to kneel on top of you – his bulge rubbing against your mound, thick and stiff.

He scans the ceiling with his chin raised, releasing a sigh before looking back down at your face and the pouty look written across it.

He chuckles a little, grabbing the chubs of your cheeks in both hands to hold you – placing yet a kiss, now on your nose.

“I’m just sayin’ you’re cute, is all.”

He starts kissing you again – his hands hot at your sides, where he starts impatiently tugging at your top, lifting it up.

“Stop-”

You push his hands away.

This time, he sighs with rust – almost growling. “I swear – only you would make a big deal outta this.” He accuses suddenly – body sagging with his head hung. “All I meant is that you’re a little…”

Your brows furrow at his grumpy mumble. Your doubt about it being derogatory only solidifying – making your voice come out sharper.

“A little what?”

He huffs again – as though you were the one being unreasonable.

“A little hopeless at times.”

You gape. “Hopeless?”

You prop yourself up on your elbows, signaling for him to get off – but his hands squeeze your shoulders, keeping himself there. “You’re not getting’ me-”

“Apparently not.” You cut him off – still struggling to get yourself up.

But it takes only an effortless push from him to have your back thud against the mattress again.

“Say they were to make a movie about me, right?” He starts – ignoring the look you give him. “You’d play the love interest as a clueless damsel in distress. And I’d play the lead as the hero who saves you.”

You roll your eyes. “Right. Or, more realistically – you’d play an asshole, and I’d play the upset girlfriend who leaves you with blue balls.”

This time, you put your hands on his chest to push him off.

Unfortunately for you, he’s as steadfast as a mountain. 

“No, baby – come on.” He whines. Taking your wrists and sinking back down to your neck – kissing your collar with a tired groan. “You know what I mean.”

“Get off – I’m serious.” You put plainly now when everything else had failed. 

But only a sound scoff leaves him as he continues to touch – fiddling with your top again like before. “No. You’re throwing a fit.”

Your face is properly sour now – your voice, too. “I’m not a child.”

“Then quit actin’ like one, hm?” His hands squeeze your sides as he gruffs against your neck. “Face it, babe. You’re with me because you like havin’ someone capable supportin’ you.”

Your brows crinkle differently at the statement – softening just a bit – mainly because you weren’t sure whether to take offense or not. 

And before you can decide, he’s already adding to it, “Just like I like havin’ a cute, pouty, pretty little girlfriend cryin’ my name over every single silly little thing, too~” His voice went sweeter with the teasing – you felt the grin of it run against your jugular.

“You-”

“C’mon, don’t pretend.” He drawls. “You know I’m right.” 

You can’t really defend against it. After all – suppose – he was right...

“We’re perfect for each other~” He purrs groggily. Still laying wet lovebites to your neck. “You were made for me.” 

You don’t think it’s as romantic this time around – sounding more like a verdict.

Or a bitter truth.

“I like you just like this.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Kirishima, Touya, Hawks, Shinso ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Gojo, Naoya ♡ HQ – Kuro, Oikawa, Sakusa, Miya twins ♡ BLLK – Reo ♡ AOT – Eren ♡ DS – Sanemi ♡ WB – Suo, Togame

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[jeonsweetpea]

The Moon Knows Our Secrets (2) - Final

Exes to Lovers!AU | Hybrid!Jungkook x Hybrid!OC | Soulmate!AU 

genre: angst, smut, exes to lovers, vampire/werewolf hybrid (emphasis on werewolf), soulmates, forced proximity

rating: explicit

description: He doesn’t remember loving you. How could he, when you’re the one who erased his memories? You run into him a year later at a wedding. The year after that he’s reported missing and you go off to find him. Then you wonder: did he ever forget you?

word count: 17.7k

warnings (SPOILERS!!!): tension, resentment, fight scenes (nothing too graphic), Boxer!JK, injuries, blood, spying, drama with exes, arguing, underground cage fighting with ill intentions, OC and JK wrestle for control when he goes into his rut, a magic spell gone wrong, biting, JK and OC's POVs are included, HAPPY ENDING

smut warnings (tread carefully): masturbation (male), JK later goes into his RUT, kissing, unprotected sex, thigh job, oral sex (male and female receiving), scratching, rough sex, face-fucking, standing sex, knotting, creampies, dirty talk, multiple rounds, multiple orgasms, hickies, nipple play, tummy bulge, lots of cum, marking, doggystyle, slight breeding kink (no pregnancy), slight dumbification, pain kink, brief mentions of anal, chains, hand jobs

a/n: This is an epilogue for my series Moonstruck (inspired by TVD), but it can be read as a STAND-ALONE! You do not have to read Moonstruck (but it will be more satisfying if you have 😉). This is the most smut I've written in a while and I tried out a new writing style too. I hope you enjoy it! Reblogs and asks always make my day, thank you! Or if you prefer AO3, I post there too.

| Part 1 | Part 2

Six Months Later…

Another unknown number. You stare at your phone on the motel bed like the device is an uninvited guest as you step out of the bathroom, scrunching a towel around your damp hair. The clock on the wall reads midnight. 

Maybe it’s a client?

The call disappears before you can answer it, reverting to the lock screen—the wedding group picture from last year. You had cropped it where it showcases only you and Jungkook. It’s a tad pixelated from being zoomed in so much, but the same deer-in-the-headlights expression pokes through on both of your faces. He was holding you in a dip position because you had almost fallen. The memory makes you smile every time, and you need a little joy in this dreary room. 

You sit on the bed and the phone rings again, as if on cue. The towel is cast aside as you answer it, tapping the button for speaker mode. 

“Hello?”

“Is this Miss [Y/N]?”

Even your alarm clock can’t get you out of bed this fast. You’re up on your feet, placing the phone against your ear as your heart rate spikes. There’s no way. That deep, smooth voice was unmistakable, especially when it used to whisper the filthiest things in your ear. “Y-Yes, this is her. Who is this?”

As if you don’t already know. “I’m Officer Kim Taehyung, Headmaster Kim gave me your number.”

What’s the latest phone model in store? Because you’re seconds away from shattering the current one in your hands. Or maybe you should redirect your anger around Namjoon’s neck instead. You kept your words steady as you said, “Oh, I see. What can I do for you?”

“Well, I’m so sorry to call you at this hour, but I’m worried about a… a friend of mine,” he says. His hesitation on the “friend” label piques your interest. “I haven’t been able to reach him in a couple of weeks. I’m worried he’s gone missing.”

Wait. He’s an officer now? 

“If an officer such as yourself hasn’t been able to find him, that is worrisome. I’m assuming your friend is supernatural. Because that’s kind of all I do…”

“Yes, of course. He’s a hybrid.”

Your heart is lodged in your throat, unable to force the things you want to scream out. You had to take a deep breath before asking in a low voice, depicting how serious this is, “He’s a what?”

“A hybrid. Do you… know him?”

Do I know him… what a stupid question. You roll your eyes as if he could see you through the phone. “Text me everything you have on him. I’ll find him.”

“How?”

“Are you questioning my skills? I said I’ll find him.”

You hang up after that and collapse flat on your back, the mattress squeaking from your weight. You shouldn’t be so harsh on him; the poor man wasn’t up to date with all that’s happened. It’s not like he would know your history with Jungkook. Or you, for that matter. You made sure of that.

A buzz from your phone snaps you from your thoughts.

KTH: His name is Jeon Jungkook. His last known location was his apartment up north. I’ll send you the address and a picture.

He’s a man of his word, as the next text contains a map with the location marked by a round red pushpin. As much as you want to cremate Namjoon, Taehyung has given you the first lead you’ve had in months. If anything happened to Jungkook, you’d never forgive yourself. 

*Bzz*

Well, that’s new. It’s a picture of Jungkook under a white duvet, his arm bent, his head propped on his hand. Most of his body was covered, but the amount of skin showing at the junction between his neck and shoulder lets you know he is naked. Or at most, shirtless. Both are equally hot options if you have anything to say about it. 

His lips are pressed together into a coy smile, but his eyes are screaming “fuck me.” Like a personal challenge. 

KTH: Oops. I didn’t mean to send that picture.

You: It’s fine. I got the jist of what he looks like.

Why he has such a suggestive photo of Jungkook in the first place was concerning, but not enough for you to press further. 

Jungkook’s Point of View

My guard is up as my opponent swings his fists. His moves have zero technique, relying solely on blind rage as he tries to knock me out. Too bad I was quicker than him, playing the defensive first while I decided the best way to secure my victory. 

As we shuffle around the caged ring, the burly man in front of me grows impatient, like a bull taunted by a red cape. The more he charged, the more I dodged. He hasn’t gotten a single hit in, which only spurs the crowd to cheer louder for me. 

My heart is battering around in my rib cage, excited from the adrenaline rush. Having the spotlight on me, adoring fans, and exerting my muscles makes me feel alive. I don’t focus on anything else. I can’t. If I want to win, I transform whatever turmoil brews inside me into determination.

The rules are simple: no weapons, no biting, only fists and feet. Classic brawl style. We may be wolves, but there are boundaries, or our pride would cause a full-on slaughter.

The guy in front of me is drenched in sweat, and I see how his movements slowed—he was getting tired. It was time for me to go on the offensive.

I launch a kick, aiming for his right side. He caught it without even blinking, earning a choral gasp from the audience. They assume I’m in a bind, but I focus all my strength on my other leg and smack the dude across the face at lightning speed. He fell with a resounding thud, but I don’t wait for him to regain balance. 

I hit him with all I got—jab, cross, jab, cross. Right hook, left hook. He cowered in the corner like a bitch and I knee him in the gut. It was like watching a boulder topple over, his pride smashed into smithereens. Throwing my arms up, I circle the cage to pump up morale. The crowd bangs their fists against the enclosure as I roar. The referee begins the countdown from ten. 

Another victory added to my streak. Maybe I’ll treat myself and get laid tonight. I can smell the eager ones in the room and when I first got here, I always turned them down to be modest. Fuck that. I’m finally going to do it. 

I scan the room for potential suitors when my eyes land on her. It was like tunnel vision where everyone else was blacked out and she was the light at the end. I’m nothing but a moth to her flame, so gobsmacked that I rub my eyes to ensure I wasn’t seeing things. 

When I come to, she’s gone. There’s no way. 

I worked so hard to get over her. Is my brain so fucked that it’s starting to make me hallucinate? It seems years of therapy did absolutely nothing. Thanks, Jin.

Next thing I know the big guy recovers and tackles me to the ground. He got a good hit in; I tasted blood. There was no time to dwell on a figment of my imagination. My thirst for victory shouldn’t be underestimated as I swing my fist square in his jaw. I wasn’t going down that easy. 

Yikes. That’s a doozy.

I’ve been examining my face for five minutes now, hating how he split my lip open. Oh well. It’ll heal soon enough and I sent him home with far worse. 

That was the last fight of the night, so I had the locker room all to myself. The staff went home after sending the customers on their way. I go to my locker, type in the combination, and pull out a spare change of clothes and a towel. 

I head to the shower, placing my things on the bench. I undress, the first thing being my tank top, which had splotches of blood stained on the white fabric. Most of it wasn’t mine anyway, thankfully. I remove my shorts, discarding them in the same pile as my top. 

I enter the shower and close the curtain, turning the water onto the hottest setting. Once it hits my skin, I throw my head back and feel my muscles release its tension as I bask in the warmth. I tilt my head forward to get my hair damp when thoughts of her creep into my mind. 

It felt real. She looked real. I remembered everything about her appearance from head to toe even if I only saw her briefly. 

Her hair was dyed now to a color that suited her features. She had minimal makeup on that further enhanced her natural beauty. Her body was adorned in black skinny jeans where the seams were in front, matching her black combat boots and leather jacket. Underneath was a short-sleeved v-neck, her cleavage prominent and so inviting. Ugh. I shouldn’t be thinking about her in such a way, but where was I supposed to look? Her push-up bra was doing god’s work. 

Man, I’m so pathetic. I shouldn’t lust over her. She left me not once, but twice. What’s worse is she doesn’t know I remember everything. Maybe I shouldn’t have kept vervain on me that day. Would my life have turned out better? 

I dispense some body wash into my hands, lathering it between my palms before rubbing my torso. My hands trail down to my groin area, and I thoroughly clean it because sweaty balls are such a turn-off. But then I wrap my hand around the base of my cock, stroking it slowly. 

It looks like I’m washing it, but I already know what’s coming next. Memories of her are like shards of glass I can’t remove, embedded so deep that it scars. I reminisce about our past. How it felt to touch her, kiss her, love her. Her sweet moans, her soft breasts, her addictive scent. I’m palming myself and shuddering. Unlike her, my hands are calloused, but I pretend I have her soft touch.

I close my eyes and fantasize. I’d tear her clothes off with my bare teeth, mark all over her chest with my lips, turn her around, and take her. Indulge in my primitive urges and teach her a lesson. God, I wanted to fuck someone tonight, anyone, but my mind defaults to her. 

The soap makes it easy to glide my hand up and down my cock. I’m going much faster now, my breaths more ragged. No one’s here anyway. So I moan. I don’t give a fuck anymore. I just need to come and get this out of my system. 

I’m about to finish when there’s a gasp outside my stall. My entire body stills and I don’t take a moment to ask “Who’s there?” like the stupid idiots you see in horror movies. I think about what to do next and then commit. 

After turning off the water, I pull the curtain back and step out. I glance to my left to see the shower stall at the end has its curtain closed. It wasn’t like that before. 

I put on my boxers because I sure as hell wasn’t going to face this intruder naked. I plan to charge in there and drag him out without saying a word. Other than the sound of my footsteps, it’s eerily quiet. I reach my hand out, but as soon as I’m about to grab the curtain, the shower turns on. 

I hesitate, wondering if I’m about to be an asshole who’s about to expose an innocent soul out in the open. Before I built my reputation, I was jumped for being the new guy multiple times. That stopped after the third guy went home with three broken ribs though, but I can never be too careful. Some people were sore losers.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

Great. I’m not only stupid but polite. I’m sure the person behind the curtain will slit my throat any moment, so I better act fast. I grab the curtain and attempt to pull it, but it’s stuck. 

Or rather, someone is holding it still. I yank harder this time, but they refuse to budge. I use both hands, gripping it extra tight, and tug with all my might until the sound of torn fabric echoes in the room, revealing the culprit.

The person I thought I healed from, the one I once thought I would heal with, is standing right before me, her eyes as wide as mine. I can’t think straight, so my body moves without permission as I charge forward, pinning her to the wall face first. I have her arms pinned behind her back, catching my breath when I realized what I had done. 

I don’t want her to look at me. Because then I’d have to accept the fact that she’s real. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Your Point of View

Where do you start? Do you tell him you tracked him down to the countryside and climbed down a creepy cellar door behind a barn only to find out he was an underground cage fighter? Or explain how you followed him to the locker rooms hoping to get a word with him until you tripped on your shoelaces? 

It’s difficult to decide when he’s got your arms twisted behind your back. They were getting sore. 

“I–I heard you were missing,” you say, wary of your next choice of words. “Can you please let me go?”

You attempt to move, but he holds your wrists with one hand while using the other one to render your head immobile. He uses enough force to press your cheek against the cold tile.

“I didn’t say you could move,” he warned, his voice laced with venom. “Congratulations, you found me. I’m no longer missing.”

“And you’re a cage fighter?”

“What’s it to you?”

“You’re cheating. This place is only for werewolves and you’re a—”

He flips you around so quickly you almost get whiplash, your back pinned to the wall while he covers your mouth. He has a murderous glare, his jaw clenches, and the vein near his temple bulges out. “Be quiet. You never know who’s listening.”

Your eyes drink him in, ogling him unashamed because his beauty should have been illegal. His hair was damp, but you can tell it’s cut short now. He didn’t have any piercings in, his natural beauty was enough to make anyone fall to their knees—which is exactly what you wanted to do for him. But you don’t make a sound. 

You couldn’t help but notice the glorious sight of his inked sleeve. When did he get that many tattoos? You bet there was a story to each one, but before you can dwell on it, Jungkook shifts his hand from your mouth to your eyes. 

There’s a sense of deja vu from his actions. The last time he covered your eyes was to prevent you from compelling him two years ago. Following through with such a heartbreaking decision was difficult, but you believed it was for the best.

As for now? You’re not sure. 

“So you stalk me because you thought I was missing, follow me into the showers, and now you’re ogling me like a pervert?”

He got you there. “I… I didn’t mean to…”

“If the roles were reversed, I’d look like some sick freak. You invaded my privacy.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You should be. Let me ask you something, and I expect you to be honest: Were you listening to me earlier?” He saw you tuck your lower lip under your teeth like you wanted to seal the words shut. “Answer me. And don’t play dumb.”

“Yes,” you say, meek and pathetic. “I heard you.”

You can’t see him, but his eyes are crazed like he doesn’t know how to act around you. “And did you like what you heard?” He closes the gap between your bodies, his bare chest barely brushing against yours. His lips are ghosting across your own as he continues. “You like hearing me get off like some sick freak? Is that what you are? A fucking pervert?”

“N-No…” You don’t sound convincing in the slightest. 

His hot breath fans across your face. “I didn’t even get to finish.”

You gulp. “I… I could help you finish…”

Before your hand has a chance to sneak over to his lower region, he snatches it. “You aren’t allowed to touch me.”

“Technically, you touched me first.”

“Bratty now, are we? Don’t be flattered. I’d rather touch myself.” He releases your wrist, but his other hand is in the same spot, obstructing your sight. “I’m going to jerk off and you’re going to stand there until I’m finished.”

“What?”

“You heard me. And you’re going to keep hearing me until I’m satisfied. Understand?”

The constant steam from the shower was nearing the point of suffocation, but his words were far deadlier. “Okay.”

“Hands behind your back. I don’t want you tempted. Perverts like you can’t be trusted.”

You have to scold yourself for igniting a fire in the pit of your stomach from his slander, but you obey. Though you can’t see him, you hear the soft smacking sounds of him jerking his cock, surprised at how quickly he was to start.

If you had your sight, you’d be able to see how he is staring at your lips, wishing more than anything he could kiss you. How his eyes trail down to your cleavage and how the droplets of water made them look more enticing. His mind is racing a mile a minute through all his fantasies of how he’d take you, punish you, torment you until you were begging to come. As much as he does want to fuck you, you’re so damn gorgeous that admiring you was enough. 

His moans sound like soft sobs the closer he approaches his climax, his hand speeding up. It’s erotic, whiny, and sexy when he’s so desperate. He’s grunting through gritted teeth, panting like he’s running out of breath. You wonder if he makes the same noises when he’s working out. 

Fuck, you’d give anything to see him now. But his intentions were clear. You were to be still until he was finished. 

“Does this turn you on?” he asks, his voice shaky. He lays his chin on your shoulder, lips pressed against the shell of your ear. “I’m close.”

He lets out a choked gasp, whispering “fuck, fuck, fuck” as he pumps himself as fast as he can, reaching his high and submitting to the pleasure. It’s unbelievably erotic and he comes in his hand, catching the spurts of cum. He pulls back and stares at your lips again.

“Open.” Your mouth obeys willingly and he shoves two of his cum-soaked fingers inside. You close your lips around them, sucking them clean and savoring his taste. It’s bitter and slightly salty, but you welcome it. “Good girl.”

The praise brings a grin to your face. He rinses his hand under the water, turns it off, and finally releases his hold on you. You see the large expanse of his back as he walks away, almost drooling at his size. He slips on a loose black T-shirt, sweatpants, and slides. 

He looks over his shoulder. “Do you need clothes?” 

The question makes your heart swell. “I’m good.” 

Jungkook hears you mutter words similar to Latin. He turns around to see your necklace glow when you rub it between your thumb and forefinger. Your clothes dry in an instant, and he chuckles. “When did you learn magic?”

“I’ve had some free time.”

He peers down to your feet, letting out a heavy sigh as he walks over. Getting down on one knee, he ties your shoelace and you can’t help but melt. 

“I hope you have some free time now,” he says, lifting his head to meet your gaze. “I’m not done with you yet. We need to talk.”

It’s past 3 AM. The air is cool and crisp, carrying a faint scent of hay. Stars are twinkling in the clear night sky while the moon casts a silvery glow, illuminating silhouettes of barns in the distance. It’s quiet since folks are deep in their slumber, so walks home are usually serene. 

“Jungkook, wait up!”

Today’s an exception. “Hurry up, slowpoke.”

You jog to catch up to his pace on the dirt road. He rolls his eyes but slows his steps, tucking his hands in his pockets. “Didn’t you say we needed to talk?”

He stops abruptly, and you almost bump into his mountainous form. “Okay. Talk. Why are you here? You made it clear the last time we met that you couldn’t stay.”

You fumble with your words, as your brain isn’t quite as speedy as your lips. “Well I… I wasn’t in my right mind then.”

“Did I hurt you?” Your expression softens when you see the concern in his features, those brown doe eyes so big and round that you can see your reflection in them. Had he spent all this time fearing the worst?

“No… not in the slightest. I left because I was embarrassed.”

“I don’t believe you. You looked at me like…” He closes his eyes as if the next words would pain him. “Like I was a mistake.”

“No!” you exclaim, shaking your head. “You are anything but a mistake.”

“Then why do I feel like you’re hiding something?” He invades your space, his large frame towering over yours. “Why are you really here, [Y/N]?”

This is your chance to tell him the truth. With one command, you can make him remember loving you and all the shared memories that came with it. You’re ready to love him the way he deserves, but the thing is… you’re not sure you deserve him. Consequences were in order and pain was inevitable. He’ll hate you. He’ll feel betrayed.

Panic takes charge, forming an excuse for you. “I told you… someone told me you went missing. I was worried.”

He raises an eyebrow, prodding the inside of his cheek with his tongue like your answer was unsatisfactory. “Oh yeah? Who’s that?”

“Kim Taehyung.”

Jungkook drops his arms to his side. “Wow. That son of a…” He clasps a hand to his forehead, pacing back and forth in utter disbelief. “Guess I have two stalkers.”

“What exactly is Taehyung’s relationship to you?”

He stops and faces you, looking like you had offended him. “There is no relationship. There will never be a relationship, but he doesn’t seem to get that! God!”

You place your hands on your hips. “I don’t understand.”

He decides against elaborating but quickly changes his mind after seeing you use Taehyung to deflect.

“He’s an old roommate. We used to fuck. Okay?” Time seems to stop between you two but for an entirely different reason. You’re abhorred, unable to comprehend the fact your ex fucked your other ex. This must be the universe’s punishment for messing with their memories. Because the Jungkook you know would have never sought him out after everything Taehyung put you through.

You fucked my ex?! The dude who tried to kill you?! The guy who backstabbed us and harmed us?! Are you insane?!

You have to bite your tongue before the house of cards collapses. 

“I was experiencing my first rut. It was overwhelming. Not like I could fuck a human without hurting them. Permanently,” he adds, watching how your face morphs into one lost in thought. “What’s up?” 

You snap out of it. “Oh. Nothing. Before Taehyung, I went west because there were rumors of the ‘Cervix Splitter’ and thought…”

He stares at you, mouth agape as he points to himself. “You thought that was me?!”

“I don’t know!” you say, holding your hands out with your palms up. “I think they might have a serial killer loose… damn.”

“Can we please stick to the subject?” he asks, exasperation coating every word. You nod and gesture for him to continue. “Anyway, he and I ran into each other and one thing led to another. We were both hybrids with needs. It was a good arrangement, but then he got obsessive. Wanted a relationship. I said no.”

You give him a look of sympathy as you recall how Taehyung reacted when you broke up with him. Even though you erased your existence from his mind, it seems his obsessive tendencies lingered. Some things never change. “He didn’t like that very much, did he?”

“What do you think? I ran away, so he’d leave me alone. It worked for the past few months until you showed up.” He narrows his eyes into slits. “Did you tell him I was here?”

“No. He keeps texting me though.”

He points an accusatory finger at you. “You’re not going to tell him anything. Got it?”

“I won’t. But if you keep that tone up, I might reconsider,” you warn.

“And how would that benefit you? Do you know Taehyung?”

Unfortunately. “It’s my job to help those in need in the supernatural community.”

“What are you, the Scooby Doo gang?” He steps back to laugh. “Is this what you’ve been up to since you’ve left?”

“Don’t make fun of me,” you scold. “Helping is what I do. I’m good at it. It clears my mind.”

“Okay. Then you can ‘help’ yourself out of here. Tell Taehyung you didn’t find me while I go home and rest. I’m exhausted.”

He dashes off, leaving a trail of dust in his wake. You follow at once and encounter a quaint cottage surrounded by forestry. Jungkook waits at the front door, folding his arms across his chest.

“Do you need something else?” he asks. You swear you can see the cogs turning in his mind, unable to figure out what’s your angle.

“Are you going to continue fighting?” 

He shrugs. “Yeah. It’s a great stress reliever. Keeps me from…” His eyes flit to your lips for a brief second. “... overthinking. Plus I get great perks. Respect. Fans. Money.”

“You don’t need money.”

“I know, but it’s a power trip having it. Besides, people bet on me. I’d hate to let my loyal benefactors down.”

You mirror his stance, folding your arms as displeasure passes your face. “You’re a hybrid. It’s a given you’ll win every fight and that’s not fair to their pack.”

“Only if they find out.” You’re about to counteract his argument, but he beats you to it. “Look. Boxing’s my thing. I enjoy the rush it gives me. Exerting my muscles, feeling that sweet burn, and fighting until my body gives out—it’s addicting. I feel alive.”

His eyes shimmer with every word he speaks like he was putting on a speech to inspire high school kids. It only brings you more dread when there’s a confession on the tip of your tongue. 

“Well… do you have to box here?”

“I like it here. Now if you don’t mind…”

He pulls out his keys, turns around, and inserts them into the lock. You nibble on your thumbnail, scrambling to come up with another excuse. Once he enters, you use your enhanced speed and invite yourself in. 

“Can I stay?” you ask, quick to shut the door. He chuckles, impressed by your tenacity.

“What is with you? Don’t you have a Cervix Splitter to catch? Please leave.”

The words bubble up in your throat, forcefully coming to the surface like word vomit. “You can’t stay here!”

The outburst garners his undivided attention as he stares at you dumbfounded like there is Wii music playing in the background. “Why?”

“There’s some people who know you’re a hybrid…” you reveal, your voice reduced to a mere squeak.

“What did you say?” he asks through gritted teeth. You don’t reply and he repeats himself, this time with a lower volume, which spooks you more than if he was shouting. “What did you do?”

“When I came here to find you, I asked if anyone saw you. I showed them a picture and told them you’re a hybrid. Thought it’d make it faster…” You let out a small laugh. “I was kinda right…”

Jungkook looks like he’s at a crossroads of whether to hate you or murder you. Or both. “Why would you expose me like that?”

“I didn’t know it was a secret.” He lifts his fist at an angle toward the door, and you wait for him to slam it down in anger. However, he sighs and lowers his hand slowly, splaying his fingers against the wood. You blink twice, choosing your next words carefully. “I don’t understand. Why would you hide the fact you’re a hybrid?”

He holds onto the sides of his head like he is about to rip his hair out. “Oh, I don’t know,” Sarcasm is dripping in every word. “Did you forget how your grandparents tried to kill us when they discovered your existence?”

What did he say?

His hands drop down by his side as do yours. Realization dawns upon you two, the world coming to a screeching halt. Shock renders you immobile as the gears in your head try to turn, but they’re overwhelmed by the million questions plaguing your mind. He shouldn’t know that. He shouldn’t remember that. Unless… he never forgot.

“You remember me… You remember everything,” you say in a breathy tone. You should’ve seen it coming, especially with how he acted at the wedding. “How do you—“

“I had vervain on me,” he confesses without the slightest remorse. 

You take a small step back, almost stumbling. “So this whole time… you never forgot me? You knew what I did and didn’t say anything? You slept with Taehyung?!”

“That’s what you got from this? That’s what you choose to focus on?” His question pins you for a fool. 

“Because that’s the stupidest thing you could’ve done! I erased his memories so he could start fresh. Same with you!”

“What difference does it make? I asked, no, I begged you not to erase my memories and you did it anyway.”

You steel yourself to remain calm. “Because I didn’t want you burdened by me anymore. I thought I was doing what was best for you.”

He tilts his head, his eye slightly twitching as he raises a finger like he is about to lecture you. “Stop. Stop saying it was best for me when the reality was, you were only thinking about yourself.” He takes a sharp inhale. “You wanna know why I got with Tae? Because I was a mess when you left. Devastated. Broken people look for broken people, [Y/N].”

You threw your head back. “Oh my god... This is precisely why I wanted you to forget.”

He almost snarls. “You don’t get it, do you? You always do this. You make decisions without my consent. I never asked to be a hybrid, I never asked for any of this shit.”

You place a hand on your chest, offended. “I’m sorry, you’re upset I turned you to save your life?”

“You turning me was what started this whole mess,” he spits out, revulsion apparent. “I was sired to you, I fell in love with you, I went through hell and back only for it to not matter in the end. You left me. I could forgive you the first time, but not for the second.”

There aren’t any words you can say to combat this. 

“I remember everything about you. About us,” he says, the look in his eyes resembling a kicked puppy. “I remember what you said the day you tried to compel me.”

“Don’t,” you plead. He throws your words back at you in a rather snarky manner.

“‘When I’m ready, I’ll come to you and you can decide then if you’ll have me.,” he quotes. “I used to think I’d be okay waiting for you to come around… but that was incredibly stupid. You came back only to abandon me again and for what? To go around playing vigilante?”

“Jungkook…”

“No, I’m not done.” He starts to pace back and forth. “Did you ever stop to think about what I wanted? Of course not. Because in the end, it’s all about you. You should’ve erased everything. What was the point of only erasing my love for you, huh?”

“What do you want me to say?” you ask, fighting back tears.

“I want you to tell me the truth. You erased Taehyung’s memories of you because he was a psychopath but spared me the smallest glimpse. Why? Why not erase it all?”

“Because I love you!” you exclaim. He stops pacing, shooting you a skeptical glare. “And knowing that you still remembered me, even a tiny part of me, was comforting enough to help me move on. I needed space.”

“Well, isn’t that sweet? But I’m not your safety net, [Y/N].” He walks over to his front door and pulls it open. “Get out.”

You shake your head. “Jungkook, please.”

“Either you get out or I’ll throw you over my shoulder and force you out.”

The resentment he had must’ve grown exponentially over the years. If you push him further than you already had, he might snap. So you exit his house but go for one final attempt at whatever relationship you can salvage with him.

“Please let me stay. I can protect you from those cage fighters if they decide to get even.”

“No. You’ve done enough.”

“Jungkook—”

“Enough!” His voice carries, causing birds to flutter their wings and find solace in another tree further away. You watch as he towers over you again, but beneath his icy glare is a heartbroken man. “Since I first saw you, I have belonged to you completely.”

He tightens his fists, closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath before saying the next part.

“I have always belonged to you. And for that, I suffered. I came here to escape, to heal, and it worked. I was at peace and you waltz in here, stirring up chaos in my life where it’s not welcomed.” His eyes never waver and you don’t dare look away. “And what’s funny is how you expect me to do what? Take you back?”

“I… I don’t know. I thought…”

“You thought wrong,” he finishes for you. “Do you think it’s easy seeing you? I’m angry, [Y/N]. You make me so mad I can’t even think straight.”

“Then yell at me! Don’t push me away.”

“I’m pushing you away because I know you. And I know what hurts you the most.” He caresses your face longingly, slowly, like it’d be the last time. His fingers ghost the surface of your skin, and you lean in, desperate for more. But he pulls back. “Either you choose me or you lose me. And it’s too late to choose me now. Goodbye [Y/N].”

“No,” you say like a stubborn child. “I don’t want to leave you. I’m afraid to lose you. Please.”

He clicks his tongue at you as he shakes his head. “I suggest you face your fears. It’s not like this is the first time.”

The last thing you see is the door being slammed in your face.

Jungkook’s Point of View

That was the worst sleep of my life. I couldn’t stop thinking about her and how I left her. She deserved all my venomous words, but empathy made me regret everything. Why do we even need such an emotion when all it does is make us feel like shit?

It’s pitch black in my room. The low-pitched sound of the air conditioner is my only companion. I enjoy being alone, but that doesn’t mean I don’t get lonely. I shouldn't get used to missing her, but I’m used to it again. I wish she were here.

I decide to get dressed and quickly leave the house. For once the angel and devil on my shoulder agree, pressing me to find her but for two different reasons. One says to forgive and forget, the other craves to deliver punishment and commit sins. 

I tell myself I’m going hunting instead. Rabbits and squirrels fall prey to my clutches and I feel a pang in my heart when I drink their blood, but I have to survive somehow. Before I knew it, it was dark outside and the moon looked lonely, almost like it was crying in the night sky. 

I couldn’t find her. I searched all day, but the countryside is vast, and I’m drenched in sweat. Checking the time on my watch, I see I’m late for my next fight. 

Shit. 

It’s fine. She’s an Original Hybrid and can take care of herself. 

Rushing back to the barn, I circle to find the angled cellar door. I pull the handle, descend downstairs, and run into one of the bouncers. Aside from cage fighting, the underground establishment is used for clubbing and drinking most days of the week. I hear the heavy bass from the music, feeling the ground shake from the vibrations. I greet the bouncer with a handshake, but he stares at me like I had pissed in his thermos. 

“Ms. Lim wants to see you,” he says, his voice gruff. He gestures his bald head towards the door that says “AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY” on the right, so I head there. There’s a narrow hallway and at the end of the corridor is her office. I slowly open the door. 

“Jungkook,” Her nasal voice already has a trace of annoyance as I poke my head in. She’s sitting behind her desk with two henchmen about twice my size, both dressed in suits with their hands clasped in front. “Come in please.”

I do what she says and she points to the chair in front, so I sit. “Hello, Ms. Lim. I know I’m late, I’m sorry. Can I have the next fight?”

Her mouth twitches. “No. We need to talk.”

She snaps her fingers and the two bodyguards stand on either side of me, each placing a firm hand on my shoulders. When I squirm, they hold me tighter as if cementing me still. I let out a nervous laugh, feigning innocence. “What’s going on?”

The middle-aged woman adjusts her thick-rimmed glasses, scoffing like I was being impolite in the presence of royalty. “I run a tight-knit business, Jungkook. My wolves… They follow me. They listen to me. Because I’m honest and upfront. I don’t dish out bullshit.”

She stands, placing her hands behind her back as she circles the front of her desk, closing the gap between us. 

“Wolves like to fight. It’s in our nature to have some aggression. Here you can release it in a healthy, controlled environment,” she says. “When you first arrived, I liked you right away. The sheer arrogance you had, the drive to win—you were a natural for the ring. People bet on you because you never let them down.” She leans against her desk, lowering her glasses onto the tip of her nose bridge to look at me. “You don’t want to let people down, right?”

The bait can’t be more obvious, but I indulge her anyway. “Of course not.”

My answer seems to placate her and she puts her finger under my chin, tilting my head up. “Then I need you to tell me the truth. What are you, Jungkook?”

“I’m a wolf. Just like you, ma’am.” Not like that was a complete lie. I am a wolf. Half.

She grips my chin harder, her pupils blown so wide that they overtook her irises. “Is that all?”

“Look, it’s clear you know something so why don’t you…” She whips out a pistol from underneath the slit in her long dress and I stare down the barrel without moving a muscle. 

“There’s no fear in your eyes. Probably because you know and I know that this crummy little thing won’t kill you.” She pulls the trigger, but the shot is empty. I try my best not to scowl as she puts it away. “One of my men ran into a strange girl yesterday. She was hysterical, almost aggressive in asking about you.”

“Make your point.”

“She told me you were a hybrid. Is that true?”

I lean back against the chair, my shoulders less tense now that the secret is out. “Yes. So what? I’m still part wolf.”

“You’re half-wolf,” she corrects. “I don’t give a damn about you being a hybrid. But I do care that you weren’t fully transparent with me. And people talk. Word gets around I’m letting a hybrid take all the winnings and my business is done.”

“No one has to know.”

“Oh darling… she blabbed all over town about you. I’m sure everyone already knows. But I have a deal for you if you want to stay.”

Judging from her toothy smile, the chances of this deal being more beneficial for her than me are high. “What deal?”

“Do you know how much money I can make if I put two hybrids against each other?” she asks, flashing a smirk. “Especially with a pretty little thing like her against someone like you. The crowd would go wild.”

I shake my head. “I’ll pass. She’s not into cage fighting and I don’t hit women.”

“Who says she’s not?” I don’t like her tone and the insinuation behind it. “Darling, who do you think is taking your place right now?”

“What?”

“[Y/N] is fighting her heart out at this very moment. The wolves adore her. Probably because I said whoever beats her gets to breed her.”

This time I force myself to stand, knocking out both men when they attempt to grab me again with a one-two combo. They collapse with a resounding thud, and I head straight for Ms. Lim. I’m holding her dress collar and lifting her in the air, but she remains unphased.

“Where is she?”

“I see she’s important to you.”

“Where is she?!” I shout, not caring that I spit on her. 

“She turned you, right? How’d she do it? Did you two have sex?”

“I’m not asking you again,” I warn. She wraps her hand around my wrist, her irises shifting to a muted gold as she pries my hold off her, dislocating my hand. I curse in pain, fully prepared to retaliate, but she snaps her fingers three times. 

I hear footsteps from behind me and the door opens with a loud slam. Looking over my shoulder, I see about fifty men in black suits who are bigger than me enter the room. They all bear matching stoic expressions, but their fists are up and ready as their pointed glares shoot in my direction. 

“There isn’t much information on hybrids and experimenting on an Original is too good of an opportunity to pass up. I’m sure my boys would love to breed her. Then business would be booming with hybrid fighters at my side!” Ms. Lim cries.

My blood is boiling and I swear I’m seeing red. I snap my wrist back into place without breaking eye contact and backhand her across the face. She falls to the floor, stunned, holding the side of her cheek. “I thought you said you don’t hit women!”

“My apologies. I meant beautiful women.”

Three men grab me—one at each arm and the last holding my waist. The others line up, each taking a jab at me. The first punch is aimed at my stomach. One breaks my nose. Another hits me square in the jaw. I see stars by the time Ms. Lim stands, holding her hand up for them to stop. 

“How dare you? Oh, I’m going to make sure your little girlfriend is knocked up. Poor thing has no clue what plans I have for her.”

I muster enough strength to spit at her, flicking droplets of blood onto her face. She shrieks in disgust and slaps me in return. I only laugh like a madman.

“Good luck… she’s infertile…” I say, trying to find my breath. “And my girl can take care of herself. She won’t lose.”

“It’s okay. I can still find plenty of uses for her. If my boys can’t breed her, they can still fuck her once they’re done with you. I bet she screams pretty,” Ms. Lim says.

“You’re lying!”

“Am I?” She snaps her fingers again, prompting the last man who punched me to step forward. He pulls out something gold from his pocket, dangling it in front of me like a carrot for a rabbit. My face falls when I recognize the double moon charms. “Mr. Ahn here is the first one that defeated [Y/N]. He’ll get to have her first.”

The douchebag has a devilish grin as he slips the necklace over my head. He pats my cheek twice before smacking it hard on the third. I bare my teeth, more than ready to kick his ass, but other men are holding me still.

“I’m going to check the status of our beautiful prize and see if she’s ready for Mr. Ahn,” Ms. Lim declares, exiting the room with the sleazy bastard. Right before she closes the door, she sticks her head in and adds, “Whoever gets that necklace from him gets to have her next.”

The door shuts and I’m shouting curses at her until my throat is hoarse. All sense of self-control goes out the window as I unleash my wrath, my anger blinding me as my fists take control. In cage fights, I’ve had to hold back. But now? I’m ready to demolish anyone who gets in my way.

Your Point of View

After Jungkook kicked you out, you roamed the area for a place to stay. With your abilities, you had endless options: an inn, a motel, a farmhouse, or even the forest if you prefer. Heartbroken, you planned to wolf out until a middle-aged woman found you on the side of the road. 

She drove beside you, parked her car, and rolled down her windows. Your first instinct was to walk away, but she mentioned Jungkook and how she was his boss. She told you how her place wasn’t too far away, offering a place for you to stay the night. 

Questions kept pouring out of you, but she wouldn’t answer until you agreed to her offer. Your guard was up the whole night despite the fact she was a werewolf too. She doted on you with tea and snickerdoodles, but you didn’t dare take a bite until after she did.

Though you were on edge most of the night, her aura was warm, like a grandmother’s love or what you could only imagine as such. Your grandparents tried to eradicate you for being a hybrid, believing that your existence was an abomination. It’s funny how Ms. Lim, someone not blood-related, treated you far better than they ever did.

She answered your questions about Jungkook, but you didn’t dare overshare about your relationship with him. She persuaded you to join her the next day at work, offering the gym and free training sessions with her best fighters. You weren’t sure at first, but then ultimately gave in.

The next day Ms. Lim gave you a tour of the underground cellar and you couldn’t believe how massive it was. Everyone you encountered greeted you like one of the family, and you got to learn new fighting techniques with her bodyguards. 

When it was nighttime, Ms. Lim suggested you fight for real. You worried it’d be unfair, but she assured you the opponents were more than willing. 

Your first opponent is a man who looks like the descendant of a Viking. His muscles are so large you can see the veins bulging underneath his skin. He gives you a crooked smile, which you would’ve found somewhat attractive if he hadn’t made a sexist comment the next second.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing in the ring? Hasn’t no one swept you off your feet and wed you yet?” You make the first move and use his words against him, sweeping him off his feet with your leg. He falls flat on his back and laughs while the crowd cheers. “It’s a shame. You’d make a great mother.”

“I’ll pass,” you say, sounding extra snarky. 

“Come on. You know you can’t beat me.”

The man got back up only to be taken down again with a skillful spin kick, causing his back to slam against the cage. You smirk as his expression shifts to anger, and he tackles you to the opposite side like a mad bull. Grunts come from both sides as you use your elbow, jabbing the top of his head until he lets go. 

You jump high and hang from the top of the cage, using your strong thighs to hold his head hostage. His oxygen depletes as his face turns purple, clawing at your legs but you don’t let up. His hands fall to his sides before his body collapses. Only then do you let go and land in a cool pose, feeling like a superhero. 

The crowd goes wild and you jump up and down like a kid who scored the winning goal. “I did it!”

You see why Jungkook loved this place so much. It’s an indescribable feeling, a rush of exhilaration as glory consumes you. 

Once you see Ms. Lim and her main bodyguard, you step out of the ring and greet her. “Ms. Lim, did you see? I won!”

She wraps her arm around your shoulder, giving you a toothy grin. “I know. I told you you’d do well. Let me show you your prize.”

You gasp. “I get a prize?” 

She leads you through the sea of fans. “Of course. Everyone gets compensated.”

You enter a door that leads you to a narrow hallway. The lights were dim, but it was enough for you to see something horrific. From where you stand to the door at the end are unconscious bodies strewn across the floor. Some are slumped against the wall, others are flat on their back or stomachs, each carrying some deformity. There’s blood splattered on the floor, but it wasn’t gorey enough to be deemed a bloodbath (though the sight was still alarming).

“What the fuck happened?” you ask. Ms. Lim screams in shock when she steps in, covering her mouth as she stumbles back. If not for Mr. Ahn, she probably would’ve fallen.

The door at the end of the corridor opens and you hear ragged breathing. There you see Jungkook stagger out, barely able to hold himself up with one arm. He has cuts on his face and a black eye, so his vision is halved. His tank top is in shreds, the fabric hanging by a thread as it dangles from his bruised body. 

He regains part of his strength once he sees you. “[Y/N]?”

You rush over to catch him before he falls. “Jungkook, what happened?!”

He’s putting his entire weight on you, close to fainting. But one look at Ms. Lim and he’s fired up. “That bitch… I’m gonna kill her…”

Ms. Lim wastes no time, urging Mr. Ahn to run away with her while you’re left bamboozled. “Ms. Lim?”

“She’s going to pay… She’s going to…”

Jungkook can’t fight his body’s limits anymore. The last thing he sees is darkness.

Sunlight pours through the window, stirring Jungkook from his slumber. He slowly opens one eye, surprised to see snow-covered trees and clear skies outside. In a daze, he sits up, holding his side as a sharp pain shoots through his body. He’s quick to notice his upper body has been covered in gauze and bandages. 

Whoever did it was meticulous. His chest and shoulders are tightly bound in layers, protecting his battered torso. The bandages crisscrossed over his ribcage, some were wrapped around his biceps, with the gauze extending down to his forearms. Bloodstains seeped through while he was asleep, but they don’t warrant any concern for now.

Jungkook touches his face, finding the cut on his cheek and upper lip taken care of. His other eye is no longer swollen, allowing him to observe his surroundings. He sees he’s in a cozy room, the wood ceiling and floors making him believe he’s at a lodge. There’s a large window to his right as well as a nightstand. The lamp sitting atop casts a warm golden glow, and Jungkook turns it off by pulling the string. 

There’s a gentle knock on the door. “Jungkook? Are you awake?”

He lays back down, covering his body with the duvet and closing his eyes as if he had never woken up. The doorknob jostles as you enter the room, holding a cup of water. You see his state and tip-toe closer, setting the mug on the nightstand. 

Staring at people while they sleep is creepy, but Jungkook looks angelic. Even if his face was marred, it didn’t stunt his beauty. If anything, his injuries made him more beautiful, the bandages being proof of his protectiveness. What he was protecting, you don’t know. 

“When you wake up, we seriously have a lot to talk about,” you whisper, pulling a nearby stool to sit on. “I don’t know why you did what you did. Ms. Lim and her men were so nice to me. She let me stay at her place after you kicked me out.”

You stick your tongue at him like a brat but end up giggling at your immaturity. 

“You were right to kick me out though,” you say, sighing. “Even with the best intentions, I can’t make things right. I’m sorry. Trust me, no one is more frustrated with me than me. That’s why when Ms. Lim suggested for me to fight, I didn’t hesitate.”

You ball your fists. “But it was so fun. I won my fight like bam! Bam! Bam!” You punch the air at each onomatopoeia, and Jungkook has to refrain from laughing. Why were you so cute?

“I get why you do it now. I’ve always had to fight for survival. I didn’t think it could be… gratifying. Anyway, I support your cage-fighting career,” You purse your lips. “But I guess you don’t have one anymore, considering what you did back there. I’m honestly confused. Why did you hurt them? I chased after Ms. Lim and uh… well, she burned your house down.”

You wait a second as if he’d respond. “She told us to never come back with no explanation… I didn’t even get my prize for winning,” you huff. 

Jungkook grunted, almost like he didn’t like what he was hearing. He turns onto his side, so he’d be facing away from you and wraps himself in a blanket burrito. The spot where he once lay had something gold in it. You carefully pick it up and caress the double moon charms with your thumb.

“My necklace…”

You stare at the back of his head, the gears in your head turning as you try to put the puzzle pieces together. Upon closer inspection, you notice faint bloodstains on the back of the charms and some on the chain.

“Did one of those men have my necklace? You beat up thirty men for it?”

“It was around fifty, but who’s counting?”

Your breath hitches, wondering if you were hearing things. Jungkook slowly sits up, resting his back against the headboard and flashing a cheeky grin. Heat spreads to the apples of your cheeks. 

“Were you awake this whole time?”

“Maybe.” He gives you a quick once over. “Are you hurt? Did anyone touch you?”

“Hmm? I’m fine. I should be asking you that. You took a beating and I’m still confused as to why.”

He slumps against the headboard, sagging like a dramatic blob. “God, you’re dense.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? My necklace is all bloody… was this the prize Ms. Lim intended to give me?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes so far back they might as well get stuck. “Ms. Lim’s prize wasn’t the necklace. It was you. You were her men’s prize after the fight. She planned to let them have their way with you.”

Your eyes fall to the ground, your heart heavier than an anchor in a bottomless sea. Jungkook sees how you clutch the necklace in your fist, wishing he hadn’t revealed the truth so bluntly. 

“Hey… I’m sorry,” he begins. “I didn’t mean to…”

“No. I was naive. After what happened with my grandmother, I thought Ms. Lim was different. Anyway,” you say, changing the subject. “That’s why you did what you did?”

“I thought she had you trapped somewhere. Or that without your necklace, you were at a disadvantage. She told me Mr. Ahn defeated you and I just went berserk at the thought of something happening to you.”

It’s hard not to see the love he has for you in those beautiful eyes of his. “I never fought Mr. Ahn, but I’m pretty sure I would’ve won. I’m freakin’ awesome in the ring.”

Jungkook chuckles. “I know. I never doubted your skills. She riled me up and I assumed the worst.”

“Well… Thank you for looking out for me. I’m glad to have my necklace back. I thought I lost it for good.”

“I thought I lost you.”

Time comes to a standstill. No more words are shared, yet so much is being said through simple eye contact, an unspoken language only the two of you understand. Your hearts are burning, aching with desire, but you don’t dare act on it. You don’t deserve him. At least, that’s what you tell yourself to maintain restraint. 

“Can I put it on you?” he asks, pointing to the piece of jewelry in your hand. 

“Oh! Yeah, sure.” A white glow emits from your fist and when you open your palm, Jungkook sees the necklace is spotless. You hand it to him and shift positions, so your back is towards him. He scoots closer, his legs now dangling off the bed. 

When he brushes your hair away, your body tenses up. You see the gold chain from above before it settles on your collarbone. Jungkook leans in, getting a better view of the clasp but struggles to attach it. Seconds tick by like hours, but you don’t mind how long he takes. His hot breath on the nape of your neck is distracting you anyway.

“Almost got it…” he mumbles. And thank goodness too because you didn’t realize you were holding your breath the entire time. Once he’s finished, he leans back but you turn your head to the side and almost end up kissing him.

“Oh sorry, I—” You move away, but he places his hand on the back of your neck, holding you in place. 

“Stay.”

Stay still? Stay with him? Whatever he meant, it sounded like a command, a challenge, a test. You’re entranced by how close he is, your nose about to touch his, and his lips—fuck. They’re drawing near, but he stops a centimeter away and smirks like a damn tease. You swear you’re on fire, the heat radiating off his body further exacerbating things. 

His eyes droop down, but it’s not to your lips. Rather, he takes his free hand and holds the double moon charms between his forefinger and thumb, sliding it until it’s positioned in the center. 

“There,” he says, still far too close. There’s a deep yearning in his eyes, a passion he longs to share with you, but he’s holding himself back. “Don’t go anywhere.”

You pout. “What, suddenly you’re okay with me around?”

“Seeing you drives me mad, but not seeing you makes me insane,” An aw almost slips out of you, but you nod instead. “I’m trying so hard to hate you…” he whispers.

You match his volume. “Why?”

“Because it’s easier than admitting the opposite.” He finally releases his hold and leans back, allowing you to regain a semblance of sanity. “So where are we exactly?”

You fiddle with your necklace and try not to dwell on his words. “I used a teleportation spell and it took us here.”

“Randomly?”

“No. I didn’t know what to do, so I cast a spell to take me to Professor Jin. He’s here with Namjoon. They’re on vacation.” 

All of a sudden Jungkook groans and he’s clutching his abdomen. “Ah fuck...”

You jump out of your seat to examine him closer. “What’s going on?”

Sweat forms on his upper lip, his body temperature rising steadily as if someone turned on the heater to its max. It’s an all too familiar feeling. He laughs at the horrid timing, but it exacerbates his pain.

“I’m going to need you to learn a new spell,” he says, panting so much you fear he’d pass out.

“Why?”

“Because I’m about to go into a rut,” he answers, glaring at you like you’ve made a grave mistake, “and I don’t have boxing to distract me anymore.”

“Do you want me to help—” 

“No,” You can’t help but feel offended, and undesired, but he adds, “I don’t want to take advantage of you. It’s not right.”

“Okay…” You rub your arm and like the keen observer he was, he tacks on another thing and you’re not sure if he’s trying to make you feel better or himself. 

“I don’t give consent because it’s out of my control. Our time together shouldn’t be influenced or pressured because of other circumstances.”

You almost laugh at the hilarity of that statement. “Isn’t that the whole basis of our relationship? Everything always comes with a condition. This is exactly why I left…”

Jungkook’s pained expression morphs into something worse—dismay. You go for damage control, wishing you could take those words back and shove them far into the depths of your mind where they couldn’t hurt anyone. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, full of regret, “I shouldn’t have said that. If you say no, I understand. It’s a no.”

“It’s fine. Not like you’re wrong. Can you go get Jin please?”

Jungkook’s Point Of View

I want to tear these bandages off. And then my skin. It’s too damn hot and the timer on my sanity is dwindling. The snow outside looks inviting and is the only blanket I want covering me. 

A knock on the door garners my attention and [Y/N] rushes in, carrying something silver between her fingers.

“Sorry for the wait, I got it!” Fuck, she smells incredible. There’s nothing on Earth that can compare to her delicate, sweet aroma. It’s my Kryptonite, my guilty pleasure. Once she draws near, I pin her to the bed, ignoring the soreness of the muscles I was supposed to be recuperating. “Jungkook?”

I snuggle into the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent like some deranged pervert as I squeeze her hip. The closest description is like a honey-sweet fruit, ripe for picking. But fruit bruises easily when they fall into the wrong hands. And now she’s in mine.

She whimpers softly, and it only further fuels my arousal. “It shouldn’t be this easy yet your hold over me is… pathetic.”

I hover over her face and bring a hand up to squeeze her cheeks, forcing her lips to pucker. Cute. 

“Do you know what filthy things I want to do to you? I’ve been fantasizing for years about this moment,” I say, unable to contain my smirk. Her chest heaves against mine and the panic that flashes across her face is adorable. I loosen my grip a bit so she can reply. 

“Tell me then,” she breathes and I chuckle at how wobbly her voice sounds. 

“I wanna fuck you like I hate you. It’s not going to be that tender bullshit, I’m going to be rough. I’m going to use you and all your holes until you’re screaming and I’m the only one that occupies your thoughts, so you can see the hell you put me through when you left. I’m going to bring you to heaven only to drag you back down to Earth and make you sin harder.”

I can smell much more than fear coming from her silence. Her fingers are clutching what I can now see is a silver body chain. She’s fast, but I’m faster as I pin her wrist down before she can put it on me. Her hand is hanging over the edge of the bed and I grip her wrist, upping the pressure and twisting slightly until she groans in pain, dropping the chain. It falls with a soft clink and I give her an amused grin.

“Was that mediocre thing supposed to quell my urges?” I taunt.

“Ideally, yes,” she remarks, unable to hide her bratty attitude. “Let me put it on you.”

“No.”

She gives me a look like I’m a bad child about to be put on time-out. Maybe I want to be bad. “Jungkook.”

“Come on… you said it yourself. You want to help,” I use my thigh to part her legs. “I’m in desperate need of it.”

She scoots her body upwards to get away, but like a parasite, I latch on and follow, pressing my entire body weight on her. “Jungkook, no. You said no. This isn’t you.”

“Oh, but what if it is?” She stops squirming and my eyes widen like I’ve gone insane, glad to have her attention. “What if this dark, twisted, horny part of me is who I am? What if I want to ravage you and my rut is simply pushing me to finally not hold back on loving you?”

“You… love me?”

Somehow that question pulls me from the depths of lust for a split second. “I never stopped.”

There’s a silent period where we stare at each other. Sometimes I think we’d hold the world record for how long one can zone out, lost in a world of our own. But my needs resurface, clouding my mind with crazed lust. I’m corrupted by something I can’t control and no matter how hard I resist, she’ll be in the crossfire.

She must have noticed her small window of opportunity because she pushed me off with her inhumane strength. I bounce on the mattress when I land on my back as she scrambles to grab the chain off the floor. She makes a break for the door, but I block it, tackling her to the ground so I can feel her soft body against mine again. 

We tussle and roll around like animals, the chain flying across the floor during the scuffle. It’s a wild game of Capture The Flag, each of us diving for the coveted item. She’s on her stomach, crawling towards it until I take her ankles and drag her backward, cackling like a madman. And like in horror movies, she screams and squirms, kicking me until I let go. 

She drags her body forward, snatches the chain, flips around, and clamps her thighs around my head. Her strong muscles could probably break a watermelon, but I welcome the constriction.

“Ooh, yes, make it hurt,” I choke out, wheezing out a short laugh. Revulsion in her scowl, she cages me in tighter, and I pull back so she slides towards me. Using my remaining strength, I lift her so she’s now perched atop my shoulders, her sweet pussy right where I want it. I dart my tongue out to lick a stripe, the barrier of her leggings so thin that she yelps from the contact.

I’m on my knees and I move forward, pressing her back against the wall. It supports her weight and I pin her hands down, so she can’t sneak the chain on me. She’s shouting at me, but I only hum in return, so she can feel the vibrations of my lips close to her lower ones. 

“Jungkook, let me go!”

“I can already taste you… such arrogance to think you can handle me.”

I look up through her thighs, earning a sharp inhale from her. “Trust me… I’ve been holding back.”

She chants foreign words under her breath and my ears soon discover a sharp ringing noise, making my brain feel like it’s being shredded by a cheese grater. I hold my head with both hands, toppling over and releasing her as we both fall to the floor. When the cacophony subsides, I see she’s standing above me with the lamp. She’s ruthless as she smashes it against my head, the glass shards scattering everywhere. 

I lay on my stomach, dazed, and she put the chain on me hastily. It glows as it erases all forms of rage and lust, and my mind clears while my soul aligns. That’s when the painful sensations of my injuries I had ignored earlier hit me in full force. 

With impeccable timing, the door to our room swings open, and in comes Jin and Namjoon. Jin has his arms up in a fighting pose, his hands encasing two pink orbs prepared for attack. Namjoon has his crossbow gun pointed at me until [Y/N] waves him off with a dismissive gesture.

“You’re a bit late. Put it down.”

The orbs flicker out and Namjoon lowers his weapon, being the first to speak. “What happened?”

“Things got… rough. I put the chain on him. He’s fine now.”

“Easy for you to say,” I mutter. “Can someone please get the first aid kit? I’m bleeding again…”

Your Point of View

Jin’s making it a point to be hospitable. He dragged you around the lodge, indulging you in all the amenities the lodge offers. From paying for your food and drinks to complimentary snowboarding, it was almost like he was overcompensating. 

While he was gracefully swerving down the hill, you spent most of your time falling face-first into the snow, frustrated at the bulky clothes you had on. You called it quits and he finally yielded to your pleas.

Back at the lodge, you shed yourself of your multiple layers, feeling like an onion. At least now you can caramelize by the fireplace in the lobby while sipping on a piping-hot cup of cocoa. 

Jin makes his presence known, plopping himself onto the same futon where you sat with a refreshed “Ah, hot cocoa. Delicious!”

You roll your eyes when he holds his mug out, but you clink your cup against his anyway. “I hope you and Namjoon had your fun in the shower. That’s a nasty hickey.”

He coughs, adjusting his turtleneck to cover up said blemish. “Sorry. I didn’t know you would need me.”

“It’s fine,” you say, glancing around for any unwanted spectators. You whisper the next part. “I grabbed your spellbook and did it myself.”

He bears a proud smile, looking like he is about to deliver well-deserved praises when suddenly, his expression falls. Setting down his beverage, he seemed rather pale despite being near the fireplace. He looks up at the night sky and you follow his gaze. “Oh shit…”

You set down your drink too, paying no mind as it sloshes enough to spill over. “Jin… what’s wrong?”

“It’s a full moon…”

“Yeah. And?”

He shoots up like a rocket and sprints upstairs to his room. You follow at once, off-put by his erratic behavior. He’s found his spellbook on the bed where you left it, flipping through the pages so quickly, you thought they’d rip. Once he settles on the desired section, he shoves the book in your face. 

“Is this the spell you used?!”

You eye the page in its fancy script, seeing the same picture of a wolf howling under the moon. “Yes. It says Binding Chain at the top and I read it. It suppresses a male’s rut.”

“Did you see the fine print?”

“There’s a fine print?” you echo. Skimming the page, you squint at the very bottom to see an anecdote at the bottom marked with an asterisk. You read it out loud. “On the night of a full moon, the binding chain’s powers are reversed. Rather than suppressing a rut, the male’s urges will be amplified…”

The book shuts and you’re greeted by Jin’s stern look. It’s the same one he gave you that time you set his hair on fire by accident. “The closer it gets to midnight, the more unhinged Jungkook will be. This is why you should’ve asked me for help.”

“How was I supposed to know? He was in pain and you were bumping uglies with Namjoon!”

“Spells like this are tricky, especially for novices. We don’t even know if you did it right.”

“Gee, thanks for the bode of confidence.”

A concerned voice from the doorway calls out to you and Jin. “Whoa, whoa, what’s going on here?”

You both turn to see Namjoon in his winter gear, covered in snow like he was a dessert dusted with powdered sugar. Jin walks over and brushes some off his furry hat. “[Y/N] used the wrong spell for Jungkook. His rut is about to come back tenfold and it won’t be pretty.”

“It’s not my fault,” you argue. “If you and he weren’t fucking each other, this wouldn’t have happened!”

“Okay… this is horrible timing,” Namjoon says with a forced awkward laugh. Jin holds him by the shoulders.

“Honey… where’s Jungkook?”

“I… lost something important when we got here. Jungkook and I went out to look for it. I gave up, but he’s stubborn and is still out there.”

You look out the window and see the snowfall getting heavier, each flake larger and more frequent as it piles on the thick blanket that already covers the ground. Visibility was diminishing and you could barely see the outline of the moon in the sky. 

“I’m going to get him,” you say, determined. They look at you like you have three heads. “I’m the only one who can handle him on a night like this.”

“It’s dangerous. The snow is getting worse out there,” Namjoon warns.

“Yeah, and whose fault is it that he’s still out there? He may be immortal, but he has limits too.”

Namjoon recognizes your stubbornness; you share that with Jungkook. He pulls out his phone, hastily texts something, and sends it, which triggers a chime on your phone. 

“There’s a cabin out there that I use on my missions sometimes. You’ll find a cage in the basement that can hold Jungkook for the night. Food, water, clothes, sedatives, weapons—you name it.”

He offers you his crossbow gun, but you decline. “I can get through to him.”

“Are you sure?”

“No. But… It doesn’t feel right to hurt him. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay. Stay safe. We’ll come find you in the morning.”

Winter is the superior season, some would say. Because with the cold, you can layer clothes nonstop until you’re warm. Newsflash: that’s a lie. You’re freezing your ass off despite your best efforts to combat the frost, but Mother Nature couldn’t resist challenging your limits.  

The weather has taken a turn for the worse as snow swirls around you, making it difficult to see or hear anything. You trudge through it, the flame in your palm being the only source of light and heat as harsh gusts of wind threaten to extinguish it. 

Your magic was technically infinite, considering your necklace was a conductor for it. The jewelry siphons the magic from your hybrid body and allows you to use it like a witch would. However, like with most things, if you overdo it, it drains your energy and weakens its potency. 

When you reach the forest, the wind howls through the trees as your breath comes out in heavy puffs. Each step you take sinks deeper than the previous one until you’re knee-deep in snow. The ground is uneven and your steps slow because even the slightest misstep could be your last. With no one around for miles, this was not the way you wanted to go out. 

You don’t know how much time has passed, but the flame flickers until darkness remains. 

“No… no… please…” You wrap your arms around yourself, the biting cold unforgiving. A rustle in the distance alerts your fight-or-flight and you scan your surroundings, seeing a dark silhouette who you can only assume is… “Jungkook?”

Whoever it was burst into a sudden sprint in the opposite direction. Your body has a mind of its own, chasing him down without hesitation. You reach a clearing where his broad back faces you, the moon casting a soft glow behind his figure. He turns around, revealing his ruby red eyes with streaks of gold, which sparkle like luster dust in water. 

His face is unreadable until you risk a step forward. 

“Don’t come closer!” he barks, startling you to retract back. The hurt in your eyes breaks him, but he couldn’t bear to be a burden for you to shoulder. “I feel like I’m going crazy. You shouldn’t be here.”

“It’s the full moon. The body chain is making things worse. I can—”

“No!” He bares his teeth and bends his knees as if preparing to pounce. “You need to leave. Now!”

Falling onto all fours, he lets out a strangled groan, cursing like there was no tomorrow. His bones snap, pop out of place, and lengthen to create a new foundation for his werewolf form. It was like all his organs were set ablaze, the searing pain shooting throughout his body. You deny his request and take another step. 

“Stay… away!” he orders, his voice roughed and strained.

His head hangs low, clawing the snow beneath him. Though shapeshifting was a great distraction, doing so during a rut could have unpredictable circumstances. It was far too dangerous; he knew better but was desperate for relief. 

“Run…” he breathes, lifting his head. Your legs tremble from his unwavering, lethal gaze. “Run!!!” His canines peek through when he growls at you once more and you are hit with the severity of the situation. Fear strikes through you like a javelin and combined with your rush of adrenaline, you escape the premises. 

Everything is a blur as you zig-zag through the snow-capped trees in the forest. You don’t stop running until your lungs burn to the point where you’re about to vomit. Despite how numb your fingers are, you check your phone, looking up the location of the cabin. It’s not too far away and if you can manage to lure Jungkook there, he’ll be safe for the night.

An eerie howl startles you and you trek forward, looking over your shoulder every so often. It’s not until you come across a line of forestry, where there’s a gap in the middle of two trees. Upon closer inspection, you squint at the darkness that sits between them, and two glowy orbs greet you. 

A low snarl sends chills up your spine as two black paws emerge into the moonlight before their true form follows. You’re face to face with the big black wolf, its eyes glowing with feral intensity. The body chain’s magic allowed for the accessory to enlarge, accommodating Jungkook’s new size. 

“Jungkook…”

He doesn’t respond, almost like that name was foreign to him. All he does is crouch, and you start to regret not having a weapon. With a growl, he lunges at you, powerful muscles rippling under his fur. You barely dodge in time, but his claws graze your arm, ripping through my coat and drawing blood. 

Damn. I’m getting sloppy. I need blood.

You clutch onto the wound, hissing at him as your eyes shift to fiery gold. “Stop! Jungkook, it’s me!”

He circles you like a shark, instilling more fear before he pounces again. His heavy weight forces your body to topple backward, the snow cushioning your fall, and soon stained a vivid crimson. Jungkook had bitten your shoulder this time, his fangs sinking deep. 

Not even your blood-curdling scream dissuades him from prying his jaw off. You feel the prick of tears behind your eye, but you push through it, using your remaining good arm to punch him. The wolf is hurled about twenty feet away and you force yourself up.

“Okay… it’s clear you’re more beast than man right now…” you say, panting as more blood trickles onto the snow. The wolf shakes its head and slowly rises, its predatory gaze stripping you of your fortitude. 

Just then a deep rumble beneath your feet alerts you to look up, where the heart of the mountain was. The signs are there: the snowpack drifting, ominous cracks in the ground, and a thunderous roar as snow cascades down the landform.

“Shit…” you say, running in the opposite direction. “Come on! Chase me!”

Thankfully you don’t have to ask twice. Jungkook’s hot on your trail as the snow is on his. The ground continues to shake, the avalanche's roar deafening, drowning out all other sounds. Both your lives are at stake and you run to the cabin up ahead, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

As you reach the door, you swipe the keycard Namjoon lent you, the faint click giving you a moment of reprieve. You throw the door open at the same time Jungkook tackles you from behind. You stumble forward, his weight crushing you as he slashes your back with his sharp claws. 

Now you’re pissed.

You flip onto your back, clutching his paws while his jaw snaps towards your face, spit flying everywhere. 

“God, Jungkook! Get a grip!” You grunt as you exert your muscles, throwing him into the living room area. A wooden table is smashed into bits and the TV screen has a crack down the middle, but you don’t care. You kick the door shut just as the avalanche slams into the ground outside, its force shaking the cabin walls. 

The noise is overwhelming, but it distracts the beast long enough for you to search for the basement. The cabin’s small space makes it easy as one narrow door sits in the corner, so you try your luck. There’s a set of steep, wooden stairs and you descend quickly, seeing dim recess ceiling lights that cast a soft yellow glow. 

Unlike the cabin, the basement was underground and wide, with ample space for the cage Namjoon had promised. It’s in the furthest left corner with thick chains attached to the floor and ceiling. A workbench greets you once you reach the last step, filled with various weapons and tranquilizers you were all too familiar with.

Due to his hybrid nature, your best bet is to grab the syringe with vervain and wolfsbane. Reassurance is but a fleeting moment when Jungkook descends the stairs too, determined to finish you off. 

He bites your leg this time, and you jam the syringe into his neck simultaneously. Once the wolf loses consciousness, you stumble backward and hit your head on the edge of the workbench, drifting into darkness.

Jungkook’s Point of View

Something wet touches my fingers and it stirs me awake. My muscles are screaming, feeling like I have been hit by a semi-truck. I open my eyes, forcing myself to sit up and look at my hands. 

“Oh my god…”

Red is all I see. I’m covered in it. My lips taste it. But I don’t remember how it got there and that scares me. However, I look over to see [Y/N]’s unconscious body next to me. The blood is hers, pooling from her head and her body looks like a corpse from a crime scene. I’m terrified now, crawling over to her while my body shakes. 

“No… please.” 

I saw the gruesome claw marks on her arm, the nasty bites on her shoulder and leg, and her head wound that was still bleeding. I lift her head first, then her back, seeing the scratches there too. I don’t know what to do other than hold her close, listening for signs of life. It’s faint, but she’s breathing. 

“Who did this to you?” I breathe, but the question is stupid. I’m covered in evidence of my crimes, a sin with no solution. Her face looks sickly, so I bite my wrist and put it against her lips, forcing her to drink my blood for sustenance. 

I choke out a sob when I don’t see a difference.

“I’m so sorry…” I kiss the top of her head, praying to anyone who hears it, to bring her back to me. 

“Jungkook…”

I thought I was hearing things until she calls for me again. It’s a fucking miracle. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean… I didn’t mean to…”

“Shh… haven’t you heard of kissing a person’s boos-boos?” Her lips curl into a faint smile and I’m thrown for a loop. How can she speak so lightly about the horrors I’ve committed?

“You must have a concussion. I need to patch you up.”

“No. Kiss my wounds, silly. Just like you did to my head.”

I was too distraught to realize, but the blood on the rug we were on had vanished. Her hair no longer smells of iron either and realization dawns on me.

“Okay. Let me help you get out of your clothes first.”

It’s not a smooth process, but she handles it like a champ as I maneuver her coat, shirt, and tank top off. I pause every so often when she winces, making sure she’s comfortable before I move on. Her boots come off next and then her leggings, leaving her only in her undergarments. 

Lying her flat on her back, I get on top and kiss her shoulder area first. It’s a magical sight watching the wound seal itself as new skin regenerates while the blood evaporates. She coos at the relief, giving me a warm smile. 

“That feels nice.”

I head for her arm next, giving it several smooches to cover the claw marks. Each one repairs itself the same way. I lean back on my knees, holding her leg up until it reaches my lips and I leave another kiss there. Her eyes shimmer in excitement as do mine when the bite heals. 

“Can you turn around for me?” I ask. She gets on all fours, exposing her back to me. It was the nastiest injury yet, the laceration deep and red. I don’t care and kiss every inch of her skin until it goes away, noticing how she shivers each time. 

Once she’s fully healed, I see a cage in the corner and eye the chains inside. I get up and head there, frantically trying to get the cuffs on. She follows me and I curse at my shaky hands for being too slow. 

“What are you doing now?” she asks as if it’s not obvious.

“Damn it all, why can’t I get this on?!” She places her hands on mine, steadying them until they stop trembling. “[Y/N], please. I need to be chained up. It’s dangerous for you to be here, I almost killed you!”

“But you didn’t. I’m fine. I knew the risks.”

“Why didn’t you beat me senseless? I deserved it.”

She shakes her head, still able to give me a soft smile as if I didn’t try to maul her to death however long ago. “Because your rut… it’s not easy to deal with. And I couldn’t stand the thought of hurting you. Besides, I messed up on the spell.”

She points to the body chain on me. “On a full moon, it amplifies your rut. Not suppress it.”

I drop the cuffs and grab the body chain instead, ready to yank it off when she snatches my wrists. 

“Don’t,” she orders. “I want it on.”

My eyes widen. “This thing almost got you killed.”

“It’s hot on you.”

“Are you okay? Is your head fully healed? Why are you—”

She pecks me on the lips to shut me up. It’s cute, sweet, and simple. Sometimes I wish we were simple. 

“Jungkook… ever since I saw you at the wedding, I haven’t been able to heal properly,” she confesses. 

My hands drop to my sides. “What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wasn’t sure. But whenever I got a cut, it healed but not as fast as it usually did. And I thought about when I got hurt at the wedding, how you kissed my hand, and how fast it healed then. This has never happened to me before, but I realized… I can’t be without you.”

She caresses the side of my face and I shiver at her gentle touch, placing a chaste kiss on her palm. “No… you were right to leave. I’m dangerous.”

A finger comes up to my lips. “Shh… our fates are entwined whether you like it or not, you stupid bastard,” I can’t help but chuckle and she giggles. It lights up my world. “When you said you never stopped loving me back at the lodge… were you serious?”

“As a heart attack,” Her expression is teetering between fondness and confusion. “Sorry, that’s not romantic, huh?”

“It is to me. I love you too.”

Her confession triggers something in me. It's a carnal, animalistic need and I realize my rut is surging back with renewed intensity. 

“My love, I need you to make a choice,” I say with labored breathing. Sweat coats my hair, matting it to my forehead. My body feels like I’m being incinerated inside out. “I want you permanently. Not temporarily. Body and soul. Your devotion. If you stay…”

“I’ll stay. I promise,” she says without a trace of hesitation. But I can’t help but be reminded of the past.

“How do I know you won’t leave again?”

She ponders her answer but then says, “Because when I’m not focused on my future, I’m focused on ours.” 

It brings me immense joy, but my lust drowns it out. 

“Okay. We’re going to need a safe word. Or you need to promise you’ll defend yourself against me by any means if it becomes too much.”

“Jungkook—”

“I mean it. Because everything I said at the lodge was true. Everything.”

She wets her lips at the memory, which tempts me with depravity. “Are you okay if I’m still infertile?”

“I never minded it. Because I’m going to fuck you like I’m gonna breed you anyway.” 

She nods. “... Red.”

“Red,” I repeat and then I’m all over her.

Your Point of View

Jungkook lunges at you, his movements a blur of desperate need. You’re pressed against the iron bars of the cage as he kisses you like he’ll devour you whole. His hands roam your body to tear off your bra and panties, and you gasp, but he swallows it by kissing you deeper.

His hands are greedy, kneading your breasts in circular motions. He twists one of your nipples with his forefinger and thumb, the sensation borderlining pain and pleasure, but you succumb to it. Especially when he stops kissing you to lower himself, sucking on your other nipple. He doesn’t hold back and tugs on it between his teeth, earning a mewl from you. 

When he pulls back, he releases it with an audible pop before giving the other one the same treatment. Your hands run through his hair, gripping hard enough to make him moan with hunger. He pushes your breasts together, so he’s able to suck both nipples simultaneously. The sight enraptures you, and you swear he’s the most attractive man alive. 

“I can’t wait, I need you now. I need you many… many times tonight,” he says after he’s left several purple constellations in his wake. You’re turned around, holding onto the bars for support as his bicep slithers around your neck. His lips find purchase on the shell of your ear. “God, I want to destroy you.”

He slips his thick cock in between your thighs, feeling the copious amount of slickness between your folds. He thrusts back and forth and you rock your hips in tandem, appreciating his restraint. Each time his tip brushes against your clit, you moan to the ceiling while he groans against your neck. 

You’re sensitive, on the brink of an orgasm, but Jungkook comes first. White spurts of cum spill out from his tip, and he shudders when you use your hand to coax out more. 

“Fuck, I can’t hold on anymore. I’d do more to prep you, but I can’t wait. I’m sorry.” 

Despite coming already, Jungkook was still fully erect. You swore he might’ve even gained an inch. He was deliciously massive, blessed in both girth and length. 

“It’s okay. I can take it,” you assure. 

“If it’s too much?”

“I say red.”

Jungkook holds onto your hips and pulls you back, your body now parallel to the floor at a ninety-degree angle. You arch your back and stick your ass out for him, even going far as to shake your peach to tantalize him. Without needing to guide it, he slams his dick into you with such violence that it leaves you winded. 

He wastes no time thrusting, his pace desperate, rushed, and greedy to satisfy an insatiable hunger. You’re holding onto the bars for dear life as he fucks you like it’s his last day on Earth. There’s a burn that comes with not having time to adjust to his inhumane size, but you endure. Lust covers a world of hurt and the stretch ignites a fervor. 

The basement is filled with sounds of skin slapping against skin and unabashed moaning. Jungkook grips your hips so tight, they bruise. He smacks your ass multiple times, each sting resulting in a tighter clench from your soaking pussy, which drives him wild.  You love how he stretches you out, how he’s using you like a dumb fucktoy for his cravings. You want to please him because it pleases you. 

Without warning, he pistons into you faster, and you can barely see straight. His last thrust is sharp and calculated, a rough grunt escaping him as he empties himself into you. Your legs are trembling when he pulls out, admiring how his cum oozes out of you. 

Sliding down to the ground, you rest your back against the cage and close your eyes to catch a break. However, Jungkook smacks your cheeks a couple of times to get your attention. He’s erect again, no surprise. You swear with each orgasm, he’s getting bigger. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. 

“Yes.”

“Good girl.”

He places a hand on your head, guiding your lips to his throbbing cock. It’s coated in shared body fluids, but you open your mouth like an automated response until he slides himself in. You gag when he hits the back of your throat and he pulls out, but not all the way. You have to mentally prepare yourself for what comes next as he grabs ahold of both sides of your head, fucking your face as he pleases. 

You’re choking and saliva dribbles down to your breasts, your eyes sting with tears, but he keeps going and you take the abuse. He doesn’t hold your head lovingly. Rather, his hand cages you in, guiding you however he sees fit. Your jaw is sore, but that’s a small price to pay when you have the most gorgeous man throwing his head back in bliss because of you. 

Once his hips stutter and he comes again, you swallow the slightly bitter fluid and he releases you.

“Get up.”

You’re a bit dizzy, so he helps you to your feet. You see him squat and bring your legs atop his shoulders. In one swift motion, he stands with you perched atop and you squeal, holding his head in fear of falling. 

“Jungkook!”

“Hold onto the cage.”

You don’t question him and do just that, thinking about how this was the same way you took down your opponent back at the farm. However, the only danger here was Jungkook having you right where he wanted you.

He sticks his tongue out and begins lapping up your juices from earlier. You’re unable to process being suspended in the air while getting eaten out at the same time. It’s thrilling, and you almost sob when he invades your walls and tongue-fucks you. The slurping noises that leave him are obscene. It’s as if you were his last meal, which only coaxes out more arousal. It’s too much when your orgasm nears, but he grabs your ass tighter and everything snaps.

You’re screaming his name, rolling your eyes in the back of your head. Your ears ring, your toes curl, and you shut your eyes to ride the waves of bliss. You don’t even realize when you’re back on the ground because it feels like you’re not even on the same planet anymore. 

And suddenly you’re in the air again. Jungkook grabs the underside of your thighs and lifts you, your legs perched around his waist and your hands around his neck. He uses one hand to guide his tip to your entrance, and your breath hitches. 

“We’re not done yet.”

“I never want you to be. Use me.”

He sinks you onto his cock, bouncing you like a rag doll. You hold each other close, staring intensely into each other’s eyes. Everything burns inside Jungkook’s body. His thighs, his arms, his heart—but that pain fuels him to fuck you harder. You kiss him first this time, inserting your tongue and sliding it against his. It’s sloppy but erotic, and he only ups his speed. 

He doesn’t last long and comes again, but you wait until he decides to put you down. You’re on your back now and he places a sweet kiss on your forehead.

“God, I wanna fill you up again. Breed you until you’re exhausted.”

He has hold of your ankles, bringing them up high until your knees hug your chest as he inserts himself again. You can see his fat cock going in and out of you, his cock creamy and white from your slick. Your tummy bulges with each thrust, but the nightmarish visual is, somehow, incredibly sexy. He makes you feel full, yet you can’t seem to get enough. 

“Fuck, how are you still going?” you whimper. He chuckles like he’s flattered, lowering your legs so he can lay flat on top, chest to chest. You’re both sweaty and reek of sex, but it feels right. 

“Because you’re my soulmate. I’m going to ravish you.” 

Hours pass. He’s more beast than man at this point, almost unrecognizable. This wasn’t making love. He was determined to fuck your brains out. 

Every position imaginable, no part of your body went unexplored. If you were a country, he was a sergeant invading every part of you. You’re bruised and full of bloody scratches, but so was he. 

Whenever you were nearing the possibility of passing out, he found a way to give you a break. Whether by humping your thighs again or using your hands, he didn’t care. You’re soaked in his cum, a sticky, filthy mess that he deemed beautiful. He took pride in his work like you were his canvas for a Jackson Pollock painting. 

His boundless energy inspired him to get creative, making use of the cage’s chains. He had you dangle from the ceiling as he fucked you from the front. From the back. In your ass. 

If he thought you were tight before, your ass was a whole other story. You’d never taken something so big. It took a while for you to relax and though lube was ideal, the copious amounts of cum he filled you with earlier worked fine. More than fine. Something about him shoving his two fingers in you to draw out his cum to finger your asshole felt lecherous. You swore you were going to tear in half, but when his tip brushed sweet spots you didn’t know existed, you came harder than the previous times.  

Now you are on all fours, his hand in your hair, locking you in the humiliating position. He penetrates deep inside, loving the way your ass jiggles every time your bodies meet. You’ve been reduced to a moaning mess, unable to think about anything but his cock. 

You’re saying “Yes, yes, yes!” but the words are slurred, reduced to pure nonsense, thanks to his brutal movements. His thrusts are merciless, repeatedly hitting you in that sweet spot with no signs of slowing down unless he changes positions. 

“Fuck, this is it,” he grunts. He carefully pulls out, lies on his side, and brings you close so you’re on your side too. Lifting your leg, he slides into you again and resumes penetration. This time when he comes, you can see your belly expand from how much he fills you up. His monstrous cock swells and you whine from the discomfort, feeling like you’re about to pop. 

“It hurts,” you cry. Jungkook cuddles you as his knot takes form, ensuring no cum spills out. 

“I know, love. It’ll be okay.” He litters your neck with kisses to distract you from the pain until you’re used to his new size. You’ve never felt so full and can’t believe you’re stuck like this for who knows how long. It’s a phony moment of reprieve, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Once the pain subsides, you lay there as he hugs you, feeling his chest on your back. He holds your hand, intertwining his fingers in yours. You take this chance to look at his tattoos, noticing one stand out in particular. 

“What’s this?” you ask.

You’re pointing to a tattoo of a lake with mountains that have a full moon situated between them on his forearm.

“Oh, that? It’s where I first fell for Namjoon when he sparred with me.” His playful lilt makes you pout.

“Hey…” 

Jungkook kisses your shoulder and grins. “That’s where I first fell for you, silly. And where I fell for you again the night of the wedding. I contemplated getting rid of it, but… I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

“Aw…” A question pops into your mind that you’ve been dying to ask. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Why did you have vervain on you that day? Why carry the burden of knowing?”

He hums like he was expecting that question. “Because I know you too well and maybe… I wanted to keep that pain because it was my last link to you. I couldn’t give that up.” He turns your face so you’ll look up at him. “I love you, [Y/N].”

Saying those three words back again didn’t feel like enough. He was your one and you wanted to spend eternity with him.

“Mark me. Make me yours for good.”

His doe eyes form an OJO face, which earns a laugh from you. Despite all that’s happened, this manages to surprise him. 

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

He nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck, and you allow him to mark you as his. 

The next morning you and Jungkook are cleaned up, cuddling by the fireplace in the living room area. 

“Why is there a saxophone over there?” you ask, pointing to the random instrument near the door.

“You know what… I’m not sure.” Jungkook gets up, walks over to it, and picks it up. The face he makes while examining it is endearing, but you’re curious when he reaches his hand in the bell of the instrument. “I feel something.”

He pulls out something small, but you recognize the diamond instantly. “Is that a wedding ring?”

His face morphs into panic. “It’s not for you,” he blurts. You giggle and approach him, swiping the ring. 

“I know that, silly. You wouldn’t propose to me here.”

He visibly relaxes, rubbing the back of his nape, cheeks flushed. “It’s Namjoon’s.”

“Oh! Is this what he asked you to help him find? Is he going to propose to Jin? How sweet!”

A strange hissing noise distracts you two, and you turn your attention to the window. The snow from the avalanche is melting rapidly and soon, the door opens, revealing the couple you were just talking about.

“We’re here!” Jin shouts with his arms out in a ta-da position. 

“Again… you’re a little late,” you tease. Namjoon strides in, taking a look at the damage you two inflicted in the small space. 

“Geez… what did you two do?”

“What didn’t we do?” Jungkook says, giving you a wink. You can only laugh as you playfully hit his shoulder. 

The clothes the cabin had were a size too big on you, so they drooped on your small frame. Namjoon and Jin are quick to notice the bite mark on your exposed shoulder and how it solidified into something akin to a tattoo.

“Oh… Oh,” Jin says, realization hitting him as his ears turn red. “Congratulations!”

“Well, we should congratulate you too,” Jungkook says, giving Namjoon a pointed look. The man is confused at first, but then nods once he feels you slip the metal item into his palm. He’s ecstatic and immediately grabs the saxophone. You and Jungkook grin while his rather awkward proposal plays out, with Jin mostly unaffected and choosing to criticize his partner’s clothing choices instead.

“Hey! I practiced hard for you and you only talk about my clothes?!” Namjoon says, but the smile he wears lets you know he’s not hurt. Jin laughs and hugs him.

“I’m touched!”

Namjoon finally gets down on one knee and pops the question. “Will you marry me then?”

Now Jin’s entire face is flushed. “Oh my god… of course, my gentle giant.”

Jungkook and you give each other a knowing look, wondering when your turn will come next. He holds your hand and you lay your head on his shoulder. 

“That’ll be us someday,” he says.

“I know. But I’m not in a rush. I’m already yours.”

General A/N: Hello!!! Thank you for reading until the end. I appreciate reblogs and asks if you wanna share your thoughts. 💘

Moonstruck Readers A/N: So for those who are curious, I was going to include NamJin’s wedding where Taehyung shows up and he sees OC and JK together. And that could lead to a whole other spiral of feelings. ;) But I’m not promising to write it. This is their happy ending and OC and JK do get married eventually. 

Or if you’re like my friend who keeps saying TaeKook should both be with OC, well, that’s in another universe I guess. LOL!

[saphig-iawn]

Behind Frosted Glass

Inspired by a certain story, one of my dolls asked if she could have a Good Girl Button.

She was so excited by the way in which should be so easily rewritten. Little tweaks and changes, here and there.

But what really excited her was the idea that I could just record over memories. I could omit little things or construct something new.

She wanted so desperately to be a plaything, programmable by whoever plays with her.

So, after fractionating her pretty little mind until it was putty in my hand, I wove my ribbon between my fingers and into her.

It took her a while to come to after I counted her back up. She's a bit of a glutton for fractionation.

She was so happy to have gone so deep, but we didn't waste time in getting to play.

I asked her a simple question.

Would you be a good girl and touch your forehead for me?

There was a hesitation in her movement, but she obeyed and-

Night night doll!

Bye bye brain!

No matter my teasing, she remained limp in her chair, brain off, just a mindless empty doll.

I counted her up and she awoke with a wonderful smile on her face. I've had this doll for some time now but I recognise that smile. A small part of her was still in a little bit out of doubt, just a tiny piece of doubt, which was immediately quelled by her Good Girl Button working just as she had fantasised.

But then I asked her to hold the button.

Now her mind was like an open microphone, recording anything I told it.

I told her a very simple thing.

That she had a deep arousal that need tending but she just can't remember how to do it.

I counted her up and her hips bucked and thighs squeezed the moment I reached the end.

Her eyes clenched, she bit her bottom lip.

And then she began to twist her arms.

She knew she needed to feed that hunger between her legs but there was static on the line that the signals from her brain were trying to travel along.

Phantoms of muscle memory trying to reach out but being pushed back by the little spell.

Her intimate areas became uncharted territory and it was delightful to watch her try but wonderfully fail at pleasuring herself.

Her moans were delicious, equal parts frustration and pleasure.

While she was on my lap I also wove a lovely pleasure spell, that a snap of my fingers would send pleasure coursing through her.

So to tease and torture I would snap my fingers while she was trying to scratch that itch.

By the time we were done she was a puddle, barely able to string a word together, let alone sentences.

I cooed and coddled her, turning her into a soft ragdoll to ease away the stresses of the scene.

When her mind finally returned to her, she said something beautiful about the experience.

That it was like her memory was trapped behind frosted glass, amorphous and vague, but tantalisingly recognisable, like it was on the tip of her tongue.

I am going to have so much fun with these new spells.

[reriart]

While Your Lips Are Still Red

Summary: You suffer for what's happening in your life and you tried to put an end to it, but Astarion saved you.

Notes/TW: I wrote this fanfiction thinking about my Tav (female), but I wrote it gender-neutral so you can think about your OC (or you!) without any problems. The theme of suicide is the focus of this story, so if you are particularly sensitive to the theme and don't feel okay, please don't read it! I chose this topic because it is particularly dear and close to me. No one deserves to suffer and if you need it don't hesitate to contact a hotline. You are not alone!

There's also a bit of romance.

Please remember that English is not my native language.

Your sight grew darker and blurrier.

The bright stars in the sky, your only companions on nights when nightmares seemed to prevail, now seemed like many small, confused, and meaningless dots — the last, silent judges of your ruthless act.

You had decided to end everything: the story of the tadpoles, the absolute, the emperor... it was too much.

Your life had never been peaceful from the beginning, but the limit to how you could tolerate pain had become increasingly thin. You had tried every loophole possible, including considering joining Shadowheart in her crusade for Shar's honor; but just a few days before, you had convinced her to abandon the Lady of Loss and embrace her loving sister Selune. Because for her, your best friend, there was still hope, a glimmer of divine light ready to welcome her.

But not for you. Each fight had become more exhausting, each rescue mission more violent, soaked in innocent blood. The harpists, the tieflings. Children who would never play again, men and women who would never love again.

You should have rejoiced that you were still alive. To still be able to enjoy that great gift that life was. Yet now, cradled by the cold waters of the lake, not far from your sleeping companions, unaware of everything, your injured wrists let the red blood stain that crystalline liquid.

After making sure everyone was asleep (or in a trance, or on patrol, in Astarion's case), you had pulled your dagger from its sheath and used it on yourself right on the shore. You wanted to stab yourself and get it over with as quickly as possible, but you couldn't.

And now, at the mercy of the sweet waves, you waited for your moment. The moment when it would all end. You had managed to isolate the Emperor thanks to Gale, with the excuse of "I need a spell that silence everything for a few hours, or I won't even sleep tonight". A little suspicious, the wizard of Waterdeep finally granted your request. This way, none of your group would have the slightest signal from the tadpoles.

Your head felt lighter… it was like being drunk. A bitter smile spread across your face as your limbs grew numb, and your body grew colder and colder. The eyelids, however, became extremely heavy, as if there were a stone holding them down, and his heartbeat pounded in the eardrums like a war drum. The body became lighter and lighter but also heavier. The arms wanted only to go down, further down, towards the depths of the lake.

Your vision became almost completely blurred, your heartbeat infinitely slow: it was the end. One last breath and everything would have ended, if it hadn't been the rippling water and the cold hands (but warmer than your skin) that tore you away from the agonized embrace of death.

Thump-sounding words filled your head, but you didn't understand their meaning. A pale blob stood in front of you, squirming like a madman. A gasp came from your mouth as you recognized the figure. It was Astarion, visibly panicking. Perhaps thanks to the adrenaline of seeing him so agitated, you managed to understand his words.

"What the hell did you think?!" he almost screamed, lifting you out of the water to hold you. His gaze fell to your wrists which continued to bleed and you saw him swallow and clench his jaw. "I… one thing at a time. Now I have to think about getting you out of here, damn it." He rolled his eyes so as not to focus too much on your wounds, a temptation for him, especially after his failed hunt earlier. You didn't have the energy to reply, so you just let the elf pick you up, your eyelids too numb to allow you to look at him. You could only see his worried look, his milky white eyebrows furrowed.

Once you reached the shore, you felt Astarion spinning around. “If I take you to camp like this they'll think I bled you dry before you even let me explain,” he whispered. The companions were not within earshot, although relatively close, but it was normal for the vampire to operate in the shadows. You felt your body hit the ground and when you had enough strength to open your eyes, you noticed that he had found shelter in the forest. Your back was leaning against a large log, your legs stretched out on the damp ground.

“A…Astarion?” you whispered. "What…?"

“We'll leave the explanations for later, darling. Give me your wrists,” he ordered. Your tired eyes reflected fear. Did he want to bite you? Finish you there?

Noticing your hesitation, he took them both in his cold hands. "I do not want to hurt. Let me save you." His voice was calm, but his eyes hid a nervousness you had rarely seen. He swallowed, and bringing your wrists to his mouth, he licked them. His red eyes glowed like rubies and his breath trembled against your veins as a short, strangled moan escaped his throat. He seemed to struggle against himself, before placing your wrists on the ground, perhaps with a little too much force. You almost heard him growl as his jaw muscles clenched and his fingers trembled.

The wounds were gone. You blinked several times, lifting your arms with difficulty. It was as if they had never existed!

“I… thank you, Astarion. For saving me. Because of this. It must have been diff…”. Your head was spinning fast, so fast. You felt like the ground was disappearing from underneath your body and you almost fell to the side, if it weren't for the vampire, who grabbed you, preventing your head from hitting a stone.

“Do you want… me to hold you?” he asked with an apprehensive look, his voice a little more serious than usual. Maybe it was the lack of blood that made you see misleading things because he didn't look like Astarion at all. However, by now you didn't care about anything anymore, for all you knew he might as well be a shape-shifting monster ready to make a single morsel of you. You nodded your head and Astarion pulled you into his arms, resting your back against his chest.

"Better?" he asked. His breath tickled your neck.

“Mh hm” you replied. "Listen…"

You felt his arms become firmer around you.

"I am sorry." His voice was a whisper. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. Maybe all this wouldn't have happened."

You frowned, tilting your head slightly, which made it spin even more than before, confusing you to the point of making you feel drunk. "What…? What didn't you tell me...?”

The pale elf peered at the now distant black lake through the trunks of the forest. He didn't have the courage to meet your gaze.

“That I love you, my dear. Or rather, I told you that time as a joke, at the camp. Those words that I said to all the victims before taking them to Cazador." His gaze finally found its way to yours, glossy for the tears you were trying to hold back. Your heart, slow at first, began to thunder in your skull like a hammer, your breath became shorter and you tried to move away from him.

It wasn’t possible. It couldn't be. Was he taking advantage of that situation? Was he joking? Was it a demon, perhaps Raphael, ready to extort some contract from you?

"I do not believe you". Your voice trembled with fear and weakness, but even if you wanted to, you couldn't escape. You couldn't feel your legs anymore and the breath burned in your lungs. Even if you wanted to scream no one would have heard you.

Your panic didn't come from the fear of being eaten, but from the fact that Astarion had been the last bastion of salvation for you before you thought about harming yourself. You had feelings for him for a long time now, and your eyes often drifted over his slender frame as you tried to fall asleep in your bedroll as he drifted further into the darkness. When you allowed him to drink your blood, his bites and lips continued to torment you in the night, but far from unpleasant reasons. However, convinced that you were not reciprocated and considering his ambition for power and the constant flirting during missions even with bears, those words looked fake to you. You bit your lip, curling up as much as you could.

“No, no, don't be like that... look at me,” he said while lifting your chin with one hand. You didn't want to, you didn't want to accept the reality and feel terribly stupid for almost throwing your life away when the one you loved maybe actually reciprocated your feelings. When your eyes finally met, you saw him for what he truly was.

A fragile creature. His look was desperate, the mouth curved in an expression of infinite sadness. His other hand caressed your hair... a pleasant contact, which made you relax a little. "Listen to me. I know I don't have the easiest of temperament” he confessed, a bitter laugh, with his typical accent, changed his expression for a moment. “And I want you to know that everything you see of me is not… true. It's that bastard Cazador who turned me into a monster. But you made me feel something that in two hundred years, under his control, I had never felt.”

You rested your face in his hand, now cupping your cheek. You decided to trust. If it was a dream or a near-death hallucination, you wanted to live every minute of it.

"What?"

"Free. I feel free” he murmured, and his lips rested on yours in a sweet, delicate kiss. They were surprisingly soft and tasted vaguely of iron and mulberry, but that contact was enough to feel a new, powerful rush of adrenaline bringing you back to the present.

It was really happening. You were in his arms and he had saved you from certain death. And now he was kissing you in the sweetest way possible, both of his hands cupping your face as if you were in danger of breaking at any moment.

It seemed like an eternal, perfect kiss that you wanted to leave suspended in time. When you opened your eyes again, you found his. So vulnerable, so desperate. He ran a finger over your lip, before being grabbed and hugged like his life depended on it.

"Stay with me. Forever."

[damian-al-ghul-wayne]

Damian's birthday (one-shot)

★°•.: So, I decided to write something for Damian. Since his birthday is today (August 9th). This will have to be split up into multiple parts due to it overextending the limit. I also have not proofread this since it's 5am. So I apologize for any spelling errors.

It was late at night, and Damian had tried to fall asleep a couple of hours ago. Usually they would have been out on patrol, stopping criminals in his path, and serve justice just how his father had started teaching him when it had arrived. Tonight had been different. He'd come down with a fever, and Pennyworth had made sure that Damian stayed home tonight. He's snuck out multiple times before, but instead of fighting it, Damian accepted that he had to stay home anyways. Especially with his birthday in the morning. He laid in bed, refreshing the feed every other minute meanwhile his other family members left the house for patrol, making Damian alone with no one besides his animals. It had been the worst decision he had ever made. Ever since Damian arrived in gotham, he had always hated himself. He hated being alone despite always suggesting it should go off on its own during missions. There was no evil hate filled intent behind it. Damian had the idea that if they'd go off on their own, fight and take down as many criminals as it could, then he'd be worthy of the grace his Father and siblings granted him. It never worked. No matter what it did, he never felt fully accepted. There was always blood on his hands, and there was no way they'd be able to rid of it. How could someone such as him be so cruel, and gain back that honor he had lost? The answer was always that he couldn't.

Green restless eyes stared up at the ceiling. His phone laid on his chest as it buzzed every now and then, alerting him on messages he had been receiving. It wasn't enough to make him check just yet. There had been many other thoughts that were plaguing the young boy's mind. How old was he? supposedly turning fifteen, other though it never even felt like he had turned fourteen due to missing his thirteenth birthday. How could he be so old when a year of his vanished because he hadn't been good enough to stay alive? His Father revived him. He remembered every single detail about that day. He remembered crying in his father's arms as he was being told, "it's okay, I have you.", and just for a second, Damian had hope that be would've been able to redeem himself. He had another chance. Another chance to show that he wouldn't have to end up hell when he died. That this specific revival could wash away the blood that formed on his hands in it's mind.

He had been a fool to think that.

Why would he get a second chance when the people he murdered wouldn't be able to? Why would the blood wash from his hands when he had been revived multiple times only for it to stick. Why would this ever be different? How did he ever deserve any of the people that offered him comfort? How did he ever deserve the warm and gentle embrace that everyone he had ever loved gave him? It's because they didn't deserve it. Their Father could express otherwise. Even their Mother could, but he'd never listen.

A few more buzzes stole Damian from his thoughts. Curiosity finally got to him as it had sat up. Damian was surprised to see that it was not Jonathan who had been blowing his phone up. The tanned boy scanned over the messages from his father and mother. They'd been arguing. Online. Where anyone, including Damian, could see. What fools they must have been to be stupid enough to discuss such preposterous things in the general eye of media public? It watched the conversation continue for a while, until his father had made a certain comment expressing that Damian would never let him die at the age of 32. Which was bullshit. He had died multiple times before, yet nobody had a problem with that? All these scars it had all over his body were that exact reminder him dying. Alexander the Great was 32 when he had died, yet had been an amazing leader and practically ruled the world. How dare anyone tell him how it's story was going to go. It should've been his decision on how long he was going to live. Not anybody else's. Damian wasn't sure why this angered him. All his life he had taken abuse, that he believed to deserve, and had it's life controlled. His father promised it that it wouldn't happen anymore. This suggestion didn't sound anything like that promise. It set Damian off, though his ability to show emotion through text was unbearably bad. It went back and forth for a few messages, and then it stopped. No reply. No nothing. It had been a fool to trust his father's word of freedom. Then Jonathan messaged him.

It was weird. Damian hadn't felt this kind of emotion before. Jon swore the emotion it had been feeling was the emotion of love. What a bunch of idiotic logic. Damian couldn't feel love, moreso feel it for someone else. It was the first thing it been taught. Love was a sign of weakness that he hadn't need in his life. So how would it not be an act of weakness when he was with Jonathan. His sun. The person he swore was his bestfriend.

[petvampire]

i feel like waxplay and monty in whichever pairing or grouping or whatever is incredibly interesting (and ill admit i have been thinking about this for months already so when i saw it on the list i was like 👀)

bc when esther first transforms monty into a human one of the steps is that she pours candle wax into what i assume is his open chest cavity as part of the spell, so i imagine him exploring wax play could be a way for him to break through some of the remaining esther-related trauma he might have.

not sure if that angle is the vibe youre looking for but in any case, montwin (+ others? im not picky, you decide) and waxplay pleasee 😇

Um. Yes, thank you, I love this.

Also combining this with @iamafandomfreak ‘s GhostCrow blindfold + wax play request. <3

~

There are very few things Monty remembers about the actual process of being made human the first time. The mind tends to block such things out; he remembers the pain, the panic, but he can’t recall each and every step Esther took to rip his crow body to shreds and build him a new one. That’s a good thing, since if he’d been acutely aware of every part of the spell, he probably would have gone crazy.

It does mean that odd things will trigger flashes of memory, though. Things like the flicker of a candle flame, a trail of wax along the side of a taper making him flinch as his mind flashes back. Searing wax, poured into his open ribs, burning along the inside of his chest. He feels it again for a moment, too vividly.

Charles is the first one to notice his reaction. They’re out at some nice restaurant, he and the girls seated at the table, the lit candles in the center dragging his focus away from whatever Niko was animatedly talking about moments ago. He sucks in a sharp breath, and the ghost lays his hands on his shoulders, brows furrowed in concern. “You all right, mate?”

Monty just shakes his head.

He manages to pull himself back together enough to enjoy the evening, at least on the surface. That flash of memory lingers, though, and when they finally get back to the office, he’s quick to tuck himself into the comforting embrace Charles offers, burying his face against the other’s chest. It’s been a while since he’s gotten so spooked out of nowhere, and all of them are clearly worried.

He explains in as few words as he can, and the outpouring of sympathy from the others soothes his ruffled feathers. Charles runs a hand along his spine, Edwin’s fingers smooth through his hair, and Monty eases back from that momentary fear. By the end of the night, he’s more or less back to normal, ready to just put it behind him. He can just avoid candles if they’re going to freak him out, after all. It’s not like he’s really the candlelight type.

He should know better by now. There’s a thoughtful look in Edwin’s eyes as he bids the crow good night, the look he gets when he’s chewing over a problem, sorting out the best possible solution. Monty should remember that Edwin is not longer willing to let such things pass; they’re all trying to heal from the wounds their pasts have dealt them, and the ghost is quite good at coming up with… unorthodox ways to confront such memories.

So really, he should have known.

~

It’s a unique sort of exposure therapy, to be sure.

Monty is sprawled out naked on his back on Edwin’s bed, a little tense despite the fact that this is hardly unfamiliar. His eyes are covered by a silk blindfold, with the ghost’s reasoning being that his unpleasant memory was stirred by a sight last time. It makes sense, but the crow is still uneasy even without being able to see. He can smell the hint of smoke on the air, knows there are candles burning within reach.

“You sure you’re all right?” Charles’ voice is soft, close, and a little worried still. He agreed to this plan, just as Monty did, because a lot of the time Edwin is adept at figuring out how to break through ugly memories, to replace them with far more pleasant sensations. They both trust him, even if occasionally his genius seems like madness.

The crow nods, trying to convince himself that he can relax. He knows he’s safe with these two, knows Edwin and Charles would never hurt him. They’re not about to tear him apart and remake him, even if they could. “Yeah. Just… do it.” The longer he waits for the inevitable, the more nervous he’ll get, until nerves turn to fear, then to panic.

A hand runs along his chest, and Monty recognizes Edwin’s touch, tenses slightly under it. Despite that momentary flicker of fear that goes through him, the first drips of wax don’t hit the skin of his chest, don’t make him feel like his heart is being wrenched out into the open and coated in liquid agony. Instead, the wax is a dribble of heat along his right bicep, and he jumps, a little squeak of surprise escaping him.

He can’t help but laugh after a moment at his own foolishness, at the sound. It doesn’t even hurt, not really. It’s a weird sensation, but it’s not what he was expecting, not what he had built it up to be in his mind.

“Monty?” Edwin’s voice is careful, and the crow swallows his laughter, though he can’t keep the relieved smile off his lips.

“Fine, I’m… fine. Just not expecting it.” He can almost feel the ghost smirking above him, radiating a sense of faint smugness. Edwin does love to be right.

“I assume you’re better prepared now.” Another stream of wax is dripped along his hip, his thigh, and though Monty doesn’t jolt this time, he does shiver under the sensation of it. With the blindfold, he can relax fully into just feeling. It’s suddenly a lot less intimidating, a lot more freeing.

Charles gets in on the act, and between the two of them, Monty feels like he’s being turned into some kind of waxy art project. The heat on his skin builds and fades by turns, trails of wax drawn across his arms and legs, his stomach, still carefully avoiding his chest. He knows that won’t last forever; it would defeat the purpose of tackling this fear this way.

Still, he finds himself surprised when the wax finally does hit just above his heart, a shock of heat that makes him jerk. At the same time, a pair of warm lips descend on his, soothing him, distracting him. Edwin kisses him slowly, thoroughly, even as more of that wax is trailed in patterns over his chest. Under the pressure of that kiss, it’s hard to be afraid.

He has nothing to be afraid of. Cool fingertips trace the patterns of the wax on his skin, the touches familiar where the trails of heat along his flesh aren’t. He can relax into them, and know he’s purely, completely safe.

He feels his old, visceral fear coalescing in his heart into something he can let go, something he can be free of. Monty breathes in, and releases it, lets the memory fade.

It won’t completely erase his memories of Esther, of being torn apart, remade. But it’s a start.

[pruneunfair]

Hi okay- I’m a huge remarried empress fan, but I enjoy it seperate from tne fandom. That being said- you have so many great points.

1) I do believe the story may have changed, because this is supposed to be based off a web novel. Like an actual novel. Often times they will deviate from the novel to change the story. Take Who Made Me a Princess. The artist at the end of it did say they changed the story ending for it. So it’s very plausible.

2. SOUVESHU (look I’m a fan but I can never remember how to spell) DEFINETLY GROOMED RASHTA!! Though I don’t agree with her actions, I have 100% acknowledged and know she is deeply traumatized. And he most likely took advantage of that. He saw her as young and pure, something Navier was not. And he wanted to preserve that. Rashta is clearly traumatized, and her mental health is not healthy. It is easy to take advantage and manipulate sadly because she does not know the warnings. He groomed her and when she was finally trying to be more like someone she thought he wanted, Navier, he lashed out. No one gets she is constantly comparing herself!! She does not know how to love herself!! And that is the most damage. I wish they would pick up on that. I love Navier but she can be so oblivious to that due to her anger and betrayal at Soveshu. I think if Rashta had proper care and been trained,!- did Soveshu could just fucking communicate and not be a groomer, this could all have been avoided. Navier is also at fault for not see this red flag in him??? But she was so angry and maybe jealous and wanting to back stab I think it clouded her judgement. If she slowed down and actually had a conversation- it would be okay.

3) there is so much wasted potential in all the characters!! Is Navier is getting this magical stuff sorted why can’t she just acknowledge it and work for something with it? Use it to her advantage. I wanted to see her stand up to Heinrey for taking her mages. I wanted to see her stand up to Soveshu. I want to see her just fight for herself. But she doesn’t say much. She’s so strategic with everything and it’s like it wasted her potential. Why can’t she just speak out?? It does feel very much like she turned into a Mary Sue. I want to see more of her flaws. Like one we all think is pretty when is a flaw is that she has no want to speak out and is held back and refined! I think they are trying hard to point onto her upbringing and that she’s “higher” than everyone else. When like- yes she’s an empress. But there is so much more then that we should be able to read about!! We need more scenes of her having friends for peat sakes that isn’t gossiping or talking about men and other things. Where did the potential go??

I really wanna see how it ends and hope it turns into a better direction. I also need to read the book too.

TLDR: you make so many good points and I wanted to expand on it as a fan of the series who does acknowledge all these points.

1: I did read the novel out of curiosity since everyone was saying it was better then the manhwa. The manhwa was pretty loyal to the novel and while it was still really iffy with protagonist centered morality I felt it could get away with it more since it was in first person therfore it's possible Navier could be an unreliable narrator. Another difference I noticed is that while the manhwa felt actively malicious against Rashta and making jokes about her trauma when she cries or looks for attention, the novel is more complex about it and it feels more sympathetic then something to laugh at. The whole slavery being ignored and characters getting away with shitty behavior unfortunately still lasted but given how it was more complex with it's characters I think it was an unfortunate result of the author getting a little too carried away with the readers desires to see more fluff. Gotta say I don't hold as much animosity toward the webnovel but it's still not my favorite.

2: I'm really happy to see that I'm not the only one who thinks Rashta got groomed. Even if she's not a child, she's still mentally stunted and grooming can occur at any age since it is the desire to take someone who is easily influenced and molding them into whatever you desire. Honestly though I think it makes sense that Navier wouldn't immediately see any red flags from Sovieshu given that their childhood together was happy and geninune, it's common for victims in abusive relationships to not see who their abuser really is at first which really made Navier escaping even more satisfying.

3: on one hand Navier not being able to speak up makes sense since what is she really gonna do if the Emperor brings in a concubine without breaking royal protocol, on the other hand it is so OOC of her in later seasons when she is described as someone with witty comebacks and is no damsel in distress yet in season 2 and 3 she does absolutely nothing since Heinrey and her other friends do it all for her. They think this makes her really charismatic but that only ever works for villian characters who are mysterious and too classy to do the dirty work, when the protagonist does this over and over it gets boring and you wonder if she's really supposed to be the protagonist at all.

[cypherscript]

In Bad Taste Part 2

"Four feet?!" The entirety of the league at the meeting is up on their feet. "Why so fast?"

"Do you have any pictures of the orb or the bodies? Were they dead," Batman asks as he pulls up the location of the League's hideout via a satellite trying to gain visual of what she was talking about.

"All but one. Why did you send Hood? I thought he was on your no go list."

"Hood's been getting better, he was the most logical one to infiltrate the League; he was already in good graces with them when Talia used the pits to bring him back. Being on my no go list made it seem like he was no longer associated with me. I have visual, why did they have the orb out in the middle of the courtyard?"

"I have some footage of the scene, they appeared to have been trying to cast some kind of spell to link the orb with other locations or maybe to expand its radius of effect. It's not completed," Zatanna places a device into a port on the table and pictures of a large magic circle surrounds the larger orb. The next few pictures were of the corpses lined up, some of the faces looking familiar to Bruce.

"So Ras is gone then, that's the man right there."

"So it appears," Zatanna agrees, switching the screen to one of the orb, with it being so big now details not seen are clear.

Superman looks at the picture closely, "Is it just me or does that look like a a bunch of stars?"

Batman says nothing as he runs the image through multiple star charting programs, "You're correct, Superman. I'm getting multiple confirmations; Perseus-Pisces, Pisces-Cetus, Ursa Major, the Centaurus Cluster, The Milky Way, Sto-Oa, Rao. It keeps going, it shows to be every star in our sky as well."

"Rao," Superman asks, looking for the familiar star by its formation. "How old is this thing?"

"We should contact Hal and the lanterns to let them know. This could be one of theirs or maybe the Guardians know what it is?"

"I'm sending the message now," Batman types away at the keypad, "While we wait for them I'm going to check on Hood."

"We'll come with you," Diana says as Bruce moves the files to his personal device.

"Do as you wish. Zatanna bring in Constantine, we may need his help."

***

The Justice League have arrived at the compound just thirty minutes later and it is swarming with more assassins and goons. Talia's there giving orders, "Remember! Squad D, do not go near the artifact! Everyone else is fine to approach, I want this circle destroyed post haste!"

Batman had snuck his way into their camp and put Talia in a hold, "Why are you here, Talia?"

"Br-" Batman tightens his hold painfully, "Batman, I suppose you're here for Jason?"

"Where is he?!"

"He's safe, you don't want to see him right now. He's back to the way he was when I first found him. It's not a pretty sight."

"Fine, what's with the orb then? You didn't answer my question, I know your father is dead, why are you here?"

"Same reason you are I suppose, I'm putting a stop to father's plans for this artifact. He planned on linking it with every Lazarus Pit on the planet, he believed this to be the heart of the god who made the pits and wished to bring it back. To bad for him he didn't know what I now know; it's not just the Lazarus waters it's absorbing, it's also draining the energy from those who have died and come back via other means. It hasn't killed anyone yet, just makes them unable to move until they're removed from its radius."

Batman releases her and taps his comms, "Batman reporting in, stay away from the compound."

Superman's comms respond, "I heard, I was able to pull myself back before I couldn't move. Felt like the life of me was being drained. Zatanna and Constantine seem to be fine, Wonder Woman says it feels like hades is staring into her soul from here."

"It feels like it's looking at me," Shazam pipes in.

"Noted, fill them in on what's going on. We need some league members who haven't been resurrected before. Let Talia's men destroy the circle then we can figure out a way to get it off the planet and away from the pits."

"Well aren't you the lucky lot," Hal's voice comes in over their comms, "Calvary's here. I can get it off planet for you."

______________________________________________

And there we go, part 2 like I promised. Also you were close @victoria-has-no-secret but it's ALL of the people who've been resurrected not just the pits. mwahahaha Now to get the tag list out of the way. hope I'm doing this right... As I was typing this up, it seemed like I made the Orb sound like an SCP... hmm, thoughts for future works.

@mnemovoid @may-rbi @cugzarui @ekatkit @farmercale @blackroserelina @justwannabecat @dragonborne-writer @aikoiya @chrysanthemum9484

[rita-repulsa-ke]

jealousy

post-finale, set in the past. Death is a jealous lover, they are both exceedingly petty. They are doing their normal fighting and flirting thing, maybe a bit more fighting. This is probably PG-13.

Going with two headcanons, that Death can’t kill people directly and that Agatha and Death have a deal where Agatha kills for her to keep herself alive, thus the murders.

Also Agatha speaks incredibly anachronistically on purpose, because she should be able to.

In 1780, Agatha takes a woman to bed.

No one who matters, a younger woman she passes on the street, doubles back to compliment the sewing on her dress, and then to compliment the blush on her cheeks. She forces herself listening to the girl's concerns about her upcoming nuptials, plies her with beer and sympathy until finally she gets her bodice off and things proceed from there as they have for the centuries before and will for the centuries after.

Her plaything has run off home when the air currents in the room change and the scent of grave dirt fills the room. Agatha, lying naked on the bed, opens her eyes, her expression twisting to one of malevolent, contemptuous hatred, and looks up at Death.

"Oh," she says. "It's you."

"I want her," Rio says with no precursor, motioning in the vague direction of the door and presumably the girl who had recently exited through it.

"Sure," Agatha says, easing up to sitting, reaching for her clothes, aware of the way she is being stared at, hungry, possessive. "I don't mind if you have my sloppy seconds."

"Agatha," Rio complains, because they both know Agatha is being purposefully uncooperative. "I want her dead." She slices her knife lazily through the air, a slow cut across an invisible throat.

"Do it yourself then," Agatha says, then gasps in mock-shock. "Oh, but that's right, you can't! It isn't her time. That's too bad for you, I'm so sorry."

Rio rolls her eyes. "I'll let you skip the next tithe."

Agatha stops and considers that. It's a good offer. That's time she could use for things other than finding and killing a coven of witches, time for her own personal projects, of which she was many. And it would be easy, she wouldn't even have to watch. There's hair all over her pillow, one of those and the right spell and the woman will sicken and die by morning.

She should say yes. It's just that she's very, very petty.

"Nope. Don't feel like it. She wasn't that bad in bed, honestly. Better than you ever were," she says, hopping into her pants, still shirtless and aware of where Rio's eyes are.

Look all you want, she thinks, you'll never get to touch. It's a stupid, small, petty victory, how much Death wants and can't have her, but such little victories are some of the few joys left to her.

"You're so immature," Rio murmurs and Agatha snorts.

"I'm getting better. Remember when I went through my bad boy phase?"

Rio studies her, head tilted to one side, hip cocked, aggressive and deadly, but Agatha isn't worried. Death can't touch her. There are rules.

And then Rio has her down on the bed, straddling her, the knife against her abdomen and Agatha remembers the fine print of those rules.

Rio can't take her life, but there's nothing stopping her from causing Agatha pain. And that knife is positioned in a way that could cause quite a bit of pain.

"Reconsider," Rio says, looking down at her with unnerving adoration.

"Hey, when we're talking about immature, can we talk about your sudden desire to have me kill the first woman I've had in my bed since—" she stops what she might have said, self-corrects. "In thirty years?"

In answer, Rio trails her fingers over Agatha's neck, down to her collarbone, but no further. Agatha finds herself wishing she had gotten her shirt on before they'd ended up like this. Those warm fingers on her skin evoke memories she could do without.

"Mine," Rio says. "All mine. No one else touches you."

Agatha bursts into snorting laughter, quickly restrained by the blade indenting her skin. "Wow, this is incentive to turn into the biggest slut possible. Feel free to do your creepy lurking, though. Watch all you want." Her hand cups Rio's cheek and with great care, she levers herself up on her elbow. "Miss me, baby?"

"Yes," Rio says, turning lighting-quick, pressing a kiss to Agatha's palm. Agatha jerks her hand back, wipes it on the bed with the expression of someone who squashed a bug barehanded.

"Ew," she complains, and okay, maybe Rio is right and she is petty, but the flicker of real fury in Rio's eyes, behind the more obvious exasperation, is very rewarding.

Then the knife bites in, sends a trickle of blood down her stomach and she hisses in pain. "Do what I want," Rio singsongs. "Or take your medicine."

"How about option C?" Agatha snarls, magic slamming into Rio's chest, throwing her across the room. She scrambles up, snatches her shirt, but has to shield against the next attack before she can put it on. Black tendrils of magic try to find a way around her shields, crawling bits of craft probing for any weakness.

"Still so sloppy," she taunts.

"How so?" Rio asks, not bothering to hide her amusement at Agatha trying to pull a shirt on with one hand while she continues to cast with the other. "And when did you get so modest, anyway?"

"Honey, no one likes to be ogled by their ex," Agatha says. "As for how, you are using so much power for that little exploratory spell, if you didn't have literally endless limits, you'd burn out before—"

She stops abruptly, because this is starting to get fun. She's starting to smile, a wild, exhilarated smile. She's starting to feel the urge to giggle, to experiment with spells, to find out if she can remove the floor from under Rio before she notices and send her plummeting into the room below.

For one breath, one heartbeat, she's forgotten to grieve.

She drops her shields at the same time Rio launches a real attack. It won't kill her, but it will hurt.

That's all right. It should.

Then there is a shape in front of her, only very slightly a woman, the impression of arms spread wide and an all-encompassing, welcoming darkness, the space behind the world.

The spell hits, and then there is only Rio, staggering, holding her side and Agatha's instinct is to reach for her, catch her, offer comfort or more likely, a scolding about not being able to better redirect her own energy—

Instead, she crosses her arms over her chest and watches, impassive, unmoved.

Rio whirls on her, nostrils flared, eyes wide. "What was that—" she stops, looks at Agatha. Snorts without mirth. "Oooh. Ags, if you want it to hurt that badly, you only have to ask." The knife is back in her hand, as much a part of her as any of her limbs. Perhaps more so, who can say what real shape lies under her favored guise? "I've got better ways than magic." She pauses, then adds, softer, more careful, "And that could have really hurt you."

"Can't have your favorite killing machine injured, hmm?" Agatha purrs. "Who'd get you all those bodies you love so much?"

"You know that isn't why," Rio says, colder, unimpressed.

Agatha shrugs, indifferent, resummoning her magic. "So are we going to do this or—"

Rio doesn't answer. She looks away from Agatha, always a bad idea. "…ss me," she murmurs, syllables too soft to be properly made out.

"What was that?"

"Kiss me. And I'll let it go." She still can't make herself look at Agatha.

"Wow," Agatha says, then repeats. "Wooooow. This is a new low, even for you. I know you're obsessed with me," she tosses her hair, preens a little. "And who could blame you. Still, that is really pitiful."

Rio taps her knife against the air, her expression one of grim patience, as though Agatha is a trial she’s trying to will herself through. "You can't beat me."

Agatha snorts. "We'll see about that. But all right, Romeo. Let me skip the next tithe and I'll do it."

Rio nods at once, as easy as that.

Agatha swaggers toward her, places her hand on her former lover's cheek, shockingly warm against her palm. "Close your eyes," she whispers, her voice gone husky. "I'll make it good."

Rio trembles ever-so-slightly and obeys.

Agatha spins her free hand in the air, mouths a silent incantation and the floor drops out from Rio, sends her plummeting into the room below as Agatha cackles with delight and for just a moment, forgets to grieve.

if you haven’t read it, I recommend the mistake.

[14thgalerie]

25 — part 2

• pairing: james potter x reader

• now playing: it's a long way to happiness by alban claudin / visions of gideon by sufjan stevens

��� word count: 4.7k. 

• genre: angst

  — this didn't really come out how i wanted it to and i haven't proofread this, so excuse me if it's all a jumbled mess of words. but anyways here's the ending that my angsty brain came up with.

edit: changed the other woman’s name to a random one as it felt wrong to somewhat villainise Lily in this story because i love her so much

part 1 part 3/alt. ending

“Do you love her, James?”

He quite clearly remembers that morning, how could he not when it played like a movie on his mind, making his chest tighten uncomfortably? It was your typical Sunday morning, he had the day off from the Order after a tiring long week of endless missions. He was just sitting by the dining table, switching his eyes from the window and back to watching you as you fixed up your lunch. 

His eyes were set outside when he heard you ask, a tight hold suddenly capturing his throat in its grasp, making him unable to breathe. You didn’t sound upset, your voice still as soft as if you had just asked your husband how his work had been. But hearing his name…he knew different. You had been his wife for the past four years— ten since he first called you his. Even before you had never called him by that, always by Love or some other endearment you came up with.

He forced his eyes to catch your wavering eyes, unsure if he would be able to stand what he would see. Afraid that he would crumble beneath the ground if he saw what he always prayed he would never see in them, lest caused by him. 

You did well, hiding it from him. Though your eyes were trained upon his, they were blank, absentminded, as you played with the gold ring on your ring finger. The one that matched his, the one he shakingly placed promising forever four years ago, afraid to let it slip from his grasp and embarrass himself in front of you. The two sat in silence for what seemed like forever, before you dropped your head down to your chest. Allowing James to breathe a heavy exhale.

He was about to say something, to come up with whatever response his mouth could muster when you looked back up. Your cheeks glowed as you stared at him, tinted red, similar to the pair above. You were still the most beautiful sight even as tears lined your face, he could not say the same for himself.

“I understand. I’m fine.”

You offered him a smile, one that he couldn’t appreciate like the ones before because he knew it was all forced, not how he wanted it to be.

He knew you weren't fine, how could you be?

He had been painfully aware of this for several nights already, weeks even. How could he not when from the corner of his eyes, he sees you hesitatingly glance every time the phone rings? When you rush to wash your face in the washroom just by the living room and stay there for a minute or two. When he forgets to take a shower or spell the perfume away. 

How could he not when he feels the small rustle of the sheets as you move away from him ever so slightly until he wakes to find you almost about to fall from the bed, stains on your cheeks that he, himself, wipes away, pretending he doesn’t know the reason why. Trying to fool himself into believing that he would still have you in the end, refusing to accept that was the one thing you would never let pass.

He wonders often for how long you would entertain this play but never had he voiced it out because he was afraid. 

“You should go to her. I'll take care of all of it.”

“What are you going on about darling?” He finally spoke, though he still kept up that act of his, hoping that by some divine intervention, you were talking about something else. He remembered how the corners of your lips raised in faux amusement. He waited for you to respond. 

But you let him wait, had it been an hour since or had it only been seconds, he doesn’t know. You turned the gas stove off when you heard the whistle of the kettle. Leaning back on the counter table. You were quiet, so, so quiet, a stark contrast to how you normally were. He observed every minute movement, from the rise of your chest to the drumming of your fingers against your waist as you wrapped your arms around yourself.

He doesn’t understand. 

How could you appear so calm and collected? As if you weren’t telling him to choose the other, to leave you in your loneliness in this quaint, cosy house of yours. As if you hadn’t just told him that any day from now on, he would have to wait in apprehension for the papers.

“You know what I mean, love. Let’s not let this go on for any longer than it should be. With everything going on right now, I don’t want to add to the stress. Go to her, marry her even, nobody has an idea of what our tomorrow will be so I want you to spend it where you are happiest.”

He still remembers looking at you that day, only just then noting how fragile you had become. Your once so vibrant glow had diminished leaving you muted underneath one of the sweatshirts you’ve stolen from him. He was afraid that if he even hovered over your body, you would crumble and vanish from his sight.

“James.”

He didn’t realise that you moved from your place and now stood in front of him, staring down at him, still with that loving gaze of yours. He felt the soft, gentle glide of your fingers as it hovered over the curves of his face. He leaned and followed the movement, instinctively resting his face on your hands. Clutching your wrists in his, afraid that they would slip away to a place where he cannot reach.

Even now as he sits alone in the bed where he has spent his days, drowning in the consequences of his actions, he could still feel the ghost of your touch. The bed where he wallowed in grief after having followed your wish to leave but never to the other woman.

“I can’t.” He replies finally. “I won’t.”

“Why not?” You asked him with that patient tone of yours as you would whenever he broke down in tears to you.

“I belong here with you. Nowhere else.” He shakes his head.

“Then why does she call asking for you?” 

The raven-headed woman called just a few hours earlier, without his knowledge. She had gone straight to talking, expecting that the receiver had been your husband. You had dropped the call, unable to hear any more confirmation of your husband’s affair from the woman herself.

“I’m sorry.” He exhales, the words barely audible. Taking his arms and wrapped it around your body tightly, afraid that you would slip from him. Afraid that this would be the last he could hold you closely to him. 

As he tightly closed his eyes and burrowed his head against your stomach, he couldn’t help the flurry of emotions that waved over him. A memory for every night he found himself in the arms of another.

When you said yes to a date with him after countless teasing from his friends,

When you first said "I love you,"

When you first introduced him to your family,

When he proposed to you,

The day you married, and, of course, the beginning of it all,

When he rushed to save you when he was just a weak child.

“I-I’m sorry. I know it’s hard to believe, but it was all a mistake. I just…Don’t leave me alone please.”

Warm droplets escaped James' sunken eyes. “I’m sorry.” That was all he could do. Apologise. He couldn’t say he didn’t do it because that was a lie. Air could not enter his lungs as he felt suffocated by the amount of pain that drowned him. 

You leaned and hugged the hysterical man, rubbing his back in an attempt to comfort him despite the raging emotions that waved through you. Taking your hands, you pulled his head away from your body, much harder than it might have sounded as he was tight against you.

You stared at his red face for a second, his eyes were shut, before dipping your head and placing a kiss on his forehead. When he felt the soft flesh of your lips make contact on his skin, he couldn’t help the sobs that wracked over him. Feeling that no matter what he said now, this would be the last he would feel that same tenderness from the one he loves. The kiss lingered for a few moments, your thumb caressing his cheeks as you were both in the middle of your kitchen, the world outside, unaware of what was happening to the crazily in-love Potters.

“I love you.”

You spoke against his forehead, barely above a whisper but his ears still picked up the three words that he held so dearly. And forcibly, he felt his grip on you loosen as you pushed them away. The cold breeze from the open window seemed to mock him, that this warmth he craved would never protect him from the cold ever again.

The sight of you as you walked further and further away from him that night haunted him for days and weeks. For the rest of his days.

Amid the darkness lies James, his fingers gripping the sheets of the pillowcase against his face. He lies so still, anyone that would walk in would think the man has died in his sleep. There, James lies, taking deep breaths until his head whips around at the creak of the floorboard outside his room.

“Prongs? I saved you a plate from dinner on the table if you get hungry.” He hears Remus on the other side, washing away the light that briefly popped up in him.

“I gotta go on a mission, I’ll be gone for about two days. But Sirius and Frank will be free this week, I think. So, don’t miss me too much.”

James watches as Remus’ shadow lingers from the tiny space between the door and the floor. When he doesn’t respond, he sees the dark figure leave. He feels horrible, ignoring the boys. They had moved in to accompany him shortly after you had left, staying in the guest rooms that the both of you had prepared specifically for them to stay in. But he could not find it in him to even utter a reply or show any sign of life when he didn’t even feel alive.

When he hears the footsteps slowly fade, he rolls over to the side, staring at the tattered shirt that sits beside the pillow he had just dropped. 

He sat up, grabbing the two as he went. He pulls the shirt over the pillow before hugging it close to him. Shifting to sit comfortably on the edge of the bed, he could almost hear the steady beat of your heart and the low hum of an unfamiliar song that he always forgets the title of. It’s been a month already since that day. However, for him, it felt like years already, cliche as it may sound.

The house had been emptied of you, save for a few things that you’ve decided to leave behind like the shirt he’s pathetically hugging right now. His mind still reeling from the events that occurred, only after everything had he realised what just happened. Everything had seemed to play as if on slow-mo back then.

Now, time has slowed down and restrained all of his thoughts to only you. Trapping him in this endless void where only the painful hurt dominated every sensation in his body. Memories of the nights before that dreadful day flash before his eyes, leaving him in excruciating pain. That look of defeat in your eyes, he knew. He knew that even if he tried, even if he cried enough to fill the whole Pacific Ocean, even if he finally agreed to leave this world and live with you in peace by the countryside. You would always remember the damage he had done.

Your father had done the same to your mother, he remembers. You swore that if anyone ever would do the same to you, you would give them no second chance even if you loved them so deeply, you told James exactly that— he doesn’t know exactly why he still did it with that knowledge. But he knows that he’s given you tremendous pain that would forever be imprinted in your memories and the only way he could have fixed it was to suffer the same.

His rumination was interrupted by the heavy knocks that rained on the front door. He waited for someone in the house to answer the door, not in the mood to do it. For a minute, the knocks continued, until he got annoyed by the rattle of the door already and stood. 

“Alright, I’m coming! You don’t have to bash our door in, bloody hell!” He huffs, wondering where the others had gone. He thought only Remus had a mission that day.

Stomping down the stairs, he sighed in relief when he heard the incessant knocking finally stop. When he comes to the door, he finds nobody waiting and confusingly looks around before from the corner of his eyes, he sees a manila envelope on their porch. 

James feels a heavy weight block his throat, similar to the one he felt that Sunday morning. Without even picking it up, he already knew what kind of papers awaited him inside that envelope. Every part of him went on an agonising pause, his feet remaining rooted to the hardwood floors— paralyzed, unmoving. He knew that this day would somehow arrive, but he didn’t think that it would be this fast, nor throw him deeper into the darkness where the faint light slowly fades with every day.

He lets out a shaky exhale, before dropping to pick up the envelope. Absentmindedly ripping open the package as he sat down on the bench just beside the door. As he sees the white surface of the paper, he hesitates, not sure if he really should be doing this right now. Will he sign away your marriage without even a fight?

As he pulls them out, he finds a tiny folded paper fall on his lap, catching his attention. 

‘Hi Lo, 

Sorry this took quite a while, I had no idea the process would take that long. Well, to be honest, how would I know? Every documentation we had, you managed on your own. I really hate this type of thing, but oh well, I guess I had to learn somehow. Oh, blimey, I’m rambling again! Anyways, here’s everything that they told me to give you. Meetings regarding our properties and all will be arranged some day this week, but I’ve arranged to have it at our my house so less risk with the war still going on y’know. I’ll call you so let me know when you’re free.

Take care! 

Y/N Y/LN’

The paper crumbles under his trembling hands, falling once again to James’ lap as he pushes his palms against his eyes. 

Ten years later, he had ruined the dream he already had in his hands. 

“Darling?”

The sound made him cringe, it was the one word that he had been desperately wishing to hear but not with that annoying voice that scratched at his brain the wrong way. Only reminding him of his mistakes more, he thinks to himself, ‘How did that voice even appeal to me?’

“James?” It opens its mouth again, making him curl his fingers around his hair, clutching it in annoyance. “Are you alright?”

“Do I look alright to you?” He spits out.

The woman flinches with the harsh stare that he snaps at her, unexpecting that sort of treatment from the person who had willingly approached her then.

“I- No, not really.”

“So why then, are you asking such a stupid question?” He cuts her off before she can even let out a breath, “Hell, what are you even doing here?”

“You hadn’t called me back once, I’ve left you so many since the last time we met. I just got worried…” Jane hesitates, unsure if she should continue. “I also heard about what happened to you and Y/N.”

She waits for him to respond, to which he never grants.

“I heard she approved of us. I thought that maybe we could be official now?”

“No.”

“What?”

“I never wanted more from what we had, Bell.” Jane felt her heart crumble under her feet at how James went back to calling her by her last name. “Fucking hell, I don’t even know why I ever approached you then.”

If Jane thought that was the heartbreak she just felt then, this had just served numerous stabs into her beating heart.

“I don’t understand, you said that we would-“

“When did I ever say that?” He replies, still with that spiteful look in his eyes. “We did it then I left, that was it.”

“I-“

“I never loved anyone as I loved my wife. I have been stupid as a child, even now as I made the choice to hurt her. I made stupid decisions that as much as I didn’t want it to, hurt a lot of people. Right now, I know that this is hurting you but in all honesty, I could hardly care.”

Jane could only stare at him as the tears welled up in the corner of her eyes.

“I can’t find it in me to care about anything or anyone else after her. I loved her so much, I still do. I don’t think that will ever mellow in the years to come. I’m sorry that you became involved in this mess, I never wished this on you, you just happened to be there and-“

James lets out a shaky breath, only realising he had not taken one this whole time he laid out his heart to the woman he shared his fault with. 

“I hate myself.”

His eyes drift away from hers and towards the papers that now sit beside him.

“I hate how I’m this selfish bastard. I hate how even as my wife slowly breaks apart, she still puts me first and still makes the biggest decision because she wants me to be happy even though the one place I ever felt was with her.

I hate how you became involved, I just hope that you don’t blame yourself or anything because even if I say I don’t care for your feelings right now, I never blamed you. I made the decision to do this, I’m the only one to blame for the hurt I’ve caused my love.”

He pauses for a long while. Only the rustle of the leaves down the streets could be heard along with the harsh breeze of the wind.

“I’m sorry, Jane.”

James stands, turning in his heel to go back inside to wallow in his grief again.

“Mate, that’s enough.” Sirius could not believe that he would hear those words from his own mouth but with how his best friend has been, he could not let this continue. He attempts to take away the bottle that the bespectacled man stole from the kitchen. “You’re acting like a 16-year-old kid. Give that to me, I’m getting tired.”

Alcohol had become the only way for James to numb the pain that invaded him. It was the only remedy that his mind could muster to avoid the inevitable stress of the months to come. The burning feeling in his throat as the whiskey grazed down his throat felt like a thousand razor blades. 

“Well, the only person who could stop this child doesn’t want to do it anymore, so you’ve got no choice.” Sirius solemnly stares at the lazy, empty smile that his friend flashes at him. “Do you think she’ll be happy when she sees you like this? She’s just in the next room.”

James’ grip on the bottle tightens at the reminder of how close she is to him yet so far. A reminder of how he’s been dragging the process of signing the papers, still an inkling of hope in him that she would realise that he was truly sorry for his mistake.

“Pads..”

“Yes?”

“Do you think she’ll be happy?”

Sirius knew what he meant even as the question posed to be vague. He felt a punch in his gut for how fast the answer came to him, but he knew that the man needed to hear the words that bore no sake of protecting his feelings. He saw how your vibrant and colourful self withered into such a sad pathetic remembrance of how you once were. And how after you left James, slowly but progressively came back. 

It would never be the same as it was before, he knew that nothing ever brought you as much joy as James did. The two of you were undeniably destined for one another, a pair that you could never get tired of no matter how annoying they might get. But right now…

He also knew that for not only you but also James, to individually grow back to how you once were…

“Yes.”

It would have to go back to how it was in the beginning before you even knew the other existed.

“Thank you.” James knew that Sirius was right. Letting you go was only a small act for what pain and sacrifice he put you through for several weeks. 

“Hi.”

James hadn’t expected to see you as he escaped the festivities for a moment of silence. He hoped that the crashing gentle waves of the water and night light would be his only accompaniment but this was much better.

“Hey there, got tired of Sirius’ voice?” You joked, chuckling under your breath. In turn, James lets out an amused exhale before taking a seat beside you on the white sand.

“I think my ears are bleeding actually, can you check?” The sound of your laughter makes his heart tighten in a way that it hadn’t for the past three months. Now it felt somewhat nice, like he couldn’t get enough, and he was willing to drown himself in the cold waters if it meant he could hear it once more.

“Hmmm,” You check his ears, “You’re all good, Mr. Potter.”

You stare up at the sky. The night sky hangs overhead in hues of black and blue. You decide to keep your mouth shut, letting silence envelop the air surrounding the both of you. Keeping your eyes straightforward, flickering to the side every once in a while. After some time, you felt the feeling of being watched prickle on your skin. Only by moving your eyes, you catch the curly-haired eyes on you with a soft expression painted on his face. His eyes catch onto yours and hold them for a moment. 

You lean back on your arms, “It’s weird huh?”

“What is?”

“Moony and Pads finally getting married after so long.”

“Yeah, it feels nice to see how they ended up together in the end. God, I can’t even imagine how many times Moons denied his feelings. I was this close to ripping my hair off watching them wallow.” He reminisces

“Can’t believe how it only took that girl from the pub kissing Sirius for Remus to finally make a move.” You chuckle at the memory, “Now we’re here.”

James felt like the both of you were back to how you once were like everything that happened in the past three months was just a fever dream and you’re here to prove that. You kept on reminiscing about your memories with your two best friends. He remembered how Sirius almost passed out crying when they first saw Remus in the hospital wing. When the latter was the first to ask how Sirius was after he ran away from his house. The two of you laughed and giggled with every memory that came to mind.

At some point, a comfortable silence swept over you two. Only the sounds of the beach during the night and the chatter of the people inside the venue were heard until silence also ensued inside. His ears perked up, wondering why until he finally heard a slow song start to play and realised that the two must finally be having their dance.

“Can I ask you for something?” James breaks the silence, playing with the hem of his button-up polo. He continued with your nod, “Dance with me.”

He stands, extending his arms towards you. 

“One last dance, Mrs. Potter.”

You take his hands and press a gentle kiss to his knuckles, the cool metal of his gold ring grazing her cheeks as they cup her cheeks. James sucked in a shaky breath as you pressed your forehead against his, pulling it down to your level, breathing in your scent, locking it in his memory.

“Alright then, Mr. Potter.”

The next afternoon, arriving home after the lengthy travel from the wedding, did you only see the manila envelope that sits atop your clothes. It came with a small note written in familiar strokes that you would recognize even if your eyes were closed.

‘I’ve signed them already, I’ve postponed them for too long already. Thank you for letting me have that last dance tonight, darling. I’ll see you then.’

Time flew fast for James. One minute, he was still holding you in his arms as the grainy sand stuck to his feet, the next he was standing in front of 12 Grimmauld Place, minutes after Dumbledore had declared the end of your marriage. You had asked the man for a favour to help you process the lengthy and troublesome. Knowing that going to the court would give you the attraction that you would rather not have on the both of you now that you are all in hiding.

“James.” You call him. “Uhm, before you go, I just wanted to thank you… for letting me have this with no problem and also, of course, for letting me have the chance to love you and letting me experience the love that only James Potter can give.”

“Y/N.. I hardly think that was the greatest experience.” 

“No, it wasn’t. We wouldn’t be here if it was. But, I would be the greatest liar on the face of the earth if I deny the fact that you were the greatest love that anyone could ever have, annoying as you might have been at times,” She giggles. “But, I’ve never felt more secure and sure of someone as I had with you, and to be honest with you? I thought of giving you a chance, as much as it contradicted what I told you back when we first started dating.”

His breath hitches at the confession, his mind going into a haze, wondering if he pushed more, then you might have given him that chance.

“Why didn’t you?” He asks. 

“I somewhat did. I waited for you to explain, to tell me yourself. I thought to myself, ‘If he tells me, I might think about forgiving him’, but I would have given you a hard time. But you didn’t, so I scratched that thought.”

“Y/N…” He trails off, “You just broke my heart even more. But well it’s all done now. It’s all been settled and we’re officially back to being single. It feels weird, it’s like for so long, you’ve been there next to me, and now you won’t be.”

“It does. James…?” 

“Hmm?”

“If ever you find someone to love again, promise me that you won’t make the same mistake again.’

“If only you promised me to find someone who would love you just as I did, minus the thing of course.” He replies.

You nod, making him smile a little. Even if it wasn’t by his side, he would be content with the idea that you were happy, in love or not. For the last time, he comes close to you and presses a kiss on your forehead and down to your lips. He could taste the salty tears that cascaded on not only his cheeks but yours also. 

For the last time, you murmur against his lips. “I love you, Prongs, always and forever.”

James was 25 when the person he loved walked away from him and he could do nothing but smile in hopes that they would find happiness wherever and whatever they do. Breaking his last promise to you as he knew that…

Even as you’re millions of miles away from him or just on the next block, he would hold a piece of you in that hole in his heart everywhere he goes, and in everything he will do.

masterlist

[grasshopperdoingdogpaddle]

U think everyone but Omi remembers all of other timeline do the monks remember good Chase as their teacher but also as Omi's dad, Fung remember watching Chase raise Omi... do u think post season final they'd treat chase different?

I think everyone's memories are left varying degrees of very fuzzy from the time stuff, and it gets fuzzier very quickly. Like waking from a vivid dream and then having difficulty remembering the details after a few moments back in consciousness.

I like the way @gravity-what described it here.

They'll occasionally have little flashes of memory from the other timeline triggered in certain events, but otherwise, the life they're living now is the life they mostly remember.

Did what happen... Really just happen?

(Though the Heylin Memory Recall spell shows that memory magic exists, so if they wanted to dredge up those hazy memories again, they probably could find a way)

More than their memories, I'd say their emotions were probably thrown out of whack somewhat, too.

They'd feel around Chase, after experiencing a world where he really was a Xiaolin monk alongside them. They lived a whole life where he was an ally to them. Where he was their rock after they lost Master Fung, where he helped them rebuild a home after they lost the temple to Hannibal and Wuya.

That little wave when he returns and the bow to Master Fung's memorial.

But Chase himself hasn't changed sides in this timeline, so if there's any hesitation from the monks that he picks up on from any lingering feelings, Chase will be happy to take advantage of it.

This is the man who responded to a point-blank question about whether there was any goodness left in him by happily burning a village to prove a point and commenting "Hm... Nope, don't think so." And also the man who emptily pretended to be good for however long he was teaching Jermaine. Chase doesn't regret joining Heylin, and he still won't miss being in the Xiaolin temple, even if he has bits of memory.

If the memories linger strong enough for any of them to feel complicated about it, Chase would readily implement the exact mannerisms or words to make them pull a punch or hesitate or be thrown off. Any different treatment or feelings the monks have towards Chase are going to net Chase some wins and end up inadvertently ceding ground to him.

And like gravity-what mentioned in that ask, even his final words where he asked Omi to promise to never give up on trying to reach Chase in the future just as fervently as he tried to reach him in the past, are likely to be something Chase will use to his advantage. Omi ends the season feeling even closer to Chase, an even deeper connection, and now he has this vow to never stop trying for him. Their bond is inseverable by fate itself now, let alone anyone's words. And "the more time Omi spends with him the more time he has to convince Omi back to the Heylin side."

Raimundo would probably the the first to be able to shake off the complications and face Chase as he is again. Or at the very least, let his hatred of Chase fuel him past any conflictions so he's not thrown off his game as a crucial moment.

I can even imagine his little thing with Guan coming into play, and Guan having a talk with Rai or with all the monks about how, he knows how they feel, but you can't dwell in things that aren't real, whether they once were or not, and that Guan thinks they should learn to steel their hearts and lock away memories and emotions that aren't serving them or are getting in their way.

So paradoxically, if the monks are feeling conflicted from their lingering memories and feelings from the other timeline, I could see that scenario as leading them to get closer to Guan in the long run. Guan himself would never allude to having any memories of the other timeline whether he did or not, and Guan's only going to open up a limited amount when it comes to others again.

But he is the only other person they can relate to in this feeling of missing a Chase that Chase threw away. Help them with seeing someone for who he is and not who he pretends to be.

[tonberry-yoda]

Dewdrops - Asra

notes - Asra brainrot bad dudes. He is so fine and I have been wanting to kiss him all week, so here's a lil fic lol. I hope you enjoy and stay hydrated!! <33 @thearcanagame yall should hire me to write arcana stories haha jkjk... unless tee hee word count - 538 ~~BUY ME A KO-FI (COMMISIONS ARE OPEN)~~

You woke up delirious, blinking rapidly to get the bright sun out of your eyes. The air felt different than usual. Humid. Cold.

You felt that you were somewhere familiar, but there was also something strange about it.

A dream. Yeah, that was the best way to describe it.

You still couldn't see, so you tried to sit up and block your eyes from the brightness above you. When you sat up, you felt something fall from you, like a weight. But it sounded like you were under water.

What was going on?

You were finally able to see a little bit better after a couple more blinks and saw that you were definitely somewhere dream like. And you looked like you were just lying in a pond.

You tilted you head and tried to stand up, but your legs were much to weak for that.

The water you were in, you noticed, changed from shades of purple to blue and even looked like there was glitter swirling at the bottom.

But what shocked you the most is when you turned next to you to find Asra fast asleep in the pond. There were dewdrops in his hair and falling from his lips.

How the heck did you two end up here?

"Asra." You tried lightly shaking him to wake him up, but nothing. "Asra! Hey, wake up!"

You watched his white eyelashes flutter open until they shut again, probably from the brightness of the sun, if that even was the sun.

You blocked it nonetheless and cupped Asra's face, wiping the water away from the corners of his eyes. "Asra."

His eyes finally opened and he smiled when he saw you. As he sat up - holding you in his lap - water dripped from his clothes and his body.

There was a dewdrop on his lip that looked rather kissable...

"Where are we?" he asked sleepily, rubbing his eye.

"No clue. I thought you would've known, almighty Master Asra."

"Ew," he giggled. "Don't call me that. Just... let me get my bearings. I should be able to tell."

You got off of his lap and tucked his wet hair behind his ear while he looked around.

You both knew where you were. A sprit realm of some kind. But how you got there was beyond you.

"A spell..." Asra slowly began to remember. "Hm. Must've hit us hard."

"You don't think it was me, do you?" you asked frantically.

"No, I don't think so. And even if it was, I guess fate was telling us we needed a nap. Either way," he stood up and stretched, reaching his hand out to yours. "We'll figure it out along the way. Let's get going, yeah?"

You nodded and took his hand, letting him help you up. Your legs were still weak, but with Asra's help, you would be fine.

"You have water on your lips." you told him cheekily.

"Oh? Than why not help get it off." he smirked.

You pressed your lips to his, licking of the water lightly. He held you by the waist and pressed his chest to yours smiling in the kiss.

He didn't have the heart to tell you that you messed up a spell.

~~~~~

the arcana masterlist | pinned post

2023 @tonberry-yoda – do not repost or claim ANY of my work as your own! likes, reblogs, and comments are not only welcome, but appreciated

~~~~~

[ultra-raging-ghost]

I REACHED POST LIMIT SO HERES MY POST FROM 9:20 ONWARD

"Goodbye my three little ones, your father has to go"

"Im sorry chat, i guess ill just speak from the heart. the way i lost dapper and pomme i dont think i really.. had time to process, so losing him like this feels like losing all three of them at the same time"

Visiting bagis... poor zeno fucking died to a rooster LMAO i missed bagis place so fucking bad

searching for pepito.... where is my baby.... where is my little pepito, there pepito is

Bad doesnt really know what to do with himself, hes still sad but richas is like. Officially gone. Which is a crazy thing to process. I was having a hard time dealing with it but i think richas' final goodbye made me feel a lot better about it,it doesnt feel like theres a nail in the back of my brain now, im a little more content with this at least. Wont really be happy about it, but more content with it

We're gonna go leave a richas flower (blue orchid) at bagi's old base <3 just like how we left a cornflower at a place special to pomme.

hehehe agent 18/panks_ is in chat and theyre tormenting bad for fun

Offering pepito the opportunity to visit one last place, bad plans on coming back and visiting a couple final places sometime soon, not tonight but soon. Probably gonna end after pepito picks where to go

pepito cant think of anywhere, bads picking one more place to go

PEPITO TIME AT THE OFFICIAL DAPPER TIME SPOT??? LETS GOOOOO

Pepitos gonna be temporarily dapper while in the official dapper time spot <333

bads back, i got so comfortable in the old house that i forgot we have to leave. Just a wave of sadness washed over me, it feels like leaving home all over again, it feels like we should be able to walk into the old spawn from dappers train station and see pierre and pomme and etoiles again

pomme in chat... assuring bad she and dapper wont be leaving any time soon. Bad promises us he has some really fun stuff hes been working on he thinks we'll enjoy, this journey isnt over

while waiting for pepito we're reminiscing on when he had to triangulate the Dont have Your Gun thing that was playing that he couldnt find LMAO

currently visiting the old subway bad was building with dapper underground.... the new terrain generation generated a FULL end city RIGHT next to it!!!!

gonna visit bobby fields another day, thats another day issue, but dapper wanted to go see it with him lol

Bad found out Lullah and Richas were leaving yesterday, sounds like he didnt know chay was leaving till today

BOOOOOOOO BOOOOOO BOO IS HERE!!!! HELLO BOO!!!!!!

Pepitos playing around in the balloons Boo left <33

Bad: Yeah i remember when pomme and dapper came in one of these end cities and scared the muffins out of me Pomme: ?????? Pomme: bro you were dead Bad: I STILL REMEMBER.......

We're gonna go play Wordlos (or however you spell it) one last time before leaving the old spawn <3 gonna see if we can get it to work!!!

kinda works!!! Kinda!!! It mostly works!!!! gonna play!!!!!

"I am so proud of your spanish uncle bad!!! its a great advance to know how to explain something, its the most important thing"

We're looking at the paintings, this is it for the day. Richas logged off with bads statue painting so hes probably never gonna see that again LMAO "thats why we get screenshots"

Pepitos saying a little goodnight to the ghosties <33 pepitos gonna eat all of us up because we're so cute. "I see everything, too. EVERYTHIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGG". Pepitos telling us to rest, eat, and drink water, and do our favorite things. We deserve it, to remember not to be sad it ended but be happy it happened at all <3

Bads planning on streaming tomorrow, hes not 100% sure what we'll be doing but he isnt gonna let this crank his steam

Pepitos planning on getting on tomorrow! or whenever! pepito doesnt know when pepito gets on LMAO

Thats all for todays stream, ending at 10:15, goodnight bad, richas, pomme, and dapper <3

[emma-m-black]

Soul Mate Magic - Chapter Seven

Rupert Giles x OC (FanFiction) - MATURE 18+

A new magical transfer comes to Sunnydale High, and ends up discovering a magical connection with our favorite Watcher.

OC is 19+ (Not a Minor), Age Gap, Slow Burn-ish (with a little preview thrown in there during the Bandy Candy Episode).

This will be a multi chapter story I don't know how spicy it will get yet, but I'll rate it Mature just to be safe.

Author Master List

Read: Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six

Chapter Seven:

Rose leaned heavily against the wall next to the Library doors, feeling the cold seep into her back. The school was nearly deserted, and the silence only magnified the hollow ache in her chest. She glanced up at the clock that jutted out from the wall—three thirty-seven. Willow was over half an hour late. Each passing minute had felt like a lifetime, and Rose was beginning to feel like a ghost haunting these halls, waiting for something—anything—to pull her out of the numbness that clung to her.

She didn’t want to be here, especially not outside the Library. The place felt like it was suffocating her. The thought crossed her mind that maybe Willow was inside, but no, if she were, she would’ve come out by now. Or at least, Rose told herself that.

Pushing herself off the wall, she let out a shaky breath and, with leaden feet, entered the Library. The emptiness hit her immediately. No Willow. No one. Just the overwhelming quiet and the weight of everything that had happened.

She turned to leave, desperate to escape, when a soft clearing of the throat stopped her in her tracks.

“Ms. Murphy?” Giles’s voice was quieter than she remembered. The sound of it made her heart lurch painfully in her chest.

Rose didn’t turn around. “I’m not here to bother you. I was just looking for Willow. We were supposed to meet…” Her voice trailed off, brittle, like it might shatter at any moment.

“That’s… umm, alright. You’re more than welcome to wait for her if you’d like.” Giles offered, but his voice was strained, heavy with something unspoken.

Rose hesitated, and finally turned, bracing herself for what she might see. Giles stood near the entrance to his office, his glasses absent, his face etched with defeat. It broke her heart to see him like that, and she nearly crumbled right there.

“Really, it’s fine, Mr. Giles,” Rose whispered, barely able to speak past the tightness in her throat. “She’s probably just running late, so I’ll… I’ll just leave.”

But before she could take another step, Giles spoke again, his voice rough, like it pained him to say the words. “Actually, if you have a moment… I’d like to apologize. For this morning… and for everything else.”

Rose’s breath caught in her chest. She could feel her heart breaking all over again. She didn’t want to cry—not here, not in front of him—but the glassiness in her vision betrayed her.

She stayed rooted to the spot, unable to move, and Giles remained where he was, as if he too were afraid to step any closer.

“I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am,” Giles continued, his voice trembling slightly. “For putting you in that situation… for taking advantage of our friendship. Even though I know we were both under the influence of a spell, I still should have known better. I should have been better.”

Rose’s throat tightened painfully, and she swallowed hard, trying to keep herself together. “It wasn’t all on you, Mr. Giles.”

“I know,” he said, his voice breaking, “but I should’ve protected you. I… I took something from you, something you can never get back, and I’ll never forgive myself for that. I wasn’t the person you needed me to be.”

“Rupert, you can’t blame yourself,” she said, her voice barely a whisper, a desperate attempt to ease the ache in his words.

“Oh, but I do.” His voice was raw, filled with anguish that tore at her heart. “And if I ever see Ethan again, I will kill him for what he did to us—for taking away our autonomy, for making us into something we weren’t.”

Rose blinked rapidly, forcing away the tear that threatened to fall. “He knew you… he called you ‘Ripper,’” she whispered, trying to change the subject, to ease the weight of guilt pressing down on them both.

Giles’s face darkened. “Yes. From my past… before I joined the Council.”

He took a step forward but stopped himself, as if afraid to close the distance between them. “Rose, please… I need to know if you’re alright. I need to know that you’re okay.”

“I’m… I will be,” Rose whispered, her voice fragile. “But I’m more worried about you. Ethan said this guilt would eat you alive, and I don’t want that to happen. Please, Rupert… I don’t blame you, and I never will. Please, don’t let this destroy you.”

The silence that followed was thick with sorrow, both of them standing across from each other, bound by a shared sadness and shame. Rose felt the weight of his gaze, saw the way his shoulders sagged under the burden of his guilt.

“I should go find Willow,” Rose said softly, breaking the silence with a sigh that seemed to carry all the sadness in the world.

“Yes, of course,” Giles replied, his voice hoarse. “And when you do… could you thank her for me? She… she overheard our conversation this morning and rather pointedly put me in my place.”

“So… she set this up, didn’t she?” Rose managed a small, fragile smile, the first one in what felt like forever.

Giles chuckled, though the sound was more of a sad exhale than anything else. “It would seem so.”

“I hope you have a good night, Rupert,” Rose said softly, her heart aching as she looked at the man standing across from her.

“You as well, Rose,” he replied, though there was a sadness in his voice that made it clear neither of them would.

As Rose turned to leave, her hand resting on the door, she paused, glancing back one last time. “Oh, I almost forgot… Ethan said something. He said fate is a bitch. What do you think he meant by that?”

Giles rubbed the back of his neck, his brow furrowed in thought. “I’ve been wondering that myself.”

Rose hummed thoughtfully, giving him one last, bittersweet smile before stepping into the hallway. There, waiting with a knowing smile on her face, was Willow.

“We’re not going to talk about it,” Rose said, her voice thick with unspoken gratitude, “but… thank you, Willow.”

Willow shrugged with a sly grin. “I Don’t know what you’re talking about. Ready to get your study on?”

“Yeah, let’s get out of here,” Rose said as she stood next to her friend, grateful for her presence.

As they walked down the hall, Willow glanced at her sideways. “So… you’re a witch, huh?” Rose turned slowly, her eyes narrowing. “Don’t worry. I haven’t told anyone and I won’t. If Giles trusts you, then so do I.”

Rose raised an eyebrow. “You don’t think the others know?”

Willow shook her head with a playful grin. “Nope. But… maybe you could teach me some things? I’ve dabbled a bit, and… I’m kind of really into magic.”

“You know,” Rose said, her voice soft but teasing, “I could just make you forget you ever found out.”

Willow’s smile widened. “But you won’t, because now you have someone to talk to about it!”

Rose let out a soft, broken laugh, the first real one in what felt like days, as they walked side by side, leaving the weight of the Library behind them.

Chapter Eight