#hes only been here a couple months and he already has so much to say on the guys and heaps praises

[obsessedwithceleste]

You Can Say You Love Me Now

Theodore Nott x reader

Summary: A little fake dating trope, just in time for Valentine's day

word count: 3k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

It was the perfect plan really. Or it had seemed like it at the time. When fueled by frustration, love, and desperation, what could go wrong? Theo had loved you for as long as he could remember and he wasn’t afraid to admit that. To himself at least. But to you, well, that was a bit more challenging.

Coming from a pure blood family, a sacred 28 family no less, Theodore’s fate had been sealed long before he was even born. Destined to marry another rich, pure blood heiress, have children, and secure the Nott legacy another generation. All ridiculous nonsense if you asked Theodore. What was the point of tradition anyway? Pretty much everyone who cared was already dead, so what did it matter?

Unfortunately for Theo, his father was not dead and had been trying to find a suitable match for what felt like years at this point. Names of witches that Theo couldn’t even match a face to had been floated by, but Theo had spoiled each and every potential match and his father had been growing increasingly more agitated by the day.

That’s when it had struck him. Kill two birds with one stone. Get his father off his back and gain the perfect opportunity to win over the witch of his dreams. Was it a bit short sighted? Sure. But he wasn’t left with many options at this point and this was as good a plan as any.

“Please principessa, you know what my father’s like. And it would only be a few months.” Theo begged, following close behind you as you make your way through the labyrinth that is the Hogwarts library.

“I am not going to pretend to date you for a few months Theodore. Or at all. That’s actually insane. Besides, no one would believe it anyway. We’ve known each other for how long? No one is going to buy the idea of us just now deciding to go out. Especially not your father. Do you know how long my mother has been trying to set us up?” you sigh, plucking another book off the shelf.

You had known Theodore practically your whole life. The two of you had been best friends since before you could walk. Your earliest memories involved waddling around the gardens of his family’s manor as your mothers watched on in thrilled bliss. There was simply no way the two of you would be fooling anyone.

“Well that’s just it isn’t it? Father has been hounding me to court you for ages, he’ll be too relieved to care,” Theo replies, an air of desperation creeping into his voice.

"Yeah, And what do you suppose we'd tell them hmm?" You ask.

"Don't know. We wanted it to happen naturally or some other sappy story. They'll eat it up."

You give your friend a pointed look. This was not the first time he had presented you with a half-baked plan that was certain to go wrong at some point.

“You’re being so ridiculous right now Theodore, this easily makes it on the list of your top ten stupidest ideas.”

“You keep a list?”

“It’s alphabetized.”

Theo has the nerve to look offended.

“Please principessa? I know your family has been on you too. This will buy us both a little time at least,” Theo protests. "Just think, we tell them over winter break, string it along awhile, and then after we've gone our seperate ways we're just too broken hearted to even consider any other possibilities for the future."

In all fairness, the boy was right. Your family had been bothering you for months now, asking if you’d found a special someone. You'd known when Theodore's father began ramping up the pressure for him to find a match that your family wouldn't be far behind, but it was honestly starting to get to be a bit ridiculous. And exhausting.

"It's not even completely incomprehensible. We've been mistaken as a couple before." Theo continues to press.

You glare at your friend, eyes rolling at the mere memory.

six months prior

It had been another one of your mother's usual, stuffy garden parties. The sun had been beating down on you all morning and all you really wanted to do was throw your blasted shoes across the lawn. Who thought it was a sensible idea to be out on the garden's cobblestone paths in scorching heat for hours at a time? This was not your idea of a good time.

"Principessa," Theodore greeted, arm wrapping comfortably around your waist.

"Don't even start, Theodore," you grumbled, leaning into the boy. "I'm tired, I'm hungry, and if my mother tries to make me join one more conversation about the Ministry or some such I'll set the whole garden on fire."

Theodore just laughed, pulled you closer.

"C'mon love. We can sneak off to the lake I reckon. Berkshire just arrived so the mums will all be too busy throwing him at the Greengrass sisters to notice."

Had you felt a bit bad leaving Enzo to the wolves? Sure. But still, you had let Theodore lead you down the path to the lake, collapsing onto the lawn sofa that was perched almost picturesquely on the patio overlooking the glassy water.

You had closed your eyes, feeling yourself relax into Theodore as his fingers combed methodically through your hair. You didn't know how long the both of you had been sitting there simply basking in each other's company when an excited gasp jolted you from your peaceful bliss.

"Oh! Oh my!" the shrill voice of one of your mother's airheaded socialites tittered. "I wasn't aware the both of you were courting! Oh your parents must be so pleased- what with your families being so close and all-"

"We're not courting." You interjected, holding your hand up to stop the women mid sentence.

She had stuttered awkwardly after that before finally shuffling off. Had you been a bit harsh? Perhaps. But you simply hadn't been in any sort of mood to deal with the notion of dating your best friend.

Theodore hadn't said a word, but you could feel him recoil ever so slightly. Not enough for anyone to notice if it hadn't been you. And things were a bit, strained, for the following days. If you could even call it that. And then things went back to normal as if nothing had happened.

You would have forgotten the whole thing, brushed it under the rug as something to laugh about in a few years, if it hadn't left a nagging feeling in the back of your mind.

You had never even allowed yourself to think that you could ever end up with your friend. Sure, years ago your mothers had shared the fantasy of the both of you ending up together one day. You were sure your mother was still convinced it might happen. But no. He would be auctioned off to the family of some wealthy heiress and you would be matched with some boy your parents deemed suitable. It was just how things worked.

Your feared your father was wearing going to wear through the carpet at any moment with the way he was pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace. Your mother sat twiddling her fingers on the sofa across from you, watching your father in exasperation.

Theodore was quite pleased with himself. To be completely honest he really didn't think he'd get this far. But sitting smugly on the sofa of his father's office, arm wrapped securely around you as he faced not only his own father, but your parents as well, he felt on top of the world.

"Well? Is it true? Are you?" your mother asks, finally breaking the silence as she had apparently given up on your father being the first to speak.

Your father had stormed off to Mr. Nott's office before you could even let out a breath, and by the time you and Theodore had finally slunk into the room, your mother was already doing a piss poor job of hiding her excitement.

It had always been a dream of hers for the both of you to end up together one day. It was hardly a kept secret. Maybe Theodore had been right and their blind excitement would stop them from asking too many questions because this was truly horrific.

"Of course it's true! It better be! The way I found him all over y/n," your father interrupts.

Mr. Nott just gazes on, eyes seemingly boring into your soul as Theodore meets his father's stare with cool, nonchalance. The smug bastard.

"Oh it's all we ever hoped for!" Your mother gushes, eyes falling onto the portrait hanging on the wall of the late Mrs. Nott.

"Well. That settles it then. They'll begin courting. Or whatever it is they call it these days," Mr. Nott says finally. "But there will be no more of this, nonsense. Not under my roof."

a few minutes earlier

"After further reassessment, this is the stupidest idea you've ever had," you hiss. Glaring at the brunette boy in front of you.

You were currently perched on one of the many desks lining the library walls of Nott Manor. Theodore was pressed up against the side, warm hands on your thighs holding you securely in place and sending shivers down your spine.

"Hush amore. How else will they be convinced we've been hiding a relationship, hmm?" He asks, slowly guiding one of your arms up to wrap around his neck.

"Oh I don't know. Suppose we just tell them? Ever think of that?"

"Yeah, and how would that go? Hey mum, I've been secretly seeing the son of your dead best friend who you've been trying to set me up with for ages. This is definitely not a distraction. Please believe us." Theo scoffs.

"I'm being serious," you respond, giving the boy a light whack on the shoulder. "When I agreed to the whole 'pretend to go out' bit, this is not what I had in mind."

"We've kissed before," Theo drawls, all nonchalance.

"You know that's not the same Theodore."

Before Theodore is able to respond, likely with another of his dry quips that you had grown to adore (not that you'd ever admit it), the door of the library swings open, footsteps echoing on the marble floors.

You don't even get the chance to fully take in the reality of the situation before Theodore's lips are on yours. It's slow and soft and warm as you feel his thumb softly brushing circles on your inner thigh. A soft gasp escapes you as you melt into the boy.

"What is the meaning of this?" Your father's cutting voice calls out, breaking you from your trance.

You jolt away from Theo, eyes snapping up to meet your father's, face flushed with embarrassment. Theo on the other hand looked quite self-satisfied. Oh you were going to kill him later.

"Both of you. Into the office. Now." Your father snaps out, looking like he was wishing he could obliviate himself in that moment.

"How long are we going to keep this going?" you ask, eyes not quite meeting Theo's as you lean your head against him. It was another warm night in which you and Theodore had managed to sneak up to the astronomy tower.

Your visits to the astronomy tower had started back in fourth year. It seemed like forever ago. And now you looked forward to nothing as much as nights spent with Theodore gazing up at the sky. The nights were different now though, you supposed.

It had been what? Five months now? You were almost certain it was five months, but those months seemed to have flown by in bliss. You hadn't realized how easy it would be. You and Theodore seemed to have been carefully tip toeing the line between friendship and more for years. You simply hadn't put the pieces together. It had been a bit clunky at first sure. Awkward maybe. But this was perfect. Standing in Theodore's arms as the stars above you seemed to go on forever. Perfect.

three-ish months prior

"Shut up. Shut. Up. You're joking," Daphne squeals, eyes locking onto your fingers which are tightly interlocked with Theo's as you enter your dorm room.

Something you seemed to have overlooked when agreeing to Theodore's dating scheme, was the fact that an integral part of the plan involved selling the lie to your closest friends.

It was much more difficult than you had anticipated.

You had spent the first initial month spending all your free time with Theodore, never really leaving his side. Apparently this didn't seem out of the ordinary. The flowers sent to your dorm didn't elicit a single reaction from your roommate, nor did Theodore's constant pet names. No, what really did it apparently, was the hand holding. Scandalous.

Your friends never failed to miss an opportunity to humble you.

"Took them long enough. Don't know why you're so shocked Daph," Mattheo replies dryly from his spot on the floor, papers scattered around him. He doesn’t even bother to look up.

"Well duh. We all knew they'd end up together eventually. Just didn't think they'd figure it out while we were still in school." Daph responds matter of factly. “Ugh. I owe Pansy 25 galleons now.” She groans, a frown appearing on her face.

"We can hear you, you know," Theo drawls, raising an eyebrow.

"Well it isn't as if the two of you have been subtle about it. Always holed up together in the library for hours at a time doing gods knows what."

"We study together," you reply, feeling the need to defend yourself.

"You’ve also attend every single ball together since, ever," Mattheo adds.

"Better that then go with whatever tossers our parents dig up."

"I've found the both of you asleep in Theodore's bed on more than one occasion."

"As friends."

"Right. You'd sleep together as friends, but drew the line at hand holding." Daphne says dryly. "You're both hopeless."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Y/n, I damn near saw you hex Theo's hand off in fifth year when he tried to hold your hand, and even that wasn't solid proof that you two weren't already going out." Daphne snorts. "Hopeless."

"C'mon Daph, let's leave the love birds to it then," Mattheo says, gathering his papers. "Make good choices. Don't do anything I'd do," he calls as the two of them make a quick exit.

As soon as the door slams shut, you turn to look at Theo as if to ask 'what on Earth was that about?'

“They make fair points,” he says with a shrug, pulling you onto the bed with him.

"We weren't being obvious about anything Theodore. There was nothing there to begin with." You reply, allowing him to pull you onto his chest.

You knew there hadn't been anything there before, or at least you thought there wasn't, because this was all very new. Sure before you might've fallen asleep in the same bed after staying up until 3 am studying for your charms exam, but you'd certainly never seen Theodore look at you like this before. And you'd certainly never felt his hand creep under your shirt to rub soft circles across your rib cage. You'd definitely never felt your heart try to beat out of your chest like this. Or maybe you had.

"Is it really so absurd to think we've always been so close?" Theo asks, eyes very clearly focused on your lips. Not that you noticed of course.

"Maybe not," you reply, letting your head fall to rest on the boy's chest.

This was nice you thought to yourself as Theo's lips pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head.

"How long do you want to keep going?" Theo asks after a moment.

"Don't know," you reply, feeling his eyes on you as you continue gazing out at the sky in front of you.

"Another month?" Theo asks carefully, pulling you ever closer.

You can feel your heart begin to race at the idea of it all ending so soon. You shake your head.

"You want to end it sooner?" Theo asks, voice wavering ever so slightly.

You shake your head again. You hear Theodore's sharp breath as he realizes your implication and you feel yourself growing increasingly more nervous as the silence stretches on.

You'd really, truly never allowed yourself to consider the idea of ending up with Theo. You knew that simply wasn't how the world worked. And frankly the idea of rejection couldn't even be a possibility. You couldn't allow yourself to lose your best friend. Or maybe you could. This was all his idea to begin with after all.

"What if we just kept going?" You ask finally, feeling the weight of the world lift off your shoulders.

Theo's arms tear away from you as he turns you to face him, hand holding your chin firmly in place, forcing your eyes to meet.

"Don't play with me like this, principessa," he says, voice all seriousness as his eyes scan your face, searching for anything that might suggest you're joking with him.

"I'm not."

And just like that, Theo's lips are on yours once more. They seemed to find themselves there a lot lately, melting your mind to absolute mush as he pulled you closer. You could feel your back, now pressed up against one of the marble pillars of the tower as Theo's lips moved slowly from your lips to your jawline, and carefully down the side of your neck.

"You can say you love me now," He whispers into your ear, his warm breath giving you chills as his hands continue to wander.

"I love you," you gasp out.

"Sorry, who?" he pushes, leaving little pecks across your jawline once more.

"Theo. I love you, Theodore," You say finally, just as Theo presses another kiss to your lips.

"And I love you, amore."

Did I start this well over a year ago? Yes I did, thank you for asking. Did I change the title three different times? Absolutely I did. Am I posting this before editing? Also yes. Cope.

[rosylix]

Hii! I've never requested but I can't get this idea out of my mind..

So basically Felix and reader have been college roommates for a year or two but Felix ends up falling for them and has to tell them cos it’s only a few months till graduation.

Totally understand if you can't do it, but thought I'd ask!

everglow

𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉𝒾𝒸𝓊𝓁𝒶𝓇 𝒹𝒾𝒶𝓂𝓸𝓃𝒹 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓮𝓍𝓉𝓇𝒶 𝓈𝓅𝓮𝒸𝒾𝒶𝓁

your best friend and roommate is acting especially sentimental tonight. you try to get to the bottom of it

pairing: felix × gn!reader

wc: 6.3k

content: college au, friends to lovers, feelings realization, shy felix, oblivious reader, fluff, light angst, crying?, pouty lix, kissing, mildly suggestive?, hopeful ending

a/n: my first fulfilled request?? i apologize if this was sitting in my inbox for forever.. i wasn't planning on writing a whole thing but then suddenly. i had an epiphany. ty for helping me out of writers block anon 🫶 i hope this is kinda how you were envisioning it!

[also read on ao3]

—

Your college dorm is a familiar sight, the mess of papers and coffee cups giving away the fact that the end of the year is fast approaching. You've been sharing this space with Felix for the past couple years, both of you working hard to keep your grades up and—hopefully, somehow—graduate?

…You're sure it'll be fine. As long as you do well enough on your capstone project, which is why you're sitting at Felix's desk, dutifully researching. Sometimes you take to his room when you need a change of scenery or just want company; though it's just you right now as Felix had to leave for class earlier.

You're just about to take a stretch break when you hear the front door open and soon enough, Felix trudges into the room. “Still here?” he says when he sees you.

“Unfortunately.” You set your things down and look over at him with a long sigh to convey your exhaustion.

“Dude, same,” he groans, tossing his bag on the floor before flopping down on his bed. “I don't think I've ever been so fucking tired in my life. Why did I pursue higher education again?”

That gets you to laugh a little. “Maybe for some kind of high-paying job and… a sense of accomplishment?” you suggest.

He lets out another groan, rolling over on his side. “But at what fucking cost? Sleep deprivation and a caffeine addiction?” He looks at you with wide, pleading eyes. “Remind me why I'm doing this again.”

You get up and walk over to his bed, sitting down on the edge next to him, a playful smile on your face. “Well, I seem to recall someone who said they wanted to be some hot shot computer engineer.”

He props himself up on one elbow to face you. “Ooh, you think I'm hot?” he says, wiggling his eyebrows.

You give him a look that hopefully conveys how much of an idiot you think he is. “Hot shot, dumbass.” 

…Still, it would be dishonest to disagree: your roommate is attractive. Anyone with a working set of eyes can see that.

“Ohh, I see. You think I'm hot shit?”

You roll your eyes so far back it almost hurts. “As if you don't hear that enough.”

He grins, clearly amused and clearly not above shamelessly fishing for compliments. “Oh, but it's so much more fun to hear it from you,” he teases, leaning back against his pillow.

You give him a withering glare but he just reaches out and pats the spot next to him on the bed. “Come sit down.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “I am literally sitting down.”

“Okay, well, closer, genius.”

You sigh exaggeratedly, but you humor him anyway, scooting over closer to where he's lounging on the bed. You thought that was enough, but this is Felix, and you should have known better. He reaches out and grabs your wrist, gently but firmly tugging you down next to him.

He shifts so he's on his side facing you and grins, clearly satisfied. His hair is messy and there's a hint of dark circles under his eyes, but he still manages to look unfairly attractive.

You shake your head at his antics and let out a long sigh. “Well… You've already made it this far, you know,” you tell him. “Only a few months left of dealing with school, and then you're done.”

“...Yeah.”

He's quiet for a moment, his gaze drifting across your face, a hint of something almost like melancholy in his eyes.

“Why am I kinda sad, though?” he finally asks with a chuckle.

You blink. “Sad? About being done with school?”

He nods. “I mean, I want to be done, god, believe me I do, but…” He blows out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “I dunno, it just doesn't feel as good as I expected it to. And I'm…” He pauses, clearly thinking his words over.

“I'm… gonna miss this, honestly. A lot.”

“This?” You gesture around the room. "You're going to miss this? Our tiny-ass, overpriced apartment?"

He laughs at that. “Not this place, I guess.”

“Then? The constant lack of sleep? Exams? The shitty cafeteria food?”

“Please,” Felix scoffs before taking a deep breath, looking somewhere behind you. “I'm… going to miss this." He looks back at you and pokes your shoulder for emphasis. “This. Us living together. Hanging out all the time. I'm going to miss that.”

You blink, a little taken aback at his earnestness. “Oh,” you say intelligently. “Yeah. I…”

You try to ignore the way your heart is suddenly in your throat. In truth, you've been doing your best not to think about it, how things will inevitably change after graduation.

“I mean…” you start. “It's not like we're never going to see each other again or something. We'll keep in touch, right?” But even as you say it, you feel yourself deflating. It’s not the same.

His expression reflects yours, his smile soft but a little sad around the edges. “...Of course we will.” He sounds like he's saying it as much to himself as he is to you. 

He's silent for another moment, his fingers gently running over the blanket, not quite meeting your gaze.

“It won't… be the same though,” he says, mirroring your own thoughts. “Like— you know? I'm gonna miss the convenience store we always go to at 2AM, I'm gonna miss our late-night study sessions and the shitty coffee you make, I'm gonna miss how you always use up the hot water in the shower and your annoying alarm waking me up at fuck-ass in the morning—” He suddenly cuts off, a flush rising in his cheeks.

He turns on his back again, slinging an arm over his eyes. “Ugh, I don't know, just shut up and let me wallow in my feelings.”

You're honestly a little speechless. All that, things he claims are annoying — he's going to miss it all that much?

“Hey,” you say gently, nudging his shoulder. “Hey, you sap, look at me.”

“No. I'm wallowing.”

You roll your eyes. “I can see that.” You poke his arm. Then again, harder. “Come on, look at me.”

Felix huffs dramatically, lowering his arm and turning his head to look at you from the corner of his eye. “What? I’m looking.”

Your heart clenches at the sight of him. He's pouting, looking a little petulant but still so endearingly cute, and you can definitely see the hint of embarrassment in his gaze as he peeks at you.

You let a smile spread across your face. “You're gonna miss me.”

Felix averts his gaze, his cheeks going a little pinker. “I mean, a little, I guess,” he mumbles, before letting out a heavy, dramatic sigh. “Ugh, why are you looking at me like that? Don't let it go to your head or anything.”

It's so obvious that it's more than just a little — but you decide not to call him out on it. Instead, you lean forward, propping yourself up with one arm. “Too late,” you tease, grinning widely. “You're gonna miss me so much.”

He groans, throwing his forearm over his eyes again. "Whatever. Shut up.”

You look at him silently for a moment, taking in his flushed face and his messy hair. God, he's so cute. You've always been aware of how pretty he is, but there's something about seeing him like this, completely unguarded and vulnerable, that's making your lungs feel tight.

You clear your throat awkwardly, shifting your gaze away from him. “Hey, come on, cheer up.”

“No,” he says, still hiding his face behind his arm. “I'll just lay here and wallow and die."

“So dramatic,” you chide, poking his side roughly, trying to distract yourself from your own thoughts. You're starting to feel a little flustered too.

He whines at the contact, swatting at your hand, but you notice he hasn't moved his other arm away from his face. “Ow, hey, violence,” he complains, curling away from your fingers. “Ow, ow, dude—”

You reach out and grab his wrist, pulling his hand away from his face. He lets out a half-hearted protest, but doesn’t get the chance to resist.

Oh. His eyes are shining.

You freeze. 

He's pouting again, but it's less childish now and more vulnerable, embarrassed. For a moment you just sort of stare, suddenly hyper-aware of how close the two of you are. His face is so close, so pretty, and your heart is doing something strange, beating rapidly in your chest.

“You’re—” You clear your throat, struggling with what to say. You… hadn’t realized how much this was impacting him.

He looks away and blinks hard, but his eyes are still a bit misty, unshed tears stubbornly sticking to his eyelashes. ���Sorry. I'm being stupid,” he finally says, his voice a little quiet. “Ignore me, I'm just being weird, it's—” He swallows. “...I'm tired.”

Oh, god. You've been joking and teasing and making fun, but now you just feel like the biggest jerk, because he's actually really upset about this.

“Wait, no,” you murmur, suddenly serious. “No, it’s not— You're not being stupid. I—” You're having a lot more trouble than usual forming coherent sentences.

Your hand is still around his wrist, your fingers pressing against his pulse point. You squeeze it lightly. “It's okay.” You can feel the rapid beating of his heart, in contrast to the rest of him lying completely still. “It's not stupid. I’m— I'm gonna miss you too, idiot.”

He lets out a wet sounding laugh at that, rolling his eyes, but he doesn’t pull his arm away from your grip. “So mean,” he says. “Do you have to insult me to say nice things?”

“Well, yeah.”

The corners of his mouth twitch and you feel a bit of relief that you've managed to cheer him up a little.

“But you mean it?” He looks up at you with a shy expression. “You're gonna miss me?”

“Of course,” you say, suddenly struck by how much you mean it. “Yeah, I am. A lot.”

He lets out a low breath, eyes flicking over your face. “Yeah?” he says quietly. 

It's silent for a moment. Felix is still looking at you, a little shyly, and it's driving you a little crazy. He sighs, his brow pinched slightly, like he’s struggling with some internal conflict. You wait patiently, giving him space to express what he wants to say.

But he doesn't. Just averts his eyes and blinks harshly at the wall behind you.

“Please don't cry or I'll start crying too,” you say with a bit of a nervous laugh.

Felix lets out a shaky breath. “...I’m not going to cry.”

You give him a look. 

“I’m not,” he insists, using his free hand to rub his eyes. “I have allergies or something, I just— I—”

He hesitates, clearly trying to gather his thoughts. 

“Okay, look,” he sits up, pulling his wrist free from your grip and taking a deep breath. “It's just— I…” He stops, running a hand through his hair nervously. 

“Felix?” you ask, sitting up too. You're starting to get a little concerned. Why is the mood suddenly so weird?

He groans, burying his face in his hands, his voice muffled when he speaks. “This is embarrassing.”

It doesn't help your concern. “What’s embarrassing?” you ask carefully, trying to keep your voice steady.

“This,” he mutters, still hiding his face.

You hesitate a moment, not really knowing what to do, before tentatively reaching out and touching his arm. “Um… It's fine, you can talk to me.”

He lets out a frustrated breath before finally looking at you. “You’re not gonna like it.”

Oh. “Well… Did you… like, kill someone or something?”

Felix stares at you for a moment, clearly trying to keep a straight face but his lips twitch a little. “No, I didn’t kill anyone, you psychopath,” he says dryly.

“Okay, well, good,” you say, clearing your throat. “No illegal activities? The government isn't after you?”

“I… No,” he says slowly.

This conversation is taking a bizarre turn. “And you're not, like… secretly an alien sent to spy on humans this whole time? And… now you have to return to your home planet to plot the annihilation of Earth?”

That finally gets Felix to laugh. “You're— you're a fucking idiot,” he says through giggles. “Seriously.”

“I’m just checking,” you say, crossing your arms. “You're being all weird and shit and…” you gesture vaguely. “Maybe you're an alien. I don't know.”

That only sets him off giggling again. “Oh my god,” he says, leaning his forehead on your shoulder, his body shaking with laughter. “Why are you so dumb.”

You roll your eyes, just relieved to see him smile. He's much more relaxed now, the mood in the room lifted with his laughter. All part of your plan. You're more than happy to appear ridiculous if it means seeing him laugh.

He finally stops laughing, though he’s still smiling a little as he lifts his head and looks at you. He’s much closer than you anticipated, and you try not to be too distracted by the freckles around his eyes and the way his eyelashes flutter when he blinks as his gaze flicks across your face. He’s looking at you intently, and the air in the room feels charged, electric almost.

“You…” he starts, but hesitates, cutting himself off with a shake of his head. “Why are you so dumb,” he repeats.

Wow. “Now who's being mean?” you pout.

He laughs again, but it’s softer than before, a shaky, nervous sound. “God, I— this is so stupid, I—”

He lets out a frustrated breath, staring directly into your eyes, his expression intense and focused. “How do you not notice,” he mutters under his breath.

You’re frozen under his gaze, your heart suddenly in your throat. “Notice… what?”

Felix closes his eyes. “Nevermind. It doesn’t matter.”

What? “It seems like it matters since you’re…”

He opens his eyes again, looking a bit pained as he looks at you. “Just… just forget it.”

You don’t know what to say. You can feel your heart beating wildly in your chest, your hands shaking slightly. “Uh… okay,” you say. “Sorry for… being dumb…?”

He grimaces. “No, I didn't mean it like—”

He lets out a long, heavy breath, shaking his head. Then he reaches out and takes your hand, his fingers brushing against your wrist.

His voice is quieter when he speaks, looking down, idly playing with your fingers. “Just… you’re supposed to notice,” he mumbles, almost to himself. “It’s supposed to be obvious.”

You stare at him, confused and flustered and… honestly, a little distracted by how he's touching your hand. “What's… uhh, what?” Everything feels like it's too much all of a sudden, and your chest is really starting to do something weird.

He sighs. “Nevermind. Seriously.”

There's a moment of silence before he speaks again. “When we graduate,” he starts. “...Which I guess is really soon, huh.”

The way he says it makes your chest pang painfully. He’s still not looking at you. “I won’t see you anymore…” he murmurs, his voice so quiet you can barely hear him.

You grab his hand, stopping him from fiddling with your fingers, and squeeze gently. “Hey,” you say. “C’mon, it’s not like that.”

He huffs out a bitter laugh. “Isn't it, though?”

It kind of feels like you’ve been punched in the gut. This isn't like him, he's usually the one full of sunshine and optimism, reassuring you. But right now, the defeat in his voice is palpable.

The reality of the situation starts sinking in. Time’s almost up.

“Felix,” you say quietly, and he finally lifts his eyes up from his lap to look at you. His eyes are watery again.

He swallows, his voice breaking a little as he speaks. “Sorry, I’m being… I’m being unfair, I just…” He hesitates before continuing. “I don’t want to not see you.”

You frown, tears pricking your eyes now too. You don't trust your voice to speak, throat feeling tight and uncomfortable.

“And you’re just… so oblivious,” he continues, his finger tracing over your knuckles. “So stubborn, and dumb, and you’re probably the most annoying person I’ve ever met in my life and I seriously cannot believe I like—”

He cuts off suddenly, slapping a hand over his mouth.

Wait.

“Felix,” you murmur, and his eyes dart up to meet yours, a little panicked. He tries to jerk his hand away from yours, but you hold on tighter, keeping him in place.

“Felix,” you repeat, your skin buzzing from the way he’s looking at you. “You can’t just… leave me hanging like that.”

He looks away, face a brilliant crimson red. “Yeah, I can.”

You almost want to laugh. You didn’t realize he could be so shy, but you can’t focus on that now, because your heart is racing and you can’t tell if you’re going to pass out, or pass away.

“No, you can’t,” you say shakily. “When are you gonna tell me? At the commencement ceremony?”

He lets out a half-choked, almost hysterical sort of laugh, keeping his head turned away so he doesn’t have to look at you. “Yeah, something like that.”

He has to be joking. “That’s months away!”

“And?”

You shake your head, feeling dizzy. “I’m not gonna wait that long, are you insane?”

He huffs and glares at you, pouting. “Oh, well I’m sorry, would you just rather I shout it from the fucking roof tops then? Hey, everyone, I’ve been in love with my best friend since freshman year!”

What.

You blink, stunned speechless, your eyes wide. 

Your mind is spinning, the air in the room suddenly too thick to breathe. The words in love keep ringing in your ears, over and over again.

“You— you what?” you manage to get out, feeling a little faint. You must not have heard him correctly. You're hallucinating, or having a stroke or… something. He can't actually mean—

Felix winces. “...Fuck.” he mutters, dropping his head into his hands.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, brain still struggling to catch up to the situation. You’re still processing that he said the word love, when the last few words register.

“Wait— freshman year?” you say incredulously. “You’ve— since—?”

He’s clearly trying to act somewhat composed but the bright red on his ears betrays him. “Um. Yeah. Shut up. Stop talking,” he says, voice muffled from behind his hands.

You think about the past few years of your life, every interaction with him, and it’s like everything suddenly clicks into place.

The way his ears turn pink whenever you compliment him. The way you could always get under his skin so easily. You think about every time he got defensive, or huffy, or pouty at something innocuous you did or said.

…The way he's never really shown interest in anyone, despite the plenty of interest shown his way. The countless people he's turned down, for seemingly no reason. When you'd questioned him about it, he'd just laughed awkwardly and said he preferred to focus on his studies.

“Oh my god,” you say again.

Felix groans and hides his face further, his ears practically on fire. “Stop. Don't,” he mutters. “It's okay. Just… pretend you never heard that, okay, it's fine—”

“No.”

It’s silent for a moment, Felix still hiding his face, and your mind still swirling with thoughts. 

You kind of want to kiss him.

The realization is sudden, but not entirely unexpected. It’s not really a surprise, honestly, just another thing that feels natural. Maybe because deep down, of course somewhere along the line you've developed feelings for the person you can trust with anything, who gets you more than anyone else. Your favorite person in the world.

You’re only half in your right mind as you grab his wrists, pulling his hands off of his face.

“You ass,” you say, staring directly at him.

He looks at you with wide, panicked eyes. “I'm sorry—” he starts, but you cut him off.

“Can I kiss you?” 

He chokes, eyes going even wider. He opens his mouth, then closes it, clearly caught off guard. After a moment, he manages to find his voice, though it’s very high pitched and shaky. “What?”

You take a deep breath. “Can I kiss you,” you repeat, your head feeling fuzzy, your pulse pounding in your ears.

“…What?” he asks again. His face is bright red. “Are— are you serious?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” you murmur, leaning even closer, your faces almost touching.

His breath catches, and his eyes dart between your eyes and your lips. “Please say you’re not,” he manages to say, voice breaking.

“I’m not,” you say, feeling a little crazy. Insane, maybe. You can’t really bring yourself to care. “Can I?”

He doesn't give you an answer, letting out an incredulous breath before grabbing the front of your shirt and yanking you forward as he falls back so you land on top of him.

You’re about to protest at the continued lack of a clear answer, but then he’s kissing you and you forget how to speak.

It's not the most graceful kiss, you’re both a little clumsy, but it’s sweet and it’s Felix and that’s all that really matters. You figure it out quickly, getting into a rhythm, and he lets out a shaky breath against your mouth, his hand moving to tangle in your hair. You feel like you’re dreaming, or drowning, or both.

Felix is kissing you. Felix is kissing you. Your closest friend. He’s in love with you, and he’s kissing you.

It makes your head spin. After several moments, you finally pull away, panting and dizzy. You feel a little delirious, staring down at him, both of you catching your breath.

His head falls back against the pillow, face turning impossibly red as he blinks at you like he’s in shock. You laugh a little and he huffs, but his eyes soften.

“So… you, uh— You— Are you—?”

You cut him off with another touch of your lips, effectively shutting him up. He instantly melts into it, tightens his grip in your hair, pulling you further into the kiss, and you can’t think straight, everything is just Felix. 

After a while, you’re forced to break away again for air. Felix whines at the loss of contact, eyes half-lidded, his cheeks flushed. You only manage to get a few breaths in before he's pulling you down into another kiss, more urgently this time.

You let out a surprised noise, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. He seems to be determined to kiss you senseless, and it’s working. 

He bites your bottom lip, making you gasp into his mouth. He mumbles something in response, his thigh sliding between your legs, and your brain short-circuits.

Okay. You shiver. Okay. You should probably… You manage to pull away for a much needed breath and Felix tries to chase after your mouth, but you press a hand to his chest to hold him in place.

He groans, looking frustrated, but flops back against the pillow obediently. He blinks at you dazedly, his own chest heaving, eyes half-lidded and dark, but his expression quickly morphs into a pout. “Why… Why…?” he complains, trying to tug you closer again.

You huff a weak laugh, shaking your head, and he gives you a wide-eyed look, all innocence and sweetness, and that's not fair that he can look like this after all of that.

“Just— one sec,” you somehow get out, your mind still completely overloaded. “We should… uh…”

He’s still trying to reach your mouth. “What,” he mutters, breathing heavily against your neck.

“Talk,” you manage to say, even as his lips make their way to your jaw. “We should… we need to… oh my god—”

You cut off, stifling a gasp as he sucks on your skin. “Felix,” you say, trying to be stern, but it comes out like a moan instead.

“Mm?” he hums against your ear, completely unapologetic. “You want to… talk?”

“Yeah.” It takes all your willpower to pull away, ignoring how he whines in protest. You sit up and take a moment to compose yourself, willing yourself to ignore the urge to just give in to him.

Felix flops back onto the bed, throwing his arm over his eyes as he sighs, his voice sounding a little raspy.

“Sorry,” he mutters, his ears red. “Sorry, god, I've thought about this so much, I just—”

Oh. “You’ve… thought about…? How much…?”

He makes a strangled noise and covers his face more thoroughly, voice muffled. “Oh my god,” he groans, “I'm going to fucking die. I… a lot.”

…Okay. Okay. Deep breaths. Okay.

“...How much is a lot?” you ask, unable to resist your curiosity. And maybe you want to tease him about it. Just a little.

He groans again. “So, so much. An embarrassing and pathetic amount.” He’s not even trying to hide his pouting. “Can you please not make me say the actual words.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing, but the way he sounds — breathless and embarrassed — it’s honestly kind of adorable. He’s always so confident in most aspects of his life that you kind of love seeing him so flustered.

“Please… don’t,” he mumbles, peeking at you. “I’m begging you…”

He's blinking up at you, the picture of innocence once again. He glances up at you through his eyelashes, all pretty and delicate and ugh, he's absolutely doing this on purpose.

“You’re distracting,” you say weakly, staring down at him. “Stop making cute faces at me.”

He does not stop making cute faces. He tries though, lowering his hands as his face drops into a scowl. “I’m not making a cute face,” he protests.

“Yeah, you are,” you say, raising an eyebrow. “You’re doing it right now. Your pouty thing.”

He sniffs. “I'm not,” he says petulantly, though there’s a hint of mirth in his eyes. “This is just my regular face. It’s not my fault if my face is cute.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, okay.”

He opens his mouth to respond but you cut him off with a finger, placing it over his lips. His mouth instantly snaps shut, and you can’t resist a little grin as he looks up at you with wide eyes. 

You watch as he swallows, his eyes fixed on you, and, not for the first time, you’re reminded of how pretty he is. He’s always been gorgeous, in an objective sort of way, but you feel like you’re seeing him for the first time.

You move your hand away and take a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. You need to talk about this while you’re both still somewhat coherent, or you’ll go absolutely insane.

“So…” You’re a little pleased with how steady your voice is, considering the circumstances. “You… love me.”

Felix coughs and covers his face again. “Do you have to say it like that,” he groans, his voice muffled by his palms.

“You never… you never said anything.” 

He just shrugs, still hiding his face. “I was scared to lose you,” he says with a shaky breath. “I didn’t expect you to want me back…” There's no bitterness in his tone, just disbelief.

You frown. “But you’re—” You bite your tongue. Felix was worried about you not wanting him?

You shake your head, a somewhat acrid feeling welling up inside of you. You've seen firsthand the sheer amount of attention he gets from people, from the random gifts and outright confessions and people slipping him numbers and notes everywhere he goes. There's never been a shortage of interest in him, from all sorts of people. Compared to him, you're… nothing.

“So… this whole time, you just… thought I was clueless?” You're still trying to wrap your head around it.

He sighs. “I mean, kind of,” he says, his eyes peeking through his fingers. “You’ve been completely oblivious to anyone who’s ever flirted with you.” 

Including me, he doesn't say, but you're starting to put the pieces together.

You wince, your face flushing. “I’m not that oblivious,” you protest weakly. “I just… I’ve never been particularly interested in… anyone.” 

Felix stares at you, one eyebrow raised.

“Like…” It's true that you've never really liked anyone very strongly in all your time at college. Some fleeting crushes here and there, but even the few people you had tried to go on dates with always felt lacking in some inexplicable way. You always felt much better as soon as you'd come home to your shared space with Felix, always feeling the most comfortable in his presence. Was that it? All this time, no one could ever compare to your best friend? 

And the constant attention Felix would get… It annoyed the hell out of you. At first, you would tease him, even encourage him to give them a chance, delight in the way his face would turn bright red. But it quickly became so annoying watching him have to navigate awkward conversations, politely turn people down. Sure, a part of you was probably a bit insecure always watching him receive so much attention. At least, that's what you told yourself. But beyond that, you think you're finally starting to understand the feeling for what it is.

Jealousy.

“Oh my god.” You’re starting to realize what a mess this entire situation is. “We're both idiots.”

Felix finally drops his hands from his face, giving you a dry look. “Speak for yourself.”

"Shut up," you say absently, not even annoyed. Your head is reeling.

This is… a mess. Felix is in love with you, you’re pretty sure the feeling has been mutual for a while, and you’re both leaving this place in just a few months. 

“So… you’ve never liked anyone before?” Felix asks. His tone is a bit teasing, though there's curiosity beneath.

You make a face. “Um.” Yeah, that's what you thought for the past couple years until now. How much do you reveal?

All of the puzzle pieces are clicking into place in your mind, making your head hurt even more. So much time wasted, you want to cry.

“I guess no one ever compared to you,” you say without thinking, and immediately slap your hand over your face.

“Oh.” There’s a second of silence as you both process the words.

Then, Felix starts laughing.

“Oh my god,” he mutters, struggling to contain himself, barely managing to keep his laughter under control. Your face is growing redder by the second, embarrassed and annoyed.

“Will you stop?” you whine.

“I’m sorry, I just—” he tries to get himself together, taking a deep breath before looking at you fondly. “This is the corniest fucking shit I've ever— holy shit. We're actually both stupid.”

“I told you,” you say, smacking him on the arm. 

He just snickers, grabbing your wrist before you can hit him again. He pulls you so you’re half-lying on top of him again, and you can feel his shoulders shaking as if he’s trying to keep from bursting out into another fit of laughter.

You let your head fall against his chest with a huff, still annoyed even as he wraps an arm around you, his hand rubbing against your back.

“You jerk,” you mutter.

He hums, sounding amused. “You love me.”

You go rigid, and he starts to laugh again, obviously enjoying the fact that he found an easy way to fluster you. 

“Shut up,” you grumble weakly, burying your face against him.

It isn't fair. He’s had time to fully realize it, years apparently. He’s had time to process everything. Meanwhile, you feel like you’ve been completely blindsided. 

He finally stops laughing and you’re both quiet for a few moments. You can hear his heart drumming loud in his chest.

“Wow,” he says suddenly. “We could have avoided a lot of stress if we realized earlier.”

You let out a snort of semi-hysterical laughter. “I know,” you agree, before pausing and wincing. “Oh god, I can't believe we've been… that we've been living together…”

“Yeeeahh… That's been torture by the way,” he says conversationally, as if he's discussing the weather, and your cheeks flare up. 

“...Torture?”

He squeezes your side. “Are you kidding? Have you seen yourself every day? Every time you wear my jacket, or… anything? Wearing those hoodies on movie nights—”

“I get it,” you cut him off, your face absolutely burning. “I get it, I’m—”

“Stupid?” he offers helpfully. “Oblivious? Cute?”

“...You never said anything,” you say weakly in an attempt to defend yourself.

“I wasn't going to make things awkward,” he protests. “Can you imagine if I’d actually said anything and you just… what? Said no? And then we have to keep living together like normal?”

You bite your lip, trying to suppress the guilt stirring in your stomach. You can’t even begin to imagine what it's been like from his perspective.

“...Sorry.” You shift so you can actually look at him, but he won’t meet your eyes, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as he pouts.

“You really didn't notice?” he asks, finally looking at you. “Even a little?”

“No.” You feel a frustrated sort of laugh bubbling up. “We’ve been so stupid. We could’ve… we’ve wasted so much time, years—”

“Hey, hey,” he interrupts, seeing your expression, sitting up and gently placing his hand on your cheek, and you stop abruptly. “It doesn’t matter,” he says reassuringly. “We have time, okay? Plenty of time.”

You’re still struggling with the whole situation, trying to process everything as you stare at him. “But… we’re graduating.”

He gives you a small, unsure smile. “Yeah. We are.”

"And… I don't even know where I'm going. We could be—”

“Hey.” He cuts you off, placing a finger gently on your lips, and you bite your tongue, looking down at him. “Stop worrying so much. We’ll figure it out, okay?”

You try to take a deep breath and he leans forward until his forehead is touching yours. 

Your mind is still racing, your entire universe is completely tilted, and you’re not entirely sure how to deal with any of it. But Felix is close and his hand is still on your cheek and…

And you want to focus on that instead, ignore everything else for now.

“Yeah?” you say weakly, your eyes fluttering shut.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice a little more firm, and he brings his other hand up to cup your face.

“For now,” he continues, his breath warm against your skin. “Let’s just…” He lets out an unsteady laugh, his hands still gently framing your face. “Can we just…”

Your entire body feels a little shaky. You lean forward a bit, closing the distance, and he sucks in a sharp breath.

“Yeah,” he breathes before slanting his mouth against yours.

It’s not very decorous. You’re both a little desperate, a little uncoordinated, trying to make up for years of lost time.

It’s messy and you can feel that he’s still a little nervous — as are you — but he's also determined. He pulls you closer, one of his hands sliding into your hair, tugging gently in a way that makes you gasp into his mouth.

Then he suddenly pulls back after a few moments, laughing when you whine pathetically in protest.

“Shh, hang on,” he says, slightly out of breath, and you open your eyes dizzily.

“...What?” you complain.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “I… I just remembered that I…”

You watch, utterly befuddled, as he pushes against your shoulders so he can sit up. He gently lifts you off of him, answering your whine of protest with a quick kiss before his hand drifts away from your face, reaching for his phone.

You try to grab at him. “What are you doing—”

He laughs and dodges out of your reach. “Just gimme a second,” he says, turning his phone on as he settles back on the bed.

You sit there, feeling dazed and frustrated as he taps at his phone, his attention focused on the screen. After a few moments, he finally seems to finish what he’s doing, putting his phone down with a satisfied hum.

When he meets your eyes, he just looks amused at your expression. “Sorry, sorry,” he says with a grin, moving closer to you again.

“What was so important,” you pout.

“I was meant to meet with my group mates for our project tonight,” he says. “So, I told them I'm feeling sick.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Felix.”

He has the audacity to just smile innocently, already shifting so he can push you down against the sheets.

“What?” he says casually, hovering over you, his hands coming to rest on your waist. “I wasn't gonna be able to focus anyways.”

“Oh.” You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks again. “Is… that really okay…?”

“Don't worry,” he says, leaning down and pressing a light kiss into your neck. “I practically carry them anyway, they can live without me for one night.”

You swallow, feeling his hands slide up your arms, his touch leaving a trail of sparks along your skin. “Okay,” you agree, completely distracted now, your thoughts hazy.

“Mhm.” He sucks on a sensitive spot on your collarbone and you let out a shaky exhale. “Can we focus on something else right now?”

You nod. He moves up to kiss you and you know, with him, you'll figure out whatever comes next.

For now, that's enough.

—

a/n: me, a mech eng major.. ofc i had to make felix a fellow engineer. nerds 4 life (do not study engineering i crave death every moment)

also yes title is the coldplay song bc im actually uncreative as hell and name everything after songs. how do ppl come up with titles (T＿T) but anyway since it's one of felix's fav songs i thought it was especially fitting 🤍

tysm for reading 🫶

[pandaofsecrets]

This convo got me thinking about how Ozai being a good parent and husband would actually be like (and how little that would actually change things), so here's the basics of the AU. It follows comics continuity because I think it's more impactful that way, and also because I really don't want to write two AUs for the price of one.

Okay, so first of all, how do we get here? Let's say that instead of Ozai becoming narcissistic as a coping mechanism (unlikely, but bear with me), he just kinda gives up trying to "prove his worth" and distances himself from his father and brother, distrusting them and trying to avoid their attention as much as he can.

Anyway, Azulon hears about the prophecy and wants Ozai married to Ursa, which. So much for not attracting attention. Azulon's logic here is that while he does want those strong firebenders, he doesn't want any of Roku's line to actually inherit the throne. So, marrying Ursa to his out-of-favor second son it is.

Needless to say, neither Ozai nor Ursa are exactly jazzed about the marriage. They're both essentially forced into it, and Ursa was already seeing someone, thank you very much. But they both figure that it's for the good of their country and that they can't really leave anyway, so they might as well try to make it work. Ozai works to make Ursa as comfortable as possible, and she cooperates with him as much as she can. A few months or so into the marriage, Ursa is pregnant with Zuko.

This is when Ursa notices that no one is replying to her letters. No one at all. Not Ikem, not her friends, and not even her parents. Like, she knows mail is slow, but it's been almost half a year at this point. Her parents at least should've written back by now. So, she does a little detective work, and puts together that Ozai is intercepting her letters.

Unsurprisingly, Ursa is pissed. She'd just begun to like Ozai, and he went and tore her heart into confetti. Incredibly betrayed (and also hormonal as all fuck), Ursa comes up with the very smart idea of writing a letter to Ikem in which she pretty much confesses to cheating on Ozai, reasoning that would hurt him pretty bad.

As Ursa expected, Ozai gets the letter and barges into the room, demanding to know what the hell she was thinking. "I knew it!" she goes. "I knew you've been intercepting my letters!" Ozai is like "Count yourself lucky it was me. What if it was my father? How would you have even begun to explain this to him?" He goes on to remind her that she was to give up contact with everyone outside of court, including her parents. He doesn't like his father's orders any more than she does, but he has to enforce them. He then burns the letter, telling Ursa that she can see whoever she wants, do whatever she wants, but she had better not let Zuko get caught up in any of it. Ozai makes a point to call Zuko his child, both because Ursa's letter did hurt him, and as a way to imply he cares about Zuko and Ursa doesn't.

A couple of hours later, both are feeling bad about the whole debacle. Ursa goes to see Ozai, who's in the middle of his usual "dealing with his angst by training until he straight-up collapses" routine, and they have a chat. Ozai apologizes for trying to imply she doesn't care about Zuko and for putting her in this position in the first place, and admits that he should've talked to her instead of going behind her back like that. Ursa swears she wasn't trying to get them in trouble, she was just so hurt by his actions that she wasn't thinking straight. Ozai promises her he'll find a way for her to contact and maybe even see her parents, so long as she promises to try and be less reckless. She agrees.

I'm skipping around a lot over things I haven't thought of in detail, so cut to a few years later. Zuko is around 7 and has just started his firebending lessons, Azula is around 5, and everything seems to be going pretty good. And then Azula starts firebending as well. Not only that, but she turns out to be a prodigy. Oops.

Ozai being Ozai, he immediately goes for damage control. He holds back Azula's progress under the pretext that it's going to be better for her in the long run, discourages her from attracting attention, and is generally very cagey whenever the subject of her bending is brought up. This is in sharp contrast to Azulon and to her teachers, who praise her for her talents and encourage her to develop her skills. So, naturally, Azula is really confused. If she's so great, why doesn't her father ever acknowledge it? This is made worse by the fact that Ozai can't really explain to Azula why he does things the way he does. So he just comes off as an unreasonable tyrant, which is. You know. Not at all the impression he wanted Azula to have of him. He knows what it's like to be the secondborn who is disliked by their parent, he never wanted to do that to his own child. It honestly feels like the universe is out to get him at this point.

So Azula becomes increasingly recalcitrant, and Ozai resolves to just give her space for the time being, spending more time with the one child who isn't fighting him at every turn. Seeing this as a rejection, Azula takes whatever pent-up rage she can't direct at Ozai and starts directing it at Zuko, meaning Ozai is put in a position where he has to protect one of his children from the other. Ursa tries her hardest to pick up the pieces, but that just ends with Azula writing her off as well. Azula also becomes aware of the fact that Ozai and Ursa are both pretty much powerless against Azulon, and that's where the fun begins.

It's a crappy situation all around, but it's about to get worse. Lu Ten dies and Iroh is about to return home from the Siege of Ba Sing Se, so Azulon tells Ozai that he has to give Azula to Iroh. Ozai is like, yep, there it is. There's the moment I've been dreading ever since I got married. Because due to the way this whole eugenics experiment worked, his children were never truly his. Azulon's vested interest in them meant Ozai never had any control over his own family, and Zuko and Azula were always going to be taken away from him sooner or later. But before Ozai can say anything, Azulon drops the bombshell on him. He has to kill Zuko, too. Ozai is like, fuck this. He doesn't care that Zuko was a failed experiment or whatever, that's his son. But he knows by now that his father cannot be reasoned with, so he asks Azulon to wait until Iroh comes home, buying himself time to figure out what to do. Surprisingly, Azulon agrees.

Ozai then goes to Ursa and tells her the tale of what just happened. Ursa goes, yeah, no, we can't afford to wait until Iroh comes back. Because even if they did, Zuko would still die. Ozai is like, well, there's gotta be something we can do. And that's when Ursa gets an idea. She briefly considers telling Ozai, but quickly thinks better of it. Patricide is a strong word. She knows Ozai wouldn't approve, so if she wants something done, she's gotta do it herself. Instead, she just says she knows a way, and leaves Ozai to mope.

Next morning, the palace is in chaos. Azulon just kicked the bucket, Iroh is away, and everyone is looking to Ozai for leadership. Ozai has a chat with Ursa and is like "You did this, didn't you?" Ursa is all "I don't know what you're talking about", and Ozai asks her if she really thinks he's that stupid. He then encourages her to get the heck out of Dodge, because someone is definitely going to trace this back to her and then they'll all be in big trouble, her especially. Ursa counters that she's not the same reckless woman she was 8 years ago, and that she made sure to cover all her bases this time, pinning the blame on supposed Earth Kingdom assassins. They sit in silence for a bit, and then Ozai confesses he can't believe Azulon is dead, and that he doesn't know whether to be relieved or to hate Ursa for murdering him. Ursa says that everything she's done, she's done to protect her family.

So Ozai basically becomes interim Fire Lord while waiting for Iroh to come back, and he does a pretty good job, having basically been acting Crown Prince ever since he came of age (with all of the responsibility and none of the credit, because Azulon was a dick like that). From here the AU can go any number of ways, from Iroh immediately taking over as Fire Lord, to him giving up his claim to the title, to Iroh trying to give up his claim and Ozai refusing.

I don't know if I'm ever going to actually write this AU, so I'm leaving this here, I guess? Lmk what you think.

[until-the-house-shakes]

Adoption Fight

Wolfstar raising Regulus / Werewolf! Regulus

-

Remus should have known this was going to happen. It’s only been a few months of him and Sirius taking care of Regulus, and each day ended in some terrible blow out- the brothers screaming at each other, doors slamming, and hatred easily being thrown about.

Why did he think this topic would be easy sailing?

For some brilliant reason, Sirius decided to legally get Regulus’ last name changed to mirror their own and get the adoption process started as well. The name changing process was easy enough seeing as Regulus’ parents legally gave up all parental rights of the werewolf, but they still needed a few signatures from the kid himself.

Getting his signature and trying to even discuss adoption was not going as easy as they hoped.

It started off as an easy conversation, asking if Regulus enjoyed living with them, and if he wanted to make his stay more permanent.

“Won’t maman have an issue with me staying here permanently? I thought this was just for the summer?” Regulus asked, looking through the papers his brother handed him. It looked innocent enough, but he wasn’t stupid. He read the words ‘adoption’ and ‘legal guardianship’. He knew what these two men are planning.

“We already talked to her. She thinks this is a better place for you to live.” Sirius lied. Regulus knew he was lying. He was awful at it.

“You’re lying. This isn’t what she wants. She’ll get mad and punish me! You know that.” The young werewolf was now on his feet, getting louder with each passing second.

One issue the married couple have yet to get a grasp on was the younger’s temper. He easily went from the sweetest kid anyone has met to meaner than both his parents combined. Remus should have known this would happen, as it was a very common symptom many werewolves dealt with, but adding in the ‘Black Madness’? He felt woefully unprepared.

“She won’t punish you, Regulus.” Sirius started, getting closer to his brother.

“How do you know? You know nothing! You haven’t been home in ye-“

“Because she fucking abandoned you! You left you! She made me and Remus take care of you because she couldn’t be bothered. She fucking hates you, told me herself.”

The world seemed to freeze once that comment left Sirius’ mouth. It was obvious to even an outside eye that the youngest Black was no longer ‘mama’s precious boy’ but to say she hated him? That she abandoned him and gave parental rights to his brother of all people?

And for what reason?

Because he was turned? Because one of their shitty friends made him a monster? That wasn’t even his fault, so why is he getting abandoned for it!

He could do better. He could be better. He could be the perfect son his maman was raising him to be, even with his stupid furry little problem.

“She doesn’t hate me.” Regulus mumbled, running straight to the kitchen. Looking for something to destroy. Something to get his anger out.

Glass plates.

Perfect.

“Hey, Reg. Let’s not do anything cr-“ Remus tried to calm the boy down, but to no avail. Before he could finish his statement, one of their wedding plates was thrown at the wall- effectively shattering it.

“I’m not fucking crazy!” Regulus screamed, throwing yet another plate. This time aiming for his lying brother.

“Regulus please stop! Being a Lupin isn’t a bad thing! I think it’s much better than being a Black.” Sirius flinched from his spot, much too scared to get closer to his brother- not wanting to make the situation any worse.

“I’m a Black. Not a fucking Lupin.” Regulus growled, throwing yet another plate at his brother, watching as it shattered.

Hearing and seeing all the tiny pieces of glass hit the floor, was the only comfort Regulus got during this conversation.

The only peace.

His mother hated him. His dad saw him as a monster. He was stuck with his brother who left when he was four, and another monster.

Regulus didn’t know what peace was. Until he saw the plate shatter against the wall.

-

The tantrum only lasted another two minutes until Remus was able to get his wand and move the plates far away from the angry ten year old.

“Alright, I think that’s enough. Go to your room, and calm down. Once you’re willing to talk calmly to us, we can resume this conversation.” Remus pointed at Regulus’ room, up the stairs. This was not the first time he had to intervene in an argument between the two brothers, and he was starting to get very sick of it.

He loved having Regulus live with them, but after watching this shit show and having his wedding plates- which were a family heirloom from his late ma- shattered all over his living room floor, Remus wasn’t too sure where he stood on the ‘adopting regulus’ matter.

“I fucking hate it here.” Regulus grumbled, stomping his way up the stairs and slamming his door shut.

The two men spared each other a fleeting look before starting to pick up the mess left by the youngest member of the house.

Sirius opened his mouth to say something, likely a pitiful excuse on why he lost his temper, but Remus was quick to raise his hand and shake his head, “not right now. I want to hear nothing from you.” It was clear the brunette was close to tears, and it broke Sirius’ heart.

Remus always had to deal with the brother’s bullshit, and now he was the only one negatively affected by one of their regular blowouts. Sirius looked at the pile of glass that surrounded their feet, and felt even worse once he realized that no amount of magic could fix the million pieces of glass. Nothing he did could bring the plates back to how they used to be.

Nothing could make Remus not mad at him.

-

Two hours later, Sirius was hunched over a pile of glass in his office. He tried every single spell he knew and nothing brought the plates back to their former glory. In a moment of weakness, Sirius thought about apperating to Wales to buy a set identical to the broken plates, but then remembered that it was a ‘one-of-a-kind’ set that Hope had received from her mother, who received it from her mother, who received it from her mother.. and that pattern seemed to never stop. Needless to say, the plates were irreplaceable and the last thing Remus received from his mother before she passed.

And now a majority of them were broken in a pile in front of Sirius.

What was he going to do?

Sirius’ self wallowing was cut short by a soft knock at the door.

“Come in.” He answered, hoping to see Remus walk in, but was instead greeted by a much smaller werewolf.

“Hey Reg, feeling any better?” Sirius asked, opening his arms for his little brother to take comfort. Yes, he was still very upset with the younger boy for reacting how he did, but he would never take away any comfort Regulus might seek out. He was not his parents, and would never act like them. No matter how mad he was. He was going to drill it in Regulus’ mind, that he was always safe and welcome in his arms.

“I’m sorry.” Regulus whispered, shoving his face in his older brother’s chest. Trying to hide from his mistakes.

“Do you really hate it here?” Sirius asked, petting the short black curls.

“I don’t. I promise. I… I was so upset. I was hurt that mom didn’t want me anymore and… it stung when you said she hated me. So I freaked out. I wanted to hurt you too. I’m sorry.”

Sirius sighed. Of course this traumatized kid was hurt and wanted to even the playing field out. It made sense. That’s exactly what Sirius used to do until he spent a few years with a mind healer and in a healthy relationship. When he was hurt he wanted others to hurt just like him or worse. Being hurt meant he was vulnerable, so if he made others vulnerable, he had nothing to worry about. It sucked that his poor baby brother had the same idea.

“I’m sorry too. I lost my temper and said things I should not have said. If it makes you feel any better, mother hates me too and disowned me long before she did you.” Sirius laughed, hoping it would make Regulus laugh as well.

It did not.

“I don’t hate you though. Neither does Remus. We love having you here, which is why we want to adopt you. We want you to legally be our kid, our family. That’s why we want you to share our last name. To really seal the deal.”

Regulus looked at his older brother with wide eyes. Was he being honest? Did he really want Regulus to be a part of his family? For the last two months, all Regulus did was cause fights, scream at Sirius, insult Remus, and make everyone’s life difficult. His own birth parents didn’t want him. So why did his brother want him?

What was so special about him?

“You promise you actually want me?” Regulus whispered. Too scared to speak any louder. Too scared to burst this bubble of safety his brother carefully created.

“I pinky promise Mon Ètoile. I want you here more than anything.”

The small promise filled Regulus with such a warm feeling. Much warmer than any feelings his maman could make him feel. It was almost too much.

Actually. It was too much.

Far too much emotion.

Like he couldn’t control it at all. He couldn’t hold it in. All his emotions had to escape. It had to leave his heart and mind and become physical.

It was terrifying, and hurt just a little bit.

But then in a flash. It was over. His emotions felt normal yet again.

Odd.

“What just happened?” Regulus asked, looking around the room as if one of the inanimate objects would answer him.

“I think you had some accidental magic happen, Reg. Nothing to worry about! You were feeling some big emotions and they had to come out. No big… no fucking way.” Sirius cut himself off, looking at some plates on the desk next to him.

Wait. Those were the plates Regulus broke. Or at least, he thought he broke them.

“Did I just fix the plates?” Regulus asked, awestruck at what he just did.

“I think you did mon ètoile. Why don’t you go grab Remus and bring him here so he can see? I’m sure he’ll be very happy.” Sirius smiled, ushering his brother out of the room to grab his other guardian.

In the few minutes he had by himself, Sirius tried to wrap his head around what just happened. He spent two hours trying to fix these plates and had no luck, but his brother managed to fix them with a rush of accidental magic?

It made no sense.

Oh well. It didn’t really matter as long as they stayed fixed.

-

Later that night, the three boys were all cuddled together on the couch, watching a muggle movie on a ‘telly’ as Remus called it. Regulus really liked all the muggle inventions Remus showed him. They were always so interesting!

“… Can I still change my name?” Regulus asked once there was a pause in the movie. The two adults haven’t said anything else about the adoption or his last name changing since he apologized for his outburst, and he was worried that they were going to take back their offer.

He didn’t want them to take away their offer. He wanted to be a Lupin. He wanted to be wanted by someone.

“Of course you can, cub. We can continue the process tomorrow, but I can’t promise it will happen anytime soon. Stuff like this tends to take a while.” Remus answered, bringing Regulus closer to his side. It warmed the older werewolf’s heart to know the kid genuinely wanted to be a part of their family, even if they fought.

“I would love nothing more than to share my last name with you again, mon ètoile.” Sirius ruffled his brother's hair, laughing as the younger complained about it.

Sirius looked over at his husband cuddling with his brother, and felt his heart swell. Sure, these past two months haven’t been an easy adjustment with Regulus living with them, but they’re making it work, and soon they’ll legally be a family of their own.

A happy little family

Hopefully.

[ratatatastic]

gustav "adonis" forsling has gone from statue/sculpture to mythical greek god to physical specimen to carved out of stone to "might be a descendant of one of the big three: zeus hades or poseidon" i feel so faint right now

okie admitting the team does say all of these things makes me feel FAINT. OKIE SAYING THESE THINGS.

unfortunately the cats are very predictable and thusly restart the counter...

NHL Network interview | 6.14.24 (x)(x)

gustav forsling, deadpannedly serious, saying "no" (with a smile)

[himblebo]

I haven’t looked in on the unfinished side of our basement in a while and… my dad’s hoarding has actually gotten significantly worse. And we just heard from my grandfather last night that he’s pretty sure my grandmother is going to pass soon. And when that happens, my father’s hoarding is absolutely not going to get better. So. That’s a lot. I brought it up to my mom and she told ME to research psychiatrists that specialize in hoarding. It’s a very eldest daughter kind of day.

[mywritersmind]

THEY DONT KNOW IT - LN4

summary : She’s a popstar who’s being oggled by the same grid who doesn’t believe Lando has a chance with her. In a simple quiet conversation, Lando fixes that.

listen up : lando norris x popstar!reader. mentions of sex. reader wrote bed chem!!

word count : 629

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“You hear who’s in the paddock today?” Oscar eyes Lando as he joins the group of drivers. They all look suspiciously giddy.

“No…?” Lando eyes them, It’s Carlos who’s grinning and speaks up first.

“Y/n L/n.” the spaniard whispers.

Lando raises a brow as Alex nods to his girlfriend talking to you, “She’s a super famous singer right? Lily loves her.”

“Very pop.” Charles adds in.

“Very hot.” Franco says as they all turn to him, “What? You were all thinking it.” a surge of jealousy goes through Lando. Obviously he knows people think you’re hot, he’s the fan club president. But Franco saying it makes him want to go over there and kiss you in front of the young driver.

Lando watches you move your hair behind your ear, assessing the little black dress you’ve got on. “Fuck.” is the only think Yuki can say.

“Hasn't she been to a couple races?” George adds, “For any reason or…” Lando wants to yell at them that you’re there for him.

“She’s a fan.” Charles says, “Hangs with Alex in the garage sometimes.”

You wonder if they know how obviously the group is looking at you. You turn and give them a little smile. Most of the guys look away except Lando, who waves.

“What the fuck?” Carlos makes a face.

“Dude-” Max laughs as Lando looks around at the group.

“What?”

“Give up now.” Alex shrugs.

“Excuse you?” Lando crosses his arms over his racing suit, “You think I don’t have a chance?” They all start laughing, “Fuck you, lot!”

Alex grins, “Don’t let netflix hear.”

Carlos slaps his hand onto his friends shoulder, “Mate… she’s just so- and you’re so… it’s not made to be.”

Lando just scoffs, “Don’t pout!” Max laughs, “I’m pretty sure she’s the only girl out of your reach.”

“You don’t know about Nadia?” Alex grins.

Max gives him a confused look but turns back to Lando, except when he does, he realizes he’s already gone and walking towards you.

You smile when you see Lando, he slips his arm around your waist and pulls you in for a quick hug, “Hi.” His eyes linger on you before smiling kindly at Lily.

“I’ll be back, Y/n. Lando keep your distance.” She points to the driver before walking away.

“The guys don’t think I have a chance with you.” He whispers into your ear, his hand still on your waist.

You laugh a bit, glancing at the men who are all staring at you two. “So naive.” he laughs a bit, tilting his head down.

A curl goes into his face and you resist the urge to push it back. “I’m happy you’re here.” this makes your cheeks go a bit pink. Funny, you’ve been sleeping together for months and he can say the tinest thing to get you to blush.

“I’m happy I'm here too. Win for me?”

“What do I get if I do?” His hand backs off your waist a bit, clearly aware of the eyes on you.

You look up at him, his eyes greener than ever, “Whatever you want?”

His brows go up, “Whatever?”

The corner of your mouth quirks, “Within reason.”

“Not much reason between the two of us.” You roll your eyes and back away from him so you’re no longer touching.

“Go run back to your friends and giggle about how a pretty girl kissed you.”

“But you didn’t-” He gets cut off by your lips on his cheek. He’s grinning ear to ear as you walk away, waving a bit.

When Lando walks back to the guys they’re gobsmacked, “Tell me you didn't just meet her today.” Charles practically pleads.

He laughs at their faces, “Have you ever heard the song, bed chem?”

[hairmetal666]

"But why is he here all the time," he whines to Robin. She doesn't like him much, but Scoops is empty, and what else is he supposed to do? Not speak to her at all?

"Why do you care what Eddie Munson is doing at the mall."

"I don't care." He scoffs, rolls his eyes. "He's just always here. Doesn't he have anything better to do?"

"Do you?"

"He doesn't work here."

"Haven't seen you doing a lot of work here, Steve."

"You spent forty minutes yesterday drawing on your sneakers."

She shakes her head, but doesn't say anything because he's right and she knows it.

He goes back to staring at Munson, sitting on the edge of the fountain. He's relaxed back, legs spread, looking like he owns the place. The way he's leaning, his t-shirt rides up, showing a tantalizing glimpse of pale skin and the lightest dusting of hair. He doesn't remember his mouth being so dry before.

"You're such an idiot." Robin smacks herself down beside him. "Eddie's a good guy. Is this just because he's the freak and you're King Steve?"

"No!" He says it too loud, a few people in the foodcourt turn to stare. "I'm not that guy anymore. That's all just--" he flaps his hand, can't find the words.

She makes a disbelieving noise, eyes narrow. "I'll never forgive you if you hurt him."

Robin stomps off to the backroom before he can stop her, tell her he doesn't want to hurt Munson.

One of Eddie's friends says something that has Eddie stretching back to hear, pulling his shirt higher, flashing the dark line of a tattoo, and that's too much, that has him slamming his eyes closed, rubbing at his brow but all he can think is--

cold cinder block at his back, hot mouths and fumbling hands and long, deft fingers; desperate, bitten off moans; hands fisted into long curls; the hot, bittersweet taste of him

It was only a handful of times, quick encounters in the locker room, once under the bleachers in the gym. And Steve, he'd never--it didn't mean anything, but it meant everything, and Eddie's been all he can think of for months.

A group of middle school girls comes in, then, and he forgets about Munson as he scoops ice cream and blends milkshakes. The next time he looks to the fountain, Eddie is gone

---

Steve cleans up the remnants of a dropped milkshake at the store entrance, and his shorts are a little too tight, okay, he can feel the way they pull around his hips when he bends too much, but he has to clean the tile before the rush starts and customers complain. There's one spot, though, it's already dried, has to really put his back into it.

The food court is crowded by the time he finishes, bustling with customers. He turns to grab the bucket, and stops dead in his tracks. Munson sits on one of the built-in planters directly behind him. He was staring at Steve's polyester clad ass, but now his eyes travel up Steve's body, getting darker with desire as they go.

He's trapped in place by the force of Eddie's gaze, by the want there. They stare at each other in silence, Steve's blood thumping a vigorous rhythm.

The moment breaks when Robin's voice, calling his name, catches his attention. He turns back to his work without a word, but inside he's reeling.

---

Steve's opening alone, comes out from the back, and there Eddie is, lounging on the fountain rim with a magazine in hand. It's been a couple of days since he's been around, not since the incident. He watches as Munson languidly flips through the pages, seeming not to have a care in the world, and he--

Well, he's never really had to wait around for something he wants.

He stalks over to the fountain, stops when the tips of his sneakers touch the toes of Eddie's boots. And, yeah, he's in his dorky sailor outfit, but Munson didn't seem to mind the other day. Steve thinks maybe he likes it.

"Munson," he says. His hands are on his hips.

Eddie looks up, slow, taking Steve in. He leans back further, crosses his legs at the ankle. "Harrington."

They stare at each other. Steve starts biting his lip. Not as a move--he's nervous, suddenly, that all of this is a waste and Eddie isn't interested--but Munson's gaze hooks on his mouth, lingers, like a warm caress.

Steve's never initiated things between them before, isn't sure if it's working. He takes the chance, though, starts walking away.

He crosses through the seating area, past the counter, into the back, doesn't know for sure if Eddie is following until the door doesn't close right away behind him.

There's a single beat of a second where they watch each other and neither moves, before Eddie is on him, grabbing his shoulders and pushing him into the wall.

"What the fuck is this, Harrington, huh?" They're close enough for their noses to touch. "You ignore me for months and now--"

"You're here all the fucking time," he snaps back. "Sitting in the same spot like you own the place."

"So, I'm not allowed to be at the mall now?" Eddie sneers. "God forbid I'm in sight of the king."

Steve tries to pull away. "That's not what this is, and you know it."

"Then what is it, Stevie? Spell it out for me real slow to make sure I understand." He leans in, a little, and Steve stops breathing.

Eddie's lips brush his, a gentle press that isn't quite a kiss, not yet. His knees go weak, the wall at his back the only thing holding him up, but the kiss doesn't deepen. Instead, Eddie steps back, laughs. "You think I'm this easy, sweetheart? That you can lure me with your little sailor costume and I'll come without a fight?"

"Am I wrong?"

Eddie scoffs, turns his head, and Steve thinks he overplayed it, that his misread everything.

"Fuck you, Harrington." Eddie grabs him, then, hands fisting into his sailor shirt. "Fuck you and this stupid, sexy outfit. Fuck you for knowing this would work on me."

His mouth presses against Steve's throat, and he moans, clinging to Eddie's jacket.

"Listen to you, sweetheart," Eddie murmurs. "Making all those desperate, pathetic sounds for me. Almost like you missed me or something."

"I did." He groans as Eddie's mouth moves along his jaw. "Missed you so much, haven't been able to stop thinking about you."

Eddie sinks his teeth into Steve's cheek, and he has to stifle his shout. He's harder than he can remember ever being before, thinks he could come just from the feel of Eddie's teeth in his skin.

"That's not what you told Billy," Eddie says. "When he almost caught us."

"I didn't want him to hurt you," he gasps. "I--I didn't want him to have a reason."

Eddie pulls away, Steve grasping after him. "I can handle Hargrove."

"He hit me in the head with a plate." Steve points to the small scar on his forehead. "That's how I got that concussion last year."

"Oh," Eddie blinks. He cards his fingers through Steve's hair, pulling it out of the way to see the scar better. "Sweetheart. I thought--" he swallows, throat working. "I--I keep coming here to see you. I wanted--"

His hand falls to Steve's neck, drawing him in. For a second, Steve thinks it's another tease, but Eddie does kiss him this time. It's deep, desperate, so thorough he thinks Eddie's memorizing the taste of him. He doesn't want it to ever stop, not for a second.

Outside, someone starts hammering on the counter bell, shouting for service.

They slip apart, Eddie still gently cradling the back of Steve's neck. "Come over tonight?" Eddie's eyes are so dark, wanting, he could drown in them.

"Yes." Because there is no other answer.

He lets Eddie out the back door just as Robin yells from the front, "Harrington! We have a customer! I haven't clocked in yet!"

"Be right there," he yells back, but not fast enough that she doesn't catch a glimpse of Eddie slipping out.

She whirls to him, brow in an angry furrow. "Steve! I told you not to hurt him!"

He can't stop his smile. "Buckley, I promise you, Munson can take care of himself."

[libingan]

—no questions asked.

you’ve always been his, even before the words were ever said—no labels needed when everything else speaks for itself.

i remember candace and jeremy's relationship in phineas and ferb. i liked how jeremy assumed they were already dating and thought to myself "simon riley" so here it is.

it’s always been this way with simon.

the little things you’ve shared, those moments that nobody else gets to see, have slowly built up over time. long drives where the silence is comfortable, quiet moments when you’re wrapped up in a blanket together, his arm draped around your shoulders. you’ve shared soft kisses in the early morning light, whispered words when you think no one’s listening, and occasional touches that linger just a second too long to be deemed innocent. his gruff voice calling you his—just “his,” as if you’re already a part of something bigger, something unspoken.

but the question always lingers in the back of your mind: what are we?

because in your head, you’re not his girlfriend. you never really were. sure, you’ve done couple things—spent hours together, laughed over inside jokes, shared moments that feel like they belong to only the two of you. but whenever you think about it, you can’t quite place a label on what you are. you never had that conversation, the one where he asks you out, where you define what this thing between you is.

and deep down, you’ve always known. maybe it’s not meant to last. maybe simon’s just passing through your life like a storm, wild and unpredictable, leaving you wondering if you’ll ever feel whole again once the dust settles. you’ve never asked for a commitment. it was enough for you to just be close, to keep things easy and fluid, without any promises that might eventually break.

but then, everything changes the moment you decide to confront him.

it’s a quiet night, the kind where the world outside seems to stop, and you’re sitting in the living room, the only sound being the soft hum of the kitchen light. simon’s sprawled across the couch, eyes half-lidded as he scrolls through his phone. you’re sitting on the floor in front of him, leaning your back against the coffee table, and you can’t stop your thoughts from swirling.

the truth has been eating at you for weeks now, months maybe. you have to ask. you need to know if this is really what you want, and more importantly, if it’s what simon wants. so, you let the question slip, unsure of how it’ll come out, but it tumbles from your lips all the same.

“simon,” you begin, your voice quiet but firm, “what are we?”

he doesn’t immediately look up from his phone. it’s as if the question barely registers, but you know he’s heard it. you can feel his attention slowly turning your way, as if his brain needs a second to process the weight of your words.

he puts the phone down, tilting his head slightly to get a better look at you, his gaze soft but intense. he doesn’t say anything at first. instead, his lips curl into a small, knowing smirk.

“what do you mean?” his voice is low, almost like he’s testing the waters.

you swallow, feeling a tightness in your chest, and you try to make your words come out right. “i mean… we do all this stuff, simon. you call me yours, and i… i don’t even know where i stand. we’ve never really talked about what this is. are we… are we dating, or what?”

he blinks at you for a moment, clearly taken aback by your words. it’s almost funny, how much you’ve thought about it, how much you’ve analyzed your every interaction, while simon has likely never questioned it. it’s simple to him. and that’s when it hits you—he’s never even considered that this could be anything other than what it is.

he sighs, a deep, exasperated sound, and leans back into the couch, his arms crossed over his chest. his eyes lock onto yours, unwavering. “what are you on about, woman? you’re my girlfriend.”

the words hang in the air, and for a moment, you can’t quite process them. you blink, unsure if you’ve heard him right. it almost sounds like he’s stating a fact, like it’s something as simple as breathing. his voice is firm, unwavering, as if this was always meant to be the case.

you feel your breath catch, the weight of his words sinking in, and then—just like that—all your worries melt away. you don’t even know why you were so worried in the first place. the uncertainty, the anxiety, it all seems so silly now. you’re not sure whether to laugh or roll your eyes at the absurdity of it all. simon is, as always, so simon about it. there’s no drama, no overthinking, no need for big conversations or declarations.

you’re his. you’re his girlfriend. and there’s no debate.

the relief hits first, followed closely by a mix of amusement and a small flash of annoyance. you try to hold back the grin tugging at your lips. “wait... just like that? no question, no ‘will you be my girlfriend?’ just… you’re my girlfriend?”

he meets your gaze, nonchalant, and shrugs. “that’s right. you’re mine. no need for any of that nonsense. i’ve already decided.”

you stare at him, feeling a warmth spread through you that has nothing to do with the temperature of the room. it’s the way he speaks, like he’s already certain, already claimed you. and it feels… good. reassuring, even. but also, just a little bit frustrating. because, honestly, how do you even argue with that?

“god, you’re impossible,” you mutter, a grin breaking through as you roll your eyes. “seriously. you’re so damn sure about everything.”

he just smirks back, the corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly. “you should be glad i am, sweetheart. now, come here.”

he pats his lap, and before you can protest, you’re already moving toward him, the tension from moments before completely gone. his arms pull you close, and you settle against him, feeling his familiar warmth. you don’t even need the words anymore. somehow, just being with him like this is enough.

and that, you realize, is exactly what simon’s always known.

[julymusings]

simplicity

out there they're afraid even of the killer's shadow, and here i reside in his heartbeat like a home

or; the big bad red hood has a soft spot only for you [3.4k]

jason todd x fem!reader; tiny bit of angst but mostly fluff; aggressive unwanted advances, implied roofie attempt, violence & blood, slut-shaming; Jason “my girl can wear whatever she wants I can fight” Todd; in da clerb, we all fam ⎯ based on this !

A humid, crowded, upscale club isn’t the most ideal way to spend your Friday night, and Jason knows this. Frankly, it’s not his either, but as the owner of the humid, crowded, upscale club, he had to make some appearances at his own business.

“It’s a night out,” he had said. “Let’s make the most of it.”

If you’re being honest, it’s also not the worst way to spend your Friday night. Not when Jason dressed up so deliciously, in a fitted t-shirt, jeans, and his leather jacket. Not when he took you to a booth in the corner of the club and had them bring over your favorite drinks and snacks with the order to keep them coming. Not when you got to wear that cute little black dress that’s been hanging in your closet for months with your favorite strappy heels, the ones with ribbons that wrapped around your ankle and tied into a bow in the back. Not when Jason sat you on his lap and settled a large hand on your thigh, where it stayed the whole night.

All in all, you would say you’re making the most of it. 

You’re sipping on your drink, chatting about something or the other with your boyfriend. He’s half listening, half drawing circles on your thigh and pressing kisses to your shoulder when one of the employees finds you. She’s freaking out because one of the performers hasn’t shown up, and there’s no one else to go in her place.

Jason huffs. He lifts you off his lap and sets you down on the seat. “I’m sorry, baby, I just gotta take care of this. I’ll be right back.”

“It’s okay. I’ll be here.” You smile over the rim of your glass.

He looks around for a moment, then gestures to someone across the room. One of the bouncers make their way to you.

“Just keep an eye out,” he tells him. “I don’t trust these entitled country club fuckers.”

He gives a curt nod. Jason leans in close, smirking, and says, “Especially not when you look like that,” and gives you a quick kiss before disappearing into the crowd with the employee.

A couple minutes later, a crash snaps your attention towards the bar. A young, college-aged-looking man is berating a waitress while a mess of shot glasses litter the floor around them. The waitress looks about to cry.

“Jesus Christ,” the bouncer says to himself. Then to you, “Gimme a second.”

You move to the edge of the booth to watch as he goes over and tries to pacify the man, but that only seems to make him angrier. He shoves the bouncer, yelling about “shitty customer service.” 

You don’t get to see what happens next, though, because your field of vision is obscured by an enormous, very shiny, and very douchey silver belt buckle. You look up for its owner, and a greasy-looking, white-haired man looks down at you. 

“Hey there, sweetheart.” A fake gold tooth catches the flashing lights and it glints in your eye. Uninvited, he slides into the booth across from you. He places a drink on the table, sliding it towards you. “You look thirsty. Got this for you.”

“No, thanks. I’ve got one.” You hold your own glass up.

He rolls his eyes. “Pretty thing like you should be takin’ advantage of all the free drinks you could be gettin’.” His smile sends a chill down your spine.

“Again, I’m fine,” you say, a little harsher. “My boyfriend has brought me plenty of drinks already.”

He laughs. It’s a high-pitched, scratchy, wheezing sound. Like a kazoo. “I don’t see this boyfriend of yours anywhere. He should know better than to leave you alone. I’d treat you much better than him.” His eyes travel down your neck and stay there. You stand from the booth and take a big step back. It’s not entirely personal; no matter how much of a threat he may be, Jason is a worse one. And if he’s still in this neighborhood, never mind this building, you fear for this man’s safety much more than your own. But the man follows, bringing the cup with him. “Come on, honey, it’s a compliment. Show a little thanks. I don’t bite.”

You don’t have to be the world’s finest detective to know that is most definitely a lie. Or to know to avoid that cup at all costs.

You could just rebuff him, walk away. But you’re willing to bet he’d just move on to the next woman. One who’s probably a little less sober, and a little less aware of her surroundings. You feign a stumble and knock the drink out of his grip. It tips toward him, drenching him with its contents. He chokes out a shocked gasp.

“Oops,” you deadpan, not at all trying to hide your indifference.

“You bitch,” he snarls. He lunges forward, snatching your wrist. You try to pull it back, but his grip is iron and bruising. “I was doing you a favor. Do you see anyone else here looking at you?”

You’re suddenly grateful you didn’t put up much of a fight after Jason came home from patrolling one night insisting he show you some self-defense moves. Far be it from you to cause a scene, but this guy isn’t giving you much choice. You employ the cardinal rule of women’s self-defense: go for the crotch. You shift your weight to your non-dominant side and launch your dominant knee right into his groin. The sharp metal edge of his belt buckle slices the skin just above your knee, but it shocks him enough to release your wrist and double over. The same leg used in your attack plants itself on the ground, and you use the momentum to pistol your opposite fist forward. It collides with his nose in a bone-cracking cross. Your stacks of studded rings didn’t do him any favors, either. He cries out in pain. His hands fly up to cover his nose, and the cup falls from his grasp and shatters on the floor, garnering the attention of some surrounding patrons. Blood seeps between his fingers.

“You’re gonna fucking pay for that.” His tone drips with poison. He reaches into his coat pocket and brandishes a switchblade (because of course. You’re not surprised, though. It is Gotham). You look around in a panic, hoping to find Jason towering somewhere over the crowd. He’s not there. A few guys who work for him, though, have since taken notice of the commotion and are making their way towards you. You know they won’t make it in time. You weren’t scared a moment ago, but you definitely are now. Jason only briefly covered disarming techniques, and you didn’t have his practice to stay calm in situations like these. He steps closer, shoes crunching over the glass shards, and you step back. You’re backed into a corner, literally. Your back is pressed against the table. His eyes are glassy and void of color.

There is a resounding pop when the man’s knife-wielding hand is yanked to the side. Too fast for your brain to register, he thuds against the table next to you and the knife clatters to the ground. You look over and see Jason, one hand pressing his face into the table and the other twisting the man’s arm behind his back. 

When his men finally reach you, Jason is seething. They look almost as afraid as the man, whose whimpers are muffled by the pressure with which he’s flattened against the table.

“Who the fuck let this happen,” Jason glowers. Uncomfortable glances are shared between the men, all sharing the same sentiment; we fucked up big time.

Jason’s livid gaze flits back and forth among them. His veins flex against his forearms, rippling with effort. It looks like he’s putting all his strength into incapacitating the man, but you know better. He’s putting all his strength into restraint. The look on his face is cold and steely, with hardened, venom-green eyes and a clenched jaw. This isn’t Jason, the sweet boyfriend, or Jason the easy-going yet respected club proprietor. This is Jason the crime lord. Jason the anti-hero. This is the Red Hood. Who makes his own rules and kills anyone who breaks them. It’s a bit off-putting for you to see him like this; he’s never like this with you. He’s always just…Jason. Your Jason.

One of his men speaks up. “We’re sorry, Boss, we were keepin’ an eye like you asked, but there was trouble up at the bar.”

Jason scowls. “Trouble that required all of you?”

At their silence, he rolls his eyes. “Idiots,” he says under his breath. He jerks the man up to stand, the hand that was pressing him to the table now gripping the back of his shirt collar. “Someone take care of this.” He shoves the man in their direction. Hard. One of them catches him. “And for fuck’s sake, check him for anything else.” 

While they’re busy patting him down, Jason turns back to you. You get whiplash from how quick his demeanor changes. Though still tense, the rigidity of his expression is long gone, replaced with tender concern.

“Are you okay?” His wide eyes scan you up and down, searching for any signs of injury. You manage a nod, still a bit stunned by his apparent shape-shifting abilities. “I’m so sorry, honey, this is my fault. It’s my fault for leaving you alone.” He pulls you close for a hug and kisses the top of your head, murmuring further apologies into your hair.

You pull back and cup his face in your hands. “It’s okay, Jay, I’m fine. I promise.” You lean in to kiss him and feel his shoulders relax.

“Jesus, man, sorry! Wouldn’t’a come on so strong if I knew she was your whore. How much did ‘ya pay for her, anyway?” His voice rings from behind. Jason tenses up again. When he pulls back from you, he’s gone. He’s like Jekyll-turned-Hyde when the combatant that lay dormant inside him reassumes his body.

He turns around, but his large frame shields you from seeing the scene unfold. You place a hand on his arm, a silent message of support, and you can feel him vibrating with anger. His hand comes to rest over yours and gives a reassuring squeeze.

“You know what?” You can’t be sure who he’s speaking to, but you can hear the eerie smile in his tone. “I’ll take care of this.” He faces you. “Can you give me a minute? Is that okay?” His voice is calm.

You know he would stay if you asked him to. And you never would, but you know he would go outside and kill that guy if you asked him to. And maybe you’re feeling a tad vindictive after the whole ordeal, so you just say, “Okay.”

He kisses your forehead, squeezing your hand once more. “I’ll come find you,” he says, stepping away, and you nod.

“Ross,” he commands. “Take her to the office. Get her whatever she wants.” Jason then speaks to all of his men. His tone drips with disdain. “Tomorrow we’ll talk about who’s getting fired for this.” You catch some of his men flinch.

He grabs the man by the collar once again and stalks towards the exit, dragging him along.

You’ve met Ross once or twice, though never exchanged more than a few words. He smiles at you. It’s amiable, if not slightly nervous. You know where the office is, but you’re still grateful for the guide. The mesh of moving bodies under dim lights makes all four corners of the room look the same. With the adrenaline wearing off, your hands ache and you become acutely aware of the stinging shock that shoots up your knee when you walk on it but, persevering, you follow him to the back. He holds the door that reads ‘RESTRICTED - DO NOT ENTER’ open for you, and you smile in thanks.

Various employees, servers and performers alike, mill about in the back hallways. You know some of them, having met in passing during other visits to the club, and offer polite greetings as you walk by. When you arrive at Jason’s office, Ross unlocks the door for you and you step inside.

It’s a nice office, noticeably homier than it was when you and Jason met. The first time he brought you back here it was just a desk, a chair, and a filing cabinet. You perched yourself on his desk while he sat in his chair and you teased him for not having a place for guests to sit, saying something about ‘men and their awful interior designing skills.’

“It’s not ‘bad skills,’ it’s cost-effective. ‘M runnin’ a business here, baby. If you need a place to sit that badly, you can sit right here.” He joked, patting his lap. And he said it with such conviction you believed him, but the next time you visited there was a brand new, plushy suede couch pushed against the wall.

You find a seat on said couch and try to get comfortable despite your protesting joints. From here you can spot a framed photo on Jason’s desk; the two of you smiling while bathing a shelter dog at the Wayne Animal Sanctuary. But while you smile at the camera, his gaze is trained on you.

 Ross stands in the doorway, stoic as a bodyguard should be. “Do you need anything?” He asks you.

“No, I’m okay. Thank you, though.”

“‘Course. I’ll be outside. Just yell if you need anything.” He moves to exit, but pauses. “Look,” he says, “We’re all really sorry about what happened. It was our fault. You have every right to hate us.” He chuckles self-deprecatingly. “God knows the boss does.”

You purse your lips, unsure how to respond. Technically Jason did instruct them not to leave you alone. But really, the only person at fault is that horrible man, and he was currently getting what he deserved.

“It’s okay, Ross,” you say, and you mean it. “I don’t blame you. And Jason’s not gonna fire any of you, okay? I won’t let him.”

He exhales. “Okay, you—yeah. Okay. Thanks.” He loiters awkwardly in the doorway for a moment. “Listen, Todd’s always been a great boss. But it’s no joke when it comes to you. Don’t know exactly what happened, but after meeting you, he’s just…different. Not sure if I believe it, but after the first time you were here, one of the bartenders swears they heard him whistling. Anyway, just mean to say…we’re glad he has you.”

His sincerity warms your heart. You thank him, and he assumes his post outside, closing the door. 

At last in decent lighting, you take the time to examine yourself. Your knee, knuckles, and wrist are splotchy with bruises. A small scrape rests just above your knee from you were scratched. There’s a splattering of blood on your knuckles and on the rings you’re wearing. You grimace, the reality of what just happened settling in. Someone pulled a knife on you. If Jason hadn’t been there…the thought leaves you cold.

There are voices on the other side of the door, then receding footsteps. After a few seconds, a knock.

“Baby? Can I come in?”

“Yes,” you call out. Jason enters, locking the door behind him. There are some smatterings of blood on his hands and face, and he’s holding a first aid kit. Your immediate instinct is that he’s the one who needs first aid.

“Are you okay?” You ask as he kneels on the floor in front of you. “Did he hurt you?”

Jason tilts his head like a confused puppy, eyebrow raised. Just like that, The Red Hood is gone. He’s Jason again. He speaks softly, with a hint of his usual boyish charm. “Should I be insulted by you asking me that?” He picks up your un-injured leg and places the foot on his thigh, beginning to unravel the ribbon wrapped around your ankle. He removes the shoe and places it to the side, then repeats with your other foot. But when he moves it, your knee twitches and you wince. He frowns but doesn’t say anything. He sees the way your eyes travel between all the spots of blood. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, none of it’s mine.”

You sigh in relief. “You didn’t…kill him, did you?”

He chuckles, lightly massaging your foot. “Nah…did you want me to? ‘Cause I can still—”

“No.”

He smirks at you, before leaning down to press a kiss to your bruised knee. It’s so gentle, so loving, it completely contradicts the bloodstains that adorn him. As his hands move up to your calf, your hand moves to his hair, fingers threading through the white streaks and pushing them back so you can get a better view of his eyes. They’re a silky teal, bordering on sea green. They remind you of lake trips in the summer, and ice skating during the holidays.

“How bad is he? Like, on a scale of ‘he can walk it off’ to ‘he needs to go to the hospital.’”

Jason pauses his movements, looking thoughtful for a moment.

“He…he’s walking himself to the hospital.”

There’s not much you can say to that. After all, you gave him to okay to go fuck that guy up.

From the first aid kit, he retrieves a box of Band-Aids. They’re the children’s ones, decorated with cartoons and various characters. A specific one catches your eye, and you pick it out of the carton.

“Robin? Really?”

Jason breathes out a small laugh. “One of my guys’ daughter loves him.” He unwraps the bandage and sticks it over the scratch. You admire the small red plaster. Jason traces a finger over the emblem in the center, a black and yellow ‘R’.

He moves from your leg to your hand, gingerly laying it in his palm. One by one he slides each of your rings off. They’re not particularly special, but you still like them and you try to protest when he tosses them in the trash. He’s quick to assuage you with promises to buy you new ones with, hopefully, less blood.

"Did you see how good I got him?" You suddenly feel shy asking such a question. Like a child seeking validation.

"I did see," Jason says. And there's not a hint of condescension in his tone. "I'm proud of you. You remembered what I taught you."

You beam under his pride.

He uses a sanitizing wipe to remove the droplets of blood from your knuckles, kissing each one along the way. He reaches your wrist last. There’s a purple hand-shaped mark that wraps around it, and he stares at it. You can see his thoughts race at sixty miles an hour, and you know he’s beating himself up about it.

“Hey.” The hand in his hair moves to stroke his cheek. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault. I promise. I love you.”

He leans forward to press his forehead to your wrist. “I’m sorry,” he breathes. “I’m sorry.” He places gentle kisses on the purple skin. “I’m sorry. I love you.” He moves to the scratch above your knee, pressing more kisses, repeating the words like a prayer. Your hand is still enclosed in his hands, and his cool fingers soothe the throbbing swell. You pull his head up, holding his chin in your fingertips. His eyes close as he soaks in your warm touch.

You reach for another wipe and begin wiping the blood from his face. Some of it has dried, so you press the wipe a little harder, and blood rushes to his cheeks to give him an adorable flush. You repeat the process on his hands. Blood erased and wipes discarded, you pull him up to the couch to lie down with you. He stretches out, so large that his feet hang over the armrest. You snuggle up to his side and your head rests on his shoulder. He wraps his arms around you and kisses the top of your head. It’s surreal, how utterly soft he is, and just for you. How no one else gets to see him like this. He goes out at night as a fighter, a crusader, a deadly threat. And then he comes home to sleep in your arms. In your bed.

You place your hand against his chest, right over his heart to feel it thrum beneath your palm. It beats simple and steady, and just for you.

am i the only one who likes the whole jason owning the iceberg lounge storyline (aside from the whole penguin prisoner thing but i only write according to canon that i like and leave out the things i don't! whoops🤷‍♀️);

the feminine urge to write more fics that take place within the universe of this one...

divider is from here

[trivia-yandere]

the beast of busan

you’re the only reporter who wasn't scared of documenting the valentine's day crimes of jeon jungkook - a notorious serial killer known as the beast of busan. @minshookie29 @whipwhoops @sweetempathprunetree @chimmy-licious @darkuni63 @bangtans-momma @investedreader @somehowukook @yunhoswrldddd @curse-of-art

word count: 18.607

warning: multiple character death, yandere/dark themes, obsessive behavior, blood, mentions of death, reader is somewhat exploitative, erotomania jk, narcissism, manipulative tactics/moments, dry humping, neck kissing, dub-con/non-con elements, dirty talking, nipple sucking, fingering, face/ass slapping, overall this is a yandere based account and this is a yandere fic so please read the warnings,

valentine's day masterlist

“On Valentine’s Day, Busan has endured one of the most heinous crimes imaginable on a day that is supposed to be about love. It was dubbed “The Valentine’s Day Murder’s” by some for how gruesome the crimes were of the couples slain that night. However,” there was a pause as your eyes flicker to Jungkook. His eyes meet yours and he smiles proudly. “the murders had not stopped on the Holiday and instead, there was a serial killer tormenting the people of Busan.”

Jungkook chuckles quietly and you feel disgusted. It’s as if you weren’t speaking about him - as if you and he weren’t in the same all white cafeteria in the prison he resided where he was deemed a psychopath for his lack of empathy. You are positive he was reveling in the fact that you were here - in the same sundress he told you to wear - and interviewing him.

It makes your skin crawl.

“For the following months, the serial killer continued tormenting the people of Busan, killing any and everyone who he deemed fit that caused a panic throughout the city. No one knew if they were next - me included.”

Jungkook tilts his head, lips pursing a bit at your last comment.

“The serial killer was given the name…the Beast of Busan. And today, I’m interviewing him to get a deeper, more introspective outlook on why. Starting from the very beginning.”

Jungkook is excited, never having been interviewed like this before - at least not one with someone so beautiful such as yourself.

“Jeon Jungkook…” you gulp after saying his name. “...please introduce yourself.”

“My name is Jeon Jungkook. People of Busan know me as the Beast of Busan.” Jungkook chuckles, completely unfazed and lacks any empathy of why he got the name. “I was born and raised here. It’s my home. I love Busan.”

It was Jungkook’s idea to have camera’s set up facing him as he speaks into the microphone. He said whoever supports him would want to see footage of him - a vain statement. 

“You cannot love it that much, surely. You caused a panic.”

Jungkook licks his lips. “That I have.” he nods in agreement. 

“Would you like to tell us why?” you question. “Jungkook, did you know the victims?”

Jungkook blinks a few times as he contemplates the question. “Well, I’ve watched all of your live reports. That’s how I know their names.”

The flashing lights are nearly blinding as you power walk up the scene -  a crime scene. There’s yellow tape surrounding the home and police officers along with medics coming in and out of said home. There’s a small crowd of people surrounding the area that are being pushed aside by police.

“Reporter Lee is already on the scene.” you murmur to your camera man behind you, glancing at the reporter who was already giving an interview. “Start the camera.” 

You swallow thickly and await for the camera to start. “Hi,” you say towards the camera, the light flashing at you as it begins rolling. “Y/L Y/N reporting live at the scene of a gruesome murder. Right behind me is the home belonging to Kim Bora and Da Byeong-ho. Neighbors reported hearing screaming coming from inside the home and had contacted authorities. Upon arrival, authorities had found both bodies covered in blood and multiple stab wounds.”

Two stretchers are seen behind you and in the view of the camera. There’s gasps coming from surrounding people as police bring out said stretchers with the bodies of the fallen couple. Their bodies are zipped tightly inside of the black bag. 

“Authorities are unsure who was the culprit behind the murders thus far,” you turn your head towards Reporter Lee whose eyes are already on you. “More information to come.”

The camera is cut just as the bodies are brought inside the ambulances. The flashing lights are illuminating off of your skin and even if you don’t look it, your heart is thumping outside your chest.

Busan didn’t have this - there was a murderer on the loose. Now of course, it could have been personally - someone knew the couple for who they were. However, there was also the possibility that this was a random couple that someone chose to slain and the fact that whoever it was has not been caught sends shivers down your spine. 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Reporter Lee stands before you with a smirk on his lips. You stand straighter. “Death is not a laughing matter.” you retort.

“It isn’t.” Reporter Lee nods in agreement. “However, something like this isn’t meant for women.”

“Excuse you?” you raise an eyebrow at the man. 

“I mean,” Reporter Lee shrugs his shoulders. “You should be reporting something softer. Death is so hardcore.”

“I’m aware. Thank you.” you turn away from Reporter Lee and at your camera man. “Let’s go.” you murmur, not sparing the man another glance.

Reporter Lee was infamous in Busan for always being at the scene of any crime committed - petty theft, break ins. This was just the cherry on top - a murder case. While other Reporters were now running to hop on the train, you were the only woman and he made sure he was going to make it harder for you.��

“You women have it easy,” you recall him stating one day as you follow behind him on scene of a robbery. “All you have to do is look pretty in front of the camera and you have people’s attention. There’s no real hardship for you.”

How wrong Reporter Lee was, because even now as you are just as qualified as these men are in journalism and reporting, you are still deemed as nothing but eye candy. 

However, you were not a fool. You wouldn’t allow whatever these men thought of you to run you off - if anything, it made you want to work harder to break out in the field of reporting. Being a woman did have its perks, but your plans wouldn’t work if the men saw you as a person instead of a piece of meat. You managed to get a hold of a police scanner and it made your job easier - especially when there was a reported murder just a few blocks away from the first one. 

“Y/L Y/N reporting live from the scene of yet another murder.” you say into the camera as police scattered behind you. “Reports say that the woman, Won Duri, had called the police while her boyfriend was being brutally attacked right in front of her. Here is the recording.”

The cameraman is fast, playing the recording that was saved from the police scanner. Screams erupt from the woman on the phone in an attempt to find help for her boyfriend. Behind her screams are muffled ones, followed by what appears to sound like stabbing and blood splatter. It’s chilling to listen to, but you manage to keep your face emotionless.

“Right behind me,” you say as the recording goes silent. “police are escorting the body of Won Duri’s boyfriend, Yuk Jaehyung, to the hospital. He is in critical condition while Won Duri managed to remain unharmed.”

Won Duri is a crying mess who is attempting to be consoled by police officers. She’s covered in blood belonging to her boyfriend. “Excuse me,” you say as you come closer to the victim. “please tell-”

“You cannot be here.” one police officer says, pushing you aside roughly. “This is a crime scene.”

“I’m well aware.” you retort. “I’m here to speak to the victim. Obviously,”

‘Obviously,” the police officer interrupts. “She is in no position to talk.”

“Maybe she would be easier to speak with a woman than being surrounded by men after being attacked by one.” you spit, voice laced with venom.

The police officers are taken aback by your words, but even he takes a step back.

“Pass me a water bottle.” you say an officer. You come closer to Duri and place a hand onto her shoulder. “You must be so frightened, Duri. It’s okay.” 

Duri’s eyes are wide and she's handed a bottle of water by an officer. 

“Have you seen your attacker?” you ask Duri. She nods hesitantly. “Can you describe him for us? It’ll make it easier for investigators to find him.”

You’re patient with Duri as she slowly takes a sip of her water. Her hands are trembling the entire time and you’re truly sorry for what the woman had to endure. 

“He was young.” Duri’s voice is soft and timid. “U-Um, black hair. He…had hand tattoos.”

You nod your head the entire time, never losing eye contact with Duri. 

“I remember a p-purple heart. His eyes were so…dark. He had a lip piercing and…”

Duri begins to cry and you glance at the officers. “Thank you, Duri.” you tell her, offering a shoulder squeeze. 

You take a few steps back and turn back to your cameraman. “Did you get all of that?” you ask him and when he nods, you sigh. “Duri managed to survive the attack and got a good look at her attacker. There’s no way in Hell he won’t be caught.”

The Beast of Busan was what the killer was called, and on Valentine’s Day he had ended his spree with murdering a dozen more couples on the same day. The city was in shambles, all wondering just who the Beast of Busan was and the reasons for his actions. Some reporters had speculated it was because he was single and hated couples - a popular theory amongst the group of reporters. Others suggested that the culprit was not a killer, but a group of killers working together because of how rapid the murders were. 

You, however, didn’t dwell too much into the “Why”. “The murderer or murderers do not need a reason to kill. They kill because he or they wants to.” you say, microphone close to your mouth as you speak, your eyes right in the camera. “Whoever the Beast of Busan is, there is never a reason to kill and harm innocent people.”

“Thank you, Y/N.”

That voice, your mind groans. Reporter Lee stands in front of your camera without a welcome. He understands that live recording is crucial for reporters, so you wouldn’t shove your foot up his ass and break away from your professional view. 

“I, however, believe the Beast of Busan is a coward.” Reporter Lee states into your camera. “He’s a jealous incel who’s possibly a lonely bastard, excuse my language, and murdered the lives of innocent people simply because they were couples.” Reporter Lee shrugs his shoulders. “I suppose you could be correct.” you lick your lips, clenching the microphone in your hand. “That could be the reason. But-”

“Could?” Reporter Lee scoffs. “What other reason would he murder couples on Valentine’s Day?”

“There’s been other mass murderers that do so without deeper meaning, Reporter Lee.” your grit your teeth in an attempt to smile at him - not genuine in the slightest. “We will only know when the Beast of Busan is arrested.” you turn towards your camera man and smile. “I’m Y/L Y/N, thank you.”

Your head snaps to Reporter Lee as soon as the camera stops rolling. “What the fuck-”

“Calm down.” Reporter Lee rolls his eyes, not allowing you the chance to speak. He turns away from you and begins to walk. Your eyes widen at the rudeness of it all.

“Fuck you!” you hiss after him, your palm throbbing with how hard you were clenching the microphone. You wanted nothing more than to hurl it at the back of his head, but that would do nothing but cause an unnecessary scene. 

“Y/N…”

Your camera man places a hand on your shoulder. 

“I know.” you sigh. Inhale, exhale, you tell yourself. “I’m just tired of being disrespected.”

You weren’t taken seriously - and you never were. You didn’t even consider reporting to be a “male dominated field”, however, it was becoming such. You weren’t as well-known as Reporter Lee, him being the top stationed in Busan, but you also didn’t look down on others such as him. How he was considered the best reporter is beyond you. 

“What do you think the reason is?” your cameraman asks as he and you stroll towards the van. “Could there be a deeper reason for why he murdered those people?”

You shrug your shoulders. “Maybe it’s because we give them cool names like ‘The Beast of Busan’.” you scoff, not entirely selling your argument. “I don’t think there’s a deeper reason as to why people do what they do. Murder is never an option.”

Your heart jolts when Jungkook’s eyes are suddenly on you, a shiver running up your spine at his words. 

“I didn’t know them before. They were strangers to me.” Jungkook shrugs. “By your reports, Won Duri called the police as I was tussling with her boyfriend.”

“Tussling? Or brutally attacking?” you nearly spit.

Jungkook flashes you a low grin. “We can call it that.” he nods. “Yuk Jaehyung was his name. Again, I didn't know him. Didn’t care to know him.” he shrugs. “I only know his name because I watched your live report on the matter.”

You wished Jungkook would stop trying to add you into the mix. It’s subtle, but it’s enough for some people to think deeper - and you don't need any conspiracies tied to your name. 

“What was your reasoning for attacking the couple - and a dozen more?”

Jungkook’s eyes trails over the sundress, admiring the way it sits against your body. “You look very pretty today.”

“I’ll have to edit that out.” you sigh, but your body reacts for you, heat radiating throughout. 

“Sorry.” Jungkook flashes a smile that would cause your heart to beat faster if he wasn’t a serial killer who lacked empathy. “Would it be sad to say…that I didn’t have a reason?”

Jungkook’s skin appears to glow in the camera, your eyes flickering to the way he leans a bit closer, his jaw appears chiseled and you understood why he had a bit of fangirls. Maybe it was easier to be attracted to a killer when he was behind bars - still, he was just that. A killer. 

“Maybe I was bored?” Jungkook says with a careless shrug. “Maybe what people were saying was correct. Maybe I was lonely and took it out on couples.”

You remain silent as Jungkook speaks.

“Or maybe I just did it, just because. To see how far I’d be able to go.”

Jungkook’s tone gets deeper and deeper as he speaks, his eyes more cloudy. That familiar switch turns off and it’s as if the Beast is emerging. 

“Maybe…I wanted your attention.”

You can feel the hair begin to rise on your skin. “Excuse me?” you murmur. “I didn’t know you prior to-”

“I knew you, Y/N.”

Your eyes begin to widen slowly. 

“Maybe you were the reason why I killed them.”

“Stop.”

“I wanted to get your attention any way I could. Any attention from you is good attention in my eyes.”

“Stop.” your teeth grit, heart pounding so loudly. “You said-”

“I know what I said, baby. I’ll never do anything to incriminate you.” Jungkook chuckles, bunny teeth on display. “Let’s continue the interview, yeah?”

“You aren’t scared?” Jimin asks with raised eyebrows and a concerned look.

You scoffed.

“Why should I be?”

A month had passed since the Valentine’s Day Massacre - a name given by the people - by the Beast of Busan - another name given. Police and investigators had yet to find the person or people responsible. 

The city of Busan was left in shambles. People were in a frenzy, wondering if they’d be next. They kept extra precaution while law enforcement did the same. There was now a curfew of 9 PM for everyone who did not have a Government job, and if so, they would be escorted to and from work by armed police.

“He’s murdered several reporters. Including Reporter Lee.” Jimin says matter-of-factly, as if it was an obvious statement - and it was. “Do you really want to keep tempting him until he finds you?”

Your last cameraman had resigned, stating that the job isn't worth his life. You couldn’t be upset with him - after the news of Reporter Lee’s death, it caused a shift for all reporters. The murderer had left a handwritten note - written with the blood of Reporter Lee - stating that he had killed him.

Jimin was your new cameraman that had started a week ago. He was kind and cute - would fit the description of a reporter instead of a cameraman. He had the charm and the charisma to be in front of a camera. 

“If I don’t report then we’re both out of a job, Jimin.” you remind him with a nod of your head. “What is happening now is truly sickening…” you begin, licking your lips. Your mind flashes with the gruesome sight of Reporter Lee’s home. Blood splatter across the walls and seeping through the wooden floors. It haunts you at night. “...but I’m not going to let anyone come between what I love to do.”

Jimin could only sigh. He respected you and your courageousness, truly. He just hoped you knew what you were getting yourself into. 

In your mind, you did know what you were getting yourself into. You wouldn’t lie and say that it didn’t frighten you to your core - that it didn’t keep you up at night at times. You couldn’t sleep most nights, and when you did, you would see the bloodied bodies of the reporters who all died doing exactly what you were doing.

You often looked over your shoulders when you were alone - which was only when you were home. You invested in several cameras and alarms and even went as far as keeping several weapons near you when you were home and on your person while you were out.

It’s insane to think that you live your life as if your job was dangerous - but now it was. You were possibly targeted by the Beast of Busan simply because you refuse to halt reporting on his heinous crimes. 

You opened up your bottled water and only managed to take a sip before your police scanner was going off once more.

Your eyes turn to Jimin who only nods, getting the point that you wanted him to drive to the destination.

There had been another murder and, of course, the suspect was no one other than the Beast of Busan. Upon the scene, there were no other reporters - which is expected. Reporters had since quit their jobs once they learned of the deaths of their competition.

“Y/L Y/N live on the scene of yet another brutal murder.”  you speak, microphone close to your lips as Jimin already has the camera’s rolling.

There’s dozens of police officers behind you that are adding caution tape. The townspeople, much like the reporters, were no longer interested in showing their faces around the crime scenes. They would rather watch the news from their homes behind locked doors - not that you could blame them. You and Jimin were deemed highly courageous to still show your faces publicly where the Beast could possibly find you.

“Officer’s,” you nod your head as two police officers had stepped forward. They appeared to be distressed - you assume the crime scene was another brutal sight. “were there any survivors?”

One officer sighs with a shake of his head. He glances from you to the camera. 

“Reporter Y/L…we have something you might want to see.” the other officer speaks. 

Your hand clenches your microphone as you are shown a bloodied picture. The irony smell hits your nostrils almost immediately and your stomach begins to clench.

You release a struggle gasp at what the picture is.

You.

It was you - not reporting. You don’t recall anyone being around when you had made your way home that one evening. You appear to be dazed, as if stuck in your own thoughts.

“There’s a message behind the picture.” the officer speaks, slowly turning it around - almost as if this was a moving and the camera is panning onto the picture in slow motion.

You swallow down your fears. You are positive that everyone watching is terrified for you - you’d be another reporter dead by the hands of the Beast.

“Lovely Y/N,” you read aloud, eyes looking towards the camera. “you’re so beautiful when you’re not looking. I hope you enjoy the masterpiece I left for you.”

Jimin cuts the cameras before you have to tell him to and instantly, you release your nerves onto the ground besides you. 

“You have to stop reporting on him, Y/N.” Jimin nearly pleads. “He’s been following you!”

“You’re going to need more protection.” one officer sighs, rubbing at his temples. “That’s what he wants.” you spit, your throat clenching up once more and for a moment you think you’re going to vomit again. 

“Y/N…” Jimin sighs with a disbelieving shake of his head. “...you cannot be serious?”

“I’m not going to stop reporting on him.” you turn your back and begin to walk towards the news van. “He wants people to fear him as if he’s some sort of entity. Like a force to be reckoned with.”

Jimin follows close behind you. “He’s been following you, Y/N. You aren’t safe!”

“None,” your hand grasps onto the door handle and you swing it open. In the passenger seat is a bottle of water. You grab it to wash your mouth out. “of us are safe. Just in one month, Jimin, he’s managed to scare everyone off of the streets.”

You gargle onto the water before spitting it out.

You were terrified, you won’t lie. You couldn’t bear venturing further into the crime scene to witness how gruesome the murders were - or how he left you a personal note. Surely it was to scare you away from doing your job - scare you away from your passion.

You wouldn’t.

“Is this really worth your life, Y/N?” Jimin’s voice is like the angel on your shoulder attempting to steer you away from harm. 

“I understand that it isn’t worth yours, Jimin.” you turn to him with a soft look in your eyes. “If you want to leave, I won’t stop you. I’m not stopping.” you shake your head. “I’m not going to cower away like a dog with their tail between their legs.”

Jimin thinks your bravery is admirable - even if your plans were suicidal. There was a serial killer in Busan, killing innocent people just because he could and here you stand as if it was a regular day.

“Just…promise me you’ll stay safe.” Jimin sighs. He wasn’t going to steer you away from what you were determined to do. There was a spark in your eye; this was a challenge to you. It was a rivalry similar to what you and Reporter Lee had; the difference is, your life's on the line.

The next hour - and the following month - was just like this. Jungkook would often flirt with you and each passing day, it would get even more inappropriate. It was the same thing time and time again, the switch would flip and he would be back to his boy-next-door ways and he would be complicit in the interview.

You had a month full of content and the first episode would be released on your Podcast and - thanks to Jimin - your own website. 

Jungkook had insisted he didn’t speak to anyone else while he gave you the information you needed. It felt wrong doing this - giving Jungkook a platform where he never truly felt sorry for what he’s done. A part of you feels horrible for profiting off of the death and trauma of others for your own personal gain.

“Once the money starts rolling in, baby, you’ll be fine.” Jungkook had said. Baby was his new pet name for you, no matter how many times you told him that it made you uncomfortable. His response was that if you truly felt uncomfortable in his presence, you’d stop returning day by day.

“There'll be mixed reactions for sure.” Jimin says once he manages to upload the first episode to your podcast and the video interview to your website. “But you’re a reporter and you’ll be ready for them.”

You nod your head, releasing a deep breath. 

“So,” Jimin turns to you. “what happens now? Are you done seeing Jungkook?”

You want to say yes. You want to feel free from Jungkook and his terrifying gaze and his sudden changes of mood. You don’t want to feel so small in front of someone who isn’t able to harm you - so vulnerable.

Truth is, you’re unsure of yourself. Jungkook had insisted that you come back and see him time and time again, and now that you didn’t need to, what was the point?

“I have my life to lose if I don’t.” you say to Jimin. 

“You’re going to keep allowing him to threaten you?” Jimin questions with a raised eyebrow. “He’s in prison for a reason. I’m sure if you don’t return…what could truly happen? We have everything we need already. Everyone will know about Jungkook and just how insane he is.”

You open your mouth to speak but Jimin wasn’t done. 

“You are the reporter. You are the one that managed to get the story of Jungkook as the Beast of Busan. Anything he says after that would just go against his own story, wouldn’t it?”

Jimin was right - and you’ve always known. It was Jungkook that had such leverage over you that even the thought of him lying frightens you to your core. 

“I understand.” you sigh, defeated. 

“You want to watch the first episode?” Jimin furrows his brow. “The views are going up by the minute and there’s already so much traction on your site.”

Jimin wasn’t lying and as each episode dropped week by week, you - and Jungkook - were the talk happening on every news, radio, podcast station. There were indeed mixed reviews, some thanking you for telling the story of Jungkook - most people despised him but were interested in his story. Other’s despised you and Jungkook, stating that you were doing nothing but giving a psychopath a platform; and you were. 

Jungkook was right when he said you’d be racking in large amounts of money, a part of you feeling utterly shitty about how you’ve contained this money. You’ve done what you thought would be the right thing and donated a large sum of the money you’ve earned over the last few months to the families of Jungkook’s victims as this was also their stories being told.

It was as if time stood still.

The reign of terror that Busan has experienced for months on end was finally put to a stop - and the murderous being that was called the Beast of Busan has been captured.

You have seen many phenomenons during your life as a reporter, but this would be the most shocking in your book.

Jeon Jungkook, age 27, has been confirmed to be the serial murderer who had slain innocent people, starting on Valentine’s day earlier in the year. 

Many people had their suspicions on who the Beast was. An older man with a vengeance against younger couples in love because he found none. Someone vile and cruel and looked the part.

What anyone - you included - was not expecting was someone young. 

Someone handsome.

Jeon Jungkook was something straight out of a movie - the typical love interest in your favorite romance. The common boy next story with boyish looks that would cause your heart to flutter and your body to heat up.

Tall with dark hair that curls slightly at the tips of it. It sits at his shoulders and in the slight wind in the evening, it flows beautifully. 

His skin appears soft and smooth - blemish free and so young-like to add to his boyish appearance. But it was his body that reminded everyone that he was a man; a fit one at that. His shirt, white and stained with crimson blood, clings to him. Its sleeves are short and display a full arm of tattoos. His jeans are ripped at the knee’s and again, stained with the same blood. 

Jeon Jungkook caused a frenzy when he was arrested - you being the only reporter on the scene. You couldn’t look at him, not after what he’s put you through the last few months. Constant letters addressed to you that got worse and worse as time led on - more inappropriate and sexual.

 “I often watch you on the news and think just how lovely your lips would look wrapped around me…”

“You’re so stubborn and independent. I cannot wait to make you submit to me…”

And those were the tame ones.

Your eyes avert when his head snaps to you. Your heart was pounding outside your chest and visible, your hand - clenching your microphone - began to shake with nerves. Jimin had noticed and cut the camera’s quickly from you and towards Jungkook - who’s eyes stared right at you. 

It was evident from the beginning that Jeon Jungkook had no desire to kill you - and if he did, he was just toying with you first. The amount of times that he has come too close without being caught was countless. He would leave bloodied roses outside your home and letters signed with “Your Beast”.

You were lucky to be alive, some said. Blessed, as if God was on your side.

You didn’t show the public that it was difficult to sleep at night because you felt as though his eyes - eyes you never seen until his arrest - were on you. You felt the constant need to ride and hide from someone you never knew if they were truly watching you or not.

Your mind racks through countless memories to see if you’ve ever seen Jeon Jungkook before as he was the perfect serial killer. He was someone you could have walked past and never suspected simply because of his appearance.

Months dragged on and Jeon Jungkook, also known as the Beast of Busan, was a hit.

Like an idol - not one to look up to in the slightest.

You were shocked when each court hearing, there were countless women - even men - outside on the side of a murderer. There were some declaring that he wasn’t the Beast simply because of his appearance, completely ignoring the fact that he was caught at the scene of the crime - and confessed to over a dozen others.

You attended each hearing alongside Jimin, your legs shaking with nerves.

Jeon Jungkook terrified you - the way his head would turn and his eyes would lock with your before he would give a curt wave and a low smirk. He didn’t seem bothered that he was facing several life sentences.

The letters never stopped - not even when you signed a restraining order and demanded that he would not have the possibility to do so. You were told that Jungkook never sent you letters directly - his followers did.

It causes shivers to run up your spine at the thought of someone like Jungkook - a murderous human being - could have followers and fangirls. With a snap of his finger, they did whatever he desired. It was as if he wasn’t sitting in prison due to his crimes. They looked at Jungkook as some sort of Prophet. 

“Maybe you should take some time off.” Jimin suggested, having witnessed you down yet another cup of coffee. “He’s weighing on your mind heavily.”

“Of course he fucking is. People don’t see him as a piece of shit like I do.” you hiss, not truly meaning to speak to Jimin in such a harsh tone. “How is it that people think he’s innocent? Or the ones who know he did it, they…they romanticize it?!”

Jimin takes a deep breath. He isn’t sure how to console you. Jungkook is locked away in a prison and yet it’s as if he’s roaming free. 

You remained looking over your shoulder constantly. The bloodied roses continued to be at your doorstep every day, all signed with “Your Beast”. You received phone calls - the first one you answered had been Jungkook himself, claiming that he wished to speak with you. When you blocked the number, the calls remained, all three way calls with his followers. It got to the point that you hadn’t answered your phone in weeks.

“People romanticize the both of you.” Jimin taps his fingers against his thighs. “Like some sort of Bonnie and Clyde.”

“I’m not complicit in his bullshit.” you close your eyes and inhale, counting just like your therapist had told you to. You couldn’t allow yourself to get too worked up. “I just want him to leave me alone, Jimin. I don’t….I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Jimin swallows. “How about…” he begins. “...you talk with him.”

“Jimin-”

“In the form of an interview!” Jimin raises his hand in defense. “Just, hear him out. He refuses to speak to anyone but you. You could be the one to sell the story of the Beast of Busan himself.”

You couldn’t believe that Jimin wanted you to profit off of this madness - and face the man that stalks you right from a jail cell. 

“Take back your own control, Y/N. You’re the one that’s free, not him.” Jimin shrugs his shoulders. “Don’t let him control your life more than he already has.”

You sigh, leaning back into your chair. 

Was Jimin onto something? Could you possibly do that without chickening out?

What were you scared of? He couldn’t hurt you - not while in prison. If he wanted to, surely he would have. 

But you remained terrified of what could happen, and deep down it was you becoming the same as the fangirls who preached for his release.

“Y/N.”

It took yet another month for you to sit across from Jeon Jungkook.

The cafeteria is large and pristin. White walls, white tiled floors with white lights and white tables and chairs - all metal. It matches the all white attire that Jungkook wears, similar to a prison jumpsuit, just bleached white and clean. The windows right outside display the current season - autumn. The leaves are a different shade of brown and orange while the wind blows them along the ground.

“You look beautiful.”

Jungkook had agreed to your interview quite too quickly for your liking, but he had his own conditions.

Jungkook wanted to be alone with you - security just outside the door. He had promised to never hurt you - a promise you didn’t believe in the slightest. He isn’t bound, either, no cuffs or chains to restrain him if he desires to cause you any harm.

“Y/L Y/N,” you speak, the recorder on the table right in the middle. You ignore his complement. “And I am here with Jeon Jungkook.”

“Also known as the Beast of Busan.” Jungkook speaks, a hint of mischief and humor in his voice. His eyes, dark and doe like, twinkle underneath the white lights. 

Jungkook is proud to be what he is - a murderer. He gained respect, adoration and notoriety for being such. Why be an outstanding human being when people would grow fond of you just by your looks and charisma alone, completely ignoring the way you heinously slain human life?

“Jungkook,” you murmur. There’s a glass of water beside you and you had the sudden urge to take a sip. 

“I like the way you say my name.” Jungkook’s right hand allows his head to lean upon it as he blinks towards you. 

“Stop flirting with me.” you demand, snatching the glass of water and taking a gulp.

“Why? Is it because you like what I’m saying?” he murmurs, voice dropping in tone. “What if I’m not flirting with you?”

“Don’t try to manipulate me.” you snort, slamming down the glass onto the metal table. “Those letters you’ve sent me were inappropriate. What do you gain from them?”

Jungkook tilts his head a bit, allowing a low chuckle from his lips. “Why not?” he murmurs, eyes unmoving from your face. “Shouldn’t you be happy that you have my undivided attention? I send you flowers every day.”

“C-Covered in blood!” you hiss, taken aback. “Who delivers them?”

“Why worry yourself with irrelevancies?” Jungkook waves your question off. “You’re here to interview me, are you not? Ask me anything you wanna know!”

You watch as Jungkook leans back into his seat and waits for you to ask him questions. It was a staring match between the two of you - his dark eyes unmoving and seemingly, unblinking. You weren’t one to give up a challenge, either, but you would be lying if you said he wasn’t intimidating. 

“Why have you murdered innocent people?”

Jungkook snorts once more. He licks his lips, eyes trailing over your body with such perverseness that it causes your skin to crawl. 

“Why…not?”

The tone in Jungkook’s voice - so nonchalant and uncaring. As if the question wasn’t worth his time answering. He stares right back at you, his eyes admiring the way your eyebrow would twitch cutely with irritation.

“I mean,” Jungkook leans forward once more. “even you said that there was a possibility that there wasn’t a motive behind my actions, correct? That I was nothing but a monster that killed just because.”

Not exactly your words, but it’s what you did imply. You recall speaking with Reporter Lee about the situation towards the beginning of his killing spree.

“Is that why you killed those reporters?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Yes and no,” he admits. “I killed them because of you honestly.”

You freeze, slowly widening your eyes. You should stop the interview right here and now and leave - you didn’t want to be caught up in whatever mess Jungkook was attempting to drag you into.

“W-What-”

“I saw how they treated you, Y/N. As if you were nothing.” Jungkook shakes his head. “As if you didn’t work just as hard as them. Maybe even harder.”

A tattooed hand places itself onto the cool metal table. Jungkook lightly taps his fingers against it. 

“Sure, they upset me because they talked shit about me live. But so did you.” Jungkook throws a low smirk your way. “I killed them so you could be at the top. I’d admit…I thought I would scare you away at first. See how committed you were to your craft…and you proved to be stronger than any of those men.”

“I…” you’re unsure what to respond with. Could you be charged as an accessory - surely not! You had not known what Jungkook’s intentions were or been a part of them. “I didn’t tell you to do that.”

“You mean…you didn’t want me to?” Jungkook questions with a raised eyebrow. He chuckles at your flustered expression. “This interview isn’t getting aired, huh, Y/N? It’ll make you look bad, too.”

Jungkook halts his tapping against the table. “Or I can say whatever you want me to.” he shrugs. “So you can be in a positive light.”

“Why are you doing this?” you question, your voice barely above a whisper. Your heart is pounding so fast outside your chest.

“Doing what?” Jungkook asks innocently. 

“I��m not one of your fucking fangirls!” you hiss, hands clenched into fists. “You can’t manipulate-”

“Calm down.” Jungkook raises both hands. “I’m not trying to manipulate you. What would I gain from that? I’m locked away for the rest of my life.”

Your hands unclenched so you could rub your temples. You take a deep breath.

“You taunt me, Jungkook.” you say behind gritted teeth. “You keep sending me letters and flowers and…you have people watch me! I don’t feel safe. Tell me what you want.”

Jungkook raises both brows. “Why don’t you feel safe? They won’t harm you.” he says, a bit of concern - you’re unsure if it’s fraudulent or not - in his voice.

“You’re a serial killer.” you deadpan with a scoff of disbelief. “Why would I feel safe being involved with you?”

“You aren’t dead.” Jungkook interjects. “Have I ever harmed you? Have I ever put my hands on you…?”

Jungkook watches you as he awaits a response. You bite the inside of your cheek. You were beginning to think that he was the interviewer and you were the one locked in a prison. 

“I watched you sleep at night…tossing and turning.” Jungkook’s voice drops again, a hushed whisper as if he was revealing a secret - and in a way, he was. “Isn’t that insane? I managed to get past the officers parked outside your home…past several cameras and made it right into your bedroom…”

A chill runs up your spine once his words register. Your mind races, going through countless memories of times you woke up randomly in the middle of the night. You told yourself that you were just frightened; rightfully so. Jungkook had slain countless innocent civilians and reporters that you just knew that you were next.

Jungkook suddenly inhales, leaning a bit closer to you from across the table. He sighs. 

“I can even smell the perfume you wear. Chanel, right? You have a bit of an expensive taste.”

It was obvious that Jungkook wasn’t lying and the thought of him being so close the entire time causes the hair on your skin to rise. Your lips  part and you let out a strained gasp.

“I don’t want you dead, Y/N. You fascinate me, you know?” 

“I think I’m done.” you murmur in a rush, your hand reaching out to grasp the small recorder to stop, but Jungkook is faster. His tattooed hand slams on top of it before yours could and you flinch away as if he was going to strike.

“Interview’s over so soon?” Jungkook questions with a raised eyebrow. “You barely asked me any questions.”

“I need to go.” 

Jungkook tilts his head. “Are you scared of me, Y/N?” he asks as if the answer wasn’t obvious. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion at what this man - a sick individual - could be possibly speaking of. What in the world could you want from him?

“You wanted to be a respected reporter and I made you one.” Jungkook clicks off the recorder himself and slides it towards you. “People were tuned in to watch you because of me. You would be in the shadows if I had not taken out the competition.”

“T-That’s not-”

“Don’t bullshit me, Y/N. I killed them because of you.” Jungkook hisses, dark eyes not blinking. “Reporter Lee…Reporter Jung…they’re dead because of you.”

That same shiver runs up your spine at Jungkook’s words. You’re stiff, heart pounding outside your chest and mind screaming at you to leave - screaming that Jungkook was wrong; but that he was also right. 

Your career had elevated because of the deaths of the reporters reporting on the Beast of Busan. You were determined to not allow that to stop you from doing what you loved - but in truth, Jungkook had not killed you because you were cautious; he didn’t because he had no desire to. 

“How about this?” Jungkook’s eyes blink and in a moment, it’s as if he’s the same boy next door. “You can write a book? Or maybe do a little series…how about a podcast?” Jungkook shrugs his shoulders. “And I’ll be nice and cooperative. You’ll be even more successful.”

You want to laugh in his face, but even now you don’t dare to. 

You had no desire to be more successful because of Jungkook as, no matter how cruel, it was true that your success depended on the death of innocent people.

“What do you want from me?”

Jungkook chuckles. It’s amazing how he could turn the sadistic side of him off and appear like an everyday man with charm. “I want you, silly.” he responds with a shake of his head, as if it was such a comical and obvious question. “I want to see you every other day!”

“I-I don’t-”

“Or I can speak to someone else.” Jungkook shrugs his shoulders. “Now that I’m no threat to the public, I have people lining up for interviews.”

“Then maybe you should speak to someone else.” you hiss, snatching your recorder from the table and when you’re about to stand is when Jungkook responds. 

“And I’ll tell them you were an accomplice.” Jungkook brings his fingers to his lips and makes a hushed shushing sound. “That you had me kill those reporters to elevate your career.”

You breath hitches at Jungkook’s words. “That’s not true…!”

“Of course it isn’t.” Jungkook snorts. “But I’m already in jail with nothing else to lose.” he shrugs his shoulders. “I mean, c’mon. You out of all people survived against the Beast of Busan? The last reporter standing?” he snickers. 

“Stop…” 

“Look how much it elevated your career, Y/N. Out of all the people I agreed to see…it was you. Investigators can check the visitors log and prove that you were an accomplice.”

“Stop it!” you want to scream, but it’s hushed and strained. 

“Don’t look like that, Y/N. I hate to see you look so sad.” Jungkook clicks his tongue. “I don’t want to do that, you know?”

“What do you want from me?” 

Jungkook hums, his lips forming a smile that’s laced with sadism. “I want you. Is that too much to ask for? I want you to grace my presence with your pretty face and in return…you’ll have an inclusive story from the Beast himself.” 

Jungkook then laughs at the way he says the Beast - the way he speaks about himself. 

“You would be a renowned reporter turned…author, maybe? Who knows?” Jungkook shrugs his shoulders and waves his hands. “How about…you come back tomorrow and we can start from the beginning. You can ask me anything you’d wish to know and I’ll answer truthfully.”

You sniffle, your nose scrunching cutely that Jungkook couldn’t help but want to coo. 

You release a deep breath, your mind screaming at you to run as far away as possible - but you only know that it wouldn’t be the end; it never will. Jungkook has eyes on you constantly and it causes your skin to crawl and now, you’d be unable to know just who was one of his followers. If you denied Jungkook now, he would only lie to the press and have you in jail alongside him.

“O…Okay.” you murmur quietly, your tone - along with your expression - defeated. 

“Lovely.” Jungkook claps his hands together, dark eyes twinkling and a smile on his lips. “You should wear that dress you have in your closet tomorrow. The sundress.”

You feel the familiar shiver run up your spine once more.

Jungkook watches you from the small screen in the corner of the all white room. His head is tilted to the side as you speak to the interviewer - you looked so beautiful, he thinks. His pen is tapping against the notebook he’s currently drawing you in, the blue ink displaying such a lovely picture of you that he keeps in his sketch book - the third one he has filled up so far.

 You were glowing as you spoke to the reporter. You were truly a work of art with a heart of gold that he admires as others would have allowed the new found fame to get to their heads - but not you. You were the special ones on Earth, someone so noble.

“Now Y/N, talk to me. How did it feel to be so close to him?” the interviewer asks you and Jungkook visibly straightens up as he awaits your response. “I mean, it had to be terrifying being next to the Beast of Busan himself!”

“At first it was.” you nodded your head. “But I had to remind myself that I wasn’t the one incarcerated.”

Jungkook hums at your response. 

“You managed to come face to face with a serial killer and you weren’t the least bit scared?”

“Of course not.” you snorted. “Jeon Jungkook gained notoriety because we as a society gave it to him. Why do we call him the Beast of Busan when he’s nothing but a regular human being like you and I? A terrible one at that.”

Slowly, Jungkook’s eyes begin to widen at your words. Is that what you thought of him after all the long hours he’s helped you with your site? That he was nothing but a terrible person - as if he wasn’t the one who encouraged you to profit off of his story?

“My time alongside Jungkook wasn’t something I’ve enjoyed.” you shook your head. “He’s a psychopath that lacks any form of accountability. He’s…in a way, a scared little boy.”

The pen is being clenched in the palm of his hand so tight that it begins to pulse. He can feel the array of eyes of inmates on him as your words repeat over and over again in his head.

“In one of the episodes, Jungkook states that there wasn’t a reason for what he’s done. Do you think that’s true?”

“There’s always a reason for why people do what they do. It’s cowardly, in my opinion, for someone to take innocent lives. I’m sure there had to be a deeper reason for why Jungkook did what he did, but I won’t dig any deeper into his life.” you explained, nodding your head to the interviewer. “I’ve done my job and now, I want to not give any more recognition to Jeon Jungkook. I want him to be a distant memory in the back of all of our heads.”

The metal chair squeaks harshly as he slams his body up. A few inmates all gasp and cover their ears as Jungkook screams, hurling the notebook - all filled with portraits of you - across the room. He was angered - rightfully so. You had used him for your own gain and threw him aside as if he was nothing.

As if he wasn’t the reason why you - a reporter - was being interviewed. He was the reason you had no competition in a world where you were never respected.

He was the reason you reached a status that was once so unattainable - and now you claim to be done with him?

Jungkook’s body begins to spasm as he feels an intense pain all over it. He falls to his knees, a few hands on him forcing his arms behind his back. Your voice lingers in the back of his head as he’s dragged out of the room and down the hall towards his own holding cell.

You take a few deep breaths as the interviewer requests a brief commercial break. You were a bundle of nerves, but you were used to being on the camera, just not the one being interviewed.

“You got this.” Jimin smiles at you, handing you a bottle of water. “You look so…”

“Nervous? Scared out of my mind?” you joke, unscrewing the water bottle. “I know Jungkook is going to see this interview.” If he hasn’t already. 

“I’m sure he will. He is sitting in a prison with nothing else to do.” Jimin snorts. 

You begin to chug the water nervously, your throat feeling utterly parched after having been interviewed on Live television. 

“I know you think it’s crazy for me to feel this way.” you lick your lips as you finish the water bottle entirely. “But you know how Jungkook’s followers are. What if-”

“They won’t.” Jimin places a hand onto your shoulder. “You’ve moved into a gated community and a safer environment overall. Stop worrying yourself.”

It was easier said than done as day by day, you received countless phone calls from Jungkook - all of which you declined. You had not returned to the prison as your work was done and you decided to wash your hands clean of the man. 

The phone calls never stopped - not until you changed your number. It was a decision that would be utterly annoying - having to give your number to the right people and change everything around with emails and personal security, but it was a breath of fresh air.

Only for a moment, as Jungkook was always determined to make your life a living Hell.

The first letter you received you had not known it was from Jungkook - not until you read it and immediately recognized the handwriting. 

You had thrown it away immediately.

The letters came - almost daily. You had decided to install cameras to see who was placing these letters onto your door, and coincidentally, they had stopped and instead were placed right into your mailbox.

Each letter received became more and more aggressive, detailing how pissed he was that you used him and tossed him aside as if he was nothing.

“I made you what you are today.”

“You’d be nothing without me.”

“You are just as bad as me exploiting the lives of innocent people.”

That last statement stung, causing your heart to ache, but even then you had not bothered to return to the prison and face Jungkook like he had asked you to. 

The police were useless - stating that there was nothing they could do seeing as Jungkook had not sent them to you directly and instead, through a third party. 

“I can’t keep dealing with this.” you say to Jimin one afternoon, eyes dark due to exhaustion from lack of sleep. You always swore you saw things at night - maybe it was the paranoia getting to you. You always see Jungkook lurking in the shadows when you are seconds from falling asleep.

“I can’t eat Jimin. I can’t sleep….I can barely get out of bed.” you murmur, legs shaking with anxiety as your eyes dance around. “I know he isn’t there but…someone is. Someone is always watching me.” you continue. “They know where I live and what’s stopping them from-”

“They would have already, Y/N.” Jimin interrupts, shaking his head. “Just…try to relax. This is what Jungkook wants to happen. He wants to drive you insane so you’d end up where he’s at.”

You swallow back a response. 

“Have you talked to anyone about this besides me? Maybe you should see a therapist?” Jimin suggests. “You’ve endured a lot, Y/N. You were face to face with a serial killer who’s hell bent on dragging you down. It’s not going to be an easy ride.” Jimin furrows his brows. “I can schedule you an appointment.”

“I haven’t left my house in months, Jimin.” you scoff - ever since you received drawings from Jungkook. They were of you wearing a particular outfit you had worn to a trip to the store. Now, all of your interviews are done from your own home. It was a blessing that the interview with Jungkook had garnered you an insane amount of money - but a curse that now you could barely manage to leave your home without wondering if you’re being watched. 

“I can have someone come to you.” Jimin waves his hand.

“No.” you shake your head hastily. “I-I-”

“I’ll be here.” Jimin interjects. “I can sit with you or I can sit right outside the room. Trust me, Y/N…” Jimin has never seen you like this before. You weren’t sleeping and barely eating. You were stressed and full of anxious nerves. You haven’t gone outside in months, and if you had it was only to your front door. “...if it doesn’t work out, then you don’t have to talk to her again.”

This is how you found yourself currently, sitting in your large living room where Jimin sat not too far away. A therapist he recommended, an older woman with cat-like glasses stares back at you. She seems kind, you think. 

“Please, take all the time you  need to think about the question.” she says and in your mind, a clock is clicking over and over again.

“I…I’m not sure.” you admit. “I know he’s never going to be released from jail but…I know he’s having me followed and watched.”

The woman nods her head slowly, listening closely. 

“It’s crazy to think that I was less frightened when he was just the Beast of Busan. Nothing but an entity without a face.” you snort at yourself, withering in self-pity. “But now that he’s incarcerated, it’s like…he owns me.”

“Your feelings are valid, Y/N.”

“Are they?” you asked truthfully. “I…I feel like I shouldn’t be terrified for my life because I’m not an actual victim of his.”

“Why do you believe you are not?” your therapist questions with a raised brow. “You are being threatened constantly by him.”

You nod slowly - but she doesn’t know what Jungkook has told you many months ago concerning his threats. Jungkook had admitted to not wishing to kill you, yes - but it was a matter of time until he did something to cause you harm. You’re positive his initial thoughts of leaving you unharmed has since disappeared. 

“I understand but…physically, I’m alright.” 

Your therapist tilts her head. 

“Mentally?” she questions. “Emotionally? Spiritually…?”

“Drained.” you murmur.

“Infection.” 

Jungkook turns his eyes towards the faint sound, his body feeling utterly exhausted. His throat was dry and he longed for water. 

“You’re awake.”

Jungkook’s eyes are the nurse, a petite woman that checks the IV connected to his arm.

“You must be thirsty.” the nurse murmurs, a bloody tint to her cheeks when Jungkook’s bat’s his long lashes at her.

“How long?” Jungkook’s voice is hoarse. “...you said infection.” he goes to move his wrist, just to find that they are bound to the hospital bed. His eyelids blink a few more times, now realizing that he did not recognize where he was at.

“For a few days.” the nurse struggles, putting down her clipboard. “You were transported here after passing out.”

Jungkook swallows thickly, his throat aching. His lips were as dry as his throat, and as his tongue coats them he can feel the cracks against it.

“I have to pee.” Jungkook’s voice continues.

The nurse widens her eyes slightly. “I-I…”

“Please.” Jungkook begs, panting. He sits up on the hospital bed, his body heavy. 

Maybe it’s the way Jungkook looks so disheveled and in a great amount of pain that the nurse slowly nods her head. She doesn’t find any red flags in doing what she does next. She assists Jungkook up, having him lean against the bed as she manages to unbind his wrists from the bed.

“Thank you.” Jungkook murmurs as he enters the bathroom connected to the hospital room. He closes the door behind him as the lights flicker on.

Jungkook looks into the mirror, dark bags underneath his eyes. He closes them for a bit as he takes a long, deep breath.

Jungkook’s mind flashes with images of you and instantly, his blood begins to boil. Even if it's been a year since your live interview, it’s all he can think of in his mind. He shakes his head, scoffing to himself at your audacity - something he could never get over.

“Are you alright in there?”

The nurse knocks onto the door after about 10 minutes, her head pumping. The hospital is quiet and the eerie silence startles her; a complete unsettling feeling.

Jungkook turns on the water and begins to wash his hands, his eyes never leaving his reflection.

“I’m sorry.” 

Jungkook murmurs once he opens the bathroom door. He has a bit of a limp, notices the nurse. 

“My body is so…heavy.” Jungkook swallows once more. “Can I get some water, please?”

The nurse slowly nods her head. Jungkook eyes the way her frame slightly trembles as he steps closer to her, an obviously frightened look in her eyes as she knew who he was and what he is capable of.

“It’s amazing how you can even be standing up. You’re under so much…” the nurse trails off, swallowing. There’s already a large jug of water on the rolling cart that's full of water. It’s warm now, all the ice having melted, but it’s water nonetheless. “H-Here.” she says, delicate hands going to grab the jug to hand it to the man.

Jungkook takes the jug in his hands with a nod of his head. He places it upon his lips and instantly moans when the water touches his tongue. He possibly appears like a caveman, downing the water without any manners.

The nurse watches closely as a trail of water slides down the corners of Jungkook’s lips, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallows the water, completely dehydrated.

“Thank you.”

Jungkook exhales. His eyes roam around the dim-lit hospital room. The blinds upon the large window are drawn and it’s dark, possibly early morning. He doesn’t have a clock in here to see exactly what time it is.

“You said…there was an infection?” Jungkook questions the nurse, holding out the jug of water for her to take. 

“Yes.” the nurse nods, taking the jug in her hands and placing it onto the cart. “I can get you more water in a moment.”

“That would be amazing.” Jungkook slowly cracks a smile. “Where am I? Am I still in Gyeongju?”

The nurse shakes her head. “No, you were transported to Ulsan.” she responds. 

Ulsan. Jungkook hums - he wasn’t far from Busan; meaning he wasn’t far from you. 

“Please lay down.” the nurse speaks suddenly. “I have to put these cuffs back onto you.”

Jungkook blinks, then slowly nods his head. “Yeah. You do.”

 Jungkook goes to sit down on his hospital bed. He had a bit of a limp, but nothing too major. He just needed to walk around more to regain the strength back onto his legs. 

“Thank you so much.” Jungkook lifts his left arm up so the nurse can place the cuffs upon them. “You…are very kind. You must love what you do here.”

The door to the room opens and in comes a doctor, who stops dead in his tracks as he eyes the way the nurse has the cuffs in her hands. She’s startled, and within a few seconds, Jungkook jumps up and wraps an arm around her neck.

“Close the door gently.” Jungkook demands, his voice sinisterly low. His eyes glare at the doctor, the nurse’s neck held roughly between his arms. 

“Why did you uncuff him?” the doctor seethes at the nurse, closing the door behind him. “Do you not know who he is?”

“Jeon Jungkook. The Beast of Busan.” Jungkook chuckles with a shake of his head. “Take your clothes off.”

“You…don’t have to do this.” the doctor raises his hands. “You’re not going to get far-”

Jungkook pushes the nurse in front of him. She cries out when her hair is yanked.

“I will kill her right now!” Jungkook hisses. “Take your fucking clothes off.”

The nurse's arms reach back to tug away Jungkook’s hands from her hair, hot tears falling down her cheeks.

“Okay, okay…” the doctor swallows thickly, pulling off his white coat first. “Don’t hurt her, okay? I’m doing what you ask.”

The doctor's dress pants are next, a shiver running through his body as he does this. How embarrassing this was - and how angered he felt for the naivety of one of his nurses. 

“Pass them to me.” Jungkook instructs. “Gently.”

The doctor gatherers his clothing and begins to walk towards Jungkook. Without much warning, Jungkook slams the nurse aside, her body hitting one of the monitors. Jungkook moves quickly in grabbing the doctor by his neck next, slamming his head down onto the ground.

In horror, the nurse begins to cry even harder, a hand clasping down onto her lips. Her tears are blurring her vision, and she could only hear the way the doctors head slams against the white floor over and over again until Jungkook was satisfied.

“Stop all that fucking crying.” Jungkook hisses, throwing the doctor to the side for a moment. “I haven’t put my hands on you enough to be crying. Get up.”

“N-No, no, please-”

“I said get up!” Jungkook hisses, getting to his feet to yank the poor woman to her feet. He pushes her towards the now dead doctor, blood oozing all over the floor. “Clean the blood up.” he instructs.

Jungkook didn’t have time to waste. He grasps the doctor and places him onto the bed, covering him with the thin sheets. It was a matter of time before someone - anyone - would find out he wasn’t here, and he planned to be long gone before then. 

“I’m not going to kill you.”

The nurse’s crying hasn’t stopped, her trembling hands cleaning up the stained blood the best she could. Jungkook had closed the blinds as he dressed in the doctor's garments. He wanted the room to be as dark as possible.

“You’re the reason why I’m getting out of here. Your life can be spared.” Jungkook explains, placing on the dress shoes and tying them tightly. “But, if you don’t listen, that doesn’t mean I won’t hurt you.”

“I won’t tell anyone.” the nurse cries.

“Do you have a car?” Jungkook questions. “We need to get out of here.”

“W…We?”

Jungkook wants to laugh at the look upon her face. He had managed to place a mask over his lips.

“You’re not staying here.” Jungkook quips, amused. “I need you to walk me out of here and to your car.”

“Where…please I-I can’t-”

“Get the fuck up.” Jungkook’s demeanor changes once more, his patience running thin. He’s unsure where the officers are at, and he needs someone familiar with the hospital to show him  around. “Take me to your car…or any fucking car now. Make a scene, and I’ll have no choice but to kill you.” Jungkook says. “I don’t want to do that. You look so young…”

Jungkook places a tattooed hand onto the woman's head, patting her gently. “...a long life ahead of you. Just listen, and it’ll be over sooner than later.”

“You think it’s all over?”

It’s a question you ask yourself. A few months prior, the phone calls, gifts and letters all stopped - and the dreadful feeling you once felt at being watched slowly subsided. You actually felt like you could leave your home again - but you always remained cautious.

Your security cameras haven’t picked up any movement like you usually had; how Jungkook’s followers managed to hide within the shadows was beyond you.

You felt as if you could finally breathe the fresh air of freedom once more. Your therapy sessions worked and you could only thank Jimin for that.

Some people in the public didn’t like you for obvious reasons. They called you a sellout for interviewing Jungkook, but you couldn’t dwell on those who didn’t like you. The victims' families weren’t upset with you for sharing their fallen loved one stories, and that’s all you could focus on.

“I hope so.” you murmur over the phone to Jimin. “I haven’t heard anything about him and I’m glad.”

The night is quiet and moonless, and it goes just about the same as it usually does. Jimin checks in on you, and he and you share a conversation. It varies, usually being about an hour before he bids you a goodnight.

Tonight was no different, you having placed your phone right on your nightstand and laying yourself against your cool pillow. You release a sigh, eyes instantly feeling heavy. You enjoyed sleeping to white noise as it relaxed you, the total silence that would be in your room had an eerie feeling you never enjoyed.

Jungkook didn’t hate you like he should - like he thought he would’ve when his eyes fall upon you. However, he doesn’t. He cannot bring himself to.

Jungkook understands that for the last few months leading up to the year of him being incarcerated, you had ultimately betrayed him. To think he, Jeon Jungkook, also known as the Beast of Busan, had given you a platform. You, a reporter who wasn’t respected in your field of work. Your fellow reporters looked down upon you just because you were a woman in a field dominated by the opposite sex.

Jungkook had killed them off, deciding that he would test you. You had passed his test and he did what he sought out to do - cause more chaos. Maybe that’s what attracted him to you. The fact that you weren’t afraid of him. It amused him no doubt, the way you continued to report on his day by day without any fear in your eyes. 

While reporters continued to drop dead just by reporting on Jungkook, the more certain reporters quit their jobs. Except you. Certain news outlets didn’t wish to report on him. Magazines, radios. Bravery such as this was only a dime a dozen; you captivated him.

Of course,  you were brave, but dumb. Jungkook had allowed you to get a million dollar interview with him. An interview that would make you millions and gain the same amount of notoriety, and even then you decided to betray him.

“Y/N and I are soulmates, you know?”  Jungkook had spoken to the nurse while he drove down the dark road, bright headlights beaming. “You don’t think I’m wrong, right? I have the right to be upset with her.”

Jungkook takes a step closer to you. Your sleeping figure lays on your right side, an arm underneath your head. 

“No…”

“Don’t just say that because you’re scared.” Jungkook groans with a roll of his eyes. “I gave Y/N everything! She betrayed me. She…she left me. After she promised she wouldn’t!”

Only half of your body is beneath the comforter, a trait you had once in a deep sleep. Your arms are exposed. With his tattooed hand, Jungkook, ever so gently, traces up your arms. He lightly taps, tilting his head as you stir a bit, but don’t quite wake up.

You hum audibly, your body causing a shiver to run up your spine and throughout your entire body. You feel the skin on your arm raise, your eyes not yet opening.

“Ji…min…?” you murmur, feeling light taps onto your arm. You’re unsure why you spoke Jimin’s name first, as he would not have entered your home unannounced; even if you had given him the key.

Your eyes slowly open, the white noise in the background finally reaching your ears once more as you begin to regain consciousness. Your eyes blink a few times to focus on the figure before you, your room not completely dark as you once enjoyed it to be in the past.

“You’re awake.” Your body stiffens while your heartbeat begins to quicken. That familiar voice startles you, causing you to go into complete shock.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Jungkook begins to chuckle, pulling his hand away from your arm as he watches you in complete amusement.

Your body suddenly jolts yourself away from the man as if he burned you. Your body falls completely off of your bed and it’s harder to see him now, but you cannot bring yourself to care right now. You’re in fight or flight mode - and there was no way you could fight Jungkook.

Your mind had to be playing tricks upon you, as Jungkook was locked away for life. There was no reason whatsoever for him to be out and before you. This had to be a dream; a nightmare. You were still asleep and desperately needed to wake up.

“You’re afraid.” 

Jungkook’s voice is closer, as are his footsteps increasing towards you. 

“N-No…!”

You try to crawl away, but there’s a sudden hold onto your ankle that drags you back.

You release a sudden scream that comes deep within your throat, your mind now screaming along with you that this was real. Jungkook was actually here - right in your home.

“Stop acting like that.”

Jungkook, no matter how amusing he finds you to be, is growing irritated with your actions.

“I’ve never hurt you before. You don’t have a reason to be frightened!”

You’re pushed onto your back harshly, Jungkook above you. His face is too close for comfort and instantly, you turn yours away.

“I gave you everything…” 

Jungkook’s tone lowers from his loud, abrasive one. He lowers it now, talking directly to you instead of at you.

Jungkook's voice sounds…hurt.

“I gave you everything…and yet you betray me.” Jungkooks teeth grits. “I gave you a fucking platform to exploit me and the victims you pretend to care about.”

“You didn’t give me anything.” you find your own voice to speak. It’s low compared to his, and lacking any confidence.

“No…?” Jungkook scoffs in near disbelief. “No!” he then screams, echoing off of your wall. “You’d be nothing but a bitch on the sidelines if it wasn’t for me!”

Jungkook pushes you away, your head hitting the tiled ground abruptly.

“Reporter Lee would’ve taken all of your shine! You stupid,” Jungkook places two fingers, index and middle, onto your cheek and pokes you as if you’re a child. “stupid, stupid girl! I’m the one that allowed you to make millions off of my story!”

Your cheek begins to throb with how rough Jungkook was being. You squirm beneath him.

“And for what? For you to betray me?” Jungkook laughs bitterly. “I never spoke to anyone else. I’ve kept quiet this entire time!” he hisses. “I was loyal to you and you betrayed me.”

Jungkook pushes himself away from you. He needed to relax himself before he did something he’d regret. He inhales deeply before exhaling, counting to ten in his mind.

You raise a shaky hand to your cheek and hold it a bit, your eyes swelling with tears. You let out a shaky breath after a few moments.

“Am I not good enough for you?”

You knit your brows at Jungkook’s words, your tears now falling. You want to run as far as you can go, but you're paralyzed to your bedroom floor. 

“I would’ve stayed in prison if you would’ve come back.”

You hear shuffling.

“I wouldn’t have murdered the doctor or security guard.”

Your heart begins to pound even louder as he admits to murder. Your mind is racing with countless questions that you have. How had Jungkook escaped? How many people has he slain just to get to you? Did he work alone?

“I wouldn’t have kidnapped that naive nurse and-” Jungkook stops speaking abruptly just as you feel your nightgown being tugged harshly, yanking you up from your fetal position. “-I wouldn’t be here.”

Your tears fall down your cheeks as you squeeze them shut, an attempt to rid yourself of Jungkook. You recall doing this at any given situation when you were a child; rid yourself of the boogeyman.

“What have I done to you personally Y/N?” Jungkook questions, grasping your jaw between his fingers to force you to look at him. “Look at me. Answer my question.”

Your eyes blink open, more tears pooling out almost instantly. You shake your head to get away from Jungkook, your mouth parting open to release a few whimpers.

“I never hurt you, didn’t I? I never hurt anyone you love.” Jungkook shakes you slightly, as if to get right through you. “I allowed you to live a good life, right? I gave you a story and you ran with it. Look at where you live!”

“Please stop.” you cry out. “You can’t be here, Jungkook-”

“You’re right.” 

Jungkook doesn’t move, deeply inhaling. 

“You can’t be here, either. Get up.”

You’re stunned for a moment, swallow that thick lump in your throat as Jungkook gets onto his feet. 

“I said get up.” Jungkook grits as though he’s speaking to a child. “Grab some clothes.”

You shake your head ever so slowly,  your eyes widening. “I’m not leaving with you, Jungkook.” you whisper out. “You need help…”

Your hands are shaking as you lift them up, reaching for him. 

“Y-You need help and…I can’t go with you to-”

“The only way I’m leaving without you is if you’re dead.” Jungkook deadpans.

The crazed look in Jungkook’s eyes frightens you to your core, your hand immediately falling to your lap as another single tear drops from your eye.

“I don’t want to kill you, Y/N. You and I,” Jungkook points to himself then to you. “were meant to be together. For months I poisoned myself enough to get an infection. Dangerous enough that they had to transport me outside of the prison.”

Jungkook’s words cause you to gasp.

“I laid for who knows how long planning my escape and finally…finally I did it.” Jungkook’s lips curve upwards. There's no doubt that Jungkook is insane, a serial killer. Someone who could kill so easily and effortlessly without any remorse isn’t someone you wish to be with. His face is handsome, and you ponder just how someone like someone could be such a heinous individual.

“Get up. Grab some clothes and let’s go.” Jungkook murmurs. 

Your body feels heavy as you lift yourself to your feet. Jungkook’s beady eyes watch you, the dimness of your room adding a level of suspense that has your skin crawling.

You can’t go with Jungkook.

You can’t allow yourself to leave without a fight.

Your body acts on its own, turning around to sprint across your room to your bedroom door, prying it open and going down the hallway to wherever; as long as it was away from Jungkook.

Heavy footsteps follow behind you, but you cannot bring yourself to look behind you at the boogeyman hot on your trail.

The nurse is horrified, her own heart pounding when your screaming figure bursts through the living room. Her legs are up to her chest, seated upon your leather couch. She screams herself when your body collides with your glass coffee table. The forcefulness of it causes it to shatter.

Glass pierces into your skin. You feel the glass scrape across your skin as your ankles are being dragged backwards, your throat releasing the most bloodcurdling scream you’ve ever produced.

“Why don’t you listen, Y/N?!” Jungkook roars above you, his hands managing to stop your feet from kicking him. “Why do you force me to put my hands on you?!”

“D-Dont hurt her…!” the nurse cries, finally speaking up when Jungkook’s hands wrap around your neck, his body weight on top of yours. “...please, please…”

She’s unsure of what to do herself, her body completely paralyzed. She had followed Jungkook into your home with a guilty conscience and stayed out of pure fear, unsure of what to do.

Your lungs heave when air fills them again. You begin to cough. Jungkook releases your neck and pushes you away.

“Go in the room.” Jungkook says to the nurse. “Pack some of her clothes. Be quick. We’re leaving.”

The nurse, still paralyzed, looks between your heaving figure and Jungkook.

“Now!” Jungkook snaps.

It takes entirely too long for Jungkook’s liking. He didn’t enjoy manhandling you - he adores you. You, however, don’t listen. You never did so he cannot fully put you at fault. You were a stubborn woman and that’s what Jungkook loves about you. Even him, someone capable of harming you, you put up a fight against. Your courageousness excites him.

“W-Where…are we going?” the nurse asks after hours of driving. You had laid in the back of the car, fighting with nothing but will to keep yourself away. Jungkook had forced a pill into your mouth, obviously one of your sleeping pills he’s found in the cabinet. 

“We?” Jungkook asks, the sun slowly beginning to rise. “You can’t come with us.”

The nurse feels her heart jump.

“I’ll have to drop you off somewhere.” Jungkook murmurs, his eyes roaming around the lonely street. “A store. Gas station.”  he says. “I don’t expect you to not tell on me. But, by then…” He will be far gone.

“You want to be a victim so bad, Y/N.”

Your heart races in your chest as you run as fast as your body could away from the man. It did you no justice. Your body ached, covered in bruises and scratch marks. You felt entirely too groggily, your head pounding and eyes wishing they could close to sleep.

“Look at you.” Jungkook tsk’s with a shake of his head when you stumble and crash right on your ass like he knew you would. Your will can only get you as far as your body was willing to go. “Come lay down-”

Your leg jerks and your foot sends a powerful kick his way - one he catches. Impatient hands wrap around your ankle and Jungkook drags you. You begin to scream, arms flailing around for something - anything - you can get your hands on. The hardwood floor creaks beneath you and Jungkook’s struggling.

You weren’t sure how long you had been out - but it was long enough to know that you were far from home and where you laid, you had no recollection of. Fear struck you like lightning as your mind replayed the events like a bad dream - and it was confirmed when you turned yourself over on the bed you laid in and saw him.

Jungkook is stronger than you, of course, and he wasn’t going to keep tolerating your bad behavior. His hands are quick in grabbing you by your shirt and yanking you up onto your feet. He’s entirely too rough for his own liking. He slams your body against the wall, him directly behind you. He hates having to show the side of him that he shows everyone else. He doesn’t want to show you the Beast of Busan, but you refused to accept Jungkook. “You must be hungry.”

“Let me go.”

“You’re going to try to run again.” Jungkook snorts. Both of your hands are behind your back and your cheek is against the cold wall. “Your wounds are still fresh.”

You let out a short breath. “Because of you…”

“I know.” Jungkook loosens his grip on your wrists, but he doesn’t remove his body from you. He didn’t want to keep chasing you. “I apologize, but what do you expect me to do? I gave you strict orders and you disobeyed me.”

You sniffle a bit. You bite the inside of your cheek and remain silent. There wasn’t a point in trying to flee or fight Jungkook - that would leave you in a terrible position once more. Your body aches while your stomach rumbles in hunger. You were exhausted even after being unconscious for who knows how long.

“How about we talk?”  you ask meekly after a few moments of unmoving silence. 

“Of course.” Jungkook says, pushing his body away from your own. Your body shivers on its own once his warmth is no longer radiating off of you. “I’ve cooked-”

“Jungkook, please.” you say, turning around to face the man. “You can’t…you can’t be here.”

Jungkook tilts his head a bit, a small grin on his lips. “Of course I can,” he responds. “we’re here aren’t we?”

You blink.

“You are supposed to be in prison.” you murmur softly. Maybe if you attempted to speak with him then this would be easier. “You know that, right?”

“Of course I know that, Y/N. I’m not an idiot.” Jungkook chuckles. You look away from his face. You always hated looking at Jungkook because of how handsome the man was. “It’s your fault we’re in this predicament in the first place. Take accountability.”

Anger shoots through you rabidly and you want to scream at him, but you don’t. Jungkook is calm now and that’s how you need him to be.

“You promised to visit me. You used me for content that was my idea and threw me aside like I meant nothing to you.”

Jungkook’s hand reaches for your face and your body flinches. There’s a cut right on your cheek that he wishes wasn’t there. It was caused by the impact of your coffee table. His thumb rubs along it gently and he sighs. “You talked about me as if I was the scum of the Earth in that interview, Y/N.” he says softly. “It hurts my feelings.”

You turn your head away to remove Jungkook’s hand from your cheek. “You’re a murderer, Jungkook.” you spat out. “You…”

“Yet you’re alive.” Jungkook quips, this time snatching your chin and forcing you to look at him. “So is that nurse. I’ve matured while incarcerated, Y/N. I don’t kill unnecessarily anymore.” 

“What do you want, Jungkook?”

It’s a question that you’ve pondered the entire time, but was far too afraid to truly ask. How long had he been planning this? How far did he think this was going to go? Surely someone would realize that you were missing and connect the dots that you were either, A) missing alongside an escaped prisoner or B) dead due to the escaped prisoner.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Jungkook laughs a boyish laugh that would be cute if it was anyone else besides him. Someone normal. “I want you, Y/N.”

A few silent seconds go by.

“You can’t have me, Jungkook.” you try to say as softly and monotone-like as possible to not set him off. “You…know that. We need to get you back to-”

Jungkook’s nails dig into your skin and you gasp at how suddenly his mood changes. Your head is shoved right back into the wall and your eyes widen as the innocent smile wipes from his lips.

“I could kill you right now and no one will know where you’re at Y/N.”

Jungkook’s words cause you to stiffen right in his grasp. Your heart races in your chest so fast that it’s concerning.

“I can kill both of us.” Jungkook shrugs. “Would you like that? You acted so holier than thou in that interview. I can see the headlines now about how your heroic sacrifice stopped the Beast of Busan.”

Hands grip at your through and you immediately let out a whimper. Jungkook hadn’t attempted to squeeze in the slightest, only touched, but it was enough for you to cower. He takes a deep breath and shakes his head.

“I don’t want to hurt you, baby.”

Once more, Jungkook’s demeanor changes. His forehead places itself onto yours. 

“Why can’t you just listen to me?” Jungkook asks, his voice eerily soft. “I’ve fought so hard to get us here. We have a house and our own land. We have food and…” he trails off.

You don’t speak. Neither does Jungkook.

You stand there for what appears to be hours. You had to get your heart under control and you didn’t want Jungkook’s mood to change for the worse. However, you had questions that you needed answered before your head exploded.

“Where are we?”

Jungkook’s ear perked at your sudden voice. He lifts his head to look at you, tilting it a bit.

“Far from Busan.” Jungkook answers. “You won’t find your way around here even if you’ve tried, Y/N. I’d advise you not to leave the house without me.”

Fear sores through you once more and you swallow thickly. The look in Jungkook’s eyes is completely insane.

“Did you…kill someone for this home?”

Jungkook shakes his head,  doe-like eyes widening. “Of course not. I wouldn’t have us live on tainted land, Y/N.” he says with a chuckle. “It belongs to a friend.”

You wanted to ask how a serial killer had friends, yet refrain. Jungkook had followers. He had people who would send him countless letters - women who adored him and men who idolized him. It was terrible to think that someone who had no remorse for the crimes he committed could be put on a pedestal. As if he was some sort of God.

“How long do you expect for this to go on, Jungkook?” 

There was no way this was going to last long. Someone would come looking - or maybe it was something you were hoping for.

Jungkook grins once more. He wouldn’t tell you - not now at least - that there were options he was considering. For one, he could do this forever. Jump from countryside to countryside with you by his side with the help of his friends (or followers - whatever you wanted to call them). Or, he could do what he feels would be a bit more effective. Drag you alongside him until he decides he was done. 

That could be a week from now - or five years. Who truly knows?

“You hate me, Y/N.” Jungkook states. “That look in your eyes…pure disgust. But, it’ll change.” he says, determined. “After all, only you will know the real me. Jeon Jungkook.” he murmurs his name. “Not the Beast of Busan with blood on his hands. Now, let’s eat.”

Jungkook was correct - the house remained right in the middle of nowhere. Tall trees surround the entirety of the home that appeared to lead to nowhere. The sight appeared to be right out of a horror movie - especially at night. You refused to look outside as the dark often frightened you, an ironic feeling seeing as your nightmares remained right in the house with you.

Jungkook is many things.

A monster.

A murderer.

A psycho.

Jungkook is also an amazing cook. On your first few nights, you refused to eat. Not because you thought it would be poisoned. If Jungkook wanted you dead, poison would be the last thing on his mind. But simply because you wanted to defy him.

That, however, didn’t last long. As much as Jungkook adored you, if you wanted to be stubborn he was going to let you learn the hard way. On the fifth day, you gave up and ate the food, your tastebuds dancing. 

Jungkook is also surprisingly clean. He cleaned the home often - dusting and mopping occasionally. He washed yours and his clothing that always left a fresh linen scent on it that drove you crazy by how well it smelt. 

Jungkook, as you learned, was even a good singer. That act surprised you. He took up singing whenever he was busy cooking or cleaning. The melodic tune in his voice had drawn you in as if he was a siren or bard. It even angered you that you enjoyed the sound of his voice because this wasn’t normal. Serial killers didn’t sound like this.

Jeon Jungkook did, however.

Your eyes begin to flutter open and it’s right now you realize just how your body is.

That, and the obvious arm around your waist keeping you close.

You counted everyday you’ve been alongside Jungkook and each day you attempted a little harder to leave - all of which had failed. The first week was when Jungkook slept alongside you and since then, had not bothered to sleep elsewhere. You never went to sleep in his arms but somehow always woke up in them.

“Morning.”

You don’t move, swallowing a bit. 

Jungkook snuggles against you and inhales your scent - something he enjoys doing. You smell of lavender and vanilla and it’s a scent that he finds calming.

“Hey.” you say back quietly. You begin to squirm in his embrace. You didn’t want to be in Jungkook’s arms, a sullen feeling going through you. Not because it made you uncomfortable like you wanted it to. But because you found that his warm embrace was inviting. His own scent calmed you at times and his arms made you feel welcomed. Feelings that shouldn’t be associated with a murderer - you didn’t want to confide in Jungkook. You didn’t want to enjoy him in the slightest.

“You smell nice.”

You attempt to move away from Jungkook once more, but like before he holds you even tighter. Your back is against his chest and his arms tightens. 

“Why do you keep trying to get away from me?”

Jungkook’s breath tickles against your neck and it causes your skin to prickle with goosebumps.

“We shouldn’t be in this position.”

Jungkook hums. “Why not?”

Why not? Did you have to remind him that his actions are far from sane? Breaking out of prison, taking a nurse and you hostage and murdering whoever needed to be along the way. You lived in the middle of nowhere; who knows how far away from Busan you were. 

“We’re not…” Jungkook’s mood swings were unpredictable at times, but you managed to keep it going. If you did what he said, you would hope eventually he’d find the right mind to allow you to leave - even if it meant that he would keep running from the law. “...I need to go back home, Jungkook. I can’t stay here forever.”

Slow and steady, you think. Don’t be too forward or he might snap.

“Why would you go anywhere?” Jungkook’s lips are soft when they rub against you. Once more, you stiffen. You feel him against you, his bulge right against your own ass and you want to scream. “Don’t you like it here?”

No, you think. “I do.” you murmur, a bit of a lie. The home itself was beautiful and the entire land around you was a sight to see. However, not with Jungkook. “I just…have a life back in Busan.”

“Most people hate you and I.”

Jungkook’s words are blunt. His arm loosens around you so that his hand, as bold as his hips, places right on top of your clothed breast. The shirt you wore was the only coverage you had for him to not cop a complete feel.

“For every five people that like you, there’s 10 that also hate you.” Jungkook continues cooly. “Most of them are happy you’re gone. Why go back to them?”

Jungkook’s words sting and you understood it was because it was true. You did have a handful of people that despise you just because of Jungkook. You’ve read articles, against Jimin’s judgement, and saw just how many people hated you because of you choosing to platform Jungkook. Even if you did give his victims a story to tell and donate a massive amount of money to said victims' families, you were still looked at as less than.

It didn’t help that out of all the reporters, you were left alive. Theories were going around that you and Jungkook were something more - and that was the last thing you wanted to be true.

“You have a home over your head. Food, necessities, clothing.” Jungkook continues. “The air is fresher here than in Busan, too. You know that, right?” he continues, his palm lightly squeezing your breast over your shirt. You yelp to yourself at the sudden action. 

“Jungkook-”

Jungkook ruts his hips once more, squeezing your breast again. You can hear his breathing increasing from behind you.

“You don’t like being with me is what you’re saying?”

Jungkook snakes his hand beneath your shirt. It causes you to jolt a bit when his hand touches against your bare skin. It slides up the curve of your hip before sliding past your stomach.

“Are you still afraid of me, Y/N?”

Jungkook’s fingers tap against your skin teasingly. His voice appears deeper, more huskier, when he speaks. His hips rock against you, the bulge growing even harder when his hand touches your bare breast. 

“Yes.” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re afraid of me?” Jungkook repeats, his large palm squeezing your breast while your mind screams at you to fight him. To push him away in purse disgust - to remind yourself that this was a murderer. A cold blooded killer who took you away from your home. “I haven’t hurt you. Has your time with me been that bad?”

Jungkook doesn’t let the moan you let out go past his ears. His thumb and index finger pinches your nipple lightly, his lips pressing on the nape of your neck.

“P-Please stop.”

Jungkook doesn’t listen to you. The way your ass feels against him is euphoric. He’s waited to be able to touch you like this - to feel your breast in his palm. To smell the scent on your skin and those soft moans coming from your lips.

Maybe it was also the way you didn’t fight him like you had from the beginning.

“Do you not feel good?”

Jungkook is quick, removing his hand from your breast to grip your neck gently. He turns your head so that you’re facing him. He’s now hovering a bit above you, his dark eyes looking right through yours.

“It does.” Jungkook states, voice a whisper. “I see the look in your eye.”

Your mind continues to scream for you to move, but your body remains perfectly still.

Where would you go if you fought him?

How far would you be able to go before Jungkook dragged you back?

“It’s okay to…like me.” Jungkook disclosed. He licks his lips, pink tongue coating his lips in such a suave matter. “It’s okay to like how I make you feel.”

You had to swallow so you wouldn’t choke. Your heart is already pounding on your chest and you’re positive Jungkook can hear it.

“You’re not a good person.” you mumble, blinking a bit. “You’ve killed people.”

Jungkook’s thumb gently rubs along your chin. Slowly, his lips form a low grin - an arrogant one. “I never said I was a good person,” he responds. “But…you've never seen that side of me, have you?”

Damn him, you think. You didn’t need to see that side for you to know, yet you felt betrayed. What your mind is warning you, your body is betraying.

Jungkook leans down a bit, his nose lightly rubbing against yours. The action is far too intimate for your liking. 

“I promised you’d never see that side of me. If you were truly scared, Y/N, why haven’t you pushed me away yet.”

Jungkook could read you. You may have a bit of hesitance towards him as that was your right. Yet, you didn’t fight him like you did initially. You listened to him now. You ate alongside him. You allowed him to hold you at night.

“It’s because you like what I do, Y/N.” Jungkook murmurs and without hesitance, presses his lips against yours. A jolt of electricity flows through you at the kiss.

Jungkook deepens the kiss, his hand roaming down inside of your shirt once more so he could grip  your breast. He rubs it in his palm, his hips continuing to rut against you.

“You,” Jungkook breaks the kiss, his tone a mere growl. “want me to touch you like this. You’ll never admit it to me or yourself.”

Jungkook is a bit rough, but not enough to cause any true fear throughout you. You’re on your back, shirt pulled up to your neck and your breast is on display for Jungkook. He hovers above you, caging you in between his legs. 

Jungkook’s hands hook in your shorts, eyes flickering up to watch you. You don’t stop him so he proceeds to pull them down. Your panties are a solid grey cotton material. It doesn’t pass his eyes that there’s a bit of moisture right at the center of your legs.

“You sure you don’t like my touch?” Jungkook ponders aloud, his hand placing itself onto your abdomen while his thumb presses against your clothed clit. 

Your body jolts at the sensation and you bite the inside of your cheek.

“You’re very beautiful, Y/N.”

Jungkook leans down and for a moment you think he’s going to kiss your lips like before. Instead, he goes right to your breast. His tongue pokes out to lick along your nipple and immediately, it hardens.

Your mouth falls open and gasps. Your eyes widen a bit. His thumb continues to rub along your clit while he begins to suck and lit on your nipple.

“J-Jungkook-”

Possibly it was the sound of your voice saying his name that causes Jungkook to groan, his mouth wrapping your nipple entirely. There was hesitance laced in it, but yet you didn’t push him away. You hadn’t told him to stop. You were going through an internal battle of mind v.s. body and as of right now, your body was winning.

Jungkook sucks out your nipple with a pop and goes onto the next breast. His thumb increases it past, the moisture seeping through so much so that he can feel it dampen the pads of his thumb. 

Your hands grip the sheets beneath you and you squeeze your eyes shut to get the image of Jungkook ravishing your breast of your mind. It follows you, however, as his slurping doesn’t make anything easier for you. 

“I can be good for you, Y/N.”

Jungkook's teeth grazes your nipples gently and it takes everything in you not to groan.

“I can make you feel good. I know you want it.” Jungkook’s tongue licks from your breast to between them, going a bit lower until he reaches your stomach. “What are you afraid of?”

The question had to be rhetorical. The answer was right there.

Jungkook was a psycho. A murderer. He was capable of hurting you with his bare hands without as much as caring.

And even then, your body wants Jungkook to continue what he has already begun. Your skin is warm and whatever hair you had on you was rising. Your chest heaves and you cannot deny the sensation between your legs he’s causing you, either.

“W-We can’t-”

Jungkook doesn’t care. He’s tugging off your panties and dips between your legs. His teeth bite right on your inner thigh, an act of possession that catches you off guard. You don’t have time to react before his lips are on your clit. 

Your back arches fully now and Jungkook holds your legs apart to keep you in place. His head bobs back and forth, his tongue flat as he works it between your folds. He’s slurping and grunting like a starved animal.

Your eyes snap shut once more, no longer able to contain the breathy moans that come out of you. Your fingers continue to grip the sheets tightly - so tight that you think if you continue, it’ll rip right in the palms of your hands.

Your taste is sweet and Jungkook doesn’t want to stop. It feels like a dream to have you before him, submitting fully. The countless days he thought about having your pussy on his face. As you interviewed him, he pondered about slamming you against the metal table and having his way with you. He calculated that if he did, how long it’d be until the guards got you off of him.

Such melodic moans coming through his ears that Jungkook knows you wouldn’t have fought him for long. You adored his hands on you just as much as you revered the way his tongue works through your folds. 

It takes every fiber in Jungkook’s body to remove himself from your pussy and he licks his lips to regain the flavor of your arousal. His eyes are completely dark and blown and it only meant there was no stopping him now.

“I’ve waited to taste you for so long, my love. You have no idea.”

“Jung…kook,”

You are silenced when Jungkook enters his fingers in you. He coats them with saliva before he does and doesn’t waste valuable time before he’s thrusting them inside of you. Your breathing hitches and the lewd sensation is entirely too pleasurable.

“Stop!” you hiss out, your walls clenching around his fingers. 

“You don’t want me to stop, my love. You’re leaking all over me.” Jungkook chuckles darkly, going down to flicker his tongue onto your sensitive clit. 

You couldn’t give it to what your body wants, you think. You wouldn’t allow Jungkook to have control over the one thing you had left. Your body was all you had, and even now he was taking that from you.

Jungkook’s eyes watch your face contort with pleasure, the corners of your eyes swelling with tears of pleasure. His tongue continues to lap against your throbbing clit, fingers pounding deeper and deeper.

It takes everything in you, but you manage. You land a single punch to Jungkook’s head with all the strength you could muster.

Your mind is taking over now and when Jungkook stumbles away from you, you take it upon yourself to get out. Adrenaline runs through you as you run out of the room. You weren’t wearing anything but your shirt, but you couldn’t stop. It’s morning, the sun just beginning to shine throughout the home. 

Your feet slam against the hardwood floor and it creeks underneath your feet. You hear heavier footsteps right behind you, but you don’t dare look back. It’s uncomfortable to run with arousal dripping down your thighs, but you had no time.

Your hands wrap around the doorknob to the front door and you slam it open. There had to be something just behind these trees that you-

A scream bursts through your lungs. Your hands immediately go towards your hair as you’re being yanked back just as your feet meet the grassy texture.

You’re unable to catch yourself when you’re slammed backwards towards the concert steps of the home. Your naked body scratches against it and you immediately wince. 

“Why don’t you listen?!” 

Jungkook roars in your face, veins pulsing in his neck. It’s the angriest you’ve ever seen of him.

“You don’t want me to treat you with respect.” Jungkook hisses, grasping your shoulders harshly and forcing you to turn around. Your face is against the concrete. “You want me to disrespect you.”

Embarrassment flows through you when a hand harshly slams against your ass. It stings, sending shock waves throughout your entire body.

“Why can’t you just listen to me, Y/N?” Jungkook is pissed, striking you on the ass again. He shouldn’t have to do this to you. You were choosing to be difficult and in return, he had to punish you. 

Jungkook yanks your hair back and your body swings upwards and your back hits against his chest. The morning air is cool and it flows through your shirt.

“Luckily there’s no one around.” Jungkook murmurs. “Public indecency.”

Your cheek stings, throbbing with a possible scrape. 

“Is being here with me that horrible?” Jungkook questions, his grip on your hair tightening. There’s something in his voice - hurt? Was he upset at the thought of you not wanting to be around a murderer as if it shouldn’t be obvious. You were taken against your will. It isn’t as though he hadn’t forced you out of your home while unconscious.

“You don’t know how hard I’m trying.” Jungkook’s grits out. “It’s like you don’t give a damn about my hard work.”

Jungkook pushes you away. He doesn’t do it as rough as you would expect him to. His chest is rising and falling as he attempts to control his breathing and anger towards you.

You don’t want to look at Jungkook, afraid that if you do he would attack. Your body is trembling, the cool morning air not feeling the least bit good against naked skin. You wanted to curl up into a ball and be left alone.

“Get up. We’re going back in.” Jungkook takes a few moments. “You’re going to get yourself sick. How far did you think you were going to go without any clothing, Y/N?”

Adrenaline flows through you once more. When you feel Jungkook’s arms on your elbow, you swing your closed fist back and strike the man, unknowingly right in the face.

Jungkook stumbles back a bit at the impact, his right eye throbbing. You turn and face Jungkook finally, your eyes watching as he lets out a few swear words.

You, however, don’t move. You had little flight in you. Jungkook was right. You weren’t going to make it far naked and there was no way in hell he was going to let you out of his sight now that he knows you’re just going to attempt to run. 

“You’re getting bold.” Jungkook murmurs, blinking a few times to regain the sight in his eye. 

You go to attack Jungkook again, anger flowing through you. You send punches his way, majority of them he dodges or catches with his own hands. Some land on him - his neck, chest and shoulders. 

It upsets you after a few moments that Jungkook doesn’t appear as angry as before. His eyes remain dark and his face is nearly stoic, but you notice his anger subsided.

It upsets you even further. Your fingers dig into his own hair, yanking it until he falls right on top of you.

“Enough!” Jungkook hisses, pushing your body deeper against the cold and hard cement. He manages to grab hold of your arms. “You aren’t going to be satisfied until I actually hurt you.”

“You already did.” you hiss back, chest heaving.

“You’re still breathing, aren’t you?” Jungkook forces your hands down and it scraps against the ground. “I would’ve gutted you if you were anyone else!”

You are completely still beneath him, his yell echoing off of the tall trees. 

“I wanted it to come naturally, Y/N. But if you won’t comply, I’ll just force the submission out of you.” Before you could blink, Jungkook is forcing you up onto your feet. He drags you inside the home and slams the door shut behind him. He pushes you away from him and you stumble. Quickly, you swirl around to face him.

“Pick your choice, Y/N. You’re either going to listen to me or not.”

You inhale deeply.

You’re unsure what has gotten through you. Maybe it’s because Jungkook, in a way, has been lenient with you. This was a man who’s killed far too many people to count, and yet he’s allowing you to defy him until you’ve given him the answer he wants. What he’s done to you is child’s play as you understood what he’s truly capable of.

“Fuck you, Jungkook.” you hiss low, voice fully of venom.

Jungkook tilts his head a bit, watching you. 

“You’re going to have to kill me.”

“I would never.” Jungkook retorts with a scoff. “What’s gotten through to you? This self righteous act you’re portraying is cute.”

Jungkook begins to smirk as if you were a joke and it causes anger to seep through you. Without much thought, your sprint towards him once more. You attack him, punching and scratching at him like an animal. The flashes of how frightened you were of him while incarcerated go through you. The long nights of staying up because you knew people were watching you. The bloodied roses and disgusting letters all at the hands of him.

Jungkook doesn’t put up much of a fight, allowing you to attack him for nearly five minutes until he thinks you have enough. He wraps you in a tight embrace to stop your attacks. The nearest area is the living room and he throws your body right onto the loveseat. You squirm in his embrace but Jungkook doesn’t let up. “You’re so cute when you’re angry, baby.” he murmurs against the skin of your neck. “Your attacks don’t hurt me.”

Jungkook presses himself against you. “If anything, it excites me.” he murmurs right in your ear, assuring that he shows you just how excited he was. His bulge sits right on your clit, twitching with excitement. “You want to make things harder then so be it. I’m a patient man."

pick your ending...

one | two

[narcjsistx]

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐈𝐄𝐖... | sae, kaiser, rin

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!

plot: you get mentioned in one of their interviews, and he's sooo in love with you <3

— sae itoshi

That Sae didn't like interviews was a well known thing, even the journalists were a little worried when they discovered they had to interview him: although he was a prodigy, a talent never seen in years and years of soccer, he was objectively a thorn in the side, acidic and lethal in words as he was with his shots in the penalty area. All the journalists who had dealt with the Japanese prodigy could say, with absolute certainty, that a slap or being fired was less annoying

And today was no exception. ReAl had just won a very important Spanish cup, but one that Sae didn't actually know much about. They simply told him to be himself, and so he did: the result was a landslide victory against the Venezuelan team, 7-1. The match had been over for less than half an hour and he had already been surrounded by journalists, whom he had pushed away with little courtesy as he headed towards the locker room. But one journalist had insisted more than the others, and with a sigh, the boy had dedicated 5 minutes of his time to him

"Exciting victory today, isn't it? Spain had been aiming for this cup for years but they only won it when you had a place in the team" says the journalist, microphone pointed towards Sae. A man, a little further away, held a video camera on his shoulder, pointed towards them. Sae nods, turning away when he swears he hears someone call out to him in a familiar voice. The reporter continues talking, but Sae pays no attention: that voice sounded so familiar

"So that's a yes?" the reporter says, the microphone still pointed towards him. Sae doesn't even know what question he asked him, but the mere fact that he's still here trying to get information out of him bothers him. "What?" he asks raising an eyebrow, and before the reporter even says it, Sae knows it's about you

“Your girlfriend isn't here today, which is strange considering she's always present at your games, even when they're out of town” the reporter says, probably repeating the words he asked him earlier. Sae isn't even surprised by the question, he already knows what he wants to ask him and mentally thanks himself for not answering with 'yes' at the previous question "Is this a sign that you've broken up? There have been rumors for a while that the feeling between you two is over-"

"No. We have not broken up and at the moment, and even in the future, the option is not in mind for either of us" says the boy without thinking for two seconds, taking the edge of the microphone with one hand, so that his words they arrive very straight. The journalist is surprised

Today, for the first time since you've been together, you couldn't come to his game. You actually haven't seen each other in a while, at least a month, and all the speculation that you had broken up had reached Sae's ears. Everything seemed to fit, the perfect breakup after years of a perfect relationship and a wedding ring on the line that Sae had offered you months ago. Everything seemed to coincide with the end of one of the most talked about relationships of the moment

But the reality is that simply, for university reasons, you had to move to Italy for a few months. Sae often came to you, but couldn't stay for whole days due to training... and so, for just over a month, you hadn't seen each other. If the truth wasn't known, you would actually look like a couple who hated each other by now

“Would you tell us more about all the evidence that has been circulating for over a month?” asks the journalist, and the boy already knows in his mind that the interview will not end well if this damned journalist continues to be so interested in something that does not concern him

Sae sighs. He knows that, from your temporary home in Italy, you are watching him. He knows well that every word he is saying you are listening to him. And it's time to make things clear once and for all,or he thinks he's going crazy

"Y/n and I haven't broken up, it's not on our minds and wedding preparations are currently underway. I hate when people seem so interested in something that actually has nothing to do with them, but I understand that it's your job and that's why I'm holding back from going harder on it" says Sae in one breath "My future wife and I don't have anything remotely negative in mind for our relationship, so if you would do me the favor of mentioning her only when there really is a reason, I would be happy" says Sae, and the journalist is suddenly understanding why all his colleagues had told him to stay away from the Japanese prodigy "So, if you really have questions for me about my performance today, I'll try to answer. Otherwise, bye" he says, handing the microphone back to the man, who takes it completely speechless

The camera shows him leaving, hiding the journalist who is still speechless. The camera zoom focuses on the background of Sae's phone, which appears for a few seconds when the boy takes the phone while heading towards the locker room. A photo of you and him cheek to cheek stands out, a small smile breaking across the boy's face as you laugh. With only this proof alone, literally everybody could definitively say that you didn't break up

— micheal kaiser

Micheal was now used to interviews. Since he had actually become someone, someone relegated to Germany's biggest soccer club, interviews had become an everyday thing, like brushing his teeth or kicking the ball as hard as he could during training. He was good looking, he had charisma, he was definitely one of the most pleasant to interview on his team. If the interviewer was a woman he would crack a few jokes, something to make things more interesting. It was objectively flirting with them, but since you had officially become his girlfriend, he had put a stop to these things, out of respect for you

The room was well furnished, he was sitting on a sofa placed in front of the large windows, which gave a view of the great metropolis of Hamburg. You were with him, sitting behind the cameras on a chair placed there at random. He had insisted to the producers that you appear next to him during the interview, but it wasn't possible. His nose was still a little crooked knowing that they got you that beat up chair by sheer luck. You were his empress, the respect they had for him they had to give to you too, and it hadn't happened

He knew that you didn't really care that much, but your respect was something that, at least in front of him, they couldn't miss. But making a fuss just for this didn't seem right at the moment, at most he would have done it after finishing the interview

A woman enters the room, probably only a few years older than him, in her thirties. She looked familiar, and he wasn't sure why he had a bad feeling. The woman approaches, sitting on one of the armchairs next to him. They could have changed your chair for that armchair, why hadn't they done it?

"It's a real pleasure for me to interview you again. It's been a long time since the first time!" the woman says smiling, and from there Micheal finally understands why he felt like he knew her: a few years ago, before he even met you, he did an interview with this woman. The video had gone viral not for the questions, but for the way it was obvious the two of them were flirting with each other. Not that Micheal was really interested, it was just a habit before he met you

Before he can even say anything, a producer announces the start of the interview. The woman smiles at the camera, giving a brief introduction before moving on to a few questions: they are all things related to soccer, Bastard Munchen and the next match against Italy, which will take place in a few weeks. Micheal relaxes his nerves a little to see that nothing has to do with his private life, and turns around to see you from time to time. You smile softly at him, nodding as a sign that he's going well, really everything is going well

But Kaiser relaxed too soon, unfortunately. "Sooo, the internet world has been wondering this for a while... and now seems like the right opportunity to ask it! We're done with soccer questions anyway, right?" the woman says, chuckling, placing a stack of notes on a nearby table, picking up another. Kaiser tilts his head, and for a moment, he thinks these are the usual questions related to his relationship. Nothing new

"Our first interview was four years ago, when you weren't even dating yet. The internet world wondered for a long time if we were together!" the woman says, with a look that Kaiser recognizes: hoe. He turns to you and for a moment he reads some confusion on your face "The interview went so viral that everyone really thought it was a way to reveal our relationship to the world. But it didn't go that way, unfortunately" says the woman

If he wasn't live nationally and if the interviewer wasn't a woman, he would have already crushed her face with his fist. With what logic does she talk about something like that in front of you, his girlfriend? Where's the fucking respect they're supposed to give you but are lacking in every possible way? Everything is going wrong

“It sure would have been a fun thing to do and-” the woman says speaking casually, but the guy interrupts her “Schatz, could you come over here for a sec?” Kaiser says, shifting his attention solely to you, who finds yourself perplexed for a moment. He's breaking every rule possible, but he doesn't care. If he wants you next to him on national live broadcast, the producers will make you stand next to him on national live broadcast

You get up from the chair a little scared, walking among the producers who mentally and not curse Kaiser. You pass the woman who, with an annoyed look, stares at you. With slightly shaky legs you sit next to Micheal, who immediately grabs you putting his arm around your shoulders, pushing your hip against his. You try to smile as best you can in front of the camera, which records everything. Kaiser squeezes your shoulder slightly, and then turns his face back towards the camera "I don't rule out that that interview made me go viral everywhere for months and months, increasing my fame" says the boy "But my behavior was a bit wrong at the time, I was definitely giving attention to people who shouldn't have been..." says Micheal, and while you try to hold back a laugh, the interviewer opens her paralyzed mouth

Kaiser chuckles at the situation, then continues "The attention that I used to give to random people is now received by her, who deserves it all. The mere fact that she accompanies me everywhere is a valid reason to love her, right?" the boy says, squeezing your shoulder again, and you smile in love "She is simply better. It's not even a competition, because she would win before even starting. Maybe if my girlfriend had been the interviewer that time I would say differently now! Maybe I would have already married her, who knows" Kaiser says, and you tilt your head against his shoulder, leaning on him like you always do. You're so damn in love with him

If the producers and interviewer failed to give you respect behind the scenes and also with annoyance, Kaiser will make sure to prove your worth in front of the whole Germany

— itoshi rin

If there was one thing that distinguished Rin from his teammates, it was the ability to turn each of his interviews into a future edit that would become popular on all social media. He was famous, damn famous, every scene of his was edited by millions of people every day. His interviews, for his fans, were the best opportunity to make scenes about him

And since you had been dating, for a few years now, you had suffered more or less the same treatment as Rin. You often appeared in his interviews, you were loved by his fan base, and the edits about you that went as viral as those of your beloved boyfriend

"...the Australian defense this time had to face a much better prepared Japan than last match" says the interviewer, the microphone held out towards Rin. A match has just ended, obviously won by Japan: Rin is still sweaty, his legs slightly weak from running for practically the entire duration of the match. But he's not sick, he's simply tired and he just wants to kiss you

Of course you came to his game, taking a seat in the VIP section of the players' families. It's a habit that, as soon as the match is over, he comes to the VIP section to kiss you, but this time he couldn't: the journalists completely captured him, making it impossible to even move a few meters

"Yes. We decided to change the defense to prepare for Australia's top scorer, who couldn't do anything this time compared to previous matches" Rin replies disinterestedly, looking for you. There are just so many people, so many players or interviewers, but where the hell are you? Didn't something happen to you?

"It must also be said that Japan no longer has any problems in terms of strikers since you joined as an honorary member of the team" says the interviewer, and Rin nods without actually thinking much about what they told him. He just has a strange feeling, he doesn't understand why he isn't seeing you when it's never been difficult for him to find you in a crowd of people

"Any projects in mind at the moment? On a soccer level or on a personal level?" the interviewer asks, but Rin stops hearing him when, a few meters away from him, he sees you: you're a little lost, your gaze curious while you were probably looking for him too. It makes him somewhat tender to see you like this, but he is happy to know that all his doubts about whether something had happened to you are false

"Mr. Itoshi?" the man asks, but Rin takes a few steps forward, not enough to disappear from the camera lens, to signal to you that he's there. It doesn't take you long to notice, running like a little girl in his direction, hugging him as you wrap your arms around his neck, while he places his hands on your hips. "I couldn't find you!" you say laughing, holding onto your boyfriend who holds you close to him "It's the journalists' fault" Rin whispers, leaving a kiss on your cheek before remembering that he's in the middle of an interview. He turns just enough to see that the camera is now perfectly directed towards you, immortalizing the romantic moment between Japan's number one striker and his beautiful girlfriend. The edits will be crazy this time

You notice that the camera is pointed towards you, and a little embarrassed you try to smile without revealing the hint of discomfort "I'll be back later?" you say to your boyfriend, who before you can even finish the sentence, shakes his head as he grabs your wrist "No. You're coming too" he says walking back towards the station, squeezing your wrist affectionately. You follow him, a little embarrassed but it wasn't the first time it happened, so you had gotten used to it

Rin returns to his seat, his arm around your waist ignoring the fact that he almost slipped out of an interview. You stand next to him, your arm behind his back, smiling at the man who now knows both of them "Were you saying?" Rin asks, returning to the interview questions

"Oh, yeah yeah... any projects in mind at the moment? On a soccer level or on a personal level?" the interviewer asks again

Rin thinks about it for a moment. The plans are actually there. He must still become the best of the best, climb to the top and lead Japan to be the strongest team in the world. It simply has yet to break some of its limitations

But there are also other projects. He has to decide when to use that ring he bought more than a few months ago. He must understand when to kneel down and definitely ask you to become Miss Itoshi, his wife. These are mainly his most important projects at the moment

"I still have a lot to do, Japan has to become the most important and strongest team in the world, and maybe I will take on the role of team captain. On a personal level though... I don't know, I just want to continue what I already doing for a while… making her happy every day” Rin says, and you can swear you feel your heart explode

Your boyfriend isn't a big talker, you knew this even before we got together. But the facts speak, and he is doing exactly what he says: every day he makes you happy, and you couldn't be more grateful. His words may seem like nothing, but they mean a lot to you. You simply love him. The interviewer smiles. You turn to Rin and he leans down slightly to kiss you on the nose, making you giggle while the cameras film you

Maybe Rin could use that ring tonight, maybe?

[chrollogy]

EPISODE 2: CHOCOLATE GONE WRONG

neuvillette x f!reader

NNN ‘24 masterlist | Next Episode

DETAILS: Neuvillette finds himself itching to break the sacred rule of No Nut November after naïvely indulging in aphrodisiac-laced chocolates gifted by Sigewinne—a popular craze among young Fontanian adults.

DURATION: 5.3k

CONTENT ADVISORY: explicit smut, mdni, porn without plot, p in v, creampie, neuvi has two cocks + emphasis on his draconic features, use of aphrodisiacs (neuvillette), neuvi uses his cane as a makeshift leg spreader bar, pet names (ma/mon chérie, ma belle, (my) love), not beta read

DIRECTOR’S NOTES: divider: cafekitsune. round 2! also i’m not quite sure i will get the next two fics out in time (or if i’m getting them out at all) but i will try my best T_T. your lil moon is having a rough patch rn so yeah but nonetheless enjoy!

For Neuvillette, the month of November was nothing significant to say the least—his job continued, overseeing trials, sorting out documents, meeting with important people, and more workload now that Lady Furina had stepped down from archon hood; so, when you had come into his office one day, talking about how a certain trend spread like fire across Teyvat, Neuvillette was rather intrigued.

It had a weird name—No Nut November—and couldn’t quite wrap his mind around the idea based on the name alone. He remembered how you explained to him Fontanians, and people of other nations were to engage in No Nut November which was to participate in sexual abstinence.

Naturally, the idea was all bizarre to him—not because he thought he couldn’t do it but more so the fact that it was natural for humans to engage in intercourse, same goes for his kind as well. Neuvillette couldn’t see the significance of such a trend, and why humans were participating but who was he to deny your proposal of a challenge? After all, there was no harm involved, he figured it would help him understand human customs a little better despite the it’s strangeness in nature.

Situated behind his desk, Neuvillette let out a deep sigh, letting the papers in his hand fall onto the wooden desk beneath before rubbing his temples. 

“Stressed, Monsieur?” A familiar, teasing voice sliced through the suffocating silence of the Iudex’s office. Neuvillette looked up from his desk, greeted by a friendly figure. The former was too focused on the case materials before him that he hadn’t realised the presence of another, “Wriothesley. I’m rather surprised to see you.”

The raven-haired male was clad in his usual attire, heavy obsidian boots sounding with each step taken against the carpeted floors.

“Ah, you’re not the only one.” Wriothesley chuckled, recalling his encounter with Sedene just mere seconds ago, who looked like she had just seen a ghost. Before Neuvillette could inquire about the sudden visit, the former beat him to it,

“Don’t worry, I won’t take up much of your time. I’m here because Sigewinne had given me an errand to run. She got these for you.” Taking a couple steps closer to Neuvillette’s desk, Wriothesley placed a small box atop the case papers. Carefully wrapped in an ivory satin ribbon, the azure container was adorned with intricate designs in gold that shone beneath the afternoon sun, neatly decorated chocolates peeked from the plastic window of the lid.

The Chief Justice subtly raised his brows in amusement, he wasn’t one to indulge in chocolate nor was he a sweet tooth but nonetheless, he appreciated Sigewinne’s thoughtful gesture.

“That is very kind, please thank her for me.”

Watching the way Neuvillette’s expression morphed into a naïve smile, Wriothesley crossed his arms over his chest, “Say, Monsieur, have you heard of the craze among young Fontanian adults right now?” He most likely already knew the Iudex’s answer to the question but what was life without a little teasing?

With how the popular sweet has been making rounds across Fontaine, it would be near impossible for anyone to be clueless about it but at the end of the day, Neuvillette was Neuvillette, probably the busiest man in all of Fontaine which is why Sigewinne had to intervene with the chocolates. The head nurse didn’t have to physically see the Iudex to tell how much he’s been overworking himself nor was a simple order from her was going to stop him.

So, what better way to disguise a remedy with something simple? Basically akin to administering medication to a pet concealed as a tasty treat

Sexual intercourse was the fastest—and best—way to relieve him of his stress. Sigewinne hoped for the Iudex to pardon her complete brazenness but he was as stubborn as a rock, and took her orders about resting rather lightly.

Naturally, Neuvillette shook his head with a light chuckle, a tinge of interest seeping its way into his skin, “I believe I’ve heard her talk about it but the details must have slipped my mind.” A subtle blush blanketed the Chief Justice’s pale cheeks at the mention of his lover, you. Wriothesley’s lips stretched into a teasing smile—one which the former paid no attention to.

 “Well, would you ever try an aphrodisiac?” At Neuvillette’s baffled expression, the younger male bit the inside of his cheeks, biting back a hearty laugh. 

“An aphrodisiac, you say? Substances that—” “That increases one’s libido, yes.” Wriothesley cut him off, tease practically dripping from his tone. Neuvillette was a man capable of many things, an esteemed individual once he’s in court but when it came to much simpler matters, the Chief Justice was nothing but clueless, especially regarding human customs that are a bit harder to wrap one’s head around.

“I’m afraid I have no such time for trivial things.”

The Iudex shook his head once more, this time dismissively waving a gloved hand at his friend. He cleared his throat, the blush on his cheeks deepening into a crimson hue—Neuvillette wasn’t going to say it out loud, especially not in front of Wriothesley but he deemed himself more than capable of maintaining his sexual desires and performances, you were enough proof.

Wriothesley left it at that, his friend may just end up as red as a tomato if he prodded around the topic any further. Needless to say, amusement filled him to the brim, “Alright. It was nice chatting with you Monsieur. I believe Sigewinne also left a small note there—”

The latter looked down at the box. Indeed, there was a small piece of paper neatly folded and tucked beneath the ivory ribbon.

“—do heed her letter.” With that, Wriothesley dipped his chin, sauntering over to the double doors.

Reaching for the handle, the Duke stopped in his tracks, he looked over his shoulder, icy cerulean gaze full of mischief, “Oh, and I hope you two enjoy—the chocolates, I mean.” With that, he left the office, leaving Neuvillette to his thoughts.

The day went by rather quickly, the azure skies turning into golden hues of oranges and yellows as the sun bid farewell to its people, disappearing below the horizon. The chocolates from Sigewinne remained untouched on the corner of Neuvillette’s desk, it watched as stars decorated the night sky; though, as the Chief Justice retired for the evening, he grabbed the box of sweets before heading out.

Neuvillette figured he’d share them with you at home.

Greeted with silent darkness, he was suddenly reminded of your words this morning at breakfast: ‘Oh, I have work dinner later, my love; so, I won’t be eating here. We’re celebrating a company milestone.’ Conveniently enough, Neuvillette had already eaten at his office before leaving so he won’t have the pleasure of sitting across an empty seat at the dining table.

Getting ready for the chilly night ahead, Neuvillette changed into his evening attire after taking a warm bath, he donned silken azure pyjamas paired with a fluffy ivory robe. His silver strands cascaded down the length of his spine, the cerulean bow, and golden hair clips he usually wore were neatly tucked away inside his jewellery box.

Situated on the love seat, Neuvillette casually flipped through case documents inside a brown paper folder. The fireplace across him was ablazed with hues of oranges and reds, casting a citrine glow upon the dimly lit living room. As flames danced atop dry wood, the dulcet sound of classical music poured from the record player, filling the space with its tunes.

After minutes of skimming and scanning the documents, he reached for the box of sweets next to his lap, taking time to read Sigewinne’s carefully written note:

Monsieur Neuvillette, I’ve acquired these sweets for you, and her! I figured these would help you loosen up a little so please do not shy away from consuming as much as you want. Make sure to share them with her as well. Enjoy!

Love, Sigewinne

A warm smile spread across Neuvillette’s face, and despite his better judgement of waiting for you to come home and indulge in the taste of chocolate together, he figured one piece wouldn’t hurt to try alone, right?

With the moon high up in the obsidian night sky, you walked down the cobblestone footpath that led closer to yours and Neuvillette’s shared space, the evening breeze gently caressing the apple of your cheeks. Work dinner had just concluded at Hotel Debord which housed a lovely singer who put on a dazzling performance.

By now, the streets of the Court of Fontaine were more deserted as people retired to their homes for the night, shop owners here and there packed away their respective signage, their stores devoid of any customers.

With each step leading closer to home, you soon found yourself in front of your home, keys jingling between your fingers as you unlocked the front door. From the entrance hallway, warm hues greeted you like an embrace, hinting at the ablazed fireplace in the living room.

“My love? I’m home.” You called out to Neuvillette while skilfully removing your shoes, and neatly placed them beside his own.

Met with silence, you figured he either must be occupied with something or must have fallen asleep while waiting for your return. You sauntered over to the end of the entrance hallway, making your way to the living room, and as you got closer, melodic sounds engulfed your senses—you recognized it, Neuvillette’s favourite classical music.

Turning the corner, you were greeted with a rather interesting sight, a wave of concern washing over you,  “Neuvi—Are you okay?”

Seated on the love seat was Neuvillette, his left elbow propped on its arm rest, face hiding behind his hand. A deep crimson blush painted his handsome face, intensified by the reds and oranges that the fireplace emitted. He sat there looking flustered, chest heaving up and down as he took heavy breaths. Drinking in the view, you noticed documents sprawled across the empty space next to him but what really caught your eye was the intricately designed box resting on his right thigh.

The box had its lid intact yet the loose ivory ribbon draped over his thigh hinted he had previously opened it. Upon closer inspection, you realised it's familiar packaging, a co-worker had shown it to you the other day, telling you how her and her boyfriend have been dying to try the popular chocolates—chocolates laced with a potent aphrodisiac. 

Your gaze made its way back to Neuvillette—who was still breathing heavily on the love seat—now noticing the prominent tent beneath his silken pants, the azure fabric was flimsy and delicate which left little to your imagination. Pushing away the impure thoughts that snaked its way into your mind, you kneeled before your lover with a concerned expression,

“My love, who gave these to you?”

Knowing Neuvillette, he most likely consumed the chocolates without knowing its true contents simply because he wasn’t aware of the trivial things that humans indulged themselves in.

He let out a pained groan, shaky and vulnerable as he shifted in his seat, “Forgive me, ma chérie. This is improper of me.” With trembling hands, Neuvillette covered his throbbing groin, completely embarrassed that you had to see him in such a state. Truth be told, he didn’t know what came over him—a chocolate or two was all he had, and the next thing he knew, his skin burned like a thousand suns as blood rushed down, down, down to his cock.

The very core of Neuvillette’s body churned with desire—carnal desire—and as each second passed, each tick of the ivory wall clock, the uncomfortable yearn between his legs grew. A light sheen of sweat coated his feverish forehead, as though he was experiencing a fever, and whatever this was, it heightened all five of his senses.

From your voice sounding like it dripped with pure honey, all the way to the saccharine scent of your body, Neuvillette was driven mad with lust. It didn’t help how you kneeled before him, and gently caressed his thigh, a poor attempt of comfort because it brought nothing but waves of icy shudders down the length of his spine. Sensitive. His body was completely sensitive to any external stimuli, and if you rubbed his leg any further, he might just come undone.

An embarrassing thought.

Neuvillette was pathetically needy. How preposterous, the high esteemed Iudex of Fontaine reduced to nothing but a lust-driven man eager to shove his aching cock deep in your velvety walls. The subtle buck of his hips against the thick air; the way he swallowed breathless whimpers at your touch; the violent throbbing between his legs, he was beyond irredeemable.

With another grunt, Neuvillette panted out, “Sigewinne gifted them. Wriothesley had delivered it to my office this afternoon.”

Truth be told, you weren’t surprised. At all.

Standing up from your spot, you walked over to the wall phone. You tried your best to ignore the dainty whimper that fell from Neuvillette’s lips as your warm touch left his thigh, you also tried to ignore how his body involuntarily sought you out—trembling hands reaching to chase your gentle hold.

With glassy eyes, Neuvillette watched as you deftly dialled on the phone, he couldn’t help but trace your breathtaking figure, from the square of your shoulders all the way to the curves and dips of your legs. Oh, the things he’d do to spread them open, and inhale your sweet essence like a mad man. Neuvillette could practically taste your honey on his tongue, its velvety texture sliding down his throat.

Another groan escaped your lover at the thought of eating you out, his cock rubbed against the fabric of his underwear as it shamelessly twitched beneath his pants.

“Ah, I didn’t think you’d be calling given the . . . circumstances.” Of course Wriothesley knew. Pure tease dripped from his honeyed voice, most likely paired with a smug smile, and an icy, taunting gaze.

“Why would you give him that?!” 

A chuckle from the other end of the line, “First of all, I just delivered the present. Our head nurse here bought it. She’s helping Monsieur Neuvillette out.”

You huffed, trying to make sense of Sigewinne’s motives, “By what? Feeding him chocolates with a potent substance?” You’ve always adored how Sigewinne cared for her loved ones, especially Neuvillette—whatever one’s deal was, she was always willing to help out in her own unique way. But this . . giving him such a substance without any warning felt like foul play, and not only was Neuvillette receiving the short end of the stick, you were as well.

You weren’t naïve, aphrodisiacs only wore off after one has reached their satisfaction through sexual means, like quenching one’s thirst. 

“You’re making it sound like we gave him drugs.” “It is drugs, Wriothesley!”

Before you could say anything else, gentle, yearning arms wrapped around your front, caressing your stomach which ultimately caught you off guard. Neuvillette. Nuzzling into the junction of your neck just beneath the telephone against your ear, he placed hot, open-mouthed kisses along your sensitive spot, soft smacks of his lips loud enough for Wriothesley to pick up.

You bit back a moan, free hand coming up to rest on the wall to support your weight. Neuvillette’s kisses had your legs trembling, it left prominent goosebumps in its wake as he trailed further down to your shoulder blades.

“Hm. Looks like it's time for me to go. Pass on my best wishes to Monsieur Neuvillette.” And with that, he hung up the phone.

“My apologies, ma chérie. I just—I need you.” Neuvillette sighed, hot breath ghosting over your bare skin, akin to a gentle caress coaxing you into the borders of lust, like a lone finger protruding from the darkness, beckoning you to its endless, sinful void.

“Love—mhm!” You let out a yelp, his hands finding comfort on the curve of your hips, keeping them still as he slotted his clothed cock between your ass. Neuvillette grinded into you, unshameful and devoid of any decorum. Placing the telephone back on the wall, your nails dug into the hearts of your palms, just the feel of his hard cock had you embarrassingly wet already.

Neuvillette was different from this, despite his sexual urges, he was never forward with you, he took his time—sensual and sincere, treating you like the finest piece of gold to ever exist. But saying you weren’t enjoying his brazenness would be a complete lie. Seeing a different side to your lover put you in a rather sensitive state, almost like a virgin bedded for the first time.

Something primal had awoken deep inside his core, and the only way to handle it was to satiate his carnal thirst.

Nonetheless, you tried to get your point across, “Neuvi . . What you’re experiencing is the effect of an aphrodisiac from those chocolates Sigewinne gave you.”

Your words fell deaf on his pointed ears, instead, Neuvillette mumbled some of his own, “I’m sorry . . Ma belle, I promised you about that challenge but it seems I cannot fight my urges any longer.” Another shaky sigh left his rosy lips.

Challenge? Oh.

Oh.

Even in his lust-driven state, Neuvillette was still thinking about the No Nut November challenge you had proposed earlier this month.

“I’m a man of my word but I need you, my love. Let me break the rules just this once, please?” Pure desperation coated every word that came out of his mouth. It was thick like honey, and melted on your skin like snow. God, at this point the stupid challenge wasn’t even on your mind anymore, not when he desperately humped your ass like an animal in heat—quick, little ruts of his hips that soothed the ache a bit better.

Who were you to deny your lover?

The transition from the living room to the shared bedroom was a blur—everything was hasty; desperate hands exploring each other’s bodies; lips sealed together in a rough, passionate kiss; a trail of clothes messily discarded on the floor leading up to the room. Everything Neuvillette did had you on your toes, completely breathless while trying to mirror his hurried actions.

Normally, Neuvillette would bask in your serene glory, peeling clothes off from your body layer by layer, and decorating your exposed skin with butterfly kisses. He’d gently stroke your hair, slender fingers weaving through the strands as he takes in your bare beauty.

Now, his tongue swiftly explored your mouth—lengthy and thick—something he has never done before. It dizzied you.

You landed on the foot of the plush mattress with a soft gasp as Neuvillette pulled away. Breathless and flustered, you stared up at him through your lashes, soft pants escaping your kissed lips. The sight before him made his cock twitch. How your hair was splayed around your head, mimicking a soft halo, a divine being greater than he.

Neuvillette discarded the last two pieces of clothing—pants and underwear—in one fell swoop, and what came into view undoubtedly had you clenching around nothing. Standing proud and heavy at the base of his abdomen were his cocks, both painted in a deep vermillion hue, and generously leaking pre-cum. The sticky pearlescent substance coated his bulbous tips, it glistened beneath the moonlight, beckoning you to wrap your lips around them, and have a feast.

This wasn’t the first time you saw Neuvillette naked nor were you not aware of his kind but it always brought you shock every time, not to mention the faint cerulean scales the underside of his cocks boasted, it was also his sensitive spot.

Stepping out from the puddle of fabric around his ankles, Neuvillette did the same to your undergarments, mindlessly tossing them elsewhere in the room. A low growl sounded from his chest as he pried your legs apart, his deft hands guided them to bend at the knees while resting the soles of your feet on the edge of the mattress, putting your glistening cunt on full display.

In less than a heartbeat, Neuvillette was on his knees, his eager tongue lapping along the length of your slit, your arousal pooled at the tip of his tongue like sinful honey, the divine taste of your cunt prompting another shameless growl from your lover. He repeated the movement a couple of times, each lick reaching closer and closer to your sensitive clit, and when he finally reached it with his hardened tongue, you let out a surprised gasp.

“Neuvillette!”

Shocks of electrifying pleasure kissed its way up your spine as Neuvillette tongued at your swollen bud—tight, fast circles, up and down, side to side, he toyed with you like it was the only thing he knew how to do. Your hands immediately flew to his ivory tresses due to his ministrations, it was almost like playing a game of tug of war, indecisively pushing and pulling his, unsure if you wanted more or if you wanted him to stop and slow down.

Lewd, wet smacks of Neuvillette’s tongue mixed with his low growls filled the room, allowing you to bask in the sounds of pleasure your lover unabashedly made. Almost akin to a vicious beast swallowing down its prey.

As your back arched off the mattress, and the grip on Neuvillette’s hair tightening, he pulled away, earning a rather disappointed whine to fall from your lips. Sweet arousal abundantly coated his lips and chin, bringing warmth to your cheeks. No one in the room dared to say it but this was the first time your cunt got embarrassingly wet, not that Neuvillette was inadequate in bed per se but you were wetter than usual, and you were confident that he had also noticed.

The glow of his lilac eyes and cerulean feelers were proof enough.

Standing up to his feet, Neuvillette languidly stroked the cock that sat beneath the other one, an immodest gaze raking over your sopping cunt, and how it shamelessly dripped with sticky arousal enough to soil the ivory sheets beneath.

“Are you ready, ma chérie?” Neuvillette’s lilac stare captured you in a haze, absentmindedly nodding at his words as though you were rendered speechless.

He slowly rubbed the tip of his bottom cock before pushing it past your soaked folds, it eagerly swallowed him in—a loud, shameless squelch filling your ears as he stretched you open further. Your toes curled at the sensation, hips immediately bucking into him as you moaned his name. The stretch was a pleasurable burn, one that had you rolling your eyes back, and digging your nails onto the sheets a little harder. Neuvillette was able to easily slip into you, courtesy of the plentiful slick that coated your velvety walls.

Neuvillette stilled as he bottomed out, quick, short pants falling from his rosy lips. God, you always took him so, so well, he could never get enough of the feeling of warmth wrapped around his cock. You took this time to get used to the stretch, your muscles relaxing to lessen the resistance he felt. Neuvillette filled you up so well you could almost feel him in your stomach—a thought that had you clenching around him.

One, two, three seconds later, Neuvillette slowly pulled back, letting out a shaky breath at the pleasurable sensation. And with only his cock head inside you, he took no time to slam all the way inside. You moaned, hands flying to his bare shoulders, immediately marking his pale skin with crimson stripes. Neuvillette unabashedly keened at the clench of your cunt around him, knees buckling as you gripped his cock like a vice, making it harder for him to move in and out.

“Haah! Mhm! Neuvi—right there, my love!” Colourful moans and whimpers urged Neuvillette on, dragging him further and further to the state of insanity. “You feel divine, ma belle . .” The words came out as a choked sob—pathetic and dainty. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead paired with a deep crimson blush that painted his cheeks, if anything, Neuvillette looked absolutely ethereal in this state despite how out of it the aphrodisiacs made him.

Not only were his cocks extra sensitive to touch but he could also perfectly smell the scent of your sex that lingered in the air. That sweet, sinful aroma he knew oh so well.

It made his head spin.

He tried holding back, he really did but your dulcet moans stroked his growing ego, and the feel of your sopping cunt deliciously sliding against him, the last thread of sanity that held him snapped.

Violently.

As if he saw nothing but bright hues of ruby, Neuvillette picked up his pace, long thrusts quickly turning into short ones as he mercilessly pistoned his hips over and over again, allowing his cock head to reach your sweet spot. Your fingers raked down the length of his spine—leaving violent ribbons of red in its wake—stopping right at the dimples of his back, leaving crescent-shaped marks as you dug onto the pale skin there. Neuvillette wasn’t the only one on the brink of insanity with how the underside of his other cock furiously rubbed at your swollen clit with each thrust, it rested at the hood of your cunt, thick and heavy.

“S-so good! It feels so good—ngh!” The thrust of his hips felt amazing, too amazing to the point where your body started to reject them. Your body entered fight or flight mode, parted knees instinctively closing together which only allowed an inconvenient amount of room for Neuvillette to move with.

Upon noticing the change, he slowed down, sweaty palms resting on either knee, “My love—haah . . Open up for me, would you?” Winded and weak, Neuvillette attempted to pry your knees apart to no avail considering his mushy state.

“Too much, mon chérie . . I—I can’t.” Neuvillette shook his head at your words before pulling out, leaving you confused and empty. From the mattress, you watched as he sauntered over to his side of the bed, grabbing a lengthy, obsidian object that rested against his nightstand. Before a question could even formulate in your mind, he returned to his spot in the blink of an eye; though, this time, with something in his hand.

A cane—his cane. The same one he used during court proceedings, in that context, it was deemed a sacred symbolism of his authority as the Iudex of Fontaine.

To use it in such a setting would be borderline blasphemy.

Hovering over your trembling body, Neuvillette placed chaste kisses on each knee, “Do you trust me, my dear?” Was that even a question? Of course you did. He wouldn’t harm you and you believed that completely.

With a soft touch, Neuvillette was able to easily pry your knees apart, the scent of your cunt once again filling his senses. He wordlessly slotted the obsidian cane beneath your knees, its surface cool against your feverish skin, you shuddered at the contrast in temperature. Neuvillette pushed down on the shaft of the cane, bringing your knees closer to your chest—you also noticed how it kept your legs still, meaning you had no option to close them.

You whimpered at the slight burn the position invited, especially with the cane pressing down on your soft skin. And once again, Neuvillette sheathed his cock inside your cunt before setting the same merciless pace. Only this time, you wouldn’t be able to deny him.

“Neuvi! Neuvi! Neuvi—aah! Fuck—mhm!” You held on to the ivory sheets above your head for your dear life as Neuvillette roughly pistoned his hips. With each relentless thrust given, your body jolted further up the mattress, breasts bouncing in full display for your lover to drink in. Oh, how he adored the way your naked body moved and reacted to him, so plush and pliant.

Sharp hisses from the bed frame interlaced with the pornographic sounds of your moans, creating a lewd melody for the moon to witness, a sinful song only for the darkness of the night to hear—full of heat and passion.

“Does—ngh! Does it feel good, my love? Will you give in to the—haah! To the pleasure I’m giving you?” Neuvillette curled over himself, tresses of ivory cascading down to cage your face as he leaned closer to you. Despite the blur of your vision, you noticed the faint azure scales that decorated the side of his neck along with his pupils becoming more animalistic.

Neuvillette’s draconic features only ever made itself known during his heat; so, this came as a genuine surprise to you. Not that you were really complaining.

His hand remained on his cane while the other found comfort on your hip, subtly guiding your body onto him to meet each thrust. Neuvillette met your gaze through a glossy stare, you watched as beads of crystalline-like tears formed on the corners of his eyes, eventually rolling down his reddened cheeks. The sight before you was beyond divine, it wasn’t every day one would see the Chief Justice in such a poor state, his usual expressionless face painted with a colourful expression.

One that unmistakably screamed how lost he was in pleasure: rosy lips parted to let out soft whimpers, brows tightly knitted together, creating a deep crease between his brows.

“Are you close ma chérie? Mhm—aah! Come with me?” Neuvillette breathed out. It took all of his will power to hold himself up, and keep his hips moving due to immense pleasure weighing on his body like a great burden. The feeling had him trembling to his very bones, like a yellow autumn leaf braving the evening winds, and no matter how much his brain screamed at him to stop, he didn’t.

The pleasure would be too great of a loss if Neuvillette stopped now; so, he kept going—pounding, rutting, and grinding into you as he chased both your impending orgasms.

You nodded vigorously, throat too dry from all that panting to choke out any coherent words. The burn of the position you maintained mixed with Neuvillette’s cocks stimulating your cunt sent you into a painful yet pleasurable overdrive.

Without a second thought, you hastily placed your hands between your bodies, blindly seeking out Neuvillette’s other cock, and wrapping your fingers around it. To the best of your ability, you vigorously pumped his shaft, matching your strokes with his thrusts.

Neuvillette shuddered, releasing a loud moan into the damp air. After a few more quick thrusts, he stilled deep inside you, sealing his lips with yours as you both reached your climax, eagerly swallowing one another’s lewd moans. Your back arched off the mattress, toes curling, and fingers digging into Neuvillette’s skin as you violently came, the feel of his thick, hot cum painting your plush walls white had your hips bucking into him, begging for more.

Embarrassingly enough, Neuvillette came a lot. Not only inside you—to the point where it spilled out of your cunt and onto the sheets below—but also on you. The cock you’ve been stroking spurted thick ribbons of cum on your abdomen, abundantly covering your skin in his essence. He looked at the filthy art that decorated your skin, colourful curses enough to make Fontainians gasp in shock filled his mind.

How beautiful you were marked by him.

“Did I hurt you in any way?” He asked, slowly peeling himself away from you. Neuvillette made sure to quickly remove his cane from under your knees, placing it flat on the floor before tending to you. He kissed your sweaty forehead, and pulled your bodies up the mattress with your head atop the fluffy pillows.

“Not at all but I have to say, I was reaaally looking forward to completing the challenge, mon chérie.” You joked, letting out a breathless laugh.

Neuvillette blushed, suddenly remembering how he readily accepted the proposal of your challenge . . What was it again? No Nut November?

“Another year is to be expected, I am determined we will overcome the challenge.” And you were looking forward to that. Very much so. You just hoped he wouldn’t consume another aphrodisiac-laced sweet in the coming year so the both of you could actually complete the challenge.

Well, at least you concluded that Neuvillette and aphrodisiacs weren’t such a bad match, right?

Looks like you had a certain head nurse to thank. —

SUBSCRIBE to be notified ! (taglist)

taglist: @engel-katze, @dar1ingduchess, @futuraesposadosebastian, @yoongibabs, @tyee100, @plan3toflov3, @iamyoojin, @plennyofthots, @thenasoneshots, @silvertealeaf, @nervousanimeartanimescissors, @nyekchevski, @venteeni, @amelan, @leylanx, @sillykenma, @zerowantstobattle, @darkpeace15, @ayaya-aa, @itsactuallynyx, @giyusdarling, @shell0303, @astraecea-silversin, @wakashudou, @awawage, @neverlandlostchild, @euthymiko, @venussakura, @acehyacinth, @crumpetcannon, @doveslittlenest, @bloodredfeathers (if your url is white it means i can’t tag you :<)

affiliated with @houseofsolisoccasum & @pixelcafe-network !

© chrollogy 2024 | don’t plagiarise, repost or steal my header.

[thankskenpenders]

Thoughts on two specific areas of the writing in Sonic X Shadow Generations

The best new 3D Sonic game in over a decade (or even two, depending on who you ask) dropped late last year. And I didn't write anything about it! Sometimes life happens. Well, I've finally sat down to finish Shadow Generations, and by now everyone has already been singing its praises for three months. This is the rare instance where the entire Sonic fandom, and even mainstream reviewers, are in agreement on something. The level design is the best it's been in a long, long time and the cool factor is off the charts, embracing Sonic's peak cringe era in an incredibly confident way. It's great. If you're even reading this post, you probably don't need me to tell you that. So I won't!

No, what I'm really interested in here is the writing. Because this is me we're talking about. But I actually don't want to talk about the main narrative of Shadow Generations, which is really solid little story about Black Doom trying to mold Shadow into his perfect soldier. No, I'd like to zero in on two other aspects of the writing here: the revisions made to Sonic Generations, and Gerald Robotnik's unlockable journal.

The updated Sonic Generations script

The new package mostly presents Sonic Generations how you remember it. There are some tweaks, but it's not a major overhaul. Graphically, I don't think the game has been touched much, if at all. I certainly can't notice any difference without a side-by-side comparison, despite playing it on a PS5. The most notable update is that the game's script has been rewritten by Ian Flynn.

Naturally, this caught my attention. Generations always had a nothingburger story, so with Ian rewriting Pontac and Graff's lame dialogue there was nowhere to go but up. (I don't like to pin the blame for those games' stories entirely on them, as a ton of it was dictated to them by Sonic Team, but, well, I don't think they're very good dialogue writers.) But it's less a complete rewrite and more like Ian was brought on as a script doctor for some minor touch ups here and there. Many lines of dialogue are completely identical to how they were originally written in 2011, and many others only have slight wording changes. Ian was clearly not allowed to request additional scenes or extend the ones that already existed. He has to match the original beat for beat so that they can reuse 99% of the cutscene animations. Don't expect it to be a whole new experience compared to the original.

Still, I think the new script is an improvement, albeit a minor one. Various things have been tweaked to maintain characterization consistency. Cream calls Sonic "Mr. Sonic" instead of just "Sonic." Instead of calling Sonic "buddy," Rouge uses the pet name "Blue," like she tends to do in things like the IDW comics. Espio doesn't have to remind you in the dialogue that he's a ninja, and he no longer has a line making it sound like he has some kind of soul reading power. I also like that Modern Sonic now actually has responses to what his friends say when he rescues them, rather than being silent like Classic Sonic. They won't blow you away, but they make Sonic feel a little more engaged with everything.

In general, the altered dialogue just seems tighter to me, and some of the more childish or trite wording of Pontac and Graff's script has been altered. Here, let's actually make a direct comparison, just because this stuff is interesting to me as a writer. Here's a couple lines from after the Egg Dragoon fight late in the game, in the original script:

Modern Eggman: Ooooh... I can't believe this! I was supposed to beat you this time. Modern Sonic: Aw, I'm sorry! I didn't get that memo. I beat you every time! [Turns to Classic Sonic] No, seriously, we beat this guy every time. It's like it's our job or something!

This is a simple exchange. Eggman is mad that he lost. Sonic is unflappably confident because he always beats Eggman, and he explains this to his younger self. But the wording here isn't particularly good. Eggman's simple and direct wording makes him come off like a little kid who's mad because his older brother beat him at Mario Kart, rather than a mad scientist who just had his plans foiled. It's making light of the situation.

And I've never liked Sonic saying "It's like it's our job or something!" That doesn't feel like a thing Sonic would say, it feels like a thing an outside observer would say about Sonic. This is a frequent problem with so-called "MCU dialogue," where quips meant to echo the commentary of a casual, somewhat disinterested audience are inserted into the story itself so that the writers can be like "See? We get it. We're genre-savvy, too!" It also just reminds me of bad Sonic Boom: Rise of Lyric lines like "Rings! It's like they're made for me!"

And then here's Ian's rewrite:

Modern Eggman: I recalibrated everything! This was supposed to be my time! Modern Sonic: Oh, please, keep dreamin', Egg-head. I beat you every time. [Turns to Classic Sonic] No, seriously, we beat him every time. Our score card's flawless.

Eggman's still mad about his defeat, but the line "I recalibrated everything!" makes it more specific. He put all this work into the engineering side of his latest scheme and got tunnel vision, thinking if he got his creations just right there'd be no way he could lose. "This was supposed to be my time!" also turns it into a time travel pun, which is a bonus. He's still pitching a fit over losing, but it feels more like Eggman pitching a fit, rather than sounding childish.

And then instead of saying that beating Eggman is "like his job or something," Sonic says he's got a flawless score card against Eggman. He doesn't take Eggman seriously as a threat—at least, not to his face. He acts like it's all a game. But he conveys this in a way that feels truer to the character, rather than feeling like the words of a real world observer poking fun at the tropes of the Sonic series.

Is this amazing, A+ dialogue that blows me away? No. Again, it's not a completely different scene from the one we already had. Ian had to fit the beats of what was already there. He couldn't go all out and write an all new story confirming his longstanding headcanon that the Time Eater is a remnant of Solaris or whatever. But the wording here makes the existing story land a little better and feel truer to the characters in subtle ways.

But to me, the main change is that the Sonics and Tailses seem to have a more solid understanding of what's going on with the timeline and the Time Eater, compared to how idiotic they sometimes seemed in the original game. Which is good! No more standing outside Green Hill and wondering why it seems so familiar. Thank god. As part of this, yes, there are a few more references to past games in the dialogue, like Sonic briefly being confused about the fact that they're time traveling without the Time Stones, or South Island and Westside Island being acknowledged as the normal locations of Green Hill and Chemical Plant. Yes, ha ha, insert joke about how Ian loves references here. Look, it's Sonic fucking Generations. It's a game built entirely out of nostalgic references. Just own it! And, again, in this instance Sonic and Tails come off as less stupid when they make it clear that they do, in fact, remember their adventures from presumably less than a year ago in-universe.

Eggman, too, seems to have a better understanding of the powers he's toying with. Where in the original vesion his focus was simply on going back in time to undo his previous defeats and he seemed kind of oblivious to how much the Time Eater was actually fucking up the universe, here Eggman says he wants to use the Time Eater to give himself complete control over the entire timeline. Eggman also makes way fewer references to his own failures and shortcomings. Of course he won't admit that Sonic has defeated him time and time again. To him, he's never truly lost—Sonic just keeps delaying the inevitable total victory for the Eggman Empire.

So, yes. The new Sonic Generations script is better. It won't blow anyone away, but it's better than it was. It's been elevated from "kinda lame" to "fine." No, if you really wanna see Ian flex his ability to breathe new life into old Sonic stories, look no further than...

Gerald Robotnik's Journal

Hoo boy.

The story of what happened aboard the ARK has always been... a bit confusing, to say the least. Fans with encyclopedic knowledge of the script for every route of Shadow '05 may disagree, but it's the truth. We've had all the pieces to understand the story for a long time now, but that info was given to us out of order by a pair of unreliable narrators—Gerald, who became a vengeful lunatic shortly before his death, and Shadow, who was subjected to multiple rounds of amnesia and altered memories. Some of the ambiguity left by Sonic Adventure 2 was cleared up in Shadow '05, but that game also retconned in a bunch of new elements to Shadow's backstory (aliens!) that lead to further confusion. Not to mention the fact that that game had multiple routes and only revealed the truth about Shadow if you sat on the ultimate final boss battle for WAY longer than the fight would normally last. Or the fact that Sonic X made its own tweaks in its telling of the story. Or the fact that none of these things ever had the best English translations. I can't blame anyone who hasn't played those games in two decades for not remembering the truth about these characters and getting some details mixed up.

What we needed was something to piece together all of the info we have into one coherent backstory, told in chronological order. And thanks to Shadow Generations, we have that, in the form of an official journal tying together what we knew from Sonic Adventure 2, Shadow '05, and Sonic Battle into the tragic tale of Gerald's rise and fall.

Ian Flynn was the perfect man for the job here as the guy who started his career by tidying up the mess that was the first 159 issues if Archie Sonic. This is what he excels at: taking disparate bits of weird Sonic lore from multiple different sources, boiling them down to their most interesting elements, and connecting it together in a way that will make the audience see the dramatic potential he's always known was there. Rather than feeling like a cynical exercise in franchise building, going back and explaining things that never needed explaining so that people can add more bullet points to the wiki, he puts a new spin on things that retroactively enriches those past stories. The story here means something to the characters involved and gives us a better understanding of them as people, rather than as plot devices to motivate Shadow.

(And, of course, Ian didn't do this journal alone. He wrote the story, but I also have to give a huge shout out to Evan Stanley, who made the final product. All of her handwritten journal entries, sketches, and "photos" included throughout. The physical damage done to the journal over the course of 50 tumultuous years, passing from Gerald to Eggman to a certain special someone at GUN. The way Gerald's handwriting gets less and less legible as his mental state declines. So much love was put into what could have been a mere text dump in a menu, and it really elevates it to the next level. Congrats on officially getting hired by Sega, Evan, you've sure as hell earned it!)

The main idea the journal conveys is that Gerald was under a lot of pressure from a lot of different parties—GUN, the President, his colleagues aboard the ARK, Black Doom, even his own family—and boy did it get to him. The known incidents aboard the ARK mentioned in previous games are put together here to form a story where everything slowly spirals out of control as Gerald keeps compromising his morals to further his research, thinking he'll eventually find some way out of all this because he's a genius. I won't recap that whole story here (if you haven't already played the game and read the journal entries, I would highly recommend at least reading it on the Sonic wiki), but I'd like to highlight my favorite elements of the story, as Ian tells it here.

1) The Eclipse Cannon

Here's something that never quite made sense in Sonic Adventure 2: why does the ARK have a laser that can blow up the Earth built into it? It was supposed to be a peaceful research colony. Sure, Gerald went crazy and swore revenge on the Earth, but, like... when did he have an opportunity to go back up to the ARK and modify it? Did he have someone else do it? How? The ARK was raided by GUN and shut down! And then they arrested him, held him in prison for an unclear period of time, and executed him by firing squad when he was no longer useful! It doesn't add up. Shadow 'the Hedgehog '05 would give its own answer by introducing the Black Arms and saying that the Eclipse Cannon was always supposed to be a secret trump card against the Black Comet. But, like... we know that's kind of a bullshit answer, right? You don't need enough power to blow up a whole planet just to destroy a comet.

Well, the new journal retains what we already knew, but it paints a much more complete picture.

See, long before Gerald ever made a Faustian bargain with Black Doom, he had already made one with an even greater evil: the military. GUN gave Gerald much of the funding for the ARK, Gerald's personal utopian research station in space, but it didn't take long for GUN to start pressuring him to design them weapons. Gerald tried to get GUN off his back by personally contacting the President of the United Federation, and the President gave him an alternative: how about, instead, you just use your genius brain to figure out the secret to immortality for us, so our soldiers can be immortal? Gerald was initially sickened by the notion and found it completely absurd, like chasing a shadow... but given no other option, the sarcastically named Project Shadow soon began in earnest. (Maria would later put a more positive spin on the name after Shadow's awakening, pointing out that a Shadow can show us the direction of the light, like she says in the game itself.)

Of course, this search for the ultimate life form didn't go very well, and without any results on that front GUN kept hounding him for weapons. Gerald would throw them a bone here and there to get them off his back. His research on Chaos resulted in the Artifical Chaos prototypes, which he worried would be used for warfare but could at least theoretically be used for search and rescue missions in floods, in his mind. But that wasn't enough. So he gave them Chaos Drives to power their mechs. And that still wasn't enough. He's got Emerl. He'll give them Emerl. They're not impressed by Emerl. They'll shut the whole ARK down if Gerald doesn't give them something big.

Fine! GUN wants something big? Gerald builds a huge fucking laser cannon into the ARK. However, as a middle finger to GUN, Gerald makes it so powerful that it would destroy the Earth if it was ever fired at any target on its surface. In other words, GUN now has their ultimate weapon of mass destruction, fulfilling his contract, but they can never actually use it. Oh, the delicious irony. (And also Shadow will blow up the Black Comet with it in 50 years yada yada yada.) Is this perhaps extremely shortsighted and naive of Gerald, to believe that such a weapon would never actually be used just because of the risk? Of course. But hey, that's Gerald for you. And I love this as an answer.

(Also, this, uh, kinda echoes something from real life! Remember the bit in Oppenheimer where he says all nuclear war will become unthinkable, and Edward Teller responds "until somebody builds a bigger bomb"? Yeah, Teller went on to conceptualize a superweapon codenamed Project Sundial that would have been able to kill all life on the planet, as the ultimate deterrent for war. This was never made for obvious reasons, but hey, there's a basis for this sort of thinking outside of heightened sci-fi! There's a whole Kurzgesagt video about this if you're interested.)

2) The Biolizard

The Biolizard is, of course, brought up as the initial failed prototype of the ultimate life form, from before Gerald met Black Doom. We don't really learn all that much about it that we didn't already know, but I just love the way it's framed in the story.

As you can see above, we actually get to see a picture of Maria holding up the cute little salamander that would end up mutating into the Biolizard through Gerald's experiments. (Researchers want to figure out how to replicate salamanders' regenerative abilities for humans in real life, too, so this was a natural starting point for the project.) And then, after it grows to a monstrous size and goes out of control, Gerald has to lock it away in an unused sector of the ARK. He needs to keep the poor thing alive for his research into harnessing Chaos Energy, building life support systems directly into it, but he doesn't have the heart to tell Maria what happened. So it just becomes this first dark secret weighing on his conscience. The Biolizard becomes Gerald's Tell-Tale Heart beating beneath the floorboards of the ARK. I love that.

3) Lost Impact was the breaking point for the ARK

Remember the level Lost Impact in Shadow '05? The flashback level on the hero path where Shadow is running around fighting Artificial Chaos enemies on the ARK 50 years ago? Yeah, that wasn't just a random incident. That was important, as we now know due to its placement on the timeline.

See, Emerl's rampage aboard the ARK that was chronicled in Sonic Battle and Dark Beginnings set off a domino effect. Emerl riled up the Artificial Chaos, causing Gerald to lose control of them. They became violent, and so Shadow had to stop them, as depicted in Lost Impact. The thing is, that incident sent an SOS signal to GUN telling them that shit was going down on the ARK. Gerald didsn't fully understand the trouble he was in and assumed that he'd simply be reprimanded by the higher ups, or maybe face legal action. But, well... the next time he heard from GUN, armed troopers were raiding the ARK.

So Lost Impact was the straw that broke the camel's back. I just really like that detail.

4) Maria

And, of course, there's Maria herself. Maria has often been more of a symbol than a character, this perfect embodiment of everything that's good and pure in this world who gets killed to motivate Shadow and Gerald's revenge plots. But I really like the wrinkles this journal adds to her and Gerald's story, and their relationship. This is the most fleshed out they've ever felt.

For one, the journal leans into the idea of Maria's intellectual potential. The rest of the Robotnik family is all geniuses, after all, and she was proving to be a really bright kid. She excelled in her studies on the ARK, and she even helped design Shadow's jet skates and inhibitor rings. When Maria died, the world didn't just lose a symbolic personification of purity. She genuinely could have been a hugely influential scientist who did so much good for the world. That's what Gerald wanted for her. But we'll never know, because GUN killed her.

Speaking of her family, their presence isn't just mentioned for the sake of fleshing out the Robotnik family tree. It's mentioned that as Gerald struggled to find a cure for Maria's illness through his genetic research, he faced mounting pressure from his family. They didn't want Maria to be up on the ARK forever. They wanted Gerald to hurry up and find a damn cure, or otherwise just send her back home to Earth so she could be with her family again. She'd been up on the ARK for so long that Gerald's coworkers started thinking that she had been born up there. Eventually she gains a baby sister on Earth who she's never met. A rift forms between Gerald's two sons, and he's unable to really deal with it because he's so consumed by his work. There's this sense that the family is falling apart, and that everyone is dreading the possibility that Gerald will never find a cure and that Maria will just spend her final years up in space and die far away from her family, because Gerald just couldn't let go. If that happens, it'll break the whole family. But he can't stop now. So he just keeps working. Curing Maria is the only way to win his family back, in his eyes. It can't all be for nothing.

But my favorite detail regarding Maria is this one paragraph:

Maria is growing into a lovely young woman. It breaks my heart that someone as bright and energetic as her is diminished by disease. There are no visible effects, and I've caught my fellow researchers muttering to each other, doubting her illness. It is infuriating. I find all my reason and restraint vanishes when she's slighted.

This is SUCH a great addition to the story! It's always been true that Maria doesn't really seem all that ill, just looking at her in cutscenes. With this one little comment, Ian flips that issue on its head and turns it into a story about invisible disability. She doesn't act like she's in chronic pain, so she must not be, everyone thinks. And this really, really gets to Gerald, as does the pressure from his family. He's dedicating his whole LIFE to saving her, and they think she's faking it?! It's such a small addition, never referenced elsewhere in the journal, but it adds so much flavor to the story, as does the implied family drama. It grounds Gerald and Maria and makes them feel more like real human beings, rather than being pure archetypes. It's just enough info to let my imagination run wild filling in the blanks.

You also get the feeling that Maria being such a walking ray of sunshine was the only real source of joy Gerald had left in his life before Shadow was awakened, and the only thing keeping him from snapping under pressure sooner. All this stuff just keeps piling on, everything's spiraling out of control, but at least Maria is keeping her chin up, right? It makes so much sense that losing her would make him go off the deep end when it's framed like this.

It's just... man, I never thought I'd care so much about Gerald and Maria. But that's the Ian Flynn touch. After years of less than stellar Sonic writing that seemed to be embarrassed of itself, I'm so happy to have new games coming out that fully embrace the history of the series like this, making its world feel so rich and real instead of just serving as an excuse for a string of platforming levels. I don't even like Shadow '05, but I'll be damned if Ian and the rest of Sonic Team didn't make something amazing by "yes, and"-ing Shadow's cringe past here. Sonic has truly reached levels of "we're so back" never thought possible.

[nanaslutt]

HATE SEX WITH GETO PLEASE 😭😭🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾

contains: fem reader, spanking, choking, manhandling, hate fucking, rough sex, dirty talk, cheating, spanking, bathroom sex, angst w/ no comfort, proceed with caution :3

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Just thinking about hate sex with ex-boyfriend Geto. You received a video from an unknown number a couple months ago of your boyfriend at the club, big arms slung around two pretty girls as one ground on him under the flashing lights and blaring music of the club. The video was short, but it was all you needed to see. You forwarded the video to Geto, captioned with the words, "fuck you."

The night he went out he told you he was having a guy's night out with Gojo, so imagine your surprise when you woke up to him acting like a whore in public. You still did never find out who sent you that video. Geto spent days blowing up your phone, using your mutual friends to try and talk to you, even going as far to show up to your house, but you rejected all of his advances.

After about a month and a half, when things had calmed down and it was evident to the both of you that your relationship was well over, you finally started going out again. The reason it took you so long? The two of you were in the same friend group. There's a reason they say to date outside of your circle, for situations exactly like this.

Your big debut back into your circle of friends was a night out clubbing. Gojo, Shoko, Utahime, and Nanami were sitting on the plush cushions around you. The only reason you agreed to go out with them tonight was because Shoko had promised Geto wouldn't be there, saying he was stuck at work. Truthfully though, Shoko had missed you so much in the group outings, that she would've found a way to drag you out of the house even if Geto was going to be there.

"This is nice, I'll admit. I missed you guys." You said, working on your second cocktail of the night. Drinks always tasted better when Gojo paid. "Awww~ I don't know how you went so long without seeing me, honestly~" Gojo teased, ruffling your hair in the process. You swatted his hand away, fixing your hair while you shot him a nasty side-eye. "Us, he meant US." Utahime corrected, placing her hand on your knee while also shooting daggers at Gojo.

Gojo stuck out his tongue at Utahime, crossing his legs as he leaned back into the cushions, his arms spreading out behind you and Nanami on the top of the couch. "It's true though, it's nice having you here," Nanami added a light blush dusting on his face from how many drinks he had already downed; he must not have work tomorrow. "Thank you Nanami." you smiled at him before leaning back, crossing your legs over one another, your short black dress riding up your thighs slightly in the process.

"I've been so pent up all month, this feels so good." You giggled, tipping your head over as you directed your words to the girls. "Yeah? I know how you can feel even better." Shoko smirked, sipping on her straight vodka. Utahime smiled giddily, leaning her body forward in interest as she also waited for Shoko to speak. "Blondie over there at the bar has been eyeing you up since we got here, go talk to him." She nudged, wiggling her eyebrows at you.

You have been wound up in more ways than one since you and Geto had broken up. He always dicked you down so good, you would miss that. Who knows though, maybe blondie with the nice jawline and pretty face would give you good pipe in the bathroom. You eye him up, biting your lip as you dragged your eyes over his sturdy frame, only noticing he had been watching you oogle him like a slab of meat the whole time when you went to rake your eyes over his handsome face. He smiled, his dimples showing themselves as they dug into his cheeks, fuck he was hot. This was the perfect guy to use to get over Geto, screw that cheater.

"Oh shitt~ Look at them eye fucking each other~ Haha!" Gojo laughed, sipping on his sweet, non-alcoholic, bright pink drink. You turned your head to smirk at Gojo before you placed your hand on his shoulder and used it to push yourself off the seat. "You're really going for it?" Shoko asked incredulously, giggling behind your hand as you smoothed out your dress. "Why not? I'm horny and single, and a hot man is looking at me like I'm the hottest woman he's ever laid eyes on." You said, smiling down at your friends.

"That's because you are," Shoko added, grabbing your thigh for leverage she spun you around to face the man behind you sitting on the barstools, waiting for you to approach him. "I would be jealous If I liked men, he's a cutie." She laughed to Utahime as she watched you take a deep breath and walk off toward the man.

You walked through the club with confidence, a heartbeat already forming behind your panties as you got closer and closer, watching the way he eyed up your body as you walked. "Friends talked some sense into you, huh?" The man spoke when you got within ear shot. You took the seat next to him, plopping down on the barstool you spun the seat around to face him, your legs slotting together with one another as you placed your heel-clad feet on the bottom of his barstool.

His eyes darted down to your legs, watching you insert yourself into his space with confidence. "Too shy to come up to me yourself?" You asked, placing your hand on his knee as you rubbed circles against his pants, making him swallow the lump in his throat, feeling the heat rise to his face with how bold you were being. "You kidding? Those guys you're with are fucking repellent. Didn't know if you were with one of them or not." He laughed, taking a sip of his drink to ease his nerves.

"But you were watching me anyways?" You teased, keeping your eyes locked onto his. He took in a deep breath, pressing his lips together as before he spoke. "You have no idea what you look like, huh?" He asked, narrowing his eyes at you. "Who wouldn't be able to resist looking at someone like you?" His words sent shivers down your spine, you needed to get him in a bathroom stall with you hours ago. As the two of you continued flirting with one another, eyefucking each other as you sipped on your respective drinks, someone unexpected entered the club.

"Heyy." Geto's voice echoed into your friend's ears. The dark-haired man was half up, half down in his signature bun, one hand tucked into his pocket while his other was held up in front of him, waving to his friends. "Hey troublemaker~" Gojo smiled largely. Shoko groaned along with Utahime. "Thought you couldn't make it?" Nanami asked as he slid in next to him on the couch, spreading his long legs out on the cushions as he took Nanami's drink from him, taking a gulp.

"Got off early, thought I might come by." He responded, laughing when a drunk Nanami snatched his drink back from Geto, muttering to order his own drink. "Come by my ass, you work on the other side of town." Shoko laughed incredulously, adding that you were not going to be very happy. "She's here?" Geto asked, his demeanor immediately perking up. Shoko looked to Utahime knowingly before she looked back to Geto, hissing air in through her teeth.

"Yes cheater~ Of course she's here, and she's about to score by the looks of it." Shoko laughed, making Gojo whistle as he dragged his gaze to you, watching you pull your head back from the whispering something in the mans ear before his lips moved, head moving in tandem as you slid off of the barstool, taking his larger hand in his as you dragged him away from the seat, making him place his drink down on the bar top, abandoning it as you dragged him away to the bathroom.

Geto had just watched the entire scene unfold in front of him that the rest of them had seen. Of course, Geto had come here for you. Shoko was right, he worked almost half an hour away from the club, he was exhausted from work but when he saw you say in the group chat you were going to be here, he knew he had to make a detour. He knew he fucked up when he lied to you about going to the club, but truthfully he had done nothing more than let a couple girls fawn over him, grinding on him while they peppered kisses on his cheeks, never coming close to his mouth.

He still loved you, of course, he did, but you had been adamant about not seeing him at all for almost two months. He hadn't really given up, he would never give up on trying to get you back, he just figured maybe a little break and letting you calm down would lead you back to him. Clearly, he was wrong as he watched you maneuver your way through the crowd, dragging some man you met five minutes prior away to fuck, looking good as all hell.

He grits his teeth, pressing his feet firmly on the floor Geto was on the move in a heartbeat, no one could stop him. "Oh look what you did." Nanami huffed, looking at Shoko. "She's gonna be fucking pissed you know." Shoko's jaw was on the floor. She severely underestimated the amount of balls Suguru Geto had. "How the fuck was I supposed to know he was gonna go chase after her???" She said, looking at him with an expression that almost resembled horror, making Gojo laugh his ass off between them.

Once you made it to the secluded corner of the club just outside the bathrooms, you spun your body around, wrapping your arms around the man. "You wanna fuck me?" You whispered into his ear, feeling his large hands wrap around your waist, his knee sliding between your legs. He groaned at your words, staring between your lips and your pretty eyes as you bit your lip at him, "Fuck yeah, pretty girl." He smiled, shaking his head as he leaned in for a kiss.

You closed your eyes, waiting for a sensation against your lips that never came. Your eyes shot open when he yelled out an exasperated "Hey! What the fuck!" His lips loosened on your waist as he was dragged away from you by a strong grip on his hair. "Geto?!" You yelled, spinning your body to look at him, your body heating up with rage combined with the neglect of pleasure. "Who the fuck are you?!" The blond-haired man yelled, trying to grip Geto's wrist to make him release the hold he had on his hair.

"Her boyfriend." He deadpanned, throwing him in the direction of the club as he reached his hand over your head, pushing the door open behind you, forcing you into the small bathroom with his large frame, leaving you no time to refute. "I didn't know man, fuck!" The man's voice was cut off as the bathroom door shut behind the two of you, Geto's hand coming down to lock the door, leaving you alone in the personal bathroom.

"What the fuck are you doing?" You asked, shoving his chest back, Geto not even moving a muscle as his jaw muscles bulged out under the weight of his clenching teeth, his dark eyes watching you fume. "What the fuck were you doing?" Geto responded, walking toward you slowly, making you step back unconsciously, trying to keep some distance between the two of you. "Why is that any of your fucking business?" You spat, almost laughing at his audacity.

"We never officially broke up." Geto retorted, clenching his fists by his sides. "Oh! Oho!" You laughed, "Excuse me, allow me to make it official for you, we are fucking done." You dug your nail into his chest, squinting your eyes as you looked into his, your tall heels making you feel more confident as your height difference wasn't as dramatic now. "Thought I made it pretty fucking clear when I didn't respond to you for almost two months, but you always were pretty dense." You huffed, backing away from him once you got your point across.

"Were you just trying to get even with me? Huh? Thought fucking some random guy in the club like a slut would make you feel better about yourself?" He yelled, continuing to walk toward you until your back hit the wall, making you jolt, you hadn't even realized you were walking backward. "The fuck did you call me?" You asked, scrunching your eyebrows together. "You're such a fucking hypocrite, acting like that wasn't exactly what you did to me." You laughed again. You felt like you were going crazy, why was he acting like you were the one in the wrong here?

"I never fucked them! Never! Maybe if you answered my fucking calls or looked at my texts you would know that!" He shouted, getting in your face. You shook your head, looking at him with disdain. "Oh, because letting girls dry hump you is so much fucking better, right?" You yelled back, the ghost of a smile gracing your features, you were so done with him.

"God you really are the worst." You spat, your eyes shooting daggers into his own. "How the fuck are you gonna make up for scaring that guy off, huh?" You asked, tilting your head at him, making his eyes lock onto yours once more. Geto cocked his head at you, clearly uncomfortable with you mentioning the blonde stranger, knowing damn well you meant you were going to fuck him, and now you were left dry.

You scoffed, "What? Don't like the thought of me getting off on someone else's cock? Moaning someone else's name? Huh? That shit make you mad?" You got in his face, keeping your squinted eyes on his dark ones. Geto doesn't know what came over him, but he couldn't stand to hear you talk anymore. His lips were on yours, swallowing your surprised moans, immediately slipping his tongue into your mouth, crushing his jaw into yours, your head bumping into the wall behind you.

You were still mad as hell, but his lips felt so familiar, your arousal crept up through the cracks of your irritation and made you kiss him back harder, fighting him for dominance. His hand came to grab your throat, squeezing harshly, his fingers digging into your delicate skin, making you whine into the kiss. He was never this rough with you, and you were loving it.

He pulled back, his free hand coming down to undo his belt quickly, pulling the leather through the loops as he threw it somewhere on the floor of the filthy bathroom floor, "Don't you ever talk about someone else fucking you in front of me." He growled, squeezing your throat to emphasize his words, You smiled through the lack of oxygen, little black dots clouding your vision, but you still felt the need to fight back. "Fuck you." You whispered.

Geto spun you around in one swift movement, making you face the wall, your hands coming to brace against the brick as you felt him lift your skirt over the curve of your ass, your panties being roughly yanked down midway on your thighs. Everything was happening so quickly, the adrenaline pumping through your veins only fueling your arousal. You knew this was not a good idea, but your body was too weak to Geto.

Geto shook his head as his eyes came into contact with your dripping pussy. He bit his lip between his teeth, pulling his cock out through his pants as he gave himself a couple rough strokes, his hand sliding down to your ass as he rubbed his thumb through your folds, spreading them and rubbing your wetness around before he dipped the digit into your hole, slowly pumping in and out. He was absolutely fuming at the thought of you giving this to someone else, he wondered if you had in the time you haven't been talking.

"You this wet from that fucking loser, or from me yelling at you?" Geto asked, pulling his thumb back to leave a rough smirk on your ass, pushing his hips forward as he rubbed his tip along your folds, getting his cock slick with your juices. "You're so full of yourself, shoulda seen the way he was touching me under the table." You giggled, turning your head to the side to look at him. You kept your words vague on purpose to piss Geto off. He had been touching you under the table, but only your thigh.

"You fucking slut." Geto grit through his teeth, his hand coming to grip the back of your neck, his fingers pinching your skin with how hard he was gripping you. "And you still wanna fuck me." You laughed, the noise getting cut short when he pushed his cock into you all at once with zero warning, keeping his balls pressed to your ass as he let his cock throb inside your walls still, his back pressing agaisnt your chest as he leaned into your ear, his deep voice whispering, "That's enough out of you." His voice alone was enough to send shivers down your spine.

"Fuck!" you yelled when he pulled his hips back before he bullied his cock back into your unprepped walls, stretching you open as he meanly fucked you against the wall. "Shit- Think he could fuck you better than me? Huh?" Geto asked, leaning back as he pressed the back of your neck into the wall, his other hand holding under your hip as he held you in an arch, the pace of his hips making your knees squeeze together, bending slightly at the stimulation.

You brought one of your hands down between your thighs to rub little circles into your clit, your eyes crossing at the feeling. Geto must have felt how tight you got because he groaned through his teeth, his hand leaving your hip for a moment to come down to leave a harsh smack on your ass. "Fuck- I don't know, heh- If you didn't interrupt me I w-would've found out. He shook his head, smiling through the malice he felt coursing through his veins. "You're such a fucking brat." Smack, "Just sayin' that shit to get me worked up so I'll fuck you like the whore you are."

You wanted to hit him back every time he slapped your ass. Sure, it felt good, but you knew he was trying to put you in your place, so the action made a vein pop out on your forehead. You were so glad he couldn't see your face right now. Your words might've been sharp and snarky, but your face was flushed red and your eyes were rolling back in your head every time his fat cock thrust right against your sweet spot deep inside you, the one only he could reach. "I-I hate you-" You moaned out between his mean thrusts.

You heard him coo in response, his hand leaning the back of your neck so he could grip your waist with both hands and yank you back on his cock harder, fucking whines from your lips. "Don't talk to me like that baby, hurts my feelings~" Geto retorted, his jaw dropping in a small o when you rubbed your clit harder at his words, making your hole clench around him so tightly it felt like you were trying to milk him of all he was worth.

"Would you really be squeezing me this tight if you hated me? Hmm?" He teased, practically slamming your ass back on his pelvis, loud squelching noises bouncing off the walls. Thank god you were in this loud-ass club or everyone would know exactly what was going on, not like you really cared. "Shut up and fuck m-me." You responded curtly, closing your eyes as you tried to focus on reaching your high, timing your finger rubbing circles against your clit with his thrusts inside you.

"That's what I'm doing, dumb s-slut." Geto groaned, dropping his gaze to where the two of you were connected, feeling a warmth in his stomach bloom at the white ring of cum that had formed around the base of his dick. "Godd pussy is fucking milking me- you cant survive without me, need me- need this dick." Geto spoke between rough thrusts, his own words working himself up as he felt his high creep over him.

You grit your teeth at his words, moans spilling from your lips without your permission. He was fucking the shit out of you, you don't think he's ever been so rough before. His words, his hips, his hands, all of it, so fucking rough, and it was quickly working you up to your orgasm. You were too overwhelmed, tears started forming in your eyes with all of the stimulation and emotion you were feeling. He was hammering into your g-spot, making your legs shake uncontrollably.

"God- fuck- Gonna make me cum inside my pussy, my fucking pussy-" Geto babbled, shaking his head as he tried to get a peek at your face, noticing how you had bitten your lip between your teeth, tears streaming down your face. "Fuck, you crying? Feels that good?" He laughed. You didn't want him to know how good you were feeling, didn't want him to know his words were true; you couldn't live without him or his dick. His cock alone was literally fucking tears out of your eyes, it was so intense.

"Not gonna speak huh? Fine, stay quiet then." Your ex-boyfriend huffed, looking down at your pussy stretched around his girth as he fucked himself to his orgasm, you close behind him. "Shit- shit I'm coming- take it baby fu-ck~" Geto groaned, leaning over your back, burring his face into your neck. You felt his teeth dig into your neck when you felt the first rope of his warm seed shoot inside you, making your orgasm crash over you.

The two of you rode your highs out together, Geto's hips weakly and unceremoniously thrusting into your sopping cunt, working you through your orgasms. Geto jerked against your body, his strong hands wrapping around your torso as he kept you pressed against him, unloading his cum into your abused pussy. You whimpered into the wall, feeling his teeth leave your neck when he started coming down from his high, his face keeping its place in your neck.

The two of you stayed quiet for a while, relishing in the silence save for the dull booming of the club music echoing through the walls of the bathroom. Geto's hands were petting the skin of your hips, and for just a moment, you let yourself think everything was okay, losing yourself in the feeling; until he spoke. "I am sorry you know. So fucking sorry." He whispered into your neck, not daring to move.

You heaved out a sigh, pushing his arms off of you. You reached behind you and pushed his pelvis back, wincing in overstimulation when his softened cock slid out of your walls, his cum chasing after him, making your face scrunch at the uncomfortable feeling. "That wasn't what this was." You responded coldly. Bending down you pulled your panties up, keeping his cum snug inside you.

You turned around to watch him open your mouth, to which you held your hand up, stopping him; amazed when he actually listened. You pushed past him, bumping his shoulder in the process. Without another word, you unlocked the bathroom door and on shaky legs, left the small room and out into the nightclub to find Shoko and Utahime and get the hell out of there. Geto sighed deeply, tipping his head back as he stared at the ceiling before he closed his eyes, feeling the remorse wash over him, "fuck."

[cursedcola]

Prompt: Couples will evidently begin to mimic their better half after some time. What traits do you steal from him, and vice versa? Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Characters: Everyone - because I want to and I’m amidst fleshing out all my Yuu/Character dynamics + designs Format: Headcannons. Masterlist: LinkedUP Parts: Heartslabyul | Savanaclaw | Octavinelle (Here) | Scarabia | Pomefiore | Ignihyde | Diasomnia A/N: Putting all my brain rot from my notes into something cohesive. Contrary to my love for ripping your hearts out, I've come with some fluff this time around. BTW you may or may not already do things mentioned - I write my works with a specific Yuu in mind for each character so this is based on them. Just a reminder.

Habits You Steal:

Bargaining (Inherited AND Developed): No partner of Azul's is a shmuck. Not because of his standards (a little bit), but because you will learn to negotiate through trial and error. Being his pearl does not exclude you from daily verbal tango. He can and will still come after Ramshackle if given the opportunity. What? Just come stay in Octavinelle. He won't even charge for it, and you can bring Grim. He is always three steps ahead. Buying him a present is like the world's most daunting task, because he somehow already knows what's inside the box. Every. Time. Even if you shop a year in advance. Don't even start with arguments. He has a rebuttal for EVERYTHING. There is never a winner, only a settlement because he is so stubborn (and you equally so. Pride is contagious). As adults you're constantly exposed to business deals and sometimes have to deal with handling negotiations. Not to mention people with grudges against Azul attempting to shmooze their way through you. Only to find that you are just as manipulative.

"Pearl, Jade says that our deal with the Bas triplets for the next semester has been renewed? I hadn't scheduled their extension meeting until the first Saturday of next month. Would you have anything to say on this?" <- Long story short, the triplets tracked you down to beg for help in getting out of their work contract with Azul. He was always fair, and they entered willingly. No corruption on his part...but they were hell bent on not working in the kitchens with Floyd anymore. Solution? You managed to shmooze an extra week on their terms, in exchange for not being put on Floyd's shift anymore. Azul is so proud - but don't do that again. You're the one telling Floyd he doesn't get to play 'spot the difference' with the triplets anymore. Not him.

Smell Sensitivity (Developed): Nothing shanks the nostrils like sea brine. No pun intended. Lingering around Octavinelle equates to constantly smelling fish. Most students there come from the coral sea and don't mind it. Others only stop in for a quick bite to eat, and don't stay a moment more. The Mostro Lounge just has a potent smell that can't be found anywhere else. Like McDonald's french fries...but fish. Grim loves it, you now get nauseated when a scented candle is lit.

"Must you pinch your nose? Think of my- Octavinelle's reputation for a moment" <- Azul is brewing a scent masking potion as we speak. You're really hitting his pride here, even if you can't help it.

Glasses Wipes (Developed): Octopunk heats up when you so much as touch him in public. Then his glasses get foggy. If you wear makeup, its smears on his skin (to which he acts unbothered, but we all know it's a ruse). He obviously carries a hankey but having some wipes on hand is a nice gesture. Unnecessary, but sweet-ish.

Refined Pallet (Inherited): The cup ramen and foraged greens just do not cut it anymore. Not when Azul's made a VIP menu over at the lounge just for you. Sure, the place has a variety of options but he'll always get Floyd to cook up whatever you're in the mood for. At a discount (since Grim can eat him out of pocket). Have you ever had 100% dark, sea-salt chocolate imported from the coral sea? Ever tasted it in a rich devil's cake, baked fresh with only the best ingredients? Betty Crocker, who???

"I must say, your diet could still use some work - do not look at me that way. The twins found your hidden stash of instant noodles during our 'occupation' at Ramshackle. Under the stairs, pearl? Really? When was the last time your sodium was checked?"

Aversion to Sea Food (Developed): You will never understand how the Coral Sea students are okay with the Mostro Lounge. Neither what was running through Azul's head when he decided to open a SEA FOOD restaurant. Honestly? Red flag. One you ignored, but still a red flag. The existence of merpeople and therianthropes is still new and novel to you. To each their own, but you can't eat any sea creatures knowing that it could be - no, it can't be? Floyd's always joking that Azul is tasty but...it's just a joke, right?

"As much as Floyd loves to special make your chicken strips with wedges...why do you never order from the public menu? I assure you, Mostro Lounge is supplied with only the highest quality - h-huh? What crazy thoughts are you having?! Honestly!" <- This explains so much. He always thought you stared at the food with envy, because Grim would eat your pocket out and leave you to sip on lemon water. He had to force the special 'vip' meals down your throat at the start. is this why you're so uncomfortable having lunch with Floyd and his weekly Takoyaki binge?

Appraisal (Developed): Ever see those shows where a professional goes around to antique markets, and can point out forgeries, fake gems, etc. by eye? That is Azul. He's a collector of gadgets and gizmos aplenty - anyway. Strolls through antique marts, coin collecting showcases, and other marketing events will undoubtably train the eye over time. No scammer will ever shmooze ya out of house and home. Sorry Sam.

Habits He Steals:

Jacket (Developed): Mermen run cold. The uniform blazer Azul dons is more-so just for show than anything. Clothes are overall a novel concept, since most in the coral sea dress minimalistic (or not at all). The lounge runs quite chilly as well. Not enough to deter customers, but the perfect temperature to get uncomfortable after a few hours. Now Azul has many jealous bones in his body, and would rather drop dead than see one of the leech twins loan out their blazer so you can nap in the back room (they're doing it on purpose). Azul often offers his coat out to you the moment you walk inside - so often, that all the part-time workers know if you're on lot if he's walking without it.

"I need my jacket back, please. Why? N-no particular reason. Do I need an excuse to wear my own clothes?" <- Ruggie - Mostro Lounge's most reliable and simultaneously difficult part timer, mind you - was the first to pick up the correlation. If the VIP lounge was shut, and Azul was out doing quality rounds? It meant you were in the back, and he was in a better mood. The perfect time to sneak a platter unnoticed. Azul must take precautions.

Snitches Get Stitches (Developed): ONE perk of living with ghosts. Honey you get ALL the tea on campus. You just need to butter them up with a game of pranks and it’s ripe for the taking. Now, who do you think is going to make full use of this? Azul. They won’t give it to him directly because it’s more fun to make him frustrated. Which means he has to go through you. *Which means* he gets very crafty in buttering you up for details.

Midnight Hour (Developed): This mainly applies to his adult years. Wherever he goes - business or otherwise - you come with more often than not. As a youth his dealings were important - yes. Yet he was still getting his swimming legs in business and his primary demographic was students. Contrary to his pride, Azul wasn't someone important. Someone actually worth targeting like the Briar Prince. The real world is much more risky. You can help with negotiations and running facilities. You might 'think' he is tossing you into the end zone with all his ambitions...but no. Any dealings with high-stake confrontations are handled only after midnight.

"Two-o-clock in the am hours. That is the latest I can offer - well, it seems we've reached an impasse. This deal clearly is not worth my effort, if such 'accommodations' are beyond your capabilities. Allow one of my partners to escort you off the premises." <- Let's make one thing clear. No contract is ever worth putting you at risk. One twin (usually Jade) will remain at his side, the other (Floyd...because he's honestly not the best for negotiations. More guard dog material, and has fun hanging out with you) back with at the house/hotel. Azul doesn't trust 'anyone', and the Leech family is obviously in business with him. He takes no chances, screw probability, and can't kill the inner control-nerd in him. He's never out past three-am and would rather you feel a bit left out then dead somewhere in the Stillwater.

Land Legs (Developed): Considering he will be on land more for the foreseeable future, Azul puts more effort to building his land legs. Not that he wasn't trying before, but there wasn't any guarantee that he'd be working the land beyond NRC. So with the reassurance that 'something' (someone) will require his attention on shore, he decides to invest the effort. Azul will not get on one of those flying deathtraps past academy years though. He's getting a license and pulling up in a new Bugatti.

Pictures (Inherited): Much to Azul's chagrin, you love photos. Maybe it's because you have little to recall from your own world. Maybe it's because you're in the photography club. Maybe it's because you love his misery - but you are always taking photos. At first he insisted that you never get him in the frame. He hates them. Still does, do not misunderstand...and the idea of someone having so many with him included eats him up. Yet his insistent denials do lessen, and he tolerates them. You cannot post them anywhere. Yet...he will only 'mildly' grimace when looking at them around your house. Only because who the heck is coming over that he hasn't approved of?

"This picture? Ah...that is my dear pearl. They are breathtaking, are they not? I truly am the most fortunate man alive. Ah. My apologies, let's return to discussing the contract terms. May I see your completed punch-card?" <- And because you're in them too. As a youth, he kept your photo on his desk in the lounge. Sometimes a client would ask about you, and he'd lapse for a moment before folding the frame down and out of their view. He'd tuck it away whenever you came around, but would talk to it when alone. About his day, his work, whatever first year came crying because Floyd used them as a dart board - and dare I say that he'd keep a family photo in your later years together. Azul hates pictures of himself, but not as much as he loves ones of you. Look at him. Big softie.

—

"Of course. I have remarkable potential as an instructor, do I not? Is it not a great fortune to have me as one's partner? Take this as a lesson that your boss can influence even the most lost souls." == Azul shows no reservation. The moment he caught two part-timers gossiping about your 'conversion' to the 'dark side'. Why, he was positively beaming. His grin wide with a touch of something sinister. Gossip is fine, but they should know better than to do so in his den. Anything noteworthy would undoubtably reach his ears with time, but oh was it a joy to watch them squirm. Honestly. They're fortunate that he's in such a good mood - what was intended to be slandering has just made his day. They're still getting put on shift with Floyd though. He's merciful, yet no martyr.

Habits you steal:

Foraging (Inherited): You are always looking around for plants to propagandize. It's like stealing but not - because Crowley doesn't have any 'rules' about it so...heh. Free food. Jade's a living encyclopedia when it comes to botany and agriculture. He's the whole reason you've got a mini apothecary going in the kitchen and that instant-noodle stash got amped up in flavor. What? you ever add some fresh mushrooms and green onions to that instant chicken yakisoba? Mwah. The mountain lover's club needs to look out, 'cause the Ramshackle Prefect is about to bleed campus dry for every last specimen.

Yapping (Developed): Spinning off the above 'route'. Many people think Floyd's the talkative twin. Nah. This motherf*cker does NOT shut up. He treats you like his second conscience, asking questions he doesn't expect to be answered and giving commentary like your own personal narrator. Who needs thoughts when he literally says everything before you can think it? Floyd salutes you - 'cause finally. Finally, it isn't him subjected to Jade's inner spiels. Sorry Shrimpy, you are a sacrifice he's willing to make. If you ever break up or fight with Jade - Floyd's going to hunt you down - he can never go back. Never.

On a side note, you're an excellent listener now.

Tea (Inherited): Do you hate tea? No you don't. Not Jade's tea. There isn't much to comment on here, other than you will develop a taste for his Atlantic Twice-Seeped Water-Lily brew. You'll be craving it every night if ever sent back to our world (as if that'll happen). Mixed with honey from the Afterglow Savannah and served in a baby-blue ceramic cup that has a shimmer handle. That's your mug, by the way. He has other brews...some improvised and caution is indeed extended. They're tasty for the most part though.

“Ah, just smell that aroma. I developed this blend made just for you, my dear. I’m not one to seek out sweet floral notes for my tea, yet this flavor is an acquired taste that pulls you in for more. I finish the cup without realizing each time” -> Jade can be sweet himself, when he wants to be.

Wearing gloves (Developed): Jade makes you touch weird shit. All the time. Unprompted. He also makes you eat weird shit, but more often than not you can escape by shoveling his experiments onto someone he can get a more interesting reaction out of. Classically condition him not to feed you the weird shit by being unresponsive - off topic. Point is that with his obscene collection of terrariums? Plus being pulled along for foraging quests? You will be touching unknown and possibly poisonous plants, bugs, dirt, maybe some aquatic creatures like toads and fish. For all that is good, keep a pack of rubber gloves in your schoolbag. Keep a pair of insulated leather gloves in your breast pocket at all times too. Hand Sanitizer as well. Who knows when you’ll be elbow deep in murky water riddled with mysterious rainbow moss. What makes it rainbow? You don’t know and Jade won’t say. He does quip that it changes colors with emotions. Screw Twisted Wonderland and it’s freakish botany.

“Oh my, would you look at that vibrant shade of purple. Why are you so frightened? These are meant to be happy ‘bonding’ times for us as a couple, isn’t that what you said? Fufu - oh. Hurry up and put it in this jar. You’ll ruin the sample at this pace,” <- In truth, Jade saw red blooming at the edges of the moss and called quits before your nerves turned to anger. Fear? Amusing. Especially since you have more harmful ‘house plants’ growing on the mantle back at your dorm. Curtesy of Jade himself, of course. Azul doesn’t let him store his more precarious collection in Octavinelle and what you don’t know won’t hurt you. Yet he won’t push the jokes too far, since so few ever come out foraging with him. No no. He needs you to continue as a willing participant. Don’t get angry at him just yet, there are still so many places to explore and the day is young!

Doppelgänger Paranoia (Developed): The Leech twins tried to pull that shit where they swapped places for a day. Therefore you are now freakishly paranoid of Floyd trying to take Jade’s place to pull a prank. It is no help that Floyd is insanely good at mimicking his brother and vice versa. Sure, you could make a keyword or ask Jade to wear something special as a give away. Mark him. Maybe make an excuse of it being a thing human couples do and stick a pin on his lapel. Yet there isn’t a guarantee that he won’t just let Floyd in on it to see what happens. He’s a jerk like that, but your jerk nonetheless.

“Your caution is entertaining, and I do find all this extra attention flattering. Yet there are more taxing worries to mull over, wouldn’t you agree? Surely I’ve earned enough trust to circumvent any doubts in that mind of yours?” -> Do you know that the twin-swap was just a one time trick? Probably not. Doing it again would be boring with no novel results, but Jade does love watching you squirm with suspicion. He’ll offer an assurance eventually, and it will be your call to believe him or not. Until then? He has no problem being under your watchful eye. It’s quite cute, after all.

Habits he steals:

Grammar Control (Developed): Purely to piss you off. Coming from another world - your dialect isn't exactly the same as everyone in Twisted Wonderland. There are region specific languages, and then there is the common tongue. For simplicities sake, let's just say that everyone in TWST can speak common tongue and transferring over gave you this ability. Except (like Epel) you carry a heavy accent - and Jade loves to play grammar police. Your irritation never ceases to amuse him. That's right. He's the train kid from the 'Polar Express'. Just less nasal.

“Let’s try to capture that illusive letter ‘R’, shall we? You don’t want to give onlookers any more ammunition as a respectable prefect.”-> Says the only person using this as ammunition, except for Ace when he gets really snappy and Riddle’s mild cringe when your accent butchers a toast at the Unbirthday party. At this point you’re hearing ‘red leather, yellow leather’ and ‘mark went on a lark after dark’ in your sleep.

Routes (Developed): Another one with the need to have a bit of control. Just a bit. Get ready to roll out of bed at the ass-crack of dawn, because he will be there at five-am sharp to haul you back to Octavinelle (or on a hike. Saturday's only). Isn't it a human custom to stick close to your partner? He's just making sure you're cared for. Which is why you exist attached to his hip most days

Symbiosis 1 (Developed): Only a mild-note for Jade. His brother, noted below, takes this concept more to heart. Jade uses it as an enhancing factor to an already “well-rounded” relationship. The law of the sea dictates that those stronger will enter a ‘pact’ with weaker creatures - protection in exchange for care. You are not in need of protection with that frosh posse and stubborn head of yours. Jade mostly uses this ‘symbiotic relationship’ as a way to get you to do things for him, and to talk down your impulsive behaviors from time to time. Aka you won’t create excessive trouble if it means he feels ‘bound’ to go with (as if he wouldn’t be overjoyed to get in some chaos)

Observation (Developed?): Jade...knows everything about you. It's infuriating (to you, not him), but you are still a potential client regardless of his personal interest. Hobbies, tastes, your worst and best subject, weaknesses -all categorized. Azul and his business come first. Yet you're the only student on campus that has a 'doctored' file. Why?

“I never realized you are adverse to crowds. Yet you handle navigating Night Raven with no difficulties? Is this a mere preference, or would you prefer to find somewhere quiet while I accompany the others? What do you need?” -> (During Playful Land Event) He can't get the finer details without asking questions. There is no source for information about your world or your person other than your word of mouth. His unique magic would be easy - but it's just one question. One, and you might be too resilient for a response. Where's the fun? What makes this a habit is that Jade's keen eye becomes sharper.

Ramshackle (Developed): Bro just moved in. I’m serious. He got permission by pulling a favor. Azul doesn’t let him keep the more precarious plants in Octavinelle, so Jade has overtaken the kitchen with potted flora and fungi. Floyd is enthusiastic that he doesn't have to share a room - what? Twins don't always stick together. Those two probably fight more than they get along. Plus with Jade at Ramshackle it's an excuse to go see what's up with Shrimpy and maybe play with torture the little freshies you hang around with. It’s chapter three but you aren't booted out and have to deal with both Leeches every day. Seven preserve you.

—

“I let my excitement get the better of me for a moment…please, continue as if I am not here. My apologies.” == How rare for Jade’s mask to slip in front of his underclassmen. He was able to brush it off - giving a fib about his clubs upcoming excursion (not entirely untrue. He is excited to go for a hike with you this weekend). Yet the normally dull gossip of his dorm-mates was too much to bare. Not because your changes are becoming more pronounced, but because these little fish are foolish enough to think it’s making him soft. Enough to gossip so blatantly in his earshot? Gods, they make his job much too easy.

Habits you steal:

Leering (Inherited): Floyd...oh dear. He has this habit of staring holes into the back of your head. Anyone's head, really. His presence is intimidating, and it's hard not to pick up what’s going on in his head. There's a catch to this though. You only leer at other people when he isn't around. Too busy with the man in question to bother 'people-watching' (unless you're actually pissed). Riddle is constantly on edge now because he has TWO people giving him the heebee-jeebies. Prefect, it was bad enough you were taking influence from ADeuce. Now the Leech brothers? Well, he'd still take you over Floyd any day. At least you won't try to act on that unsettling aura...yet.

“Somethin’ on my face?…why’re you staring at me like that? Unless you want my attention? Hehe, ya shoulda just said so!” <- Floyd can do it to you, but you can’t to him. Not unless you want to be suplexed and squished tightly for hours on end.

Impulse actions (Inherited): Chaotic energy anyone? Floyd needs a partner who is one of two things - can kick his ass on occasion so he'll play nice, or who will match his freak. Since matching the strength of a Moray Eel isn't something most humans can do? Well, maybe a bitch slap here or there but be aware he is letting it happen. Just know. Better be playful too, not no actual challenge. Point being- you need to match his freak. No buzz-kills.

“Ne Ne~ Yanno, I’ve never seen those super fancy fireworks you land people like to set off. Wanna go get some and rig the - eh? You already got them?….Hahaha Shrimpy’s getting gutsy. I’m so happy” -> His eyes are practically glowing with anticipation. You’re now Azul's third headache 1000%, someone get that man an Asprin.

Snacks (Developed): Floyd can EAT. The only one with a stronger appetite is Jade, but he has a better control over his hunger. While their bodies changed to look human, their appetites did not decrease. Going with ‘symbiosis,’ Floyd gets a bit needy and talks like you’re his internal clock. Jade’s the yapper but Floyd just expects you to know what he needs. So you will always be carrying a selection of snacks (Grim gets in on this) in your bag/purse. Also fidget toys. Not for eating, but to give him when you’re stuck anywhere particularly boring. Props if you can somehow get a two-in-one with the twisted wonderland equivalent of those Air Heads Pull-Aparts.

Lullaby and Goodnight (Developed) : Instant calming effect. Merfolk are very particular with music and are sensitive to vocals. Floyd in particular is super picky. You could be the worst singer on the planet (Floyd will give you half-assed lip for it if you are, in all fairness) but the easiest way to calm him down is with music. It’s cringey and unrealistic to us land-folk but there’s plenty of singing in Atlantica. So humming a soft lullaby for him while sitting together won’t earn any looks in Octavinelle. Unless you sound awful, to which he will punt anyone that speaks out. Not that they would, since a calm Floyd is a godsend no matter the means achieved.

“Did I say you could listen in, hah? Sounds to me like someone’s in the mood for ‘my’ kinda song….don’t move, Shrimpy. This’ll be quick.” <- Good or bad - doesn’t matter. Getting to hear you is Floyd’s privilege. He’s a bit possessive of it, to be frank. So if someone butts in when he’s in the middle of calming down, Floyd’s going to be pissed to the max.

The Little Mermaid (Inherited): Drags you down to the sea at every opportunity. Don’t fight him, just guzzle the vomit-inducing potion and get a move on. Floyd doesn’t care how much a mer-transfiguration potion costs, Azul can take care of it. Floyd hates being restrained to dry land, and hey. He’s up here, so it’s only fair you go down into the sea trenches too. Don’t worry, he won’t take you anywhere too dangerous. He’ll even teach you how to get your sea legs - fish legs? Look. He teaches you how to swim in your mer-form, which he is severely disappointed does not resemble a shrimp.

Habits he steals:

Phone Privileges (Developed) : Floyd’s cellphone is normally in DND mode at all times. The only exceptions are Azul and his Momma - Jade was one too up until they came to dry land. There’s only so many mushroom photos and long voicemails about random crap that Floyd can take. Oh - and you’re an exception now. He saves all your voicemails - some for callbacks to win arguments and others to play when he’s about to sleep. You just better be careful when you call him and what for, also always pick up if he calls you. Otherwise there’s going to be one angry eel lurking by your bedroom window. With ‘first-contact’ privileges, all the unflattering candid pics he has of you are just a click away from being shared if he feels like it (teases but wouldn’t do it. Well, unless you really are ignoring him. Be warned)

Using F*cking Doors(Inherited) : Yes. Yes, you read that right. Floyd loves to parkour across campus. The amount of times he’s snuck into Ramshackle through that tiny circle window in the attic is frustrating. You’re seriously considering bolting the thing shut if it keeps him off the roof and on the ground. Y’know, for someone who can’t fly a broom? He sure has no problem climbing brick walls with his bare hands like some kinda cockroach. A Leech cockroach. Jamil’s worst nightmare good god. After the sixth-or-so heart attack, Floyd’s not allowed anywhere near Ramshackle if it’s not through the front door. The ghosts have strict instructions to punt him…to which he took as a challenge (because of course he did). Until a window was smashed, and you sent hellfire down upon him.

“I said it was an’ accident! What more do you want from me, huh? It’s your fault anyway for sicking those ghost fish on me - Urk…fiiine. I’m sorry or whatever” <- Always will back down the moment you come across as genuinely pissed. Usually with a grunt and hiss under his breath, kicking his foot before stalking off to cool down for a bit. Always fixes whatever he broke or tries to make amends once his mood is less sour.

Symbiosis II (Developed): Paired with the above 'match his freak' and second rendition of Jade's. Except Floyd is 100% serious. Floyd's going to do right by you, but you've got to do right by him. People are going to wonder why the small-pint prefect is sitting here covering one of bro's shifts (they feared for your life when you basically told him to 'fuck off', knowing he was angry after getting scolded by Azul) but that's how it is. Floyd's symbiosis is different than Jade's. He's more impulsive, yet also more predictable with what he needs. The definition of "no one can tell me to do shit except my spouse" 'cause symbiosis is a mutual respect and trade. No one can pick on you except for him. No one can help you the way he does. He is not going anywhere. Ever. Bonded for life - that kind of ‘sappy shit’.

"I already said I don't wanna... ughhh, babysitting those frosh fishies is so booooring. Can't we just ask Azul to lock 'em in a tank or somethin'?.... ALRIGHT, Little Shrimpy. I get it already so stop yammering in my ear...." <- Floyd's the softer brother, if you can believe that. Acts of service are what get him and he thrives on being needed. So you'll be doing it a lot to earn that compliance from him. Be the iron fist that gets him to back down, and simultaneously the one slipping him a few party poppers to set off at one of Heartslabyul's tea-parties as a reward.

The ✨Fashion✨ (Developed) : Surface-world fashion is one of Floyd’s special interests. Oddly enough? You’re a perfectly-sized dress up doll. It’s cute how large his shoes are in comparison to your feet. Hah! You look like a clown clobbering around in those things. He 100% gives you a pair of light up sneakers that sparkle when you walk - makes it easier to find you in crowds. Not that he needs to. Mostly it’s just for fun. He’ll even get a matching pair so you don’t feel zeroed out.

VIP Menu (Developed) : Floyd has a ‘secret’ menu over at the Mostro Lounge. He’s the head cook, don’t ya know? Makes real tasty dishes. C’mon, praise him. He’ll add a few dishes just for you since you’re so picky - that’s a bad trait to have for a broke Shrimp by the way. Good thing he’s around to make sure you’re eating.

“Oi! I told ya that was for you. If the lil’ seal’s hungry he can get somethin’ off the menu on his own…unless he’s lookin’ for a squeeze?” <- One major gripe Floyd has with Grim is how he’s always mooching off your plate. It’s fine if Azul’s picky with his food, cause that’s Azul. You’re different ‘cause in Floyd’s mind responsible for you. Again. He takes the symbiosis thing more seriously than Jade, and will poke your cheek relentlessly and comment if it’s lost it’s squish. He always serves you something to eat, even if you don’t order. Doesn’t let anyone else prepare it either.

Protective (Developed) : At the risk of sounding like a broken record, Floyd is very attentive. He’s clingy as hell and always looking for an excuse to have a good tussle - you’re his favorite person to screw with. Yet only himself, Azul, and Jade get the green card to look at you with anything other than respect. Cause he knows they don’t mean it - and even your little freshman buddies don’t get a pass. Maybe the seal since Floyd could squish Grim like a grape and he knows it. Leona’s almost gotten many challenges for the whole ‘herbivore’ thing.

—

“ ‘s nice, right? What’s better than one of me? Two, hah! Jade might have my face but now Shrimpy’s got my personality” == Finds the situation funny for like, an hour? Maybe two? Doesn’t matter because ‘Shrimpy is Shrimpy’ - plain as that, really. He gets more joy out of teasing people when they find out you’re with him. As if Floyd gives two sh*ts what other people think? Nah.