#especially the ones who write Kim’s pov

[itastelikefilm]

[jeonsweetpea]

The Moon Knows Our Secrets (2) - Final

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

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

rating: explicit

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

word count: 17.7k

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

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

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

| Part 1 | Part 2

Six Months Later…

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

Maybe it’s a client?

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

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

“Hello?”

“Is this Miss [Y/N]?”

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

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

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

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

Wait. He’s an officer now? 

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

“Yes, of course. He’s a hybrid.”

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

“A hybrid. Do you… know him?”

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

“How?”

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

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

A buzz from your phone snaps you from your thoughts.

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

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

*Bzz*

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook’s Point of View

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yikes. That’s a doozy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey. Are you okay?”

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

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

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

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

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Your Point of View

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

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

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

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

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

“And you’re a cage fighter?”

“What’s it to you?”

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

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

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

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

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

As for now? You’re not sure. 

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

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

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

“I’m sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Technically, you touched me first.”

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve had some free time.”

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

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

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

“Jungkook, wait up!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kim Taehyung.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No. He keeps texting me though.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you going to continue fighting?” 

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

“You don’t need money.”

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

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

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

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

“Well… do you have to box here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What did he say?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook…”

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

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

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

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

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

You shake your head. “Jungkook, please.”

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

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

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

“No. You’ve done enough.”

“Jungkook—”

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

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

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

“I… I don’t know. I thought…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook’s Point of View

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

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

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

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

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

Shit. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Make your point.”

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

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

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

“No one has to know.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

“Where is she?”

“I see she’s important to you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My apologies. I meant beautiful women.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re lying!”

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

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

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

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

Your Point of View

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gasp. “I get a prize?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s going to pay… She’s going to…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My necklace…”

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

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

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

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

“Were you awake this whole time?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I thought I lost you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stay.”

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

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

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

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

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

You match his volume. “Why?”

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

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

“Randomly?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

“Do you want me to help—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook’s Point Of View

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

“You… love me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook, let me go!”

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re a bit late. Put it down.”

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

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

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

Your Point of View

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s a full moon…”

“Yeah. And?”

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

“Is this the spell you used?!”

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

“Did you see the fine print?”

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

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

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

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

“Gee, thanks for the bode of confidence.”

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

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

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

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

“Honey… where’s Jungkook?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His face is unreadable until you risk a step forward. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now you’re pissed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook’s Point of View

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

“Oh my god…”

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

“No… please.” 

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That feels nice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t,” she orders. “I want it on.”

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

“It’s hot on you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It is to me. I love you too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook—”

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

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

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

She nods. “... Red.”

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

Your Point of View

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“If it’s too much?”

“I say red.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you okay?” he asks. 

“Yes.”

“Good girl.”

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

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

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

“Get up.”

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

“Jungkook!”

“Hold onto the cage.”

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

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

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

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

“We’re not done yet.”

“I never want you to be. Use me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s this?” you ask.

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

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

“Hey…” 

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

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

“Anything.”

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

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

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

“Mark me. Make me yours for good.”

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

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Geez… what did you two do?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m touched!”

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

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

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

“That’ll be us someday,” he says.

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

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

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

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

[casperslibrary]

{Finnick Odair x Reader} To Survive The Ocean, First You Must Swim- CHAPTER FIVE - Finnicks POV

[After losing her sister to the games and her father to the ocean, her best friend (and supposed love of her life) Emery saves her. Now, as they go into the hunger games together, she is determined to do whatever it takes to save him. But when her mentor ends up being a man she has learnt to hate, she can't help but be frustrated, especially when she realises how little she really hates him, and how much she actually needs him.]

A/N: there may be minor inaccuracies throughout the story as it’s been a hot minute since i’ve read the hunger games. Anyways I had more fun writing Finnick's POV than expected, though if you couldn’t tell it was quite hard to leave the MC nameless and lacking any distinct physical attributes. Also I’m sorry that all of the povs are in first person- but it's easier dialogue wise when trying to make the mc lack a name. Btw I plan on making a masterlist when I have the time + once I get my Ao3 invitation I’ll also upload my fic on there! I need filler chapters so my inbox is always open for suggestions! Anyways this chapter superrrrrr long lmao

chapter four | all chapters

WARNINGS: MINOR CHARACTER DEATH | MENTIONS OF SEX TRAFFICKING | MENTIONS OF ATTEMPTED SUICIDE | SEXUAL THEMES | DEPRESSION | RUDE LANGUAGE | HEAVY THEMES  | FINNICK PINES A LOT

[Finnick POV]

As the tributes ride the chariots I am driven to the training centre. Inside the car is a screen showing the parade.

“Our tributes look so good this year, don’t you think? Dara is so much better than who we used to have, you know the man whose only idea of style is being naked?” Sona says to me, and I nod in reply. Cornelia’s sister, who is known to me as Bugs due to Cornelia’s constant use of the nickname, smiles and waves with one hand and holds Emery with the other. As beautiful as she looks, the moment was tainted by her hand in Emery’s. I try not to think about it, instead focusing on her face, her smile, which suddenly falters. Turning her head she finds comfort in Emery. I frown, admittedly, I was jealous. After hearing Cornelia talk about her so much, it was hard for me to not think highly of her. And after I stuck to the promise of keeping an eye out on Bugs, I couldn’t help but start to notice things about her, things I never bothered to notice about anyone. The way she always stood her ground, and didn’t let anyone sway her. How she always stood up for the weak in school, even getting into a few fights with bullies. I chuckle as I remember her throwing a rock at Kim Lain. He was a dick - he deserved it. I noticed how strong she was, but also how caring, when she was thirteen she gave her lunch to a frail, younger girl who obviously hadn’t eaten in days, and started packing extra food for her everyday after that. I remember even the small things about Bugs, how she covers her mouth when laughing at things she probably shouldn’t laugh at. How she touches her hair when uncomfortable, or plays with her shirt while she’s waiting for the time to pass. 

I should have gone up and talked to her earlier, I wish I did. Maybe if I had told her it was me who saved her life when she was fourteen we would have gotten closer, and she wouldn’t have been so eager to risk her life when Emery’s name was called. But I didn’t, I had only started selling my body just a few months earlier, and the last thing I needed was another person for Snow to threaten everytime I dared to diverge out of line. So I bit my tongue, watched her from afar, did my best to protect her just as promised, and look where that got us. For fuck sakes I even slept with a worker to keep her name out of the bowl, and she still managed to end up being a tribute.

I briefly consider trying to convince the game makers to kill off Emery, that way she’ll have to at least try to win, but I know I could never do that. I groan and Sona gives me a confused look, but I pay her no mind. She puts a hand up to my shoulder, though I immediately recoil. Sona says no words as she moves her hand away, knowing the cause for my discomfort. She may have been very illusioned by her upbringing in the Capitol, but even she has the heart to know rape is wrong. Sona has a kind soul, and I can imagine in a world where there were no games, no propaganda, she and I could really be close friends. But right now, we don’t exactly see eye to eye on the whole ‘radical take’ that killing children is wrong. But I know that someday she’ll see it. Every year her excitement for the games gets more and more dull, every year her voice gets dimmer reading the names of the children that are to die. One day she will completely learn to hate the games; but I don't know if I want that for her. She’s already in too deep to leave. Ignorance is bliss, as they say.

We get out of the car and enter the training centre, there aren’t any screens in the room we’re in, and I can’t help but be nervous with her out of my sight. I know it’s irrational; being a tribute is probably the safest position to be in up until you’re actually put in the arena, god forbid anything happens to the capital's precious props. But still, my nerves immediately calm down once I see her enter through the grand doors. Sona helps Bugs from the chariot before instantly pulling her into a hug, and I can’t help but laugh at the face she makes. After being released from Sona’s death grip, she turns to look at Emery, and I almost hate myself for the anger that begins to burn. A part of me wishes the roles were reversed, that I was the one she looked at with love and Emery was the one she looked at with spite. I knew she didn’t like me, and while it didn’t take a genius to figure out why, it still hurt. I really tried to make her at least warm up to me, I flirted with her and smiled at her in a way that made other girls melt. But alas, all it seemed to do was irritate her further, out of all the people to be resistant to my charm… Why her?

Her gaze on Emery doesn’t waver, and I can’t stop myself from standing in between them, forcing her to look at me and not him. Realising I need a reason for walking up, I simply congratulate her.

“Good job, princess.”

I know I should probably comment on Emery as well, but I can’t find it in me to care about anyone else. Not when she is standing right here.

We enter the crystal elevator and I can tell that Bugs is star-struck by the view. While I have gotten used to the ride, I think back to the first time I was here, and chuckle as I realise that her sister did the exact same thing. Of course, her sister never even came close to captivating my attention as much as she does. Sona makes some stupid comment on pearls, one that seemed awfully familiar, and Bugs laughs when I tell her the connection.

She laughed.

I told her something, and not only did it not aggravate her, but it actually made her laugh.

Before, the best expression she would give me was a glare, or an eye roll, and even then I was still hooked. But now, I know what it’s like to bring her joy, and holy shit it's addicting.

Fuck, if I wasn’t in deep before, I certainly am now.  

Entering our floor, Bugs quickly goes to her room but Emery hangs around. He shoots me a look, and, as little as I am in the mood for it, I put on my fake face; feigning a calm, unaffected composure. 

“Yes, Em?” I purposefully use the nickname Bugs calls him. Apparently that was the wrong move.

“She doesn’t need you, you know. She has me.” Insecure much? Although I couldn’t really blame him, it was only moments ago that I felt the euphoria of her joy being directed towards me. If I had constant access to it, I wouldn’t be so quick to let it go either. 

“Quite the contrary actually, you need her. She knows it as well considering that was the whole reason she volunteered. Now if I were you, I would consider not picking a fight with me, since we both know that I am the only source of help either of you are going to get in these games.” I walk off, but couldn’t help adding one last comment as I do so. “And by the way, she does need me. That’s how mentoring in these games works.”

I added almost gleefully on the end, the notion of her needing me brought me far greater joy than it should have. Though, in any other circumstances maybe I’d be able to appreciate it more without the sinking feeling of guilt, and more so, the dread of what's to come in these next few weeks. 

Emery huffs past me and I retreat to my room. Quite a familiar one at that, when I am brought to the capital throughout the year this tends to be where I stay. Though in all my time staying here, I have never found myself leaving and slowly drifting towards the quarters for the female tribute. But when I hear screaming, you wouldn’t exactly call the way I moved slow. I run so fast I knock over a decorative plant right outside, though as I am about to barge through the door I stop when I hear what they’re yelling about. Me.

Suddenly feeling the sinful urge to eavesdrop, I hope that Bugs didn’t hear the vase fall.  Though it appears she doesn’t, as she continues what she’s saying without faltering.

“I’m sorry Em… Finnick… he means nothing to me. I do admit I don’t feel as much hatred as I once did for him, but still, I am with you. Forever and always.”

Nothing? Ouch. That one hurt - much more than it should have. There is a whisper I can’t make out before Emery starts speaking.

“I shouldn’t have reacted like that… I just can’t bear the thought of losing you.”

There is a pause before he continues.

“Remember when Finnick won the 65th? How you went on an endless spiral about how it should have been him that was killed and not your sister… I agree with what you said, your sister should have won.”

A knife is shot through my chest. Actually, coming from someone who has been stabbed, it’s worse than that. In fact I’d rather be back in the arena right now than be here listening to this unendurable conversation. But as much as I try, my legs can’t seem to move.

“Do you think so?” Emery says.

“Yes. Finnick should have died, my sister should have lived.”

.

.

.

I don’t know why it hurts so bad… it shouldn’t hurt this bad. Loads of people have wanted me dead, it was only four years ago when I was put in an arena with twenty-three of them. But hearing this come from her… the girl I care about far too much, the only girl whom I can find it in me to care about… only person for that matter… It's far too much to bear. My knees hit the floor and I sit against the wall for God knows how long. Hours maybe. 

Replaying all the memories I have of her over these past few years, I try to find something - anything - that might make me like her less. That could take away this unbearable pain caused by something so small as her words.

Nothing.

There is not one single fucking thing that I do not simply adore about her.

I am only pulled out of my thoughts when Emery opens the door. Quickly trying to come up with an explanation as to what I am doing outside of Bugs room I look up to his face and realise;

He’s not surprised… he knew I was out there this whole time. Bugs may not have heard me knock over that vase but he did. The fucker knew. Emery walks past me saying nothing, but with his smug expression he didn’t need to. That’s why he reminded her of why she hates me… to make sure she doesn’t stop. That’s why he asked her if she still wishes I were dead; to make sure I know that her heart will always belong to him, and never me.

I’ve got to admit, what Emery lacks in physical strength he sure makes up for in manipulative skills. Wasn’t he supposed to be nice? Kind hearted? I suppose the games do affect all of us in the worst ways, especially when someone you love is on the line.

Though whatever the reason for making her say what she did, didn’t change how much her words hurt. Emery was right. He will always be the boy she needs, and I will always be the boy she hates. It killed me to know this, and it killed me to know that even with this knowledge, my feelings for her could never leave. Even after she dies in these games, my heart will still be with her long after she’s gone. Not with me, not with any of my numerous admirers, with her, in her grave.

Slowly, I force myself to get up, and in my room I am almost grateful to hear the phone ring, its shrill noise drowning out my thoughts. Though I quickly realise there is only one person who could be calling this time of night.

“Hello Snow.” I whisper into the landline, trying my best to not show any pain in my voice. Although I am only half paying attention to him as he speaks, my stomach still drops at his words. Tomorrow night I am to meet with a frequenter. He almost makes it out as him doing me a favour. That because it would be so late that none of my mentees would see me leave, and because this particular customer is a valuable sponsor, I should be grateful for him setting this nightmare. I can barely hide the venom on my tongue as I respond to him before hanging up. He is… somewhat right though, this specific guest is in fact a very rich and (if under the right circumstances) very generous sponsor. The fact that this arrangement will benefit Bugs makes me feel a bit better, but only barely. 

Grabbing a rope I head into the lounge area where I pour myself a glass of whiskey. I alternate between drinking the neat drink and creating knots in the rope. Though while this usually efficient routine of tying knots helped me forget about what was coming tomorrow, it barely distracted me from my thoughts about Bugs. And after about an hour of this, whatever cruel deity that controlled our reality decided to take it further by presenting me with all that I want, but can’t have, in the flesh. Hearing a step I turn around to see her staring at me, my beautiful curse as perfect as ever.

“Hey princess.” I try to sound lighthearted, but fail miserably. Bugs doesn’t move, but needing her closer, I motion her to sit next to me.

“I don’t bite.” She obviously is still put off by my presence, I try to come up with a way to calm her, and think back to her excitement of the city view in the clear elevator.

“Actually, I know a better place to go to.” I get up and offer her my hand, and when she gives me hers a fire rushes through me that cannot be extinguished. Now I understand why girls get almost delirious when I get close to them, I think I could pass out at any moment. 

I take her to the elevator, and up the stairs, not letting her go for even a second, as if the moment my hand leaves hers it will never find its way back. It pains me to know this is probably true. But when Bug's hand finally escapes my firm grasp, she makes up for it with the expression on her face. As I stare at her face, dazed by the scenery, I can’t help but think back to her sister doing the exact same thing years ago. Though in all honesty I appreciate the look of joy far more on Bugs face.

The wind starts to pick up, and she shivers. I take in her satin pajamas, they are quite skimpy, surely not able to give her any resistance against the cool of the night. Holding out my sweater, I offer it to her.

“Here.”

“Aren’t you going to be cold?”

I smile and slightly shake my head. Being cold can not even be considered a price to pay for her being comfortable, and besides, her satin shirt is extremely low cut and I feel guilty for looking, the sweater will at least provide some coverage.

“Just take it”

Okay… so maybe I misjudged the idea of more clothing preventing my sinful thoughts. Because as she wears my sweater, I find myself only more turned on. I try to keep my expression neutral as she thanks me - however I'm honestly lucky to not be quite literally drooling at the mouth right now. Though I try my best to push those thoughts away, to be thinking this way of her when she so clearly does not like me… how could I ever consider myself better than my capital admirers? 

Bugs stares at the city lights, and they radiate back onto her perfect face. God I could spend the rest of my life like this, just staring at her, but the voice that’s been taunting me since the moment she was reaped speaks up even louder. ‘This will be one of the last times you get to look at her, before she dies, before she voluntarily kills herself.’ 

I feel my legs start to shake again, my hands as well. I quickly regret leaving my rope in the lounge area. I can’t let her die, I would rather go into the games myself than let her go. There's got to be some way to change her mind? I won’t stop trying to save her, I can’t. I could imagine that even when her heart stops beating I’ll still be fighting for her life. The possibility of her dying, it just seems so unreal to me, it’s a thought so horrid I cannot even process it. 

“Are you really planning on just killing yourself?” But once that question leaves my mouth I quickly talk again because even though I know the answer, I don’t think I can handle it.

“You shouldn’t have volunteered.” 

“Thank you for the great suggestion, Sherlock, do you also have a time machine on you by any chance? Or just your insightful words?” 

I laugh and shake my head, the spite in her voice is one I’m used to, and I’m almost unphased by it. But then I remember why she hates me so much. Her sister. If I could bring Cornelia up, explain to Bugs the reason why I first fought for her in the first place, before I fell for her, maybe she’d change her mind? If not for me then for her sister.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean she told me to protect you, and you sure are making it a hard job.” 

“Who did?”

“Your sister, of course.”

Her confusion is evident, so I continue. Thinking back to this night four years ago as I do.

“Four years ago, her and I were on this exact same roof. All she did was speak of you - I think it must have hurt too much to talk about anything else - anyways she made me promise that if I got out and not her, I would protect you.” I still remember Cornelia’s voice as if it were yesterday.

“I know you’ll win, Finnick, and I am okay with that. Just please promise me one thing, when you get back, protect Bugs. She is so brave, so strong, so kind, and I know that when you meet her you’ll feel the same. My sister is my everything, so promise, just promise me, you’ll make sure she’s safe.”

“Of course I tried my best, when you somehow managed to almost kill yourself, I pulled you out of the water. When you were too scared of swimming to even touch a fishing boat, I… convinced Julia to allow you to only work on land.”

Thinking back to those moments I start to wonder; at what point did I stop protecting Bugs for Cornelia, and instead started protecting her for my own sake? I remember how much it killed me two years ago to find out Bugs tried to kill herself, so it must have been a while. Still I can picture the moment she jumped off that cliff. Although there was a storm and I could have very likely died pulling her out, I didn’t think twice about jumping in after her, though by the time I grabbed her she had already managed to knock herself out. I was so scared that she managed to successfully kill herself. I pinched her cheek on shore, and went in to a hysteric fit of laughter after she groaned in response, probably due to relief rather than there being any actual humour of it all.

When recounting my list of things I have done for her, I purposefully leave out the part where I slept with a worker to get her name out of the reaping bowl. She probably already thinks I’m a whore, and I don’t want to confirm her suspicions. ‘Tomorrow night, 12 am.’ Snow’s voice rings in my mind, and I so desperately want to get it off my chest. Part of me is so ashamed, so scared of what she’ll think of me, but another part of me just wants to let her know that I’m not the slut she thinks I am, at least not willingly. That I don’t want to sleep with the capital girls, or boys for that matter. I know what other people in my district say about me, and I need to show her that they’re wrong. I’m not the person they think I am. The person that she thinks I am.

“I know you hate me, Bugs, and you probably think I’m a whore. I can’t do anything about the hating part but I’m not… a whore. At least not a willing one.”

The words start to spill out before I can stop myself.

“Snow forced me, when a victor is considered desirable, he sells them for their bodies. I don’t get money for my time, I don’t need it, but I do get secrets, sponsorships, favors.”

Bugs stares at me for a second, the shock speaks for itself. Fuck she must think I’m some weak loser. That I won the hunger games with my face and now I open my legs for anybo-

She’s hugging me.

She’s hugging me.

That familiar fire burns through and only brightens when I hug her back. Suddenly, just by holding her, everything is okay. I know nothing has actually gotten better, but just being here, with her, she makes it better. I hold onto her as though if I cling on tight enough, she won’t have to leave, she won’t have to go into the games, I won’t have to lose her. I don’t think of what's to come, I can’t think of it. I can’t lose her. I won’t. I may be selfish, but I won’t let it happen. Bugs is staying alive.

“I’m sorry.” I can barely hear her murmur in my chest, and it all starts pouring out.

“Your sister was brave, you resemble her. I’m sorry she died, I’m sorry I had a part to play in her death. I know you might hate me for it, but please remember I was just a kid, a kid trying to survive. And just because you don’t know my life doesn't make it worth any less.”

And then she does the least expected thing she possibly could have, she starts apologising. I don’t know why, I should be the one apologising to her, begging for her forgiveness and pleading for her to smile at me again, just as she did on the elevator.

“It hurt so much, I was so angry at myself, at everything. Blaming you made it easier. I’m sorry, Finnick.” 

Finnick. This must have been the first time I’ve ever heard her say my name, to my face at least. I look back on earlier, when I called her my curse. She may very well be a curse, giving me the most joy I’ve ever felt all while planning on ripping it away in just a couple of weeks. But I don’t care anymore, whatever pain has been caused by her, her wanting me dead, trying to drown herself, loving another man, planning to die in the arena. It all hurts so bad, but it is nothing compared to how much I care about her, how much her simple presence lights up my life and turns my world upside down in all the right ways. Fuck, I must be a masochist for this, but I wouldn’t trade her, or any emotions that caused by her, for the world. And as Bugs whispers my name, I almost automatically say hers in return, her real name.

I am not letting you die.

[bcbdrums]

I saw the Reddit drama. Please explain why Drakgo is a more interesting ship than KimRon.

first, thanks for the ask! second, whoaaaaaaa i wouldn't presume to label one ship more interesting than another. some people will find ships interesting, others won't.

i'll give a diff example. in my other current hyperfixation, soul eater, my friend adores Ship A while i'm all about Ship B. her ship IS interesting to me! i think those chars are the most shippable in the show, they're basically canon w/o PDA, and they are deeply complex both as individual chars and as a couple.

they're just... not the ones i'm hyperfixated on. doesn't make them uninteresting.

what makes a person's brain and heart grab onto one ship and not another? who can say.

a lack of personal interest in a ship does not make it objectively uninteresting, or worse... and a ship having way more attention than another in fandom doesn't objectively make that ship more interesting, or better.

CAN a person make canonical objective arguments for or against ships? certainly.

let's just grab characters from KP to use as example. Bonnie and Brick. canonically a couple for more than one episode! we do not get a lot of canon info onscreen for them, so most of the interest in them would have to come from fan creations. compare to Kim and Ron, who have infinitely more screentime together, infinitely more individual character development than Bonnie and Brick both as individuals and as a couple...

one could argue that Kim/Ron is more interesting than Brick/Bonnie. there's more to grab from the canon at least. but if a person wants to draw/write/talk at length about Brick/Bonnie? why not!

no reason to be hating on any ship. if it's not your ship, then just...don't engage?? especially if you're against said ship.

now me, personally, i find Drakgo more interesting than Kim/Ron. (altho recent convo with @creatorping got my Kim/Ron juices flowing again). Drakgo just appeal to me more as characters, with their gritty backgrounds, a lot more unknowns to explore, the challenge of two villains developing a mutual trusting relationship so they can have a happily ever after... that just grabs my mind and heart more than the perfect girl and her adorkable boyfriend. it doesn't mean Kim and Ron aren't interesting, cuz ohhhhh they are! mostly post-canon for me because...who ARE they, after high school?? who is Kim other than the student who saves the world? what's she gonna do with her life? and what is Ron gonna do? he absolutely can't go to the same college as her, and she can't ditch a good opportunity to go to a community college with him... my hang-up has always been that Kim wasn't given enough individual development onscreen to do anything interesting with her post-canon. but aforementioned convo with Ping changed my mind, heheh. 😏

in any case, the point... one ship isn't more or less interesting. one ship isn't better or worse than another. it's us, the viewer, who either will or won't be interested.

so as i've always said.... ship and let ship. don't like? don't interact. don't hate on someone else's ships or headcanons or POVs... (reddit...)

and, that's not the same thing as discourse. discussing characters, discussing points of view, interpretations... sharing various headcanons... with willing parties who want to enter into that conversation! THAT is a major part of fandom! but it's all in how one goes about it. and! should people come to disagree about interpretations of characters, also fine!

i think the issue arises when people start to act like... my interpretation is correct OR, my interpretation is the only valid one. when people get up on that horse, that's where the problems arise... it can be tough if you feel like you're the only person WITH a certain POV, but... again, if the folks you're chatting with aren't into it, then find other people. i'm in that boat with some soul eater headcanons, but, that's okay. i don't need to convince everyone else in the fandom in order rto enjoy my thoughts. i'll still talk about them, but, not with the idea of telling anyone my view is the only view. that's the antithesis of what fandom is about. i'll talk about them because i enjoy talking about them, to like-minded folk, and on my own blog which is what a blog is for.

and, idk why it shows up so often in the KP fandom, especially the Drakgo side, that people can't simply say "hey i have this headcanon!" and someone respond with "oh that's neat!" and just. happily co-exist. everyone creating their things, sharing their things. and people will like what they like, as they always have, in every fandom. and if they don't like someone's idea, that's fine too!

but it's not worth fighting about?? it never is! it's just not that important. it's fandom. it's fun. it's our escape. if one feels SO strongly against a concept, or ship, or whatever.... then you don't interact with it. you don't make it your mission to disprove the other person. you don't actively seek out opportunities to hate on a point of view you dislike. that's not how fandom is supposed to be. find your people, and chill with them.

let's all be positive in the various fandom spaces.

i hadn't intended that to be such a rant, but...well, there you have it. sorry it probably was not what you wanted to hear, but yeah. thanks again for the ask!!

[natlacentral]

I'm not gonna post my full write-up, but this was a really enlightening listen and clocks in at about 20 minutes if you want to give it a whirl. Here are a few of my favourite tidbits from Albert Kim and Jabbar Raisani's commentary on the official trailer.

They try to visit lots of locations because Avatar is a road show and they want to show the expansiveness of the world

Kim loved the eco message of the original and wants to convey it in the adaption as well

Raisani says Appa is a core member of the team who they wanted to bring to life as much as any of the humans

"Katara is the character who really recognises Aang for who he is, and that is a symbol of hope. And the return of the Avatar for her means that hope has returned to a world that essentially has lost hope for the last hundred years. She's the first one to see that, and over the course of the season, we're gonna see that message of hope spread throughout the world."

The juxtaposition of Katara's POV and Sokka's POV and their clashing opinions is an important dynamic especially in the beginning of the season and informs who they are as brother and sister and their journey coming together to support Aang.

They chose to choreograph and shoot the first Agni Kai, which they describe as the defining moment of Zuko's life, because you understand a lot more of Zuko's character when you see it in real life.

The Agni Kai goes to the core of Zuko's story. "What did his father really want? Does he want him to succeed and find the Avatar and come back? Is he using him against his sister? What is really required of him or desired of him by his father, and then is he going to do that or is he going to do what he thinks is right?"

Momo is a digital creature. They use a puppet so the actors know what they're doing.

It was important to them that Sokka not just be the butt of the joke but have his own humour

"Despite the burden that all these characters are facing and the fact that the fate of the world rests in their hands, they are just kids, y'know? Aang's a goofy twelve-year-old and Katara and Sokka aren't much older and we wanted to make sure that we conveyed that, because that's a really important part of not just the characters but of the story. And if they are gonna be these harbingers of hope, as we said, they needed to express that through their kind of childlike sense of optimism."

Commander Zhao is one of the main villains of the first season and primary antagonist for our heroes. Ken Leung brought humanity and ambition to the character. We see his ego swell over the course of the season as he gets more and more power and comes closer and closer to capturing the Avatar.

Suki will talk about how when you're not a bender, you have to be better than the benders. The Kyoshi Warriors have refined their combat to the point that they can more than hold their own against firebenders.

Sokka and Suki will have a "beautiful journey" in finding commonality in not being benders and what it means within this world.

While Kyoshi can exist in the real world, Omashu can only exist in fantasy, so they built it from scratch. Kim and Raisani would have conversations about the colour of the rooftops and mechanics of the delivery system. They want Omashu to be a city that even new audiences will look at and think, "Wow, that somewhere I want to go to. That's a place I want to visit."

They tried to do practical wherever possible. They'd start with actors and everything around them, build out as far as they possibly can, then extend from there. For the shot of Aang flying over Omashu they started with actors on rigs, filmed on green screen, then did a full digital shot.

They call the sequence, "The Joy of Flight." Like the animated series, they have scenes that are just fun. Aang and Teo could fly from Point A to Point B but they want to make things engaging and fun to watch.

All actors doing bending had to go through extensive training before shooting. The core cast did a six week bootcamp where they had to learn all four bending techniques.

Utkarsh Ambudar (King Bumi) was eager to do everything himself. While they did use stunt performers for parts, he was always down to do another take despite being exhausted.

The Avatar State is the ultimate power, to be treated seriously, so they don't have Aang going into it as much as the original first season so it felt special and communicated that Aang could only access it in specific circumstances. They've tweaked the rules for when and how he can access Avatar State.

"There are certain things we are going to modify, going to change, and hopefully fans will see that it's all for the good of the story as a whole and in dimension-alizing the story and bringing it from one medium to the other."

[sweet-william-writes]

For the ask game! 🖍 ♻ 🤔 ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

🖍 Post any sentence from your wip-

Okay I've got SO MANY wips rn lemme see which has the juiciest option...

Lol okay Imma give yall more than a sentence cuz that just seems fair-

“Have I ever told you… that you have a pretty mouth.”

“Um… no.”

“You do. Have a really pretty mouth.” Kim said, reaching up and pressing his thumb to Porchay’s bottom lip, pressing down on where it was full and plump. "Pretty mouth that makes too many pretty noises…” He slurred, almost like he didn't know he was saying it out loud enough to put in the effort to enunciate.

“K-Kim?” Porchay stammered, the movement of his words making Kim’s thumb slip forward until it was almost touching his tongue.

“Pretty…” Kim couldn’t help repeating, pushing it the rest of the way forward, groaning when Porchay’s tongue flinched back for a second before instinct seemed to take over and he licked at the digit, a moment later taking it even further and closing his lips around it and giving it a shy suck.

ANYWHO ENJOY THAT WITH ZERO CONTEXT

♻ A scrapped idea for your current wip-

There was a more messy version of events planned originally for I Just Want To Stay Here, where instead of Chay catching Kim on the phone with Chan, he was able to keep the mafia stuff a secret longer and started to kinda have a crisis about what to do cuz he couldn't just keep being a creep and hanging around a teenager's house "taking advantage" of him indefinitely, he either needed to stop lying and come up with a more permanent solution for Chay's safety or lie more and break things off AND find a permanent solution he could keep secret. His emotional messiness is visible to Chay who also gets angsty cuz he draws all the wrong conclusions why Kim is being weird.

With this set up when the truth came out and they ended up at the compound, Kim was going to be a lot angstier and emotionally unstable, especially cuz he hates being at the compound and feels super guilty for dragging Chay into Theerapanyakul Mess, so he shuts down emotionally and Chay is caught between angsting for his own copious reasons and wondering why Kim is so different now that they are around his family and not at his house. Does he not want something real and out in the open, did he only want Chay when it was a secret? Is he ASHAMED of Chay?

It was going to be super fun to torture both of them way more, but by the time I got to this part of the plot, honestly it just didn't fit anymore, they were way too bonded and in love, not to mention had learned to communicate and open up to each other too well for this to work. Plus the reveal I came up with was just, mwah too perfect.

🤔 What's a story you'd love to write but haven’t even started yet-

Apologies this answer got SO long lol I have made ALL these answers WAY TOO LONG

Oh god SO MANY to pick from, I have a ridiculous amount of fic ideas sitting in various google docs or notes on my phone that I have no idea when or if I'll ever get to them. I guess the first one that comes to mind is the sequel/prequel to Where You Fell. I technically have started it in the sense it has a tentative name (These Days You Tend To Lie) and some ideas I've already had, but I've never actually tried to Start it yanno?

I have only a Very rough idea of the plot and also whose pov it would be in, an important choice since the changing povs that never switched to wwx was one of the best parts of wyf in my opinion, but I'd been playing with ideas for a prequel way before I even finished wyf.

It would be set years in the past and be about Jin Guangyao and the story of how 3zun got together, with interspersed flashbacks to all their childhoods like wyf has AND flashforwards to events after wyf like an almost-sequel-epilogue kind of thing. It would be a great way to explore jgy and nhs more which I Really wanted to do (and honestly the mostly unfair hate they got in comments on wyf just made me want to do it even more) AND (yes I'm officially rambling now lol) I could show how chengsang's relationship healed after wyf.

Plus honestly I've always been dying to write a 3zun fic but no other idea I've ever had seems good enough. It would be a HUGE project so idk if I ever will, but it is there, sitting in my backpocket, Waiting

(If anyone wants any details feel free to message me and I totally will ramble more about this lol)

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥-

😘😘😘😘😘😘😘😘😘😘

[amethystina]

Hiiii🩷🩷 I have a question... does Yohan think that Gaon loves Soo Hyun in a romantic way😳? If so, oh boy thats a huge misunderstanding to clear. Also, thank you for the amazing update!!! I'm sure as hell sticking around on this journey to see these two work out their feelings!!

Hi there! 💜

Yes, he does. Because Yo Han's got no reason to believe otherwise, based on how Ga On is behaving. He can tell that Ga On is attracted to him, sure, but that's physical. And sexual and romantic attraction are two entirely different things. One doesn't guarantee the other and just because you feel one — or even both — you don't actually have to act on it.

I'm more or less writing Yo Han like a bisexual demiromantic, i.e. he's good at recognising sexual tension/attraction but he's not very experienced with love. He's never really been in love before because he's never allowed himself to get close enough to someone to actually fall in love. And when you combine this with his upbringing and lack of social interaction with other people? Love is probably pretty tricky for him.

Not in a "he doesn't feel it" way because he does — and he knows that he does — but he's not the best at reading it in other people. Not at all helped by how he just doesn't get the whole "love at first sight" thing (because, again, demiromantic), which has made him wonder if, just maybe, his concept of love is different from everyone else's. He knows what love means to him and he's seen other people be in love (like Isaac and his wife) but applying that to his and Ga On's relationship is very difficult for him, especially with Soo Hyun complicating things.

Like, if Yo Han tries to compare how Ga On behaved around/treated Soo Hyun (who he assumes Ga On was in love with) to how Ga On behaves around/treats Yo Han, he can see a lot of differences. And it's a problem when his method for figuring this whole situation out is: "That is how Kim Ga On behaves when he's in love and, if he doesn't, he's probably not in love with me." Because that misses the part where people don't always behave the exact same way when they're in love (because it can be influenced by who they're interested in) and, if anything, it should be the other way around.

At this point, it's probably better to look at how Ga On behaves around you, Yo Han, not Soo Hyun, if you want to figure out what he's like when he's in love x'D

... but he doesn't know that, of course.

So, in short: Yo Han knows that Ga On cares about him and he knows that Ga On is sexually attracted to him, but he has no way of knowing if Ga On is in love with him. Yo Han has too little experience with it to be able to gauge that.

But, at this point? He thinks that Ga On is just too in love with Soo Hyun to ever love him (which is what this post was about)

And, in a very heartbreaking way, he's kind of grateful that Ga On made it clear he's not going to act on what's between them because Yo Han assumes it's only sexual attraction and some confused fondness on Ga On's end anyway. And Yo Han would just... rather not if that's all Ga On can give him. Because, for once, he doesn't just want sex — he wants love, too.

... this man is, once again, a goddamn onion.

(and will make you cry just as much as one)

And, for my own sake, I'm going to have to make a detour and write Yo Han's POV of what happens after he's gone into his bedroom because I SWEAR THE FUCKING BASTARD WON'T LEAVE ME ALONE. There is SO MUCH GOING ON in his head and snippets keep inconveniently popping up at irregular intervals, distracting me. And as soon as I push one aside, the next one pops up.

It's like a never-ending game of angsty Whac-A-Mole.

Someone save me.

ANYWAY. I'm glad you liked the update! And thank you so much for wanting to stick around 💜 I was genuinely worried about how you all would react to this chapter. Like, who's insane enough to throw in a rejection 400k into a story? People have probably gotten chased down with pitchforks for less.

So thank you for the trust, support, and dedication — it means a lot to me 💜

[ripeteeth]

Writing Patterns

Rules: List the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there’s a pattern! Tagged by @perverse-idyll, thanks for tagging me! This is really interesting, especially as I’ve been playing with my writing style and changing it up lately.

1. “A long cloak of night has fallen across the bed.” [Milk Teeth, MDZS, Jiang Yanli/Jiang Cheng. If I’m ENTIRELY honest, this is an inside joke with myself, as an old livejournal friend once described Snape by saying “pick up your long cloak of darkness and get to therapy”, which is a statement I think describes Jiang Cheng quite well.

2. “The trouble with stories is that they don’t always line up quite right.” [Over My Dead Body, MDZS, Wangxian, WIP. I like to bullshit about storytelling and story structure. There’s something fascinating about the interplay of author and reader, and of reminding the reader that they are sitting down to a story. There’s a special charm when the author editorializes and goes off on tangents - such as Victor Hugo in Les Mis - and while I am no Victor Hugo, it IS extremely fun to do.]

3. “‘Please,’ you say, and he likes it when you say it.” [empty, save you and i, Good Omens, Aziraphale/Crowley. I just love the cadence of this and the way it establishes the close, confessional second person POV.]

4. “Naked, wrapped in silk, and turned away on his side.” [say it like you mean it (with your fists for once), Kinnporsche, Gun/Vegas. Does the lyric “why is the bedroom so cold / you’ve turned away on your side” from Joy Division’s Love Will Tear Us Apart haunt you like it does me? I like how this established the feeling of isolation and loneliness.]

5. “This is how it goes.” [Zoetrope, MDZS, songxuexiao. Again with the storytelling.]

6. “The day he meets them is a red-sky day.” [blood, bones, and butter, MDZS, songxuexiao. Red sky at warning, sailors take warning! How else should you introduce my babygirl Xue Yang? I’m realizing a lot of my lines have tucked-in references, allusions, and inside jokes with myself.]

7. “Spring is pale in Revachol.” [Revachol Calling, Disco Elysium, Harry/Kim, WIP. Honestly, I don’t like this line and if I ever rewrite it, I hope to have something that fits better. This doesn’t grab in the way a DE fic should grab the reader. God, this WIP haunts me. Someday I WILL finish it, but it’s been three years since I’ve played the game and I absolutely need to play it again to get a feel for the voices.]

8. “The walk home is lonely.” [long slow love song, TGCF, fengqing, WIP. I really like short first sentences, huh? I suppose this is just brief scene-setting. Mu Qing seems like a guy who takes a lot to open up, so a short opening line suits him.]

9. “He wonders how he’ll die.” [impact, Beyond Evil, lee dongsik/han juwon. I’m proud of this one. I feel like this sets the tone and grabs attention. It’s just a short fic inspired by J.G. Ballard’s Crash, so I can’t think of a better way to begin.]

10. “When Kinn had been a boy, he’d had an old tomcat that liked to sleep in his bed.” [shotgunning, Kinnporsche, vegas/kinn/porsche, WIP. Introduces this as a Kinn character piece.]

Bonus from unposted Frankensmut: “One should not travel these woods alone; the Wild Hunt is strong here, and all are prey.” [Introduction to Natural Philosophy, Frankenstein, The Creature/Victor Frankenstein, WIP. An opening line that promises you that the hunter WILL get his prey. I promise you this.]

What I’m really learning here is that 1. I need to work on finishing my goddamn wips, and 2. wow I really rely on passive voice to open. Huh. Are there any other patterns? Maybe some authorial direction to remind the reader of the story structure. I’ve also got a bit of a penchant for short opening sentences followed by paragraphs that either elaborate on it or negate it, usually heavier in length and description as a counterbalance. Like adding acid to balance fat or sugar. Truthfully, I’ve kinda grown bored with my typical writing style, which is partly why I haven’t posted much fic lately. Art is all about pushing yourself and trying new things and innovating. I’m dead sick of writing present-tense third person limited and am vibing with first and second-person POV, which aren’t fan favorites for fic. I’d also LOVE to try something much more zoomed out, like omniscient third-person.

This was fun! Tagging @brawlite-archive, @iodhadh, @jaggededges123, @rcmclachlan, @weatheredlaw, and @darcylindbergh if you’re vibing, and anyone else who’s interested!

[nerdacious]

So now that the fic has been finished for a bit I have some questions about the making of Partners and Paper Trails. I'm just curious about what it was like to write it (and wondering whether my experiences writing for this fandom are universal). No pressure to answer!

Generally speaking, did you find Harry's chapters or Kim's chapters harder/easier to write?

Which parts of the fic (either POV) were your favorite to write? Alternatively, which parts were unexpectedly frustrating?

From what I understand, you wrote the entire fic ahead of time and then edited it as you went along, but didn't start publishing it until the first draft was entirely finished. Do you have any advice for someone who's attempting to write a long fic following a similar process?

(as a secret fourth question, if there's any hidden lore/details that people didn't seem to pick up on/something else fic related you want to share and haven't had the opportunity to, I'm all ears. love me some secret lore 👀)

Sorry it took me so long to respond, I was working on my response instead of working and then I was like crap, I should probably do work, and then I actually went out and did stuff with people irl for once lol. So now I'm back home and can answer this!

Generally speaking, did you find Harry's chapters or Kim's chapters harder/easier to write?

There were aspects of both that were difficult. I spent a whole other fic in Kim's head so I had more practice with him, but I think Harry ended up being a little easier or at least more fun. I could break up reactions and thoughts into each of his aspects vs the solid paragraphs of Kim's chapters. You also can just do more wacky stuff with Harry and his skills. However, it was hard to remember all of the skills. Like, I did Encyclopedia so dirty. After a point I kind of just forgot about him or didn't feel like thinking up facts for him to chime in about lol

Which parts of the fic (either POV) were your favorite to write? Alternatively, which parts were unexpectedly frustrating?

My favorite thing to write is dialogue, especially when Kim and Harry are really getting into the groove of the case and when they get their little banters going. I also really like competence porn so Harry wasn't nearly as much of a mess as he could be in game. It was a bit of a wish fulfillment fic in that I wanted to see Harry doing better for himself and not just for Kim. I think directly after Martinaise he probably was doing worse than the point he's at in the start of the fic.

The hardest part was writing the case and trying not to make it too obvious (but it definitely was so I had to hope people enjoyed it regardless haha). I'd never done a mystery before so coming up with what happened and how/what they discovered was challenging. So I guess that's not really unexpectedly difficult. Writing the actual porn was unexpectedly frustrating! A majority of what I write is smut so it was like "why is this so difficult???". I had to get that last chapter perfect (I still don't think it is, but what writer ever does) because I dragged it out long enough and I didn't want to let anyone down. It's very different from what I originally had. I also had never written d/s before, thankfully my editor has experience in that realm so he had really good pointers even though it's really light in the fic lol. I still don't know how successful I was with the smut for this one.

From what I understand, you wrote the entire fic ahead of time and then edited it as you went along, but didn't start publishing it until the first draft was entirely finished. Do you have any advice for someone who's attempting to write a long fic following a similar process?

Some people can just write and post as they go, but I have way too much anxiety to start posting something that isn't finished. I also have way too much ADHD to trust that once I started something I actually would finish it. I've also seen too many fics that don't know or don't want to quit so they just keep going past the point where it would have been a good/interesting ending (not really in this fandom, I just mean in general). So, yes, I finished it, had my editor do an initial read, made some general edits based on his feedback, and then he did a more in-depth edit of the first few chapters and then I started posting them. Some chapters I added a lot more to them during this stage and some chapters stayed pretty much the same. There are a few chapters that haven't been edited because he was unexpectedly unavailable for an extended period of time and I didn't want to stop the momentum. I didn't really have a beta reader for this one, but I asked a few people to beta specific chapters. It's not something I typically would want, I'd have preferred to have a beta for all of it, but it is what it is (or was rather). So all of that is to say, you don't have to do it that way lol, but I would at least have an outline and stopping point and stick to it. And if you want a beta reader, find someone who's opinion you trust and who you can trust will be honest with you. Also don't get rid of anything entirely. If you like something, but it doesn't work, cut it and paste it in a separate document because you might find a way to bring it back or parts of it back in other places. Also make copies for version control. Once I finished it, I made a copy so if I changed something too much in the final version but didn't like it, I could either refer back to or restore parts from the original.

As for secret lore/things no one mentioned:

In the first chapter, when Mollins first flips the siren on, Harry has an adverse reaction to the sound because of his encounter with The Pigs. Then there's an Esprit De Corps check about her listening to her police shows. (Hilarious fact: I couldn't remember her real name correctly at first and before I double checked the wiki I thought it was Marine Le Pen loool)

This goes back to the first fic, but Kim bought a book on how to support someone in addiction recovery and the receipt shows he bought it when he first started as a detective with Eyes. If you take the radiation drug in the game, there's mention of Kim possibly having had a partner with addiction. Also based on his many comments on seeing officers in much worse condition and having only one partner, I'm guessing he's talking about Eyes so I went with that. I still have no idea what exactly happened with Eyes in my story, though.

Shivers helps Kim open the door to the Linnea.

The reason Johnny's body was dropped off in the Harbor is because there had been a bank robbery in Jamrock at the time and there were cops everywhere looking for anything suspicious. That's a tidbit that didn't make it into the text.

The people in Harry's Shivers check in the first part of his final POV chapter are the people that would have been targeted next.

Thanks for asking these questions, they were fun to answer!

[mirisss]

To What Could Have Been

Wen Junhui x afab!reader

Warnings: Angst, sad, one-sided love, 

Summary: Jun stands on the sidelines, dreaming of what could have been, as he watches the love of his life falling in love with someone else. So, to get over her. He writes a song. 

Please reblog! 

Requests open! For all groups, including SVT

Jun’s POV

(Y/n) is the prettiest girl in the world, at least in my eyes. No one shines like her. She’s like the sun. Her pretty (e/c) eyes, her soft hair, her smooth skin. I’ve known her for a couple of years, and we quickly became good friends. But I have since day three of knowing her, wished we would be more than just friends. I fell in love with her quickly, how could I not? She’s amazing, so kind, and cute. I know I sometimes act like a child, especially when I’m around my big group of guy friends. We have a tendency to act like 5-year-olds, but she just laughs and calls me cute, she even joins in most times. She usually smiles so brightly during those times and when the nights become late and the weather becomes cold, she always cozied up to me for warmth and love. Having her close to me is like a dream. 

One of my absolute favorite memories with her was a late October night, we were having a movie night when suddenly (Y/n) said that we should go out on the balcony. Like a puppy I just followed her outside, whatever she wanted, I would always give her what she wants. Call me a simp, but what can I say? I love her too much. As we stood out there, on the balcony, we looked up at the sky that was filled with stars. “Look Jun, there is Scorpio, oh and-” I stopped watching the sky and looked back at the girl beside me. The way her eyes were sparkling with excitement and happiness. I also noticed how she was just dressed in a t-shirt, her body was slightly shaking from the cold, without hesitation I pulled off my sweatshirt and nudged her arm. “Hey, it’s cold. Put this on, you’ll catch a cold otherwise, you know you catch those easily,” She took the shirt from me and put it on. “Thank you, Junie, come here, you’ll be cold too,” And so she pulled me closer so I ended up standing behind her, with my arms wrapped around her waist, and there we stood for 15 minutes. Even though I was freezing cold by then, it was worth it. 

For the last two years, I have been trying to find the courage to tell her I like or love her. But I was too late. 

* A few weeks ago *

The entire morning had been thinking of how I should confess to (Y/n). I know her favorite flower is (flower), so I could buy a bouquet of those and give them to her or I could buy her that plant that she’s been talking about for ages but never seems to actually buy. She’d definitely prefer the plant, as it will last way longer than a bouquet, but I bet I’ll end up taking care of it either way because she’ll forget about it sometimes. I couldn’t help but smile at the thought. 

Suddenly, my phone rang. I picked it up and found (Y/n)’s contact picture staring back at me. “Hey there cutie,” “Hey, Jun! I have some really exciting news, sit down,” I sat down on my couch, “Okay, I’m sitting,” “Okay, I’M GOING ON A DATE!!!” I was shocked, so shocked I almost dropped my phone. “What? - erhm, What?!?” Without thinking I first said ‘what’ with a disappointed tone, but quickly cleared my throat before saying it again with fake excitement. “I know, isn’t it crazy?” “Yeah, um. Who are you going with?” “Oh, I’m going with Kim Youngbin,” “he’s a dancer and a rapper right?” “Yes! He’s so handsome and so nice, we’re gonna go to a café and then maybe to a karaoke place,” My heart dropped, I couldn’t smile, I was seconds away from crying. “That sounds nice, I’m sure it will be fun. I have to go, Minghao is knocking on the door, we have some work to do,” “Oh, okay. Say hi to Hao from me, byeeee. Love you!” “I love you too,” And so we hung up the call. If only (Y/n) knew just how much I meant it when I said that I loved her. I laid down the phone on the coffee table before I let the tears run down my face. 

And that was it. One date turned into five, into fifteen, into them becoming official. I was too late. Too caught up in dreaming about what could have been. Seeing (Y/n) with Youngbin was hard because I couldn’t help but wish she was with me. I couldn’t be too mad with Youngbin though, he treated (Y/n) like a princess, just like she deserves, but I knew I could have treated her better. 

* Back to the present *

A few weeks have passed now and it still hurts just as much seeing her in the arms of someone else. But I didn’t distance myself like anyone else probably would, I couldn’t do that to her, she would be too hurt and I can’t hurt her. During these weeks, Woozi helped me compose my first solo song. I have done a couple of projects with my friends previously but never anything by myself, just me. I wrote about my heartbreak, about what I wish (Y/n) and I could have been, while still trying to keep a happy tone. This was my love letter, the ending to these feelings and these daydreams. Once I release this song, I’ll start working on getting over (Y/n).

* The day the song is released *

 “WOW JUN! I can’t believe that you’re releasing your first solo!” (Y/n) was jumping around with her usual big and bright smile, so excited for me, her best friend. I took one last glance at her while thinking how it would have felt to kiss her. This is the last time, this is the end. “Yes! JUN, let’s go! Show us this masterpiece!” I stood up and cleared my throat, looking at all my close friends, and Youngbin, “Thank you all for being here to celebrate my first solo project. I also want to give a special thanks to Woozi who helped me compose and produce the song. Now, for the first time ever… Let’s listen to my song! Cheers!” And so we all raised our glasses in the air while shouting with excitement. And so, I clicked play on the track letting everyone listen to the song. 

“But this is the end. Our last day. These thoughts shall be no more, I know I have to let go. I’ll give one last cheer, one last time, so here we go. Here’s, To what could have been,” 

(This is, to my knowledge, not a real song. Any resemblance to any existing song is purely coincidental,) 

I think all the boys, even Youngbin, knew who the song was about but if (Y/n) figured it out she didn’t let it show. She simply, gave me a hug while blabbering on about how good the song is. But then she let go of the hug and walked back to Youngbin, giving him a hug and a kiss. I pushed away the feelings of regret and jealousy and instead tried to think of how good they looked together. Minghao came up to me, “Hey, it’s okay. You did the right thing, you’ll find someone else. And you will always be her best friend,” “I know. Thanks, Hao. I’ll try to move on,” And so he gave me a pat on the back with an encouraging smile. Yeah, this is the end. The last day. I walked to the kitchen, filling up my glass once again, cheering to myself. To what could have been. 

[lee-hakhyun]

what do you think of LHH being a writer, reader and a protagonist? ofc not in the grand scheme of the universe way, but he’s got all the three tropes down.

Writer - of ORV, we know that and also his debut work which gives me brain worms to think about. Even before he fully knew why he was in the world, he knew he was a liar. Casually lying about his past to get by. LHH ily.

Reader - he loves ORV like his readers, he loves the story, and *ahem* that insane reveal (I try not to think of it much lest it taint my perception of Hakhyun, he’s my bbg!!!)

Protagonist - he’s the MC of this story!! this story that was made for him, it’s his, yet he wants nothing to do with it. Man just wants to go home with his readers and honestly he’s so real for that. Such a breath of fresh air. He just doesn’t accept his fate like a lot of isekaid-against-their-will protags do. I’ll love him for that and dream of his happy ending, even though I feel like a selfish voyeur just by reading the side story (*insert the world continues by reading yadda yadda bs*) :,))

I’m so insane for him help,,, he’s been plaguing my drafts, someone get him outta there 🧍

he's truly the guy of all time. adding on a lot of my thoughts

i love writer characters,, especially ones that get transmigrated into their own work (hi sqh), and he even gets to he the protagonist..! even if the story is not. treating him well

lies especially are such an important part to his character. the lies he wrote for jhw, the lies about his childhood, his lies to jung jaewoo, and all of his works (bar orv) having themes of lies,,

and. it's really clear he has issues with his identity made infinitely worse by ending up in orv and realizing that he isn't the 'real' author. transmigrating into cheon inho and using incite to copy others, even getting an item that can copy other items.. it makes the moments when he thinks of himself as 'lee hakhyun' so much more special

and oh. he's a character who loves so much. trying to save as many people as possible throughout the stations, even trying to save the monsters in the 'emergency defense' battle by convincing them to stop fighting. even the 'extras' that kdj didn't pay much attention to, he took care of them, gave them food and taught them how to hunt

directly challenging hsy's plan for 41!yjh's sake.. willing to sacrifice himself just so one more person could survive. WRITING HIS OWN DEATH TO PERSUADE HSY.

the 49!kdj pov was heartbreaking. but it was needed. i thought about it, and 49 only started breaking down after his first doubts of himself as 'kim dokja'.. was the reason he started deteriorating so quickly because he no longer believed kim dokja's stories were his? i don't think kdi anticipated this when he split himself,, i think he sincerely wanted his companions to be happy with a part of himself. when everyone was trying to figure out what went wrong with 49's body they said the amount of stories should have lasted him at least decades, and sys saying the stories that connected him to her felt unstable.. was this because 49 was subconsciously rejecting those stories? and then his final wish to be anyone but kim dokja. oh my god.

he got his wish, but the story found him again. while lhh was previously 49, he's now his OWN PERSON and referring to him as 49 is directly against what he wanted. please don't do that. even hsy realized and accepted it (..after lhh made her kill him.)

if i talk about his relationship with jhw i will combust. maybe another time.

[starcasticallyyours]

starcastic’s fun facts about writing Art and Artifice

So, my Vmin Regency AU Art and Artifice is finally finished!! This feels rather surreal because I worked on almost nothing else for the past 6 months. It was such a good experience though because not only did I enjoy myself immensely with the craft and execution of this story, but the people who regularly commented were so wonderfully encouraging and made me feel like the sunken cost was all worth it. Thank you again, I love you all so much!

A lot went into the making of this story, so I really want to share more about how I wrote it as well as pointing out little Easter eggs I included, both relating to BTS or the time period. If any of this interests you, keep reading below!

FUN FACTS FIRST!

Not sure if anyone got this, but the title is in fact a riff on Pride and Prejudice! And the sequel will be even more silly by having a very Blackadder the Third take on another Austen title, but you’ll have to wait and see which one it is.

I already mentioned in an author’s note that each of the estates had IRL basis, but they also all had fictional ones. Harthaven is meant to evoke Mr Knightley’s Donwell Abbey with its stately farmcore vibes. Ivoring Hall should remind you of both Longbourn (especially with the Mins behaving rather Bennet-like) and Kellynch Hall (their money woes reflecting those of the Elliots). And of course, Davensley is a total rip-off of Mr Darcy’s Pemberley and is here to represent the epic breadth and majesty of all major English country estates.

Taehyung’s Grand Tour itinerary is based on Lord Byron’s from 1809-1811. I’m sure he desperately wanted to go to France and Italy but there’s a war going on out there, somewhere. And Seokjin isn’t here. (My Great Comet agenda will never rest)

Speaking of which, there should have been a Jin mention each update but I failed this when the Sope proposal scene became its own chapter and I forgot. Kind of bummed about it, not gonna lie.

I thought about having Yoongi read Sense and Sensibility at some point since it was published in October 1811. But then he went and established himself as an ardent enthusiast of gothic melodrama instead, how very Catherine Morland of him.

[major story spoiler] The backstory of why Merritt suddenly came back to England was that a great-aunt of his died and he had expected to be given her estate just to discover that this was not the case! Having sold his commission, he couldn’t return to a military career so he decided to wiggle his way back into Jimin’s life to gain his fortune/inheritance instead -- except he did not expect a) Minjeong’s wise decision to will Harthaven to Namjoon and b) Kim Taehyung. [end spoilers]

Not about the story/characters at all but I have a weird preoccupation with numbers so I’m particularly happy that I started this fic on 11/11 and managed to finish it on 5/5. 

A tidbit about the sequel: it will be from Namjoon’s POV and centred around him as he was mostly in the background throughout this story and deserves something good after his year of being sad. I’m looking forward to it because how he views himself is absolutely not the same way Jimin does!

THE WRITING PROCESS:

I almost always come up with a story’s ENTIRE plot before even writing it down. So after seeing @dayofkaryn​‘s tweet (like I’ve said so many times) in March, I was bit by a plot bunny and thought about it incessantly for about 2 months to figure out the main beats. This way, I can mentally test and veto things – at one point I had an entire other ending to the story that I never wrote down and ergo have totally forgotten what it was (something about Taegi teaming up against Merritt but I do not remember what their plan was at ALL). Of course, the final version of the story almost never resembles the chosen plot 100% faithfully, but having a roadmap is still really important for my personal security!

Next, I outline. Extensively. The version that I kept on tweaking and rewriting over the summer ended up at 11k words by the time I started. The point is that it’s a 0 draft and again, I’m figuring out the beats and identifying what needs to be done in regards to character development, structure, or just basic research.

I started drafting in late September and had the first 3 chapters ready by the first post in November (totally lost my head start by Christmas though, lol). When I draft, I cut/paste the section of outline that applies into a new Google doc and start forming them into sentences and paragraphs. Sometimes I end up rewriting the outline first, especially for later chapters after the story had developed into its own thing with a much clearer personality that deviated from the original plan! In draft mode, I also keep Wordhippo and Etymonline on nearby tabs to help me catch that word on the tip of my tongue and that my vocabulary choice is both period and suitably British. Luckily, thanks to where I grew up/currently live my spelling habits are already UK style!

Once drafted, I upload as a preview on AO3 and tweak for line edits/formatting there. Will admit that by the last 2-3 chapters this was not done and I would line edit after posting because my work schedule was hectic! But then the chapter is published, yay, and I go about my day trying not to think about it and reminding myself that the stats page is not an indicator of quality or worth. 

RESOURCES:

I’ll admit that I constantly googled shit while I drafted, ending up mostly on the blogs of Romance authors or Jane Austen fanpages. I do want to shout out this extremely cool collection of articles written by literally one person on very particular and niche topics from the era called the Regency Redingote. Even if it just came to one-liners about Jimin using a mote spoon or trimming quills, the wealth of information is just amazing and I could and have lost hours of time just reading about these random Regency things.

I also used videos for general education. Ellie Dashwood is a YouTuber who for a long time made Austen and 19th century her thing, so she was great for simple and straightforward explanations. (And she’s Yoongi biased!) There’s also this incredibly detailed re-enactment of a private ball by the Real Royalty history channel that they held in Edward Austen’s house! That one is just FUN to watch and learning more about the period via direct experience is a great way to do it in my opinion. And this one vlog about a pheasant shoot helped me significantly with Chapter 9 even if it’s very modern.

However, nothing beats immersing yourself in the OG stories! While writing this fic I revisited Emma, Northanger Abbey, and Sense and Sensibility from top to bottom, and picked up Venetia as a new Heyer read. I also checked out Jennifer Kloester’s Georgette Heyer’s Regency World from the library which had a lot of details about the setting and culture that was really useful. My library system has tons of Heyer actually, I should pick up another to celebrate finishing the AU!

WRITING SOUNDTRACKS:

I’m a creature of habit and usually will return to the same handful of mood music for a project. For A&A, these were on constant rotation:

For lighthearted scenes [like in chapters 4-7] / Jimin’s “theme”: the complete OST from Emma 2020. I genuinely love this movie for its cinematography and absurdity, and I love the soundtrack too! For Vmin scenes / Taehyung’s “theme”: Twoset Violin’s Mendelssohn 4mil Concert. I really, really like the Bach piano pieces at the start and end, and I find La Campanella to be very A&A!Taehyung coded: torrid and dramatic and also kind of ridiculous. I do pause writing whenever I hear the concerto starting to catch Brett’s panicked face when they prank him every single time, hahahaha

For Sope scenes / Yoongi’s “theme”: this collection of John Field’s nocturnes. My favourite is No. 10, the “Romance”. Soft and gentle, like our sweet Suga!! Other composers I would also put on from time to time were Beethoven, Pleyel (who Jane Austen was known to enjoy a lot), more John Field (concertos instead of nocturnes) and of course, BTS. C:

If you actually read to the end of this very self-indulgent and longwinded post, thank you for your patience! I hope you liked the story too, and are curious enough to see what the heck I’m going to do with pirates in the sequel. Because now I’m going to have to figure that out too. As always, I remain starcasticallyyours!

[laesas]

For the fanfic as game:

💖 What do you like most about your own writing?

🖊 Post a snippet from a current WIP

🌝 Who is one character you haven’t yet written for that you would like to?

Thank you!!!!! I keep getting over excited and writing so much more than I mean to so in the interest of not taking over an entire dashboard! TINY answers here; Long answers and snippet under the cut :)

💖 What do you like most about your own writing?

I think I'm getting good at consistent use of imagery for characters that layers and carries across a fic! It's expecially nice to do for Kim or Chay POV (my little songwriter duo) who I imagine have a very good sense for those kinds of pretty descriptions and metaphors and use them in their heads!

🌝 Who is one character you haven’t yet written for that you would like to?

Ken my bestie Ken. Manwhore Manipiulate Manslaughter 🥰 - He terrifies me to write though!! (also Chan - answered here)

🖊 Post a snippet from a current WIP

I'm reworking my entire KimBig kiss from the beginning (again.) but this time I really like it, so there's a snippet of that under the cut! :)

✨📝 Writers Ask Game 📝✨

💌Send me one here!💌

Long answer time hehe!

💖 What do you like most about your own writing?

I really love consistent use of imagery in fics, especially ones that feed into eachother and build on top of eachother across several scenes. I'm definitely not perfect at it but it's one of the things that I'm really proud of in the KimBig story! (For context, they're both processing the fact that Kinn was kidnapped and shot and almost died)

Kim and Big are both heavily represented by fire, so lots of sparks and smoke and burning etc. and the warmth vs the volitility. I hoped by making the imagery consistent I'd give the sense of them desperately seeking warmth but also destroying themselves in the process. It gets referred to as "a mutual immolation" at one point, which I think sums the fic up pretty well!

By contrast, Kinn's metaphors are very cold and water based. In the beginning for example, there hasn't been any rain in Bangkok since Kinn left, but by the end when Kim has processed that Kinn is safe, it's raining outside.

For the layering; In the aftermath, Kim refers to his grief surrounding Kinn with this imagery of standing on a shoreline waiting for a tsunami to hit. So where Kim and Big come together and create a little fire, all of Kim and Big's feelings surrounding Kinn gets represented by this huge inevitable force of water that completely extinguishes what little warmth Kim and Big have sought out.

IDK probably a horrible explaination and I swear it's much more subtle in the fic haha! I dont want to be too self congratulatory about it because I am aware that that style of writing isn't for everyone and it's also a fic for such a ridiculous rare-pair that literally 6 people max are going to read. BUT in the interest of self-indulgent explorations of metaphor.... it's fun and I'm kinda proud of it hehe

🌝 Who is one character you haven’t yet written for that you would like to?

I answered Chan here (for so many reasons!) but I have spent the last several months WISHING I understood Ken well enough to write him!

He's just such a mix of things I struggle with as a writer - He's incredibly direct (to the point of cruelty) and I imagine it's similiar in his inner world as well, which takes a lot of my beloved imagery and metaphorical speak off the table. Plus he doesnt strike me as someone that's particularly introspective or self aware. If someone calls him out on something, he's much more likely to respond by lashing out than he is to absorb any kind of reasonable criticism or change his behaviour.

Paired with Big (and he *wILL* be paired with Big) there are just so many ways that those dynamics could play off eachother. I feel like putting them in a scene together would be a case of the characters very much controlling the scene and not me and I LOVE to plan a scene haha!

I do imagine Ken has a bit of a superiority complex though, which WOULD be incredibly fun to write. Especially as it feeds into how he became the traitor! He's finally being appreciated as something more than one of Kinn's loyal dogs! (Read: he's Vegas' dog now) If Big doesnt want him then he doesnt care! that doesnt matter because Vegas wants him! (Read: Vegas is manipulating him, Ken is lying to himself)

I literally love him so so much but writing him TERRIFIES me!!

🖊 Post a snippet from a current WIP

I'm currently completely re-working the KimBig kiss! once I'm done with that it's just........... betas and posting??? aah!?

Big's hand feels like static where it rests at his back. He stays still, he leans up, he goes where Kim guides him, but he’s almost sickeningly pliant, the only indication he’s affected at all is the uneven hitch in his breath as he kisses Kim back, meeting his mouth with a gentleness that’s almost cruel. His lips are soft but the sparks aren’t catching fast enough and all Kim wants is to be consumed. It’s not enough. It occurs to Kim that this, all of this, is a terrible idea. The thought, once distant and impassive, now spreads in ice-shard splinters across his skin. They should stop. Kim should stop.  Kim should let him leave. But that thought is worse. It constricts in his lungs and warps his vision in a rush of vertigo. ‘Please,’ Kim thinks. His desperation beats in time with the pounding of blood in his ears. ‘Please. please. please. please.’  He doesn’t think he says it out loud but he must have done something, whispered something, thought it loud enough that Big could hear; because suddenly there’s a shift. There’s a sharp intake of breath, the sensation of Big's fingers curling into a fist through the fabric of his t-shirt, then Big is taking his bottom lip between his teeth and Kim’s thoughts finally, finally go up in smoke.

I love a ramble! So sorry these got so long haha!! but thank you so so much for asking ily!! 😊🌸🥰💕

[theharrowing]

Kim. Lalami. Morrow for collateral. Coates for collateral Yoongi. Butler for someone in collateral if that's ok.

hello, hello, anon!!! 😍

i'm so excited to talk about Collateral hehe let's get it!

kim ⇢ what AUs do you want to try and/or write more of?

i reallllllly, really want to write a pistilverse fic some time this year!!!

lalami ⇢ where do you draw inspiration from?

that really depends on what i am writing. sometimes my overactive imagination comes up with shit. sometimes movies, book, anime, etc. i know this response is very like.......not at all insightful, but i kinda just let my own brain go brrrrr and it tends to do a lot of work. sometimes if i am feeling stuck, i will read fics in the same genre/trope but i don't like to do that too often because i will likely become influenced by it.

morrow ⇢ what song is the "soundtrack" to Collateral?

hmmmmm.......it's hard to pick just one song (i actually have a playlist!) maybeee......Vengeance by Bibi? if i could truly only pick one song.

coates ⇢ how would you describe Collateral Yoongi?

oh, my Yoongi. he really needs to catch a break, take a vacation...something. Collateral Yoongi is a complicated character who holds onto too much and bottles things inside. he chases pleasure and happiness without having any concept of what "happiness" could really mean. he struggles to see past his own self-serving desires, and even when he has good intentions, his actions have quite the impact, often negative.

butler ⇢ is there a character you wish you could develop further?

for Collateral: i would like to develop all of the characters more outside of Yoongi and Namjoon, but it's hard to do so with a fic that is only told from one pov. i give snippets of things via conversations with Felix, but it never feels like enough. especially Hoseok.

thank you for asking, anon!!!!!! 💓

send me some lovely writing asks!

[laughingpinecone]

Candy hearts exchange 2024 letter

AO3: laughingpineapple (double-checked a-ok for treats as per the recent AO3 update blah blah)

Hello and thank you for writing for me! I hope you’ll have a great time playing with one of these wonderful canons!

I love a wide variety of fics - from the most delicate gen to explicit, any tense, any format, big yes to all kinds of weird experiments up to and including interactive fiction. In general, I love canon expansion (showing new places in the setting or exploring those that are barely mentioned, just outside the borders, and ditto with events), character work of all stripes (expanding on little quirks, putting characters in situations that complement/challenge certain personality traits of theirs, just... observing these weirdos as they live their lives, for better and for worse), magical realism and adjacent approaches. I eat up emotional moments with a spoon when a fic is character-centric (danger! catharsis! hurt/comfort! the nitty-gritty of attraction!) and also love abstract stuff that is not character-centric at all: fake academia, a wider focus, inhuman povs, anything goes.

For both romance and friendships, I love it when it’s clear (not necessarily to the characters themselves, but to the narrative) what they like about each other, how they get along, if and how they trust each other, what’s annoying but worth it, what flaws of the other are they or are they not well equipped to handle... The specificity of each dynamic! I also love it when the characters are very into something that makes sense for them, be it a hobby or a kink or whatever, even if it’s something I may not personally care for.

For art, I love when characters are doing something. I much prefer a simple illustration of a moment in their lives (basic examples: sharing coffee, walking together) to a more ornate symbolic illustration like eg a tarot reimagining.

DNW: non-canonical rape, non-canonical children, focus on children,  pregnancies, unrequested ships (background established canon couples are okay, mentions of parents and paired-up OC randos are okay!), canon retellings  

GHOST TRICK

Alma/Cabanela/Jowd: Jowd navigating the "whoops turns out I'm bi" part of the whole thing is always fun Alma/Jowd: what's their dynamic, exactly? I'm open to many possibilities, for example an Alma who's just as much of a cosmic pessimist as her esteemed husband! Cabanela & Pigeon Man: unexpected intergenerational friendship of my heart, Cabs is A Lot and Pigeon Man expertly wrangles him. Guess he’s good with birds Cabanela/Jowd: please let them be intensely ridiculous about their attraction Emma & Jowd: double menace pls Jowd & Pigeon Man: what sparked PM's unshakeable devotion toward Jowd? Alma/Cabanela: fashion! and legs! Clothes swap? Some time on their own?

PYRE

Bertrude/Pam: they get each other quietly… anything based on their paired ending, especially Downside? Ignarius & Oralech: I’d just like to weaponize Iggy’s fascination for big survivor demons and point it at an unsuspecting Oralech, for fun Oralech/Tariq: beyond the Scribes' vision… Oralech/Volfred: Downside reunion! How do you let go of all that mis-aimed anger AND mourning? Volfred & Pam: here's a guy who's very pragmatic about reaching his idealistic goals, and a gal who's a trained agent. Or maybe just two teammates after a rite. Volfred/Tariq: Tariq's small attempts at defiance?

DISCO ELYSIUM

Call Me Mañana & Steban: that time when Steban tried to talk Mañana into joining the group and it sounded like he was hitting on him (at least according to Harry, who is, on occasion, an uncannily accurate judge for this sort of thing) was fun! What about a second meeting between them, or would Steban be willing to just sit next to him and talk? DJ Flacio & DJ Mesh & Kim: I just want Kim to meet his loud, vulgar, communist-leaning (according to one line in reply to Harry, at least) heroes. Maybe after he got his shout-out? (Harry and Kim/Harry welcome if you want) Liz/Cindy: Things got very real very fast for Liz at the tribunal, can actual gang member Cindy help her through it or make things worse? Dros & Nilsen: bitter, cancelled old codgers, how unpleasant could they get? I like to picture Nilsen's ghost bothering assorted leftists in the game and Dros could do with the company… Uli/Steban: a Wirrâl session turning intensely homoerotically charged? Anything else turning intensely homoerotically charged (looking at the canon slap, it's kind of what they do)? What Mazov/Nilsen parallel do they see in themselves?

SACRED AND TERRIBLE AIR

Khan & Nilsen: as one of Elysium's famous disappearances (as per a stray line by Lilienne in the game), Nilsen should by all means be part of Khan's special interest. Khan who, for his part, dresses as a dialectical materialist, so did he like what he was reading about Elysium's Most Cancelled? Khan & Tereesz & Jesper: any exploration of their strange, frayed friendship, the ways in which they care for each other, their breaking points, how they're all called to the void… Khan & Zigi: does Khan find him, at the end of the world? Or is Zigi forever out of reach, beyond even the totality of the pale? Or does Khan manage to reach Rodionov's Trench at last, in dreams or otherwise? Mazov/Nilsen: they held hands… any exploration of any part of their lives (first meeting? Nilsen's return from his feral hut era? Reunion in the pale?) and their beliefs and their opposite responses to defeat? Lund sisters & Rodionov: party at the heart of the pale! Tereesz & Frantiček the Brave: echoes, archetypes, feeling the weight of dead revolutionaries and joining the ICP, the same story happening again, once as tragedy twice as farce… Zigi & Nilsen: ngl I need seven seasons and a movie of these two. The dialectical angle is great, the embodiment of the core dialogue between communism and nihilism, the imaginary frenemy angle is great, the ghost story is great, the concerning amount of applicable Breaking Bad memes is also great, and so on…

FULL CORE STATE NIHILIST

Esteban/Hulio: political posturing and transgressiveness bleeding in and out of actual queerness. Any exploration of nihilist, petrofascist Innocentic seat and global superpower Mesque is welcome, as well as the characters' approach to nihilism vis-à-vis Ambrosius'!

PENTIMENT

Gnaziu/Baltas: I love Baltas' whole thing and seriously what is UP with Gnaziu. I thought I'd missed some plot but he's just… hanging out there? How does he spent his days over at Baltas', in this little village so far away from home… Magdalene & Andreas: post-canon letters, maybe even a collaboration on some book to print? Otto & Ulrich: they were my act 2 faves and I just think they're neat? ;^; to Tassing's martyrs, to their kindness…

[raplinesmoon]

The Modern Prometheus (KNJ x F!Reader)

Part of Undisclosed Desires: An Anthology

pairing: scientist!Namjoon x f!reader (feat. Jungkook), slight Namjoon x OC genre(s): smut, angst, some fluff, drama, mystery, slight horror au(s): based on Frankenstein by Mary Shelley word count: 10.8k warnings: POV switches, unreliable narrator, mentions sickness, minor character death, grief, depictions of science experiments and anatomy, Namjoon is a questionable character, self-hatred, anxiety, jealousy, religious mentions, verbal altercations, implied infidelity, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, plot twist!; smut warnings: voyeurism, manhandling, foreplay, fondling, dry humping rating: 18+

summary: Kim Namjoon had always been a curious child, with a strong desire to understand the world. After a tragedy strikes his family Namjoon is left heartbroken. Grieving, he seeks to create a companion in the most unorthodox way. But what happens when the very life he created turns against the master whom she was supposed to love?

a/n: hello to this fic, which kicked my ass and took a piece of my soul with it. I’ve been stuck on it for months, deleting and re-writing nearly 6k, but it’s finally done and I’m sad. This was by far one of the hardest things for me to write, simply because Frankenstein is one of my favorite books ever! I hope I did the story justice while keeping it original, please enjoy! And a couple of thank yous: the amazing @yoon2k for helping me come up with the hyung line series, the wonderful @kithtaehyung​ for beta’ing the first part of this and encouraging me to continue, and the lovely @jjksblackgf​ for letting me use her name for the story!

Taglist: @miscelunaaa @shameless-army @firesighgirl @sunshinerainbowsbts @seokjinger-ale​

7th July, 17—

To my dearest sister,

My apologies for the hasty nature of this letter. First and foremost, you should know that I am well, and in good spirits. I do not know when this will reach you, but our shift drifts on, now floating somewhere in the Arctic. I’m very grateful to the powers above that no harm has befallen us, even though we are surrounded by sheets of ice. There have been small dangers here and there, such as a strong gust or leak in the vessel, but so far we have made friends with luck. And I endeavor to keep it that way. I shall see success, for who can stop the determination of a man, especially one who finds himself on a journey.

But I’m getting away from my purpose, I fear. You see, dear sister, I write to you today because a strange incident has befallen our crew. It was last week, you see, when the ship was floating through a dense fog, with nothing and no one to be seen for miles. The crew was in bad spirits, the greyness outside coloring their hearts, casting a cloud over their once jolly natures. However, by a stroke of luck, the fog cleared, and it was then we figured out we were surrounded. Ice locked us in an impasse, as far as the eye could see. And in the middle of it all, a strange sight – a sled, drawn and carried by dogs, dragging around the sorry shape of what looked like a man. The dogs approached us, closer and closer, and we laid our eyes upon the human for the first time. 

If only you had seen the man, my dear sister! Thin as a rail, limbs nearly frozen into rods. It was a wonder he was alive, a miracle even more so that he was able to communicate with our crew. Never have I seen a man in a more wretched condition. Three days passed before he was even able to speak a word. He’s in rough spirits I’m afraid, seeming less like a man and more like a savage animal, gnashing and thrashing about, as though he’s been possessed by a spirit.

And yet, sister, I see something in his eyes. Those eyes stare at me, they haunt me. I feel as though I see a ghost in them, the ghost of who this man used to be. I can see a time when those eyes used to be warm and full of light. I see him stare outside sometimes, as though he’s looking, searching for something. Or someone. Though when I asked him who, this was all he said:

“The one who fled from me.” 

What could it all possibly mean? I fear I cannot even begin to imagine the answer. I shall continue to provide you with more information about this new and curious man. I feel a strange sort of attachment to him, as though he were a friend or even a brother. Heaven bless you, my beloved sister!

Yours,

Captain Jeon Jungkook

13th August, 17—

Sister,

I come with more news about my beloved guest. A strange being he is, capable of inciting my curiosity, pity, and admiration all at one time! It is evident to me that he is a wise and cultured man, his words melting together and coming alive every time he speaks, as though they ran off the pages of a storybook.

Although he still stares out onto the deck every day, looking for that maddening sledge, he’s also begun to show an interest in the lives of our crew. Always going around, asking them about what their dreams are. We’ve had many a conversation about mine. I’m perplexed by this man, who seems so worldly and loquacious. For when I told him of my noble plan to explore the world, to reach beyond and expand our very boundaries of scientific thinking. He began to tremble. I reached for his figure, worried that he was having some sort of fit brought on by his illness, but was greeted with his dark countenance, grim as ever:

“Dear friend!! Do you also share my madness?”

It was a brief outburst, one that was followed by a change in his expression to something full of so much sorrow and grief, that I couldn’t help but be moved. 

No sooner had he uttered the words than did calm overcome him, his eyes looking out to the vast sea that lay beyond, and then looking down at the floor. He excused himself, bidding me goodnight before he retired. Before he left though, he uttered the most peculiar thing.

“I have lost everything, and I cannot start again.”

19th August, 17—

Sister, I already know this tale is one beyond ordinary comprehension, its events seeming like the far-off makings of a daydream, but I assure you, they are very real. 

“Captain Jeon,” he said to me. “A brief while back, I had made up my mind, had resolutely told myself that the memory of all my misfortunes should be lost when I perish. But you changed my mind.”

“My name is Kim Namjoon. I was once like you, Captain. I sought for knowledge and wisdom, the same way you are doing now, and it is my only sincere hope that you shall take a moral from my tale of caution, that it should not prick you and sting like the thorns of a rose. My fate is nearly sealed, once the one I am waiting for returns, I shall lie in peace.”

My eyes nearly bulged out of my head, my dear sister, urging him not to expend himself so greatly, telling him his tale of grief could wait until we found safe passage. But he refused, and here I am now. Nothing will ever replace the melancholy in his eyes, the animated nature of his performance, but I hope these notes and manuscript can serve some sort of purpose. Here is the tale of a most extraordinary man.

“Namjoon!” his eomma yells, causing her only son, her plaything and her idol, the innocent creature bestowed upon her by the angels from above, to perk up from his desk. He sets the magnifying glass down, marveling at the way it made the lines of the map covering the surface seem even more crisp and sharp, drawing him deeper into its intrigue, the promise of a wide world out there waiting for him to explore.

“Your Appa and I need to talk to you,” his mother calls out again. “Please come downstairs.”

Back straightening like a rod, Namjoon rushes down the stairs of the Italian villa, running as fast as his little feet would take him. His parents had a surprise for him! What was it? A new toy perhaps? Maybe a pet, as a new plaything? His curiosity, as usual, got the better of him, as he stumbled over the last few steps, free-falling into mid-air, his arms swinging around to brace him from a violent fall.

The pain was bearable this time, Namjoon thought. Sniffling as he rose to his feet, his knees ached, rubbed raw against the rough tile, and he silently prays his father wouldn’t notice them bleeding through his breeches. Brushing off the mishap, his steely grit and determination returned, as he skipped gaily towards the parlor, eager to see what his parents had in store. 

Rushing through the doors, Namjoon finds himself coming to a crashing halt. There was someone else here. Gulping, his eyes happen upon another pair, as bright and as curious as his own. A little girl stares back at him, the sunlight bouncing off her hair. 

“Namjoon,” his mother says softly, beckoning him with a wave of her gloved hand. “This is Lady Kyla. She will be staying with us for the summer.”

Namjoon’s lips set into a pout, and he swings his hands behind his back sheepishly. He’d never spent so much time around another human being his age before, let alone a girl. Something about Kyla made his face heat up. She reminded him of the beautiful flowers that often grew outside their villa, swaying gently in the breeze.

That summer was a fond one, perhaps one of the few in Namjoon’s entire life. How he longed for those sweet days, running around the villa, hiding in the gloomy corners of the villa, playing together. He hadn’t known it at the time, but Kyla’s presence had been a blessing, a ray of sunshine. How unfortunate that her feeble light could do little to shield him from the shadowy days that were yet to come.

Not even a year later, Namjoon and Kyla’s little cohort was joined by a curious lad, who went by the name of Jackson Wang. Jackson was nothing short of an adventurer, leading the trio on dangerous quests, Kyla the dazzling princess, protected by her two knights in shining armor. Jackson’s dream was to be remembered in history, as a hero like no other, one who upheld all the moral virtues of man.

All of that was well and good for many years, until one day, the play-acting of children no longer interested Namjoon. He realized more and more that men were no longer the proprietors of their own fate. They were mere toys, pawns in this vast, wide world, at the mercy of nature itself. Namjoon began to withdraw from these silly fantasies at the time, picking up a volume of Agrippa and indulging the fervent longing that had begun to brew within him, to study all the secrets of nature.

And yet, it was still not enough for him. To Namjoon, there were always little tears, little rips in the fabric of his understanding, ones that he’d pick up on after countless hours of studying the philosophy of these alchemists. He’d ponder upon these inconsistencies, ranting about them to Jackson and Kyla, who supported his deep-rooted passion but did not even come close to understanding it. And so he drove himself mad, wondering why if these scientists claimed to understand the world, there were still things with no explanation. 

All of these violent frustrations came to a head one night, during a most wondrous and violent tempest, the thundering bellowing from the heavens until the sound reached Namjoon’s doorstep. Namjoon watched the storm rage on, the lightning casting an eerie glow over everything in the house. And that was when it happened. A singular crack of lightning, and suddenly he heard a great splinter — the towering oak which had stood upon the hill outside, turned into nothing but a stump.

“Electricity,” was what it was called. His father had explained it to him the next morning, the way currents were conducted and energy could be harnessed, and Namjoon knew at once that the speculations of the alchemists were something he must abandon immediately. Nature was strong, powerful even, but it could not be the master of man. There had to be more advanced science out there, a way to understand it, to control it, to prevent it from wreaking havoc and destruction like he’d seen last night. And he’d devote his life to finding it out.

But then, the greatest tragedy of them all struck.

“Namjoon,” his mother croaks, her pale and ghastly countenance rendering her nearly unrecognizable. “My dear boy, please come here.”

“Mother,” Namjoon says gently. “You must rest, and recover.

“There is no hope for my recovery now,” she coughs. “I regret that I am to be taken away from you so soon. But please, as my last wish, may you indulge my firmest hope of your union with another? And then I shall resign myself peacefully.”

And then she was gone.

Blinking back tears, Namjoon doesn’t know what else he can say, what else he can do. His mother, his dear mother, has wasted away before him. The woman who’d shown him love and safety throughout his childhood. He looks upon her sweet, tender face, and realizes that he shall never again see her smile, hear her laugh. 

But the worst part had been the passage of time after her death. Time had indeed dealt his family its most evil blow, for while the Kims grieved for their lost matriarch, the world moved on around them. The gentle nudging of society soon became a nagging that pushed their grief to the side, shoving them back into the real world. Before he knew it, Namjoon found himself at university, his awkward, gangly frame clambering around the campus, stumbling into every lecture hall he could find, hoping that it would help guide him in his course of study.

Until one day, he stumbled upon a discourse given by an extraordinary professor - talking about the discipline known as chemistry. As he listened to the words of the man, Namjoon felt his hair stand up on end, enthralled by the limitless possibilities the subject provided. It made no false promises, like the alchemy he’d held onto for so many years. No, this was what Namjoon had been looking for – a way to unfold the deepest mysteries of creation, down to every atom. This was where his future lay.

Two years. Two years had gone by for Namjoon, raving like a madman, wholeheartedly throwing himself into his studies. His professors all commented on the soul and spirit with which he pursued learning, but the truth of the matter was, Namjoon had begun to feel out of sorts. The more and more he dove into his studies of atoms and molecules and elements, the more he had begun to feel out of touch with the world around him, one that was teeming with creation, and more importantly life. Living, breathing organisms that were more than a mere collection of matter.

Namjoon missed his mother. He ached to feel the loving touch of her arms once more, her soft kisses pressed into his hair. His father had withdrawn after her passing, locking himself inside the house, making a rare appearance once or twice a year. Namjoon had never returned, the current gloom and sadness of his childhood home that had once been so bright too much to bear for his heart. Jackson and Kyla wrote to him constantly, asking after his well-being. Kyla in particular wrote to him often, wishing to come and spend time with him, but he rebuffed her coldly. Love had only made his heart weaker, and his body more fragile. 

And so, Namjoon pushed on, advancing in his studies, until he happened upon the study of the structure and organization of life itself. Anatomy. It fascinated him endlessly, how so many organized parts and cells could come together to form a whole.

But his fascination didn’t end there. Unlike his other classmates, Namjoon sought to understand the essence of life itself - what kept a human living, breathing, and thinking for as long as they lived. Perhaps if he had understood these secrets long ago, he would have been able to save his mother’s life.

In his study of life, Namjoon developed a strange and macabre fascination with death. He visited morgues and charnel houses. He saw, limb by limb, how the human body fell apart, revealing what lay underneath. And thus, he began to harbor a secret. One so vast and powerful, it could change the course of the world as we knew it. Like a magic scene, the mysteries of creation unfolded before him all at once, and Namjoon was spellbound, drawn into a trance, unaware of the dangers that lay ahead.

Propelled by the force of the maelstrom that wreaked havoc upon his mind, Namjoon toiled with the boundaries of life and death themselves, and in doing so, he felt his chest tighten with emotion. No longer would anyone have to live without light in a dark world, to live with the heaviness of grief upon their hearts. In his room, hidden from the world outside, his skin grew pale and his figure emaciated. The seasons changed, the leaves turning from green to gold, and then blossoming forth into petals of pink and white, but he paid them no mind.

The rain pummeled against the window, striking the glass panes with such brazen force that Namjoon thought his whole studio would shudder and splinter underneath the weight of tonight’s storm. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he lets out a deep breath, one he did not even know he’d been holding for the past few years. It was done. 

A crack followed his sigh, like a bone being set into place, and then a great groan, and his creation sprung to life. Namjoon stood there, paralyzed, the awe beginning to melt away, and shock and horror set in as he took in the sight of this new being. It was a woman, and yet it was not. For every feature he’d selected, eyes, lips, nose, and everything that was beautiful in its own right, fit together in the most grotesque of ways, and instantly his heart plummets. This was no human. This was nothing worthy of his love, or the labor he’d undertaken for the past two years. The empty void that had settled in his chest after his mother’s passing grew wider and wider, and Namjoon watches all his hopes and dreams become swallowed by the gaping vortex.

A bead of sweat trickles down his neck, escaping underneath his shirt, and Namjoon turns on his heel, running out of the room.

Panicked, he closes the door behind him, rushing across the hall to his own bed, drawing the scratchy covers over his head. His eyes flutter, willing for sleep to claim his restless frame, but it never comes. Instead, he lies awake, the pounding of his heart melding with the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner, creating a haunting rhythm to represent the doom that has begun to loom over the house.

A loud crack jolts Namjoon awake from his miserable sleep - the lightning illuminating the room in a silvery glow, and there, at the foot of his bed -– the figure of the being he’d created! Round eyes, if they could even be called so, staring at him curiously, like a lost child. Mouth moving as though it was trying to speak, but no sounds escaped. 

Namjoon softens at the sight of the poor creature, looking lost and confused. He reaches out towards it, hands shaking, and nearly jumps when he feels two leathery palms take his hand in between them. His heart thrums at the gentle display, amazed at how soft-natured the creature was, despite its extraordinary appearance.

Tightening his hand in the creature’s, he realizes that he cannot give up now. This dream, this vision, it must be worth something. For the beauty of creation lay not in the dazzling appearance of things themselves, but in their ability to provide hope.

“I shall call you ___.”

Along the dark and rainy streets, Namjoon paces. He walks with no destination in mind, tormented by the shadows that seem to taunt him at every corner, springing forth into a malevolent dance. His heart thuds underneath his chest, skin ice-cold from the rain.

A week had passed since the strange miracle in his studio, and Namjoon had mostly kept to himself. ___ had roamed around his apartment, marveling at the strange and new world she found herself in. As clumsy as he was, ____ was clumsier. He’d had to pry many precious artifacts from her grasp, or make sure that she did not rip the pages from his chemistry books in order to read. Despite the astounding nature of his discovery, Namjoon couldn’t help but feel a sense of budding anxiety. He was afraid to show ____ to the world. What if they rejected her? Or worse, scorned him as a madman? Or a necromancer? People, as fickle and as proper as they were, wouldn’t be ready to accept something so different from the norm. He’d have to do some more finetuning.

His head churns with thoughts, the primary one being guilt. Fine-tuning? Had the experiment taken so much of his humanity that he’d forgotten that he’d created a life, one that he was now responsible for? It was his fault, his burden to bear for creating a being that he could not bring out into the world. ___ reminded him so much of an innocent child, smiling and laughing at the most mundane things, like a speck of dust floating in the air, or the wind ruffling the curtains. 

He wished her childlike innocence would remain as such forever. That she’d never have to grow to experience the horrors of the world, full of pain and suffering. And so, he resolutely decided that she would have to be kept a secret.

“Namjoon!” A voice calls out to him in the rain, and he turns.

Jackson. There he was, bright-eyed and waving at him, and Namjoon felt color return to his cheeks at the sight of his old friend. Imbued with a sense of vigor, he rushes towards him.

“My dear friend! How have you been?” Jackson laughs, amused at the sight of Namjoon’s tall, lumbering frame pulling him into an embrace. 

“Now you remember your old friends,” he teases.

“I am sorry,” Namjoon smiles, his dimples making a rare appearance. “I have much to share with you. Please come, I can make us some tea.”

The two of them walk together through the winding streets, back towards Namjoon’s apartment, when suddenly, Namjoon remembers his predicament.

“Jackson, please wait a moment outside,” he says. “I remembered that I’d been working until late last night, and need to arrange some things.”

“You think I don’t know how unruly you are?” Jackson teases, following Namjoon towards the door.

“Please,” Namjoon says harshly, turning, and his friend stops at the look of panic in his eyes. 

Throwing the door open, Namjoon feels a cold shiver overtake him. Something was wrong. The wind whistled through the apartment, the shutters rattling along with the gusts. It was empty.

“Anything wrong?” Jackson’s voice asks him, and Namjoon feels a cold, clammy sweat overcome him. ___ was gone.

“No,” he shivers, not even daring to wonder about the disastrous consequences of his creation being unleashed on the world. 

“Everything is fine.”

A nervous fever, the likes of which Namjoon had never experienced before, had taken over Namjoon’s body. He found himself prone to fits of madness, ones which had begun to concern Jackson, who had nursed him diligently. ___ was gone, unleashed out onto the world, and Namjoon was full of fear. Fear for himself, fear for others. What would they do if they happened upon her?

His only solace was a letter from Kyla. “Get well soon, my dear Namjoon, and return to us. To me.”

Soon, his father decided that enough was enough, calling for Namjoon to abandon the university and come home for a few weeks, back to the villa surrounded by nature that his family so loved. It was here that he tried to grapple with the happenings of his life over the past few months. How had he gone from achieving an extraordinary feat, one which men dared not dream of, to losing it all not even a week after? Sails set, he glided across the lake, hoping some signal of hope would find him amidst the murky waters below.

It was fitting then, that after uprooting the balance of the natural world, Namjoon should find a reprieve in the mountains. The river raging its course, carving a path through the rocks, the precipices dangling over his head - it reminded him how small he was in this great world, how foolish he’d been to try and master Nature itself. He could only hope that ___ had not fallen prey to the same mistakes he had. He shuddered, thinking of her all alone.

As he continued his trek, he occasionally stopped and took reprieve to enjoy the beauty that surrounded him. It was a different, more eerie kind. From above, a glacier loomed over his head, framed on either side by ravines of snow that looked serene and peaceful, but he knew that one wrong step could lead to his demise. The trees that grew here were barren and severe, lending an austerity to the scene.

Breathing heavily, Namjoon stumbled to the top, his chest constricting in pain. He failed to realize how much of his energy the ascent had taken, settling upon a large rock at the summit to catch his breath. His gaze shifted to the valley below, the barest hint of green peeking from underneath the sea of snow and rivers of ice.

Namjoon felt something wet splash onto his palm, looking down in surprise to see a few stray tears escape and run down his face. He bowed his head solemnly.

“Wandering spirits, please, wherever you are, allow me this brief moment of happiness in my wretched life.”

As he muttered the silent prayer, he heard a twig snap from behind him.

28th August, 17—

My dear sister,

As I write to continue this tale, I must also share some unfortunate news. It seems we have sailed into rough waters, left to the mercy of the mighty ocean current. I fear we shall be steered off course, and that our journey North will extend even longer than I had hoped. I did wish to return sooner, but I hope you can understand that I must continue on.

I fear for our guest. Namjoon seems even more uneasy the further we drift away, as though our rift with the land mirrors his own delicate temperament. After listening to his narration, I would have thought that the sea held a special sort of magic for him, being a man so irrevocably intertwined with our natural world, but it seems that is the opposite. We’ve come to a pause in the tale anyway, for Namjoon has stumbled into a fit, unsure if he can continue.

“I fear what you may think of me if I continue,” he said to me.

“Nonsense,” I reassured him. “Despite everything I’ve heard so far, my regard for you has not changed. My heart beats to know more. You have led a most amazing life, one that I would be honored to know about.”

“You may think me honorable,” he wails. “Yet I fear that it is all a lie. Nevertheless, I will indulge you. But a word of caution - let your reasonable mind be the judge of a miserable wretch such as I, and not anything as fragile and as fickle as a heart.”

Namjoon turns at the sound, and nearly topples over at the sight before him. In the dense fog, a figure approaches, one which he knows all too well.

“____,” he says, stumbling towards her, the wind knocked from his body. “____!”

She approaches him, the fog clearing to reveal her face, and Namjoon is shocked. While nothing has changed in terms of her makeup, there’s something inherently different within her spirit. The way she looks at him, it’s no longer like a child seeing the world for the first time, but he looks back to find a feeling of sorrow and anguish in her eyes that mirrors his own. It was so… human. Namjoon’s head spins in anger.

“How dare you?” he bellows. “How dare you leave my care, escape the safety of the home I so carefully crafted for you?”

He watches you flinch for a brief moment, hurt flashing in your eyes but it soon fades. 

“I should have expected this,” you seethe, and he jumps back, in awe of your ability to articulate yourself. Where had you learned to speak? 

“I should have expected,” you continue. “That you’d be angry with me for leaving. But Namjoon…”

A shiver runs down his spine at his name coming from your lips. Your voice is different, deep with a haunting lilt.

“Namjoon,” you breathe. “Your name is Namjoon. And you are my creator. I beg you please, as a man with this gift, fulfill your duty towards me. I have seen little of the world thus far, but from what I have learned, I yearn to know more. I want to be like you. I want to live peacefully like the rest of mankind.”

A hollow chuckle escapes Namjoon’s throat, and he’s shaken by the lack of emotion in it. 

“Live peacefully?” he says. “What makes you think any of us live peacefully? What secret have you discovered that humanity knows nothing of? What, pray tell, was your plan to living happily, to living like someone, or something you could never be?”

Hurt flashes in your eyes at Namjoon’s sharp words and he clenches his jaw, defiant and unwilling to demonstrate how much your expression grates at his nerves,

“Listen to me,” you spoke to him, reaching for his hand like you had that very first night, but he pulled it away with a scowl. “Hear my story, and then you are free to judge or abandon me as you please. Let us build a fire. It is cold.”

You beckon him to follow you to rest under a tree, where various sticks and stones have been gathered. He follows, lips parted in awe as he watches you work, your once unwieldy limbs now moving diligently and swiftly to craft a blaze. At once, his mind is reminded of the various myths and legends he used to read through as a child. In the blazing afternoon sun, he watches you bring the flame to life, setting the scene for your own trial by fire. A modern Prometheus.

The flames flicker orange and blue, and then you begin to speak.

“For most people, even children, their creation is as natural and as fluid a process as taking a breath, or sipping water. But when I was created, everything was a blur. It was a strange phenomenon, being able to sense so many things at once. I saw, smelt, heard, felt, and yet, I didn’t know the world around me. The light hurt my eyes, and for a while, I wished I could return to the darkness I had known before. One that hadn’t known who I was.”

Namjoon’s throat bobs, thick with emotion. He’d never considered the circumstances of your creation from any perspective other than his own.

“You were kind to me,” you continue. “I knew you were scared. I knew I was strange and different from you. I supposed that’s why you would leave me every day to attend to your duties. The very first time, I came to regret that my countenance would drive you away in such a panic. But then you returned, and all seemed well and normal. The world outside made you happy, I could tell. You felt free, felt like you were a part of something. Unlike me, cast into the oppressive loneliness of your apartment.”

“So I ran away. At first, the light hurt my eyes and the stones cut my feet. I stole clothes from your closet, but soon realized that my body could not fit them the same way yours did. I should have felt more like a foolish child, one who strayed from her parents. But no, I felt free, and I felt hopeful. Hopeful that like you, the one who made me, there would be a place for me in this world.”

“I do not know how long I walked. People would run and flee at the mere sight of me, shrieking and pointing at my body, my face. I did not know why they didn’t warm up to me the same way that you had. It was at that point I began to understand that I was a different kind of creature, one that was not human.”

“Eventually, on the outskirts of your town, I happened upon a small hut. It was abandoned, much to my relief, for I resolved at that moment to stay away from humanity. Many of the people I observed seemed unhappy, and my presence only contributed to their prolonged unhappiness. In the hut, I began to learn how to use fire. I credit its discovery with saving my life, for it kept me warm and well-fed.”

“Try as hard as I did, I could not escape the presence of humanity forever. Many of them would walk by the hut, and I took it upon myself to learn the strange sounds they used to communicate with one another.”

It is at this point that you pause, taking in Namjoon’s wide eyes. There was a malevolent sort of glee contained within their depths, awe at what had come to be of his beloved creation.

“Truthfully,” his voice rumbles. “I am shocked. I did not think you were capable of such a feat.”

“Why would you?” you continue on. “If you had been left to your whims, I would have been abandoned in your apartment all alone, left to wither away of my own accord, or to be disposed of once you grew resentful of my presence.”

“Why did you return to me, then?” he asks. “I provided you with so little. I could not even fulfill the basic duties of a caretaker. Do you wish to mock me, to flood me with that guilt? I live with it every day.”

“I must continue,” you tell him. “You’ll learn everything in time.”

“Two of my human companions came to the woods surrounding the hut often. I looked at them, realizing they were like you and me. A man and a woman. I observed the most curious of relationships between them. The man would stroke the woman’s hair, putting flowers in it, and they would laugh and converse and eat during the day. At night, they would touch and embrace each other often, whispering words in the dark. I began to feel a surge of emotions inside this body of mine, ones with which I was previously unfamiliar”

Namjoon’s cheeks go pink, breath hitching at what you possibly could have witnessed between this couple.

“That is not for your knowledge,” he says, breath low, even though there was no one to be found for miles around. 

“I feared you would say so,” you look into his eyes, a sad smile overtaking your malformed features. “But I learned of the thing you humans called love, and that is why I have come to you today.”

Namjoon’s face blanches, and his heart begins to race. What had you come to request from him?

“Please teach me about love, Namjoon,” you ask, bright eyes shining for the very first time with tears. “In my brief time in this world, I’ve seen so much pain, and sadness and suffering - among humans, among animals, even among the crops that are grown for harvest. The world is bleak and full of so much desolation, it’s a wonder to me that anyone wants to live in it. But they do, and love is what drives them to do so. I sincerely believe it is at the foundation of everything.”

Namjoon remains frozen, unable to speak, taunted by the ghost of his younger self, who’d been overcome with all the world had to offer, love being among it. What a fool he’d been. 

“I cannot love anyone anymore,” he says, bitter with grief. His mother’s eyes flash in the back of his mind. “I will not let myself be capable of it.

“But you were capable of it,” you pester him, and his temple throbs. “You loved your parents. You love Kyla.”

At the mention of her name, Namjoon’s gaze shoots up to yours, face heating in anger.

“How do you know about her?”

“Why should only you be privy to all the whims and fancies that this life has to offer, Namjoon? Why can I not indulge in the same passions?”

He opens his mouth, ready to protest, but you beat him to it.

“Because I’m not human? Because I’m not a real woman?”

Your voice breaks on the last word, and tears spill from your eyes.

“Why did you create me then? Why did you make something you’d come to abhor, if you weren’t even going to try to love it? Or let it find love of its own.”

“One chance,” you issue the ultimatum. “Give yourself one chance to love me, in whatever way you can. That is all I ask from you.”

Pity burrows itself deep within Namjoon’s chest at your forlorn figure. Could he ever love you? He loved the idea of you, back when he was hard at work in his lab. But you weren't what he expected at all. Maybe, just maybe if he tried to give you the love that you so desperately craved, he could find the dream he had lost sight of. And be happy once more.

“I shall try.”

“Namjoon, are you okay? You look quite pale.”

Namjoon’s eyes shoot up, meeting Kyla’s from across the breakfast table. She decided to pay a visit, worried and fretting that Namjoon had replied to none of her letters. He finds himself blushing, noticing that she’d only grown more beautiful as the years passed by.

“I’m fine, just thinking,” he responds brusquely.

“About what?” Kyla asks him. “Your head is always in the clouds, Namjoon. You need to come back down.”

He could not reveal the truth of where his concerns lay to her. You’d asked to meet him in the woods surrounding the villa. Today, his trial would begin, and he prayed that whoever was watching over him above would lead him down the path of prosperity. He shivered to think what would happen if he could not keep his promise to you, how you would react.

“I’m going to go for a walk in the woods,” Namjoon stands, excusing himself from the table.

“May I come? Kyla asks.

He shakes his head, offering her a small smile as consolation.

“Not today, Kyla. I would like to be alone.”

. . .

You’re waiting for him, perched on top of a rock. He approaches nervously, unsure of what you have planned. How was one supposed to bring themselves to love someone just like that? That kind of love existed only in fairytales. 

He scoffs to himself, making his way to the middle of the clearing. Eyes widening, he takes in the sight of books, scattered all around you. The covers are worn, pages battered from use, and he wonders how you happened upon so many at once. Skimming through the titles, he recognizes a few of the names. Poets.

“I thought you could teach me how to read,” you tell him, holding out one of the books. “We can start with this one.”

“Why poetry?” he asks, raising his eyebrows quizzically.

“I overheard the humans one day talking in strange rhymes,” you say. “He was reading her a book just like this, and she seemed to like it.”

A small smile makes its way onto Namjoon’s face. Your eyes, as strange as they look, light up with the same happiness he’s seen in a child discovering something new for the first time. He’s reminded of his summer days at the villa, discovering the world around him.

“Let’s start here,” he grabs the book, face blanching when he sees the cover. Milton’s Paradise Lost. His heart begins to race, wondering if you’d picked it out intentionally, whether it meant something to you. But you’re holding it out, a smile on your face, and his anxious spirit calms immediately.

He begins to read, his voice carrying melodiously against the wind, whistling through the branches of the trees. All the while, your eyes are on him, watching the way his mouth moves, his eyes widen, and his eyelashes flutter. The time passes by in an eerie silence, and he wishes you would say something, do something. But you just sit there and listen, focused on the story.

If the similarities between the text and your own entry into the world strike you, you say nothing, instead hanging off his every word. He finishes the chapter, closing the book.

“That will be all for today,” you tell him.

Namjoon’s mouth opens in shock. Nothing about the endeavor had been particularly romantic, or even stimulating in the way he’d expected. Were you playing tricks on him?

“You have a wonderful voice, Namjoon,” you whisper softly, and his heart freezes. “It sounds like what the humans call music.”

“I’ll meet you there in two days,” you tell him.

He watches you walk back into the forest, and his tongue feels as though it has been coated with lead. Where were you even staying? His entire being feels heavy, arms and legs weighed down with steel. He wishes to ask, but nothing comes out. Your figure disappears from his sight, and the burden of the questions he dared not speak presses heavy on his heart once more.

The days pass as such, Namjoon continuing through the pages of Paradise Lost one by one, with you hanging on to his every word. You don’t speak much during the sessions, stopping only to ask questions about a particular line, or repeat a passage that spoke to you. He’s grateful that you do not pressure his feelings to grow, simply asking to continue another time.

Instead, you leave him with small compliments, remarking on his hair, his outfit, or even the way his skin glows in the sunlight. They are but tiny, superficial, things, yet the endearing way you notice them causes strange feelings to churn within his heart. 

In those formative years after his childhood had ended, Namjoon began to keep his heart under lock and key, building a glass castle around himself. He found himself partaking in the world around him, but no longer with any enthusiasm or investment. He often felt like a ghost, tormented by the guilt of his presence on this earth, wallowing in his unhappiness. Why did he live when his mother died? Was his empty, hollow soul truly of more value?

When you came into being, the emptiness and darkness only grew stronger. Namjoon felt as though he had tumbled into an abyss, one which he could never claw his way out of.

But being here, next to you, with the crisp air and birds singing, he felt the cracks in his heart start to heal. Reading Milton, exploring the story of creation again, made him finally feel as though his being was worth it. That he, Namjoon, had something to contribute to the world. He didn’t know if you were to credit, or he, for finally setting his mind straight from the madness.

Lost in his thoughts, he almost misses your question.

“The woman in this story, Eve,” you start. “She’s like me, isn’t she? She was created with the intention of being a gift, a form of salvation. But she turned out to be an abomination instead. That’s why they cast her out.”

“Can you ever forgive yourself for my creation, Namjoon?” you ask, shuffling closer to him on the rock. The warmth of your body moulds into his, sending sparks through his veins. “Will you forgive me, like God did Eve, for being so much less than you had hoped?”

Namjoon turns his face sharply towards you, panicking. The gnawing guilt had set in once more.

“I wish you could try,” you sob, voice breaking, a single tear falling from your eye and wetting the grey stone below.

Nostrils flaring, Namjoon feels a pain bloom within his chest. Something strikes within him at the listless and despondent tone with which you speak, and he snaps. 

Lowering his face to yours, he watches your eyes widen in shock, nervously shrinking into yourself. He decides he wants none of that from you. His large palms come up to cup your cheeks, the skin devoid of warmth like his own, but he pays it no mind as he leans down, pressing his lips to yours.

You do nothing to respond, frozen in shock. The kiss is no more than a few brief seconds, Namjoon pulling away immediately after, but he swears you look dazed. If the same blood ran through your veins as did his, no doubt you would be flushed right now.

“You are not my Eve, nor a fallen angel,” he says, so quietly you almost don’t believe it at all. “You are ___.”

Namjoon knows that the visits in the forest should have stopped a long time ago, for they would not ever be fathomable, or palatable to anyone that were to find out. He had abandoned the idea of using ____ to further the achievements of science and medicine long ago. In her gentle presence, he learned that death, as much as life, was part of the cycle that kept the universe intact. 

He knew nothing good could come out of the time he spent with her. It was dangerous to plant ideas in her head, to make her dare to dream that just because Namjoon had some semblance of acceptance in his heart, others would do the same. But, out there in the woods, he felt free. Free to be Namjoon, free to let his soul roam and wander, without the crippling feeling of being lost.

But human souls could never stray for too long, the iron shackles of society reining them in when they began to meander too far.

“Namjoon,” his father says sternly over the breakfast table one morning. “You should marry soon. I will not be around much longer.”

“Father, you are still young,” Namjoon admonishes him. “Don’t say such ridiculous things.”

“Everyday, I think about your mother’s last wish,” he responds. “Don’t you?”

It was guilt, Namjoon thinks. Guilt that brought him to tearfully say yes to his father’s proposition at the table. Guilt that made him put a ring on Kyla’s finger the very next day, the two of them dressed up and laughing along with his father, who beamed proudly.

He was a fraud. Namjoon would never become the son that his mother and father wanted him to be, for he harbored you, his biggest secret. He’d never be a loyal husband, nor a loving father. If he had any hope of becoming so, he had to let you go.

The stroll to the woods was a harsh one that day, he noticed. The wind howled, rustling the leaves, many of which had abandoned their brilliant hues of red and gold to become a muddy brown. A few of them detached, flying towards Namjoon’s face, and he shivered as the chill set in.

You’re sitting there, on the same rock you always are, but you’re not looking for him. Eyes trained on the ground, your figure casts a forlorn shadow, bent and broken, and he wonders if you already know. 

“Sometimes, I think it would be easier if I were to tear up all the trees in the forest, to wreak havoc and destruction, like all you humans expect of me, and then to sit and watch the ruin unfold.”

Namjoon takes a step back, foot crunching on a fallen leaf, and you look up at him, devastation in your eyes.

“Maybe then a wretch like me could disappear.”

“I am sorry,” Namjoon stutters. “I did not wish for it to be like this, for things to turn out as they were—”.

You interrupt him with a harsh snarl.

“And yet, you were the one who said yes to her, Namjoon. You were the one who slipped the ring onto her finger, just like you were the one who created me. That type of responsibility is something you can never run from. It will torment you, haunt you to an early grave.”

A chill runs down his spine at your menacing threat, and fury sets in. He would not be pushed around by you like this.

“I fulfilled my end of the bargain,” he says coolly. “I tried to love you, in whatever way I was capable of. It is not my fault that I am a human, especially one who is weak to the follies and enjoyments of life, the pursuit of beauty and the act of procreation being among it.”

His words prick like thorns, and you wish you could bleed, bleed, bleed out, until you simply ceased to exist.

“You did not even try!” you scream, the sound ripping through the forest. “You were against me from the start! Why damn me to such a miserable existence?”

“It was a punishment!” he seethes, the vein in his temple throbbing. “I’ve been punished, and I will surely go to hell for this act of abomination.”

“Burn then! Rot!” you collapse into a heap on the forest floor. “But you will never find someone more loyal than I, someone who loves you more.”

“But I shall,” you rise, looking him directly in the eyes. “Make another like me, so that we may disappear together. Heed this final wish, and I promise I shall never leave my stain upon humanity again.”

Namjoon pales. Could he do it? Create another creature? His guilty conscience cracked into shards at the thought of how much danger the world could be in if you remained resentful. All because of him. He’d have to try.

As the days dwindled, and his wedding to Kyla approached, Namjoon felt the illness which had set in after your creation return. He tossed and turned every night in bed, prone to fits of coughing, and flinched at anything that dared to cross his path. 

You had not contacted him again since the last time you’d spoken, but he felt your presence everywhere. At times, he would feel as though someone was watching him through the window, and Namjoon shuddered.

He’d returned to the university, assuring Kyla and his father that there was urgent work he needed to take care of. Carefully, he began to collect the parts, instantly transported back to those dark days of his first experiment. The madness that lingered dormant returned, but Namjoon pushed on.

As the being neared completion, Namjoon gave it a hard look. While you were gentle and submissive, he feared the consequences of unleashing a male creature onto the world. What if he rejected you, and gave into his baser desires? Men were wretched souls, delighting in murder and despair, and he felt his blood freeze. 

Would the creature even be able to love you the way you desired? Would he be a shoulder to rest on after a hard day, reading you the great works of the poets? Would he be able to consummate a union with you, and bear children? The longer Namjoon thought about all these things, the more uneasy he became.

What you sought was not something the creation of another being could provide. Nor did Namjoon want another being to command your attention and affection. He wishes he could turn back time. All of his past mistakes swirl in his mind, and he realizes that he should have never thrown aside love for ambition. Maybe if he had stayed with Kyla after his mother’s passing, things would have been different. Greater yet, he should have never said yes to his father’s proposal. What kind of relationship could be built on lies?

In a fit of madness, Namjoon chooses the truth to set him free. A single flick of his wrist, and the match is lit. The flames flicker, their gleam reflecting in his eyes, and he throws it upon the half-finished being, sealing its destiny.

Taking in a deep breath, Namjoon pauses. Moments pass by, the ticking of his grandfather clock heard in the night. And then a knock. And another one.

The knocks grow louder and louder, yet Namjoon remains still, watching his breath release into the cold air. Behind him, he hears the door creak softly.

“You broke your promise,” your voice is but a whisper. Namjoon’s chest tightens when he hears how cold and listless it sounds.

“How dare you?” you continue. “How dare you take away my hope?”

Namjoon turns, stalking towards you, his tall figure caging you against the door. You shrink into yourself, glassy eyes boring into his. 

“There was never any hope,” he whispers dangerously. “No one would ever be able to love you like you desire. No one would ever be able to fulfill your outrageous wishes. Except me. You are mine, and mine alone.”

He’s so close to you, he can feel your breath touch his lips, the curve of your neck extending outwards, your eyes never leaving his.

And then, Namjoon snaps, his full lips seeking yours, finally driven mad by the twisted passion that had burrowed itself inside him all along. He is not gentle, crushing you against him, tongue seeking entrance into your mouth.

A choked whine escapes your mouth, and Namjoon feels a tent form in his breeches. However, he doesn’t let up, detaching his lips from yours to leave more fervent kisses on the side of your face, the curve of your jaw, the slope of your neck.

You squirm underneath him, but Namjoon pins you underneath his weight, smirking when he feels your skin heat. His teeth graze the spot where your pulse should lie, and he bites down, rewarded with a sharp gasp from you.

“Could anyone else make you feel like this?” he taunts, licking a stripe against your neck, watching his saliva glisten on your skin in the dark. “Would anyone else kiss you here? Touch you here?”

He cups your heat in his hands, and you let out a broken moan, hips rutting against his warm palm.

“N-namjoon, please,” you sob, tears pricking your eyelashes. The burning inside of you was so unfamiliar, yet you craved more of it. You didn’t crave the touch of another such as yourself. You craved Namjoon. 

“Say it!” he says, his own hips pushing wildly against your, cock throbbing underneath the heavy fabric. “Say you’re mine.”

Your breathing becomes shallow, stomach fluttering as the maddening pressure continues to build and build.

Namjoon groans, feeling your wetness seep into the fabric of his pants, when suddenly, he’s pushed away with a jolt.

Release never comes, your flushed and panting figure staring at him, tear tracks making their way across your solemn face.

“I’m no ragdoll,” you say through clenched teeth. “I am not yours to use and abuse as you wish. I’m not the meek creature you believe me to be anymore. Beware, Namjoon, for I am fearless and therefore powerful.”

His heavy breaths echo in the room as he watches you leave, your dark figure running through the lamp lit streets, and he knows he’ll never be rid of you.

The reckoning comes weeks later, on his wedding day. All day, Namjoon is wracked with nerves, seeming to all the guests as a young man in anticipation of one of life’s great events. But only he knows the truth. 

The ceremony passes by uneventfully. Kyla looks as beautiful as the fresh spring flowers that grew outside his childhood villa, her face beaming with love and pride. Namjoon feels sorry for her. She should have married Jackson instead. He was a man far more noble, far more honest than Namjoon could ever be. He could be her knight, while Namjoon could only be her undoing.

Their first night together passes by in quiet solitude, Kyla’s shyness making itself known once they escape the ceremony. Namjoon brews a cup of tea, tapping his foot anxiously. A scream breaks the silence.

Rushing towards their shared bedroom, Namjoon’s heart stops at the scene he finds. Kyla is sobbing, curled up into a ball in the corner, while you loom over her, a menacing grin distorting your features to make you seem even more frightening.

“I shall tell you the truth about the kind of man you married,” you taunt, and your eyes meet his wide ones.

Frozen in place, Namjoon is powerless to stop you. Truth was the most powerful weapon you had against him. You’d been right the last time he’d seen you. Namjoon was a coward, but you, you were fearless. And you’d use it to ruin him.

Namjoon doesn’t hesitate for a single moment. He speaks not a single word, turning on his heel. Then he runs.

1 September, 17–

My dear sister,

Having heard this strange and fascinating story of horror, does your mind not congeal with horror? Mine surely does. There were many moments during this narrative where Namjoon was seized with a sudden agony, as though he contained the rage of a volcano. I feared he would not be able to continue.

Namjoon has spent his entire life in exile. He tells me that he’s wanted in England for witchcraft, and that after his departure, his father’s heart broke tremendously, and he passed. I’ve never seen a more lonely man. 

And yet, he seeks to end his torment. Wishing to be lonely no more, he only wishes to find ___, to speak to her one last time. And then he wishes to rest.

In speaking to him, I wonder if my own journey of lofty ambition will inevitably be the anchor that sinks our vessel. Many a time, I have seen our perilous condition, and wondered if all this was worth it.  Will it be worth it to never set foot on land again, to never see my loved ones? To lose your presence forever would be something I could not bear. 

The sailors feel the same way, I fear, for this morning, I was roused by a group of them, shouting in my ear that they demand a mutiny. They demanded that I direct my course back towards England, and that there should be no more rash dangers.

I opened my mouth to agree, but was suddenly interrupted by Namjoon, his cheeks flushed and eyes blazing.

“Is this how you treat your captain? The one who leads you through every danger, who celebrates your every triumph? The journey you undertake is not one of merit because of how calm the waters were, but because you have managed to surmount the most insurmountable of obstacles. Be brave men, men who are honorable, who lay their lives and their pride down for the betterment of humanity. Return home with your heads held high, proud that you did not submit to cowardice.”

As he finished his speech, I could see that he was flushed, struggling to breathe, and I braced myself for his imminent collapse. Among the crew, there were hushed whispers, but no visceral reaction, and I saw Namjoon’s shoulders slump, his sunken figure almost deprived of life itself.

12 September, 17–

Dear sister,

It is done. We shall start our journey to return in a few days. Namjoon’s condition worsened, and he pulled me to his bedside after his visit with the surgeon.

“I am dying,” he said. “I do not think I’ll ever find ___ again, or be able to say these sacred words that I’ve been keeping in my heart for so many years. And so, Jungkook, I entrust them to you. I regret that for the majority of my life, I’ve been torn in between a battle of head and heart for my entire life. I sought to develop a creation, one that could push the boundaries of science and humanity as we knew it. But I should have remembered that nothing, and no one, is perfect. I should have been prepared to accept my faults. Along the way, I forgot that ___ was not merely a pawn for my use, but someone who I owed a duty to. It was my duty to ensure her long lasting prosperity and happiness as her creator, but I eschewed my duty because I was scared. I was a coward, and even bigger of a fool for creating someone I could not love properly. I fear I have committed her, and myself, to a life of eternal despair. Seek happiness in your tranquility, Jungkook. Do not fall prey to ambition, for as many lives as you think you can change, you may also ruin.”

Half an hour later, Namjoon was gone. I mourned his loss deeply, sister, for he was an extraordinary soul. My heart aches for the cruel way he left the world, despairing and aching inside, forever doomed to restlessness.

Soon after his passing, I was watching the ice float around us on the deck, when I heard a rustling from the cabin, where the remains of Namjoon lay. Over him hung a form which I could not describe, but recognized instantly. A woman, but with uncouth and distorted proportions. Silent tears fell from her face onto Namjoon’s pale ghostly body. I took in a sharp intake of breath, and she turned, stopping at my presence, and the jolting to the window.

“Wait,” I called out to her. “Please stay, ___.”

“How do you know my name?” she says. “What did he tell you?”

“I know your story,” I said to her. “I know the circumstances of your entry into this world, and the misfortunes of your life.”

“You may know,” she responds. “But you shall never understand. You shall never understand how I roamed the earth, miserable and alone. So many times, I wished I could just give in and become the monster that Namjoon always saw me as. And he would watch, as his fallen angel became a malignant devil.”

She looked forlornly upon Namjoon’s still figure, and there was such a sad yet unbelievably tender expression on her face, that my heartstrings felt as though they were being tugged by the dogs on the sledge Namjoon kept looking for.

“Namjoon will never know how much I loved him,” she sobs. “He’ll never know how I would have given the world to become someone he could love back, the woman he wanted with his entire heart, and not the monster I am.”

She turns towards me, pointing her shaking index finger towards where her heart should lay.

“From now on, he won’t have to worry. I shall quit this vessel and become the architect of my own demise, disappearing to somewhere where I can perish alone.”

As I listened to her, I could not help but marvel at how these two disparate, wretched creatures had found one another. The story of their undoing caused my chest to tighten, and I thought of you then, dear sister. I thought of your smiling face, and the care you have shown to me, and I realized how unlucky these souls had been to live their lives without love. Namjoon had perished, losing the love of his mother, his fiancée, his creation, and most of all himself. His cowardice and abhorrence for his creation had turned him into a shell of a man, and he wasted away.

I could not let that happen again.

“Please wait,” I interrupted ___. “What if there was a way? What if you could live your life freely and bravely, and not be doomed to the same miserable existence as Namjoon? Would you take it?”

Her breath hitches, and she slumps against the wall, eyes devoid of emotion, as though she is lost in thought.

“There are no guarantees that I would be accepted by anyone,” she says. “Namjoon could not accept me for who I was.”

“Namjoon was but one wretched man on this earth. The world is full of many kind ones, including myself. Come stay with me and my sister. We can introduce to our world, and help you live a life that’s peaceful and content, one where you would be comfortable. We wouldn’t push you, of course, but be there to help you whenever you desire to experience something new.”

“I’m afraid,” she sobs. 

“And that is understandable,” I said. “There are many things to be afraid of. Even I was afraid when I undertook this extraordinary journey. But when we cast our fears aside, we can discover wonderful things. We can discover new places, new ideas. We can find light, laughter, and maybe even love.”

“Love?” she said. “Do you think there could be someone who loves me out there?”

“I think you can try,” I said. “Now will you join me?”

Her cold palm enveloped my warm one, the fingers clutching on tightly to mine. I made a promise then that I would never let ___ go. And so now, we make our way back to you, sister, transversing the darkness and distance to be borne by the waves to our home.

Sincerely yours,

Captain Jeon Jungkook

fin. 

A/N pt. 2: Thanks for reading! As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜