#destined to be in love and hate each other

[anixvl]

BITTER || Y.J

pairing: boxer!jungwon x detective!fem!reader

synopsis: Months after learning the truth of the real mastermind, you and Jungwon are left standing in the aftermath—scarred and unable to pretend that things will go back to what they once were. Just as you both begin to navigate your fragile connection, a new case arises—one that ties directly to your past. A series of brutal murders mimicking your late partner’s case resurface. The deeper you dig, the more it becomes clear: the original mastermind wasn’t working alone. Now, you are once again forced into each other’s lives, uncovering dark secrets while confronting the bitter unspoken emotions that still linger between you both. But trust isn’t easily rebuilt, and love doesn’t erase betrayal. (pt 2 of BITTERSWEET)

genre: Romance, LOTS OF ANGST, enemies-to-lovers-to-enemies trope, thriller, suspense

warnings: smut MDNI, oral f!receiving, d in p, lots of arguing/profanity, mentions of guns & blood, tears tears tears!

wc: 9k (under review)

a/n: hi!! there may be a pt 3, “sweet,” to finish off the series! but it’s still undecided, stay tuned <3

The rain fell in thin sheets, casting a silver haze over the city skyline. You tightened your grip on the steering wheel, your jaw clenched as you forced yourself to focus on the road ahead. The familiar weight of exhaustion pressed against your bones, but it wasn’t just from the late hours or the endless cases piling up on your desk.

It was him.

Jungwon sat in the passenger seat, silent. He hadn’t spoken in the last twenty minutes, not since you begrudgingly agreed to let him come with you. His presence filled the space between you like a loaded gun—dangerous, tense, and ready to explode at any moment.

you hated that he was here.

you hated that you still cared.

"We don’t have to talk, but you can at least stop pretending I don’t exist,” His voice was quieter than you expected, carrying none of the cocky arrogance he used to wear like armor.

You exhaled through your nose, your fingers tightening around the wheel, “I’m not pretending. I just have nothing to say to you."

Jungwon let out a soft laugh—bitter, edged with something unreadable, “That’s worse."

You didn’t respond.

Because what were you supposed to say?

That you haven’t stopped thinking about him in months since that day at your house?

That every time you closed your eyes, you could still feel the way his hands had held you, the way he had whispered your name like it meant something?

No. You wouldn’t give him that.

Not after what happened.

Not after shattering your heart.

The GPS beeped, signaling the destination. You turned off the ignition and reached for the case file in the back seat, ignoring the way Jungwon watched you. He was waiting for something—for a sign, a crack in your walls, anything to prove that you weren’t as indifferent as you pretended to be.

But you wouldn’t give him that, either.

you stepped out of the car, rain misting against your skin.

The warehouse loomed ahead, abandoned and rotting at the edges. The call had come in this morning—a body found inside, the method eerily similar to the one that had haunted you for the past year. Your partner’s murder.

Your stomach twisted.

Someone was playing with you.

And you weren’t sure you were ready to face it, but ready or not, you didn’t have much of a choice.

It all started on that day. The day at your house, when you first found out the sickening truth.

The tension in the room was suffocating. Seokjin sat behind his desk, his usual smirk absent, his sharp eyes locked onto you. The air between you was thick with months of bad blood, with every accusation you had ever thrown his way.

"You’ve got five minutes before I throw you out," Seokjin said coolly, swirling a glass of whiskey in his hand.

You pulled the flash drive from your pocket and tossed it onto the table.

"Play it."

Seokjin arched an eyebrow but picked up the drive, inserting it into his laptop. The moment your partner’s voice filled the air, his expression shifted—just slightly.

By the time the recording ended, Seokjin exhaled through his nose, closing his eyes briefly.

"He tried to tell you," he muttered.

Your jaw clenched, “I didn’t know."

Seokjin let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head, "No, you didn’t. Because you were too busy trying to kill me."

You didn’t react. He wasn’t wrong.

You had let your grief blind you. Let the pain make you reckless. And in doing so, you had been chasing the wrong enemy this entire time.

"I need your help," you admitted.

The words felt foreign on your tongue, but you forced them out, "I don’t know how deep this goes, but I know my partner died trying to bring it to light. And if they find out I know the truth, I’ll be next."

Seokjin leaned back in his chair, studying you. Then, after a long moment, he let out a slow sigh.

"So. The detective finally realizes she’s been hunting the wrong man."

You clenched your fists, “I don’t need a speech, Seokjin. I need to finish what my partner started. He was our friend. Help me take down the people who really did this."

A tense silence stretched between you both. Then, to your surprise, Seokjin chuckled.

"You’re lucky I don’t hold grudges, detective."

You arched an eyebrow, “That’s funny, considering you spent months trying to kill me and even locked me up."

Seokjin smirked, standing up, “Fair enough."

Then, his expression darkened, “But you’re right about one thing. Whoever’s behind this? They’re not just coming for you. They’ll come for me. They’ll come for Jungwon, too. Which means…" He extended a glass of alcohol for you to take, "We’re in this together."

You hesitated—but only for a moment. Then you grasped the glass from his hand, swallowing it down—sealing the deal.

Because this time, you knew exactly who the real enemy was.

And you weren’t going to stop till you were satisfied.

The warehouse smelled of rust and decay. The air was thick with something else, too—something heavier, something familiar.

You stepped inside, your boots barely making a sound against the cracked concrete. The body lay in the center of the room, partially covered with a tarp. Red pooled beneath it, dark and glistening, seeping into the floor like a stain that would never wash away.

Jungwon moved beside you, silent. He watched you carefully as you looked at the scene before you. He wanted to be there for you, despite your barriers. He wasn’t supposed to be here—you didn’t want him here—but somehow, he had a way of inserting himself into things you wanted to keep far, far away from him.

"Same MO?"His voice was steady, but you knew him well enough to hear the tension beneath it.

You crouched beside the body, your fingers ghosting over the cold edge of the tarp before you pulled it back. The sight sent ice through your veins.

A clean shot to the chest. A knife wound to the abdomen. The precision of it was deliberate, almost surgical.

Exactly like your partner.

your stomach twisted.

"This isn’t a coincidence," you muttered, "Someone’s sending a message."

Jungwon was quiet for a moment before he asked the question you didn’t want to answer, "You think it’s connected to his murder?"

You exhaled, standing, “I don’t think. I know.”

You turned to face him, and for the first time since you let him come with you, you let yourself meet his gaze fully. There was something in his eyes—something unreadable, a storm brewing beneath the surface.

It irked you how, despite everything, your body never failed to react to him. You hated how your heart skips a beat at the sight of him. Your shortness of breath near him. And the stupid, stupid, feeling of wanting his touch. You looked away.

"This isn’t over," you said, your voice steady.

Jungwon nodded, his jaw tight, “Then let’s end it."

The words should have been comforting. They weren’t.

Because ending it meant reopening wounds that had never fully healed. It meant severing ties that bounded you both together. And you weren’t sure either of you were ready for that.

The night was thick with silence as you walked back to the car, the dim light from the streetlamps flickering over the rain-slick pavement. Your steps were quick, purposeful, though your mind was miles away. Every instinct told you to push him away—push him far away—but there he was, walking beside you like nothing had changed.

And everything had changed.

Jungwon was supposed to be a ghost in your life, an ex you had buried with the pain and regret of your past. Yet, somehow, he kept finding his way back. Every time you thought you had moved on, every time you thought you could lock away the pieces of yourself you had given him, he tore through the walls again, leaving you wide open.

You tried not to look at him as you fumbled with the keys to the car.

"You don’t have to come with me," you said quietly, your voice betraying none of the turbulence inside you.

Jungwon didn't respond immediately, and for a moment, you thought he might listen, that maybe he was starting to understand the depth of your walls. But then he spoke, his voice softer than you expected.

"You know I’m not going anywhere."

The rain had finally stopped, leaving behind a heavy mist that clung to the streets, distorting the neon glow of the city like a mirage. You leaned against the hood of the car, staring at the warehouse in front of you.

Jungwon was beside you, his presence like an anchor—his silence louder than any words he could’ve spoken. He hadn’t said much since you got in the car. He wasn’t the same cocky, reckless fighter you had once known. He was different, quieter, broken in a way you couldn’t understand. And yet, here he was, once again dragged into your mess, whether he liked it or not.

"You can’t keep chasing this, Y/n," Jungwon said, suddenly closer, his voice firm, bordering on pleading, “Whatever this is, it’s going to end up destroying you."

“You think I don’t know that?" You turned to face him, your fists clenched by your sides.

“I don’t care if this is bigger than us. My partner died without receiving justice. The murderer is still out there.”

"And you think you can fix it? By yourself?" Jungwon’s tone was almost incredulous, but there was a quiet fear in his eyes now—a fear that you hadn’t seen before.

"I don’t need your help, Jungwon,” Your words were cold, sharp.

But they weren’t the truth. You did need him. You needed him more than you cared to admit.

Jungwon’s face hardened, and for a moment, it felt like you were standing on the edge of a precipice—one wrong move and everything would crumble. He stepped back, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as he stared at you with a mixture of frustration and something else.

Something you hadn’t seen in a while.

He was always putting effort in trying to gain your forgiveness. Always supportive, taking care of you, sweet gestures, affectionate phrases, he’s tried doing it all.

This was his breaking point.

"Fine," he said after a long pause, his voice low, “Do it on your own then."

But just as he turned to leave, something in you snapped. The frustration, the years of pain, the endless cycle of not being able to fix the past—it all came crashing down.

And suddenly, for a split second, you were the girl from months ago who was head over heels for Jungwon. Before the betrayal, before the lies, before the pain.

You grabbed him by the arm, spinning him back around.

"I need you, Jungwon,” Your voice broke slightly, but you refused to let it show.

"I need you to help me fix this. Because if you don’t, I’ll do it myself. And I don’t care what happens to me in the process,” your eyes glossed as tears begin to form.

You didn’t understand it yourself, you hated him being around but hate it worse when he’s away from you.

Deep down, you must’ve known, you’ve gotten to the point in which you can’t be without him. Not even if you wanted to.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Jungwon’s guard lowered. He looked at you—really looked at you—like he was seeing you for the first time. Your eyes were full of desperation, yes, but also something darker, something you’d buried deep inside for far too long.

Love.

"You’re not alone," he whispered, his voice quieter and softer now, filled with something that almost sounded like regret.

He took his hands out from his pockets, cupping your face tenderly. You instantly melt into his touch, feeling your anger almost wash away. He looked into your eyes, searching for the girl you once were.

Back when you loved him so wholeheartedly.

"I’ll help you. But you have to promise me one thing,” he said, drawing soft circle on your cheek with his thumb.

Your brows furrowed, "What?"

"Promise me you won’t destroy yourself in the process."

The words hung between you, heavy with meaning. For a moment, you were quiet, the weight of everything pressing down on your shoulders. You didn’t know how to answer—didn’t know if you could promise him that. But in the end, you nodded.

"Fine," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I’ll try."

Jungwon didn’t speak again, but his kiss on your forehead was all the confirmation you needed. You were in this together, whether you wanted it or not.

The morning after was nothing like you imagined. Inside your bedroom, the light through the blinds was dim, casting long shadows over the space. You stood by the window, staring out at nothing in particular, your mind far away, racing over the events that had brought you to this point.

Jungwon was still asleep, sprawled across the bed with his face to you. The sight of him, so vulnerable in sleep, made something twist inside of you. He had become a person you could barely recognize, and yet, something about the way he protected you—no matter how messy it got—still made you believe there was something worth saving.

But you couldn’t forget how you had gotten here. The anger. The betrayal. It all still felt raw.

You had been fighting this case alone for so long. And in the back of your mind, you knew—no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t do it without him. But that didn’t mean you would let your guard down. You couldn’t afford to.

When you turned to look at him again, Jungwon was shifting in his sleep, a low groan escaping his lips. You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to even approach him. You had so many questions, but none of them felt like they mattered. Not yet.

You walked over to the desk, grabbing the file that had caused everything to spiral. Your fingers skimmed the pages, still looking for something that could tie all the loose ends together. There was too much at stake. Too many pieces missing.

"You really can’t sleep, huh?"

His voice was rough, but it was familiar, and it made you freeze in place. You didn’t turn around immediately. Instead, you stood there, still clutching the file, wondering how to fix everything.

"You still thinking about last night?" he continued, his voice softer this time, like he knew exactly what you were feeling.

You finally turned around, meeting his gaze. His dark eyes were intense, but there was something unreadable in them. You couldn’t tell if he was angry, frustrated, or just tired.

"Yeah." The word came out sharper than you intended. "I need answers, Jungwon."

His gaze softened for a moment, and then his mouth twisted into a half-smile, “I know you do."

He sat up and opened his arms to you. The room felt smaller now, the space between you both charged with the tension that had been building ever since you decided to work together. He wasn’t who he used to be. But Neither were you. But in some ways, that was what made everything feel more real. You slowly made your way inside his arms. Your body instantly melted against him, feeling a soft, heavy, sigh escape your lips.

"You’re not gonna let it go, are you?" he asked quietly, holding you tightly, "You think I don’t see it in your eyes?"

You shook your head slowly, “I can’t. Not when I’m this close to finding out who did it."

He was silent for a long moment, and the only sound in the room was the hum of the air conditioner. You weren’t sure if he was contemplating something or just frustrated, but when he finally spoke again, it was with a weariness that didn’t match his usual bravado.

"You know, sometimes, there’s no closure."

The words hit you harder than you expected, and you could feel the sting in your chest. You knew that. You knew it better than anyone. But that didn’t mean you were willing to accept it.

"You’re wrong," you whispered, turning to face him, "I can’t just walk away from this. If I do, I’ll never be able to look at myself the same way again."

There was a long pause. Then you felt Jungwon tenderly caress the top of your head, gazing at you with such intensity. You could feel the weight of his touch, warm and familiar, and it made your heart race in a way you weren’t prepared for.

"I get it," he said, his voice gentle now. "But you promised me something."

You turned to face him, your breath catching in your throat.

"You won’t lose yourself in all of this. You can’t let it destroy you. You can’t let it be your whole world."

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words hitting you like a punch to the gut. How could you promise him that? How could you promise him you wouldn’t burn yourself out chasing after a ghost when you weren’t sure if you could handle the truth?

But in that moment, you realized something. You didn’t know how to let go. And you didn’t know how to trust again. But maybe—just maybe—he was right. Maybe you needed to find a way to let the case be part of your life, not your entire existence.

You nodded slowly, meeting his eyes, "I know."

And just like that, the air between you shifted. There was still so much left unsaid, but for the first time in a long time, you both knew you were on the same side. Together, for better or worse.

The investigation had hit a dead end. Every lead you chased only seemed to open more questions, but none of the answers ever brought you closer to the truth. Every night, you lay awake, staring at the ceiling of your bedroom, wondering if you were wasting your time, wondering if you had already missed something important.

Jungwon had been quieter since that night—still here, still present, but something had shifted. It was like a wall had gone up between the two of you, even though you were both stuck in the same place, in the same mess.

He could feel the distance growing. And that hurt more than anything.

Jungwon had spent the last few months trying to earn back your trust, be worthy of your love again. To go back to how things were, how much you loved each other despite the mess you both were in.

The touches, the gazes, the affection, the laughs, the nights you spent entangled in each other’s arms. He wanted it all back. More than anything. But it seemed the more he reached for you, the more you seemed far away. So close yet so far. Oceans apart.

He was done with it.

You pushed yourself up from the bed, throwing on your jacket and grabbing your keys. Your room was suffocating, its stale air mixing with the heavy tension in the room. You needed space, needed to think.

When you stepped outside, the cool air hit your face, a welcome relief from the suffocating silence inside. The world outside your room was just as empty as it felt in your mind. You walked down the street with no clear destination in mind, your thoughts swirling, trying to make sense of everything.

“Y/n."

Jungwon’s voice cut through the silence, and you stopped in your tracks, turning slowly. He stood a few feet behind you, his hands in his pockets, his frantic breath vaporizing into the cold air.

He had ran to follow you.

You didn’t say anything. Instead, you just met his gaze, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"You’re pushing yourself too hard,” His voice was low, his concern hidden beneath layers of uncertainty, "We need to step back, rethink the case. There’s something we’re missing."

You shook your head, “No. I’m close. I can feel it. I just need to find the right piece."

"You’ve been saying that for weeks!” he bursted, frustration creeping into his tone, “…But we’ve been chasing shadows, y/n. We need a new approach."

You were silent for a long time. The anger that had been simmering beneath the surface was bubbling up again, but this time, it was mixed with something else. Something raw. Something you didn’t want to face.

"You don’t get it, Jungwon," you finally snapped.

"You don’t know what it’s like to feel like you’re losing everything, and you can’t fix it. You don’t know what it’s like to be constantly looking over your shoulder, wondering if you’re going to lose another person you care about!”

Jungwon’s expression softened, and he stepped closer to you, his eyes locking onto yours with a tenderness that made your breath catch. He didn’t say anything at first—just let the words hang in the air between you.

And for a moment, you thought you might crack. You thought you might let the anger go and let him in.

But then the weight of everything came crashing back. You weren’t ready to let him back in, not when you still didn’t trust yourself.

You took a step back, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Don’t. Don’t say anything—Don’t do anything,” you stated, your voice trembling. Your eyes watered.

The words came out harsher than you intended, and you saw the flash of hurt in his eyes. But before he could respond, you turned away, walking quickly down the street, trying to outrun the suffocating feeling of being trapped.

You didn’t want to hurt him. You didn’t want to push him away. But you couldn’t help yourself. You were scared. Scared of losing him.

Scared of what would happen if you let him too close again.

You didn’t realize how far you’d gone until you found yourself standing in front of the alleyway, the one where your partner had died. The sight of it made your stomach turn. Memories flooded back—his laughter, his promise that everything would be okay. The days he would accompany you to your parent’s graveyard. Your birthdays he’d make sure to celebrate, knowing you were too busy to remember. He might not have been blood, but your connection went further than that. You had failed him.

And finally, you let go. You squat to the ground, soft and frustrated sobs escaping your mouth.

So close, yet so far. It’s never enough. Why?

"You’re not alone."

Jungwon’s voice echoed in your mind, and you felt the weight of his words like a rope pulling you back.

You were so focused on the past that you hadn’t even realized Jungwon had followed you. You turned, startled, only to see him standing a few feet behind you. He wasn’t angry anymore. He was just... there.

He met your glistening eyes. His face softened. You got up, wiping away your endless tears. You looked away.

"I know you’re scared," he said quietly, "But pushing me away won’t help you. You don’t have to carry this burden alone."

You stared at him, your heart aching. You wanted to fight it. You wanted to tell him to leave, that you didn’t need anyone. But the truth was, you did need him.

You needed him more than you were willing to admit.

You took a step closer to him, your voice trembling as you spoke in broken sobs.

"I’m scared, Jungwon. Scared that if I get too close to anyone again, I’ll lose them. And I don’t know if I can survive that again,” you cried, slightly losing your balance from exhaustion.

He reached out instantly, gripping onto your arm. He pulled you close. The touch was soft, comforting. He didn’t say anything at first. He didn’t need to. You could feel the understanding between you, the shared pain, the shared fear.

"I love you," he breathed out, his voice firm but gentle, "so ardently."

And for once, you allowed yourself to believe that. You didn’t have all the answers. You didn’t know how everything would turn out. But with Jungwon by your side, you felt like maybe—just maybe—you could find a way through the darkness.

And that was enough for now.

Before you knew it, his lips connected with yours. Your hands gripped onto his jacket, the force of his kiss pushing against you. Your lips instantly melted into his. He kissed you with such longing and relief. He sighed against your lips, placing his warm hand onto your cheek. He tilted your head back slightly, deepening the kiss. Your eyes shuttered close, allowing yourself to get lost into him.

your heart fluttered, a familiar feeling that brought you joy.

He pulled away, looking into your eyes in desperation.

“Let’s go back home,” he said.

Home.

Yes, that’s where you longed to be. That’s where you are meant to be. A place where you share a space and affection with Jungwon, Home.

You were too busy to notice it before. You had it there all along. You were never alone. He was there. Every second and step of the journey. He is home.

You nod, a genuine smile plastered across your face. He flashed you a dimpled smile, one you haven’t seen in a while. He grabbed your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours. He led the way back to your home, tightly gripped onto your hand.

As if savoring the moment, to make sure it’s real. Scared of letting go, as if you were to disintegrate with the wind. As if he was a threat of losing you any second.

You close the door behind you. When you turn around, Jungwon cups your face again, smashing his lips onto yours. You softly yelp against his lips, startled. You grip onto him tightly, closing your eyes. Despite being outside in the cold, you can’t help but to feel like you’re burning up.

Jungwon picks you up and you immediately wrap your legs around his torso, refusing to break the kiss. He leads you to your room, softly dropping you onto the bed. You both rush off your clothes, desperate and hungry for each other.

He hovers over you, kissing you passionately. Your eyes shuttered clothes, your arms wandering around his bare back and chest.

You needed this, badly. His touch, his warmth, his closeness to you. It had been a long time since you both last were ever this close, let alone this intimate.

“Missed this so much,” he murmured against the kiss, “missed you so much.”

His hand travelled down to your pantie lining, pulling it down slowly by its hem. You let him. His lips trailed down to your neck, sucking softly onto your skin, marking and leaving trails of him on you behind.

He unclasped your bra, sucking in the bud of your breasts. You moaned softly, closing your eyes in pleasure. He sucked onto the soft skin around your breasts, leaving more love bites. He rubs his fingers onto your wet cunt, plastering your wetness around his fingers. He inserts one finger in, slowly and almost punishingly.

“F-Fuck, Jungwon,” you breathed out, gripping onto him.

Then, he inserts another. He slowly pumps his fingers in and out of you, causing your mouth to fall agape in pleasure. He watched your lewd reactions to him, fascinated by your mesmerizing beauty and pleasure given to you. His dick became hard at the sight of you and the feeling of you clenching around his fingers.

“Yeah? you want me to continue, pretty?” he teased, kissing you sloppily in order to muffle your broken moans.

“Can you take my cock now, baby?” he said, kissing your neck softly.

You nodded, a moan in response, “mhm..”

He took his fingers out, sucking onto them. He took his boxers off, his cock begging to be released from the tightness of it. He aligned himself with your entrance, teasing you with his tip.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he breathed out, “so ready for me.”

And with that, he pushed himself into you. He groaned, as you clenched around his cock tightly. You instantly feel full. He starts to move slowly, waiting till you get adjusted to him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he gazed down at you under him, so defenseless and in pleasurable daze.

He picked up his pace, his cock glistening from your wetness. You whimpered, gripping onto the bed sheets.

He leaned over you once again, using his arms to prop himself up. He kisses you as he thrusts his hips deep against yours. You struggle to kiss him back, causing a sly smirk on his lips against the kiss. He breaks the kiss, quickening his pace mercilessly. whines and soft groans come from the both of you, in a rhythmic sync, deepening the intimacy shared between each other.

It’s just as you remembered. Connected, interlinked, as if no one has touched you quite the way Jungwon has. No one else compares.

The soft moans of his name drove him crazy. It was like a melody, an addictive tune he could never get tired of. All he wanted was to continue hearing it, pleasuring you. Loving you. Consuming you.

He pounded relentlessly into you, his cock twitching as he approached his orgasm. You gripped onto his back tightly, your nails digging into his skin.

“I love you,” he breathed, “I love you so much.”

Your body arched into him, feeling the tight knot in your stomach threatening to undo.

You wanted to say it back, but your mind was so fucked-out to build coherent words.

Instead, you just held him, tightly. You held his tender gaze, exchanging meaningful messages beyond words.

‘I know. I love you, too.’

His head rested on the crook of your neck, inhaling the scent of your skin and hair. The scent of both of your bodies interlinked. The scent of him on you.

You wrapped your legs around his hips, crying out in pleasure.

“Yes, oh, just like that,” you whined, “m’cumming.”

Jungwon thrusted his hips harder into you, hitting your spot with no fail. Your eyes shut close, mouth agape, as you reach your orgasm hard.

“Fuck, pretty, cum on my cock,” he grunted, thrusting slowly but hard, riding out your high.

His cock twitched as he released his load into you. Your legs quivered, feeling yourself recover from your hard orgasm. Jungwon kissed your cheek softly before plopping next to you, exhausted. You were both sweaty, tired, and still panting. His bare chest glistened in sweat yet he seems so attractive. You reach out to cup his face, he grabs your hand and plants a tender kiss on your palm. You smile.

“Do you want to take a bath or get some sleep?” he asked, moving away a strand of your hair from your face.

“To be honest, I don’t think I can walk right now,” you laughed.

He chuckles, “I’ll carry you.”

You nod, flashing him a soft smile. He gets up, sweeping you off the bed and into his arms. You hold onto him tightly, as he takes you to the bathroom. He places you gently onto the counter, capturing your lips softly. The kiss is softer this time, tender, and sweet. With a wet sound of the kiss, he breaks away. He turns around to prepare the bath for you. Dipping his hands into the bathtub, he looks over at you.

“It’s ready, pretty,” he said, walking over to you.

You climb off the counter, he holds you for support. You slowly get into the bathtub, Jungwon following. A soft sigh of relief escapes your lips at the feeling of the warm bubbly water. Jungwon holds you from behind, leaving soft kisses on your shoulder. You melt into him, allowing yourself to rest against his chest.

“Better?” he asks, kissing the side of your head.

You smile, “Much better. Thank you.”

The tension in the air had lessened in the days that followed. It was easier to breathe, to speak, and to be in each other’s company. It wasn’t exactly like how it used to be, but it was a step closer to it.

Every step you took seemed to lead you further into the web of lies, but none of the pieces fit. It wasn’t just about your partner’s death anymore. It was about a deeper conspiracy, something that reached far beyond what you had ever imagined.

Jungwon had been quieter, more thoughtful, his sharp eyes noticing things you missed. The two of you had spent hours combing through records, analyzing evidence, and following up on any leads that seemed even remotely promising. But nothing had connected. Nothing made sense.

Not until now.

You sat at the table in the dining room, your mind running through the reports in front of you. The scattered photos of your partner, the witness statements, the security footage that seemed to repeat the same things over and over again—until something caught your eye.

"Wait a second," you muttered, your finger tracing a line on the page. Jungwon, who had been sitting across from you, leaned in, his curiosity piqued.

"What is it?" He asked, a faint edge of urgency in his voice.

You flipped the page to a new report, showing the names of officers involved in the initial investigation. Most of the names were familiar—colleagues you had worked with, trusted for years. But one name stood out to you, circled in red ink by a source you hadn’t recognized.

"This guy," you said, tapping the name with your finger, “Officer Han Joon."

Jungwon frowned, “I don’t know him. Should I?"

"He’s one of the officers who was first on the scene after my partner was killed," you explained, your mind beginning to race, “But what I didn’t realize at the time was that he’s also been involved in a number of other high-profile cases that were later marked as unsolved or closed for ‘lack of evidence.’"

You paused, staring at the report, your pulse quickening.

"It doesn’t make sense. What if the rat is closer than we thought? What if it’s him, ‘someone inside the department,’ just as Hyunjin said?"

Jungwon leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing as he processed what you had said, "If Officer Han’s involved… that means someone in the department’s been helping the mastermind all along. Giving him the inside info, covering his tracks."

The weight of his words hit you hard. The realization that the danger you were facing wasn’t just coming from the outside—it really was also already inside the walls you had trusted.

"We need to get to him," you said, your voice low, determined, “We need to find out what he knows."

Jungwon nodded, standing up. He was already slipping on his jacket, his expression set, “We’ll need to be careful. We don’t know who’s watching us."

You nodded, the familiar chill of danger settling in. But this time, it didn’t feel like something you could run from. You couldn’t back down now—not when you were so close to the truth.

The two of you moved quickly, gathering the evidence you had and heading toward the police precinct where Officer Han worked. The building was busy with activity, the hum of officers and detectives moving between desks and filing cabinets. But despite the seeming normalcy, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching you. Every time you passed an officer, you felt their gaze linger just a little too long, a little too knowingly. It was almost as if they could tell you were onto something.

You and Jungwon split up, each of you taking different routes to avoid drawing suspicion. You knew Han’s schedule—he usually worked the late shift, spending hours at his desk. You made your way to the back of the department, where the file room was kept, the one that was usually off-limits to anyone except senior officers.

It wasn’t hard to find a way in. You had the right credentials—though they felt fake now, like you were wearing a mask you didn’t quite recognize. You slipped past the guarded door, heading straight for the row of locked cabinets where sensitive files were kept.

Jungwon had already hacked into the system, disabling the security cameras for the moment. You were in, but the clock was ticking. If Han showed up early, you would be trapped, exposed, and most likely caught. But you were running out of time.

You pulled out the files, your heart racing as you rifled through the papers, skimming over each one, looking for any clue that would tie Han Joon to the mastermind. You weren’t sure how long you had before the others would catch on, but you weren’t about to let that stop you. Not when you were so close.

"Found something," Jungwon’s voice echoed through the comms in your ear, and you froze. His tone was low, cautious.

"What is it?" you whispered, still flipping through the papers in front of you.

"Han’s phone records. He’s been in contact with someone outside the city. Someone with a criminal background. They’re scheduled to meet next week, at a warehouse on the outskirts of town."

Your heart skipped a beat. This was it. This was the break you had been waiting for.

"We need to go," you said, quickly grabbing the most relevant files. You didn’t hesitate.

"We’ll confront him. We take him down then, for now we need to make a plan."

As you and Jungwon raced to your car, your mind was already working through the next steps. This was the moment you’d been working toward, but with it came a sense of dread. Officer Han was one piece of the puzzle, alongside with other newly discovered suspects to investigate. But if you were right, it meant the mastermind was still out there, still pulling the strings. And now, you had a target on your back.

"Y/n," Jungwon said as you slid into the passenger’s seat, his voice low but steady, “We don’t know how deep this goes. We’ll need to be careful."

You nodded, bringing your hand to caress his cheek, “Of course.”

Tonight, you weren’t just chasing for the truth. You were fighting for your life. One you have found worth living for: Him.

Once you both returned home, you immediately went into inspecting all the files you took. Jungwon joined, as always, by your side. A few hours later, you had a list of prime suspects to investigate. Exhausted and evidently stressed, you slumped into your chair. You dropped the piles of paperwork onto the table, calling it a night.

Jungwon looked over at your tense expression. He got up from his seat, walking over behind you. He took a look at the paperwork you had. His hands gently massaged your shoulders, causing you to close your eyes in satisfaction.

“You need to relax, pretty,” he said, “you’re so tense.”

You keep your eyes closed, enjoying every bit of the massage. You softly moaned in satisfaction, a signal for him to continue. His mouth curled into a sly smirk. He leaned over to your neck, placing soft kisses from behind. Slow, sensual, deliberate.

“Jungwon,” you breathed out.

“yes, baby?” he whispered, walking over to lift you onto the table.

You open your eyes, startled. Before you can question him, he positions himself between your legs, his hands resting onto your waist. He kisses you, gently. You kiss him back, lazily, your exhaustion getting the best of you.

“Let me take care of you,” he offered, “just relax, okay?”

You don’t protest, instead you just nod. His hands pull onto the hem of your pants, pulling them off. He plays with the hem of your panties, before taking those off, too.

Too sleepy and in daze, you didn’t realize what was happening till your panties were on the floor. Your eyes widen slightly in realization. But it was already too late.

“Jungwon, wait—”

He takes a few long, slow, wet licks onto your cunt. You bit back a moan, gripping onto the table. He pushed open your legs apart, opening you up on display on the dining table like a meal. Then, he enfolds your cunt into his mouth. You moan, gripping onto his hair. Wet slurping sounds and the sound of your whines fill the room.

“ngh…jungwon,” you moaned.

He looked up at you, meeting your sultry expression. He swears he could cum at the sight of you like this. His tongue sloppily glides onto your cunt, sucking and flicking your bean. Your legs tremble, your breath is rigid.

“Feels so good,” you whimpered.

Jungwon stuffed his face deeper, savoring and devouring all your juices like a starved man. He needed more of you. All of you.

He pushed you onto your back, forcing you to lay on top of all the paperwork. Now propped open on the dining table, Jungwon ate you out passionately.

Your legs shifted uncontrollably, your hands laced within his hair. Insistent moans slipped from your mouth, instinctively pushing his head further into your cunt.

Jungwon wrapped his arms around your thighs, deepening his tongue into your cunt. Wetness dripped from his chin from his sloppy mess on your cunt.

“I’m—ngh,” you fisted his hair, pushing him closer as you approached your orgasm.

Your back arched into him, no longer caring a bit about the time you spent organizing the paperwork on the table.

And then, finally, with a loud gasp the knot in your stomach came undone. Your breathing was rigid, your body trembling from the ecstasy.

Jungwon smirked, wiping away the wetness from his chin.

“Let’s get you to bed, yeah?” he whispered, grabbing you from the table and tossing you over his shoulder.

You yelped in surprise, holding onto him. He gently dropped you onto the bed sheets, in which he tucked you into. It wasn’t long before he got under the covers, enfolding you into his arms. You melted in his arms, the rhythm of his heartbeat bringing a sense of calming to you. You inhaled his scent, as if memorizing it by heart. You both drifted off to sleep, entangled into each other’s arms. And even during the night, when you would quietly jerk awake from nightmares, you couldn’t help but to think.

‘I don’t want this to end,’ you thought.

‘I want to be selfish. I want to pursue this stupid dream with just the both of us.’

You could feel it in your bones, with every breath you took: the guilt. Could it really work out?

Could you really be happy, be selfish for once and have it all?

The past still crept up on you, even when you told yourself it was time to let go. Jungwon had started to repair your broken heart, putting back the pieces. Slowly, but surely.

You wanted to be selfish. You wanted to let your guard down. You deserved it.

But despite it all; it was only a matter of time before it all came crashing down.

it started with a lie.

Or maybe it started long before that—with the wounds they never let heal, with the trust you both never fully rebuilt. Either way, by the time you found out, it was already too late.

You stormed into your apartment, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the walls. Jungwon barely had time to react before you threw a crumpled piece of paper onto the table between you both.

"What the hell is this?" you demanded.

Jungwon frowned, picking it up. His chest tightened the second he saw what it was—a file, fresh off the precinct database, detailing an anonymous payment wired to a key witness in their case. One that was meant to be there at the meeting spot you figured out. But, now that Jungwon approached him, the key witness must’ve snitched on you and fled with the money by now. It was a dumb mistake: a fatal one.

Blood drained from his face.

You saw it.

"You bribed him?" you spat, your voice laced with disbelief and something far painful, “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?"

Jungwon exhaled, running a hand through his hair, "It wasn’t a bribe, y/n. You needed answers, and you were slowly becoming miserable without them. I couldn’t see you like that. And he wasn’t going to talk unless he had a reason to."

"So you threw money at him?" You let out a humorless laugh, "Great. That’s real reliable evidence."

‘Just an arrogant rich boy,’ you thought. You hated the selfish actions of him, which he carelessly does because he knows he can do them. With no worry, no thought. Because he has people to protect him, money to support him, and higher-ups to keep him out of trouble. You hated how low he stooped.

Doesn’t that make him equal to who you’re going after?

Jungwon’s jaw clenched, “I did what I had to do."

"No," you shot back, stepping closer, your eyes burning with rage, "You did what you wanted to do, without telling me. Without even thinking about the consequences."

Jungwon’s patience snapped, “And what the hell have you been doing, y/n? Losing yourself over this?You put a gun to my fucking head to force me into this shit, but now you’re acting like you’re the only one allowed to make choices?"

Your eyes narrowed at him, "I didn’t blackmail you for fun, Jungwon. I needed help—I needed someone I could trust."

Your voice broke slightly on the last word.

And that was what did it.

Because you had trusted him. And now, here you both were, in the same cycle of betrayal, the same aching disappointment.

Jungwon felt his pulse hammering in his skull. He wanted to explain. He wanted to tell you that it hadn’t been about secrecy, or control, or hurting you. He just wanted to end this war before it destroyed you both. But most importantly, you.

It’s always been about you.

But instead, the words that left his mouth were the wrong ones.

"Maybe I never should have come back."

And just like that, whatever fragile thread had been holding you both together—snapped.

Silence crashed over the room like a violent wave, drowning everything in it.

You stared at him, your breath catching in your throat. For a second, just a split second, he saw something in your eyes—something that almost looked like hurt. But then it was gone, replaced by cold, hard indifference.

You let out a short, humorless laugh, “Then go."

Jungwon clenched his jaw, running a hand through his hair as he exhaled sharply. He hadn’t meant it. Not like that. But the damage was already done, and you…

you weren’t the type to let a wound fester without striking back.

"You know what’s funny?" you said, stepping closer, her voice smooth, lethal.

“I used to think i needed you,” you said.

Jungwon’s heart slammed against his ribs.

"Y/n—"

"I thought that maybe—just maybe—you could make up for the way you left, for the way you let me fall apart alone,” your lips curled into something cold, something sharp, “But I should’ve known better. You were always good at running, weren’t you?"

His fists tightened, “You think I wanted to leave you?!" His voice came out raw, splintered.

“you think it was easy for me?” he stated.

"I don’t give a damn if it was easy," you snapped, "You still did it."

Jungwon let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head, "And you haven’t forgiven me since."

"Why should I?" you shot back, eyes burning with something dangerously close to fury, "You don’t deserve my forgiveness, Jungwon."

His breath caught.

And then, softer—deadlier— "You never did."

He didn’t know why it hurt so much. Maybe because deep down, he had been clinging to the idea that if he fought hard enough, you would let him back in. That if he proved himself, if he stayed this time, you would finally let yourself forgive him.

But maybe that had never been an option.

Maybe, he had been chasing your ghost this entire time.

Maybe, he had been a fool to think he still had a chance.

Jungwon exhaled slowly, his expression hardening,

"Then maybe I should stop trying."

Something flickered in your gaze, but before he could figure out what it was, he turned away, walking toward the door.

He didn’t stop.

He didn’t look back.

Your hands instinctively reached out for him, yet no words could come out of your mouth. Your hand fell back to your side at the sound of the front door slam. A unspoken sign of goodbye. And before you knew it, tears spilled from your eyes. It was a piercing feeling, a suffocating one. And before you knew it, you were sobbing on the living room floor. Where he had left you.

And for the first time since he came back into your life, You finally let yourself wonder—

Maybe you really had lost him for good.

He didn’t show up at your house anymore. The house was void, uncomfortably silent, and suffocating. The bedroom in which you would once walk in to find him already sprawled onto your bed, was empty. Intact, just as you left it. The bedroom was tidy, just as you had done it in the morning—a painful reminder that he was no longer here.

Only the smell of him lingered in the air. Along with his soothing voice, the one that hummed you to sleep when you were tormented at night.

But things didn’t stop there.

After many days had passed and the day of the secret meeting approached, you wondered if Jungwon would come find you at all. To accompany you, like he always would. You quickly resigned the idea, forcing yourself to grasp that he’s gone. Permanently.

But as you made your way out of your bedroom, you heard the sound of the front door open.

And then, somehow, it started all over again.

"…You’re not even thinking straight!" Jungwon’s voice echoed through the living room, raw with frustration.

“You’re so desperate to chase ghosts, you don’t even care if it gets you killed!" He continued.

You slammed the case file onto the table, papers scattering across the surface, “Don’t act like you give a shit, Jungwon. You didn’t care when you walked away the first time, so don’t pretend now."

His jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides, "You think I didn’t care? You think leaving didn’t fucking kill me?"

"You still did it.”

The words cut deep, sharper than any knife, and you saw the way they hit him—the way they hurt. But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop. The anger was still fresh, the resentment of his betrayal.

"You had a choice, Jungwon," you continued, voice laced with anger and something dangerously close to heartbreak, "And you chose to walk away. So don’t stand here and act like you have a right to tell me what to do now."

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply, “y/n, I didn’t—" He stopped, shaking his head, as if even he didn’t know how to explain himself.

“You wanted me to stay, but for what? To watch you destroy yourself over something you couldn’t fix?"

"It wasn’t your decision to make,” you retaliated.

Jungwon let out a bitter laugh, stepping closer—too close, “And this?"

His voice dropped lower, "Dragging me back into your war? This was my decision to make?"

You felt the heat between them, thick and suffocating.

"You owe me," you said, your voice dangerously sharp, laced with pain and rage.

Jungwon’s eyes darkened, “I owe you?"

You lifted your chin, refusing to back down, "You let me believe I was alone. You gave me over, locked me up in your basement! You lied to me! You left me with nothing but questions, and now that I have the answers, you want me to stop? You want me to just let it go?"

He was so close now, close enough that you could see the way his chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, “I want you to stop throwing yourself into the fire like you have nothing left to lose."

"I don’t."

Silence.

Something shifted in his expression—something dangerous, something almost desperate.

"That’s bullshit,” he narrowed his eyes at you, “and you know it.”

You swallowed hard, refusing to let the weight of his words settle, “You don’t know me anymore, Jungwon."

His gaze dropped to your lips for just a second, before flicking back up to your eyes, "Yeah?"

“Then why do you still look at me like you wish I never left?"

your breath hitched.

Because he was right.

And that was the worst part of all.

You stared at him in silence, in disbelief. The tears rushing into your eyes like a hit of a merciless wave. You hold back a sob from your mouth with your trembling hands, forcing yourself to look away.

Standing only a few steps away, Jungwon instinctively reaches out for you.

His fingertips burn on your skin. You move, facing him once more with rage.

“Go right now!” you shouted, pushing him away, “go now!”

“Go!” You broke out into another painful sob, your harsh words now sounding like a desperate plea, a broken, pained one.

You didn’t know what else to do, grief crashing down on you at once.

You didn’t want to hurt him; You were terrified of what would happen if he was to stay around. In your own way, you wanted to protect him from you. Despite it all.

He could see it.

He shook his head, reaching out for you once again.

You rejected him. You pushed his hands away.

He tried again, taking a grip onto your arms, “Y/n, listen to me, baby…”

“No!” you moved frantically, trying to get out of his grip, “No! Let go of me!”

You hit him repeatedly in his chest, hot tears streaming down your distressed face.

He took every hit, gazing at you with such tenderness.

It broke you even more.

Your blows decreased. They became weaker and your voice trembled, “please…go home, Jungwon.”

Finally still, Jungwon pulled you into a warm and tight embrace.

You didn’t fight it this time. Maybe because you didn’t have the strength, or maybe simply because you wanted this. You needed it.

“I’m already where i’m supposed to be, y/n.”

You sobbed gently against his chest, melting into his arms. You gripped desperately onto him, every sensorial part of you obsessed with him. He caressed your head soothingly.

“I didn’t mean what i said the last time. I’m so sorry, I know it’s my fault. I don’t deserve you, nor your trust or your love. I know that,” he explained, “but i choose to continue trying. Even if you push me away. Hit me, curse at me, fuck—tell me you hate me. Anything. Just as long as it gives me your forgiveness.”

He brought his hands to cup your face, bringing your softened face towards his.

“And you know why?” he looked into your eyes, “because I love you, y/n.”

Your eyes flickered. He slowly lowers himself before you, his hands holding yours, getting on his knees.

“I truly don’t think I can be without you, y/n. I love you so much it hurts. So please…please, baby…if you can find it in you to love me one more time, i’ll spend the rest of my life in proving it to you. Just one,” he begged, “please love me one more time.”

And even though he tried to stabilize himself, you could hear the small tremble in his voice and the glistening in his eyes.

He so desperately wanted it to be you.

You stood there, lost at words. Many thoughts rushing through your mind. You weren’t sure what to do. You didn’t want to think.

“Okay…” you breathed out.

His face softened immediately, his shoulders relaxing. He kissed your hand, standing up once again. He cups your cheek, bringing you into a soft kiss. He left soft pepper kisses around your face, whispering ‘I love you’s in between.

“You don’t have to say it now,” he said, “this is enough for me.”

And then, he reconnected your lips tenderly. Your eyes flickered close, gripping onto his arms. He cocked your head back slightly, deepening the kiss. Close wasn’t close enough for him.

“Should we…go to my room?” you said, quietly.

He flashed you a dimpled smile, “Is that what you want? Are you sure? I don’t want to rush you—”

you cut him off with a kiss. He took the message, scooping you up in his arms. He led the way into the bedroom, sitting onto it with you on top of his lap.

And before you knew it, you were holding onto him, taking every single inch of him. He sat against the headboard of your bed, while you bounced on his cock. He wrapped his arms around your waist, his face snuggled into the crook of your neck. He left bite marks, kisses, and love bites all over your skin. Worshiping every part of you, honored to breathe the same air you breathe, let alone to have the privilege to touch you. He whispered a few affectionate words into your ear, gripping onto your ass to slam it back down on his cock. He guided your hips, rocking you. A few whines and groans left his mouth, thrusting further into your tight cunt.

you moaned, making a mess of his hair as you fisted it.

There weren’t many words exchanged, letting your body and small whispers exchange the message. You could feel it in every touch, every kiss, every gaze—the love he had for you.

Your body’s felt interlinked, your heart fulfilled with every inhale you took of his bare skin.

You took time to take in his touch, the way his warm, big, arms wrapped around you perfectly. In a protective stance, assertive, yet so tender.

It was a form of ecstasy only he could bring you.

Body and soul.

And it didn’t stop there. Jungwon took you the entire day, round after round without much of a break. He was a madman, deeply entranced and bewitched by his love for you. He wanted you, every part of you, he wanted to satisfy you. And he did his part, too well. He knew that.

He pleasured you all day, overstimulating you in the best way, till tears formed into your eyes and your eyes rolled back. Orgasm after orgasm.

By the time you both were done, you both laid entangled in each others arms. His chin rested on top of your head, while you laid against his chest. The sound of his breathing, soothing you. You woke up in the middle of the night, realizing your position. You stared at him, watching the way his chest rose and went down. His handsome face, his pretty features, every curve on his face.

You didn’t want to admit it, but you were far too in love with him than you let yourself think.

You smiled, planting a very gently and soft kiss onto his lips. He softly stirred, instinctively pulling you closer. You let him, closing your eyes to fall asleep once again.

And finally, the day had came in a blink of an eye.

The night air was thick with tension, the city lights fading behind you as you and Jungwon sped toward the warehouse on the outskirts of town. The roads were mostly empty, except for a few passing cars, but every shadow felt like a threat.

His grip on the steering wheel was tight, knuckles white as he saw the way you fought the unease creeping up your spine. You had spent years working inside the system, believing in the justice you served. But now, that same system had betrayed you. Someone on the inside had been feeding information to the mastermind all along. And if Han Joon was the rat, then confronting him wasn’t just about exposing the truth—it was about survival.

"If this goes sideways," he finally spoke, his voice quiet but firm, "you get out. You understand?"

Your eyebrows furrowed, you shot him a glare, “What are you talking about? Not happening."

"Y/n—"

"Don’t start," you cut him off, "We’re in this together. I’m not leaving without you. You don’t get to make that call."

Jungwon exhaled sharply, muttering something under his breath, but he didn’t argue further. He knew you too well. Knew that you weren’t the type to run.

As the warehouse came into view, he slowed the car, pulling into the shadows of an abandoned loading dock across the street. The building itself was old, its metal siding rusted and covered in graffiti. A single dim light flickered above the entrance, casting eerie shadows against the walls.

You scanned the perimeter. No guards. No backup. That was suspicious in itself.

"Too quiet," Jungwon murmured, voicing your exact thoughts.

"Han wouldn’t come here alone," you said, reaching for your gun, “He’s either already inside, or we’re walking into a setup."

Jungwon reached into his jacket, checking his own weapon, “Then let’s make sure we’re not the ones getting trapped."

He leaned over to the passengers seat to place a soft kiss onto your lips before getting out the car. You froze, blankly, before a small smile crept onto your face.

You moved together, keeping low as you approached the side entrance. The door was slightly ajar, a dark gap in the metal frame.

You glanced at Jungwon. He nodded once.

With careful steps, you pushed the door open just enough to slip inside. The warehouse was dark, save for a few overhead lights illuminating the main floor. Rows of crates and shipping containers lined the space, providing plenty of places to hide. The air smelled of dust and old metal, the silence heavy, almost suffocating.

Then, the sound of footsteps.

You pressed yourself against a metal beam, your breath steady as you peeked around the corner. Han Joon stood near the center of the warehouse, his back turned to you. He was talking to someone on his phone, his voice low but urgent.

"No, listen—this isn’t what we agreed on."

A pause.

"I told you I’d handle it. But if we move too soon, they’ll figure it out."

Another pause.

"Yes. I know. I’ll take care of it."

He hung up, shoving his phone into his pocket. His posture was tense, his fingers twitching like a man in over his head.

You exchanged a glance with Jungwon. This was it.

Gun raised, you stepped out from the shadows. "Put your hands where I can see them, Han."

He stiffened at the sound of your voice but didn’t turn immediately. Instead, he let out a slow, almost resigned sigh, “You’re persistent. I’ll give you that."

Jungwon moved beside you, his own gun trained on Han, “Who were you talking to?"

Han finally turned, his face unreadable, “Does it matter? You’re already too late."

A chill ran down your spine.

"Too late for what?" you demanded.

Han’s lips curled into a humorless smirk, “You still don’t get it, do you? This isn’t just about your partner. It never was. You think you’re solving one case, but you’re playing in a much bigger game. And the people pulling the strings?" He let out a low chuckle.

"They don’t lose,” Before you could react, Han moved.

His hand shot toward his waist, reaching for a weapon. Instinct took over—you fired.

The gunshot echoed through the warehouse as Han staggered backward, clutching his shoulder. He gritted his teeth in pain, but even then, there was something almost smug in his expression.

"You think this ends with me?" he panted, blood seeping through his fingers. "You’re chasing ghosts, y/n. And you have no idea who you’re really up against."

A sick feeling twisted in your stomach.

Jungwon stepped forward, grabbing Han by the collar and slamming him against the nearest crate, "Start talking. Now."

Han let out a low, pained laugh, “I’d love to, really. But I don’t think my boss would like that very much."

Then, the sound of a phone vibrating.

Han’s eyes flickered downward, and you followed his gaze—to his jacket pocket.

Jungwon yanked the phone out, glancing at the screen. An unknown number.

Your heart pounded. Whoever was calling, they were watching.

Jungwon answered without hesitation, “Who is this?"

Silence.

Then, a voice distorted by a voice modulator.

"You should have stayed out of this, detective."

The line went dead.

And then, the warehouse lights cut out.

Everything plunged into darkness.

Then—footsteps. Fast. Closing in.

"It’s a setup!" Jungwon shouted.

Gunfire erupted, the sharp cracks splitting through the silence. You barely had time to duck behind the crates before bullets ricocheted off the metal walls. Han slumped to the floor, his wound making him an easy target.

Shadows moved in the darkness. More than one. More than two.

You and Jungwon were outnumbered.

And the real mastermind was still out there, watching. Waiting. Smiling in the dark.

"They knew we were coming," you whispered, pressing your back against the crate.

Jungwon exhaled sharply, “Of course they did. Han was stalling—he led us right into this trap."

Han’s barely conscious body laid on the floor. He wasn’t your priority anymore. The real threat was closing in.

Another round of bullets tore through the air, forcing you and Jungwon to shift positions. You caught a brief silhouette moving in the distance—at least four shooters, maybe more. Well-trained. Tactical.

"We need to move," Jungwon muttered, “Sitting here makes us easy targets."

You nodded. There was no choice. You counted down in your head—three, two, one—then broke into a sprint, dodging between crates as more bullets chased your shadow. Jungwon was right behind you, firing precise shots that forced the gunmen into momentary cover.

As you weaved through the maze of containers, you spotted something—a narrow metal staircase leading up to a catwalk. Higher ground. An advantage.

"Up there!" you called out, and Jungwon followed your gaze.

You darted toward the staircase, your heart pounding, adrenaline surging through your veins. Gunfire rang out again, a bullet grazing your arm, but you bit down the pain and kept moving. Jungwon returned fire, covering you as you scrambled up the stairs.

From the catwalk, you finally got a better view of your attackers. Four men, all dressed in black, all moving in coordinated patterns. But then your stomach twisted.

One of them wasn’t just a man.

It was an officer.

Your blood ran cold.

"Jungwon," you said through gritted teeth, your voice barely above a whisper, “They’re not just hired guns. They’re cops."

Jungwon’s expression darkened, “That explains why we’ve been one step behind this whole time."

Your worst fears had been confirmed. The mastermind wasn’t just using a single rat inside the department—he had an entire network. People who had sworn the same oath you had. People willing to kill to protect their secret.

You took a slow breath, leveling your gun, “If the department’s compromised, we can’t trust anyone."

Jungwon nodded, his gaze sharp, “Then we take them out ourselves."

He moved first, a single shot taking out the closest shooter below. The man dropped before he could react. That left three.

You spotted the officer—the traitor—and aimed. But before you could fire, he shouted something into his radio.

"They’re here! Move now!"

Your gut twisted.

Move now?

Something was wrong.

Then, in the distance, you heard it—sirens.

Jungwon cursed, “They’re bringing reinforcements."

Your mind raced. If backup arrived, they wouldn’t be there to help you. They’d be here to clean up the mess—to silence you permanently.

"We have to get to Han," you said.

Jungwon glanced at you like you were insane, “Han? He’s dead weight. We need to get out of—”

"No," you cut in, "he knows something. And if we let them take him, we lose our last chance to expose them."

Jungwon hesitated—but then nodded. He trusted you.

With no time to waste, the two of you leaped down from the catwalk, landing hard on the concrete floor below. The remaining gunmen fired, but you ducked and rolled behind a metal crate. Jungwon grabbed Han, who was barely conscious, dragging him up.

The warehouse doors burst open, more figures flooding in. Too many.

You looked at Jungwon, He looked at you.

No words were needed.

This was it. It was all or nothing.

You took a breath, steadied your gun, and charged straight into the fire.

The warehouse was collapsing into chaos. Sirens wailed in the distance, gunfire echoed through the massive steel structure, and the acrid scent of smoke and blood filled the air. You and Jungwon moved as one, dodging bullets, returning fire, pushing forward through the swarm of corrupt officers determined to silence you.

Han Joon was slumped between you, barely able to stand as Jungwon dragged him along. He was your key—your last chance to expose the mastermind behind everything. But getting out alive was another story.

The loading dock was ahead, a massive set of double doors that led outside. Your car was parked just beyond them, a possible escape—if you could make it there.

"We need cover!" Jungwon shouted as more bullets rained down from the catwalk above.

You spotted a forklift and an overturned stack of crates, “There!"

Together, you moved swiftly, taking down one of the gunmen in your path. Blood splattered across the concrete as he crumpled. You had no time to hesitate. Every shot you fired, every step you took, was life or death.

Then, a voice cut through the chaos.

"Drop your weapons."

Everything stopped.

From the shadows, a man emerged. Dressed in a sleek black suit, calm despite the bloodbath surrounding him. His dark eyes met yours, and the moment they did, your breath caught.

Commissioner Park.

Your superior. Your mentor. The man who trained and watched you and Hyunjin grow into the detectives you once were.

The mastermind.

Your grip on your gun tightened, rage curling in your stomach, “It was you."

Park smiled, "It had to be me."

Jungwon stepped forward, his gun raised, “You killed Hana’s partner. You framed Kang. You let innocent people die just to keep your operation alive."

Park tilted his head, as if amused, “And yet, here we are. With you making the same mistake he did—getting too close to the truth."

At his signal, more officers surrounded you, guns drawn. You and Jungwon were outnumbered, outgunned. Even if you fought, it would be a massacre.

Han Joon coughed weakly, lifting his head, “You… bastard…" he rasped, his voice barely audible.

Park barely acknowledged him. Instead, he sighed. "I told you before, y/n. There are forces bigger than you at play. This city? It belongs to us. And you…?" His expression darkened, “You should’ve learned to stay in line."

Your mind raced. If you were arrested, you'd never see a courtroom. They’d kill you before you even had the chance to testify.

Jungwon must have realized the same thing. His grip on his gun shifted slightly, his muscles tensing. Ready to fight. He instinctively stepped in front of you, protectively.

And that’s when you saw it—Han Joon’s fingers twitching, slowly reaching into his jacket.

A grenade.

Your eyes widened, “Han, don’t—"

But it was too late.

With the last of his strength, Han pulled the pin.

"Run!"

The explosion was deafening. The shockwave sent you flying backward, crashing against a stack of metal pipes. The entire warehouse trembled as flames erupted from the blast site, smoke billowing into the air.

Dazed, ears ringing, you forced yourself to move. Jungwon was already pulling you to your feet, his face streaked with soot and blood. He cupped your face, worriedly. Although it was muffled, you could hear him ask, “are you okay?”

you nodded, signaling to move quick.

Park was still alive, thrown back by the explosion but struggling to stand. His men were scattered, some dead, others too disoriented to react.

This was your chance.

You staggered forward, gun in hand, leveling it at Park’s chest. His eyes locked onto yours, and for the first time, you saw something in them—fear.

"This is for my partner."

You pulled the trigger.

The shot rang out. Park staggered, a red bloom spreading across his suit. His body crumpled to the floor, lifeless.

It was over.

Jungwon grabbed your hand, tugging you toward the exit. "Come on, before the whole damn building collapses!"

With smoke filling your lungs and fire raging behind you, the two of you ran.

Justice had been served, But at what cost?

The morning air was crisp, a stark contrast to the chaos of that night. It had been a few days since then. You stood on the rooftop of the precinct, watching as the city slowly came to life beneath you.

Park’s corruption had been exposed. Every officer on his payroll was being investigated, and arrests were happening by the hour. The department was in shambles, but for the first time in a long time, it felt like real change was coming.

But the victory felt… hollow. Though it brought you peace, it wouldn’t bring back Hyunjin.

You watched Jungwon get out the car from your view, making his way to your apartment. He looked up, catching you looking at him. He smiled, waving at you enthusiastically. You smiled back, signaling him to quickly come up. He had a cake box in his hand, your favorite cake to celebrate for the victory.

Then, your eyes flickered over to the loud motorcycle speeding down the road.

Your smile faded. Your heart dropped to your stomach.

As if time was moving slowly, the motorcyclist took out a gun from their pocket, pointing it at Jungwon.

You looked over at Jungwon, “Jungwon, watch out!”

Jungwon followed your gaze, confused, but it was too late.

Then, you heard the gun fire. You screamed, instinctively reaching out for him as if you could safe him.

Your eyes widen, your body trembling and going cold.

Jungwon stumbled to the ground, the motorcyclist rushing off but crashing into a large truck. The force impact causing him to fall off his bike, taking hard blows. He fell unconscious.

You ran out of your apartment, tears falling out of your eyes. You took the emergency stairs, impatient to get down there. You were bare foot, still in your home clothes—nothing could prepare you for this.

By the time you made it out, people gathered around, watching. You dropped beside Jungwon, reaching out to him. You hands trembled terribly, hovered over him. Unsure of what to do, still in shock. You sobbed, holding onto his face.

“Oh my God,” you choked out, “please. Please hold on a little longer—jesus, someone call the police please!”

you sobbed frantically, looking around to the others for help. You placed your hands over his bloody wound on his lower stomach, your hands coated in his blood. As if you could stop it from flowing, but it was no use. He looked at you, trying to maintain a reassured expression. He cupped your cheek with one hand.

“Y/n—”

“No,” you cut him off, “don’t talk. Don’t use your energy. Everything is going to be okay, just wait till later—”

“Y/n, listen to me,” he continued, “I need you to promise me something.”

You shook your head, broken sobs escaping your lips, “No…no! for what? You’re going to be okay, I promise…”

He wiped away your tears with his thumb, his complexion looking worser by the second.

“Why aren’t they here yet,” You shouted, frustrated and desperate.

“Promise me,” his soft gaze lingered on you, “that you’ll live in peace now. That you won’t stress yourself out for things out of your control.”

You watched him, words becoming futile devices. You nodded, your breath rigid from the sobs. Your hands were dripping in his blood, his face flinched in pain.

“Please, hold on a little longer,” you sobbed quietly, caressing his head and cheek in desperation.

As if to memorize his face. His touch. His warmth. Of what was left of him, at least.

He tried to laugh but choked on it, grimacing. "Guess I’m not as invincible as I thought."

You pressed down on the wound, your heart hammering, “Stay with me. You hear me? You’re not going anywhere. You can’t leave me. You owe me, don’t forget that!”

His eyelids fluttered, his breathing ragged, “You’re bossy, you know that?"

"Shut up,” your voice trembled.

The sirens were distant, help on the way, but time felt slow. Too slow. You couldn’t lose him. Not now. Not after everything.

His fingers found yours, weak but firm, “I worry I may not have told you this as much as I wished to, I love you, y/n."

"Don’t say that,” Your voice broke.

“Promise me one more thing,” he brought his bloody hand to your cheek.

“w-what?”

“In some universe, if by some miracle we cross paths, fall in love with me,” his loving gaze softened, “but If one day you find yourself in the position to love someone again after i’m gone, allow yourself.”

Jungwon smiled faintly, but his grip was slipping.

Then, in the distance, the sirens grew louder. Help was coming.

You didn’t know if it would be enough. A few sobs escaped your lips at his words.

“No—”

“Yes. Promise me,” he replied.

“No!” you shouted, “If this is about my happiness, take it, I don’t want it without you!”

His eye lids grew heavy, he coughed a few times.

“Please, promise me…” a tear slipped from the corner of his eyes.

You felt sick to your stomach. You swallowed down, hard. You nodded.

“I promise,” you cried, “but that won’t need to happen. Because you’ll be okay, just hold on a bit more, help is on the way.”

Your attention was caught by the ambulances turning the corner. You felt hope. But as you turned to face Jungwon, you felt his hand slip down your face. His blood smudging against your cheek.

Your blood went cold.

His eyes were flickering close, his chest not rising fully.

You jerked forward, tapping his face.

“Jungwon, no, no, listen to me,” you said, “do you hear me?”

It hit you again, a wave of tears. Worse than what it was before. You held him in your arms.

“I love you,” you whispered, “did you hear me? I’m ready. I love you, Jungwon. So much.”

You sobbed loudly, your piercing screams for help breaking through the cold air. You planted soft kisses onto his lips.

“I love you. Did you hear? I said I love you!” you laid your forehead against his, “Please. Wake up. I forgive you, okay? You can’t leave me. You said you’d never leave…”

The ambulance responders rushed out the vehicle, checking him. The time felt like it went slow, everything sounded muffled, watching them take him from your arms. You watched as his hands separated from yours, dropping to his side. A harsh reminder that this was real, along with other things.

That he never got to hear you tell him you loved him.

And that he’ll never know you forgave him.

You sat there, watching as they took him from you. His blood all over you, becoming cold. You stared off into the air, the shock crashing down on you. As memories of him flashed through your mind, the many things you still had to say, the things there was still left to do.

You were left with a bitter taste in your mouth, and the pain of losing him forever.

[thesirencult]

Messages For The Divine Feminine 222

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dear Divine Feminines,

I've never felt called before to share this kind of message as I was always skeptical abaout collective messages and saw them as nonsense. This evening though, while doing a personal tarot reading I felt the energy of two important Divine Feminine archetypes: Aphrodite and Cleopatra.

As I was wrapping up my reading I felt called to share some messages with fellow Divine Feminines on their journey to ascension and spiritual fulfillment.

Think about tomorrow as the first day of a new life. If you want to welcome the new you have to let go of old stories and negative beliefs who are holding you back from reaching your true potential. New perspectives are opening up and the truth is available for you to uncover.

You've strayed away from your path and got carried away by attaching yourself to your current situation. You forgot that your goal should be manifesting your heart's desires and not getting stuck on emotional rollercoasters. You hold the reigns. Detaching from the situation doesn't mean letting go of a beautiful vision of the finale, it means not paying attention to the immediate responses of your environment. Also have this in mind when it comes to your relationship with your destined Divine Masculine.

You are choosing yourself now. You are choosing your own vision of a better future. You're crafting the grand finale! Remember, you are currently living in the energy you seeded yesterday, so if you want a better tomorrow start with "good seeds" now. Congratulations, you have cut the cord and cracked the code of what manifestation and alignment means. Don't destroy tomorrows dreams by analyzing them from the viewpoint of yestarday's broken thoughts. You are more powerful than that.

Hoarding won't bring you results. On the contrary, sharing yourself and your gifts with others and being generous with your time and energy will yield better results. This will help your energy flourish. Growing means being generous with the fruits of wisdom. Stop trying to "save yourself" from the future because it scares you, the future is much better than you think and you're just self-sabotazing. You are safe. This tower moment was needed because it is better to build on solid foundation. Goddess wants you to know that your Divine Masculine is also undergoing the same process. No, when I'm saying Divine Masculine I'm not talking about the dusty next door, but about your true pure soul connection, the one that demands growth and love from you, not hate, frustration and games. These are low vibrational connections. Games won't work when it comes to soulful connections. Drop the mask and share yourself bare... Step into the mindset of abundance. You're enough, you are safe and you have enough love to be vulnerable with it.

When it comes to your love life, you're currently learning to believe in love. You are in the energy of manifestation, mid-manifesting. You next connection will be a soul connection. You're NEW to this, cut yourself some slack. Focus on how you can grow and prepare for them. Your person will love the fact you're both learning how to love eachother properly, they won't make fun of your eager nature or you trying to do better, they ar eon the same boat.

Think about what YOU want, feel it and give it a shape. Create the mold and the Goddess will fill it in. Do not try to fit the clay in the mold. Even if you are in a relationship with your true soul connection know that he is and he becomes the product of your manifestation. Create the mold. Create the mold and they will follow. The situation holds lots of potential to grow into something beautiful-if you let it unfold. Roses bloom when the time is right, the moon holds different shapes each night, time runs in circles and cycles, cosmic timing...

Trust. Time, faith and belief are the solutions to your problems. How can the seed of love grow inside you? How are you going to water it? Are you even watering it my gorgeous Divine Feminine? Work your way up and let yourself grow into the ideal state of love. Let your vision of love adapt and change.

In a pure soul connection each one builds on the work of the other. A sacred entaglement of two equals with a common goal. Both alternate between leading and being lead. Swaying in the dance of mutually beneficial promises. If you want your love life to heal, seek to be helpful, seak to lead spiritually. Together you will bring to life something much greater than what you would create alone.

My Divine Feminine, let go of your doubts, accept yourself as a whole, mind-body and soul and water your potential.

[bandaidmackerel]

No one is talking enough about the fact that akutagawa and atsushi’s abilities attack each other instead of attacking them

[mrmeepsmadmind]

' me?!? get SNUcK uP aWn?!?!? by a SPY???? you do realize what im capable of. Right. ( emo wolf with hetereophobia eyes glaring menacingly at the screen . holding guns ) i could teleport spies into the ding dang sun. don't push me . '

coming out of theaters from watching Spy's Disguise like a movie and shipping freakineer and fry. merry valentines

[hayazuru]

How it feels like to be a goo fan but at the same time you also love gun

[cometblaster2070]

bribelle gets me so good because it's like:

but what if we were destined to be enemies what if we were destined to play the part of enemies before we were even born what if our fates were decided before we could ever get a say in it and we had to play the parts that were given to us and that were performed by those before us for god knows how long and what if you were born loved and cherished and treasured what if you were gold and beauty and roses and the sun and what if I was born cursed and despised and feared and what if I was darkness and coldness and sharp thorns and the moon and what if we were still made to complete each other.

what if we were told that we had to hate each other that you were my mortal enemy and that I had to kill you, no, I had to condemn you to a fate worse than death in order to fulfil my destiny and play my part correctly but what if we never hated each other what if we were friends what if we cared for each other what if you were one of the only people who could stand me and see through me and took care to remember me and check up on how I was doing and what if you were one of the only people I could be open with be honset and genuine with.

and what if we were destined to be enemies but that was never the case and what if we fell in love instead? what if I never wanted to curse you, never wanted to make you sleep for a hundred years what if I wanted to save you what if I wanted to be your prince your savior would you accept that would you let me save you would you let me be your true love rather than your destined villain?

you and i are destined to be together all the same but I would prefer it if it were as my lover rather than my nemesis. and what if we both shared the same dream what if we BOTH wanted the same thing what if we both loved each other? then what?

this is a stupid ramble but GOD epic winter really left me REELING after that entire dream sequence.

[flamestar126]

SHOOTING + CUPID + RED STRING

[idcallmyselfhuman]

since cae is being shipped with everyone i would like to come out of the woodworks and claim that nothing is going to top nanook/caelus and i will die on this hill

“In the best and the worst case, you will have to face Nanook, the Destruction.”

you're telling me that in the best reality that elio foresaw, no matter what, they're destined to face each other off the moment caelus drew the aeon's gaze?

that's sick as shit

[finald-pug12345]

Kimberly: Umm, Nick. Where's Wendy?

Nick: We got into an argument, so she's at the garden.

Alex: I was at the garden not too long ago and she's not there.

Nick: Did you dig?

Sam: 😨😨

[faerune]

i need whatever thing shadowheart and minae got goin on

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

salty you can't just put this in the tags and not expect me to be fuckin SHOOK TO MY CORE BY IT

"they would find each other in any universe" and I love that it doesn't necessarily mean always romantically. They can be sworn enemies in this universe but that means they still found each other.

[multiimistakes]

idk how to describe Des and Lance's relationship dynamic other than vaguelly calling it open and Lance telling Des he's the one scaring away the hoes.

[colormepurplex2]

Golden Cufflinks | JJK

▻ Golden Cufflinks ↳ Alpha!Jungkook x Omega!f.Reader ⤜ Best Friend's Fiance, Strangers to True Mates ⤜ A/B/O AU | angst, smut, fluff ⤜ Rating: MA ⤜ WC: 11,742 ⤜ Summary: You’ve never given much thought to finding your true mate, firmly believing it’s something that will happen when it happens. But, when you do find him—thanks to a pair of golden cufflinks—it very well could ruin everything. They say not all’s fair in love and war; you just hadn’t expected your best friend’s wedding to be the battleground. ⚠️ Crass language, talk of designation hierarchy, mild talk of misogynistic practices of the past, confessions of cheating(not by main pairing), anger/arguments, kissing, dick sucking, mild cum intrigue, maybe mild breeding kink if you squint, unprotected v. sex, knotting, lots of slick and cum

Written for @hisunshiine as part of the 2nd Quarter 2023 @bangtanwritershq Awards Season! A/N: Congratualtions, Vanessa. You deserve all the kudos for a job well done during the 2nd Quarter 2023, I hope you enjoy the story!

A special thank you to @downbad4yoongi, @lo1k-diamonds, @moonleeai for the amazing beta services!

Can also be found on: Ao3 | Wattpad

Nerves flutter in your belly as you gather your belongings from the plastic bin at the end of the rolling conveyor belt on the other side of security. As you walk away, your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you have to juggle your purse and jacket to retrieve it.

You feel bad for making Hayun, your best friend for as long as you can remember, wait for a response, but you desperately just want to find your gate and have a seat first. Once you find it and settle in at a chair by the big windows looking out on the tarmac, you thumb to her contact.

“If I didn’t love you so much, I’d probably hate you right now for making me wait so long for a response,” Hayun sasses before her voice softens, “Hello, I love you.”

“Love you, too, girl,” you say, unable to help the smile that tilts your lips up. “Sorry, I’ve been MIA for the last few hours. Things have been hectic. I misplaced my passport this morning, but I finally found it under the bed and then missed the hotel shuttle. I had to call a rideshare, but of course, it took them forever to get through airport traffic, and ugh…” you trail off with a sigh. “I’m sitting down for the first time since I woke up this morning.”

Which was approximately four hours ago at this point. Your flight is set to take off less than an hour from now, so you imagine boarding might start soon. You’re not exaggerating when you say it’s been hectic. It was bad enough waking up at 3 AM, but you’re a chronic planner and stickler for time, so missing your flight was the absolute last thing you wanted to happen.

“Oh, babe, that sucks. I’m glad it’s all worked out, though. I really can’t wait to see you!”

The conversation passes quickly, easing your heart and mind as you catch up on the last twenty-four hours. You haven’t seen Hayun in a handful of years. Her career took her to the other side of the world, and yours kept you where you both grew up. The last time you saw her was through a haze of tears at this very airport when she boarded a plane destined for Seoul, South Korea, where she was adopted from at just two years old.

Visiting each other was always something you both talked about. But, as with most things, life just happens, and eventually, you find yourself making that visit you always talked about for reasons you never considered before—like your best friend tying the knot with a guy you’ve never met.

Sure, you’ve seen pictures of him and have heard him talk in the background of most of the phone calls you’ve exchanged with Hayun over the last few years. But, it was never on your friendship bingo card that the next time you’d find yourself seeing your best friend, it would be her at her wedding.

“I gotta go. They’re about to start boarding.”

“I’ll see you when you land. Can’t wait!”

Hayun disconnects the call, and you gather your belongings to prepare to line up in the boarding queue. It will be a long flight, but seeing Hayun again after so long apart will be worth it.

You fiddle with the bracelet on your left wrist, twisting and pinching at the silver moon charm dangling from the thin chain. Hayun has a matching one. They were presents from your parents on the day you were both recognized with your designations; she was thirteen, and you were fifteen.

The dynamics of Alphas and Omegas have long since changed from what it once was. Legend has it that once upon a time, an Alpha and an Omega were closer to their wolf-kin than how the world is now. Thanks to evolution and science, the only things remaining from that time are the more basic bodily functions—scents, knots, and slick, to sum it up.

The crescent charm on your wrist symbolizes your designation—Omega. But being an Omega doesn’t hold much meaning for you. You don’t feel all that special, and it’s not like you’re rare or any more or less capable than the next person. As it stands, you can see at least a dozen other moons jangling from bracelets, waiting to board the same plane you are.

There are also necklaces, tattoos, and other ways to display a designation scattered around the waiting area. The how of it is mostly regional, sometimes generational. The Beta standing behind you in the queue has a teardrop earring dangling from their left ear, and if it weren’t for the pheromone blockers you took this morning, you might be able to smell their unique scent.

You also have your own smell, a scent that is just you. You’ve been told it’s a sweet, citrusy bouquet like lemonade on a hot summer afternoon. However, also thanks to the blockers, it remains suppressed to the point someone would have to make you bleed or press their nose so firmly against your throat it hurts to smell it.

There really is only one thing that a lot of people are envious of when it comes to an Omega’s designation, and that is that they supposedly have an Alpha true mate out there somewhere that will call to their baser nature. It’s such a rare phenomenon these days that it might as well be part of the legends of old, too.

The bottom line is that no one cares about subgenders anymore; it doesn't matter whether your charm is the Omega crescent, the teardrop of a Beta, or the triskelion denoting an Alpha. In fact, you’re pretty sure you could ask the Beta for their earring and offer them your charm bracelet and no one would bat an eye over it.

Though you’d never do that, considering the chain around your wrist isn’t technically yours. The night after you presented as Omega, when you snuck away with Hayun to lay on a blanket under the stars and moon that was so like the charm hanging from your twin bracelets, you giggled as you exchanged them. Her tiny fingers trembled against your wrist as she secured her silver chain around it. You did the same with your own around hers a second later.

It was that night that you both swore always to be friends. No matter what happened in life or where either of you ended up, you would always remain true to one another. So far, your friendship has been unfailing, a constant thread of comfort and light for you both. No matter how long it’s been, the charm still smells faintly of your best friend—a perk of the charms themselves, holding a token essence of their owners. Hers holds a soft lilac and jasmine scent that you’ve always thought complimented your own citrus notes.

The flight attendant scanning boarding passes beckoning you forward breaks you out of your internal reflections. With a full heart and giddy anticipation curling in your belly, you find your seat and settle in.

It’s a long flight, longer than most flights you’ve taken. But when you finally walk off the plane, make it through customs and immigration, and finally empty into the arrivals terminal of the Incheon Airport, you feel immediate relief, and the hours spent in the air don’t seem so bad.

“Hey, over here!” a familiar voice calls out, catching your attention.

You spin on your heel, confusion setting in for just a moment before it’s replaced by another wave of relief and a little of something warmer. Taehyung, Hayun’s adopted brother, swamps you in a giant bear hug that quite literally sweeps you off of your feet.

“Wow, hey. This is a surprise. What are you doing here? Where’s Hayun?”

Taehyung scrunches up his face, letting out a small scoff. “It’s a good surprise, I hope. Something came up, and she had to meet with the wedding planner and caterer at the last minute. She called me and asked if I could pick you up.”

“Oh, okay. Yeah,” you confirm with a smile. “Good surprise.”

It’s no secret that you’ve always been fond of Taehyung. As a baby, you were toddling around with him long before his family adopted Hayun. She ended up being the sister you never knew you needed, even if you were a few years older.

When she moved to Seoul for work, Taehyung ended up being the physical representation that took her place. He flew out a week before you to help her with planning and will stay for a few weeks after you’ve already headed back home. They may have had their differences over the years, but their sibling bond is stronger than petty arguments and rivalries.

“Ready to get on the road? It’s a long drive.”

Hours later, with the rolling countryside and farms dotting the horizon, you discover the fiasco inside your backpack. The bottle of pheromone blockers you packed this morning somehow got shuffled to the bottom of your bag and popped open. The once-powder-filled capsules litter the bottom of your bag, broken open. Pale blue powder coats your things, the mild flower smell of the medicine lingering in the air.

“Fucking hell,” you groan. “Any chance there’s a clinic somewhere between here and where we’re going?”

“Unfortunately, no.” He frowns, drumming his fingers lightly on the steering wheel, making the triskelion signet ring on his index finger glitter in the mid-day sun. “We’d probably have to turn around and head nearly three hours back to get anywhere near a clinic with blockers. I'm told most people don’t use them anymore these days here. Maybe another one of the wedding party might have some you could borrow if you really need them. But, honestly, I don’t see anyone minding if you don’t use them.”

“Most people here don’t use them anymore?”

“Well, yeah, with the progression of equality and things like that. They’re so great here, way more progressive than back home. It’s very common for Omegas to go off of blockers or never even begin them. Laws have been implemented to punish Alphas who can’t control themselves. The responsibility of remaining safe shouldn’t be solely set on the shoulders of the Omega population.”

Talk like that has only recently become popular back home. You’ve heard the speeches and followed the media and the sources, but you suppose after nearly half of your life taking blockers, it just comes naturally to continue to do so.

“Hm, yeah, okay. I guess it’s no big deal, really. As long as you’re sure people won’t mind?”

Taehyung sniffs the air, his nose twitching. “I think you smell great, but just in case not everyone does, if someone says something, then I’ll personally drive all the way back to the city and pick you up some,” Taehyung promises, giving you one of his swoon-worthy smiles.

The crush you once upon a time had on Taehyung threatens to spark anew at the sight of his charming, boxy grin—a grin you would have once done anything to pull from him. But now, it just fills you with warmth and a homey comfort.

You give him a smile of your own. “Deal.”

“Hayun!”

Her squeal of delight when she turns around and catches sight of you echoes through the open space of the dimly lit bar of the bed and breakfast where the wedding is taking place.

It’s a cozy space with rich dark wood accents and royal blue velvet upholstery. Brass gas lamps and light fixtures give the entire lounge an upscale and chic atmosphere that you know is right up Hayun’s alley.

The few hours you had between checking in at the bed and breakfast and meeting Hayun for her very small—just you and one other person—bachelorette party were spent familiarizing yourself with the grounds.

The ceremony will take place in one of the lavish gardens, and the reception will follow in one of the grand dining halls. For a bed and breakfast, it’s far fancier than any you’ve ever been to. It definitely does not have the mom-and-pop feel that you typically associate with the term ‘B&B’.

“You’re here!” she shrills, throwing her arms around your neck.

Her petite form fits just like it always has against yours. Thick black hair, shorter than the last time you saw it, curls around the rounded lines of her cheeks, and her brown eyes are bright and glisten with happy tears. With her bubbly personality and small, wispy frame, she's always reminded you of a fairy.

You sigh, taking a deep breath and savoring your best friend's soft, floral scent. Thanks to the bracelet tinkling around her wrist, it holds the smallest undercurrent of your sweet citrus. Clearly, she’s not taking blockers; the scents are heavy and delightful. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Hayun sucks in a deep breath that mirrors yours. “Wow, babe, you smell good! Finally gone off the blockers, huh?”

“Uh, kind of,” you chuckle, untangling yourself from her arms. “I brought some, but they broke open in my bag at some point.” You shrug. “Tae said it shouldn’t be that big of a deal.”

“Oh, it’s not. Absolutely not,” Hayun agrees, grinning broadly. “I’ve been off them for years and haven’t had a single issue. Come on, let’s have a drink and catch up!”

You settle in at a table, and it’s not long before Eunseo, Hayun’s other guest, joins you. You’ve heard a lot about Eunseo. Much the same way Taehyung took the place of Hayun for you, Eunseo took your place for Hayun. You half expect to feel some sort of friendship jealousy upon meeting Eunseo for the first time, but it doesn’t come. If anything, you’re immediately fond of the young woman.

The evening carries on, Hayun and Eunseo regaling you with tales from working together and their various adventures around Seoul. Eunseo shows genuine interest in your life back home, seeming eager to hear stories of Hayun’s childhood. She shows a particular interest in Taehyung, asking you in no certain terms more than you think is appropriate to share.

“But you’ve seen it, right?” Eunseo asks. Her elbows rest on the table, and her chin is nestled on her clasped hands, her eyes wide and glassy from the countless glasses of wine she’s had. “I bet it’s huge. Am I right?”

“Ugh,” Hayun groans. “Can we not talk about my brother’s dick. Please.” She makes a gagging sound before slurping down the rest of her cocktail and flagging down a passing waiter for another.

You try to wave off the waiter, but he’s turned toward the bar before you can get his attention. If Hayun has much more to drink, you’re not sure she’ll be able to walk down the aisle tomorrow unassisted.

“I’m just curious. It’s a harmless question,” Eunseo pouts. “Ignore her. Tell me. I just have to know.”

You swirl the straw around in your glass of water before giving Eunseo what you hope is a conspiratorial look. “Well—”

“What?! Ew. Are you really about to answer her? Please, dear god, do not tell me you have seen my brother’s penis. If you’ve seen it—fuck, I might actually puke.”

As much as you probably shouldn’t, you laugh, which earns further protests and obscene noises from Hayun.

“Before you interrupted me, I was going to say that maybe Eunseo should ask him herself.”

Hayun howls a protest, sloshing her new cocktail onto the table as she gesticulates a crude hand gesture in your direction. “Do not. I repeat, do not do that, Eunseo!”

The conversation peters off, Hayun losing herself in another cocktail while Eunseo stares dreamily up at the ceiling.

“I think—hiccup—it's bedtime,” Eunseo slurs.

As if right on cue, a familiar face peeks through the entrance to the lounge. You wave Taehyung down, and he comes jogging across the space to your table. His shirt is rumpled with the top few buttons undone, but his eyes are clear, and you know he’ll be a perfect gentleman.

“Are you sure?” you ask him, pitching your voice low.

“I got this, don’t worry. We finished up a few hours ago anyway.”

Taehyung gives you a warm, private smile before turning to Eunseo. “Hey there, beautiful. Let’s get you on to bed, okay?”

“Where’s my savior?” Hayun asks, frowning after her brother escorting Eunseo from the lounge and back through the front lobby.

“Right here,” you tell her, sliding out of your chair and coming around to her side of the table. “Come on, let’s go.”

It takes you more than twice as long as it usually would to get to Hayun’s room. She leans against the wall in the hall as you dig through her pockets in search of her room key. Once you find it tucked between a few stray bills and her ID, you usher her into the room and deposit her onto the bed.

Her fiance has a room on the other side of the grounds, but after the ceremony, they will both be moving into one of the couple’s suites for the night before jet-setting off to Jeju Island for their week-long honeymoon.

“Am I doing the right thing?”

Hayun’s question catches you off guard. You throw a confused look at her over your shoulder as you rummage through her suitcase in search of something for her to sleep in.

“What?”

She sighs as she rolls over, letting her head hang off the edge of the bed so she can look at you upside down. “Marrying Jungkook. It’s a mistake…so why am I doing it?”

“Hayun…what are you talking about? Jungkook is perfect for you. You guys have been dating for five years, and you told me you’ve never been happier. Where’s the mistake in that?”

The sound Hayun makes is akin to something a wounded animal might make. She flops, flailing her arms and legs like a child throwing a fit.

“That’s the thing, though! I’m happy, but I don’t love him. Oh god,” she cries. “I don’t love him.”

“Hey, hey now.” You abandon the search for sleeping clothes and crawl across the floor until you’re kneeling beside the bed. Smoothing your hand across her forehead, you ask, “Where is all this coming from?”

“He thinks I’m his true mate,” she whispers. The tears leaking from her eyes slide up her face, wetting the edges of her eyebrows before sliding over her forehead and disappearing into her hair. “But I know he’s not mine.”

“Wh—wait, what?” You push up from the floor and move onto the bed, gathering your best friend’s head into your lap so she’s no longer hanging upside down off the side of the bed.

She hiccups a sob, lips trembling as she explains, “He says I’m his true mate, that he knows because of my scent. But he doesn’t smell special to me…how is that possible?”

“Hayun, I don’t—”

“I cheated on him,” she whimpers in confession, cutting off what were going to be your soothing words of affirmation. They sour on your tongue, refusing to be released now.

Your stomach churns at her admittance. “You what?”

“You have every right to judge me. I’m a terrible person. But, when he told me I was his true mate…I panicked. I had to be sure I wasn’t broken, that me not finding his scent special wasn’t just something wrong with me.” Hayun blinks rapidly, trying to clear the tears as they begin to come in earnest. She clutches at the front of her shirt, hand fisting over her heart. “So, I slept with two Alphas that I work with to see if it was any different. I had to be sure. I had to know.”

“Hayun, I-I-I don’t…I’m not—”

“I’m such a fucking mess,” she sobs, curling in on you and pressing her face against your stomach. “I don’t deserve him. I only said yes to marrying him because I don’t want to be alone forever. I can’t be like you. I need someone.”

Her words sting, causing you to flinch involuntarily. You watch as she falls apart in your lap, ultimately giving in to her grief. It’s on the tip of your tongue to call her out on her childish behavior, to set the record straight about your own love life, and to leave her to her wallowing. But…the shaking of her shoulders and soft whines from her remind you so much of a younger and more fragile Hayun—the Hayun of your shared childhoods.

“Shh, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” No matter how you might feel about her actions and the hurtful words she’s spilled, you hate to see your best friend so distraught and broken. “Hey, look at me.”

You wait until her watery eyes peel away from your shirt and meet yours. “Tell me you hate me; it’s okay.”

“Hayun, I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. You made…a mistake, that’s all. You were trying to figure things out. But…Hayun, you…you have to tell him.”

She frowns up at you, her expression sobering. “Tell him?”

“He’s about to marry you, Hayun. That’s a big freaking deal…you have to tell him tomorrow morning before anything else happens.”

The laugh that bubbles from her lips is anything but humorous. “I-I can’t do that! He’ll hate me. He’ll call the wedding off!” She shoves out of your lap and stares at you like you’ve lost your mind.

“If Jungkook truly loves you and says you’re his true mate, I don’t see that happening. But, he deserves to know. You have to know that. Either you tell him now, or he finds out years from now, and then it’ll be so much worse,” you try to reason with her.

“He doesn’t have to know!” she whisper-yells, her tears turning from sad to angry in an instant.

You shake your head, unable to believe what you’re hearing from her. “This isn’t right, Hayun. You can’t go into a marriage with someone with secrets like that!”

“It’s not like it’ll happen again. I’m not going to cheat on him while we’re married. Please,” she begs, her face once more softening into saddened anguish. “I don’t want to lose him.”

“He deserves to know, Hayun,” you whisper, remembering your own keen sting of betrayal from many years ago. There is a reason you don’t date much. “You say it won’t happen again?” you ask, trying to buy yourself some time to process everything Hayun just told you.

Her silence is deafening, and you think she’s about to not answer you the way you hope, but, finally, she murmurs, “No. Never. I swear it.”

“Okay. Okay, good. But, he still needs to know.”

Just because you’ve never actually met Jungkook, it doesn’t mean you don’t care for him. He’s the one who puts a smile on Hayun’s face when you can’t. He’s the reason she’s as happy as she is…or has been? Now, you’re not so sure. But, what you are certain about is that Hayun is far too drunk right now to know up from down and is just having a moment of raw vulnerability.

“Are you going to tell him?” she asks, voice a hoarse whisper.

You chew your bottom lip for a moment before slowly shaking your head. Thinking about it, even if you didn’t care for Jungkook, he still deserves to know on pure principle. “No. I won’t tell him.” She lets out a soft sigh of relief, which has you tacking on, “Because it’s not my place to tell him, it’s yours.”

“Yeah,” she mumbles. “Okay.” She doesn’t say anything more beyond that, falling into a listless stupor, all of her energy sapped from the quick argument and endless cocktails from the bar.

After you wrestle her out of her clothes and put on a long nightgown, she tucks easily into bed. You leave a glass of water on the bedside table for her, then exit the room and head to your own.

A pang of uncertainty refuses to quell in the pit of your stomach. You toss and turn most of the night, falling into a fitful sleep just before the sun begins to kiss the horizon. It’s going to be a long day…a battle of wills you never saw coming.

🥀🥀🥀

Jungkook

Today is the big day, and Jungkook couldn’t be happier. Nothing could possibly bring him down from the high he’s feeling. Not even the fact that he is unable to find the cufflinks that were passed down to him by his father.

“Did you check the pockets of all your pants?” Jimin, Jungkook’s best friend, asks from where he’s lounging in one of the chairs on the other side of Jungkook’s hotel room.

“Yes,” he mutters, dumping his entire suitcase onto the bed to rifle through it once again. “I remember putting them with the pile of Hayun’s—oh fuck.”

“That’s great,” Taehyung sighs. “So my sister probably has them.” He checks his watch. “We don’t really have time to go on a scavenger hunt through her room. Jimin and I are supposed to meet the photographer to get started on some of the bride and groomsmen shots.”

Jungkook purses his lips and rakes his hands through his hair as he thinks of a solution. “I’d go look myself, but what if I run into Hayun between here and there? She specifically requested that we not see each other until the ceremony.”

Taehyung hums lightly. “I think I have an idea. The other girls don’t meet for pictures until after we’re done. So…yeah…okay…done,” he murmurs, tapping away at his phone screen. “If they’re in Hayun’s things, they’ll be delivered to you soon.”

“Thanks, Taehyung, you’re a lifesaver.”

Minutes later, Jungkook finds himself alone, Taehyung and Jimin having gone to meet with the photographer. Somewhere out there, beyond the confines of his room, his fiancee is probably smiling and laughing as she poses in front of the camera. If only Jungkook could see through walls. He’d give anything for even just a little glimpse of his bride-to-be.

When Jungkook first met Hayun almost six years ago, he nearly tripped over his own feet trying to track her scent. The meeting he was heading for was instantly forgotten, replaced by a visceral need to discover the source of that titillating aroma that had his hindbrain firing on all cylinders.

Never before had Jungkook experienced something so…primal. It was both alarming and utterly fascinating. Amongst the harsh scents of car exhaust and the warm notes of roasted coffee, Jungkook wove his way through the crowd on the sidewalk to the doors of a little cafe; Hayun was inside, ordering a matcha tea to-go, and the rest was history.

Jungkook sighs, forcing himself to stop daydreaming and fiddling with his shirt's empty cuffs and focus on putting together the rest of his suit.

The scent hits Jungkook a moment before the sound of a soft knock reaches his ears. He’s standing in the ensuite bathroom, mid-skin care routine. Wiping his wet fingers off onto a towel, he draws in a deep breath to confirm the aroma wafting to him from beyond the door of his room.

A roguish smirk quirks up one side of his mouth as he exits the bathroom and moves across the room. Unable to help himself, he opens the door. “Hayun,” he chuckles, fingers wrapping around the doorknob, “I thought we agreed that you…you are not Hayun.” The words tumble from his suddenly numb lips, rasping past his too-dry tongue.

“Umm, no. Not Hayun, sorry. You’re Jungkook?”

The woman standing before him is clearly not his fiancee. The woman’s purple gown is familiar, Jungkook knowing it’s what Hayun chose for her attending party. You’re a friend of Hayun, clearly, yet you smell exactly like Hayun…if Hayun smelled like Hayun times a thousand. The fragrance slams into his olfactory system, and the edges of his vision grow blurry a moment before he shakes his head and steadies himself with a hand on the doorjamb.

“Yeah,” he whispers, voice raspy with his suddenly dry throat. Revelations pounding him right between the eyes, washing through his body and keying right into his most basic of instincts.

Jungkook watches as your nostrils flare, and he knows it’s in that moment that you register his cedar and lavadin scent; the scent that marks him for what—who—he is.

“Jungkook,” you repeat his name, and he wants to howl with delight at how it sounds coming from your lips. “No. You can’t…it’s not—” your voice cuts off a second before you drop the small, black leather box you were holding and turn, disappearing in a flash of violet tulle and silk.

🥀🥀🥀

“Stop! Wait, please!” The shout of your name follows you down the hall, but you’re too focused on getting as far away from him and the feelings threatening to overwhelm you as you can.

“No, no, no,” you chant under your breath as you move as swiftly as the slippered feet will allow you to go without tripping yourself up.

It’s clearly not fast enough. It only takes a few frantic beats of your heart before a firm grip on your elbow draws you to a stumbling halt. The touch is electric, and your skin flushes with goosebumps at the heated contact.

“Don’t run,” Jungkook pants. “Please.”

You wretch your arm from his grip and whirl on him, a sharp remark ready on the tip of your tongue. Only, it dies there, never to be uttered, as your heart thumps violently in response to the look on his face—pure anguish.

Your voice is thread-thin as you finally manage to get words out, “This can’t be happening.”

Jungkook’s brow twitches, his lips tucked between his teeth. His emotions are stark on his face, and the conflict is raw and bare to you. Clearly, he’s warring the same as you, maybe even more so.

“Why do you smell like Hayun?” he asks, his voice soft in contrast to the raging storm you see in his eyes. “Why do you smell more like my true mate than she even does? Is this some wicked, cruel prank?”

You shake your head, intentionally drawing a breath through your mouth in hopes of saving your nose from another assault of his perfect scent. But, instead, his flavor laces over your tongue and slides down your throat to sit like a knot in your belly. You might as well have licked a stripe up his neck for all the good that did.

“I-I don’t know,” you choke out, trying to keep the pool of saliva under your tongue from dripping down your chin.

Jungkook steps closer to you, leading with his nose. He sniffs the air around you and something must not sit well with what he discovers because he rears back and bares his teeth. “Of course,” he mutters as his eyes drop to your left wrist.

Your eyes track his movement as he scoops up your wrist in a loose grip, and you realize it’s the bracelet there that has his attention. Everything clicks into place, and you feel like the faintest breeze could sweep you away with how lightheaded you’re feeling at this moment.

“We traded,” you whisper as if speaking low enough means the admission won’t utterly destroy the world as you know it.

“She’s not my true mate,” he states, voice as low as yours, fevered and quiet. “You are.”

Those words punch you in the chest, nearly taking you to your knees. If it weren’t for the hold Jungkook has on your wrist, you’re sure you’d be in a heap on the floor. As it is, he catches his other arm around your waist as you sway on the spot.

“Y-you shouldn’t.” Your protest is stilted, the words feeling robotic and unnatural as you gingerly press a hand against the arm that’s angled around your ribs. It was your intention to push his touch away, but the most you accomplish is flexing your fingers against the smooth cotton covering his thick bicep.

Somehow, you find yourself back in the room you had fled from just a few minutes ago. Jungkook settled you on the bed and is now pressing a chilled water bottle into your hands.

He kneels before you, headless of putting wrinkles in his black dress slacks. He’s wearing a thin white undershirt, his starched white button-up undone over it. The cuffs of the sleeves flop as he brings his hands into his lap and picks at the edges of his thumbnails.

Your eyes rove the room, catching on the black leather box still sitting on the floor by the door where you dropped it. Inside the box is nestled a pair of golden cufflinks—a pair you now understand have been passed down through the generations of Jeon men.

Absently, you press your thumb to your phone, unlocking it to reveal the text message that has irrevocably changed your life forever.

If you had known Taehyung’s text message requesting help would have led you to where you are right now, you’d probably have ignored it.

Yet, at the same time, if you had, you’d probably have had this revelation with Jungkook in the middle of the ceremony, and it would have caused all sorts of untoward chaos. No, it’s far better that it’s happening now instead of later. Maybe you can get ahead of this and fix it somehow. Though…

“Hey? You okay?” Jungkook interrupts your thoughts. “Fuck, that’s a stupid question. Sorry.”

“Huh? Oh. Umm…yeah. I don’t—what do we do now?” You turn your phone over, finger ghosting over the power button to lock the screen once more.

Jungkook sighs, and you can’t help watching the rise and fall of his shoulders, framing the swell of his defined chest with the action. He’s an exquisite specimen of masculinity, and even if it weren’t for the musky notes of his scent that mark him as your true mate, you’d find him devastatingly attractive.

“We need to tell Hayun. I c-can’t…I can’t marry her. Not when I’ve found—” he cuts off, wincing as his voice breaks. “I should go and find her. Now, before this can go any further. I’m sorry. I’ll, uh, I’ll find you later, okay?”

“Wait,” you call after him. He stops halfway to the door and glances back at you over his shoulder. “Shouldn’t we tell her together?”

Jungkook chews the inside of his cheek a moment, his eyes flicking over your face as he thinks through your suggestion. Slowly, he nods. “Yeah, maybe that’s for the best.”

There is palpable tension between you and Jungkook as you follow behind him out of the main building. He texted Jimin, knowing he’d be the most reliable with his phone on him, asking where the photos were currently taking place.

It only took a few minutes for Jimin to respond that they were almost finished but were currently capturing some group shots on the walking path by the lake on the backside of the property.

You’re vaguely aware of where the lake is located, having given the map of the grounds that was posted on the backside of your room’s door a cursory look the day you arrived. It’s a relatively short distance, yet it feels like miles with the weight of pure dread sitting firmly on your shoulders.

At least it’s not a feeling you’re experiencing alone. Jungkook is right there with you, and you can clearly see the unease in the stiff way his body moves. The tips of his fingers twitch back in your direction every few steps like he’s fighting off the urge to slip them between your own.

The first person you catch sight of is Yoona, the photographer. She’s squatting in the grass, her large DSLR camera held up to her face, as she captures candid moments of Hayun, Taehyung, and Jimin repositioning themselves along the lake's edge.

Your heart squeezes hard at how beautiful Hayun is in her form-fitting silk ivory, off-the-shoulder wedding gown, the lacy bell sleeves fluttering around her hands. Her head is thrown back, the peel of her carefree laughter carrying to you and further crumbling your soul into a million pieces. You ache, not just for the desire to draw closer to your true mate, but for the inevitable aftermath of what is about to happen.

Taehyung is the first to notice you and Jungkook. The smile on his face slowly disappears, replaced by a concerned frown. Hayun catches his expression and follows his line of sight. Her gaze sears into you, and you feel like you might combust into a cloud of ash at any second with the irritation contained in her pretty brown eyes.

“What’s going on?” Hayun exclaims, throwing her hands up in a frustrated manner as she stalks towards you and Jungkook. “It’s not time for your photos yet,” she tells you before her eyes swing to Jungkook. “What happened to not seeing me before the wedding? That was your rule!”

“Hayun, we need to talk.”

“Talk about wh—” she cuts off, her question turning into a gasp. Your wide eyes flick to you. “You told him?”

“What? No!”

Your protest rings out at the same time that Jungkook says, “She’s my true mate.”

A breeze kicks up, sweeping from behind you and tossing errant strands of hair across Hayun’s forehead. You’d give anything for the power to pluck the wind from the air, shove it back…keep it from showering her with yours and Jungkook’s combined scents—a blatant confirmation echoing the words Jungkook just let loose.

Hayun stiffens. Her jaw goes rigid, and her face pales as her nostrils flare. It’s a moment that will be forever written across the band of your friendship. Betrayal flashes through her eyes before morphing into something akin to somber resignation.

“Hayun,” Jungkook begins. “I don’t—we didn’t…I’m sorry. What do we do?” He spreads his hands out in front of himself in a helpless manner.

By this time, Jimin and Taehyung have come up from behind Hayun, faces wary as they take in the scene with growing clarity. You look to Taehyung, hoping he can see the silent plea in your eyes.

“Explain,” Hayun says simply. Despite how collected she seems, you can see the subtle tremble in her hands and the way the muscles in her neck continue to flex and strain as she clenches and grinds her teeth.

Jungkook launches into recounting the events that brought you to his room and broke the proverbial dam. “We—we had no idea. I swear this is the first time we’ve ever met, and gods, the bracelets…” Jungkook trails off, a pained sound rumbling from his chest.

“Is this a joke?” Taehyung asks accusingly, and it’s like a barb to your heart.

“We wouldn’t do that.” Your croaked statement draws Hayun’s attention.

Hayun sniffles, her chin jerking a little higher into the air. “My nose tells me one thing, but my heart tells me another. Did you know about this last night? Is that why you pushed so hard for me to tell him?” The last part is whispered, meant only for you, which hurts even more.

“Hayun, no! You know that’s impossible. I couldn’t have known.”

“Tell me what?” Jungkook asks, having heard despite her whisper, his eyes swiveling between you and Hayun.

You shake your head at him, not wanting to throw further fuel on the fire. “Hayun, please, believe me.”

A pregnant moment full of thick tension passes before it fizzles, and Hayun shakes her head, not in a dismissive fashion but in gentle acceptance. “I believe you,” she tells you. “I guess…I guess there won’t be a wedding in four hours unless you two want…” She trails off, a bittersweet smile tugging at her cherry red painted lips.

Jungkook blanches, wide eyes landing on you. “What? Us? No. I mean, sorry…but—”

Hayun holds up her hand, quelling Jungkook’s flustered response. “I was teasing, Koo, trying to lighten the mood. Um,” she pauses, absently twisting the diamond engagement ring around her finger before slowly slipping it off and closing a fist around it. “Can we talk, though? There’s something I needed to tell you today anyway.”

“Okay,” Jungkook says wearily.

“Tae, do you mind…?” Hayun asks, not even having to fill in the blanks. Her brother instantly steps into his role as protector and savior.

“Don’t worry about anything. I’ll make some phone calls,” Taehyung assures her before grabbing Jimin’s arm and starting back down the walking path.

“I’ll just—” you thumb over your shoulder in the direction Tae and Jimin just disappeared in “—be in my room.”

“Wait,” Hayun calls, pulling your retreat up short. “Come here.” She opens her arms, her hands opening and closing in grabby motions. “Please.”

A sob cracks from your throat as you throw yourself at her, wrapping your arms around her neck. “I’m so sorry, Hayun. I’m so sorry.”

“Hush. None of that. This isn’t anything we could have predicted or stopped from happening. If anything, maybe this is life’s way of getting back at me for what I did to him,” she whispers in your ear. “This is how it’s meant to be.”

Hayun smoothes a hand over your back and releases you. She steps back, using the back of a finger to lift the tears from your cheeks, and gives you a watery smile.

You’re not sure you can speak without completely losing yourself, so you just give her a tight nod and continue back on your way down the path. A part of you wants to hear what she has to say to Jungkook, to be there to soothe any hurts or aches…which is a startling realization that you’d not just tend to Hayun but to Jungkook, too. That internal, visceral part of you yearns to turn on your heel and…protect what’s yours.

It’s an odd revelation to think of Jungkook as yours. Well, yours unless either of you reject the bond. Though, that thought makes your stomach pitch and roil. You have to trail a hand along the wall in the hall leading to your room to keep yourself from curling over your abdomen at just the idea.

Once back in your room, you’re unsure what to do with yourself, so you absently start to gather your belongings and pack them up. Every few minutes, you find yourself pausing to stare at the door, ears pricking at the slightest sound from beyond it.

You’re not sure what you’re expecting. Whether it’s Hayun coming to your room so the two of you can cry together or Jungkook coming to claim y—uh, you shove that thought aside quickly because now is not the time. At. All.

The time for the wedding comes and passes without a single knock on your door nor a text or call on your phone. You’re tempted to go looking. For what, you’re not entirely sure—an answer, maybe, some sort of direction on what you should do now.

Finally, after hours of sitting in silence with just your thoughts for company, a soft knock sounds at your door. The long hem of your dress nearly trips you up in your haste to make it to the door. It swings open, and for some reason, your stomach drops, the flutter of disappointment heavy and unexpected.

“Hey, beautiful,” Taehyung says, his voice soft and full of emotion. “Mind if I come in?” 

His necktie is loose, and the top button of his dress shirt is undone. There is a tension in his eyes that wasn’t there earlier. It makes your chest ache.

“Sure,” you say, stepping back and letting him into your room.

Taehyung sighs, perches on the end of your bed, and props his elbows on his knees. His chin rests on an upturned fist, his other hand dangling between his legs, clutching his phone.

He opens his mouth, a single word the only thing coming out, “So.”

“So,” you parrot.

“Hayun wants me to take her home…alone. I’m not sure what all she and Jungkook talked about, but I think they’re at least amicable in agreeing that it would be best if he gave her a few days at home alone before they start the process of separating their lives.” You’re not sure if the bitter tinge in your chest is hurt because Hayun isn’t the one telling you this or because now you have to find your own way to the airport. As if reading your thoughts, Taehyung continues, “I can be back in two days, maybe sooner, depending on traffic. Perhaps they’ll let you extend your stay. If not, I can talk to Jimin—”

“No, Tae, it’s okay. I’ll figure something out. Don’t worry about me. Just take care of Hayun, make sure she’s okay...as okay as she can be, at least. Fuck.” The last word comes out choked, and you gnash your teeth on the inside of your cheek to keep from letting the angry tears out. You have no right to be angry. Hell, you’re not even sure why you’re angry. It just seems like the easiest emotion to feel right now, the only one that doesn’t leave you feeling like your world is slowly imploding.

“Hey,” Taehyung says, bringing one of his big hands up to cup the side of your face. His thumb prods at the swell of your cheek, causing you to release the tension in your jaw. “Hayun isn’t the only one I’m worried about here.”

“I’m fine—I will be fine,” you amend. “I promise. I think I’m just feeling overwhelmed. I’m mad at myself for ruining Hayun’s big day. I can’t believe this is happening at all. This…this just doesn’t happen. This is the kind of shit you read about in books, it’s not supposed to be real life.”

And there it is, you surmise—the truth of the matter. None of what’s happened makes sense. It honestly belongs on the pages of a book or in a movie script, not in your real life. It still feels surreal. If it weren’t for the subtle, lingering ache you instinctively know is associated with finding your true mate but not allowing yourself to fully accept it, you’d think this was all some elaborate party trick or impractical joke.

Taehyung smiles at you, but the unease in his eyes can’t be masked that easily. “I’m not sure what to say or what to do. You’re right. This isn’t a situation I think anyone was prepared for or ever thought possible, actually. But, here we are…and we have to face it the best way we can.” He pauses for a moment, looking thoughtful. “I'll tell you what: I’ll text Jimin—he’s a good guy, I think you’ll enjoy his company—and ask him to meet you in the lounge. Have a few drinks, wind down, and try to relax as best you can.”

“Sure,” you say lamely, trying to muster up at least a little bit of enthusiasm.

“That’s my girl.” Taehyung offers you another smile, this one not so tense. “Here, I have something for you.” He fishes into his pant pocket and produces a familiar thin silver chain, a tiny crescent moon dangling near one end.

The sight has your spine straightening. “Right, of course.” You quickly thumb open the clasp on the bracelet around your wrist, letting it fall from your skin for the first time since you put it on when Hayun gave it to you all those years ago. It never felt right to take it off…not until now.

Taehyung helps you swap the bracelet with the one in his hand. The metal feels cold against your skin and you immediately miss the subtle fragrance of Hayun’s scent clinging to your wrist. Though, you suppose that’s what has gotten you both into this mess to begin with. Taehyung explains in soft words how Jungkook explained to Hayun about the scent mix-up with the bracelets—such a silly, seemingly insignificant thing…the catalyst to spark such a colossal moment.

“I’m going to get on the road with Hayun, but I’ll call you as soon as we get to her place and check in on you, okay?”

Sitting at the bar with Jungkook’s best friend seemed like a good idea when Taehyung first presented it to you. But, at the time, you weren’t connecting the dots that Jimin was Jungkook’s best friend. He was just Jimin, the guy that just so happened also to be part of the wedding party that you had met in passing briefly, but he seemed like a good enough person. Now, however, you feel all the awkward tension radiating right between your shoulder blades, emphasized by the silence lingering between the two of you.

You traded in your lilac dress for jeans and a light silk blouse, canvas slip-ons in place of your slippers, yet no matter how comfortable you know your clothing is, you can’t shake the prickling discomfort eating away at the back of your neck.

“Want another?” Jimin asks, nodding to your mostly watered-down rum and coke. It’s barely late afternoon, and as much as Taehyung’s suggestion of a drink sounded like just what you needed, you’ve found yourself not in the mood to drink after all.

“Um, nah. I’m okay, thanks.”

“Cool. Okay. I’ll be right back.” Jimin drums his fingers on the tabletop and pops his lips before giving you a slight head nod and pushing up from his chair.

You watch as he saunters to the long bar, his crescent moon tattoo on the nape of his neck peeking out from the top of his collar, and props his elbows onto the shiny top. His smile is flirty and casual as the bartender, a beautiful woman with long, inky tresses and fiery red lipstick, sidles up in front of him.

They’re too far away for you to hear their conversation, but her tinkling laughter carries across the space, and you know it might be a while before Jimin returns to your table.

Which you’re okay with. Considering you know you’re not exactly pleasant company right now, you don’t blame him one bit. You glance down at your phone, once again reading the last text message Hayun sent you not too long ago.

Eunseo stopped by the lounge around the same time Jimin showed up. If her smile and lingering hug were any indicator, she clearly had a thing for him. She gave you a small wave goodbye before giving Jimin another hug and heading out. Apparently, she was going to follow Taehyung and Hayun back to Hayun and Jungkook’s place to help Hayun with whatever she needed over the next few days.

Does it hurt that your best friend is relying on someone else, her new best friend? Yes. Do you also understand why? Also, yes, but that doesn’t make the sting hurt any less.

You’re just about to give up and retreat back to your room, which the front desk still hasn’t given you a definitive answer about whether or not your stay can be extended while you wait for Tae, when a shadow falls across your table a second before.

“Do you mind if I sit?” Jungkook asks in a low voice.

He fidgets, threading and unthreading his fingers together while he waits for your answer. The suit he had half on earlier is gone, and in its place is a dark pair of jeans, the knees worn fashionably, and an oversized white graphic t-shirt. Black sneakers peek out from the rounded bottoms of his pant legs.

You clear your throat, forcing your eyes away from his and instead on the glass sitting in a puddle of condensation on the table before you. “Oh, I—uh, I was actually about to go. You’re welcome to the table, though. Jimin was—” You cut off, realizing Jimin is no longer in the lounge at all. “Well, he was here,” you add with a frown.

Jungkook scratches a hand across the back of his neck and gives you a hesitant smile. “Yeah, he texted me. He went…well, that doesn’t matter. Could we, um…can we talk?”

“Yes.” The response is out of your mouth before he even finishes asking. “Please, I think I’d like that,” you say, nodding toward the open seat across from you.

A shaky breath rattles from Jungkook as he eases into the empty seat. “Have you talked to Hayun at all?” he asks after a moment’s hesitation.

“A text message, but that’s all. I’m not sure she wants to talk to me right now.” Needing something to do with your hands, you trace a finger along the edge of the water pooled around the bottom of your glass and use your other to poke more drops on the side of your cup, making them race down to join the growing puddle.

Jungkook nods, his lips pursing thoughtfully. “She told me what happened last night. Her confession.” That draws your attention back to him, and you wait, fingers still on the glass, intent on hearing what he says next. “I thought I’d be angrier finding out the woman I’ve been with for years—the woman I was hours away from marrying—had cheated on me…but I’m not. For the life of me, I’m not mad at her…even though I know I should be.”

“How do you feel?”

Maybe it’s none of your business, but you have to ask.

Blowing out a breath, Jungkook slides one of his hands across the table and, giving you plenty of time to protest or pull away, slowly slides his fingers between yours, effectively joining his hand with yours. It’s the first time hand-holding has felt so intimate yet wholly innocent.

“Relieved, I think,” he finally says. “Grateful, maybe? Hayun was hurt. As she has every right to be, but she said she also felt relief, too. I think, as much as she said she loved me, she was still holding back even in the end.” With a rueful shake of his head, he tacks on, “We were just a disaster waiting to happen, held together only by the thin chain of a bracelet. We would have shattered eventually.”

Jungkook’s eyes drop to where your fingers are entwined with his, trailing up to your wrist to land on the object he just spoke of.

“I’m relieved, too,” you whisper. Your eyes meet his as he glances up, and you’re instantly captivated.

This is the first time you’ve allowed yourself to really study Jungkook. His hair is tousled like he’d been running his hands through it for hours. You suppose he probably had been and wonder if that’s one of his nervous ticks.

The bow of his lips is prominent and draws your eyes. Your gaze lingers on his lips, making small mental notes at everything you see, like the tiny beauty mark under his bottom lip. His straight nose leads you to his expressive eyes, so dark and full of secrets you want to be privy to.

To say Jungkook is handsome would be a gross understatement. You’re not sure if it’s the fact he’s your true mate or just simply a gorgeous being, but he is pleasing to the eyes, that’s for sure.

You mentally kick yourself for thinking such thoughts about your best friend’s almost-husband after everything that has just happened. It’s not in good taste to entertain these thoughts so soon, right? True mate or not.

Yet, you can’t shove those thoughts away completely.

“Where did you go just now?” Jungkook asks, tilting his head and studying you intently.

Not wanting to explain yourself and the thoughts you were just having, you choose to ask him a question instead. “So, what now?”

You’re thankful Jungkook doesn’t push you to answer. He shifts in his seat and withdraws his fingers from between yours.

“I think we start with…” he trails off, a playful smile tugging up the side of his mouth as he holds the hand he pulled back in the air in front of you in offering. “Hi, I’m Jungkook.”

For the first time in what feels like forever, you smile. A laugh escapes you, and you instantly feel a thousand times lighter with that simple action.

As you take his hand back into yours, allowing yourself to truly savor the feel of his skin against yours, you realize that no matter what happens with Hayun or the fact that you live thousands of miles apart from Jungkook…everything is going to be okay and maybe you wouldn’t have ignored Taehyung’s text after all.

🥀🥀🥀

Jungkook, 3 months later

The flight was long but worth it. Jungkook stretches as he climbs out of the Uber he took from the airport. You would have picked him up. In fact, you are supposed to pick him up…just, not until next week. He decided to surprise you by coming early. He hopes you don’t mind.

Time seemed to drag to a near stand-still following that fateful day at the bed and breakfast where he was so sure he’d be joining his life with Hayun’s officially. No one could have anticipated what actually went down that day. But, in the end, he and Hayun parted ways on pleasant terms, and it’s actually thanks to her that he’s here right now, a week early.

Jungkook was worried that with everything that happened, yours and Hayun’s friendship might suffer. But, surprisingly—and thankfully—you guys have been getting on great. Hayun has been looking at work prospects in Thailand but, from what you’ve told Jungkook, is planning to visit you and Taehyung for Christmas.

It’s been three months, and not a day has gone by that Jungkook hasn’t talked to you in some capacity. From the moment he offered to be your ride to the airport, and you agreed, he’s thought about nothing other than getting on a plane and following you. The draw to you is just that strong.

You’ve expressed similar feelings, already having planned a return trip to Seoul next month. Neither Jungkook nor you have really talked about what the future holds or how to even begin to navigate it. But Jungkook hopes that during the week he is here, you can both begin to figure that out.

Giddiness makes his tattooed fingers shake as he reaches out and grasps the brass knocker on your door. He gives it a rap against the thick wood and waits. Jungkook counts the breaths as his anticipation rises. It’s only three and a half exhales before he hears the soft pad of your feet on the other side of the door.

Jungkook can imagine you pressing up onto your tip toes in order to peer through the peephole. He’d pay money to be able to see the look on your face when you see it’s him. Not being able to see your face doesn’t take away from the dopamine rush he gets when the sound of your surprised squeal sounds through the door.

“Jungkook!” Your shout is followed by the frantic sound of you disengaging the locks on your door before you swing it open and launch yourself at him. “What the fuck are you doing here? Oh, my gods! Why didn’t you tell me? You’re here!”

It feels good to laugh, but it feels even better to have you in his arms finally. The brief embrace he shared with you at the airport when he dropped you off was not enough and is what drove him to try and come sooner than planned.

Jungkook savors the warmth of your soft body pressed against his, your arms tight around his neck. Running one of his hands up your spine, he clasps the back of your neck and uses his hold there to angle your head away from his neck so he can look you in the face.

“Surprise,” he whispers. “I couldn’t wait any longer.”

You sigh dreamily, your eyes fluttering closed for a second like you’re savoring the feeling of being in his arms. “Pleasant surprise,” you murmur with a smile on your face.

Jungkook can’t help himself. He wants so badly to know if your smile tastes as good as he thinks it will. The press of his lips against yours causes you to melt against him, a throaty sound escaping around the intrusion of his tongue as he works it between your lips.

“Your taste,” he groans, forcing his mouth away from yours before the allure of you can drive him completely mad. Who is he kidding? He’s already there. “I need more.”

🥀🥀🥀

Those words do something to you.

I need more.

They echo the thoughts you’ve been harboring for the last three months. You’ve ached with those words, desperately willing yourself to be patient and let it happen when it’s meant to happen.

But, fuck, it feels so good to have him in your arms, to have his mouth brushing against yours. He tastes divine, a warm sweetness that compliments the musk of his scent that is slowly wrapping itself around you.

“Take me. Take it all,” you urge, completely baring yourself to him, body, mind, and soul. “I’m yours.”

It’s a frenzy, the frantic discarding of clothing. Your fingers work to free him of his jeans while also helping him with the criss-cross straps of your lounging romper. You don’t care that you’re still standing by your front door, bared down to your underwear. The only thing you’re focusing on now is how Jungkook holds you at arm's length and drinks you in from head to toe.

“You…are…everything.” The way he whispers those words crawls under your skin, rooting itself deep in your being. You feel sexy…desired, and unbelievably empty—your body clenches, the ache deep between your thighs. You’ve never been so turned on from just taking your clothes off before, from whispered words and a heated look.

Jungkook allows you to undress him as slow or as fast as you want. You try to take your time and savor every inch of skin you expose. But, you can barely contain yourself when you get to his jeans, shoving them unceremoniously down his thighs with your eyes locked on the many planes and angles of his toned chest and stomach.

Your fingers ghost over his skin, eliciting goosebumps in their wake as you explore the smooth and lush expanse of his shoulders and down his arms. Without needing to say anything more, he gathers you into his arms and covers your mouth with his once more.

It’s a miracle you make it to your bedroom. But, seeing Jungkook sprawled out on your bed is a sight you’ll never forget, with his lowered lids and bottom lip caught between his teeth. You want to taste every inch of him, from the tips of his ears down to the defined muscles of his calves.

Now, though, your gaze focuses on the front of his tented boxer briefs. The dark grey material has darkened even further, where you can see the distinct outline of the head of his cock. Saliva pools in your mouth.

You crawl on the bed, knees slotting between his, your hands on either side of his hips. With your eyes locked on his, you lean down and mouth gently at the wetness. You moan at the flavor of him, your tongue peeking out to seek more.

“Fuck,” you curse. “You taste so good.”

Jungkook lets out a quick breath. “You can’t say shit like that, baby girl. You’re going to make me lose it.” He flicks his eyes up to the ceiling, his lips moving like he’s sending up a silent prayer, before looking back down at you. “You have maybe three seconds before I can’t hold back any longer and tear that ass up.”

You chuckle softly, pouting out your lips in a faux sullen manner. “Yes, sir.”

That earns a growl from Jungkook that has heat racing down your spine as you hook your fingers into the band of his Calvin Klein’s and pull them down. He lifts his hips, helping you free him from their confines.

His cock stands so pretty before you, the full heft bobbing against his belly, smearing a pearl of precum against his golden skin. You dive in, licking at the sticky mess before taking the tip between your lips and lavishing your tongue over his slit.

Jungkook fists the sheets, a litany of curses falling from his lips. “Please,” he chokes.

You keep your eyes locked on his as you inch your way down his length, your jaw forcing itself wider to accommodate as much of him as you can. The blunt head of his cock presses against the back of your throat. You take a steadying breath in through your nose before forcing yourself a little further until your throat constricts around him and you have to pull back.

The second your mouth leaves his cock, saliva stringing from your lips to his tip, Jungkook grabs you and hauls you up over him. You laugh, loving the heat emanating from his body as yours covers his.

“What are you doing?” you gasp.

His strong hands land on your hips and tangle in the band of your panties. “I need these off. Please. I need you. I want to feel you…be inside you.”

You want that, too, you realize, your body already primed and begging for it. The sweet, fragrant notes of your arousal saturate the air, mixing with Jungkook’s to paint a picture of hedonism and wanton desires.

The rest of your clothes come off, your bra and panties are tossed to the side, leaving you utterly bare to him. Your inner thighs slide like velvet over his hips as you move your body against his until you can feel the press of the head of his cock against your entrance.

You wrap a hand around his base, angling him perfectly. It’s a slow descent into madness, the lowering of your body onto his. His eyes bore into yours, pouring out everything that has been building to this moment, this pinnacle that will forever throttle you onto a different path for your future—with him. You can feel every perfect inch slide along your walls as they adjust and welcome him. It’s like sliding home; he is the perfect fit for your body, filling you completely.

The pace you set, at first, is languid. An easy rise and fall of your hips as you both learn the body of the other. Jungkook’s hands mold around your breasts, his thumbs caressing over the pert points of your nipples.

“You feel so good,” you tell him, emphasizing your words with a generous roll of your hips. “So much better than I imagined.”

“You imagined it often?” he asks, a teasing tone to his words.

With the amount of teasing photos and videos you’ve shared with each other over the last few weeks, he knows you have. You can tell he’s just giving you a hard time. That’s fine, because you can…

Jungkook throws his head back as you arch yours, letting his cock hit that special place inside that has you both seeing stars. “Fuck!” His hands drop to your hips, landing with a satisfying smack. His grip tightens, dimpling the supple flesh around his fingers. “Can I knot you?” he asks with a breathless moan. You’ve never taken an alpha’s knot. The idea has your body pulsing around his, flooding slick onto his pelvis as you continue to roll your hips. “Fuck, baby girl, do you like that idea? You want to take my knot like a good girl?”

You can’t even form a coherent thought, much less answer him. The only thing that comes out of your mouth is a panting keen, your chin jerking up and down as you frantically nod your want.

Jungkook braces his feet against the mattress and uses his grip on your hips as leverage to thrust upward, sending you forward onto your hands. He’s relentless, pounding into you from below to the point your eyes roll back, and you have to squeeze them shut. Tiny pinpricks of light burst behind your lids as your body coils tighter than ever before.

You cry out as he sends you over the edge, your body careening into an unfathomable abyss of pleasure. The sounds coming from around his cock as it pounds into you are slick and obscene, debauched yet wholly satisfying. 

“Alpha, need your knot,” you mewl, your lips finding the triskelion tattoo over Jungkook’s left pec muscle. You nibble at it, your teeth sinking softly into the skin.

“Oh, baby, fuck…fuck…Fuuuckkk!” Jungkook shouts, the sound turning into a guttural snarl as his body goes primal.

He seats himself completely inside of you with one final, deliberate thrust, and then you can feel the swell of his knot capture within you. It hurts, your pleasure turning into a moment of pain and panic. You squirm, trying to lift your hips from his, but the clasp of his hands on your body won’t let you go far. You whine, “J-Jungkook.”

“I know, baby girl, I know. Relax. Let your body do what it needs to do.”

It’s like those words unlock some inner Omega part of your brain, and suddenly you feel your body rush with endorphins and dopamine as it accepts the thick jets of his cum now flooding in. Like administering a drug, it’s such a fast transition that you feel lightheaded and giddy, sheepish and almost silly over your moment of panic.

“Gods, that feels so…good.” You wiggle in his arms, gasping as his knot pulls tight. You want more, need more of that feeling…need more of his cum. “More, Alpha, please.”

Jungkook pants, a tired smile on his face. You can feel it when his cock pulses inside you, dribbling even more liquid heat into your body in answer to your plea. “That’s my pretty girl,” Jungkook coos, brushing a hand across your forehead. “You’re so beautiful taking my knot, full of my cum.” He curses softly, reverently, and another gush of heat fills your body. “I’m going to take such good care of you. I swear it.”

You fall into a half-sleep, content and sated as you are. There are no worries about the future, nor the past. You are happy…all thanks to a pair of golden cufflinks.

◅ Back to Main Master List ©️   2024-11-05 ColorMePurplex2

[mostlysignssomeportents]

You should be using an RSS reader

On OCTOBER 23 at 7PM, I'll be in DECATUR, GEORGIA, presenting my novel THE BEZZLE at EAGLE EYE BOOKS.

No matter how hard we all wish it were otherwise, the sad fact is that there aren't really individual solutions to systemic problems. For example: your personal diligence in recycling will have no meaningful impact on the climate emergency.

I get it. People write to me all the time, they say, "What can I change about my life to fight enshittification, or, at the very least, to reduce the amount of enshittification that I, personally, experience?"

It's frustrating, but my general answer is, "Join a movement. Get involved with a union, with EFF, with the FSF. Tell your Congressional candidate to defend Lina Khan from billionaire Dem donors who want her fired. Do something systemic."

There's very little you can do as a consumer. You're not going to shop your way out of monopoly capitalism. Now that Amazon has destroyed most of the brick-and-mortar and digital stores out of business, boycotting Amazon often just means doing without. The collective action problem of leaving Twitter or Facebook is so insurmountable that you end up stuck there, with a bunch of people you love and rely on, who all love each other, all hate the platform, but can't agree on a day and time to leave or a destination to leave for and so end up stuck there.

I've been experiencing some challenging stuff in my personal life lately and yesterday, I just found myself unable to deal with my usual podcast fare so I tuned into the videos from the very last XOXO, in search of uplifting fare:

https://www.youtube.com/@xoxofest

I found it. Talks by Dan Olson, Cabel Sasser, Ed Yong and many others, especially Molly White:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MTaeVVAvk-c

Molly's talk was so, so good, but when I got to her call to action, I found myself pulling a bit of a face:

But the platforms do not exist without the people, and there are a lot more of us than there are of them. The platforms have installed themselves in a position of power, but they are also vulnerable…

Are the platforms really that vulnerable? The collective action problem is so hard, the switching costs are so high – maybe the fact that "there's a lot more of us than there are of them" is a bug, not a feature. The more of us there are, the thornier our collective action problem and the higher the switching costs, after all.

And then I had a realization: the conduit through which I experience Molly's excellent work is totally enshittification-proof, and the more I use it, the easier it is for everyone to be less enshittified.

This conduit is anti-lock-in, it works for nearly the whole internet. It is surveillance-resistant, far more accessible than the web or any mobile app interface. It is my secret super-power.

It's RSS.

RSS (one of those ancient internet acronyms with multiple definitions, including, but not limited to, "Really Simple Syndication") is an invisible, automatic way for internet-connected systems to public "feeds." For example, rather than reloading the Wired homepage every day and trying to figure out which stories are new (their layout makes this very hard to do!), you can just sign up for Wired's RSS feed, and use an RSS reader to monitor the site and preview new stories the moment they're published. Wired pushes about 600 words from each article into that feed, stripped of the usual stuff that makes Wired nearly impossible to read: no 20-second delay subscription pop-up, text in a font and size of your choosing. You can follow Wired's feed without any cookies, and Wired gets no information about which of its stories you read. Wired doesn't even get to know that you're monitoring its feed.

I don't mean to pick on Wired here. This goes for every news source I follow – from CNN to the New York Times. But RSS isn't just good for the news! It's good for everything. Your friends' blogs? Every blogging platform emits an RSS feed by default. You can follow every one of them in your reader.

Not just blogs. Do you follow a bunch of substackers or other newsletters? They've all got RSS feeds. You can read those newsletters without ever registering in the analytics of the platforms that host them. The text shows up in black and white (not the sadistic, 8-point, 80% grey-on-white type these things all default to). It is always delivered, without any risk of your email provider misclassifying an update as spam:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/10/10/dead-letters/

Did you know that, by default, your email sends information to mailing list platforms about your reading activity? The platform gets to know if you opened the message, and often how far along you've read in it. On top of that, they get all the private information your browser or app leaks about you, including your location. This is unbelievably gross, and you get to bypass all of it, just by reading in RSS.

Are your friends too pithy for a newsletter, preferring to quip on social media? Unfortunately, it's pretty hard to get an RSS feed from Insta/FB/Twitter, but all those new ones that have popped up? They all have feeds. You can follow any Mastodon account (which means you can follow any Threads account) via RSS. Same for Bluesky. That also goes for older platforms, like Tumblr and Medium. There's RSS for Hacker News, and there's a sub-feed for the comments on every story. You can get RSS feeds for the Fedex, UPS and USPS parcels you're awaiting, too.

Your local politician's website probably has an RSS feed. Ditto your state and national reps. There's an RSS feed for each federal agency (the FCC has a great blog!).

Your RSS reader lets you put all these feeds into folders if you want. You can even create automatic folders, based on keywords, or even things like "infrequently updated sites" (I follow a bunch of people via RSS who only update a couple times per year – cough, Danny O'Brien, cough – and never miss a post).

Your RSS reader doesn't (necessarily) have an algorithm. By default, you'll get everything as it appears, in reverse-chronological order.

Does that remind you of anything? Right: this is how social media used to work, before it was enshittified. You can single-handedly disenshittify your experience of virtually the entire web, just by switching to RSS, traveling back in time to the days when Facebook and Twitter were more interested in showing you the things you asked to see, rather than the ads and boosted content someone else would pay to cram into your eyeballs.

Now, you sign up to so many feeds that you're feeling overwhelmed and you want an algorithm to prioritize posts – or recommend content. Lots of RSS readers have some kind of algorithm and recommendation system (I use News, which offers both, though I don't use them – I like the glorious higgeldy-piggeldy of the undifferentiated firehose feed).

But you control the algorithm, you control the recommendations. And if a new RSS reader pops up with an algorithm you're dying to try, you can export all the feeds you follow with a single click, which will generate an OPML file. Then, with one click, you can import that OPML file into any other RSS reader in existence and all your feeds will be seamlessly migrated there. You can delete your old account, or you can even use different readers for different purposes.

You can access RSS in a browser or in an app on your phone (most RSS readers have an app), and they'll sync up, so a story you mark to read later on your phone will be waiting for you the next time you load up your reader in a browser tab, and you won't see the same stories twice (unless you want to, in which case you can mark them as unread).

RSS basically works like social media should work. Using RSS is a chance to visit a utopian future in which the platforms have no power, and all power is vested in publishers, who get to decide what to publish, and in readers, who have total control over what they read and how, without leaking any personal information through the simple act of reading.

And here's the best part: every time you use RSS, you bring that world closer into being! The collective action problem that the publishers and friends and politicians and businesses you care about is caused by the fact that everyone they want to reach is on a platform, so if they leave the platform, they'll lose that community. But the more people who use RSS to follow them, the less they'll depend on the platform.

Unlike those largely useless, performative boycotts of widely used platforms, switching to RSS doesn't require that you give anything up. Not only does switching to RSS let you continue to follow all the newsletters, webpages and social media accounts you're following now, it makes doing so better: more private, more accessible, and less enshittified.

Switching to RSS lets you experience just the good parts of the enshitternet, but that experience is delivered in manner that the new, good internet we're all dying for.

My own newsletter is delivered in fulltext via RSS. If you're reading this as a Mastodon or Twitter thread, on Tumblr or on Medium, or via email, you can get it by RSS instead:

https://pluralistic.net/feed/

Don't worry about which RSS reader you start with. It literally doesn't matter. Remember, you can switch readers with two clicks and take all the feeds you've subscribed to with you! If you want a recommendation, I have nothing but praise for Newsblur, which I've been paying $2/month for since 2011 (!):

https://newsblur.com/

Subscribing to feeds is super-easy, too: the links for RSS feeds are invisibly embedded in web-pages. Just paste the URL of a web-page into your RSS reader's "add feed" box and it'll automagically figure out where the feed lives and add it to your subscriptions.

It's still true that the new, good internet will require a movement to overcome the collective action problems and the legal barriers to disenshittifying things. Almost nothing you do as an individual is going to make a difference.

But using RSS will! Using RSS to follow the stuff that matters to you will have an immediate, profoundly beneficial impact on your own digital life – and it will appreciably, irreversibly nudge the whole internet towards a better state.

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/16/keep-it-really-simple-stupid/#read-receipts-are-you-kidding-me-seriously-fuck-that-noise

[jennywebbyart]

A super and A Luthor. Destined to hate each other but fell in love.

(This is a redraw from a drawing I did back in 2020) 

[criminalamnesia]

simon’s been having dreams since you left.

horrendous, sickeningly sweet dreams, all of you. it’s always you. reminding him of something he’s not sure he ever really had— something like a mirage, there one minute and gone the next.

but you’d been gone for a while, really. since you’d woken up in that infirmary bed, hatred and terror in your eyes every time you looked at him.

perhaps it’s been longer than— probably since they had you in that damn chair. maybe even before, when whispers of a traitor slipped into their minds and dug its claws in. all signs pointing to you.

most of the dreams start like this:

he wakes to the sound of birdsong. sweet little chirps that sound just outside the window you insist be left open during the springtime.

he’d conceded, not daring to tell you no. it was always yes with you, which surprised him. yes, nonetheless.

he gives a soft groan as his eyes begin to crack open. you’re curled into him, your head resting atop his inked arm. the limb is completely numb, but he doesn’t dare to move it. he’s content to lay here and watch you, because this is when he feels he truly has you.

(but it’s a dream, he realizes when he wakes. and he thinks he never really had you— a destination he desired but never reached. he doesn’t have you anymore, and he never will again.)

the fragrant smell of your favorite flowers, which fill the flower beds surrounding the little blue cottage, wafts in through the window. vibrant pinks and yellows that came after days of hard labor— simon planting each little seed and tending to it until it blossomed. he refused to let you help. said it was his gift to you.

a token of his love.

(even though you’ve long since gone from the little blue cottage, he still labors over those flowers every growing season. a gift to you, that you’d never see the longevity of. that you’d never known was a labor of love.)

(he hated that the first time you’d laid eyes on the cottage, he hadn’t been with you. that you’d been forced to go there— that they (he) had forced you out.)

you curl deeper into his side, your hair tickling his arm. he watches you sleep, your eyelids fluttering as you dream. he can tell it’s a good one by the way your nose twitches and a grin spreads across your lips.

(too often, he wakes to your screams of terror. the screams you had loosed under his tortuous hand. no longer are the nightmares that plague you ones of the perils of your job. now, they’re memories of what he’s done.)

(he wonders if you still wake up screaming. he wonders if you wish he was there to calm you back to sleep, like he’d done countless times before.)

(he wonders if he is what you see in your nightmares now.)

he shifts his body slightly. you stir, eyes still tightly shut as sunlight beams through the airy sage green curtains. again, he couldn’t say no to you.

especially when you had given him the reason behind them. “I want to spend every minute together. just us. every moment out of service, I want.”

it was always yes with you.

“good morning, si,” you grumble, voice still thick from sleep.

“did I wake you?” he whispers, lips pressing to the hair atop your head.

“birdsong outside did,” you reply, a yawn splitting your mouth wide. his free hand finds your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

“told ya we should shut the window, love.”

it’s here when things start to differ.

in the good dreams, you look up at him with a grin. the pair of you spend the next hour in bed, drifting in and out of sleep and whispering mundane thoughts to each other. him holding you tightly, swearing he can feel your warmth next to him even when he inevitably wakes.

the bad dreams are more common.

when you look up at him, he sees one of two faces. the first face looks at him with the same expression you’d had back in price’s office, before you had slammed a fist into his jaw.

it’s heartbroken and it’s tired. it’s hateful and scared and ashamed.

(he still thinks it’s beautiful.)

the second face is battered and beaten and bruised. it’s the face you’d worn when in the chair, tortured by his hand. swollen and discolored. bloody. broken.

but most of all, it’s betrayed.

and that jolts him awake. but he doesn’t mind the bad dreams. doesn’t mind any dreams, now.

because they’re always about you. about his greatest failure, his greatest love. he sleeps so he can see you because it’s all he gets now.

he doesn’t know where you went after the cottage, none of them do. you wanted it that way. he wouldn’t dare seek you out. he owed you that much.

so he sleeps.

and he dreams of you.

here’s a little drabble about simon after reader leaves at the end of traitor. definitely inspired by ‘sailor song’. hope you all enjoy :)

p.s. I hate tumblr bc I had written this and tried to save it and the app crashed. so this is my poor attempt of recreating a work I was proud of :(

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE