#his hopes.... his dreams... all to be shattered so soon!

[zorostitties]

Aurora; 1 (m)

⤕ Your existence had been an endless night, where shadows whispered long forgotten secrets. Trapped in a golden cage, your fragile mind and shattered memories were chains that kept you from dreaming of freedom. Then, he appeared with the first light of dawn, like a gentle sun warming your cold skin. In his gaze, the promise of a new beginning; in his presence, the sunrise your soul had longed for.

In which Alucard saves you from Erzsebet.

pairing: alucard (castlevania) x (f) reader

genre: angst, romance, eventual smut

warnings: violence/blood, explicit language, mental health issues, grief, physical abuse.

rating: 18+

word count: 5k

A/N: i made a post some days ago complaining that there weren't enough alucard fics on tumblr. because of that, a demon possessed me to write this story. i hope you'll like it so i can continue writing the next parts lmao ❤️ feedback is always MUCH appreciated! and, as usual, english is not my first language.

⤕  Chapters: soon! ⤕ Also on AO3

Before they gave you a name, they taught you the three simple rules for survival.

Don’t scream. Don’t cry. Don’t fight.

Those rules weren’t taught using words. You learned them as they were engraved on your skin, repeatedly. Night after night. Day after day. Teeth sinking on your neck sending shockwaves of pure pain through your body. Jaws so tight around your jugular that you couldn’t breathe anymore; made you desperately grasp for air in vain. The suction noise. You hated that noise. It was coming from you. The liquid dripping from your wound, warm and sticky, gluing your dress to your skin. The smell of iron. Pain pain pain pain pain. The intense headache that followed. The darkened vision, the dizziness. Your limbs losing all of their strength.

Then - pitch black unconsciousness.

You might’ve fought the first time it happened… or the first times. It is hard to remember. You struggled. You tried to push her away. You tried to punch her, claw her face, pull her hair. And that’s when you learned the don’t fight rule. Every time you put up some sort of resistance, she’d crush you with ten times more strength. You learned, very quickly, that having your blood sucked off wasn’t the worst she or her servants could do. You learned it after broken bones and pierced organs. You learned it after ripped teeth and hair.

You learned that she took pleasure in it.

She liked to see tears streaming down your face. She rejoiced every time you begged her to just let you die.

So, you learned. Don’t scream. Don’t cry.

If you stood still, if you offered no resistance, if you just let her have her way - it would be over quicker. You learned that your blood was valuable to her. You learned that not many things were valuable to her… but your blood, for some reason, was - even though you’d see her feeding from other girls as well.

However, you also learned that all these other victims would simply die after she fed off them. Not only her victims; the members of her entourage’s victims as well. They’d get pale and lifeless very quickly. They’d get thrown away after they stopped moving, their cheeks hollow and eyes rolled back.

You learned that you weren’t like them. For some reason, you always woke up the next day as if nothing happened. Cheeks still full. Skin still colored. Heart still beating.

Perhaps… perhaps that’s what made you valuable.

So you behaved.

They gave you a bed after a while. She realized that your blood tasted better if you were well fed, so the meals got more elaborate over time. She started complimenting you. She’d make you wear the most beautiful gowns. She’d make you sit by her side, silently, as she held her numerous balls. Her guests - her subjects - would bow after her, pledge loyalty, kiss her feet. Sometimes she accepted their words. Sometimes she killed them on the spot.

You’d sit there for hours, avoiding eye contact with anyone. Her abnormally tall figure projected a shadow over you. The sound of her voice made your skin crawl. Her smell made you want to vomit.

Still, you’d behave.

She’d turn to you after she was bored of talking or sick of feeding from other girls. Her hands were bigger than anyone you’ve ever seen; her claws, as sharp as an eagle’s. Her grip on you seemed to weigh tons.

With somewhat delicacy, she touched the necklace they made you wear that night. A huge ruby stone sitting over your collarbones.

“Ruby,” she said almost in a purr. “The same color of your delicious blood.”

A shiver ran down your spine.

“It sounds like a fitting name, My Queen.” The woman that never left her side commented. Her most loyal servant.

She chuckled, passing the tip of her tongue on her fangs.

“Indeed.”

That night, they gave you a name.

Jaw tightened around your jugular. No air. Pain pain pain pain pain. You didn’t fight back. You squeezed your eyes shut, tears falling silently down your cheeks. Headache. Dizziness.

And then - darkness.

***

“My sister, the moon, burns brightly tonight. She’s very excited, of course.”

The full moon, indeed, lightened the entire scenery, painting it in a gorgeous silver color. It reflected on Erszebet’s golden armor with a hauntingly beautiful glow. A soft breeze played with her white skirt as she gesticulated in her speech. She sounded tired, a calculated tone of hatred in her voice, as she explained in detail the revenge she’d take on her “father”, Amun-Ra.

You scanned the new place with your eyes. A vast garden expanded ahead. What did Drolta say…? Oh, yes. France was the name of the country you’ve arrived after weeks of travel. Although the night was chilly, it was still much warmer than Erzsebet’s home, which was always covered in meters of snow. At least thirty cloaked vampires waited in line for their Messiah’s arrival, being leaded by Drolta, of course.

In the moments your brain was working with somewhat lucidity, you heard conversations about some revolution. It was hard to make much sense of what they meant exactly, for anytime they had “important” conversations with you around, you’d be usually with an open wound on your neck trying to fight the overwhelming weakness and pain. They had the care to not let you be near while you were fully conscious. During the day as most of the Messiah’s court (and herself) slept, you were locked in your quarters. You were allowed to walk out only when Erzsebet needed to feed.

You didn’t understand exactly what they meant by that - in fact, you didn’t understand much of anything at all. You didn’t know why these vampires considered Erzsebet their queen; you didn’t understand why she considered herself a queen - no, she considered herself a goddess. You didn’t know what they meant by “crushing the revolution”, and you didn’t understand what you were doing in France.

Most importantly - you didn’t understand exactly what was their interest in you.

The obvious part: you seemed to be Erzsebet’s infinite source of blood and court jester, as the fact that she could break you in every way and you’d still wake up as if nothing happened the next morning entertained her. However… she didn’t need you. The Vampire Messiah had girls being fed to her daily. It’s not as if she was going through a blood shortage anytime soon. And… it seemed that she also had immense pleasure in simply killing - something she could not achieve with you.

So why keep you around? Why keep you locked with guards holding you at all times? Why drag you along anywhere she went?

There weren’t many moments in which your mind was clear - and in those small moments, such questions screamed in your mind relentlessly. Just… just why?

Why is any of this happening?

Your mind snapped back to reality the moment you heard a new strange sound. You lifted your head to see a big golden cage being brought closer to Erzsebet.

A frightened young girl locked inside it.

The sight didn’t shock you. Yet, you couldn’t help but feel a sting of sadness.

“Daughter of a revolutionary deputy. Member of the Jacobin club.” Drolta introduced maliciously as she opened the cage with the help of her clutch. A servant dragged the brown haired girl out of the cage. You watched in solemn silence as Erzsebet floated out of her chariot.

For a moment, the girl made eye contact with you. She immediately recognized your human features. Maybe, for a split second, she might’ve found some comfort in your image, finally seeing someone like her. Her eyes begged for an explanation; begged for help.

But there was nothing you could do.

You looked down again, not wanting to see Erzsebet sinking her fangs in the young girl’s neck. Silently, you apologized for being somewhat relieved that she was there. Erszebet would leave you alone until she got satisfied of her new victim.

As the sound of her strangled whimpers filled the area, Drolta approached you.

You never got used to it - how vampires could move unnervingly fast. You had barely realized she was standing by your side when you felt her hands hold your waist on both sides, taking you off the horse back as if you were a toddler, and putting you on your feet.

She smirked.

Goosebumps crawled your skin.

Erszebet was cruel, irritating, violent and loud. You knew that very well. Yet… perhaps the fact that you knew she was incapable of actually killing you made you somewhat anesthetized of her presence.

Drolta, however, actually scared you.

She wasn’t loud or reckless, she didn’t act on her instincts like her master. No… she was calculated. It seemed that her eyes were always over everything, like she knew what anyone would do before they even moved. There was something truly ominous deep within her pink eyes. Much smarter than Erszebet. In a way, much crueler.

She caressed your cheek with the back of her fingers.

“Rejoice, Ruby. You have a very important task ahead of you.” She said in what sounded like a purr before dragging you towards a carriage.

Oh.

You… actually knew what she meant already. A memory from not long ago - or was it long ago? - came; the last time you were required to do this… task. And once more, you hated the fact that your memory was so weak, how you couldn’t recall things that should be important, should be essential. Deep down, you knew your real name wasn’t “Ruby”. You knew you might’ve had a past… maybe even a family. Yet, any time you tried to tap on these memories, nothing came. Just frustrating emptiness.

There was actually a third reason for Erzsebet to keep you around and close. A valid reason.

And it filled you with unfathomable remorse.

***

The chateau was a magnificent place.

You didn’t have time to explore any of it, of course – you were immediately dragged into a room as soon as the entourage arrived, mere hours before sunrise. Still, you had time to see the exquisite gardens that decorated the entrance, the river that seemed to isolate it from the rest of the world. The interior of the chateau was just as mesmerizing. Opulence radiated from every corner, with golden arabesques and crystal chandeliers.

Your room was no less impressive. The bed, big and comfortable; it was a relief to sleep on a soft surface after weeks of uncomfortable travel. The towering windows faced the back gardens and the reflective pools of the water fountains. It was even equipped with a marble bathtub.

Nothing but a golden cage. You were locked in. Two guards stood outside the doors at all times. The door only opened to deliver food three times a day and to clean the latrine.

It was… tranquil.

It had been two… three…? days since you arrived. You couldn’t be sure. In the meantime, your presence was not requested – which made you question if that same poor girl was still alive or if they’d found someone else to entertain Erzsebet. It was a relief. Truly. You didn’t have many opportunities to stay awake and sane for such a long period.

You heard music and voices coming from downstairs, meaning they had a ball at some point. From the peek of the curtains, you saw that the chateau always very busy at night. Yes, it was tranquil – but all that movement filled you with constant apprehension. A strange heaviness in your gut that didn’t let you have a peaceful sleep. Something was going to happen. Something big.

The awful feeling in your gut only got worse when, in the middle of the night, a handful of maids entered your room without warning.

They washed you without any care. They perfumed your body. They brushed and styled your hair with intricate braids that curled at the top of your head in somewhat of a bun. They applied rouge to your lips. They dressed you in a jaw-dropping, beautiful blue gown; as dark as the night sky, embroidered with silver silk lines that seemed to imitate stars peppering around the skirt. The corset was tight but not uncomfortable. It was actually a much lighter dress than the ones you used to wear back at Erzsebet’s country, given how much more pleasant the temperature in France was.

Erzsebet loved luxury. She loved jewels, diamonds, gold, beautiful dresses; she did not allow anyone to appear anything but perfect anywhere near her, as ugliness displeased her eyes. She loved the theatrics of it. That is why, as you looked at the absolutely gorgeous image of yourself in the mirror, the only thing you felt was disgust. Perfectly well put, devoid of any personality trait. Just the way Her Magnificence liked it.

And that… that fucking ruby necklace sitting over your collarbones. It seemed to burn your skin. She demanded you to always wear it.

Your personal collar.

That night, Drolta herself came to escort you.

The woman wore a black gown made of what looked like leather. You saw her reflection on the mirror and shivered, not having noticed she had entered the room at all.

That same vicious smile adorned her features. She stepped closer, putting her hands over your shoulders, and looked straight to your eyes through the mirror.

“Beautiful as always, Ruby.” You hated that name. You hated the way she said it. Almost a mockery. “You know what you have to do, right?”

You gulped and nodded as your suspicions were confirmed. Drolta rolled her eyes.

“Did you unlearn how to speak? It has been ages since I last heard the sound of your voice.” But she didn’t give you time to answer, dragging you out of the room by the arm instead. The two cloaked guards followed shortly. “You should be proud of yourself, Ruby. Being able to help Her Magnificence is the greatest honor of all. You do know you are the only human she allows in her court, right?”

Oh, what a great honor. You felt your fingers beginning to shake as you approached the ceremonies hall, hearing the sound of multiple voices fast approaching.

It was, indeed, crowded.

The curtains covered all of the windows, since it was early in the morning; the sun reigned in the sky. Some vampires wore the typical black cloaks and some wore aristocratic attires. Quiet conversation filled the great hall. There was an air of expectation and excitement. It only made your guts twist more.

Not many paid attention to your arrival – their queen kept their attention locked on her, standing near the guard rail on the double stairs. You recognized some faces from Erzsebet’s palace; some were completely new. A few sent you the usual looks of thirst upon the realization that you were human. You tried not to make eye contact with anyone.

However, your eyes locked with one of the new faces down there very briefly. A brown-skinned man, wearing a luxurious purple attire. His long black hair fell to right side of his face, adorning his beautiful features. His green eyes didn’t hold any thirst or malice like the others. He just looked… curious. Astute. You quickly averted your eyes somewhere else.

Just to spot another face – and this time, the sting of sadness in your heart came back.

It was… it was that girl from before.

She wore a white gown – but the collar of the corset was tainted with her own blood. She had very visible open wounds on both sides of her neck. Standing by the stairs, she barely had the strength to support her own weight; her once olive skin now looked unhealthily pale.

You gulped.

Watching her in that state was like seeing yourself. Except this girl was going to die. Very soon.

How was she still alive?

The vampire kept dragging you by the arm, seemingly not noticing your apparent shock. When you passed by the girl on your way up the stairs, she recognized you again – and, once more, sent you a gaze that seemed to scream for help.

That was worse than a punch in the gut.

Drolta made you stop some steps away from Erzsebet. The Vampire Messiah did not bother to look back at you; as you already knew, she was preparing herself to what was about to come. Behind you, an obelisk with inscriptions and engravings was placed. Another cloaked servant approached. He carried a heavy, ancient book on his hands; its cover was made of black old leather, and although it was fading away due to the book’s apparent antique, you could see the outline of an image of the moon on it.

Drolta took the book in her arms, opening it on a specific page, and handed it to you.

“It is time.” She said with a voice filled of pride. “Take your part on the rise of Her Magnificence, and you may have our eternal gratitude.”

You didn’t want their eternal gratitude.

But that’s not what made you hesitate.

After looking at the book, your fragile memories came back with more clarity. You… you did this ritual twice before. You couldn’t tell how long ago. After it was over, you were locked back to your cell as usual, you didn’t exactly see what happened next – but you didn’t really need to see anything to understand the gravity of what it caused.

Even inside your room, you remembered feeling the stench of rotten human flesh for days.

Just… how many people must’ve died?

At this point, you were resigned to being hurt. You didn’t really see any point in trying to escape the claws of those two supernaturally powerful vampires – it’d only bring you more pain. But one thing was getting hurt... another was getting others hurt because of you. You didn’t want to be the harbinger of death again. Whatever they were planning, you didn’t want to participate.

So you froze in place. Sweat dripped down your temples. Your heartbeat increased.

“What… what are you going to do?” you asked, mustering the courage to speak in a quiet voice.

Drolta wasn’t smiling anymore.

She stepped closer, towering over your. Her eyes burned with contempt and cruelty. She brought her lips close to your ear, not to draw unwanted attention.

“Horrible timing to decide to be brave, darling.” She hissed. “Do what you’re told or she’ll face the consequences.”

She grabbed your face by the cheeks and forced your head towards the stairs.

The girl in white stood there, watching everything with frightened eyes.

You gasped.

Shehadnoticed.

Drolta chuckled.

“We know we can hurt you as we please, dear Ruby… but her? How much do you think she can handle?” You felt the warm press of her lips on your cheek. “Will you condemn her to a slow, horrid death in the name of your bravery?” She whispered, her voice dripping with mockery.

Your breath came shaky and difficult. The room seemed to blur for a second. You knew she wasn’t bluffing. She never did.

Slowly, you took the book from her hands.

Drolta released you with a satisfied grin. She patted the top of your head.

“Good girl.”

She stepped aside.

Your fingers were shaking. The book was heavy. It smelled of mold.

You sat down on the cool marble floor directly behind Erzsebet, the long skirt cascading around your body. You placed the book in front of you. The paper was yellowed and frail; it might rip off if you touched it. The pages had no images, only text handwritten in red ink.

You didn’t understand the words written. However, for some reason, you could read them clearly, although it sounded like nothing to you. You closed your eyes tightly, silently apologizing again for what you were about to do.

Erzsebet raised her head.

It was your sign.

You started to read the enchantment.

Your voice was nothing but a whisper. As the unknown words left your mouth, an already familiar feeling of disgust grew. You didn’t know what those words meant, but something deep within you – inside that darkened part of your brain where your memories must’ve been hidden – knew you were saying something blasphemous, hideous, something that went against your very nature.

Erzsebet seemed to fall into a trance when she heard those words. She inhaled them – the spell – as if they were smoke. Something as heavy as iron weighed over the hall, making all the spectators apprehensive. The tall, red-haired vampire started to gesticulate with wide, almost dance-like movements.

There was a crack in the air in front of her. Then, as she gesticulated, an orb of pure black and white energy materialized. The spectators gasped in awe.

Her movements became more frantic. The orb grew larger. You kept reading, feeling your throat going dry, your body getting weaker with each word. It’s as if Erzsebet was not only absorbing your words, but also your strength. Your eyes blurred with tears which you blinked rapidly to dissipate.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please, forgive me.

The eclipse started.

Slowly, a shadow made its way to cover the moon.

More gasps of awe.

Forgive me.

“Behold, the Devourer of Light!” Drolta announced with pride and admiration. Erzsebet laughed.

Please, forgive me. I’m sorry.

The curtains were dragged. The windows were opened with a gust of wind. The vampires rejoiced.

You gasped for air.

The enchantment was over. There was no more strength in your body.

You covered your face with your hand, not daring to raise your eyes and see the horde of vampires flying free through the windows. You didn’t pay attention to whomever took you back to your room and locked you there. You didn’t have enough energy to get up from the carpet.

For the first time in days, you closed your eyes and slept - hoping to never wake up again and face the horrors you helped unleash in the world.

***

There was something wrong.

You felt it in the air. A heavy tension. A strange silence.

That was not what you expected after the eclipse. Usually, what followed was a celebration of the conquer, a banquet filled with hundreds of victims upon whom the vampires feasted. Laughter, music, screams of agony, the horrible stench of blood and carcasses.

But now, it was… eerie.

With your body aching from sleeping on the floor, you glued your head to the door in hopes of getting a clue of what might’ve happened. All you heard were fast steps and shushed whispers. You noticed something was definitely wrong as hours went by and no one came to bring you breakfast.

Is it possible that Erzsebet’s plan – whatever it was – went wrong?

These thoughts churned in your mind as you took off the jewelry, undid the tight hairstyle and took off the under layers of skirt that made the dress puffier. Who could possibly go against Erzsebet or Drolta? At this point, your only memories were of being surrounded by vampires. The few humans you met didn’t last that long. You’ve been around them for long enough to understand that most vampires were only slightly stronger and faster than humans. It wasn’t easy or quick to become powerful – and the Vampire Messiah had some fairly powerful servants under her command. In fact, you didn’t think anyone could be more powerful than Drolta. Erzsebet could summon an eclipse, but she didn’t seem to be as experienced in battle as her right hand woman.

As far as your suspicions went, you could be sure that, unfortunately, the insufferable red-haired vampire wasn’t defeated. There were still guards outside your doors. Whatever happened, it wasn’t enough to stop her from accomplishing her… plan.

Sitting in front of the dressing table while you untied one of the braids in your head, you looked at yourself in the mirror. Without the rouge, the jewelry, the neat hairstyle. You were just a shell of a woman, really. Whenever you had enough time to really think about your life – in those brief moments when you weren’t in the brink of unconsciousness or fighting against the pain –, the only thing you could feel was… frustration. It wasn’t even sadness or hatred, only plain frustration. You knew there was something wrong with your head. You knew that immense void in your memory couldn’t be normal. Still, there was nothing you could do about it. They never gave you time to think, to maybe plan an escape strategy. But even if you did – how could you actually run away? You didn’t have the strength to face a vampire head on, even the “weak” ones. And you knew the types of punishment you’d be put through if you were caught.

You always healed, yes. But it didn’t make the pain less painful. Drolta could be very creative in her ways of ensuring your utter submission.

In the end, you were reminded of why you always chose to sleep through most of your sanity. While awake, you were constantly reminded of your current situation and your inability to change it. At least while you slept, you had… peace.

The clock on the wall hit noon. Your stomach was empty, yet you didn’t know if you wanted to eat.

That’s when you caught something with the corner of your eye.

It was quick and silent – barely a flap of wings. You turned your head in time to see a strange mass of black materializing in your room, passing through the breach of the window.

Your eyes widened. Your heart jumped.

That mass took the form of a man.

Your immediate feeling was fear. That was, very clearly, a vampire. His skin was pale as now, just like his long hair, which cascaded over his broad shoulders. His eyes were hazel, almost golden; they seemed to glow faintly under the shadow cast over his face. He was tall. His attire was black from head to toe – boots, gloves, jacket, cape. He had a calm, yet ferocious expression – analytical, even – as his eyes locked onto yours. He held a long silver sword, its tip pointed directly at you.

The obvious threat in his position should frighten you even more. But that was not was you focused on.

Sunlight hit him through the windows, casting a halo on the back of his head. His hair shimmered with the glow of a million silver coins. It made him look… holy. Like the frescoes you had seen of the Christian God painted on the ceiling of a church Erzsebet once destroyed.

How… how could he…?

“You can come with me peacefully.” He said quietly. His voice was deep. Husky. He almost sounded… calm. But you wouldn’t let yourself be fooled by that; it was unyielding as stone. The stranger didn’t blink for a moment, his eyes tracking your every small movement like a tiger stalking its prey.

He was, in fact, not giving you a choice. The sword in his hand, unwavering and pointed at you, made that very clear.

Your breath got caught in your throat.

There were many things you could’ve said. You knew that man could and would hurt you if you moved too abruptly. Barely five seconds in his presence and you understood: like Drolta, he wasn’t one to bluff.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to feel more afraid, because as he spoke, you caught a glimpse of his fangs – and that other feeling grew stronger.

Curiosity.

“Y-You’re a vampire. How are you standing in the sunlight?” was all you could mutter in frightened amazement.

The stranger didn’t drop his threatening position, yet he tightened his eyes in a subtle sign of surprise. It seemed that your sudden question caught him off guard.

“Don’t you know who I am?” he asked, keeping the same tone. It was your turn to frown. You clasped your hands together, resting them over your legs, and shook your head. How and why would you know him?

“I’m afraid not, sir.”

He narrowed his eyes even more. It looked like he was searching for something, inspecting you with a new type of interest.

“I find it hard to believe that one of Erzsebet’s servants wouldn’t know of me by now.”

You gulped, tightening your own clasped hands.

“I… don’t know many things, sir.”

The stranger still watched you, in silence, for a few more seconds. It hit you in that moment the reason for his apparent confusion. He expected you to fight him.

Then, he straightened his position. You eyes widened with apprehension and shock when he let go of his long sword and it floated – the weapon stood with its hilt turned to the ceiling a few centimeters away from the floor, emitting an eerie metallic sound as it moved.

The men approached you. He was silent – so silent that, if you weren’t directly looking at him, you probably wouldn’t know someone was moving in the same room as you. As if he had dropped that ferocity, he sat down on the bed in front of you with a newly serene expression.

“I was rude in my approach. I apologize.” his voice mirrored the serenity of his face. “I am Alucard.”

Your breath got caught in your throat once more.

You didn’t know what was more shocking. His sudden change in behavior, his absolute calm while in enemy territory… or the fact that he was beautiful.

Again – you were more used to vampires than humans at this point. Every vampire had an uncanny beauty to them. They were attractive and scary at the same time. While you could see and sense very well that this man still represented danger… the “uncanny” aspect didn’t apply to him. He looked young (being a vampire, that didn’t mean much), a man of soft yet striking features.

Ethereal was the word you were looking for.

You noticed that he was paying attention if you were going to react to his name, which you didn’t. You also noticed that he was waiting for you to present yourself as well. Slow reactions. You weren’t used to talking.

“My name is…” your words trailed off.

For the first time, you averted your eyes from his, grabbing the blue fabric of your skirt in discomfort.

“They call me Ruby, sir.”

The man – Alucard – quirked one eyebrow slightly. “Is it not your real name?”

You sighed tiredly. “I don’t think so. No.”

Alucard hummed. His voice was so deep that it seemed to reverberate in your bones. He crossed his arms. “And do you have any idea of why I am here, Maybe-Ruby?”

The unexpected humorous way in which he called you caught you by surprise. Still, once more, you gulped, apprehension growing yet again.

“To… get revenge, I suppose?” The vampire looked genuinely confused for the first time. His quirked eyebrow was an unspoken question. It made you avoid his eyes once again, feeling a mix of anxiety and embarrassment. “For the eclipse.”

He went silent for some moments.

“Did you cause the eclipse?” You heard a sting of danger in his question that only made your heartbeat increase.

“I helped. Somehow.”

“Why?” He was growing more inquisitive.

“I didn’t have a choice, sir.” You blurted out nervously.

Alucard hummed yet again.

When he let out a tired sigh, you finally looked back at him again.

“To answer my previous question,” he said as he got up from the bed. “I came here to kidnap you. But it looks like I’m saving you, as Erzsebet seems to be as much of a threat to you.”

You gasped, widened you eyes.

He… he wanted to take you out of here?

The anxiety made your fingers shake. You felt nervous, excited, hopeful… scared. Hell, were you scared. How in the world would this man take you out of here alive? Floating sword or not, did he even stand a chance against Drolta?

“However, I will need your help in return, Ruby,” Alucard continued, now looking back at the windows. “I see you don’t know many things, but I’d appreciate if you made some effort. Now, let’s go. I’m already abusing the opportunity my associate gave me…”

“Wait.”

You grabbed his wrist in a desperate move.

Alucard looked at your hands, then at you – once again, confused and shocked.

You were shaking.

“Thank you for your help, sir. You are very kind.” you managed to blurt out somehow. “B-But I don’t think Erzsebet will ever let me go. She… she has very powerful servants. One of them, Drolta… she will hunt me to the ends of the earth. I don’t want you to get hurt because of me, sir.”

You didn’t dare to look up at him.

Perhaps you were being too emotive. You barely knew this man at all; what proof did you have that he wasn’t as cruel as the vampires that were keeping you imprisoned? But at least – and for the first time you could remember – he was somewhat kind to you. He didn’t offend you, didn’t physically hurt you… and that alone was much more than anyone had offered for as long as you knew.

Maybe he could get out of here safely. He wouldn’t have Erzsebet and her entourage hunting him down. Maybe he still had a chance-

Your train of thought derailed the moment you heard his… chuckle.

Your heart jumped within your chest the moment he, with much delicacy, put his own gloved hand over yours and squeezed it reassuringly.

You finally looked up.

Alucard had a small smile on his lips. It wasn’t one of the mean, mocking smirks you were used to. The suspicion disappeared from his eyes, his eyebrows were not longer tense. He looked… gentle. More than that… there was a glint of humor in his eyes, as if he found the situation funny.

The sun that streamed through the windows seemed to shine even brighter, surrounding his entire figure in golden glow that matched his eyes. Yes, he looked holy. Otherworldly.

“I won’t get hurt,” he assured with tenderness. “And neither will you.”

Time itself seemed to stop at that moment.

He didn’t boast about being all-powerful. And you realized that he didn’t need to. Underneath his gentle eyes, you saw unwavering confidence; quiet, motionless and imposing like a mountain. In a way, it was much more menacing than any of Erzsebet’s scandalous actions or bloodbaths.

And for the first time, such menace wasn’t directed at you. It was on your favor.

That was your chance. The only real chance you ever got as far as your frail memory knew. A chance of living in a world where you didn’t have to follow the three survival rules.

Don’t fight. Don’t scream. Don’t cry.

But you wanted to fight. You wanted to scream. You wanted to cry.

You wanted to live.

So when Alucard offered his hand, you took it and got up from the chair.

You didn’t need to say anything. The silver-haired vampire nodded with satisfaction as his sword companion floated closer to him.

“Let’s go.”

Then, you followed Alucard towards the sun – towards the dawn of a new life.

[h-ironosarchive]

›  in  response  to  𝐍𝐈𝐀𝐌𝐇  𝐒𝐍𝐎𝐖

the  more  zane  thought  about  it,  the  weirder  niamh  seemed.  was  a  necklace  that  important  at  this  specific  point  in  time?  did  the  scholar  not  realise  the  prize  he  had  in  front  of  him  at  the  moment  —  even  if  he  wasn't  aware  of  how  golden  of  a  prize  zane  actually  was?  “  well  …  i  don't  know,  perhaps  the  person  you  spoke  to  was  colourblind.  ”  zane  spoke,  the  ‘s’s  of  his  speech  slightly  slurred  due  to  his  alcohol  intake.  “  but  does  it  really  matter?  there's  …  much  more  entertaining  things  to  focus  on.  ”  he  added,  a  charming  smile  on  his  lips  as  he  leaned  in  closer  to  niamh,  though  quickly  having  his  mouth  covered  by  the  latter  as  he  went  on  about  the  necklace.

well  this  was  one  way  to  sober  him  up.

“  listen,  niamh  …  i  don't  know  about  any  necklaces  that  are  …  similar  to  the  depths  …  of  the  …  uhm  —  arctic  sea,  but  i  can  help  you  look  for  it  tomorrow.  if  you  wish  to  find  it,  then  it  shouldn't  be  that  hard  to  find.  myrithen's  not  as  big  as  you  may  think.  ”  he  spoke  mindlessly,  aiming  to  get  closer  to  niamh  and  getting  lost  with  the  way  he  unbuttoned  his  shirt,  and  then  buttoned  it  back  up.  did  he  not  know  how  to  do  it?  was  unbuttoning  a  shirt  that  hard?  this  seemed  as  if  it  was  going  nowhere.  should  he  take  his  pants  off,  or  something?  ‘  niamh  …  this  guy  really  is  weird.  ’,  zane  thought  to  himself,  cracking  himself  up  ever  so  slightly  with  his  own  inside  joke.  luckily  enough  for  him,  niamh  couldn't  read  thoughts,  or  else  their  night  would've  definitely  been  over. 

@10zenn

[extinctlesspains]

I really loved the salesman imagine.could you write one where the reader and the salesman had a romance.But he gives a card sending her to the games.Feeling and hurt and betrayed she does her best to survive and she ends up winning along with Gi-hun.now three years later the reader goes to visit Gi-Hun with her 2 year old daughter.(she had found out she was pregnant after the games)she walks in on Gi-hun and the salesman during Russian roulette 

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑔𝑜𝑛𝑒 [𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑆𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑚𝑎𝑛]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛᴇᴅ: ʏᴇs ᴏʀ ɴᴏ

☆ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴛʜᴇ sᴀʟᴇsᴍᴀɴ x ᴀғᴀʙ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

☆ ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: ᴀɴɢsᴛ

☆ sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴀ ᴡᴏᴍᴀɴ ʙᴇᴛʀᴀʏᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀʀᴍɪɴɢ sᴀʟᴇsᴍᴀɴ ᴡʜᴏ sᴇɴᴛ ʜᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴀᴅʟʏ ɢᴀᴍᴇs sᴜʀᴠɪᴠᴇs, ᴅɪsᴄᴏᴠᴇʀs sʜᴇ’s ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇʙᴜɪʟᴅs ʜᴇʀ ʟɪғᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜᴇʀ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ. ʏᴇᴀʀs ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ, sʜᴇ ᴄᴏɴғʀᴏɴᴛs ᴛʜᴇ sᴀʟᴇsᴍᴀɴ ᴅᴜʀɪɴɢ ᴀ ᴛᴇɴsᴇ ᴇɴᴄᴏᴜɴᴛᴇʀ ᴀᴛ ɢɪ-ʜᴜɴ’s ᴀᴘᴀʀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ, ᴄʜᴏᴏsɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ ʜᴇʀ ᴄʜɪʟᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ʜᴇʀ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ʜɪs ᴍᴀɴɪᴘᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs.

☆ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs: ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴄʏ, ᴋɪssɪɴɢ, ᴠɪʀɢɪɴɪᴛʏ ʟᴏss, ᴀʀɢᴜɪɴɢ, ᴄʀʏɪɴɢ, ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ɢᴜɴ ᴛᴀʟᴋ.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　

It all started with a simple game.

You’d been on your way home, drowning in stress and overdue bills, when a man in a sharp suit approached you at the train station.

“Care for a little fun?” he asked, holding up a red and blue envelope.

At first, you wanted to refuse. But his easy charm—and your desperation—drew you in. He explained the slap-match game, and soon you were caught in the strange, exhilarating rhythm of winning and losing. By the end, you were breathless, laughing despite the sting on your cheek.

“Not bad,” he said, handing over the cash with a smile that felt too warm, too genuine for a stranger.

You couldn’t stop thinking about him after that. When you ran into him again a few days later, he acted like it was coincidence.

“Maybe it’s fate,” he teased.

Soon, he was everywhere—buying you coffee, walking you home, and making your life feel just a little less heavy. He made you laugh, listened to your frustrations, and looked at you like you were the only person in the world.

One night, after weeks of growing closer, you found yourself in his arms. You’d invited him in after a long evening, your walls lowered by exhaustion and the warmth of his presence. You were full of ecstasy after that night. The way his lips kissed your neck, the way his thrusts were so sensual.

“You’re special, you know,” he murmured as his fingers traced lazy patterns on your back.

“Do you mean that?” you whispered, scared to hear the answer.

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”

His words were your undoing. That night, you let him see all of you—your fears, your flaws, and your dreams. For the first time in years, you felt safe.

The illusion shattered when he slid the card across the table.

“What’s this?” you asked, staring at the embossed logo. Circle, triangle, square.

“A chance to change your life,” he said, his tone eerily calm.

You frowned, a pit of unease forming in your stomach. “What kind of chance?”

“It’s a game,” he explained. “An opportunity to win enough money to solve all your problems.”

“Why are you giving me this?” Your voice wavered, the trust you’d built with him suddenly fragile.

“Because I care about you,” he said, his gaze steady.

His face softened, but he didn’t retract the card. “I believe in you, Y/n. More than you believe in yourself.”

His words felt like a betrayal wrapped in a compliment. Against your better judgment, you took the card, driven by desperation and the hope that maybe he was right.

The games were worse than you could have imagined.

Every death chipped away at your soul, and every betrayal reminded you of his. But you refused to break. Gi-hun became your lifeline, his determination and kindness pulling you through when you felt like giving up.

“We’re going to make it,” he promised one night, his voice steady. “We have to.”

You survived, but at a cost. The prize money felt like blood money, and the nightmares lingered long after the games ended.

A month later, you discovered the pregnancy.

At first, you were terrified. The thought of raising a child alone, of explaining where her father was and why he wasn’t around, felt overwhelming. But when you heard her heartbeat for the first time, everything changed.

You named her Hana, meaning “flower.” She became the anchor that kept you grounded, her laughter a reminder that there was still beauty in the world.

When she was born, you held her close, tears streaming down your face. “You’re my miracle,” you whispered.

Hana grew into a bright, curious toddler who filled your life with light. But you couldn’t shake the shadow of her father—the man who had once made you feel safe and then abandoned you to the wolves.

Two years later, you decide to visit Gi-hun. He had become like a brother to you, someone who understood the darkness you’d endured. As you climb the stairs to his apartment, Hana babbles in your arms, clutching her favorite stuffed rabbit.

But when you reach the door, the sound of voices stops you cold.

“Are you sure about this?” Gi-hun’s voice, tense and uncertain.

“I never force anyone,” a familiar voice replies.

Your heart races as you push the door open.

Gi-hun and the salesman sit at the table, a revolver between them. The salesman looks as composed as ever, while Gi-hun is pale and trembling.

“What the hell is going on here?” you demand.

The salesman looks up, his eyes widening slightly as he sees you—and the child in your arms. “Y/n.”

Gi-hun stammers, “It’s not what it looks like—”

“You’re playing Russian roulette!” you snap, your voice rising. “How is that not exactly what it looks like?”

The salesman’s gaze flicks to Hana. “You have a daughter,” he says softly, putting the pieces together.

“Don’t you dare,” you hiss, clutching her closer. “You don’t get to talk about her. You don’t get to act like you care.”

“I do care,” he says, standing slowly. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“You lied to me,” you spit. “You used me. You sent me to those games knowing I might die.”

“I gave you a choice,” he says, his voice calm but firm.

“You gave me a death sentence,” you fire back. “And now you’re here, dragging Gi-hun into your twisted games? Haven’t you done enough damage?”

The salesman’s jaw tightens. “It’s not that simple.”

“No,” you say, your voice shaking. “It’s exactly that simple. You destroy people’s lives and pretend it’s for their own good. But you don’t get to do that to us anymore.”

He looks at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he nods, his eyes lingering on Hana one last time.

“Goodbye, Y/n,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

As the door closes behind him, you sink into a chair, trembling.

Gi-hun reaches out, his voice filled with regret. “I’m sorry—”

“It’s not your fault,” you say, cutting him off. “He manipulates people. That’s what he does.”

Hana wriggles in your arms, her tiny hand brushing your cheek. “Mama,” she says softly, her voice filled with love.

You press a kiss to her forehead, tears slipping down your face. “We’re okay,” you whisper, more to yourself than anyone else.

Gi-hun watches you, his eyes filled with both guilt and gratitude. “Thank you,” he says quietly.

“For what?”

“For saving me.”

You meet his gaze, your resolve hardening. “We save each other.”

[sweetiecutie]

Hi!

I fell in love with ur underbedmonster!simon au!

And I am sure everybody else fell in love with it.

Can we get some more stories with monster simon? If it's no problem, of course :)))

Love your work btw <33

A/n: sure you can, I think that this trope is my new obsession🫣☺️

Warnings: smut, mdni, possessiveness, monsterfucking, tentacle fucking

Part 1 || Part 3 || Part 4

Underbed monster! Simon who was slightly startled by such sudden change in your aura - once sugary sweet and syrupy turned into bitter and pungent, causing creature to sputter and hiss begrudgingly at the taste, his ears (or whatever that was that he had) straining to hear any words coming from you that could explain this drastic shift in your emotions.

Underbed monster! Simon who listened attentively as you spoke on the phone with your best friend, choking on your own tears and sobs as you told them how you broke up with your now ex boyfriend, about the ugly fight you had, how he called you numerous names, shattering your heart in million pieces just with his cruel words.

Underbed monster! Simon who felt rage simmering somewhere deep within him. How dare that pathetic scumbag treat you like that!? Yes, Ghost did torture you with horrible nightmares quite a few dozens times, but you were his human, his to scare, his to taunt, his to fuck, no one else’s. He felt possessive and angry, he wanted to soothe your poor little heart, to make all the pain go away so you could feed him more and more of that honey-like energy that your pleasure exuded.

Underbed monster! Simon who finally decided to take matters into his own hands after keeping a close eye on you when your state didn’t seem to get any better. Ghost sneaked out some of the sweets from kitchen to your bedroom so you had something to munch on, making you confused as to how those candies seemed to magically appear on your bedside. Simon tried keeping the house tidy and clean for you in hopes that it’ll make you get better soon, he even did your laundry once, causing you to freak out at the sight of your clothes, freshly washed and still damp, hanging off the rope to dry out.

Underbed monster! Simon couldn’t be more happier, watching your attention finally shift from your shithead ex to him. Simon was purposefully lurking right in the corner of your vision, making his presence in the house way more obvious. He watched with fierce amusement as you grabbed the sharpest knife from the kitchen, inspecting every nook and cranny of the house, not finding any signs of intrusion or anything that could’ve given a clue about another person’s presence, scrunching up your pretty eyebrows in confusion.

Underbed monster! Simon who fully revealed himself for the first time in your dream, standing in his full glory in front of small scared you, your breathing quickening in your sleep as you inspected his tall dark form, two red eyes glaring down at you from above. You felt paralysed as you watched this creature raise its smokey limb that slightly resembled human arm, cold tentacle fingers brushing your cheek, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear affectionately. And all of the sudden all fear and anxiety vanished, leaving place for curiosity and amazement as you studied monster’s features closer, not feeling threatened nor endangered by him. Slowly its mouth opened - even blacker that the rest of him, his voice clear and lucid, ringing right inside of your head “Wake up”

Your eyes snapped open - you were laying in your bed still, crumpled sheets dug into your back unpleasantly but you couldn’t care less as you stared straight into those crimson orbs, cold tentacles slithering up and down your sides, wrapping tighter around your limbs, immobilising you completely. Underbed monster! Simon just purred audibly at your obedience and lack of resistance, branching a few more extremities to slip under the hem of your pyjama top and wrap around your nipples, tugging and tweaking on them softly.

Underbed monster! Simon who growled satisfactorily at the small wet patch that started forming on your panties, slowly rubbing your sweet pussy while applying more and more pressure to his touch, watching you writhe and whine underneath him, begging for more.

Underbed monster! Simon who purred as he slipped a thick tentacle past the hem of your panties, stuffing your fluttering cunny so full of himself, finally that rich taste of your pleasure simmered right through him, filling his ghastly body with strength and energy he lacked all this time you were depressed. Newfound strength just nagged him into fucking you faster and harder, twisting out your nipples and rubbing your clit rapidly, all while forcing his thick tentacles in and out of your leaking cunt, making you scream and tremble in his inescapable grasp as fourth orgasm rippled through your weakened body, pure pleasure surging through your veins, hogging up your mind and making you incapable of thinking.

Underbed monster! Simon who only let you go when first sun rays peaked in through bedroom’s window, leaving you a fucked-out yet blissful mess, pinching you on your cheek affectionately before slipping under your mattress, curling up like a huge lazy cat and falling asleep, full of your delicious pleasure.

And even hours later as you peeked under your bed you could see a huge black spot there, still and unmoving; and if you listened closely enough you could hear your underbed monster purr softly in its sleep, happy and properly nourished.

That’s quite a pet that you have now, eh?

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated, don’t be shy to give writers some love! Requests are open, so send me some stuff<3

[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

Hello everyone! I'm back with another Merlin au! I hope you all enjoy! :D

In this AU, Merlin is born much, much later than in canon, such that Arthur is already in his late thirties and has been on the throne for over a decade by the time Merlin arrives in Camelot.

In this world, Uther had been assassinated by Morgause, leading to Arthur taking the throne and, at first, continuing the purge as a means to avenge his father. However, after some kind druids help him in finding Morgause after getting lost in the woods during a search party for the witch, Arthur slowly starts to soften his heart towards the druids, allowing them to live undisturbed on Camelot's lands. After all, they kept to themselves and offered assistance whenever a curse befell the land.

After a few years of peace with the druids, some of the druid elders travelled to the city itself, something they had never done before, and requested an audience with Arthur, claiming to have important information regarding a prophecy and Camelot's future. Trusting their word and curious about this prophecy, Arthur welcomes them into the castle and hears what they have to say.

And what they had to say was earth-shattering information for Arthur. They spoke of a prophecy as old as the Old Religion itself, how a king would be born to unite the warring land of Albion and restore peace, bringing the land into a gold age as the gods intended it. They spoke of how this Once and Future King would have a counterpart, the other half of his soul who would complete him and make him the glorious king that he was destined to be.

They told Arthur of Emrys, all-powerful magic made into the form of a man, the son of the Triple Goddess sent to the mortal plane to complete the Once and Future and guide him towards his destiny.

And just like that, Arthur's whole life changed.

The thing you have to understand about this Arthur is that he is very lonely. He has friends, people he trusts, but he's never been able to have a friend that sees Arthur instead of the prince or king. But the prophecy, according to the druids, says that Emrys would see beyond his titles and have a connection to Arthur, not the king. That Emrys would complete him in a way that he'd never fully comprehend.

They also describe Emrys's godly abilities, far beyond anything a mortal sorcerer could ever hope to achieve. He could command the elements of nature, the powers of all the world arose at his call, and time itself bowed to his command.

(And this all sounded very appealing to a repressed Arthur. Soon, Arthur's pleasant dreams started to feature a powerful cloaked figure bringing Arthur to heel, just as he had brought all the powers of magic under his control.)

So, Arthur eagerly awaits Emrys for years, waiting for the day that he meets his other half of the coin and the golden age can finally begin.

The druids, some of whom now stayed permanently in the castle to help Arthur with matters concerning magic until Emrys arrived to take over that role, told Arthur that they could sense when Emrys was nearby, and that they would alert him if they felt Emrys's presence in Camelot.

So, Arthur waits, and waits, and waits, never once giving up hope of meeting his destined other half.

He waits, until one day, the druid elders calmly announce at court that the day has come. Emrys had arrived at the gates of Camelot.

And Arthur's heart nearly leapt out of his chest with excitement. He was here! At long last, his life would be complete and he would become the great king his people deserved!

Arthur rushed to call for the entire court to assemble in the courtyard, ready to welcome Emrys with fanfare, and he sent word to the servants and cooks to prepare a celebratory feast as soon as they could. He needed to make a good first impression on his "other half of the coin" after all!

Arthur, not for the first time, wondered what Emrys would look like when he arrived. The druids didn't have a physical description for him, since his unimaginable powers gave him the ability to change his appearance at will. Perhaps he would look like a druid himself, or would he take on a more noble appearance, befitting of his status? Would he teleport himself into the courtyard with flair, or perhaps he would ride in on the back of a magic beast, like a dragon or unicorn!

Between all of the rush to prepare the castle for Emrys's grand arrival, Arthur forgot all about a skinny peasant boy accidentally bumping into him. The boy had apologized and asked politely where he could find Gaius's chambers. Arthur had looked at him oddly, since that was a rather large breach of decorum to ask the king such a trivial question, but Arthur simply brushed it off and pointed the young man in the right direction.

Finally, after everything was prepared, Arthur stood outside on the steps of the castle with his entire court behind him, straining his eyes at the gate for any sign of movement.

And he waited, and waited, and waited. But there was still no powerful warlock coming through the gates.

Finally, he turned to the druid elder next to him and asked, "Where is he? I thought you said he was in the city!"

The druid responded patiently, "He is, my lord. He might be in a disguise though, as to avoid attention. It is known that Lord Emrys is rather humble."

Arthur grumbled about prophesized warlocks never arriving on time and dismissed his court to attend the feast, hoping that perhaps Emrys would make himself known there, in a less public space.

The feast in its own right was a splendid time, with fresh food, fine wine, and even an famous songstress brought in for entertainment. However, as the night went on and the chair to Arthur's right remained empty, his mood soured. Emrys was supposed to be here, by his side, so where was he?!

Arthur was so caught up in his thoughts that he almost missed the moment when the singer's voice became threatening, her song became sinister, and an unnatural stillness came over everyone in attendance.

Arthur watched with barely-open eyes as the sorceress unsheathed a dagger and took aim and his chest, a vengeful smile on her face.

He could barely breathe as the dagger flew, his death drawing closer and closer until...

Until the blade stopped in mid-air, frozen by magic. Arthur's breath hitched. Could it be?

Arthur felt himself be pulled out of his chair, and the dagger hit the back of it, right where his chest had been moments before. The sorceress turned to where Arthur and his savior had landed with a furious expression, but before she could even take a step towards them, the chain holding the chandelier above her, which had never shown any signs of rust or damage, snapped, landing directly on top of the witch with a loud crash.

With the witch now dead, her spell was lifted, and Arthur scrambled to his feet the second that his limbs no longer felt like they were made out of solid lead. With his heart hammering in his chest, he turned around to face the sorcerer who had stopped time itself to save him.

This was Emrys, right behind him, and all of a sudden, Arthur wasn't quite sure what to expect.

Arthur turned and gazed down at the man still sprawled out on the floor, his arm outstretched to where the chandelier had been hanging. His eyes flickered wildly over his form, unsure of what details to take in first.

When his mind was finally calm enough to catch up to what his eyes were seeing, his thoughts came to a screeching halt. Because this man was certainly Emrys, and he had certainly been in the castle today. Arthur had seen him after all.

He was the peasant boy, from before. He had indeed snuck into the castle under a disguise to avoid suspicion, and had tested Arthur's heart, just as the druids said that he would. Any other king would have ignored a peasant asking for directions, or would even had them punished for such disrespect towards royalty. But Arthur had stopped to help him, and he must have passed Emrys's test, because he had saved Arthur from the witch's dagger with his own two hands.

Arthur's didn't know how much time passed as he and Emrys looked at each other, both of them staring with wide eyes.

Finally, after what felt like hours of silence, Emrys climbed to his feet and looked around the room with wide eyes, taking in the shocked and awed stares of everyone in the court.

Looking back at everyone with matching shock, Emrys stuttered out "I'll, uh, be going now. I, um, hope you all enjoy the rest of your feast," and ran off before Arthur's mind could come up with some kind of response, weaving in between shocked lords and bowing druids.

After Emrys had left the room, all eyes turned to Arthur, who took a moment to calm his breathing and his racing thoughts.

"It seems that Emrys has truly arrived in Camelot at last! Since this feast was interrupted, let's postpone the festivities to tomorrow, when Emrys can truly be in attendance."

That seemed to bring the court back to reality, and they slowly began to make their way out of the feasting hall, moving slowly so that everyone could talk amongst one another about Emrys's sudden appearance.

As soon as the last of the courtiers had left the hall, Arthur sprinted out of the room, running to his own chambers as fast as his feet would carry him. He only stopped briefly to breathlessly ask one of the druid elders to pass along a message to Emrys, inviting him for a private meeting with a king later that evening.

Racing back to his own rooms, Arthur was beyond glad to find them spotless. His chamber servants would get a raise after this, they had outdone themselves this time. Everything was perfect, his rooms free of any dirt, his desk immaculate, his furniture exactly where it was supposed to be, and his bed made.

Arthur anxiously paced around his own rooms, worrying about what Emrys already thought of him. Had he been too dismissive during their first encounter? Was he disappointed that Arthur could not recognize him, the other half of his soul, through his peasant disguise?

Finally, there was a soft knock at Arthur's door. Taking a deep breath, Arthur called out, "You may enter," in a deceptively steady voice.

The door opened slowly, revealing a now-familiar face in the doorway. Arthur's breathing sped up as Emrys slowly stepped into his rooms and closed the door behind him.

"You- you wanted to see me?"

"Of course! I apologize for not recognizing you when we first met, but I did not expect you to come in such a disguise. Now that we are alone though, you can drop your magical glamour and reveal your true face. You do not need to hide anything form me, I promise."

But Emrys simply looked at him, blinking with confusion.

"I... appreciate that, but what are you talking about? What glamour?"

"The illusion that makes you appear like," Arthur waved his hand at Emrys's peasant garb, "this. You can freely show you true splendor here!"

Again, Emrys looked at him with nothing but confusion.

"But... but this is what I look like. I'm not using any sort illusion right now."

A beat of silence. Then, one dumbfounded word escaped Arthur's mouth.

"What?"

TL;DR:

The sorcerer Arthur thought he was getting:

Vs the sorcerer he actually got:

[cherriegyuu]

so high school | kmg | part 1

pairing: hockey player mingyu x f!reader  genre: smut (in later part), fluff, a bit of angst, bad attempt at comedy word count: 8.8k summary: when you’re suddenly thrown in Mingyu’s direction, you have no choice but to stay by his side, and maybe it’s not as bad as you think playlist: click here a/n: i wanted to write a story that was light, summeryish. it was based off of taylor swift’s song so high school (i’m not that creative with names), i wanted to write that sort of cute romance we all just love. i truly hope you like it, this one is precious to me. thank you to @joonsytip for helping me with this one. please, remember to comment and reblog, it does mean the world to me and i would love to know your opnions.

< part two >

If there was one thing you hated about college, it was having to choose electives. For starters, you really didn’t want to be there. You were a good student because you had no choice, not because you absolutely loved college — not that your major was boring and you hated everything about it, but it really did seem like a universal experience to hate your chosen major at some point in college. But the problem was that taking the courses related to your major was hard enough as it was, you didn’t want to have to worry about subjects that might or might not add to what you were studying. Of course, you always tried to choose something that had at least a minimum to do with your major — Art History.

But there were times, like the previous semester when you procrastinated too much to choose one, that it simply wasn’t possible, and you had to put up with classes on Cultural Management. At first, you thought it would be geared towards galleries and the like, but it was something much more specific about public cultural heritage and that wasn’t what you wanted. At least the subject was easy enough. Just reading a few pages of Kira’s notes and listening to half of the lectures was enough to get you through with a high grade.

Trying to be a little smarter, and do something you actually enjoyed doing, you signed up for the semester’s classes as soon as they opened. You were already sitting in front of your computer when the clock struck 10 am. You chose a class that all of your classmates, or at least the ones you talked to, were interested in doing: Model Making.

It was something you enjoyed doing when you were younger. Your parents knew that if you simply disappeared or were too quiet — aka you weren’t yelling at Jeonghan — you’d be in your room surrounded by modeling clay, chopsticks, glue, brushes, and paint, or whatever materials you were using at the time. 

However, all of your dreams were shattered when you ran into Kira at the campus entrance. 

“You know, the teacher for this class is crazy. Your life is going to be hell” was like a cold shower.

After that, it was as if everywhere you went, people were purposefully talking about the subject, about how the teacher was absolutely crazy and that getting a good grade with her was almost impossible, and how she “seems to take a sick pleasure in failing students.” So when the day of class finally arrived, the first of the next six hellish months, you dragged yourself into the classroom. You chose the seat furthest away from her, hidden behind a student, and did your best to stay as out of sight as possible. 

The guy sitting in front of you turned around. He was smiling widely. You weren’t sure if he was trying to be friendly or what. 

“Do you know if what everyone’s saying is true?” 

There was something about him that was familiar. You obviously knew who he was, it was no secret. Everywhere you went, people were either whispering about him or there was a picture of him and the other guys on the team taped to the wall.

Kim Mingyu, star of the ice hockey team. The youngest to become captain, top scorer, the big sensation who would lead the university to the long-awaited championship. All that blah blah blah about the chosen athlete, and the latest savior of the nation.

So yes, you knew who he was, there was no way you couldn't know. But at that specific moment, while he was sitting in front of you, his body turned in the chair at a strange angle because he was obviously too big for that tiny chair, there was something about him that was strangely familiar.

"That the teacher is crazy?" he nodded, his eyebrows slightly arched and his lips almost forming a pout "I haven't heard anyone say otherwise, so I have no choice but to believe it."

You lowered your eyes and focused on the lit screen of your cell phone, which showed a new message from your brother. You didn't look away because you wanted to know what Jeonghan wanted, as far as you were concerned his message would only be read at the end of the day, if that. You didn't want to keep looking at Mingyu when you felt that everyone in the classroom was looking at you.

You knew it wasn't exactly true, there was no way an entire class, full of students talking to each other, could be looking at you at the same time as if you were doing something scandalous or even remotely wrong. But you knew there were a few people, and that was more than enough. It was a very familiar feeling, one you preferred not to revisit.

Even though you completely ignored Mingyu's presence or his gaze on you, he still hadn't turned around. Not even when the teacher entered the room and everyone fell silent.

The problem with being a child who didn’t have many experiences is that you become a fearful person. Everything seems big, larger than life, and sometimes everything seems infinite and far beyond reach. It’s a much easier choice to retreat into that familiar corner and pretend the world outside simply doesn’t exist. The bubble you created for yourself was small and admittedly, sometimes suffocating, but it was also comforting.

But everything can change when you meet people who aren’t aware of that bubble, or who didn’t create those spaces for themselves. They weren’t trapped inside it.

One class was more than enough to start a crack in your perfectly intact bubble. A selective introvert, as you liked to say. For a loud hockey player when he was surrounded by his friends, Seokmin was strangely shy.

When the teacher was choosing the pairs, you closed your eyes, praying to anyone who would listen not to pair you with a bad student, someone who wouldn't do anything and you would have to do all the work alone. The prayer, or whatever it was, was not heard because the teacher decided it would be a great idea to pair you and Seokmin. Maybe you were under the wrong impression, falling into the old suspicions and stereotypes, but you doubted very much that you would be able to get any kind of help from Seokmin.

And to be quite honest, after a bad experience with a group mate, to the point of ending up at the police station, because the guy simply couldn't accept the fact that you taking his name off the work was completely his fault and you simply didn't think it was fair that you did everything alone and he still got a good grade, you were okay with doing everything on your own. You were sure that if you opened your email, and clicked on your spam box because God was a witness to the number of emails you had received from that idiot, there would probably still be some unread emails from him, bragging that even with your “attempt” to jeopardize his education, he had managed to get a good enough grade to pass the class. 

Despite everything, Seokmin was nice and seemed interested enough, although a little lost, but maybe a little push in the right direction would be enough. 

“I took this class because I thought it would be easy,” he said laughing, a little shy, “I guess I was wrong.” 

You nodded, absentmindedly turning the page of your notebook with the notes you had made. 

“I took it because I like the idea of ​​building models.”

The classroom door opened with a bang, slamming against the wall. Everyone turned to him, some girls laughing. Mingyu was obviously late, his hair still wet from the shower, his backpack inside out on his shoulder, his shirt completely wrinkled as if it had just come out of a cow’s mouth. The teacher stood up and walked towards him slowly, her arms crossed over her chest.

“He’s screwed.” Seokmin laughed softly, or as softly as he could.

The teacher didn’t have a welcoming look in her eyes, if anything she seemed to be glaring at Mingyu, and not even the best smile he could throw in her direction would make a difference. In addition to being crazy, the teacher was also apparently known for not accepting tardiness.

It was impossible to look away as Mingyu tried, without any success, to open his mouth to explain, but the teacher wouldn’t let him say a single word. You and Seokmin suppressed a laugh when the teacher looked in the direction where she thought the noise was coming from before turning back to Mingyu, who seemed more desperate by the second. He looked lost standing in front of the older woman, his head lowered like a child who had misbehaved and was listening to a lecture.

Finally, the teacher dismissed him with a wave of her hands and turned back to her desk, completely ignoring Mingyu. He finally turned back to the desks, his eyes scanning the space before finally settling on Seokmin. Or… on you? There was no reason to believe he was looking at you, none at all. When Mingyu smiled, you went back to looking at your notes, flipping the pages almost compulsively, looking for anything and nothing.

You had no idea why your heart was behaving like that, beating almost animalistically inside your chest, or why you felt a single drop of sweat run down your spine — despite the air conditioning being on and you feeling cold. You could have sworn you could hear Mingyu’s footsteps going up the stairs, despite the sound of the students’ conversations around you being obviously much louder.

“At least I got something good for being late today.”

Mingyu pulled out the empty chair next to you and sat down, his knee bumping against yours. You flinched a little and moved away, making yourself closer to Seokmin.

“Sorry,” you said to Seokmin and turned to Mingyu. “Could you…?”

You waved your hand to make him move away. He looked confused for a second until he pushed the chair further away from you. On the other side, Seokmin covered his mouth, trying to stifle a laugh, while Mingyu glared at him.

“The teacher who chose your group?” Seokmin asked, still trying to suppress a laugh.

“She just said to sit with whoever wasn’t already in a trio”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. Great, you were stuck with two jocks who had probably hit their heads on the ice so much that their brains had turned to jelly in their early twenties.

“What do we have to do?”

“Build 3 models based on architectural periods.” When Mingyu widened his eyes, you added, “It’s the entire semester’s work. We don’t even have to come to class anymore, just the last one to hand it in.”

You started gathering the few materials you had taken out of your bag. The notebook and pen quickly disappeared into what Jeonghan called a black hole. “What goes in there never comes out again. If you look hard enough, you’ll find a wallet I lost in high school.”

“Look, I know I’m going to do this alone. I'll find a way to let you know the periods I chose and the artists and you guys study for the presentation.” 

You stood up, pushing the chair back with your knees, making a lot more noise than expected, which in turn made most of the people turn to see what was happening, including the teacher. 

“Wait,” Mingyu said, holding the strap of your bag. 

Not that you could get out of there anyway, he was between you and any possibility of leaving. But you thought he would get out of the way if he saw that you wanted to leave.

“I'll help, it's my job too,” with his free hand, he pointed to Seokmin behind you. “Ours, actually.” 

Despite the sincere look on his face, you laughed.

“Look, I don't want to offend you guys, okay? But the three of us know that won't happen. There will always be a practice, a game, a party, something that will stop you from doing your part of the work. I don’t mind doing it alone, it won’t be the first time, and considering I still have two more semesters to go, it won’t be the last. It’s okay, really.”

Mingyu stood up and for a moment you were sure he was going to get out of your way, but somehow he managed to block your path even more. You couldn’t help but wonder if he had always been this tall and wide. When he was around the other players it didn’t seem like it, but him standing in front of you…

“I said we’ll help” 

He took his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it, turning the device towards you.

“You know, your hands are huge, and this is a very delicate job” What exactly were you talking about?

“He’s more skilled than you can imagine,” Seokmin said. 

Once again, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath. The teacher was definitely crazy, and it seemed like she had some kind of personal vendetta against you. Or was it a curse cast by Jeonghan for staining his white shirts? Whatever it was, it was a problem that, at the moment, had no obvious solution.

“If I fail this class because of you two idiots, maybe one of you will lose a hand.” You snatched the phone from Mingyu’s hand, dialed your number, and quickly handed it back. “Maybe both of you”

You put your hand on Mingyu’s shoulder and pushed him back. You tried your best to avoid any kind of contact, but it was the only solution you could find to pass.

“It’s not a matter of life or death, you know?” he said, laughing.

“I’ve never failed in my life, and I’m not going to start now.”

Mingyu pushed the door open with perhaps a little more force than necessary. He wasn't angry, but he wasn't happy either, a strange feeling somewhere in between that he didn't like very much.

That first day he had seen you in class was like he had been transported back to high school. He could almost hear you saying, in the most disinterested tone in the world, "I've been waiting for you for two hours, could we please go home?" At that time he had also felt invisible to your eyes.

But so many years later, in that classroom, he thought you would recognize him. Mingyu thought, as naive as it may seem, that despite your disinterest at the time, at least you would know who he was.

Of all the people he could meet in that class, you were the last one that ever crossed his mind. It had been years since he had last seen you, since Jeonghan's last game, when he was crowned champion for the third time - an unprecedented feat until that moment. Mingyu had even tried to beat that record, but his runner-up position in the third year had prevented him from doing so. 

He had gotten used to seeing you from afar, always the unreachable sister of his captain, who always seemed to be much more interested in the books you carried around with you than in anything else. 

The truth was that you had never even directed a word in Mingyu's direction. Besides Jeonghan, he had only seen you talk to one other person, Seungcheol. It had never been clear to him if it was by choice or if it was because Jeonghan always said you were off-limits. Maybe it was somewhere in between. 

However, when you entered the room, looking for an empty chair, Mingyu expected you to recognize him, even though so many years had passed. When you walked up the stairs and seemed to be heading towards him, Mingyu, like a silly teenager, expected you to at least greet him. But you walked right past him as if he wasn't even there. 

Even so, he tried to talk to you. Something about the teacher being crazy and the look in your eyes said that you couldn't wait for him to shut up and look straight ahead again.

After that, it was like he saw you everywhere, and believe him, he wasn't looking for you. In the café that opened on the other side of the campus, in the library, when he went to return a book, in the hallway of the building, on the lawn. Mingyu spent five years without having any kind of contact with you and, suddenly, you were everywhere.

He chose to see it as a divine sign. As if the guy up there was saying "Now is your chance". And then, as if all these signs weren't enough, he was given the chance to do an assignment with you, almost like a gift.

"The door didn't do anything to you," Seokmin said laughing.

"Do you want to be the door?" 

Maybe the divine signal was broken, maybe the guy up there was messing with him because in less than 5 minutes you managed to extinguish any and all excitement Mingyu could have about doing the assignment with you. All you had to do was open your mouth.

“Dude, she just doesn’t remember you” Seokmin laughed again, having a little too much fun with the whole situation “If you say, ‘hi, I was your brother’s teammate’, she’ll still not remember you, but maybe she’ll be less hostile”

Mingyu highly doubted that was the case. There was a rumor that you hated everything and anything that had to do with hockey, your patience was less than zero. Jeonghan was the king of the ice, the best the sport could produce. You were the ice princess without ever having even put on a pair of skates – or so the gossip said. 

“It doesn’t bother me that she doesn’t remember me” It did bother him, but he wouldn’t admit it “It bothers me that she thinks I’m stupid”

Usually, under completely normal circumstances, Mingyu would even prefer to be seen as stupid and without anything in his head. It was easier, it prevented people from creating any kind of expectation about him. Strangely, he wanted you to see him as intelligent.

“You’re a bit contradictory, aren’t you? You’ve spent the last 3 years cultivating the image of a dumb athlete, who gets good grades by pure luck, despite the almost impossible subjects, but now you want her to think you’re smart”

“I didn’t know you knew how to use the word contradictory”

You stared at the lit screen of your cell phone. The unknown number was glowing and the inviting green button was almost begging you to answer the call. It was already the third time he had called and it would also be the third time you had ignored him.

“You know, it won’t hurt if you answer his call,” Kira said beside you, but she also knew that trying to convince you was a losing game.

Exactly 11 days had passed since the fateful class that had put you in a group with Seokmin and Mingyu. While you had no direct problems with either of them, besides them being hockey players, Mingyu’s insistence irritated you in a way that didn’t make much sense — not even to you. You should have felt relieved that he wanted to do the work, and that he was interested in participating. But the truth is that you knew how this worked, you had been in that situation before and hadn’t had the best experience.

Maybe you were a little too hard on him, it's true, but it's like the old saying goes: a scalded cat fears cold water.

“I want to keep as far away from him as possible.”

Kira rolled her eyes for what seemed like the twentieth time. She understood, to some extent, your dislike for players and also knew that a lot of it came from your brother, but in the case of Mingyu, specifically, you were definitely going too far.

“Look, the rumors are that he's a good student, actually. Always with high grades.” Kira tried to argue.

You knew the rumor well, even before you were put in the same group, in fact, much to your chagrin, Mingyu had chosen to be in the same group as you. That helped a lot with the huge reputation he had around the college. Handsome, athletic, good student. But you didn't believe it for a minute.

You didn’t know if Mingyu really had any good grades, but if he did, you were sure he hadn’t gotten them in the most… fairway.

“And he’s not unpleasant to look at at all.”

It was your turn to roll your eyes at him. Yes, Mingyu was gorgeous, breathtaking, the kind of guy that made you wonder if he was even real. You had eyes and they worked just fine, you didn’t need Kira to remind you that he was handsome. Saying Mingyu was handsome was like saying the sky was blue, obvious, and expected.

“You know I don’t mess with athletes.”

Finally, Mingyu had given up on the call, but that didn’t mean he had given up completely. Your phone only had a few seconds of respite before the screen lit up again, but this time with a ton of messages.

Unknown - 11:32

hi, it's mingyu

Unknown - 11:32

again

Unknown - 11:33

answer me, I want to talk about the project

Unknown - 11:34

you said you want to do it alone, but it's not going to happen, you know? I can't leave my grande in the hands of a complete stranger

Unknown - 11:35

I see you with your phone in your hand, take my call or reply to my texts

You lifted your head so quickly that you felt a twinge in your neck.

"Shit"

You looked around the cafe, trying to find Mingyu, but most of the tables were empty and none of the people standing in line looked remotely like him. You brought your face closer to the glass, trying to find the tall, broad figure, outside, and still didn't see anyone who could be mistaken for him.

yn - 11:37

I could report you for stalking

Unknown - 11:37

crime: wanting to do a college assignment

yn - 11:37

following me around, calling me non-stop, texting me. It could be considered stalking, yes

Unknown - 11:38

again, crime: wanting to do a school project

Unknown - 11:38

also, I wasn’t following you, I just happened to see you

yn - 11:38

I already said I'll do it alone

Unknown - 11:39

and I already said it won't happen, so if you could tell me your plan on how to do it, that would be great

“We have to admit, he's persistent”

Mingyu's messages became common and also at the most random moments possible. You were sure that the only time he hadn't sent a text was when he was at the game last Friday. You knew this because you had watched the game, with the computer with the sound turned down so that Jeonghan wouldn't suspect anything. 

You hated to admit it, but he was good at what he did. Dared to say it was even glorious. It was hard to believe that a man of that size, so wide, could infiltrate the smallest spaces and score the most unbelievable goals possible. He and Seokmin together were almost magical. They still couldn't compare to the duo of Jeonghan and Seungcheol, but that was already a very high level to reach. 

Mingyu had given up on sending you texts only about work, not that you had answered any of them, but he also started asking about your course, inviting you and Kira to go to one of his games – you still wondered how he had found out about your friendship since all of your social media profiles were locked and so were Kira's.

You had to agree with Kira, he was persistent. You could even say tireless. If you were him, you would probably have given up a long time ago, choosing to let the crazy guy do the work alone. But Mingyu was nowhere near giving up. You knew this because every time you miraculously ran into Mingyu, you had to run away from him, practically having to run away from him at some point.

It worked very well for a week until one day he simply appeared in front of you. You were distracted, your eyes glued to your phone. Jeonghan was gliding across the ice with skill when the player from the other team hit him hard, his body flying before falling to the ice. You felt the air get stuck in your lungs until he stood up, clearly irritated by what had happened. You felt like laughing when you saw the name on the other player's shirt, the one who had pushed Jeonghan. Choi. Best friends in real life, rivals on the ice.

“What are you looking at so focused?” a voice said next to him.

You felt like your heart was going to jump out of your chest as you tried to lock your phone and put it back in the bag. You wished you had been more graceful in the whole situation, to look less like someone who had been caught red-handed doing something they shouldn't have.

“Jeez, do you have no manners?” your voice came out louder than expected, causing some people around him to turn to see what was happening.

Beside you, Mingyu smiled, pleased with himself for having gotten some reaction beyond furrowed eyebrows and a look of disgust.

“Were you running away from me?” he raised his hand and corrected himself, “Not right now because you clearly had no idea I was here, but in general.” 

You rolled your eyes and quickened your pace. You didn’t really have anywhere to go or anything to do, there were still 50 minutes until your next class and there was no time to run home and hide. Would it be too pathetic to hide in the bathroom and wait for him to leave? With your luck, he would be waiting outside, even if it meant missing a class. 

“Why would I do that?” 

Mingyu crossed his arms over his chest. For the first time in your life, you wished someone was ugly, devoid of any kind of muscles or attractive qualities. You wished he was ugly, terrible to look at. You wished the sun wouldn’t make his skin shine, you wished you didn’t find the mole on the tip of his nose cute, wished you hadn’t wondered if maybe all this insistence of his didn’t have some extra reason, besides wanting to get the work done and obviously annoying you. Of all the things, you wished you hadn’t been disappointed when you hadn’t seen him for a day.

It was ridiculous, you knew it was. But whatever it may be, there you were, your heart pounding, feeling it throb in your neck. You wouldn’t fool yourself into thinking it was just because you were surprised by him suddenly being by your side. You could fool others, but at least you had to be fair to yourself.

“I don’t know, you tell me.”

Even though you knew it wasn’t a good idea, you stood still. You knew it would only attract more attention, it was almost inevitable when Mingyu was by your side. 

“Okay, I was. I don’t want to be seen with you.”

Mingyu looked confused, his head lolling to the side as if he was seriously thinking about what was happening. The question mark was clearly written on his face. It was almost as if one was floating above his head.

“Mingyu, look. You, in and of yourself, are not the problem. I mean, in part, it is, but you know, it's that old story, the problem is me, not you.”

“I honestly thought the problem was just the assignment.” He scratched his head, his eyebrows still furrowed. “You think I'm stupid and that kind of thing.”

You took a deep breath, your eyes closed for a second. You hadn't explained the situation to him, you had no reason to, so he had no way of knowing. But you also didn't want to expose your life to a stranger, so you weren’t willing to just tell secrets you’d never said out loud.

“If I tell you I’ll let you guys do your part, will you stop following me? It’s a little weird, and maybe even a little creepy.”

Your words were honest, it was weird and creepy at the same time. It didn’t make sense. Wouldn’t it be much easier for him, and for Seokmin, to just let you do everything yourself so they could focus on whatever was important to them? In your opinion, it was the easiest thing for everyone.

But Mingyu looked like a dog with a bone. A terrible analogy, but it made sense, at least to you.

“Yes,” a direct answer, great.

“Let’s do it like this then, let’s chat via text about the artists we think are cool, which are the most interesting. Once we’ve reached a consensus, we’ll get together to start making the models.”

You took a step back and held out your hand. A peace offering.

“We have a deal then.”

If regret killed, you would have been dead and buried so long ago that you would have turned into fertilizer. Logically, you knew that trusting Jeonghan was a mistake. You loved your brother with all your heart, but you also knew that he wasn't the most trustworthy person for certain things.

If you were in trouble and needed help? He was definitely the right guy for the job. He wouldn't say a word in a judgmental tone and, depending on the situation, he would go far enough to pretend it never happened. Now, if it was a request that he considered silly, then it was a lost cause. 

Besides all that, Jeonghan liked to play pranks, and you were one of his favorite victims. Things could even get a little out of hand when he and Seungcheol got together. It was like having two completely devilish older brothers. In truth, Seungcheol alone wasn't even that bad, but when he got together with Jeonghan it was like someone had opened the gates of hell. 

Even knowing all this, you had talked to him. You knew the house was his, that he could come and go as he pleased, but thought that if you played the little sister card well enough he would let it go.

"Some friends from college are coming over tomorrow, can you please not show up at home?" you asked, making your best puppy-dog-that-fell-out-of-the-moving-truck face.

"You don’t want me to meet your boyfriend?" he laughed, looking away from his phone for a second before returning his attention to the device.

You closed your eyes. Something was going on. Jeonghan was really into his phone, much more than usual. Either some nonsensical rumor had been published, which he would have already shown you and laughed along with you when he read the absurdities written; or he had a bone in his body, also known as a girlfriend. He always got more into his phone when he had someone more serious in his life.

It was useful information to have, so you put it in a little box in your mind labeled "something to blackmail Jeonghan with later" For now it was just speculation, but it could be important.

"How many boyfriends do you think I have?" You grimaced, shaking your head. “But no, none of them are my boyfriend. They’re just some guys I have to work with. I thought about doing it here because we need space and I’m sure I’ll yell at one of them sooner or later.”

You weren’t in the habit of bringing people home. Jeonghan was a person who really liked his private life to remain that way, private. Even with Kira, who was your closest friend, you had a hard time taking her home. Not because Jeonghan had asked. He knew that if you were asking, it was because you needed to or because you trusted those people enough to know who your brother was without it becoming a problem.

In fact, you weren’t sure of anything, not that you needed them or that you could trust them. But Jeonghan wasn’t one of those celebrities who had huge photos of themselves scattered around the house. It’s a little creepy, to be honest, he had said once. So the few photos he had around the living room were in normal-sized picture frames, which his mother had put up when she visited, so they could be easily hidden. The lie about the rich brother who works in the stock market was always on the tip of your tongue in case someone could question why you lived in a penthouse.

"I don't understand what's wrong with me being here then" His indifferent tone of voice was dangerous.

Maybe it would be better to give up.

"First because I don't need supervision, the virginity ship sailed a long time ago" 

It might be a good idea to talk about something he didn't like to talk about, like your past relationships. He could joke all he wanted, but at the end of the day, he was just a guy who didn't like knowing that his younger sister had boyfriends.

"For the love of god I don't need to know that in detail" He grimaced, pretending to vomit. He was such a good actor that he had even turned pale.

"And secondly, because they play hockey. Since there's no way they don't know who you are, I'd like to not witness another fanboy" 

You knew you had said the wrong thing when you noticed that gleam in Jeonghan's eyes. Even his expression had changed when you told him that your groupmates played hockey.

Still, you chose to believe him when he said he would be out of the house all day, that he would even go to Seungcheol's house after practice — which you thought was a lie, considering the whole situation with not putting down his phone and running when a notification came in. He had gone as far as to say, “let me know when it's over, so I can come home.” That's why you sent a message to the group chat with Seokmin and Mingyu asking if they had Tuesday night off.

A part of you, a very big part, thought they would deny it and make up any excuse not to show up, but it was almost as if they both had their phones in their hands waiting for your message.

And so, the three of you were sitting at Jeonghan's huge dining table. It was the kind of furniture that existed only to take up space, you always ate in the kitchen.

“You live well” Seokmin commented.

It was funny, and almost cute, how completely clumsy he was. You had bought different types of materials to test, thinking about which one would work best. Seokmin had changed several times, the last attempt was the biscuit.

“My brother earns well” you shrugged, hoping he wouldn't ask anymore.

To your surprise, he didn't ask. Which was a relief, you didn't want to lie.

Even without looking up, you knew Mingyu was looking at you. He didn't try to hide it at all. It was uncomfortable, but at the same time, it was flattering.

You rested your chin on your hand and stared at him too. Ever since the first day you had seen him in class, you had the feeling that you knew him. You didn't know where from, you didn't know how. It wasn't from college, it wasn't from the posters spread around, or from the fame he had. It was from before, before college, but you didn't know where. You were sure he wasn't in any of the courses you took and he wasn't from your school either, there was no hockey team.

“Where do I know you from?” the words came from your lips, but it was a question asked much more to you than to him.

Mingyu simply tilted his head to the side and didn't say a single word. Seokmin, who until then had his head down, his brow furrowed in concentration trying to shape the white mass in his hands, looked up, almost startled by your words.

It was as if a light bulb had been turned on over your head. It was so ridiculously obvious that you would be able to kick yourself.

And with perfect timing, as if it had been sent from heaven, programmed to the exact seconds, you heard the living room door open. A second later, Jeonghan was in the room.

“Mingyu?” Jeonghan said, his eyes darting from side to side, trying to understand what was happening.

“Captain,” Mingyu said, smiling.

You wished a hole the size of Mount Everest would open up beneath your feet and swallow you whole as you watched Mingyu stand up and greet Jeonghan as if they were old friends who hadn’t seen each other in years.

That was obviously true.

“You know each other” It wasn’t a question, it was a simple statement.

“Yes? Mingyu is a few years younger, but we played on the same team.”

Suddenly a brief movie flashed through your head, of all the times you had seen Mingyu — or at least the times that were never erased. Mingyu walking next to Jeonghan one of the times you were waiting for your brother in the school parking lot, him at the games, sitting on the bench completely irritated by the fact that he couldn’t play and the team was losing. He was a boy who was clearly too skinny, but somehow he had become that man in front of you.

“She doesn’t remember me,” Mingyu said with a laugh.

Was that a hint of resentment you heard in his voice? You hoped not, but maybe if you were in his shoes you would be resentful too. You hoped he hadn’t talked to you that first day because he expected you to recognize him and every time after that. Because most of the time you had been a complete jerk to him.

“Wow, you saw him literally every day for at least two years.”

It wasn’t like you weren’t already embarrassed enough on your own, of course, Jeonghan, in his best big brother role, had to add fuel to the fire. You hoped your cheeks weren’t as red as you felt them hot.

If the smile on Mingyu’s lips was any indication, you were completely screwed.

“I only remember Cheol. He was the only one you let get close to me.”

It was a futile attempt to defend yourself, but it was the only excuse you had. It was also the truth.

“That’s true,” Mingyu agreed, sitting back down.

It wasn’t a big secret that Jeonghan had forbidden all his teammates from getting close to you. It wasn’t like you desperately wanted their company anyway, so it was a win-win arrangement.

“You were a pain in the ass,” which was just another shovel of dirt for someone who was already buried, right?

“I was protecting you? The guys on the team…” he tried to defend himself, feigning offense.

You simply waved your hand at him, dismissing any kind of explanation he might have offered.

“They were teenagers full of testosterone and hormones. Not much has changed, you know.”

The three of them were startled when Seokmin slammed the table, his eyes wide as he stared at Jeonghan. For a few minutes, you had forgotten he was there.

“You are Yoon Jeonghan’s sister?” His voice had suddenly become shrill to the point of echoing in the room.

The laugh that escaped your lips was partly incredulous and partly desperate. Mingyu remembered you, but he hadn’t told anyone—not even his teammate—probably because he remembered it was something you kept people from knowing. In a way, you knew your secret's safe with him. But you didn’t know if you could trust Seokmin in the same way.

“He’s kind of slow sometimes.”

Mingyu pushed Seokmin out the door, hoping he would finally stop talking. His friend hadn’t realized the discomfort he had caused you yet. Jeonghan, as always, didn’t seem to care and on some level, he actually seemed to enjoy all the attention he was getting.

“It’s been a while since someone got this excited to see me,” he said, laughing when Seokmin went to the bathroom.

Either Jeonghan hadn’t realized how quiet you had been, or he had simply chosen not to do anything about it. Mingyu couldn’t be sure of the older man’s intentions, not at that moment or when they were still at school.

But you? You were like an open book, almost begging to be read. You obviously didn’t say a word, but your face showed how uncomfortable you were with the whole situation, how embarrassed you were for not remembering Mingyu as soon as you saw him.

Without you noticing, Mingyu spent a lot of time observing you. In a way, it was easy to know what you were thinking. Of course, a lot had changed in the years you hadn't seen each other, but many things were still the same.

“He won't tell anyone about your brother.”

Mingyu pushed Seokmin again, this time towards the elevator, and turned to you, who was holding the door, your gaze almost lost.

“It's okay.” you took a deep breath before straightening your spine and forcing a smile. “Eventually, everyone will know.”

He shook his head and put his hand on your shoulder, leaning his body forward slightly so his eyes were leveled with yours.

“You have my word,” he promised, voice low “Seokmin won't open his mouth. Your secret will still be a secret.”

You nodded, but Mingyu knew the gesture was just to make him leave faster.

“You should go,” you said before closing the door, without waiting for Mingyu's response.

If he could, he would suffocate Seokmin right there in the hallway, but then the security cameras would see him and that would become a problem. He entered the elevator in silence and pressed the button for the ground floor. Beside him, Seokmin was practically thrilled with the discovery he had made an hour ago.

“When you said you knew her from your old school, I would never have imagined that,” he said, laughing. “I thought she was a girl who went to the same school as you.”

Mingyu chose to remain silent. He expected Seokmin to eventually get tired and simply stop talking, but he should have known better. His friend had too much energy to simply stop. In fact, it was a surprise that he had managed to stay quiet for two hours before Jeonghan arrived. And even after he arrived, Seokmin had remained standing in the same place. He spoke faster than ever and looked at Jeonghan as if he were seeing a god in person, but still, standing in the same place.

God knew it was almost impossible to convince Seokmin to stay still for long.

“I don’t understand why she hides the fact that she’s his sister. It’s basically the nicest thing anyone can say. Imagine going around saying ‘my brother is Yoon Jeonghan’”

Mingyu sighed and crossed his arms and sighed, rolling his eyes. Of course, he would.

“Remember that time your sister complained that a girl tried to befriend her because she wanted to go out with you?”

“It happened a few times, actually.”

Mingyu stayed silent, waiting for all the dots to connect in Seokmin’s head without him having to actually say the words. Under normal circumstances, Seokmin would have understood and kept quiet, but he was too excited after meeting an idol god to realize the full context Mingyu was trying to give him.

“That happens to her all the time. She didn’t even go to the same school as us. She really does everything so no one knows she’s his sister. Didn’t you notice there’s no picture of them at home?”

Seokmin laughed, as if the question was too stupid, causing Mingyu to narrow his eyes.

“Dude, you’re the one who’s into her, not me. I don’t care about whose picture is in her house.”

Would anyone find it a problem if Mingyu strangled Seokmin until he passed out and then took him back home? In Mingyu’s eyes, he would be doing everyone around him a favor. It would be a night of silence and peace for everyone involved — in this case, just him, but no one needed to know about it.

“Either way, you can’t tell anyone about this,” he warned once more.

He had made a promise to you and he would rather cut off an arm than break it.

“Not even to the team?”

Mingyu scratched his head before crossing his arms again, with much more force than necessary. Finally, the elevator reached the ground floor and Seokmin was faster than Mingyu to get out, almost running down the hall to the gate.

Mingyu briefly greeted the doorman with a nod before following his friend.

“Especially to the team. No one can know. It's like a federal secret, you know?”

Mingyu grabbed Seokmin by the arm, making his friend stop and look at him. He hoped it would be enough for him to understand that he wasn't kidding, that it wasn't some kind of joke.

"Jeez, so much drama."

He got away from his friend and quickly opened the car door and got into the passenger seat.

Once again, Mingyu took a deep breath, his eyes closed. Maybe he shouldn't have promised you anything, not when the promise had nothing to do with him, and when there was a possibility of everything going wrong, then he would have to bear the burden of someone else's mistake.

"Seokmin," your voice was a warning tone. He opened the car door.

"I won't say anything!" his friend almost shouted.

"You're terrible at keeping secrets," he sighed, almost defeated.

"Nobody knows that you're actually super smart," Seokmin scoffed. "I never told on you, you know."

When you finally managed to get Mingyu and Seokmin to leave, you were beyond exhausted. It was late, already past 10 pm and you had to wake up early for class the next day. At least you would fall into bed without much trouble and you were sure that you would black out almost instantly. Except for the idea that from that moment on it was likely that the entire college would know who your brother was.

You always knew that this day would come, you just hoped it wouldn't be during college, a college that had a good hockey team — well, it was almost unfair, they were fantastic — and that lived and breathed the sport. If the news really needed to get out, you wanted it to happen when you were far away from there, in an environment where few people would like the sport. Of course, you were living off stereotypes, but you preferred to believe that you wouldn't have many colleagues who liked the sport, or that if they did, they would be indifferent.

With a sigh, you began to gather the materials that were scattered around the table, cleaning up the mess left behind. Seokmin wasn't wrong when he said that Mingyu was more skilled than expected. The prototype he made was delicate and almost perfect. Working with him wouldn't be complicated at all. With Seokmin too. He was more absent-minded, but he wasn't bad either. He could do the rough part of the work and you would refine it until it was perfect.

“Sis”

Jeonghan's voice sounded behind you and you chose not to answer. You were irritated with him for so many reasons that you didn't even know where to start, or what to say to him. You had made it explicitly clear why you didn't want him home. And, although he had never necessarily liked your reasons, Jeonghan had always respected you. If you said you didn't want something, he accepted it. But this time he had crossed all the limits.

“Sister” he tried again, this time a step closer to you.

You rested your hands on the table and leaned your body forward. 

“You know, I know that I live in your house, that you’re the one paying for my college, and that all the comfort I have here is because you pay for everything, so you can kind of do whatever you want. But this is my life.” 

You continued to put the things in the box and went to your room. You didn’t close the door because you knew Jeonghan would follow you. 

“I don’t understand what’s wrong with people knowing that I’m your brother.” 

You shook your head as you sat on the bed. He clearly didn’t understand, he never had, but he had always respected it. Apparently not anymore. 

“It’s not middle school anymore and you’re not 13 anymore. Just tell them all to go to hell,” he tried to reason, sitting in front of you. 

Jeonghan’s eyes were affectionate, without a hint of judgment. He just wanted to understand what was going on, because it was so important to you that people didn’t know.

“I didn’t change schools because girls were all over me because they wanted your number. I can’t say it didn’t affect my decision and it was the perfect excuse. But that wasn’t all.”

You didn’t know how to continue, didn’t know how to say everything without Jeonghan getting upset. Because you were sure he would.

“I didn’t want to be compared to you anymore.”

Your voice was almost a whisper and you didn’t dare look up, or in Jeonghan’s direction. You didn’t want to see the look of disappointment on his face, because you knew he would be disappointed. Not because you were feeling that way, but because you never told him anything.

“The teachers always talked about how smart you were, that despite sports you always got good grades. And I remember how you were back then, and you barely tried, but you were good at everything. I tried so hard and it was never enough.”

With each word that left your mouth, your voice got lower and weaker. When you said the words out loud, when they weren’t just cloistered in your mind anymore, they sounded almost pathetic. Jeonghan had never put any kind of pressure on you, quite the opposite. Your brother always made sure that you were you, an individual different from him.

All the ideas and traumas you had were not directly caused by Jeonghan but somehow had to do with him.

Jeonghan sighed loudly and leaned forward until he could hold your hand.

“Being good at school doesn’t mean anything, it’s just school. No one cares about it after a while.”

The laugh you let out was one of complete mockery. Jeonghan really had no idea what could be going through your head, the things that had happened and were still happening. Not that you blamed him for that, he had no way of knowing if you didn’t tell him what was going on, but part of you just wanted him to pay attention. If he paid attention, even the slightest bit, he would know.

The fact that he didn’t understand was painful.

If it were just the school teachers, it would be fine. Like he said, no one cares about school after a while. Do you know who cares about school, regardless of the moment? Parents. Parents who aren't necessarily bad, just parents who think that comparing one child to another is an excellent incentive. An incentive so good that they still do it.

Deep down you know that it's not out of malice, that it's not because they want to see you down, but it's an inevitable consequence. And, in a way, they were already so intrinsic in the conversations, little notes that didn't even seem like real comments, that you were sure that Jeonghan didn't even notice them.

"Okay," you said, just wanting to end the conversation. "I'll talk to both of them tomorrow, and apologize to Mingyu."

Jeonghan nodded, knowing full well that the conversation was over and that even if he pressed, he wouldn't be able to get anything else out of you.

"I have to leave early tomorrow," he said, "but if you want, can we have dinner together and talk about it?"

"I'll accept dinner, but I'll skip the talk."

taglist: @wonwooz1-blog, @mirtaspace, @feat-sun, @belladaises, @immabecreepin, @miriamxsworld , @aaniag , @byunparklimchoi , @k-drama-adict , @maiamorrrrrrrrrrrr, @roguesthetic , @sofix-hc7 , @moonlightgrleric, @mixling-blog , @haowonbins , @valgracia , @slut4donghyuck , @muantuankim, @shuabby1994 , @sukiscones, @Plumings, @aaasia_111, @bouclesdefeu , @hyangg11, @sea-moon-star , @writingbarnes @strawberryroseee , @lovely-fics-for-me, @lixisoul99, @jjeongddol , @whoa-jo , @poiibbtt , @seokqt , @palmsugr , @hyneyedfiz , @ho34gojo , @Lixisoul99, @babybae-shisui , @wmewtew , @cixrosie , @dxntletmegxyoonie

if you enjoyed reading, please reblog and leave a comment, it really does mean the world to me and i would love to know your thoughts. thank you! 💕

if you want to be tagged in my next fics, please fill out this form

you can read my other fics here ➝ masterlist

[asahicore]

cherry pits - psh (m)

this work contains smut - minors please do not interact

pairing. dad!sunghoon x fem!reader

synopsis. Your alarmingly empty bank account forces you to find a last-minute summer job so that you can afford a trip with your friends. The extremely handsome customer that comes into the store just happens to be a young single dad who's renovating the old house next to yours. The tension that settles between the two of you as you start helping him fix up his house soon becomes unbearable, but it's all one-sided anyway, right?

(Spoiler: wrong.)

genre. DILF AUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!, neighbors au, s2l, summer au, slight age gap (reader is 21 and hoon 26), reader is so down bad over sunghoon its actually crazy but also extremely relatable cause this is sunghoon we're talking about, fluff and smut, sex gets freakyyy ngl

word count. 12.9k

a/n. hey sisters had no time to write anything this week so i am coming back (everybody boos) with a repost yayyy!!! i actually love this story idkw i just find it fun so i hope you guys will enjoy rereading / reading it !!!! as always let me know ur thoughts.. even if they're just incomprehensible screaming (bad or good).. im happy w anything ok bye!!!

You’ve always wondered about the ratio of cherry to pit. Such a big pit for so little flesh, isn’t it? Yet that’s never stopped you from biting into the small fruit, eating what you could and spitting out the unwanted part. You actually rather enjoy this whole process. Bite, eat, spit. You could repeat this with huge bowls of cherries at a time until they upset your stomach and you had to stop for your own good.

Bite, eat, spit is exactly what you’re doing when, with a trembling finger, you finally brave to open your banking app and check your balance. It’s the beginning of summer, and after two semesters of intense studying and too-much-coffee drinking, you think you deserve three long months of doing nothing but hanging out in your childhood bedroom and eating the food your parents buy and make. You’re especially looking forward to the vacation in Mexico you have planned with your friends at the end of August.

One look at your bank account and your dreams of white beaches and seas so blue you couldn’t tell them apart from the sky shatter around you, the sad, low numbers on the screen sneering at you mockingly. You were sure you had saved enough money from part-time jobs and generous relatives, but now you regret all of those night-outs and lazy takeaways. If you had cut down on those, maybe you wouldn’t have to go through the hassle of finding a summer job at the last minute, which you would definitely have to do if you wanted to eat something on that dear beach of yours and not just starve to death under the glaring sun.

That was it - tomorrow, you’d go and get a job. Today, however, you’d enjoy your last day of respite and eat some more cherries, or maybe make some jam and a pie so your parents wouldn’t chide you for eating them all, and then go pick some more from the three trees in your backyard. You’d sit outside, enjoying the warmth of the sun while you read or, if you couldn’t be asked, while you listened to the bustle of the old and worn-down house next door being renovated. You’re surprised someone had the courage to buy it and give it a new life, but you assume that’s the kind of courage that comes with having time and money. 

Yesterday night, you’d heard a little girl playing outside until her mom called her in saying it was time to go, so you made up a story of your neighbors being newlyweds that had decided they’d had enough of the city and wanted to raise their daughter in a calmer town far from busy streets and loud honks. You could bring them some cherries, maybe in jam or pie form, as a housewarming gift.

Unfortunately, the day passed and you were too busy doing nothing to actually get around to baking, so you decided to do nothing some more and then go to bed, needing rest before your big job hunt.

You’d gravely overestimated the amount of job opportunities in your small hometown, only receiving apologetic looks from the store owners as they tell you they don’t need any help, or worse, already have someone. Damn those 16-year-olds who only get summer jobs so they can blow their whole pay in a couple weeks before school starts again. You, on the other hand, need that money for important things, like sipping on a cocktail at a bar with a seaview.

The local hardware store next to the train station is your saving grace. It looks quite small from the outside, but once you step inside, rows of lamps and mirrors in all shapes and sizes along with all kinds of household needs welcome you, followed by a section for gardening and pet caretaking. The basement is where all the paints and brushes were, as well as the more technical (technical to you, at least) products, like bolts and tools or kitchen and bathroom appliances.

A lot of people undertake renovations in their homes during their free time in the summer, so it’s important for the store to have their experts helping out customers in their dedicated aisles rather than working behind the till and restocking the shelves, which is what you will be doing for the next two months. The pay is slightly above minimum wage and with twenty-one hours of work a week, you’ll earn more than enough to enjoy your vacation. You start tomorrow.

Your co-workers are happy to welcome a new face into their team. They’re nice even if they have the tendency to drone on about different types of tools and the importance of choosing the right brush for the surface you’re painting, which you don’t particularly care about, but you think you might as well learn as much as you can during your time here; it might always come in handy later.

As you expected, it isn’t the most stimulating job ever, but you aren’t bored out of your mind either. You make small talk with customers as they explain their purchases, some more defensively than others, even if you didn’t ask. You make sure to restock the shelves correctly and sometimes ask for help when you feel your arms giving out after hours of carrying heavy stuff. When no one’s in, you like to rearrange the cute bathroom decorations so that they make a little rainbow of toothbrush and soap holders.

You were daydreaming about what you would do with your friends in Mexico and all the cherries you could eat there when a man so handsome you thought he was a part of your dream walks in. He doesn’t notice (or maybe he just ignores it, you’re not sure) your gawking and smiles at you, saying “hello” before turning his attention to the map which details where everything is stored at the entrance of the shop. You manage a small “h-hello” back that probably doesn’t even reach his ears, and you curse yourself for doing a poor job of greeting a customer just because said customer looks like he’s been pushed from the heavens above onto this unworthy earth by the other angels who were jealous of his beauty. 

You stay put behind the counter the whole time he’s there to avoid the potential embarrassment of running into him in a random aisle and making a fool of yourself. There isn’t much to do anyway, so you rearrange the organic protein bars and chewing-gum at the counter and count all the money in the cash register to distract yourself. He doesn’t spend a very long time browsing and after twenty minutes, you see him approach with a cart full of the biggest cans of paint the store offers. It’s mostly white paint, but there are some browns and grays, and one of pink as well.

You thank God for those twenty minutes because they allowed you to get a hold of yourself so that you didn’t gape at him like a dead fish instead of scanning his articles, which is what you are very professionally and expertly doing. “That’s a lot of paint,” you comment lightheartedly, partly just to prove to yourself that you can also speak in front of this man.

“I know,” he chuckles, and it seems unfair that his voice should be just as attractive as his face. “The previous owners of the house I just bought had terrible taste in wallpaper and wall colors, so I have to repaint basically the whole house. Everything has to go, really. The floors, the furniture, the lights.”

“Sounds like you’re going to have a busy summer. That’ll be $132.76, please.”

“I’ll pay by card,” he says as he brings his wallet out from his back pocket and inserts his card into the reader, which allows you to look freely at his tanned arms and the veins that protrude here and there. He can’t be older than thirty, so there’s probably not that much of an age difference between the two of you, but damn does he look more mature in the sexiest way possible than all of the male college students you’re used to seeing on a daily basis. If anything, he reminds you of the hot young Linguistics professor your whole department likes to drool over. 

The beep of the payment being accepted snaps you out of your daze. “And yeah, it’ll sure be a busy summer. I’ll need a lot of stuff from here, so you might have to get used to seeing me around,” he says with a smile that makes your heart skip a beat. There’s no way this walking Greek god of a man is actually flirting with you, but the glint in his eyes tells you it wasn’t just an off-hand comment.

“I could get used to that,” you surprise yourself by replying confidently, your smile mirroring his as pretty dimples appear on each side of his face.

You hand him the receipt and notice his eyes flickering down to your name tag before trapping yours in his gaze once again. You don’t think you ever want to look away. “I’ll see you around, Y/N,” he says and walks out with his cart and his tons of paint before you can say anything, lest ask his name, except for “see you.”

You take a deep breath in and another out when he’s out of sight, trying to calm your racing heart. You can’t wait to rave to the girls’ group chat about this, but one of your coworkers calls you for help and you have to put the handsome stranger to the back of your mind for a while.

—

That weekend, your parents ask you to do something about the cherries slowly starting to spoil in the fridge, so you put on your headphones and listen to an audiobook for entertainment, then get to pitting. It feels wrong to listen to The Kiss Quotient and its many smut scenes when your parents are coming and going out of the room, but what they don’t know won’t kill them; you just try to keep your reactions to a minimum during the extra spicy scenes.

Pitting cherries is an arduous task that always takes longer than you think it will, but you never complain about it. You’ve found the perfect technique of cutting them in half around the pit, turning the small fruit without squeezing it, extracting the stone and making sure it doesn’t get confused and end up in the bowl with the pitted cherries, all without tiring your wrists after ten minutes. A surprise pit in a cherry pie can add to the charm of a homemade dessert, but you’d rather not have to spit out five of them while trying to eat one slice.

You prepare a crumbly dough to make two classic American-style pies and fill four jars with cherry jam that you cook while the doughs rest. It’s almost offensive how small the cherries become as they cook, the amount that fills those four jars having filled eight before, but you decide there’s no reason to take it personally since the cherries don’t do it on purpose, and put the jars away to cool down. You roll out the first rested dough and despair for a bit when it keeps on falling apart, but it just makes it more satisfying once you have it perfectly thinly rolled out and covering the tin. The second one is a bit nicer to you and you only have to try rolling it out twice. 

Two hours later, as the sun finally starts to relent and a cooler breeze flows through the air, the pies are all baked, cooled and ready to be eaten. You leave one for you and your parents to enjoy later, then head over to the next house to greet your new neighbors with the other pie. You knock and wait for a good thirty seconds before getting any sort of response, making you think no one’s in.

“Y/N?” a semi-familiar voice calls out, and your head whips in its direction. If this were a cartoon or a 2012 teen show, you’d probably drop the pie tin, but thankfully, your hands aren’t that sweaty, and the shock of the man from the other day at the store being your neighbor isn’t that great, because of course, of course he’s your neighbor. You’re Y/N, after all; the almighty gods above would never let you have a boring, uneventful summer. Of course the hot new man in town is your neighbor.

“Oh! Hi! Guess we’re neighbors. Ha,” you say with a clumsy smile, holding the tin over your forearm as your other hand shields your eyes from the sunlight so you can look at him without squinting your eyes.

“Neighbors?” he repeats as he joins you on the front porch, taking off his gloves dirtied by the mud and using the back of his hand to wipe off some sweat from his forehead. The sweat makes his hair stick to his face and there are small beads of it falling from his hairline down onto his white t-shirt. You detect the slightest of stubbles on his chin and upper lip, probably from not having shaved for just a day or two. He’s even tanner than when you saw him a few days ago, and his thick eyebrows form a straight line as he frowns in what you guess is tiredness and perhaps confusion from seeing you in regular clothes and holding a pie tin on his porch. For a second, you’re scared he might think you’re some kind of stalker, but you nod and tilt your head towards your house. 

“Yep. That one just over there behind you.”

He turns his upper body to take a look at your house and nods slowly as he turns back around, gaze finding yours again like the other day at the store. You have no idea who this man is - hell, you don’t even know his name - but good lord are you attracted to him, especially when he gives you that unreadable smile that shows off his dimples. 

“Huh. What a coincidence,” he says, and that could mean anything in the world, but you hope he means it in a good way. “I’m Sunghoon, by the way.” he adds, extending his hand for you to take, which you do, and the simple action of shaking his hand without eye contact ever breaking is enough to send shivers down your spine. Hopefully, this goes unnoticed by this Sunghoon.

A walking wet dream. That’s what this man is. He’s walked right out of your deepest Wattpad-induced fantasies and into the house next door. Probably doesn’t help that you’d been listening to literary porn just fifteen minutes prior. 

“Is that pie?” he asks as he releases your hand.

“It is, cherry pie I made myself with cherries from our backyard. A housewarming gift, if you will. Here,” you reply, offering him the tin.

He takes it from your hands, the tips of his fingers slightly grazing yours, on purpose or not, you’re not sure. He lifts some of the aluminum covering the pie and peeks underneath, then hums appreciatively. “Thanks, it looks really good. I’ve been living off of ready-meals and casseroles from the neighbors, so this’ll be really nice.”

“Well we’ve got tons of cherries, so feel free to ask whenever you want some,” you offer, and he nods. A small silence settles between the two of you and you’re about to excuse yourself so it doesn’t get awkward when he invites you in, asking if you’d like to have a piece with him.

“If you want to, I mean. I was gonna take a break anyway,” he says somewhat coyly, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. You’re surprised to see him being anything else other than confident and self-assured, but it only makes him look cuter in your eyes.

“Sure,” you accept with a smile, letting him lead you inside the house.

“Sorry, it smells like paint all over the house. That’s why I was outside, doing some gardening while I aired the house out,” he explains. “Let me just get some plates and a knife out. And something for us to drink. Do you want to drink something? I’ve got water, or some iced tea or lemonade. The grandma across the street made some for me,” he says all at once, and you suppress a giggle at his sudden nervous behavior.

“Sunghoon?”

“Yeah?” he responds almost immediately, turning to you just as you both reach the kitchen.

“Just water is fine.”

A shy smile makes his dimples appear once again as he nods. “Okay, sounds good.” You help him carry everything to the back porch and set down the glasses and a jug of water on a table with two chairs around it.

“The porches are the only parts I won’t have to fix up too much, for some reason.”

“You’re going to redo the whole house yourself?” you ask, surprised, as you pour two glasses of water and he serves you a slice of cherry pie (“there might be some stray cherry pits, so be careful,” you warn as he sets a slice on his plate).

“A lot of it, yeah, but I’ve also got some people to help out. My dad’s a carpenter so I know my way around these things, but I also know it’s better and faster to have more than one man on the job, so some guys he works with come a couple times a week.”

“Yeah, with the state this house is in, you’d need more than a summer if you did everything yourself,” you comment, and he chuckles, agreeing. “My friends and I used to make stories about how this place is haunted, you know,” you say jokingly.

“Please don’t jinx my house from the get-go,” he says, making you laugh.

“Sorry, sorry. It’ll be nice seeing it all fixed-up, actually.”

“Have you lived here long?” he asks, looking at you thoughtfully as he takes another bite of the pie. “This is really good, by the way.”

“Thanks. And yeah, my whole life. I go away when semester starts but come back for the holidays and the summer.”

“So you're a student?”

“Yeah, just at the state university a few hours away. Not too far away that it’s a hassle traveling back, but not too close that I go home every weekend. What about you, what do you do?”

You wait for his answer while he swallows his mouthful and take another bite yourself. “I teach,” he starts as he dabs the corners of his lips with a napkin. “Fifth graders, on the other side of town. I used to live in a small apartment near the school I work at but it’s nicer, having more space. I saved enough money to buy this house and fix it up, so here I am now,” he says, gesturing to the house and the garden with his arms. 

You notice his use of the first person pronoun when he talks about where he used to live and his house now, which makes you wonder if it’s just him, even though you were sure you heard a woman and a young girl’s voices the other day. Surely, if he wasn’t single, he wouldn’t have invited you in or given you flirtatious looks, right? Or were you reading totally wrong into this and he was just an exceptionally friendly person?

You put these questions to the side and continue chatting with Sunghoon, letting the subject of his marital status come up on its own during your conversation. And indeed, you get your answer when he tells you about the different parts of the house he plans on having, one of them being a bedroom for his daughter.

“Oh, so you have a daughter? How old is she?” you ask as you take a sip of water, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. Considering his age, you expect that his child will be one, two years old max, so his answer makes you almost choke on your drink.

“She’s turning eight this summer.”

“Eight?” you repeat as you set your glass down, looking at him wide-eyed. So much for nonchalance. “But you’re so-”

“Young? Yeah, I know,” he interrupts with a knowing smile, probably used to this kind of reaction. “I’m 26,” he adds, then watches as you do the simple math in your head. When you turn to him with a surprised look, he answers your question before you’ve even asked it. “Yep, I had her when I was 18.”

“Wow,” is all you can say. “Can I ask what happened?”

“Sure. I mean, it’s nothing extraordinary or anything. I was in my last year of high school, and I got my girlfriend at the time pregnant. We’d only been dating four months but her parents wouldn’t let her get an abortion. They’re really religious. They took care of our baby, with the help of my parents, while I went to community college and she retook senior year since she had to drop out halfway through the year. No, we’re not together anymore, if you’re wondering,” he says, catching you off guard, as if he’d read your thoughts. 

He chuckles before sighing and continues. “If none of this had happened, we’d probably have broken up before going off to college and proceeded to forget about each other. We started out living with her parents, then got that small apartment I told you about when she found a job. We’re not on bad terms by any means, but we’ve just not been in love since Chaeryeong turned 2, probably. We’ve been more roommates than a couple for the past six years. And you know, we kept on living together for Chaer mainly, but she’s found a new boyfriend and I wanted to have my own place. Which has led me here.”

You nod slowly, letting the whole story sink in. “You’re both handling this situation really maturely, it sounds like. I’ve heard of so many teenage parents fighting all the time and not taking care of their kids properly.”

“She’s already got a weird parental situation, it’s the least we can do for her to behave like adults, you know.”

“Right, of course,” you say, nodding again. Your hot new neighbor was actually a DILF, you realized a bit inappropriately, perhaps. Cherry on top.

He tells you a bit more about his daughter and you keep talking until your dad calls you, asking you why you’re not home at dinner time, and you only notice then how long you’ve been sitting there with Sunghoon, just talking. You tell him you feel bad for taking up so much of his time but he shakes your apologies off.

“It was my pleasure, really. And thanks again for the pie, I think Chaer will love it.”

He walks you to the front door and calls out your name after you’ve waved goodbye and started walking. You didn’t know you had been expecting him to do anything until you heard the hopeful tone in your own voice. “Yeah?”

“You any good with kids?” he asks, leaning against the doorway with crossed arms and a smirk that makes your heart flutter.

Although you’ve only got one older brother, you have younger cousins as well as older ones that have babies of their own, so you’re not a complete stranger to kids, but more importantly, you like them. They have the world to learn, but they say surprisingly smart things and have really cute faces.

“I’d say that I am, yeah,” you reply, a smile growing on your face, mirroring his expression.

“Good,” he says, and pauses a second for good measure. “I’ll see you later.”

“See you later, Sunghoon,” you say as you turn back and head to your house, letting him enjoy the view of you walking away. 

On the short way home, you realize that you completely have the hots for your neighbor, although you probably knew that before. Is it twisted that you like him more now that you know he’s got a kid? Probably a little bit, but you’re not going to fight it. He’s single, after all. And not even thirty. A five-year gap isn’t unheard of. 

Your parents ask you where you’ve been as you set the table and get ready for dinner. “Just over at our new neighbor’s house to give him some pie and say hi,” you say as you toss the salad in its bowl, spreading the dressing evenly. 

“Ooh, the neighbor,” your mother echoes knowingly, wiggling her eyebrows, and steals a leaf of lettuce when it falls from the bowl because of your vigorous tossing. “We should have him over at some point, welcome him into the neighborhood. I’ve seen him a bit, you know. Out painting on his front porch or when he was in his garden the same time as me. He’s a very attractive young man,” she says, lowering her voice so your dad doesn’t hear even though he’s outside grilling the meat. “Do you know how old he is? Looks a bit young for a homeowner to me, but who knows what young people are up to these days.

“He’s twenty-six, and he’s saved a lot of money. Plus, I don’t think that house was very expensive. From what he’s told me, the renovations will basically cost as much as the house itself. He’s also got a kid.”

“Aw, must be a cute baby,” she says as your father walks in, carrying a tray of steaming barbecued steaks and potatoes.

“She’s eight,” you say bluntly, causing them both to look at you with wide eyes.

“Oh, right, then. Happens,” your mother says, bringing her glass of water to her lips and taking a sip from it. “Is he still with the mother?”

“They broke up a while ago, but they’re on good terms,” you say, and your mom nods slowly at the information.

“So, he’s single, huh?” she says, trying to hide her smile, earning herself a groan from your dad and a chuckle from you. 

“C’mon, mom!”

“What? You can’t deny that he’s attractive, and he’s single. Plus, you two must get along well if you spent a couple hours talking. Sure, he’s got a kid, but you love those, don’t you?”

“Mom, you of all people would know kids aren’t pets. Dating someone with an eight-year-old isn’t the same as dating someone with a cat.

“No one’s asking you to be that girl’s mom,” she says, dishing out some meat for the three of you. “I’d go get that man, if I were you.”

Your dad shakes his head and you eat your food as you listen to them bickering with a smile. You think about what your mother said - should you go and get Sunghoon? Your heart says yes, but your brain is a bit more reluctant. Another part of your body, lower down there, is screaming ‘yes’ at you.

He does live right by, after all.

That night, you FaceTime your roommate and best friend from college and bring her up to date about ‘the hot man from the store the other day.’ She paints her toenails but listens intently as she always does when you talk about boys, humming and chuckling here and there.

“God, Y/N, I didn’t know you had daddy issues, of all things.”

You gasp fake-dramatically. “Excuse me, I do not! I was attracted to him before I knew he was a dad, I’ll let you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Let me know when you guys actually hook up, I’m curious whether older men are actually better,” she says, making you scoff.

“I hope he is. I’m very much tired of those boys that don’t know where the clit is and use too much tongue.”

“You know, when I complain to my mom about guys, she always tells me to wait it out a few years. She says they get more mature and, well, she didn’t say that outright, but she very heavily implied that the sex is much, much better. Kinda gross hearing it from her, but it’s good information.”

You hum. “Well, he’s not that much older… But let’s hope that it still makes a difference,” you say, and then move on to another topic. 

—

One thing that eating cherries has taught you is that if you want to enjoy eating the sweet flesh, you’ll need to deal with the pit as well. Ever the grand philosopher, you realized soon enough that this was applicable to real life and not just your favorite fruit. Wanna get a good grade on your test? Gotta study for it. Wanna go on holiday to Mexico? Gotta find a summer job and earn money.

Wanna make your way to Sunghoon’s bed? Gotta seduce him.

Over the following days, you stand behind the counter at the hardware store, elbow perched on the hard surface, head resting on your palm and vision fuzzy as you daydream about your next encounter with Sunghoon. More often than not, a customer will clear their throat to awkwardly let you know of their presence and you’ll have to exchange your imagined dialogue with Sunghoon for a quick apology and some pleasantries; more often than not, a coworker will call out your name for some help just as you get to the juicy part of your reverie. In those moments, you always feel like you’ve been caught red-handed watching softcore porn, even if no one knows the last thing about what goes on in your head, nor do they care. 

Much like the first time he walked into the store, when he does again on a Thursday morning, you think your daydreams have just gone too far and you’re now hallucinating. But, lo and behold, this is the true Park Sunghoon in the flesh, and he smiles and waves at you as he strides in before disappearing behind one of the many aisles.

You spend the next fifteen minutes going over witty conversation starters that will surely make him fall for you, only for you to stutter out a “h-hi, Sunghoon,” when he finally reaches the counter.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he jokes, and you laugh a bit too hard for a comment that isn’t that funny.

“How are the renovations going?” you ask as you scan his articles - some more paint and brushes, lots of tile glue, a bunch of nails and two different sizes of turnscrews. He frowns in concentration at the snacks next to the counter until he caves in and gets a chocolate protein bar that’s more sugar than protein. 

“Pretty okay,” he starts. “I’m in a bit of a rush, cause Chaer is already coming in two weeks and I need to have finished at least the interior by that time. My dad’s friends helped me get the roof done, so that’s good, but now they’re all busy with other sites so it's just me. Right now I’m redoing the tiles in the bathrooms. You need so much damn glue,” he says with a chuckle.

You think for a second, then timidly offer, “I could help out, you know. If you needed me to.” 

He looks at you with raised eyebrows, halfway through getting his card out of his wallet. “Really?”

“I mean, I don’t have much experience with this kinda stuff, but I’ve picked up a few things here and there from working here. If it saves you time, I could do the easy things. This job isn’t particularly physically demanding so I’ve still got energy at the end of the day. That’s $78.96, please.”

A small smile appears on his face as he inserts his card into the reader. He punches in his code and then returns your gaze. “That could be nice, actually.”

And that’s how you find yourself over at Sunghoon’s house in denim shorts and your dad’s old t-shirts almost everyday for the next two weeks, helping him fix up the old two-storey home. He measures out the perfect length for wood planks or marble tiles that you assist him in fastening to the floors of different rooms and he fixes holes in walls that you paint over afterwards. Sometimes on your breaks, you share a bowl of cherries that you brought from your garden. (One morning, you tried to make cherry juice out of them, but when after almost two hours of pitting the liquid barely filled a glass, you decided that it was too much effort and that you’d keep on just eating them and baking the occasional pie.) You asked him to tell you what each of the rooms upstairs would be and you realized that the window of his room faced yours directly. The blinds were down as they had always been, so you hadn’t known what the room would be.

“I’ve been sleeping on the couch since I haven’t gotten around to fixing up this room yet. Guess I should get to it, though,” he says, giving you a look that blurs the meaning of his words so that you’re not sure what he’s implying, which happens a bit too often with Sunghoon.

And you’d think that spending the better part of two weeks with the current man of your dreams would be amazing, right? 

Wrong. It’s unbearable.

Maybe that’s exaggerating it - it’s mostly fun, and sometimes unbearable. Usually, you’re an avid fan of sexual tension, especially with attractive men like Sunghoon. Lingering gazes, eye contacts when there shouldn’t be any, remarks with a deeper meaning that they let on, barely-there touches on the back of your hand or on your waist that manage to take your breath away. These are all very fine things that keep your heart bouncing and a blush on your cheeks, but they are supposed to amount to something more in the end. Maybe you’re impatient, but after two weeks of sending sex through your eyes to Sunghoon, you get the feeling that he doesn’t reciprocate your desire. One afternoon, you’d made sure to go and sunbathe in your bikini at the exact moment he was doing some work outside, and even then, he merely gave your body a one-over and disappeared a few minutes later inside his house. When he came back about ten minutes later, he could still barely look at you.

At the same time, there’s no way he doesn’t know what he’s doing when he stands close behind you, letting you feel the warmth of his chest against your back, big, rough hands enveloping yours as he demonstrates how to cut a plank of wood with the machine. There’s no way the way he smirks when the action turns you into a stammering mess is innocent, either.

Yet nothing happens. The tension is thick enough to be cut with a knife, but maybe Sunghoon hasn’t bought cutlery yet. The air is already heavy from the heat and the relentlessness of the sun, but this thing between you and him makes it almost suffocating, in somehow the best yet worst way possible. You’re this close to simply throwing your naked body at him, and it doesn’t help that you see his flexing, working muscles and beads of sweat on his hairline everyday. On the days he wears shorts, which is most days, all you can think of is getting off on his thick thighs, of his hands holding you tightly by the waist, of the way he’d look at you, eyes clouded over, of the words he’d whisper in your-

Your phone buzzes, interrupting you in your horny downward spiral. It’s your dear mother telling you to come home for dinner. As you pick up your phone, a second buzz. Ask Sunghoon if he wants to eat with us. 

You find him in his bedroom, adding the last touches to the walls. “I think I’ll be able to sleep here starting tomorrow night. I just need to go buy a bed,” he says when he sees your figure standing in the doorway.

“We can go together if you want,” you blurt before you can stop yourself. Hoping it’ll make you seem less weird, you add, “I’ve got really good taste in furniture.”

“Is that so?” he questions, turning to you with a smile. “I’d appreciate the second pair of eyes, actually. There’s a lot of things I need to get.”

“Yeah, I didn’t wanna comment on it, but I think you’ll end up needing more than a couch, a plastic dining table and two chairs,” you tease, making him roll his eyes lightheartedly. “We can go to that huge second-hand store they have just outside of town. You’ll be surprised how good - and cheap - the furniture is there.”

“Sounds good,” he nods, and checks his watch. “Are you going home?”

“I am. My mom’s invited you over for dinner, if you’d like,” you say, tilting your head at him.

He raises his eyebrows in delighted surprise. “I’d love to. Just need to shower first.”

“That’s fine. I’ll go home, just come over whenever you’re ready.” You exchange quick see you laters and you head home, taking a shower yourself and making sure to use your best-smelling body lotion.

Sunghoon arrives half an hour later with a bouquet of roses in his hands and an award-winning smile on his face. You let him in and he greets your parents, offering your mother the bouquet. “Sorry I took so much time getting here, I wanted to pick these out as a thank you.”

You can tell your mother is pleased to the heavens as she waves him off, leading him inside your house. “That’s awfully nice of you, Mr Park-”

“Call me Sunghoon, please,” he says with a warm smile.

“Right, Sunghoon. And no worries, you’re just on time. Please, sit.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Oh, no, you’re working all day fixing up that house, just sit and relax. We’re very happy to have you over, aren’t we?” your mother says, sending a very obvious smile your way, which makes you furrow your eyebrows and shake your head lightly at her, silently telling her to shut up. Sunghoon chuckles at the exchange but says nothing and you want to bury yourself and your mother ten feet underground.

Sunghoon sits across from you at the dinner table, which allows you to stare unabashedly at him as he works his charm on your parents. He’s the neighbor, so technically, he’s not a boyfriend you brought home to meet them, but still, you can’t help but compare him to those few boys that you did bring home. None of them were a disaster, but none of them went as smoothly as this, either. There were always some awkward silences and dry chuckles with your past boyfriends, but Sunghoon clearly knows how to make parents happy. Maybe because he lived with his ex’s parents for so long, or maybe because he’s a parent himself. Either way, it only adds to your desire to take all of his clothes and let him rail you into next week. Too bad he clearly doesn’t feel the same way, you remind yourself with an audible sigh, which makes him look curiously at you, but you brush it off with a smile.

You watch as he accepts a beer, compliments the food and the house, talks football with your dad, accepts another beer, and shares teaching anecdotes with your mom, who herself is an elementary school teacher. You jump in every now and then when you have something witty to add or someone asks your opinion on something, but most of the time, you sit back and enjoy, happy that everything is going well. 

You bring out your infamous cherry pie that you’d baked the previous day along with some vanilla ice cream for dessert, and smile when Sunghoon tells you how much he’d been waiting to have some of it again, trying not to blush as his gaze stays focused on yours for a second too long. Thankfully, your parents don’t notice, too busy cutting themselves a slice. 

He stays for another hour or so, until the sun has set and the streetlamps and the moonlight are the only things keeping the world visible. Your mom forces him to accept tupperwares full of leftovers from the night and makes him promise to come back with his daughter. Sneakily, she tells you to help him carry the tupperwares home even though he’s more than able to do it himself, then hugs him goodbye, hurrying you out of the door.

Sunghoon hasn’t yet changed the lightbulbs to more efficient ones, so his kitchen bathes in the faint glow of the overhead lighting as you put away the leftovers in his fridge. He stands a bit to your right close behind you, closer than needed to simply hand you the tupperwares he was holding. When everything is stored, you turn around, but you’re trapped between his body and his arm that holds the fridge door open. With his free hand, he takes you by the waist and pulls you gently towards him. “Careful,” he says so quietly, it’s almost a whisper, and closes the fridge door behind you. 

He’s never been this forward with you, and even though you’ve fantasized many times about this exact moment, now that it’s really happening, you don’t know what to do except to search for an explanation in his eyes. His eyes that are looking right into yours and are a bit clouded over, from the alcohol or the proximity between the two of you or both, you don’t know, but that also have the twinkle of a smile in them. 

His lips are close enough to kiss, you think, and as if on cue, his gaze drifts down to your slightly parted lips. “You’re very pretty, Y/N,” he says, before sealing your lips with his own. You respond immediately to his kiss - you’ve thought too much about it to stand there and do nothing - but it’s all so slow and so soft that you’re not sure if it’s actually happening, so dreamlike it all feels.

You’re called back to reality when his other hand finds your waist, your own hands coming up to his shoulders before one of them snakes its way to the nape of his neck, tugging lightly at his hair. This seems to change something in Sunghoon, who all of a sudden tightens his hold on your waist, his arms wrapping around it to bring you closer to him. His kiss gets faster and deeper too, and, to your surprise but not your distaste, a bit desperate. You’re happy if you have on him half of the power he has on you. You taste sweet vanilla ice cream and tangy beer on his tongue, and it’s not at all unpleasant. It makes you want to eat cherries together so you can then taste them in his kiss. 

A lustful sigh escapes your lips and then the warmth disappears all at once. Sunghoon looks at you like you just woke him up from a deep slumber and takes a step back away from you. You call out for him worriedly and the sound of his name seems to make him think he did something terribly wrong.

“I-I’m sorry, Y/N, I don’t know what came over me. We shouldn’t do this, it’s not- I shouldn’t have done that,” he sighs, looking defeatedly at the ground.

“Why?” you ask quietly, almost inaudible.

“You should go home,” he snaps, then closes his eyes as if in pain, cringing at his harsh tone. “I’m sorry. I think you should go home, it’s getting late,” he repeats, softer this time, but the words still sting.

“O-okay,” you say to the floor, already feeling tears well up in your eyes. You feel like you just got rejected by your high school crush, and the humiliation makes you want to crawl into a hole and die. 

Sunghoon sighs again. “I’ll let you know tomorrow about the furniture shopping, yeah? Chaeryeong is coming in the morning so we can go with her.”

“O-okay,” you repeat, surprised he still wants to do that with you. “Good night, Sunghoon,” you say without looking at him and scurry out of his house.

“Good night, Y/N,” Sunghoon answers to the emptiness after you’ve left, touching his lips with the tips of his fingers and feeling the ghost of your kiss there.

—

Truth be told, you haven’t always loved cherries. Because of a heinous lie your older brother had made you believe when you were just six years old, you hadn’t eaten cherries for two summers in a row. It was the summer your parents had finally allowed you to eat cherries as they came from the trees in your backyard - beforehand, they’d been too scared that you’d choke on the pit or swallow it unknowingly, and had always prepared purées or other forms that cherries can take for you to eat, so to be finally handed the small fruit and told “go ahead, try it,” felt like an honor. 

A simple “don’t forget to spit out the pit” from your mother had sufficed for you to be careful, and yet, your brother had thought a fear tactic would be more effective. “If you swallow it, a tree will grow inside your belly and make you puke out cherries,” he’d lied when it was just the two of you at the outdoor table. 

“Really?” you asked him in disbelief, horror written all over your face as you looked at the seemingly harmless yet deadly fruit in your hand. You’d already eaten two and were in the middle of eating a third; your brother nodding ‘yes’ in response was all it took for you to spit out the cherry furiously and immediately start sobbing, afraid you’d swallowed one even though all three pits were right there on the table, a guarantee that no unwanted flora would grow inside of you. 

Your mother rushed outside at the sound of your wailing and quickly put two and two together when she saw your brother laughing uncontrollably while you hid your face in your hands, desolately imagining your future as a walking cherry tree. She held you tight in her arms as she told your brother off and reassured you that he was just playing a stupid prank on you. Still, the simple thought of swallowing a pit had terrified you and you were unable to eat cherries for the remainder of the summer and the one after that.

This is the story you tell Chaeryeong and her dad as the three of you sit outside together, making them laugh - although, a few minutes later, when Sunghoon is gone to the bathroom away, Chaer leans over the table and whispers, “It’s not true, is it?” so you reassure her that you’ve eaten cherries your whole life and have never had one single root take life in your tummy. 

It’s been a bit over a week after you shared that kiss in his kitchen, and the awkward atmosphere is just starting to fade. You’re glad he didn’t ignore you after that night, even if pretending nothing happened when both of you are very aware that something did happen is only the slightly better alternative. It’s a refreshing change from boys that sleep with you and then act like you don’t exist, for sure.

The kiss hasn’t done anything to burst the tension; if anything, it’s made it even more electric. You catch him looking at your lips more than once and you wonder why he still acts the same way as before when he’s made it very clear he didn’t think kissing you was a good idea. Catching him shirtless one night in his bedroom doesn’t help, and neither does him catching you staring at him - you’d quickly shut the curtains, but it was too late, and he’d seen you ogling his toned chest and abs.

At least, the fact that Chaeryeong is here forces a bubbly atmosphere upon you, and you hope you’re not crazy when you notice him fondly looking at the both of you interacting. Chaer is an outgoing little girl and seems to have liked you as soon as you complimented the toy puppy in her hand, saying you used to have the same and it was your favorite.

The day you went food shopping was practically hell to get through. One evening, you were holding onto Sunghoon for dear life, finally kissing him, and the next afternoon, you were browsing through the endless aisles of your local IKEA, holding his daughter’s hand and pretending like you hadn’t kissed her daddy.

When it got to the bedroom part of the store, you and Chaer decided to try all the mattresses and find the most comfortable one. You usually were never one for seating and laying on random beds in stores, but there was a kid with you, so you were sure it’d be fine. When you found the one you liked most, you looked up at Sunghoon from your position and said, “This one’s pretty good, Sunghoon.” His immediately reddening cheeks told you everything you needed to know and you quickly sat up, clearing your throat. He tested the mattress by pushing his palm against it and muttered a “yeah, it’s pretty good” before scribbling down the number of the mattress onto the small sheet of paper customers use to remember which products they wanted.

Of course, now that Chaer is with him and most of the work in the house is done, save for some minor things that Sunghoon can finish up on his own, you spend a lot less time together. You hate that you miss him so much. You miss the way he makes you feel, like your whole body is on fire with just one look or one touch, the way his stupid jokes make you laugh or how endeared he looks when he talks about his daughter. Seeing him with her only adds to your stupid crush - he’s doting, protective and caring, makes sure she has everything to be happy and manages to treat her at once like the kid that she is but also like a human that has opinions and feelings. He’s a really good dad, and that does nothing whatsoever to stop your DILF fantasies, although now, it’s really Sunghoon that you want, and the fact that he’s a dad isn’t a dealbreaker, it just makes him that much better.

You hate that you miss him, and yet being with him is somehow worse, because you can’t do any of the things you want to do. You fall asleep one two many nights dreaming about his lips and how nice it’d be to feel them again - on your lips, on your neck, everywhere. You want to feel him everywhere, and this longing lust is starting to drive you crazy. You’d never wanted anyone this much.

He invites you over for dinner one night, and the look he gives you when he opens the door sends a shiver right down your spine. “Hi, Y/N.” 

“Hi, Sunghoon.”

He leads you into the kitchen with a hand on your waist, even though you’ve been in his house many times before and need no assistance getting there. A small, horny voice at the back of your head tells you that tonight may be the night, but you quickly shut it down, not wanting to get your hopes up all on your own.

Sunghoon serves you a glass of red wine, and you ask him what the occasion is. “Just to celebrate the house being almost done,” he answers with a smile.

Dinner would have gone as usual if Sunghoon wasn’t practically staring you down the whole time, eyes full of something you can’t quite put your finger on and that drives you crazy. His gaze lingers on you every time you speak, and he punctuates the syllables of your name like he’s trying to get a feel for them on his tongue.

Your heart is pounding in your chest when the clock strikes nine p.m. and it’s time for Chaeryeong to go to bed - you don’t know if you’ll be able to handle being alone with Sunghoon, and you might have to make a run for it, Cinderella-style. 

Chaer goes to the bathroom to wash up and change into her pajamas, and when she comes back, she asks - no, demands - that you’re the one who tucks her in, and who are you to say no to the cutest little girl on Earth? She holds you by the pinky as she drags you up the stairs to her room then buries herself in her covers, tapping on the bed next to her body for you to sit there. “Okay, now we can talk without Dad around,” she says all business-like.

She tells you about the boys at her school and the birthday party she went to last week and the latest drama with her friends. The both of you are too busy chatting and giggling to hear footsteps coming up the stairs and stopping at her door, hiding behind the wall. After ten minutes, she yawns loudly and says, “Can you call Dad? I think he’ll be sad if he doesn’t wish me good night.”

“Of course,” you reply and kiss her on the forehead, wishing her a good night yourself. You’re only half-surprised to find Sunghoon at the doorway, waiting for his cue.

“Wait up for me, yeah? I’ll just be a minute,” he says, that smile still on his lips, that smile that keeps you hoping.

“Okay,” you whisper, and head downstairs, nervously taking a sip from your wine glass as you wait for him on the living room couch.

He is indeed back in a very short time, too short a time for your nerves to settle, so when he sits down close to you on the couch, body turned towards yours, you can feel your heart in your throat. He traces the rim of his glass with the tip of his pointer finger and you both watch the slow movement for a bit, a heavy silence hanging over both of your heads. You wait for him to talk because you’re too scared of what you might say if you start the conversation.

“Y/N, I’ve been thinking,” he starts shakily, “about um, our kiss, the other day-”

“Oh, we don’t need to talk about that,” you quickly interrupt, waving your hand in dismissal at him. “You made it clear you didn’t like it-”

“No, that’s the thing-”

“And that you thought it was a bad idea-”

“No, just listen-”

“So let’s just forget about it, and-”

“Y/N,” Sunghoon says in a stern voice, raising his tone just enough to make you stop in your rambling.

“Yeah?” you look up at him, eyes wide open. Expecting, as always.

“I haven’t once stopped thinking about that kiss,” he says, sounding out-of-breath. “I handled it awfully, and I’m so sorry that I made you feel like I didn’t like it, because, God, I liked it. A lot,” he chuckles. “Maybe even too much.”

There they are, the words you’ve been dying to hear. Yet all you can say is a stupid “Oh.”

“I just… I was tipsy, and Chaeryeong was coming the next morning, and I panicked. I didn’t know what to do for the rest of the week, and you didn’t say anything, so I didn’t, either. But I can’t pretend like it isn’t there.”

“Like what isn’t there?” you echo, voice almost low as a whisper.

“You know… this,” he replies, voice as low as yours. Slowly, one of his hands comes up to trace your jawline. You release a shaky breath as you set your wine glass on the coffee table and rest your hand on his knee.

“Are you sure about this? ‘Cause if you tell me that you want me… then I’ll be all yours, Sunghoon,” you murmur, hands slowly sliding up his thigh. He takes you by the wrist and puts your hand right on top of his already growing erection, letting you know exactly how he feels about you.

“God, can’t you see what you do to me? I want you so bad, Y/N,” he almost growls, and with that, his lips are on yours, trapping you into a kiss far hungrier and more ferocious than the previous kiss, your mutual intentions finally laid out in front of you for you both to see.

Sunghoon wastes no time as he grabs you by the waist and brings you to his lap, sitting you on top of his crotch so that you can feel his hardening cock against your core. The kiss turns desperate in mere seconds, and you’re relieved to see that Sunghoon seems to have been waiting for this as long and with as much ardor as you have. Your hands are fisting his hair, tugging almost harshly, while his hands roam the expanse of your back until they settle on your ass, grabbing at it to press you closer to him. You can’t stop yourself from moaning into his mouth when his erection rubs over your core in just the right way, and he takes that opportunity to add tongue to the kiss, deepening it.

You start to grind yourself against him, which he helps you do by slightly rutting his hips into yours and bringing your ass closer at every movement. Quickly, you fall into a rhythm so perfect and that feels so good, you think you might explode right then and there. Forget riding his thigh, this is infinitely better.

Needing to catch your breath, you pull away from the kiss, but your lips find his jaw immediately and you start pressing wet, needy kisses there and down his neck, sucking in some spots so that light bruises appear. “Fuck, Y/N, that feels so nice,” he breathes, eyes shut closed. His scent drives you crazy, and his small praise makes you double down on your actions, almost biting the soft skin of his neck.

As you continue kissing him there, occasionally returning to his lips for more, his hands roam your thighs and then up your back, snaking themselves under your t-shirt and finding the clasp of your bra, quickly doing away with it. He pulls away just so he can help you out of your top and takes your bra off of you, hands caressing your sides as he admires your half-naked body in all its glory. You take his hands and bring them to your chest, resting your hands on top of his as you continue grinding onto him and let him play with your boobs. “You’re so fucking hot,” he practically moans, making you chuckle. You reach for the hem of his t-shirt, because it’s only fair that you get to see him too, and you bite back a moan when he uses the absence of your hands on his to pinch your nipples lightly, then takes one in his mouth, catching you off-guard. You forget all about your plan of undressing him as his tongue flicks at the perked bud, your hands finding his hair again as you moan unabashedly. 

“S-Sunghoon,” you breathe, the combined feelings of his now fully hard cock pressing against your clothed but soaking cunt and of his warm mouth around your nipples really getting to your head and making you see stars, so that all you can say is his name. “Please,” you beg, you’re not sure what for. Mercy, perhaps. Or release.

“Please what, baby?” he asks, and the nickname goes straight to your core.

“I don’t- just, please, Sunghoon, please,” you say incoherently, making him chuckle.

“Okay,” he says as if he can read your mind, and you think he actually does when he lays you down on the couch, fingers finding the zipper of your shorts. He unbuttons them and slides them down your legs along with your soaked panties. He makes sure they’re fully off of your body before running his palms up both of your legs, from your ankles to your hips.

“Don’t tease, please,” you plead, too desperate for him to take his time.

“As you wish, princess,” he smirks, and brings a finger to your folds, sliding it down to gather some slick before pushing it inside your hole. Your back arches as an instant response to his touch and you let out a small whine, already craving for more. “Fuck, so wet, and all for me, yeah?” he questions, his eyes not once leaving your glistening pussy.

“Yes,” you breathe out, mind too fuzzy to produce a longer sentence.

“That’s a good girl,” he coos, and adds another finger, pushing all three of his knuckles in and massaging your sweet spot as soon as he finds it. When he’s found a rhythm for his motions, he finally looks up at you and curses himself for not having watched your face earlier. Head tilted back in pleasure, mouth agape as your breathing gets more and more irregular and eyebrows scrunched together, you look like the definition of sex, and it takes everything in Sunghoon to not start touching himself.

He forces himself to look away from you only to focus back on your pussy and notices your swollen clit that is begging for attention. He licks it tentatively, and when your back arches at the feeling of his tongue on you, he dives in completely, licking a stripe up your folds before wrapping his lips around the bud and sucking at it like he did with your nipples earlier. The pace at which his fingers are pumping out of you quickens and you’re pulling so hard at his hair, you think you might rip some strands off. You feel yourself getting close, and you’re reminded of all those frustrating encounters with college boys where they stopped right before you came, so you can’t stop yourself as you desperately chant “oh my God please don’t stop please don’t stop,” not even noticing the way you’re holding his head down against your clit and bucking your hips into his face.

Your orgasm hits you like a truck - this is probably the first one you’ve received from someone other than your own hand or your vibrator in the past year and a half. It takes your breath away, and you’re left gasping for air for a good thirty seconds, your mind reeling from the intensity of such pleasure. When you calm down, you lift your head to look at Sunghoon who’s already watching you with a grin on his face, your slick coating his chin and mouth.

You plop your head back down with a groan when realization hits you. “I’m sor-”

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” Sunghoon commands, hands rubbing your still-trembling thighs. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” he marvels, and you can’t help but giggle.

“Really?”

“Really.”

After another couple of seconds, you sit up on the couch and send Sunghoon a mischievous look. My turn, you think, and if his smile is any indicator then he seems to have understood. “Let me thank you,” you say, gesturing at him to sit up himself as you lower yourself to your knees on the couch in front of him.

You look up at him from between his thighs then unclasp his belt and undo his jeans. He lets out a shaky breath and says, “You don’t need to do this, you know-”

“Don’t be a gentleman, Sunghoon. I want to do this and I know you want it too. It’s pretty obvious,” you tease as you run your hand over his erection, watching in delight as his eyebrows furrow and his eyes close. “Now help me get these off of you.” He nods and raises his hips so you can take his jeans and underwear off, imitating his actions from before as you take your time to get them over his ankles and caressing his legs until they reach his crotch, watching as he takes his t-shirt off as well so that you can finally see him entirely. You’d caught glimpse of him shirtless before as he worked in his garden, but the sight still manages to take your breath away. Taut muscles and sun-tanned skin, laid bare right before you. This is what they mean by sculpted like a Greek god, you think.

You haven’t done anything, yet his head is already laid back against the top of the couch, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he gulps in expectation and chest rising visibly at every intake of breath. You must’ve saved a thousand souls in your previous life to be deserving of such an image.

You spit in your palm before taking him, starting out by slowly moving your hand up and down his shaft, then rubbing small circles against his tip, the small moan-like sighs that leave his lips letting you know you’re doing a good job. You gather some saliva in your mouth and spit on his length to add some lubricant and smirk when he lets out a low fuck. You bring your head closer and lick his balls, taking one at a time in your mouth and sucking very gently, making the volume of his moans increase. “Just like- fuck, just like that, Y/N.”

You then lick a long stripe up his cock and swirl your tongue around his tip when you reach it, humming at the taste of precum there. Sunghoon gathers your hair in a makeshift ponytail so it doesn’t get in your way, and finally looks down at you, blown away by the beautiful sight of your flushed cheeks and your mouth around his cock. He groans when you take him deeper and unconsciously bucks his hips into your throat, making you gag around him. He loves that feeling but doesn’t want to hurt you so he grabs your face and makes you look up at him, lust and worry written all over his face as he apologizes, but you quickly stop him. “It’s okay, I like it. You can do it again,” you say, and smile before wrapping your lips around him once more.

“Fuck, are you sure?” he asks and you hum, sending vibrations all over his body.

“God, o-okay,” he says, in disbelief that you’re okay with him practically fucking your throat and even liking it. And you do like it - you love letting him use your mouth to get off, just like you had earlier with him. He must have amazing core strength because he’s able to buck his hips into your mouth rapidly as he holds your head tight in his hands. The way you keep coming back for more every time he lets you breathe is enough to drive him crazy, but after a couple minutes, he stops you from taking him in your mouth again.

“I can’t- I don’t wanna cum like this,” he breathes, looking just as fucked-out as you do.

“Where, then?” you ask, kissing him all over his thighs as he trails his fingers through your hair. “Inside?”

He groans at the offer but shakes his head, eyes shut as if trying to calm himself down. “I haven’t got any condoms.”

“I’m on the pill,” you tell him, still pressing kisses on his warm skin. You’re far too desperate to feel him inside you to let a lack of condom stop you, especially when you don’t even need one.

He lets out an umpteenth shaky breath and makes you look up at him. “Are you sure?”

“Sunghoon,” you say, looking him dead in the eyes, “I’ve never been more sure of anything.” You’re relieved when he smiles and nods, bending down to trap your lips in a heated kiss for good measure. Something about being in this position, kneeling in front of his spread thighs and having to look up at him, turns you on even more.

“Okay, then,” he says, still smiling as he pulls away, holding you gently by the chin. “I don’t think I’ll be able to last long, and I want to feel you cum around me. So, tell me, what’s your favorite position, princess?”

The question takes you aback but you answer it anyway, looking at the ground. “Reverse cowgirl…” you admit shyly, a small smile spreading on your lips.

“Reverse cowgirl, huh?” Sunghoon repeats, and you don’t need to look at him to know he’s smirking. “Come here, then,” he says, and helps you up, making you turn around so your back faces him and seats you down on top of him, keeping your hips raised. He takes his cock inside his hands, pumps it a few more times before guiding it to your entrance, pressing kisses to your shoulders and nape to make you relax. 

You moan at the simple feeling of his tip teasing your entrance and Sunghoon whispers “I know, baby” against your skin. “Sit down for me,” he commands gently, and you oblige, lowering your hips slowly to feel all of him stretching you out, the both of you moaning in synchronization when he bottoms out.

Sunghoon wraps an arm around your middle and pulls you onto him so that your back rests against his chest and you can let your head hang back next to his. “Let me do all the work, yeah?” he murmurs into your ear, and you hum in response. He doesn’t move for a bit, roaming his large hands all over your body until he feels your walls relax around him. One of his hands finds your breasts, playing with each nipple in turn, while the other finds your clit. It’s all so much but so good that you’re already a moaning mess before he’s even started moving. “Ready?” he asks, but you’re too far gone to answer.

His pace starts out slow, but you’re impatient and whine as you try to move your hips against his to go faster, which makes him tut. “I told you I’d do the work, didn’t I?” he asks, pinching one of your nipples in reprimand. “So be good for me and stay still, Y/N. I promise I’ll make you feel good.” You whine again but stop moving, heeding his words.

“Perfect,” he whispers and kisses your neck before picking up the pace, shushing you when your moans get too loud.

“I’m sorry, just feels too good,” you manage to let out.

“I know, but you need to stay quiet, baby,” he says, yet gets rougher with his thrusts, which does not help in the slightest. His hand that was on your breasts comes up to cover your mouth, but he quickly decides to make you suck on two of his fingers instead, muffling your moans a bit.

His fingers on your clit haven’t relented this whole time and after just a few minutes, you feel that familiar knot tying itself again in your stomach and you know you’re mere moments away from it coming undone. Judging by his rapid but clumsy thrusts, Sunghoon must be close too. He pounds into you like you’ve been wanting him to ever since you first set eyes on him as he entered the hardware store, hitting your g-spot over and over again. Tears roll down your cheeks and you whimper around his fingers, biting down on them as your second orgasm hits you.

You’re practically sobbing as he helps you ride out your high, his movements sending your body into pleasant overstimulation until he reaches his high too, the feeling of your pussy clenching tightly around him pushing him over the edge. Ropes of his semen paint your walls white, and there’s enough of it for him to become a father of two. You whine as he pulls away, and feel his cum slipping out of you and onto the couch underneath you. Before you can catch your breath, he asks, “Baby, can I do something very dirty?” and you nod without thinking much. This man could do anything he wanted to you, and you’d thank him for it.

He settles you back down onto the couch, kneels on the floor, head level with your core, and sticks his tongue inside your hole, making you yelp in surprise and overstimulation. You don’t understand what he’s doing until he comes back up and makes you open your mouth with his thumb, then spits inside it, telling you to swallow. You do as he says and taste his cum, laughing in disbelief at what he just did - and at how much you liked it. “Fuck,” you giggle.

“Was that too much?” 

“God, no,” you say, and he smiles. You open your arms, gesturing for him to get back on the couch. He rests his head between your breasts, the both of you sighing in contentment as he rubs small circles on your belly and you graze your fingers through his hair. He’s so silent that you think he’s fallen asleep, but he speaks up after a while, voice soft and calm like you’ve never heard before.

“We should go get cleaned up…” he says, and you hum in agreement, “...but it’s so nice here,” he finishes, making you giggle.

“If we get cleaned up quickly now, we can cuddle in bed right afterwards,” you argue.

“You’re right. Infallible logic. You’re so smart, you know that, Y/N?” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Of course I know that,” you joke. “Let’s go,” you say, kissing the top of his head.

You take a shower together, cleaning each other and leaving kisses here and there, or touching in places you shouldn’t touch and that maybe lead to more, right there in the shower. Now that you’ve had a taste, you’re insatiable, and you warn Sunghoon that the both of you are in for a very long night, to which he answers that he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Once you do fall asleep, (which isn’t until two rounds later, and you’re surprised either of you have this much energy), however, you’re holding each other tightly, the fan on high so that you don’t feel all sticky, being so close to each other. Even if you wake up here and there because he shuffled or he snored too loudly, it’s one of the best sleeps you’ve ever had.

—

You wake up the next morning by small giggles and snorts that come from none other than Park Chaeryeong herself, who’s buried herself between you and her dad, shaking her body to wake the two of you. You’re glad that you listened to Sunghoon when he told you to put on a t-shirt of his as well as some underwear so neither you or Chaer would have a fright when she came and woke you up as she liked to do every morning. “You had a sleepover!” she exclaims excitedly when she sees you’ve finally opened your eyes, looking at her with a sleepy expression and a smile.

“We did!” you reply, trying to keep the same level of excitement.

“We did,” Sunghoon repeats, taking his daughter in her arms to hug her tightly and blows a raspberry in her neck to make her laugh.

“You didn’t invite me!” she shrieks when her dad’s left her alone.

“Sorry, sweetheart. It was just me and Y/N.”

“No fun,” she pouts, laying on her back and crossing over arms before turning back to her dad. “So, is Y/N my new mom?” she whispers even though you’re right there. You gasp at her question, making wide eyes at Sunghoon who just snorts, and you can’t tell if she’s genuinely asking or if she’s an eight-year-old with an advanced sense of irony.

“Of course not. Is Heeseung your new dad?” he asks, mentioning his ex’s new boyfriend. Chaer shakes her head.

“No. He’s Mommy’s boyfriend.”

“Exactly, and Y/N is Daddy’s girlfriend. Isn’t she?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you, smirking.

“She is,” you reply, and Chaer turns back to you, giggling. She snuggles close to you, wrapping an arm around your middle, and you’re taken aback by the sheer cuteness of it all. You look at Sunghoon with a fake pained expression, and he smiles endearingly at the two of you before sighing and joining you in your hug. He rests his arms around you and his daughter, kissing the top of your heads in turn. 

“My girls,” he mutters in your hair, and you smile peacefully.

There’s a lot of things you have to talk about with Sunghoon. You know your parents - especially your mom - will be okay with the two of you together, but will his parents be? And once semester starts again, what will happen? You’ll have to go back to campus and he’ll have to stay here - will a three-hour drive be a dealbreaker, or will you make it work?

The thing is, there’s no point in thinking about all of this at this moment. You’ve got the whole summer to figure things out. For now, you’ll eat cherries and spit out the pits, and everything will be perfect.

this is a one shot, there will not be a part two!

permanent taglist: @k-ingzo @bbujiikseu @sunghoonmybeloved @lalalalawon @sd211 @w3bqrl @raikea10 @wntrnghts (ask to be removed/added!)

© asahicore on tumblr, 2023. please do not repost, translate or plagiarize my works. feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

[parkitrighthere]

ASHES OF A PROMISE

• TITLE: ASHES OF A PROMISE

• PAIRING: Lycan king!Jungkook x Werewolf!Reader

•WORD COUNT: 15.3k

• GENRE: Paranormal Romance, Dark Fantasy, Smut, Slow burn, Fluff (?), Tragic Romance, werewolf au, Royal au

• TRIGGER WARNING: The following content contains themes of emotional distress, manipulation, rejection, and verbal abuse, including emotionally charged arguments and hurtful dialogue that could be distressing. There are references to violence, power dynamics, and trauma. Additionally, there are moments of self-doubt, intense emotional breakdowns, and interactions involving possessive and hostile behaviors. Please proceed with caution if these topics are sensitive or triggering for you.

• SUMMARY: You were a hopeless romantic, dreaming of a mate who would love you as fiercely as you loved him. But when you finally meet your mate, you discover he’s no ordinary wolf — he’s the Lycan king, the alpha of all alphas. Worse, he neither wants you nor is willing to reject you, leaving you trapped in a loveless bond in his kingdom. As queen to a king who resents you, the mate bond grows stronger, making you more vulnerable with each passing day. Now, you must break through the walls around his heart and make him love you, because staying in this bond without love is unbearable, yet leaving isn’t an option he’ll allow.

• a/n: This story is entirely a work of fiction and is the sole property of @parkitrighthere. The characters, events, and scenarios depicted are products of the imagination and are not intended to represent or reflect real-life situations, nor do I wish for anything portrayed here to occur in reality. I kindly ask that my work not be copied, translated, or reposted as your own on this or any other platform, including YouTube. Please respect the effort and originality behind this piece. Thank you for your understanding and support.

•a/n: Hey, everyone! How’s it going? I hope you’re all having a blast! So, here we are—Chapter 1 is finally up, and let me just say, it’s a masterpiece of disappointment! Honestly, I think I might hate it even more than the prologue, which is saying something because that was basically my attempt at literary self-sabotage. I’m pretty sure you’ll read this and wonder if I’ve lost my mind—or my talent, if I ever had any. But hey, if you end up hating it, I totally understand; I’ll just be over here, crying in a corner and contemplating my life choices. So, enjoy this train wreck of a chapter… or don’t, because either way, I’ll be doing the same!

PROLOGUE MASTERLIST 02

CHAPTER 1: THE MATE'S LAMENT

You pressed a trembling hand against your chest, the ache inside sharper than any wound. What did this mean? What had you done to deserve this crushing weight?

The thought pierced through you like a knife, and a ragged sob tore from your throat, scraping the walls raw as it escaped. Your whole body shook with the force of it. How could someone so beautiful be so cruel? How?

Maybe you didn’t deserve any of it. Any of the love.

Your spiral was interrupted by the soft creak of the door. Startled, you lifted your tear-blurred eyes just as a small figure stepped inside. Her footsteps faltered as soon as she saw you, eyes wide and doe-like, her breath catching in her chest. One hand gripped the doorknob, knuckles white, while the other clenched into a tight fist at her side. She hesitated, before she finally let go of the door, letting it close with a soft click.

"Luna," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

She took a step toward you, then another, her deamnour unsure, almost hesitant, as if the space between you and her was filled with something fragile, something that might shatter if she came too close. Her small frame seemed to shrink even more as she neared, her shoulders hunched as if the weight of the moment was too much to bear. In three careful steps, she stood in front of you, shifting her weight from one foot to the other like she wanted to leave but couldn’t. Her fingers nervously twisted the fabric of her sleeves, her gaze flickering to your tear-streaked face, then away, unable to hold it for too long.

"Hi," she started again, her voice hesitant, as if unsure of what to say, what to hold back. You could see the confusion in her eyes, flickering across her face as she tried to make sense of her own presence here. She didn’t look like a maid or servant, nothing about her carried that air. Her gaze flitted around the room, nervously taking in everything but you—never you, not for longer than a fleeting second.

"His Majesty mentioned you were injured... and insisted someone should tend to you immediately?" Her words came out like a question, not a statement. Her eyes finally, really, landed on you, sweeping over your body as if searching for visible wounds. But you said nothing, offering her no comfort or explanation. You could see her stiffen, her shoulders drawing up, tension coiling through her body. Her fingers twitched at her sides, clenching and unclenching. Was it anxiety? Or was she angry? You couldn’t tell. Angry at you? Angry at the situation?

She stood there, rigid and uncomfortable, like she was trying to hold back a storm raging inside her.

"You don’t... you don’t look physically hurt," she said at last, her voice faltering despite the firmness she was trying to inject into it. Her tone was small, unsure, like she was afraid of overstepping.

"I’m not," you replied, finally breaking the silence. She let out a soft, breathy exhale, her lips parting slightly in relief. For a moment, the tension seemed to leave her body, but only briefly. Her hands still shook as she moved closer, taking a seat beside you on the bed. She tried to appear composed, confident even, but her worried eyes betrayed her. They darted over your face, as if searching for something she didn’t quite understand.

Her posture was straighter now, but her fingers were knotted together in her lap, betraying her own emotions, she was feeling. She was doing her best to stay in control, but the way her hands trembled gave her away.

You didn’t understand what had her so on edge, not fully. Maybe deep down, you knew, but you didn’t want to acknowledge it. You could feel it—the pull. You were her Luna, and her wolf was bound to you, connected in a way she couldn’t resist. She was loyal to the core, and now that you were hurting, her wolf could feel it all. It was written in the way her breath hitched, in the tightening of her jaw, in the way her hands trembled despite her outward composure.

Even if you didn’t know her exact role within the pack, you could tell she was someone important. The weight of the connection was pressing down on her, forcing her to share the burden of emotions that weren’t her own. She had no choice in the matter—her wolf was loyal, whether she wanted it or not. And here she was, sitting beside you, a silent, anxious witness to the pain you carried inside.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly, her left hand landing on your shoulder with a slow, soothing touch. But the question felt hollow to you—meaningless. Even she knew the answer. It was as if she didn’t want to hear the truth, didn’t want to face it. She wanted the lie. She wanted you to say you were fine, that everything was manageable. But you couldn’t.

“No,” the word slipped from your lips in a breathy whisper, unplanned, unwelcome. It was already out before you could pull it back, and the floodgates opened. “I’m not.” You shook your head slightly, your voice cracking as you turned to her, eyes wide and raw. “Nothing’s okay. Nothing!” The confession ripped out of you, trembling and desperate, like a wound finally exposed.

She didn’t hesitate. She pulled you into her arms, wrapping them tightly around you, holding you like she could shield you from everything that had broken you. Her embrace was warm, her hands gentle as they pressed against your back, but it still didn’t reach the cold emptiness inside. You were like a traveler lost in a winter storm, seeking shelter but finding nothing, standing on an endless, frozen street with nowhere to go. The comfort she offered felt distant, as if you were too far gone to feel it.

"It will be okay," she murmured into your hair, but you knew better. You weren’t naïve. You had seen the truth—felt it. How could it ever be okay when the weight of everything had already crushed you? There was no hope, only more pain ahead. You could feel it in your bones, in the ache that refused to let go.

“I am sure of it,” she continued, pulling back slightly to look at you, her hands gently wiping the tears from your face. Her touch was tender, but her words stung. “You’re his mate, Luna. He’ll come around. You just have to hold on. Don’t cry, please. My wolf… she’s going crazy.”

Her voice broke, and you realized it wasn’t just her trying to comfort you—it was her wolf, the pull of the bond making her feel everything you were going through. Her desperation was palpable. At least she was here, trying, when the one person who should have been with you had left you to cry alone.

You nodded, your head bobbing violently, avoiding her eyes. You didn’t have the strength to argue, not now. You wiped your tears with the back of your hand, the sleeve of your white dress smudging black as your mascara mixed with the salty wetness. But the tears wouldn’t stop. They just kept coming, rolling down your cheeks as if they had a life of their own, and you were powerless to hold them back.

“Come, let’s go.” She stood up, brushing her hands nervously over the front of her gown, before turning to look back at you. Her soft, innocent eyes locked onto your face, but you didn’t move. You just stared up at her, perplexed and still too disoriented to understand.

“What happened, Luna?” Her voice was gentle, almost coaxing.

“Go where?” you asked, blinking slowly, trying to make sense of the situation.

“Oh… to your room,” she said, her voice wavering with uncertainty. Her fingers twisted around the edge of her sleeve as she spoke. “His Majesty told me to prepare it for you.” She hesitated, watching for your reaction, her gaze flickering from your face to the floor, as if unsure whether she should continue. “He chose it himself,” she added, more hesitant now, her words hanging awkwardly in the air.

The statement only deepened your confusion, and your brow furrowed. You had known he wouldn’t let you stay with him in his room—that much had been clear. But why did he bring you here in the first place? What was the point of it all?

“Then why did he bring me here?” The question slipped out before you could stop it, your voice sharper than you intended. It was absurd, the way he had toyed with your heart, made you feel vulnerable, only to discard you like you were nothing. What was he thinking?

The girl fidgeted, her hands wringing together nervously. “I fear only His Majesty holds the answer to that, my Luna,” she whispered, casting her gaze down, avoiding your eyes, as if she could feel the weight of your frustration, your confusion.

“But why not here?” you asked, your voice soft but insistent, as your instincts clawed to keep you rooted in this room. His scent still lingered, that familiar mix of ocean water and coconut, wrapping around you like a lifeline. It was strange, undeniably so, but to you, it felt like home. Your body refused to let go of what little remained of him here, as if holding onto it might somehow ease the ache in your chest.

The girl shifted on her feet, her eyes wide as she struggled to find the right words. “Luna, this is the royal chamber,” she began, her hands fidgeting nervously at her sides.

You frowned, glancing around the room. “Isn’t the whole palace royal?” you asked, your voice laced with confusion. You finally rose to your feet, taking in the grand space around you. It was beautiful—majestic, even. Despite everything, you couldn’t help but admire it. A part of you loved this room, wanted to stay here just a little longer.

“That’s true,” she admitted, her voice hesitant. “But…” She trailed off, biting her lip as if weighing whether she should continue. You looked at her, curiosity sparking in your eyes, though the confusion still lingered. “This chamber… it’s reserved for the king and queen. They stay here after the mating ceremony with the pack. It’s tradition.”

She was speaking quickly now, as if nervous about how much she was revealing. Her feet shuffled anxiously beneath her, her gaze darting from you to the door. “What tradition?” you asked, stepping toward her, your voice edged with frustration.

She hesitated, wringing her hands before finally speaking again. “The first time the king brings his mate here, it’s only to…” She paused, glancing up at you, clearly uneasy. “To mate. If they don’t, they must wait for two full moons before… before they can try again.”

“Huh?” The word fell from your lips, flat and disbelieving. It made no sense—if this room held such significance, why would he have brought you here only to leave you feeling like you didn’t matter? You stared at her, trying to piece together what was happening, but the more you thought about it, the less it made sense.

You exhaled sharply, running a hand through your hair as the weight of it all pressed down on you. Nothing about this felt right, and yet here you were, standing in the middle of a hall staring at a room that wasn’t meant for you—not yet, at least.

“Luna, please walk ahead,” she urged softly, a hint of panic creeping into her voice. “If His Majesty finds out you were walking behind me, he will have my head. And… well, my mate being the royal general probably won’t help much in this case.”

You blinked in realization, your mind connecting the dots. Her mate… Neil. The royal general. You remembered their story well—how it had caused an uproar just a few months ago. She was an omega, and he was a powerful, high-ranking general. It was unheard of, taboo even, for someone of his rank to mate with someone so low in status. But Neil had fought for her, tooth and nail, defying tradition for the love of his mate.

Back then, when you heard about their story, it had filled you with hope. You had dreamed of a love like that—someone who would fight for you, who would stand by your side no matter what. But now, you weren’t so sure. You had the king himself as your mate, but did you really have him? You had everything… and yet, nothing.

As you nodded at her request, you moved forward through the empty halls, your feet heavy with each step. The silence between you both felt oppressive, weighed down by unspoken questions. One question above all lingered in your mind, echoing with every step: Why did he bring me here?

Everything had seemed fine at first. But as soon as you reached the royal chamber, something had shifted in Jungkook. His whole demeanor changed—cold, distant, like he didn’t want you at all.

Your thoughts churned as you walked, your hands brushing against the fabric of your dress, your fingers absently tracing the delicate embroidery. You remembered the way his jaw had tightened, how his eyes darkened with something you couldn’t quite place—anger? Fear? Disgust?

“Luna, here we are,” Patricia announced softly, her voice warm and welcoming as she opened the door to your room. It wasn’t as grand as the royal chamber, but it had a certain charm. The crimson walls immediately caught your attention, the color soothing and familiar—it was a shade you loved.

Patricia stood by the doorway, a hopeful glint in her eyes. “Do you like it, Luna?” she asked, her voice bright, almost chirping with excitement. She clasped her hands in front of her, shifting slightly from foot to foot, clearly eager for your approval.

A small, genuine smile tugged at the corner of your lips as you glanced around the room. “Yes,” you replied, your gaze settling on a vase in the corner. Its intricate design and deep red flowers seemed to echo the mood of the room. “It’s lovely.” You turned back to her, your smile softening, but something felt off. “Thank you…” You trailed off, realizing you didn’t know her name, despite spending so much time with her.

She giggled, the sound light and carefree, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You can call me Patricia,” she said, her tone almost teasing.

“Patricia…” you repeated softly. She smiled wider, pleased with your response.

“Well, Luna,” she said, stepping back toward the door, “I’ll leave you now. You should rest.” Her eyes lingered on you for a moment longer, as if she wanted to say more but thought better of it. She turned to leave, but you couldn’t help yourself.

“Are you heading back to the gathering?” you asked, your voice catching just slightly as you remembered the night’s events.

Patricia paused, glancing over her shoulder. “No, it’s over.”

“Over?” you frowned. “But wasn’t it important?”

She shrugged, her tone light, dismissive. “Not really.”

Her casual response left you with more questions than answers, but before you could say anything else, Patricia moved toward the door, and the only sound that escaped your lips was a quiet, “Oh.”

Patricia’s voice broke through your thoughts, snapping you back to the moment. “Please excuse me, Luna. My mate must be waiting for me,” she said gently, her voice tinged with warmth as she spoke of her mate.

You nodded, not trusting your voice, and watched her leave, the soft click of the door sealing you in the quiet room. Alone.

You slowly made your way to the bed, your body heavy with exhaustion. Just as you were about to lie down, you paused, realizing you didn’t have anything comfortable to wear for the night. The realization hit you like a dull thud in your chest—Patricia had taken care of everything, yet this one detail, your clothes, had been forgotten.

You let out a long, tired breath, shoulders slumping as you gave in. "What could I have done, anyway?" you muttered to yourself. There wasn’t much choice left now. You flopped onto the bed, the mattress soft beneath your weight, cradling your tired body.

The room was bathed in a soft silver glow, the moonlight filtering through the open window. Its light danced gently on the floor, casting a peaceful glow over the room as you reached over to turn off the switch. The curtains fluttered, brushing softly against the windowsill, swaying with the rhythm of the cold night breeze. Each gust sent a shiver through the room, a subtle reminder of the world outside, yet it felt so far from where you lay.

You stared out of the window, eyes tracing the outline of the moon hanging bright in the dark sky. It was beautiful, breathtaking even, but your mind was elsewhere. Too much had happened in the past few hours, too many changes for you to grasp. Your life had flipped upside down in the blink of an eye, and you still didn’t know if it was for better or worse.

Your chest tightened with the weight of everything—the uncertainty, the confusion, the aching loneliness that sat heavy inside you like a stone. The whirlwind of thoughts swirled in your mind, twisting and turning, never settling long enough for you to catch your breath.

You didn’t even realize when your eyelids began to droop, when the tiredness finally pulled you under. Your last thought, tangled and blurry, was of him—of the cold distance between you, of the things left unsaid. And then, sleep claimed you, taking you away from the chaos, if only for a little while.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

“Luna,” a soft, melodic voice broke through the fog of your deep sleep, coaxing you gently. You stirred, rolling to your side, trying to escape the harsh sunlight now streaming through the windows and landing directly on your face.

“Luna, wake up,” the voice came again, more insistent. You groaned, forcing your eyes open, blinking against the light. Patricia was standing beside your bed, crouched slightly, shielding you from the sun with her body. Her lips curved into a smile when she saw you stirring, and she backed away as you groggily sat up, rubbing your eyes.

The groan in your throat grew louder as you tried to shake off the heavy weight of sleep, your body protesting. "What time is it?" you muttered, rubbing at your face, a wide yawn slipping out before you could stop it.

“Seven,” Patricia replied, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion as a giggle escaped her. She didn’t seem to understand why you were asking.

“Seven?” you repeated, eyes widening. “It’s so early!” you whined, dragging out the words as you slumped back against the headboard.

Patricia’s eyes went wide in shock, her mouth hanging open as if you had said something utterly ridiculous. “What?” she nearly yelled, making you flinch. Realizing she’d startled you, she quickly apologized. “You must be teasing me,” she said, her voice softer now, though still filled with disbelief.

You raised an eyebrow, genuinely confused. “Why would I do that? Why are you so shocked?” you asked, slowly crawling out of bed, stretching your stiff limbs as you yawned again.

“Luna, it’s past seven, actually,” Patricia said, her tone matter-of-fact as she crossed her arms. “Everyone here wakes up at four!”

Your mouth fell open, and you froze mid-stretch. “Four?” you repeated, staring at her as if she had just said something in another language. "You're joking, right?"

She shook her head, her eyes wide with sincerity, clearly baffled by your reaction. You stood there, at a loss for words, trying to process the absurdity of it all. Four in the morning? That was barely even night!

“Why?” was all you could manage to ask, your mind racing with disbelief. You wanted to scream, “What the hell do you guys do at four in the morning?”

“It’s just how it is here,” Patricia replied, her voice calm now, though her eyes were still fixed on you with a hint of curiosity, as if trying to understand your reaction. “Just bath and get ready. His Majesty wants to meet you.”

“Me?” You pointed incredulously at yourself, your index finger hovering in the air as disbelief washed over you. Why would he want to see you, especially after everything that had happened last night? A cold sensation crept through your bones, traveling up your spine. You took a shaky breath as your wolf stirred at the back of your mind, sensing the mere thought of your mate. She hadn’t spoken to you since last night, and you had been too wrapped up in grief to even consider reaching out.

“Yes. I also brought you some clothes.” Patricia gestured to the edge of the bed, where a beautiful red satin dress lay. You nodded silently, trying to calm the swirl of emotions in your chest. As you took two hesitant steps toward the bathroom, you froze, suddenly unsure.

Patricia seemed to read your thoughts. She pointed to a door on the left side of the room, and you nodded gratefully, giving her a small smile before darting inside.

The bathroom was nothing short of breathtaking, with marble tiles and a large shower that seemed to beckon you. You didn’t have time to admire it, though. You quickly turned on the shower, letting the water warm up as you glanced at your reflection. Your heart raced, knowing you needed to hurry.

As the water cascaded over you, you joked aloud, “If I bathe any faster, I might just become a fish!” You scrubbed yourself quickly, wishing you had more time to enjoy the luxury, but the thought of Jungkook waiting propelled you forward. “Okay, speed bathing, world record, here I come!” you teased, rinsing off and turning off the shower in a rush.

With a swift motion, you slipped into the red dress. It hugged your figure perfectly, accentuating curves you didn’t know you had, the fabric silky against your skin. You spun around, admiring your reflection for a brief moment before your thoughts turned back to the meeting. You took a deep breath and stepped out of the bathroom.

“Luna, we’re already late!” Patricia knocked impatiently on the door, her voice pulling you from your trance. The aroma of food wafted through the air, wrapping around you like a comforting blanket, but it felt too early for you to consider eating.

“Luna, here, have something before we leave,” she urged, holding out a plate as you emerged.

“I’m not really hungry,” you replied, shaking your head slightly, feeling your stomach churn in nervous anticipation. Patricia’s gaze narrowed slightly as she assessed you for a moment, then she took your hand gently, guiding you to sit on the edge of the bed.

"I suggest you eat. Believe me, you'll need it," she said, her tone firm, emphasizing the word need. Although hunger wasn't gnawing at your stomach, her earnestness made you feel the weight of her words. You quickly found yourself nibbling on whatever was piling up on your plate, each bite more rushed than the last, as if the food would somehow fortify you for what lay ahead.

After you gobbled down the last bite, you shot up from the bed, the urgency in her demeanor making your heart race. Patricia had gone from bouncing on her tippy toes to sitting next to you, fidgeting with her fingers in her lap, her nervous obvious. You felt her eyes on you, a silent request pushing you to eat faster without her saying a word.

“Let’s go,” you finally said, your voice steady despite the nerves bubbling in your stomach. She nodded vigorously, her eyes brightening as she stood and led the way out of the room.

“Where are we really going?” you asked, your curiosity piqued.

“To your his majesty's study room,” she stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. You could only blink in her as she sprinted down the hall. You followed her, feeling a bit like a lost child trying to keep up with an overly eager parent.

“Luna, please walk beside me, not behind me,” Patricia said, glancing over her shoulder, her voice tinged with silent frustration. You noted how her fingers twisted together, betraying her emotions.

You quickened your pace, taking two long strides to match her side, a faint smile tugging at your lips as you caught up. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to lag behind,” you said, trying to lighten the mood, though a small part of you understood her worry and frustration.

Soon, you found yourself standing in front of a closed door, a chill of apprehension creeping down your spine. Patricia halted, taking a deep breath that seemed to stretch in the air, oppressively. You watched her knuckles turn white as she knocked, each rap echoing through the silence.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

A gruff voice came from behind the door, “Come in.” As she pushed the door open, she gestured for you to enter first. You hesitated for a moment, your heart racing in your chest, then nodded and stepped inside.

As you crossed the threshold, the moment felt surreal. Your wolf stirred at the sound of his voice, an unsettling mix of yearning and pain washing over you, but the overwhelming grief she carried held her back. The room was dimly lit, casting shadows that danced around the edges, but your focus was solely on him. Jungkook sat behind a massive desk, his dark eyes locking onto yours the instant you entered. They seemed to deepen, filled with an intensity that made your stomach drop, and a cold, menacing smirk crept across his softly thin lips.

You felt your heartbeat quicken as you approached him, each step a battle against the swirl of emotions inside you. His brow arched as you stood before his desk, a silent provocation hanging between you. The weight of his gaze bore down on you, and you had to fight the urge to bare your neck to him.

From your left, you caught a glimpse of Patricia standing close to Neil, their heads bent together as they whispered something to each other. Neil gazed at her with an expression that made your heart ache—adoration shimmering in his eyes. Their fingers intertwined behind their backs, a quiet intimacy that made your chest tighten. You couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy, for the warmth of shared affection, and it tugged painfully at your heartstrings. You wanted that too.

With a determined look, you turned back to Jungkook, narrowing your eyes in defiance. He was still watching you, a predator relishing the hunt, and his smile widened at your glare. His lips stretched slightly before he caught himself, the playful facade melting into a serious demeanor. You noticed the way his jaw tightened, the flicker of something mingling with intrigue in his gaze.

"What urgent business made Your Majesty summon me here?" you shot back, your tone dripping with sarcasm. The taunt in your voice hung in the air like an electric charge, sparking a reaction in him. His expression shifted, a flash of irritation crossing his face as he absorbed your words, but he quickly masked it.

“I appreciate your time. There’s an important matter I wish to discuss with you—one that requires your attention.” His tone was unnervingly calm, as if your irritation were merely a nuisance to be brushed aside. It ignited your anger further.

“What matters?” you demanded, your voice edged with defiance as you crossed your arms, refusing to back down from his piercing gaze.

Jungkook leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin, his expression unreadable. “Now that you are here, and this will be your home, it is time to leave behind the ways of your old pack. There are rules you must follow, and you shall learn them in due course,” Jungkook stated, his voice steady, but the words hit you like a slap.

You straightened your spine, glaring at him. “And, may I ask what rules I need to follow?” The irritation in your voice was clear, though you fought to keep it even.

“First, you’re not allowed to leave the palace without my permission,” he replied, his tone calm and unwavering. The calmness only ignited the fire of rebellion inside you.

“What? You’re serious?” You narrowed your eyes, your hands curling into fists. “That’s absurd.”

“very,” he said, brushing off your defiance as if it were a passing breeze. “Second, you won’t form close relationships with the staff or low ranking pack members. And third, you're not to attend pack meetings.”

“You’re isolating me,” you accused, each word sharpened by the rising heat of your frustration. “Do you hear yourself? You can’t possibly expect me to follow this nonsense.”

“You’re also restricted from certain areas of the palace, especially the the king's quarters.”

“Is this just another way to keep me locked up like one of your pets?” you spat, sarcasm dripping from your words as you crossed your arms.

Jungkook’s eyes flashed with a brief flicker of irritation, but he masked it quickly. “You’ll present yourself formally at all events. And you’re not to mention our mating bond to anyone.”

Your laugh was bitter, mocking. “This is pathetic. Do you hear yourself? You want me to pretend to be your perfect little queen while you strip me of every ounce of dignity.”

His expression didn’t change, which only fueled your anger more. “You’ll follow a strict schedule, including etiquette lessons, and did I mention, no physical training.”

“No physical training? You can’t stop me from fighting.” You took another step forward, daring him to try. “You don’t get to decide that for me.”

“I just did,” he replied coolly, eyes narrowing as he looked down at you. “You're not to challenge me in front of the pack. You will dress appropriately, as befits a queen."

You clenched your jaw, a white-hot rage bubbling under your skin.

“You’ll attend all royal ceremonies, whether you want to or not. And there will be no emotional displays in public,” he continued, his voice like iron.

You advanced on him, fury swirling in your veins. “And what if I do?” you dared, eyes gleaming with defiance. “What if I make a scene? What if I let the whole pack know who I'm and how you treat me?”

“There will be no physical intimacy between us, unless I say otherwise.”

That statement landed like a blow. For a second, you couldn’t respond, your heart hammering in your chest. But you recovered quickly, your lips curling into a sharp, humorless smile.

He remained unmoved. “You will not voice your opinion on pack matters, nor will you challenge the council.”

Your eyes burned with a fierce light. “I’ll challenge anyone I damn well please,” you snapped, stepping even closer. “You can make all the rules you want, but I'll do what I wish.”

“Thats all! I trust that’s clear?”

“Crystal clear,” you growled, sarcastically, your fists shaking with the need to lash out. “But don’t expect me to just obey like one of your trained wolves.”

“patricia will accompany you back to your room,” he said, gesturing toward Patricia, who stood dumbfounded, her mouth agape, her eyes darting between you and Jungkook.

“Ye-yes, Your Majesty,” she stammered, clearly as shocked as you were.

She stepped closer to you, grabbing your hand and tugging gently as if to coax you away, but you couldn’t help throwing daggers at Jungkook with your eyes.

“Luna, please,” Shina pleaded, pulling at your sleeve.

But you weren’t done. Not by a long shot.

You turned sharply, locking eyes with Shina, who was pale and clearly terrified, but before she could speak, you whipped around to face him one last time. “I’m not your possession, and I never will be. One way or another, I will make my own choices.”

His lips twisted into a tight smile. “We’ll see,” he said, a low growl rumbling in his throat.

“I guess we will,” you shot back, your voice steady, daring, as you stormed out of the room, Patricia scrambling to follow.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind you, the floodgates of your emotions burst open. “He is a bastard!” you yelled, the words echoing through the room. Patricia’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes widening in shock as she darted a nervous glance at the door.

“Luna, he can hear you!” she hissed, but your anger had already ignited a fire within you, consuming all rational thought.

“I know!” you snapped back, a defiant spark igniting in your chest as you started walking like some deranged animal.

“Wait!” she called, scrambling to catch up to you. “Where are you going?”

“To my room! Duh!” you exclaimed, rolling your eyes as if the answer were the most obvious thing in the world.

“It’s on the other side,” she said, pointing right with an urgency that made her look almost comical. “And don’t say ‘duh!’”

“Whatever!” you shot back, heading in the direction she indicated, arms swinging at your sides.

As soon as you reached your room, you let out a primal scream of frustration, your voice ricocheting off the walls. You began to roam the room, while Patricia watched you with concern, her brow furrowing.

Just then, a sharp knock interrupted your spiral. You turned to Patricia, who nodded at you, her eyes wide as if to say, “Brace yourself.”

“Come in!” you called, trying to sound nonchalant, though your heart raced.

The door swung open, revealing Shina, the beta female, stepping inside with a bright smile. “Shina, FINALLY!” Patricia exclaimed, relief flooding her voice. You felt a flash of offense bubble up inside you—was it really that bad with you?

Shina let out a light laugh before turning her gaze to you, offering a small nod. “I’ve been told to serve as your etiquette teacher,” she said, executing a playful curtsy that made you giggle. “We’re going to have so much fun!”

You couldn’t help but smile back at her eagerness, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “Fun? Is that what we’re calling it?”

“I thought she would be provided with a real teacher,” Patricia chimed in, throwing Shina a side-eye that was dripping with sarcasm.

“Are you doubting me?” Shina asked, feigning offense, a hand on her hip, her expression a mix of mock indignation and amusement.

“No, of course not!” Patricia replied, forcing a sweet smile that barely hid her skepticism. “I’m just doubting your etiquette. Do you even have any?”

Your eyes widened in disbelief. You’d never seen Patricia like this; she was usually a bundle of nerves. But now, a smirk played at the corners of her mouth.

“Excuse me?!” Shina gasped, placing a hand on her chest in mock horror. “I’ll have you know that I can differentiate between a salad fork and a dessert fork!”

“Yeah! And, I eat water. But seriously, why you?” Patricia asked, her brow furrowing in confusion. Shina simply shrugged her shoulders, a nonchalant gesture that only fueled your suspicions. You knew the answer all too well: he didn't want anyone to know you were his mate—just the people who had to be in the loop.

“Shall we start?” Shina asked, breaking the tension as she clapped her hands together. Patricia flopped down onto a nearby chair by the window, her movement unceremonious as she rolled her eyes. “Yeah, be ready. But let me warn you, she’s the same woman who once called the duke ‘Dukie.’”

“Don’t mind her,” Shina said, waving her hand dismissively as if brushing away a fly. “She’s just a whiny ass.”

“I heard that!” Patricia shot back, her voice sharper than a knife, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

“I wanted you to hear it,” you chimed in, stifling a laugh at the bickering.

“It’s fine then,” Patricia said, crossing her arms defiantly, her chin tilted up as if she were accepting a challenge.

The two of them were practically squabbling like an old married couple, and you couldn't help but feel amused. Shina leaned in closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “So, Luna—”

“Call me Bee,” you said, cutting her off as a genuine smile breaking through the heaviness in your chest. The nickname, a sweet remnant from your mother. Since her death, no one had used it, and it stung to remember how alone you felt without your wolf at your side after Jungkook had left you. It was as if a gaping void had settled in your mind.

“Are you sure?” Shina asked, glancing at Patricia, who wore an expression of surprise that mirrored your own.

“Yes,” you affirmed, nodding your head fervently.

“Okie!” Shina chirped, bouncing on her feet.

The next few hours dissolved into a whirlwind of laughter and playful jabs from Patricia as Shina animatedly imparted lessons on royal protocol and warrior ethics. You found yourself gasping for breath between fits of giggles at their banter, the absurdity of their comments lightening your mood. Shina was undeniably fun, and you noticed how Patricia relaxed, the rigid lines of her discipline softening in Shina’s presence.

“Finally, we are done!” you screeched, flopping onto your bed like a rag doll, your limbs sprawling out. Patricia, who had been perched on the edge of the bed for what felt like an eternity, looked over at you, a mix of concern and amusement on her face.

“Bee, that wasn’t very queen-like—” she began, her tone teasing, but you shot her a playful glare.

“Shut up!” Shina interjected, her laughter ringing out like a bell. Patricia merely shook her head, a smile breaking through her feigned exasperation. You found it funny how their relationship worked; Patricia was the serious one, and Shina was the carefree one. You couldn't help but wonder how the two of them got along so well in a world that felt so strange to you.

“Bee, now we gotta go,” Shina said, her voice dropping slightly as she held out her hand to Patricia, their fingers interlacing.

“Where?” you asked, a flicker of disappointment gnawing at your insides. You didn’t want them to leave. They had become your lifeline, distracting you from thoughts of Jungkook and the confusion he left behind. Without them, the looming silence would creep back in, suffocating you to no end.

“I’m sorry, Bee, but we have urgent matters to address,” Shina said, her smile tinged with sadness. “But you can come with us if you want to,” she added, her expression brightening as hope glimmered in her eyes.

You nodded eagerly. “Yes! I want to come!”

The three of you made your way out of the room, and a big smile spread across your face. Life in your old pack had been tough, each day a struggle to find your place, but it was different here. Despite Jungkook’s coldness and the constant feeling of not being enough, you were grateful for the friendship blossoming around you. You didn’t know if Patricia and Shina considered you friends, but you sure did. Patricia still maintained a hint of formality, but you sensed she’d warm up eventually, just like Shina had.

“Where are we heading to?” you asked, glancing between the two as they shared a conspiratorial look, excitement dancing in their eyes.

“To the training field,” Shina answered, her voice light and cheerful. She looked at you with a soft smile that made her cheeks flush. “she is the general’s mate, so she is responsible for training the female wolves.” she said pointing at Patricia, as she also blushed for the reasons unknown to you. Her shyness was endearing, but the way her smile faded a bit as she added, “And we also need to train,” hinted at the challenge ahead.

Unfortunately, Jungkook had forbidden you from training—an order that left you feeling more like a caged bird than ever. You didn’t understand why he loathed you so much; his harshness felt like a wall between you. But deep down, you knew this couldn’t last. You couldn’t keep stewing in sadness and anger while he remained a closed book, hiding his emotions from you. You needed to confront him soon; you needed your mate, and he needed you, too, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

“Oh! So you mean you’re going there to train and not to eye-fuck the beta?” Patricia piped up, her voice teasing, a wide smirk lighting up her face and a laugh bubbled from your throat.

Shina’s eyes widened in mock horror, her mouth forming an exaggerated “O.” “Patricia! You can’t say that! We have to keep it professional!” She feigned scandal, a hand pressed dramatically against her chest, yet the laughter dancing in her eyes betrayed her.

“Professional? Please!” Patricia rolled her eyes, flicking her hair over her shoulder with a flourish. “The only thing you do professionally is blushing every time beta Kian walks by! I am like woman, he is your damn mate. Get a grip!”

“Oh, and what about you, Miss ‘I Can’t Stop Staring’?” Shina shot back, playfully bumping her shoulder against Patricia's as they walked side by side. “If I recall, you nearly drooled on Neil the other day!”

“Hey! He’s just so—” Patricia started, her cheeks flushing a deep red, “—dreamy! I can’t help it!” She huffed, crossing her arms defiantly but couldn’t hide her smirk.

“Dreamy? More like a heartthrob disaster waiting to happen!” Shina retorted, throwing her head back in laughter, their voices filling the hallway with warmth.

“Will he be there too?” you asked, your voice wavering slightly as both of them paused their bickering to focus on you. Shina’s eyes lit up with a knowing smirk that made your heart race, while Patricia's expression softened, a hint of sympathy in her gaze. She smiled gently, but it didn’t reach her eyes as she whispered, “Yes.”

You nodded slowly, the weight of her understanding hanging in the air. Patricia knew the ache of longing all too well; she had fought her own battles to be with her mate. Neither of you spoke further on the subject as you continued walking toward the training ground. It felt like a long trek, the palace sprawling before you.

As you entered the training field, the chaos hit you like a wave. The air buzzed with energy as female wolves sparred, fists flying in a flurry of movement. Grunts of exertion and the thud of bodies colliding filled the space. It was a sight to behold, but not the prettiest—some faces were twisted with concentration, others were flushed with effort, while some were twisted in pain.

Shina and Patricia quickly motioned you to take a seat in one corner, a quick nod from Shina signaling for you to stay put while they dashed off to change into their training gear.

You took a moment to absorb the scene before you. The female wolves fought with determination, their bodies glistening with sweat under the warm sun. The breathy grunts hanging heavy in the air and... you wanted to join too.

Yet, as you sat on the sidelines, you felt a pang of frustration at Jungkook’s orders. Why had he insisted you stay away from training? You glanced toward the empty side of the field, the male wolves’ training area—silent for now, but you knew they would be there soon. Would Jungkook be among them? Your heart raced at the thought, and your wolf stirred again.

Soon, both Shina and Patricia came sprinting toward you, their bodies clad in sleek training gear that hugged their athletic frames. Shina practically leaped into your space as she exclaimed, “Bee, she will measure the performance of them all! You can wait here while I go help her.” The brightness in her eyes was contagious, and you nodded in agreement, feeling a little like a lost puppy trying to keep up.

They dashed away toward the combat pit, and you watched as Patricia's voice rang out like a bell, instantly commanding attention. “Listen up, everyone!” she called, her tone firm yet encouraging. The warriors immediately fell into line, forming neat rows as Shina moved among them, dividing them into teams with an air of authority that surprised you. It lasted only a moment before the clashing of fists and feet began, filling the air with a rhythm of combat.

You leaned back against the cool wall, eyes wide as you observed the spectacle. The warriors displayed impressive skills, each move fluid and powerful. You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of inadequacy—there was no way you could compete, even against the weakest here. This was the royal pack, after all, and they were warriors forged from years of dedication and strength.

Still, you found a sliver of enjoyment in the chaos. Watching them fight was far better than sitting alone in your room, staring at the walls that felt like they were closing in on you. And soon the other training area began to fill up. You spotted Kian entering first, his presence commanding. Shina’s eyes lit up, practically sparkling as she stared at him, her focus wavering. “Shina, focus!” Patricia called out, exasperation lacing her tone as she tried to bring her back to reality. But Shina’s gaze kept drifting back to her shirtless mate, who seemed completely oblivious to the effect he had on everyone around him. Kian was not just hot; he was undeniably hot hot, the kind of hot that drew attention without effort.

You let out a soft chuckle at their antics, but then, out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of a dark figure emerging from the shadows. Your heart skipped a beat as a chill raced down your spine. The air around you shifted, crackling with an intense energy that sent heat biting through your bones. A deep, primal desire ignited in your core, wrapping around your heart like a vine.

He was here.

Jungkook.

You turned your head slightly, trying to catch a glimpse of him without being obvious, and there he stood in the farthest corner of the training ground, shirtless. Jungkook's eyes were locked on you, igniting a fire deep within your chest. His jaw tightened, and his brows furrowed in a way that made your heart race. The world around you seemed to fade, leaving only his intense gaze that set you ablaze.

With a deliberate slowness, he strode toward the combat pit where Kian waited, a devilish glint flashing in his eyes. Neil, the general, stood off to the side, focused on the other male warriors, a commanding presence that left no room for doubt. But all you could think about was Jungkook. Your breath hitched as he casually began to unbutton his white shirt, each button giving way one by one, exposing more of his chiselled torso. You let out a low whine before you even realized it was your wolf reacting to the sight of him.

Out of all the times for your wolf to make her presence known, she chose now? But who could blame her? Your mate was standing there in low-hanging trousers, his bare skin catching the sunlight and highlighting the contours of his muscles. The sight was intoxicating, and a primal urge surged through you as your wolf growled in your mind, a low rumble of frustration mingling with desire.

“Look at him, Bee. He is so hot,” she purred, her voice sultry and teasing. “Bee, why doesn't he want us?” You could feel her longing vibrating through your very being, making it hard to concentrate on anything else.

As Jungkook and Kian circled each other in the pit. Kian lunged first, throwing a sharp right hook aimed at Jungkook’s jaw, but Jungkook sidestepped with lightning speed, barely lifting an eyebrow in acknowledgement. Kian was quick to recover, spinning on his heel and throwing a swift jab to Jungkook’s ribs, but it was met with nothing but air. Jungkook had already ducked low, his body moving like it had anticipated the strike long before it happened.

Kian came in harder this time, eyes blazing with determination, throwing a barrage of punches. Jungkook dodged the first few easily, his movements fluid, then caught Kian’s wrist mid-punch with a grip like iron. For a second, they stood there, locked in place, the power struggle evident. Jungkook's eyes narrowed, his grip tightening just enough for Kian to wince.

Without warning, Kian yanked his arm free, pivoting low and sweeping Jungkook's legs out from under him. Jungkook hit the ground hard, but before Kian could press the advantage, Jungkook rolled out of reach, popping back up to his feet with the same effortless grace.

Kian charged again, this time aiming a vicious uppercut. Jungkook ducked just in time, feeling the brush of Kian’s fist pass over his hair. Jungkook countered immediately, his fist slamming into Kian’s gut with a dull thud that echoed in the pit. Kian grunted, staggering back a few steps, but he didn’t go down.

Jungkook didn’t let up. He stepped forward, driving his elbow into Kian’s side, a brutal strike that sent him stumbling to his knees. For a moment, Jungkook paused, chest rising and falling steadily, his eyes locked on Kian. It was like he was waiting — giving him a chance to get up, to fight back. There was no malice in his eyes, only dominance.

But Kian wasn’t finished. He sprang up, swinging wildly, desperate now. Jungkook blocked the punches with ease, his forearms absorbing the blows like they were nothing. When Kian threw a wild hook, Jungkook sidestepped, grabbed the back of his neck, and yanked him forward. They collided, chest to chest, Jungkook’s lips curling into a smirk as Kian struggled to free himself from his grip.

In one smooth motion, Jungkook twisted and slammed Kian to the ground, hard. Kian gasped, the wind knocked from his lungs as he hit the dirt with a heavy thud. Jungkook loomed over him, his knee pressing into Kian’s chest, pinning him in place. The fight was over — Jungkook didn’t need to say a word. His body, his presence, declared victory.

He stood slowly, letting Kian catch his breath, but his gaze never once wavered. He rolled his neck, muscles flexing as he looked down at his fallen opponent, then turned away without another glance.

Your heart sank, disappointment washing over you like a wave, leaving you breathless. Your wolf, however, was undeterred.

“He doesn’t even looked at us,” she sulked, her voice a mix of longing and frustration.

As you watched him turn away, the heat in your core only intensified as you unknowingly pressed your legs together. Your gaze lingered on his retreating figure, every step he took echoing in your chest. You couldn’t help but think of how strong he was, how much power he radiated, and how desperately you wanted to be close to him.

The combat pit was still bustling around you, but all you could see was Jungkook, the way he carried himself with a confidence that made your heart race. “Why won’t you look at me?” you thought, frustration bubbling within you as you watched him leave.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, painting the horizon in hues of orange and pink, you found yourself wandering back to your room. Shina escorted you, but you could sense her eagerness to leave as she still had to bath and wash away the sweat of training. After a brief goodbye, she left you alone, and the silence settled heavily around you.

At night dinner came and went, delivered by a maid who whisked in and out with a tray of food that you barely touched. The sheets cool against your skin felt nice, but sleep eluded you. Tossing and turning only brought frustration, and after hours of restless thoughts, you resigned yourself to the fact that tonight would be a long one.

With a deep sigh, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and stood, the cool floor grounding you. You stepped out into the empty halls of the palace, the quiet amplified by the vastness of the space. The air was thick with a stillness that made every sound seem sharper.

As you walked, your eyes drifted over the majestic paintings that adorned the walls. Each one was a reminder of the lineage that loomed over you. You paused before a portrait that caught your attention—a striking depiction of Jungkook’s father, the late Lycan king. His strong features were chiseled in a way that demanded respect, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness for Jungkook. He had lost so much at such a young age, thrust into a role that should have belonged to a father, a king. You could only imagine the weight of that responsibility, the expectations that came with it.

Taking a deep breath, you continued down the hallway. The corridor opened into the royal garden, where the moon hung high in the sky, casting silvery light over the landscape. You stepped outside, the cool night air wrapping around you like a soothing balm. The moon was full, its glow reflecting off the petals of the flowers and illuminating the leaves of the trees.

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting the serenity wash over you. This was the time when werewolves felt most connected to the world, to each other, to the wild magic that flowed through your veins. You could feel the pull of the moon, urging you to embrace your true nature.

As you gazed up at the night sky, a sense of calm enveloped you. The moon was a reminder that even in darkness, there was beauty to be found. You longed to share this moment with Jungkook, to let him see the side of you that yearned for love and understanding. The thought made your heart flutter, igniting a flicker of warmth within you.

“What brings you here?” The voice came from behind you, deep and resonant, causing you to turn around, startled. There he stood—Jungkook, the moonlight casting a silver halo around him. For the first time since you met, his expression was calm, devoid of the anger and confusion that usually clouded his features. In that moment, he looked almost ethereal, and you felt your heart race.

“Nothing,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “I wasn't able to sleep, so I was just wandering around and found myself here.” You shrugged, your hands fidgeting nervously at your sides.

He motioned for you to follow him, and without hesitation, you fell into step beside him. The soft crunch of gravel underfoot was the only sound accompanying the stillness of the night as he led you deeper into the garden, the fragrant scent of blooming flowers enveloping you both.

“It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?” he asked, glancing at you from the corner of his eye, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“Indeed, your majesty,” you agreed, your voice barely above a whisper. The night was enchanting, each star twinkling like diamonds against the velvet sky, but an unsettling feeling clung to you.

Suddenly, he halted, turning to face you, his gaze intense. His eyes widened slightly, and the soft pout of his lips drew your attention. “You can call me by my name; you’re my mate,” he stated, a hint of authority in his tone, as if there was no room for argument. Before you could respond, he resumed walking, leaving you momentarily stunned.

His words, sweet yet loaded with expectation, he himself was unable to fulfill, left a bitter taste in your mouth. A sharp retort bubbled on your tongue, a protest against the very idea that he could command you so easily. But instead of voicing your anger, you chose silence. You swallowed hard, forcing down the instinct to lash out. Instead, you fell in step behind him, your heart racing, a storm of emotions swirling inside you.

As you walked, the tension hung heavy in the air, a force that wrapped around you both. His broad shoulders were relaxed, yet you could sense the underlying power that radiated from him with each step. You stole glances at his profile, the way the moonlight danced along his sharp jawline, the faint shadow of stubble framing his lips.

You soon found Jungkook stopping, settling down on the soft grass beneath him. He motioned for you to join him, but you shook your head, a sudden shyness washing over you. “I can’t sit on the ground,” you said, gesturing toward your clothes. “It’s expensive.”

A flicker of confusion crossed his features. “What do you mean?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, his dark hair catching the moonlight.

You looked away, unable to meet his gaze. “I come from a low pack. We don’t wear things like this,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve never owned anything so fancy.”

For a moment, you braced yourself for his reaction, expecting him to laugh or make some snide remark. Instead, to your astonishment, he shrugged off his coat, laying it down on the grass. “Here,” he said, his voice steady. “Sit on this.” He extended his hand to you, palm up, inviting you to take it.

Your heart raced as you hesitated, then slowly placed your hand in his. A low, breathy moan escaped your lips as a tingling sensation flooded through your body. His eyes widened for a brief moment, and you could see the flicker of surprise before he masked it, helping you lower yourself onto his coat.

“But,” you murmured, your heart pounding. The warmth of his hand lingered in yours, and you didn’t want to let go. “Is it really okay?”

“It’s just a coat,” he replied, though the intensity in his gaze suggested otherwise. “I’d rather you be comfortable.”

You sat there for what felt like an eternity, the silence stretching between you. Finally, you decided to break it, curiosity nudging at you. “So… what’s it like being a king?” As soon as those words skipped your lips you internally cringed, this was embarassing, you wanted to take, but not like this.

He chuckled softly, a sound that sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. There are expectations, duties—lots of politics.”

“Sounds boring,” you said, raising an eyebrow playfully. “Do you ever get to do anything fun?”

He smiled, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Occasionally. But mostly, I have to focus on the pack. It’s a lot of responsibility.” His tone turned serious, and you could see the weight of his role pressing down on him.

“Doesn’t it get lonely?” you asked, tilting your head, trying to gauge his reaction. “Being king and all, with so many people around but no one really understanding you?”

“Sometimes,” he admitted, looking away into the distance, his jaw tightening slightly. “But I have people I trust.”

You didn't said anything after that and a calming silence enveloped the two of you, as peaceful as the soft glow of the moonlight overhead. Unable to resist, you broke the stillness, once again. “Jungkook?”

“Hmmm?” His voice was low and gentle, his eyes fixed on the moon, reflecting a light that felt almost ethereal.

“Do you dance?” You asked.

You hesitated, then spoke again with a mix of hope and vulnerability. “Do you know… when I was young, I always dreamed of dancing under the moonlight with my mate.” You paused, gauging his reaction as the words hung in the air, thick and heavy. "Do you dance?" You couldn't help but ask as you braced yourself for the rejection.

His gaze shifted from the moon to you, and for a moment, the world around you faded into insignificance. “No,” he admitted softly, the vulnerability in his voice surprising you. But then he added, “But I might,” and something in his tone sent shivers down your spine, a hint of something deeper glimmering in his eyes.

Your heart raced as you felt a warmth blooming in your chest, something dark yet lovely igniting within you, making your pulse quicken. The atmosphere crackled with unspoken tension, and you couldn’t look away from him.

Without warning, he rose to his feet, extending his hand towards you. You smiled brightly, your heart soaring at the gesture, and without hesitation, you grasped his hand. The familiar tingling sensation surged through your body, igniting a warmth that spread from your fingertips to your core.

“Come on,” he murmured, his voice low and inviting, and you felt your breath hitch as you stood beside him. He gently pulled you closer, his other hand resting lightly on your waist, guiding you into a slow sway.

But as the dance slowed, reality crept back in, and he gently pulled away, his hand still clasped around yours. “I should escort you back to your room,” he said, his tone shifting back to that of the king, though the warmth in his gaze lingered.

You nodded, a hint of reluctance creeping in. “I guess it’s late,” you replied, your heart still racing from the dance.

As you walked side by side, the silence was comfortable. Jungkook led you back through the garden. When you reached your door, he turned to face you, his expression softening once more. “Goodnight,” he said, a hint of something deeper in his voice.

“Goodnight, Jungkook,” you replied, you wanted to reach out, to pull him back, but instead, you simply smiled.

As you closed the door, you made your way to the bed, a soft sigh escaping your lips. The cool sheets felt inviting against your skin as you slipped under the covers, your heart still racing from the dance and the fleeting touches. You closed your eyes, as you smiled softly. Maybe, just maybe everything was finally falling back to it's place. You were not to lie, you liked Jungkook and mate bond was thickening every second every minute, it was only strengthening your feelings and was making you more vulnerable to him. And, who are you to deny the truth that you desperately needed that doe eyed king. You let your thoughts drift, a soft smile spreading across your face. In the quiet of your dreams, you found him again, lost in a world where he was as desperate for you as you were for him. You dream of him, you dream of him dreaming you as desperately as you were dreaming of him.

In the middle of the night, you jolted awake. The room around you glowed with dancing shadows, moonlight slipping through the curtains like whispers, casting silver patterns on the walls. You blinked, it was past midnight and you were unable to go back to sleep.

Cocooned in warm sheets, you took a deep breath, the scent of something sweet and salty wrapping around you like a gentle embrace.

You quietly slipped out of bed, the soft pad of your feet brushing against the cool floor. For a moment, you stood frozen, unsure of what to do, scanning the darkness that enveloped you. Your instincts kicked in, sharpening your senses as you stepped out of your room, the shadows swallowing you whole. Each step felt instinctual, as if an invisible thread tugged at your heart, beckoning you forward. It was a magnetic pull, calling your name, compelling you to follow like a desperate devotee.

Suddenly, you heard a low murmur. It was coming from a room. You hesitated, knowing you shouldn’t intrude, but that voice broke something inside you. With trembling hands, you slowly opened the door, and the sight before you shattered your heart.

There lay Jungkook on his bed, thrashing about, his face twisted in distress as he murmured incoherent whispers. His brow was furrowed, and his lips trembled, as if he was fighting against some unseen torment. You didn't even realised you had come all the way to price chamber. You rushed to his side, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Jungkook,” you called softly, reaching out to gently shake him. “Wake up.”

His eyes flew open, wide and confused, the fear in them piercing through the haze of his nightmares. For a brief moment, shock flickered across his face, and then he froze, taking in your presence.

“Why are you here?” he rasped, his voice hoarse and raw.

“I heard you,” you whispered, your heart racing.

"What were you doing tiptoeing around my room?" He practically screamed screamed at you, pushing you away.

"N—no. I—I wasn't," you said, shaking your head trying to reach out to him.

Anger flashing in his eyes. “You think you can just come in here and play the savior?”

“Jungkook, what? What are you even say? I just wanted to help!” you pleaded, stepping closer, desperate to reach him.

“Help? You think you can help? You think you’re the solution to my problems?” he sneered, his expression hardening. “I hate you! You think this is love? I will ever love you? Never!”

The pain in his words felt like a physical blow. “That’s not fair!” you cried, your voice shaking. “I’m not trying to intrude. I just want to—!”

"I don't care," he growled, glaring at you, his fists clenched at his sides. “You think you can understand what it’s like to be me? To have everyone around you suffer because of your existence?”

You felt your heart sink further, but you were unable to understand his words. It was like they were written in a foreign language and although you did know the alphabets, were unable to make sense of a whole sentence. “I’m not trying to do anything! I’m here because I care about you!”

“Care? Is that what you call this?” he shouted, his voice rising with frustration as a low whimper left your throat. “Oh! Sweet mate, do you really think a weak voice and sad eyes would help you? Do you think you get to be all fragile now?”

Tears stung your eyes as you fought to hold them back. “But I merely intended to help!” you insisted, desperate for him to see the truth. “You don’t have to push me away!”

“Why would I want you around?” he hissed, his gaze piercing through you. “You’re nothing but a reminder of everything I can’t have, everything I shouldn't have, and I’m here to make sure you don’t get hurt.”

With each word, your heart broke a little more, the weight of his rejection crushing you. “I thought... I thought we, toge—,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Together?” he echoed, his voice dripping with scorn. “You think that’s what this is? You’re wrong! The moon goddess has cursed you, and now you have to deal with it."

"But—"

"Leave!”

Without another word, you dashed down the hall, the world around you blurring as you pushed the door to your room open and locked it behind you. Sliding down against the cool wood, you let the tears flow freely. You couldn’t believe this was happening. For years, you had dreamed of having a mate. After losing your parents at such a young age, you had felt all alone. Life had been hard, but the thought of having someone to love, cherish, and adore had kept you going. But how had it all come to this? After praying to the moon goddess for years, you finally had a mate, and he didn’t want you. Was it true what your pack members always said? Were you really cursed? Were you really destined to be nothing but an abomination?

Now, it felt like you truly were cursed and unlovable, an abomination. You called out to your wolf, reaching for her, but she felt so distant, drowning in the loss of a mate she never really had. Jungkook’s words echoed in your mind, and the pain of his rejection was nothing compared to the hollow ache of losing your wolf.

“Please,” you begged again, your voice cracking, but silence filled the empty corners of your mind. A shrill sob escaped your throat, a sound of desperation and grief. You cried, each sob tearing through you as you let the waves of sorrow wash over you. You cried until you couldn’t anymore, until your tears ran dry, and exhaustion pulled you under like a heavy blanket.

Finally, the weight of it all became too much, and you fell into a deep slumber, your heart still aching but momentarily free from the torment of reality.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

"Bee." A soft voice pulled you out of the fog of sleep, nudging you back to consciousness. You groaned as the sunlight filtered through the window, the brightness bouncing off the walls and stabbing your eyes like tiny needles. You turned your head away with a low whine, squeezing your eyes shut tighter against the overwhelming light.

"Bee?" The voice was closer now, more insistent. You blinked your eyes open reluctantly and saw Shina crouched beside you. Concern was etched deeply into her face, her brows furrowed, lips pressed in a thin line. Her hand reached out, gently gripping your arm, and she slowly helped you sit up from the cold floor.

"Why were you sleeping on the floor?" she asked, her voice gentle, though her worry was unmistakable. Her eyes, wide and searching, bore into yours, trying to find an answer you weren’t ready to give.

You blinked at Shina, still dazed, feeling like you were floating in a fog. The memory of last night twisted in your chest, squeezing tighter with every second that passed. His words, so sharp and cold, cut through you again, making it hard to breathe. You had tried to push them away, but the hurt clung to you, pulling you down.

"Bee, what happened?" Shina asked again, her voice low but urgent, her grip on your arm growing tighter. Her eyes searched yours, wide with worry, but you could barely meet them. You tried to speak, to say anything, but your throat was tight, and the pressure behind your eyes made your vision blur. She was so close, her concern so raw and real, that it only made you feel more fragile. You felt like you could break at any moment.

The weight of it all pressed down on you—her worry, the memory of his cruelty—and you felt the tears threaten to spill over. You blinked them away quickly, refusing to let them fall, and forced yourself to speak.

"I'm okay," you murmured, though your voice cracked, barely more than a whisper. It wavered, weak and uncertain, but you straightened your shoulders, trying to sound firm. Shina's eyes softened, her lips parting as if she wanted to argue, but she held back. Instead, she nodded, though you could tell she didn’t believe a word.

"Right..." she said, clearing her throat. "Ahrm, I came to call you for breakfast." She tried to sound cheerful, but there was a hesitancy in her voice, the usual bounce missing.

"Breakfast?" you repeated, like the word itself didn’t make sense.

"Yeah," she nodded, motioning toward the bathroom. "You should get ready."

"Oh." You nodded slowly, as if on autopilot, and grabbed the yellow dress sitting on the edge of the bed. Shina had bought it for you, and you knew it meant something, but the significance felt distant now. Your body moved without thought, heading to the bathroom like it was just another day.

Inside, you let the water run hot, scalding almost, trying to feel something other than the ache that had settled deep in your chest. The steam wrapped around you, clouding your vision, but it couldn’t chase away the storm swirling in your head.

When you finally stepped out, Shina was waiting, her smile soft but cautious. “Bee, you look pretty,” she said, handing you a small box wrapped in delicate paper.

You took it, staring blankly at the box in your hand. "What’s this?"

"Jungkook asked me to give it to you." Her eyes flickered with something—excitement, maybe—but you weren’t sure. You nodded, barely acknowledging her as you tossed the box onto the bed without a second glance.

"I’m not opening it," you said flatly, your voice cold and distant.

Shina hesitated, her lips parting to say something, but she closed them quickly, offering a half-hearted nod. "Okay... Let's go."

The walk to the dining hall was quiet, too quiet. Shina glanced at you from time to time, but you were lost in your thoughts, diving deep into the darkness that had settled in your heart. Last night had been a dream—Jungkook had been so kind, so sweet, so real. For the first time, you had believed there might be a chance. But the way he had pushed you away so harshly afterward… it shattered everything.

“Bee, this way,” Shina said, guiding you through the doors and into the hall. The massive dining table stretched out before you, with Jungkook seated at the far end. His eyes were focused on his plate, avoiding your gaze entirely. Kian sat beside him, his arm casually dropped over the table. The other seats filled quickly with Neil, Patricia, and several others you barely registered.

Shina nudged you gently into the seat beside Jungkook, her smile forced, trying to ease the tension. "Come on, Bee. It’s just breakfast. Nothing too dramatic, right?" She chuckled awkwardly, but it fell flat in the heavy air. She glanced at Kian, who gave her a small, supportive smile, but you could tell even she felt the weight of Jungkook’s presence, of his silence.

You sat stiffly, your back straight, eyes locked on the table in front of you. Jungkook’s hand gripped his fork tightly, knuckles white, but he never looked your way. Not once.

Shina, trying to break the ice, leaned forward. "Bee," she started, forcing a grin, "Why don't you try pancakes? It's really good. Right, Kian?" She wiggled her eyebrows at Kian, trying to coax a smile out of you.

You glanced at her, offering a weak, polite smile, but your heart wasn’t in it.

Kian smirked, shaking his head. "Yes, this beautiful beside me loves pancakes!."

Jungkook’s fork clinked against his plate, the subtle sound sharper than it should’ve been. His jaw clenched, and for a second, his gaze flickered to you, something raw and almost vulnerable flashing in his eyes before he quickly looked away.

You felt the knot in your throat tighten, but you swallowed it down, refusing to let it show. There was no apology, no acknowledgment, just silence.

"Bee?" Shina’s voice broke through the fog, her hand gently resting on yours under the table. Her touch was warm, grounding you in the moment.

You blinked, shaking your head slightly. "Yeah?"

"Do you want me to take you out after breakfast? You know, just the two of us? We can talk... or not talk, whatever you want."

Jungkook’s shoulders tensed, his breath catching for just a second. But still, he said nothing.

You met Shina’s eyes, her genuine worry for you reflected in them. You gave a small nod, even though your chest felt heavy. "Yeah, sure. I’d love that," you whispered, your voice barely holding together.

Jungkook shifted beside you, his fork clattering against the plate as he finally spoke. "You guys should probably go out. Take Patricia with you too." His voice was steady, but cold, distant. He still didn’t look at you, directing his words toward Shina.

A bitter laugh slipped from your lips before you could stop it. The sound made him go rigid, though he still wouldn’t meet your eyes. It was ridiculous, really, how he could be so close yet feel so unreachable.

Breakfast ended in uncomfortable silence. You stood up quietly, your chair scraping the floor as you excused yourself. Jungkook’s eyes followed your movement for a fleeting moment, but when you looked back, they were fixed on his plate again.

Alone, you made your way back to your room, each step feeling heavier than the last. You lingered by the window, staring out at the world beyond. It was strange—Jungkook suggesting you go out, as if it made any difference. As if letting you walk through town would somehow patch the holes he left in you.

But of course, he didn’t care. He made that clear last night.

A knock echoed through your room, loud against the silence, snapping you from your thoughts. Reluctantly, you crossed the room and opened the door to find a man in a black uniform standing there, his posture rigid.

"His Majesty has assigned me to escort you outside the palace, for your protection.," he said with no introduction, his tone all business. The man was imposing—broad-shouldered, with a no-nonsense expression. He didn’t waste time on pleasantries. "Please, come. Beta female is already waiting."

You nodded, not really knowing what else to do, and followed as he motioned for you to walk beside him. His steps were measured, precise, and soon you were outside, seated in a car heading who knew where. Kenji, as you later learned his name was, drove with Shina beside him, her usual chatty demeanor subdued, while Patricia sat next to you in silence.

"Kenji, stop by The Velvet Pheasant," Shina said, her voice firm but distracted, not even glancing at him.

"Sure, beta female," he replied, his deep voice steady as he turned the wheel. The car came to a smooth halt outside an extravagant boutique, the kind that screamed prestige from the way it gleamed in the afternoon sun. The building’s grand façade loomed over you, polished and perfect, and you felt a wave of reluctance wash over you.

Stepping out of the car, Patricia told Kenji to wait outside, and he responded with a curt nod and a surprisingly warm gummy smile. You followed the girls inside, feeling the cool air hit you as soon as you entered. An older woman rushed toward Shina with surprising speed, her arms flung wide for an embrace.

"Shina, you’ve completely forgotten about me. Don't come to visit aunt anymore" the woman cried, clutching Shina tightly. "I haven’t seen you in ages! I even asked your mother, and she just said, 'Oh, you know Shina is busy these days.' Busy, huh?"

Shina stiffened in the woman’s arms, her face scrunched up in what could only be described as pure agony. You stifled a laugh but quickly regretted it as the woman released Shina and turned toward you and Patricia, her sharp eyes locking onto you.

Before you could react, Patricia shoved you forward and darted toward Shina, leaving you in the crosshairs. The old woman’s grip was strong, pulling you into a hug that felt more like a bear trap than a greeting. You could hear the two girls giggling behind you as they escaped her clutches, leaving you alone at her mercy.

For what felt like hours, you were trapped in a whirlwind of fabric, as Shina and Patricia pulled you from one section of the boutique to another. Dresses, shoes, accessories—Shina practically bought the whole store for you, her way of making the day brighter despite everything.

As the sun began to set, you all piled back into the car, exhaustion settling in. Kenji, who had been nothing but stoic all day, had softened slightly, sharing small bits of conversation with you along the ride. He was one of the royal warriors, you found out—highly respected, and one of the deadliest. Yet, despite his fearsome reputation, there was a kindness to him that you hadn't expected. You also found out that he was yet to find his mate.

The drive back to the palace felt quieter, more solemn, and the closer you got, the heavier your chest became. The fun you’d had during the day was slowly slipping away, replaced by the cold reality of where you were heading. You stared out the window, watching the world outside blur past, feeling the tightness return to your throat.

As the palace gates came into view, you couldn’t help but sigh, the happiness from earlier fading entirely. You didn’t want to go back. You didn’t want to face him again.

But you had no choice.

The car rolled to a stop, and with a deep breath, you stepped out, the weight of the palace settling back on your shoulders.

You stepped out of the car, the weight of the day pressing down on you. The girls had already been swept up by their mates, leaving you alone with Kenji, who gently helped you with the bags. His kind smile softened the growing pit in your stomach, but even Kenji, as sweet as he was, kept his distance. When you reached your room, he handed you the bags, his hands lingering for only a moment before he stepped back, eyes cast down.

"I can’t enter," he said, almost shy. "It’s not right to be alone with an unmated she-wolf."

You nodded, appreciating the respect, even though it only reminded you of your isolation. “Thank you, Kenji,” you murmured.

He gave a small wave before disappearing down the hall, leaving you to the quiet hum of your empty room. The door clicked shut behind you, sealing the silence.

You tossed the bags onto the bed, your eyes drifting over to the box you’d been avoiding all day. That damn purple-wrapped box. With a sigh, you grabbed it, tearing off the wrapper without care. Inside, nestled in velvet, was a delicate heart-shaped necklace, the same shade of purple that always reminded you of him.

But instead of the warmth it once might have brought, a bitter taste rose in your throat. He thought this would fix everything. That after the things he said, the coldness he showed, a necklace could make it all go away? Your fingers tightened around it until your knuckles turned white. The bastard knew—he knew—how much it meant to you when you told him you’d never owned anything expensive. And now, it felt like a cruel joke, like he was throwing your words back in your face.

Without thinking, you stormed out of the room, the necklace clenched in your fist. Your feet carried you down the long corridors to his chambers, each step fueled by the fire burning in your chest. You didn’t care who saw you, or how fast you were moving. You just needed to see him, to confront him.

As you reached his door, hand raised to knock, the sound of voices froze you in place.

"No," Jungkook’s voice boomed from behind the door, the rage in his tone making your breath catch. "I refuse to be tied to her. I didn’t choose this. I don’t love her. I don’t want any of it."

The necklace almost slipped from your grip, the metal cutting into your palm as your heart cracked.

"You need to understand, Kian," Jungkook continued, voice harsher now, "I’m not willing to do this."

"But even the elders want this," Kian replied, his voice softer, almost pleading. "Today, you were lucky she wasn’t here, but how long can you really hide her from the world? One day, you’ll have to accept her."

"Never," Jungkook spat, his voice cutting through the air like a blade.

Kian's next words were too quiet to make out, but they were followed by the unmistakable sound of footsteps heading toward the door. Panic surged through you, but before you could move, the door swung open.

There he was, standing before you—Jungkook. His face paled when he saw your tear-streaked cheeks, his eyes widening in shock. His lips parted as if to say something, but the words died in his throat.

He reached out, the apology already forming on his tongue, but you didn’t wait to hear it.

Without a second thought, you hurled the necklace at his chest, the metal clinking as it hit him and fell to the floor between you. His eyes flicked to the necklace, then back to you, his expression one of helpless guilt.

But you didn’t wait for an explanation. Your feet carried you away, heart pounding, vision blurred by tears. You didn’t stop until the corridor twisted out of sight, and even then, the weight of his words echoed in your mind, breaking you all over again.

As soon as you got to your room, you sank to the ground, your body trembling as you wrapped your arms around your knees. Hot tears streamed down your face, each sob tearing through you like a knife. A different ache settled in your heart, a hollow emptiness that expanded with every breath you took, leaving you feeling more lost and abandoned than ever.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

Jungkook sat rigidly in the chair beside the window, the moonlight spilling over him like a soft embrace, illuminating the sharp lines of his jaw and the furrow in his brow. Shadows danced across his face, mirroring the chaos swirling within him. He stared out into the darkness, eyes unfocused, lost in thoughts he couldn’t bear to confront. The silence in the room was suffocating, thick with unspoken words. A soft knock broke through, and he turned slightly, his voice devoid of emotion. “Come in.”

Kian stepped inside, his usual calm demeanor replaced by an unsettling gloom that weighed on him like a storm cloud. He crossed the room slowly and settled into the chair beside Jungkook. The air thickened with the weight of their unspoken fears.

“What brings you here, Kian?” Jungkook asked, his tone flat, gaze still trapped in the shimmering night sky. He could feel Kian’s eyes on him, probing, searching for answers.

“Why would you do that, Jungkook?” Kian’s voice trembled, breaking the stillness like a fragile glass shattering. He leaned forward, his brow knitted in worry. “why are you doing this? How could you sit here like this? Like nothing happened? She is your mate. You can’t just push her away like that. That’s not how things work, especially not with a mate bond.”

At the mention of you, Jungkook’s gaze snapped to Kian, sharp and defensive. The flicker of vulnerability quickly masked by anger. “What about her?” he demanded, an edge creeping into his voice, the tension coiling tighter in his chest.

“Shina told me Luna has been crying since evening.” Kian’s words were low, heavy with concern, sinking into Jungkook like stones in water. A silence enveloped them, punctuated only by Jungkook’s ragged breaths, as the gravity of Kian’s words settled in.

“Why?” Jungkook found himself asking, the question slipping out before he could stop it, though they both knew the answer. A suffocating heaviness settled in his chest, a mix of guilt and soul crushing swirling within him like a tempest.

“Jungkook, why not just accept the bond? Why—” Kian started, but Jungkook cut him off, frustration bubbling over. He ran a hand through his hair, eyes glinting with an intensity that betrayed his inner turmoil.

“She scares me, Kian,” Jungkook admitted, his voice tight, his jaw clenching as he turned away again. “She’s everything I—” He stopped himself abruptly, the words hanging in the air, unfinished. His fists clenched on his lap, the muscles in his arms tensing as he fought to maintain control.

“What?” Kian pressed, leaning forward, desperate to understand. “Everything you what, Jungkook?”

Jungkook’s face hardened, eyes darkening as the vulnerability retreated behind the walls he had carefully constructed. “Forget it,” he snapped, his voice cold. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Kian shook his head, frustration boiling beneath the surface. He leaned closer, his voice growing intense. “Love hurts above all, but we must never cease to do it. It’s painful, but you can’t run from it, Jungkook.”

“Love?” Jungkook scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping him, but it sounded hollow. “It’s not meant for me, Kian. I hurt everyone. I’m my father’s son, after all.” He leaned back, crossing his arms tightly across his chest, shutting himself off from Kian’s words.

“You’re not him,” Kian insisted, leaning forward, voice filled with passion. “You’re not your father, and she isn’t your mother. She won’t leave, and you won’t end up like him. Jungkook, don’t let bad memories of past ruin the possibilities of your future.” He reached out, almost as if to touch Jungkook’s arm, but hesitated, sensing the emotional wall between them.

“That’s the problem with memories, Kian,” Jungkook said, his voice dropping to a whisper, eyes darkening. “They never go away. They stay with you, and they eat you alive. I can’t forget, and I can’t love.” His words were cold, final, as if sealing his fate.

Kian’s frustration boiled over, his hands clenched into fists as he tried once more. “It’s not just about you, Jungkook. It’s about her too. You can’t keep pushing her away—”

“Leave, Kian,” Jungkook said, his voice sharp, commanding. His back straightened, the gesture almost regal, but the pain behind his eyes betrayed him.

“But Alpha—” Kian’s protest faded as he sensed the finality in Jungkook’s tone. He sat back, his shoulders slumping, disappointment and worry etched into his features.

“I said leave,” Jungkook repeated, turning his back to Kian, the room growing colder as the shadows deepened around him. The moonlight faded into darkness, mirroring the hollow ache in Jungkook’s heart.

Kian stood up slowly, his shoulders sagging with the weight of the conversation. He glanced back at Jungkook, his face tight with concern. “I just hope you don’t regret this, Alpha,” he said quietly, his voice carrying a note of finality. Without waiting for a response, Kian walked to the door, the soft click of it closing behind him echoing in the heavy silence left in his wake.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

"Luna, for how long will you keep crying like this?" Shina's voice was gentle, laced with concern as she knelt beside you, offering a plate of food. She watched as you stared blankly at the untouched meal. Tears streamed down your cheeks, an endless waterfall that had begun with the dawn.

“Please, eat something,” she urged softly, but you could only shake your head, the words lodged in your throat like a stone.

“Why? Can’t he just accept the bond, Shina? Why?” Your voice cracked. Frustration bubbled within you, mingling with the heartache that had you feeling hollow.

Shina placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, but you shrugged it off, the gesture feeling too heavy to bear. “Please leave, Shina,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

She hesitated, searching your face for a glimmer of hope, but all she found were shadows of despair. “No matter how much love you give to a bird with broken wings, it won’t ever make it believe it can fly,” she said, her voice quiet yet firm, her eyes filled with empathy. “And even if it did, isn’t it just death, Luna?”

Her words wrapped around you like a cold shroud, leaving you confused and raw. You opened your mouth to respond, but the weight of her statement silenced you. She rose slowly, the sadness in her eyes mirrored by the heaviness in the air, before she turned and walked away, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You stared at the food plate, your heart aching with the reality of it all. The room felt suffocating, the walls closing in as you fought to suppress the next wave of tears. Each breath felt like a struggle, the silence around you amplifying the sorrow that threatened to drown you.

Okay, so first of all, if you’ve made it this far, wow, congrats on surviving whatever mess I just threw your way. I mean, let's be honest, this is probably one of the most questionable things you've ever had the misfortune of reading. And for that, I truly, sincerely apologize—well, kinda.

But hey, if you're sitting there thinking, "Wow, this is absolute garbage," you're not alone. I get it. I hated it too. So, feel free to tell me just how much you despised every single word of it. I mean, go on, rip it apart. I'm mentally prepared...sort of. Probably. Okay, not really. But let's pretend I am, and we can bond over how truly awful this was. Thanks for sticking around, though. You're a champ.

Taglist @freyaniobe @piercidh34rts @furioustrashlover @lola75111 @pitchblack0309 @whoa-jo @teeheewhy13 @gojoscumslut @emanyd @sassy-snassy @jksusawife @nnnnmmmuuiu @jiminismine4ever @runariya @btspurplesky

[muletia]

[tfp] obsessed!optimus prime x human!reader

summary: you had to go on a business trip. optimus doesn't take it too well

cw: obsessed!optimus, hardcore pinning, angst, i wanted to practice writing dialogues and it shows lmao

word count: 1800

an: i want you guys to know that i am reading EVERY reblog and comment from you swirling my hair and kicking my legs like a schoolgirl

you are so real for that anon

When you, out of your own free will, expressed the desire to join him on patrol, Optimus was overjoyed. You rarely got the chance to be together, just the two of you, always consumed by work or saving the world. And although Optimus wouldn’t dare ask you outright to accompany him on patrols (because the last thing he wanted was to make you feel uncomfortable), he deeply longed to spend more time with you alone. He knew he was feeding only his own illusions, fueling the machinery of madness, but by this point, he couldn’t stop. Not when you sat comfortably on his seat, gazing at the views outside the window, visibly content with your outing together.

He wanted so badly for this to be your everyday reality. Maybe then he could finally find some relief from his fixation, maybe you would even save him.

"Hey," you started, and his entire attention focused on you. "Actually, I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a while."

Oh.

Did your feelings match his? Did you feel affection for him as well? Had you noticed his suffering? Or maybe you wanted to reject him, once and for all, to make him understand that his passion was an illusion, that no matter how much he wanted it, the two of you could never be together — too incompatible, too different. That he had developed this coping mechanism, exhausted by the war.

But before Optimus could spiral further, you crushed his hopes.

"The company I work for is sending me on a business trip," you sighed, clearly dissatisfied with the news. "It’s supposed to take two weeks, but you never really know with these trips, especially since they’re sending me across the continent."

"I understand," he replied, his tone not betraying the turmoil within. "What does this business trip involve?"

"Oh, shoot, sorry! I should have explained that right away," you laughed casually as if you hadn’t just delivered news that shattered his spark. "Business trip is assigned by an employer for training sessions, conferences, exhibitions, and other boring stuff. Kind of like a mission, but without explosions, action, or danger."

It was good to hear that you’d be safe, though you would truly be safest only at the base, under his watchful optics.

Pessimistic, ugly thoughts churned in his processor. Of all the things he expected to hear from you, this wasn’t one of them. Suddenly, he feared being alone, feared his own dreams. Because he knew you wouldn’t be there to comfort him after a nightmare, and nothing else could bring him peace.

"I am sorry to hear we will not see each other for two weeks," he said, "but I am confident you will do exceptionally well on this assignment. You are dependable, unyielding. You can handle anything."

"Oh, thank you," you answered, a bit flustered. You hadn’t expected a compliment. "It just makes me sad to leave Jasper. I don’t say it often enough, but I have a wonderful time with all of you. With you."

"Likewise, [Name]. When are you leaving?"

"The day after tomorrow. Tomorrow after work, I’ll say goodbye to everyone else."

So soon. Too soon. He’d hoped you wouldn’t leave until next week, to at least give him time to mentally prepare for the separation, but you denied him that luxury. Not that any amount of time would have prepared him for this.

Slowly, subtly enough that you wouldn’t notice the change, he reduced his speed, prolonging your shared drive.

"I’m not sure I’ll have time to write," you warned. "Unfortunately, they’ve given me a really tight schedule. But! If I can, I’ll write to the kids. Oh, and expect some souvenirs — I’ll bring something back for you all."

"You do not need to spend your valuable time searching for trinkets. But if you insist, I will cherish anything you bring me."

"Aw, don’t worry—it’ll be no trouble." You waved your hand dismissively. "You do so much for me, for the kids, for the whole Earth without asking for anything in return. You deserve something nice."

"I do not protect your planet for glory or offerings."

"I know, I know. That’s very noble. And amazing. So many years, sticking firmly to your values."

He eagerly soaked up your praise, allowing himself, if only for a brief moment, to forget the world around him, to forget his duties, unfulfilled promises, fallen brothers and sisters. He’d never describe himself as 'amazing', nor did he believe the praise his own kind gave him about his greatness. But for you, he could believe it. If only for a moment, a few seconds, so that you’d leave on your mission thinking warmly of your time together and of him.

"Thank you, [Name]. Please know that I value your words tremendously."

"Oh," you blushed, "that’s nice to hear."

Embarrassed, you quickly changed the subject, unaware that Optimus was watching you closely, curious about your reaction. For now, he pushed thoughts of your departure to the back of his processor, wanting to fully enjoy your presence. You recommended songs from the country genre, one of his favorite discoveries on Earth, which he promised to listen to later. He knew well that this would lead to more daydreaming, imagining a future that would never be. Because no matter how hard he tried, his tomorrow would not be entwined with yours. His desires would forever remain mere fantasies born out of desperation, longing, and sorrow.

A week had passed since you left. In the lives of the Autobots, not much had changed because of your absence; they went on with their chaotic schedule. The kids, however, missed you. No more evenings spent helping them with their homework, working on your reports, playing games, or simply chatting. The worst part was that no one really knew what was going on with you. You rarely messaged, didn’t have time to talk, and when you did, it was just to say, "I’m alive, it’s boring, I’ll message you on Thursday." Life continued, despite how much Miko wished she could play games with you instead of doing her homework.

Everyone managed to adapt to your absence.

With one exception.

At first glance, it seemed like Optimus, the bot with whom you shared the closest bond, hadn’t been affected by such a drastic change. Nothing in his behavior indicated any longing. He didn’t express his opinion on the matter, didn’t ask, didn’t demand. As always, he buried his feelings deep within, playing the role of a diligent leader, hiding from everyone the nightmares running through his processor, now even more intense because of your absence.

He was withering, quietly and alone.

Until now, he had been content simply watching you. He had established a routine, unhealthy as it was, that kept him going. He knew that most of the time when he returned from patrol or a mission, you would be at the base. Even if you came every other or every third day, Optimus knew that eventually, you would show up. It gave him a sense of stability amidst the chaos surrounding him. But now? Maybe two weeks wasn’t a big challenge for you, but he was done after one.

Now, he wanted to be more than a passive observer. He craved physical contact, to hold you close, to feel your heartbeat against his metal. He wanted to know you were alive, to feel your pulse under his digit, to listen to its rhythm, to understand how your chest moved against his metal. He wanted to feel, taste, touch, enter.

He kept glancing at the spot on the couch where you usually sat with your laptop on your lap or spent time with the kids as if hoping that if he looked just one more time, you would materialize there. That everything would return to normal, that he wouldn’t suffer so much, that you would give him the daily dose of antidote he needed to function without plunging deeper into despair. But no matter how many times he looked, you weren’t there, and wouldn’t be for another week.

At some point, however, someone noticed their leader’s miserable mood.

"I can’t quite figure out what kind of bond you have with that woman," Ratchet said, pausing his work to look at Optimus. Before his friend could answer, he continued, "But she’ll be back soon. And whatever she’s doing, she’ll do it well. She’s tough."

"Thank you, old friend. I have no doubt in her abilities. But I would feel better if she were stationed closer to the base in case of a Decepticon attack."

"Mm-hmm," the medic scoffed. "Sure, that’s all it’s about."

Optimus had no response to that. He wasn’t surprised that Ratchet noticed his infatuation, but he would prefer that his friend not delve into the details of their relationship. At least, not yet. Not while Optimus himself was a wreck.

"Hey, hey! [Name] messaged!" Miko yelled.

The Autobot leader immediately approached the platform, finally abandoning his conversation with Ratchet, aware that it would only spark more suspicions. But he didn’t care anymore, not in such an important moment.

He stood directly behind Miko, with Bumblebee and Bulkhead beside him, equally curious to know what you had been up to over the past week.

"She sent photos, too! Look!"

Miko turned to show the messages to the others but paused when she noticed Optimus’s helm close to her.

“Whoa,” she whispered, surprised that out of all the bots, he was the one standing the closest. She swallowed, but her confidence quickly returned.

Holding her phone firmly, she displayed a close-up selfie of you. You were smiling, though the bags under your eyes betrayed that you were sleep-deprived, probably exhausted.

Optimus felt the accumulated stress, pain, and longing of the past week slowly dissipate. Everything was fine with you. You were alive, pushing forward with a smile on your face, happy to simply exist. Admiring your photo didn’t compare to seeing you in person, but it let him vent a little easier, granting him a brief respite from worry, gnawing at him from within. It was enough. For now. For a moment.

“She sends her regards to everyone,” Miko went on, “Oh, and she also asked Ratchet to take a break and mentioned she already bought a gift for Optimus and can’t wait to come back. Hey, I want a present, too!”

Optimus couldn't be certain if another week apart wouldn’t inflict even more damage on his processor and spark, or if longing would eventually consume him entirely. But he knew he was already lost, that you held sway over every aspect of his life. He was wrapped around your finger, tethered by a leash you didn’t even realize existed. And he didn’t mind one bit.

[leclercsainzz]

BEGGING for a charles leclerc x reader smau based on “some one like you” please 🙏🏼 where he’s married to someone else after reader and him broke up .. you can make it however you want:)

WISTFUL YEARNING

PARINGS: charles leclerc x ex gf!reader

TYPE: social media au

part 1 - part 2

charles_leclerc

liked by carlossainz55, yourusername and 720,038 others

charles_leclerc: dreams do come true, i love you, my love 💘

view 6,736 comments

user: OMG OMG

user: “dreams do come true” 😭

user: he’s officially married, guys

carlossainz55: congratulations, mate 🍾

user: YN LIKED OMG 😭😭

pierregasly: congrats, bro! wishing you the best ❤️

user: congratulations 🥰

user: *liked by yourusername* 😢

↳ user: my heart SHATTERED, OMGGGG 💔

user: i just want to know how yn feels

user: can ya’ll move on from charles and yn?!?

user: CONGRATS, CHARLES!! ❤️

user: yn 😭😭

joris__trouche: ❤️❤️❤️

user: he finally got what he wanted, omg 🥺

user: congratulations 🥳

user: i was doing fine until i saw that yn liked this post

user: im happy for him!!

landonorris: congrats, mate

user: HE’S OFFICIALLY MARRIED YA’LL 😩😩

user: idk why i was waiting to see a comment by yn

sebastianvettel: wishing you a lifetime of love and happiness

↳ charles_leclerc: thank you, sebs! 😊

lance_stroll: congratulations!

user: can’t believe so much time has passed since yn:(

user: i know all the drivers were invited but i NEED pictures

user: guess i won’t be mrs leclerc anytime soon 😩

danielricciardo: wishing you both lots of love ❤️

lewishamilton: congratulations

user: i wonder how yn must be feeling 🥺🥺

user: was hoping him and yn would get their happily ever after

user: i wonder if he calls his wife “mon cœur” or “mon ange”

↳ user: i doubt he calls his wife that considering those belong to yn but who knows

↳ user: maybe “my heart” but not “my angel” or idk

↳ user: ya’ll think she calls him “charlie” ?? the way yn did??

user: guess yn is never getting him back 😭

user: congratulations, charles! sending lots of love 💗

imessage

yourusername

liked by francisca.cgomes, lorenzotl and 610,840 others

yourusername: — la vie est belle <3

see translation: life is beautiful

view 4,810 comments

user: SHE’s HangING WITH KIKA 💗

user: babes, did you get the apartment you always wanted?!?

↳ user: wait— the one her and charles always wanted right?!?

↳ user: with the view, yes! it seems like it in the third post

pierregasly: hey! that’s MY girlfriend

↳ yourusername: OUR* get it right 🙄

francisca.cgomes: tú es belle 😘

see translation: you’re beautiful

user: “life is beautiful” LIES ik deep down you missing charles

user: i miss you and charles 😭😭😭😭

user: i really thought you and charles would’ve been endgame 😭

user: charles is married but not to yn 😭😭😭

danielricciardo: oui

see translation: yes

leclerc_pascale: belle comme toujours 😍

see translation: beautiful as always

↳ yourusername: ❤️❤️❤️

↳ user: mama leclerc 😭

user: how do you feel about charles’ marriage??

user: crazy to think how charles is married while yn’s not

user: i really thought you and charles would’ve been endgame

user: charles’ got a whole wife, bro 😔😔 and it ain’t you

user: charles got his dream but yn???? 😭😭😭😭

user: she got her apartment with the eiffel tower view

↳ user: but without charles 😢😢

user: times flies fast … it feels like her and charles were still together:((

user: wonder if she congratulated charles

↳ user: she definitely didn’t 🤣 why would she??

user: charles was suppose to be her love forever 😭😭

↳ user: well as they say, “sometimes it last in love, but sometimes it hurts instead”

user: her and charles were supposed to live in france together

user: ya’ll seriously need to move on from those two, he’s a married man ….

charles_leclerc

liked by sebastianvettel, arthur_leclerc and 772,046 others

charles_leclerc: surprise!

view 5,940 comments

user: i just know yn feeling SICK right now

user: he got married, he’s gonna become a dad, now he just needs that ferrari championship (FERRARI GIVE IT TO HIM)

carlossainz55: you’re both going to make amazing parents! congratulations on your new baby!!! ❤️

↳ charles_leclerc: thank you, carlos!

user: he’S GONNA BE A DAD 😭😭😭

user: we’re getting a mini leclerc 🥺

lewishamilton: congratulations 😊

↳ charles_leclerc: thanks, mate!

user: he’s achieving his dreams

↳ user: without yn 😭😭😭

user: ya’ll gotta stop with the whole charles/yn relationship, they BROKE UP! i don’t think his wife appreciates you all bringing yn up every chance you get

user: can’t wait!!!!!

sebastianvettel: congratulations on your new adventure

↳ charles_leclerc: 😊😊

leclerc_pascale: ❤️❤️❤️

user: we’re all happy for you, charles 😌💗

alex_albon: congrats!! 🥳

↳ charles_leclerc: thanks, alex

user: i’d be crawling back into his life, if i were yn

lorenzotl: ❤️

user: he’s getting his mini leclerc 🥺🥺

maxverstappen1: favorite uncle max is gonna spoil her/him

↳ charles_leclerc: favorite uncle?!!?? absolutely not

joris__trouche: at your service 🫡

arthur_leclerc: ❤️❤️

user: he finally accomplished his dreams

user: this could’ve been yn’s life 😩😩

yourusername: congratulations, charlie!

↳ user: MOM, OMG 😭😭

↳ user: ik she’s lowkey crying about this

↳ user: “charlie”

↳ user: i want them back together, idc 😭😭😭😭

pierregasly: congrats ❤️

user: he’s living his dreams

user: yn 💔💔💔💔

user: mom’s comment 😢

user: i’d be feeling sick to my stomach, if i were yn

imessage

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly and 649,083 others

yourusername: bonjour

see translation: hello

tagged: @yourbrother

view 4,081 comments

user: when she listens to lana del rey >>>

user: LA LA LAND, OMG 😭😭😭 PAIN

pierregasly: yourbrother & toby >>> you

user: charles liked!!! OMG

user: she’s watching la la land!

user: i didn’t realize the 5th slide was @yourbrother

leclerc_pascale: ma belle fille 😘

see translation: my beautiful girl

↳ yourusername: je t’aime ❤️

↳ user: “my beautiful girl” i cant 😭😭😭

↳ user: pascale LOVES yn so much even after all these years

francisca.cgomes: 😍😍😍😍 my wife

lorenzotl: avez-vous oublié monaco? 😔

see translation: did you forget monaco?

↳ yourusername: jasmais ça

see translation: never that

↳ arthur_leclerc: 👍🏼

user: the way charles family still interacts with hers 😭😭

↳ user: i miss them 😔

user: third slide is lowkey for charles

↳ user: girl, MOVE ON! he’s married, get over them

user: ARE WE JUST GONNA IGNORE THAT CHARLES LIKED

user: i miss yncharles 💔💔💔💔

kellypiquet: 😍😍

danielricciardo: bonjour

yourbrother: mon chein est meilleur que toi

see translation: my dog is better than you

↳ yourusername: toby m’aime mieux que toi

see translation: toby likes me better than you

charles_leclerc: toby est tellement grand 🥺 @yourbrother

see translation: toby is so grown

user: missing mom and dad 😭😭

user: i know charles is married but i can’t help myself thinking about him and yn all the times:(

user: he commented

user: she’s the one that got away 😔

↳ user: what should’ve, could’ve, and would’ve been

[kirschteinoir]

twelve minutes.

zayne (love&deepspace) x reader.

❝ seeing both of your eyes at the same time shouldn't be this attractive... ❞

zayne is uncharacteristically late and you're not pleased, but the reason why definitely makes up for it.

wc; 1.8k

[zayne forehead zayne forehead zayne forehead...inspired by this gorgeous art by sesamefruit on twt / X!!! i haven't stopped thinking about it since i saw it like UGH HE LOOKS SO SCRUMPTIOUS!!! implied suggestive stuff towards the end bc i couldn't help myself so 17+ please! ]

he was late.

zayne was never late. in fact a small but prominent part of his personality was that he was always on time - something he was so fond of reminding you about every time you happened to arrive a minute or two after him to your scheduled date. you sort of understood him though; his job was a harsh reminder that time waits for no one, especially a cardiac surgeon hours into a surgery with a life on the line.

your eyes dart to the giant clock ticking warily above you in the ballroom, its ornate hands and roman numerals mocking you as you stood in the corner with half a glass of champagne in your hand.

it had occurred to you to perhaps text him, although you pulled a face at the thought of being too clingy or rushing him. you trusted zayne and you knew he wouldn't be late without a good reason - you just hoped that he knew what he was doing by showing up almost fifteen minutes after your agreed meet time.

tonight was a charity gala, or something like that, hosted by akso hospital to raise funds for various wards, ones you hadn't even heard of before. the bulk of the guestlist included important patrons of the hospital who most likely had relatives in akso’s care, all of the most significant hospital staff and whoever they brought as a plus one - which is the category you and zayne fall into, respectively.

despite being a guest on zayne’s behalf, the two of you had arrived in separate cars. this was not something you had initially agreed to as the image of showing up on zayne’s arm with both of you dressed to the nines had been all too alluring and a small, smug part of you had wanted to show him off to everyone in attendance. but as always, zayne's work had shattered your grandiose dream and thus he couldn't make it on time to pick you up; he'd paid for your taxi to the venue though, and tracked your location on an app to make sure you arrived safely.

apart from a sending you a happy snowman emote at your arrival to the gala's location, he hadn’t given you any indication of when he would show up. you think back to his text from earlier this afternoon, scrunching your nose slightly as you recall how he'd said that he would definitely be there in time for dessert - his attempt at humour, you supposed.

so here you are, waiting nervously amongst the growing crowd with a watchful eye on the entrance. many of zayne’s colleagues had already arrived and greeted you with a sympathetic look as they knew all too well how busy the schedule of the cardiac surgeon could be. you took their pitiful gazes in your stride, assuring them with an easy-going laugh that he would be here soon. you hoped you sounded more convinced than you felt as an ugly apprehension gnawed at your stomach at the thought of zayne standing you up tonight.

oh well, at least you looked good.

throwing caution to the wind you swallow the last of your champagne with a slight pained expression and discreetly whip out your phone. your fingers find his contact reflexively and are about to hit the 'call' button when suddenly a hushed whisper sweeps through the room like a blizzard and your curiosity is piqued for a moment. the only thing that stops you from going through with the call is the sound of zayne's name rippling through the crowd and then the placid lilt of his voice that you knew so well.

zayne was finally here!

_

an hour or so ago, zayne had been stood in front of his bathroom mirror, his usually composed visage marred by a troubled expression. remnants of his steamy shower clouds the glass and his deep sigh adds to the frostiness as he continues to stare at himself in discontent.

he was already dressed for the evening, his shirt sleeves cuffed and tie clipped, but had yet to style his hair. usually, it would be the easiest part of his routine as he doesn't stray much from his signature windswept fringe. something was different today though and maybe out of the sudden urge to surprise you, he itched for something new. he was nervous as he weighed out the potential cons - what if it didn't suit him? what if you didn’t like it? what if he stuck out too much? was a fancy gala really the best time and place to experiment with his appearance?

as much as he was nervous, he was also tired of looking the same every time you saw him. well, except for when he was fresh out the shower and his hair was damp, but it was still relatively similar to his daytime look...

zayne looks at the short video tutorial on his phone again, replaying it a second time for good measure. the tub of gel was as daunting as his surgical scalpels as he carefully unscrewed the lid. he pauses the video on a particular shot of the final styled product, tentative fingers dipping into the cool gel.

he ended up leaving the house twelve whole minutes later than he had expected and his slight rushing had caused a few strands to break free from their gelled confines already - he thought it would at least hold until the first course of the evening. he was late enough as it was and didn't want to push it by continuing to style it in his parked car, knowing that you were probably growing restless as you waited for him inside.

_

you peer through the crowd that seems to have coagulated at the entrance of the grand hall, wishing you were just that bit taller so you could catch zayne’s eye and let him know where you were.

“excuse me,” you mumble to no one in particular as you push through, side-stepping and shimmying your way to your date. a few of them grumble at your forcefulness and you mentally apologise, only thinking of zayne at the moment.

“has anyone seen- ah, never mind.”

you hear zayne approach before you see him, the timbre of his voice suddenly swirling in a comforting embrace around your ears.

the first thing you're met with is his expensive suit, the woven navy fibres filling your field of vision. you stumble back a little, afraid of bumping into him, and take in his appearance properly. he was wearing a classic three-piece, navy with a black waistcoat, and you remember that you picked it out for him on your last shopping date. at the time he had seemed indifferent to your choices, but your cheeks suddenly feel warm as you realise right there and then how much zayne really likes you.

“zayne, there you are! i-“ you begin, looking up at him with a smile.

expecting to see pear green eyes hidden by a gauze of black fringe, you're shocked when instead those same eyes are crystalline and unobstructed as they regard you with an amused expression, perfectly poised underneath an arched black eyebrow.

the soft skin of his forehead, which you had often traversed with your fingertips on countless sleepy nights, was now exposed to the warm glow of the ballroom. his fringe, which so often tickled your cheek as he burrowed into the crook of your neck, exhausted after an overnight surgery, was gelled neatly back. some rogue strands still burst forward, daring to defy zayne's signature put-togetherness, but even they looked purposefully rogue and elegantly styled to suit his new look.

you could do nothing more than gape at him dumbly as he became increasingly concerned at your lack of response. he'd been fraught with worry about your reaction to his tardiness, expecting to get chewed out for being so ungentlemanly as to leave you standing alone in a room full of his colleagues that you hardly knew. but he surmises quickly that it was all worth it as he takes in your dumbfounded expression; he has to hold back a chuckle at the way you not so subtly check him out. however you aren’t the only one who’s doing so in the room, and he softly clears his throat to bring you away from your thoughts for a moment.

“here i am,” he says smoothly, taking another step forward. he offers his arm to you, his ears tinting that pretty shade of crimson that you loved so much as he finally cracks under the scrutiny of everyone else in the room.

“let’s find some privacy, my dear.”

dazed, you just nod as zayne leads you away from the crowd. it disperses soon after anyway, although everyone is now whispering about that cardiac surgeon and zayne's popularity seems to grow just that little bit more.

he takes the two of you to a more secluded part of the room, exhaling softly when you're finally by yourselves. he's almost disappointed by your silence at his new look and he no longer has his fringe to hide behind as his eyebrows knit together slightly.

“you haven’t spoken a word since you saw me,” he comments, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your cheek. he almost gasps in shock as your hand stops his, gripping his wrist gently. “what’s wro-“

his voice trails off as he notices the change in your expression, one he recognises all too well from the privacy of your bedroom. his own ears colour more and he peers down at you in confusion.

“seeing both of your eyes at the same time shouldn’t be this attractive,” you finally murmur, unable to stop staring at zayne.

he clears his throat again at your words, looking around you briefly to make sure no one was listening in.

“i take it you’re fond of my new look?” he asks, hopeful undertones betraying his casual question.

he was so cute, you wanted to squeeze him.

you smile, a mischievous glint in your eye as you suddenly grab him by the tie with your other hand, tugging his face down to hover inches in front of yours. his eyes widen almost comically, his vulnerable expression fully exposed to your devilish eyes.

“i can show you exactly how fond, my love. it doesn't hurt to have dessert first tonight, right?”

as a bashful zayne crowds your giddy self into the empty bathroom stall and locks the door behind him with unusually shaky hands, he thanks astra for those extra twelve minutes he spent in front of the bathroom mirror today.

about me. 

[yandere-wishes]

⭒ㅤׂ ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ, ɪᴛ'ꜱ ʀᴜɪɴɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ʟɪꜰᴇㅤׂ ⭒

⭒⌒★ Yandere!Dune Men x Reader ★⌒⭒

゜。♡ 𝒲𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓏𝑒 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒴𝑜𝓊 ♡ ｡ ゜  

☾⋆ Paul Muad'Dib Atreides | پل معادب آتریدس

He dreamed of you again tonight. Something cathartic laying across the sands. Your touch haunts his skin, tracing scars and stars across his cheeks. He wonders what you see him as, something sacred or something exotic. Neither matters so long as you love him...

Paul's a volatile star, always one breath away from exploding. You're scared to touch the golden boy, lest your fingers return burned and your skull rattles with the echo of the cosmos. Still, it's hard to miss the devotion when his lips grace your knuckles. Hard to miss the cacophony of his heart as it reverberates across the desert. 

ᯓ★ Leto Atreides | لتو آتریدس

Leto kisses butterflies into your shoulder, the taste of your skin feels like nectar on his tongue. His mind is always racing vying for your affection, your attention, your adherence. He traces your name across his star maps, each letter scribbled in a melancholy blue. You grace his chambers again tonight, it feels so wrong to only see your silhouette, to not feel your love bleeding like his does. He kisses you again, something akin to devotion. He needs to feel you under him again, needs to feel the softness of your flesh under his fingers. Something in him shatters, something inside him rearranges. You make him feel so erratic. Why must he love you this way?

𓆩⚝𓆪 Duncan Idaho | دانکن آیداهو

his lips taste of chaos, he pours his passion into you. 

He feels you rattle inside his bones. Feels you coursing through his veins like unaltered spice. He's on another mission, laying in the sand and daubing your essence into constellations. He dreams of your fingers running over his muscles pushing adoration into him with a rusted kitchen knife. Your eyes never gaze at him for long. And yet each stare holds the weight of a nebula. He falls asleep to the phantom melody of your sweet voice. Dreaming of returning to you once more. 

༺🕸༻ Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen | فید روتا هارکونن

There's a blade in his hand, blood marring pale fingers again. In every droplet, he sees your face. Phantom pains rampage when he hears your name. He dreams of you holding a knife to this chest, breaking the skin, and riving through muscle. Each night your ghost plagues him. Hurting him in all the ways he craves. He dubs you ecstasy, overdosing on everything he wants to do to you. Everything he wants you to do to him. He etches your name upon his bones, dedicating each open wound to you. He's going mad over the notion of you between his sheets, limbs entwined in a bloody mess. His tongue craves the taste of your flesh, starved like the trees on Arakkis. He must have you, he will have you. 

-`𖤓´- Stillgar | ستیلگار

Stillgar's love is a desert tune, the winds rustling through the grains before the breaching of a sandworm. He falls harder and harder with each soulful gaze. He's spent his whole life chasing prophecies that he's forgotten how to wholly love something not written in blood and legend. He prays upon every star, that the maker has written your names together. That maybe some prophecy exists where you are to become his. He watches you sitting across the dunes, watching as the sunset pales compared to you. He whispers prayers beneath his breath, hoping you'll be with him soon. 

݁˖☘︎ Gurney Halleck | گارنی هالک

He stiffens under your touch, under the sonority of your voice. His battered heart rattles in your presence, the air in his lungs freezes and he momentarily forgets that he is a soldier, a protector, a tool carved to fight for the Atreides. He's not meant to love, to crush, he's meant to kill, to teach, to follow. A weapon in every sense of the word. And yet he'd throw the world at your feet for a sliver of your attention. Gurney can't help the flames that grow within him. The raging pyro each night when he catches a rogue glimpse of you through the crack of your door. He wishes to kiss you, to hold you. To make you his in every way he knows he can't. 

[samuelsdean]

You Think I'm Delicious?

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: all your dreams and hopes of getting cuddly with spencer were shattered when he uttered those six words.

“i don’t like your new perfume.”

genre: fluff & crack

word count: 1.9k

author's notes: here's a spencer reid fluff without plot, just crack (i tried so i hope you'll laugh while reading this). anyway, enjoy reading this one!

THE THING ABOUT DR. SPENCER REID IS THAT HE’S A VERY SENSITIVE PERSON. He's very particular about stuff like his dislikes for certain textures and not knowing about something—making him a good researcher by the way, because if he doesn't know something, you'll find him poring through books—and even certain smells aren't an exception. One might think that this is normal with his job because, of course, he does. He has probably smelled dead bodies more than he has smelled fresh flowers. Of course, he hates smells like rotten flesh. Disgusting, honestly. But, what can he do? That is part of his job.

So, when he suddenly tugged you to his side one day to hug you, you were excited for him to take note of your new perfume and love it. No, you were certain he’d love it just as much as you did when you first took a whiff at the store. You just had to buy it because you were sure he’d go crazy over your smell. He’d tuck his face into your neck and shower you with pecks. Because despite what everyone else thinks they know about Spencer having an aversion to touch, he was quite the cuddler when he was in love. And yes, you were the lucky recipient of his comforting hugs 24/7. 

However, all your dreams and hopes of getting cuddly with Spencer were shattered when he uttered those six words.

“I don’t like your new perfume.”

Your jaw dropped as soon as he said that distressing sentence. Meanwhile, Spencer was quick to move away from you and continue what he was doing previously—playing chess by himself. Sometimes, if only you didn’t love your boyfriend and didn’t have to face charges, you would strangle him for a lot of things. One of which was being nonchalant after just dropping a bomb like that. What does he mean by you smell bad? You bought a citrus-scented perfume that hurt your pockets; you’ll have to give up your afternoon snacks at the cafe near the FBI headquarters. So, like any good partner out there, you just had to instigate a little argument over your new perfume.

“Excuse me?”

Your boyfriend looked up at your incredulous tone, merely raising a brow at you as if to ask, “What’s up?” This almost got your eye twitching, but you refrained. Taking a breath, you plastered a sickly sweet smile on your face and clarified your previous question.

“What do you mean you don’t like my new perfume?”

Spencer started reddening at your accusatory tone and shrugged halfheartedly, which made you raise one perfectly formed brow at your boyfriend. Now, you’re curious why your boyfriend blushed at your question.

He may be quite shy, but Spencer wasn’t the best when it came to social cues. He rarely gets embarrassed about something unless you blatantly point it out. You could probably count on one hand the number of times he flushed pink. A funny memory you have of him reddening like a tomato was when the BAU were out interviewing streetwalkers. Despite his social awkwardness, Spencer was propositioned by all the women he talked to. You could still remember the exact look he had on his face when he had to pull his tie away from the woman, who was busy rolling it on her fingers.

God, he’s so precious, you’d keep him in your pocket if you could. But right now, he isn’t your favorite person, and you’d love nothing more than to figure out why he was blushing. You were sure there was something behind all those burning cheeks.

“Spencer,” you slowly enunciated the syllables of his name, making him look at you once again. He tilted his head in question as you sighed dramatically, “Out with it.”

“What?”

“You’re flushed pink. You’re picking at your nails, and your right knee just started bouncing.” You pointed it out, and Spencer tried to remedy every single thing you mentioned. “Baby, for a profiler, you’re not doing great at hiding stuff. Tell me what’s going on.”

He scowled and crossed his arms like a petulant child, definitely wishing you weren’t a profiler, and a damn good one at that, like him. You merely chuckled at his antics and crossed your arms in retaliation. No, you weren’t backing away from this one. You spent money on perfume, hoping your boyfriend would love it. But no, he hated it, and now, you have to know why.

You could hear the ticking of the wall clock—if you focused hard enough—with the way not a single sound could be heard from the both of you waiting for the other to cave—not even a phone call from Garcia telling you that you have a case and, you have to be in the office in fifteen minutes could disrupt your focus right now. You could say the same about your boyfriend right now, who is intently staring at your phones on the table. He was probably hoping a work call would come through to save his ass from getting interrogated by you. It’s kind of sick that one would want to hear a new body was found, but at least you’d be out there catching another bad guy and locking them up, never to see the light of day until their last breath. He would rather have a face-off with a murderer than his girlfriend, whom he’s pretty sure is close to resorting to violence for borderline calling her stinky—not really, you’re just dramatic like that.

“Well, for starters, I think it’s strong like I’m drowning in it,” Spencer emphasized the word strong, making your brows furrow. He didn’t have that problem with your previous perfume, and it was stronger—he’s hiding something. You stared pointedly at your boyfriend now, who was fidgeting like crazy under your scrutiny.

“Are you sure that’s it? You didn’t have that problem with my previous perfume, which I’m pretty sure is much stronger than this one.” You clarified, tilting your head to the side as you explained further. “Garcia loved the smell of flowers, but she told me she sneezed every time I passed by. She had to ask me to change the scents immediately. And despite the complaints, you loved it so much that you would tuck your face into my neck.”

At this point, Spencer looked like he was about to burst from an aneurysm with how red he had gotten. You couldn’t help but feel a little bit sorry, but you also had to make him suffer. 

“Tell me, Spencer. Or else, I might just have to resort to other tactics.” You almost cackled at the way your boyfriend looked like he’d rather start digging a hole for him to bury himself in. “And you know, I’m a great profiler. I always get what I want.”

However, as soon as you said those words, you noticed Spencer’s eyes drifting towards a half-full bottle sitting on his little desk filled with heaps of paperwork.

Oh. That’s the problem.

“Baby, I think I know what the problem is here.”

Spencer quickly leaped off your couch to avoid getting teased by you—which wasn’t your plan at all, by the way—and was about to run into your bedroom, but you were quick on your feet and were able to catch his arm and pull him towards you. Yep, unfortunately for your boyfriend, you were better when it came to physical activities.

Although you were better at that angle, you still weren’t able to properly estimate the way you pulled him into you because both of you ended up toppling over on your couch. Luckily, it was the couch, because you’re sure Hotch would have your heads served on a platter if both of his agents were injured and there was a sudden case.

You both landed unceremoniously, with Spencer squeaking as he ended up face-first into your chest, and you groaned as you cushioned his fall. Choosing to pause for a moment, you ran your hands through his brown curls as you both tried to catch your breath. Spencer seemed to agree with that idea as he started inhaling your scent, which made you smile a bit.

“You know, it’s not that I hate your perfume because it smells bad.” Spencer started explaining in a hushed tone, “I just liked it better when you smelled like me.”

Your eyes widened at his confession. This was the first time Spencer had ever said something possessive. Despite not being the usual alpha male girls go for, Spencer had enough confidence in himself that you chose him out of all the guys out there you could’ve gone for. At the start of your relationship, you made it clear to him that he was the one you wanted to be with. Not someone as domineering as Hotch or someone as bold as Morgan.

No, you wanted Spencer. 

You wanted to be with Spencer.

So, you were shocked at your boyfriend’s display of possessiveness, but at the same time, you found it cute that he wanted you to smell like him. It wasn’t every day that he wanted to engage in a public display of affection. And just like any other girlfriend out there who enjoyed the attention you got from your boyfriend, you laughed as you tried to pull Spencer’s face towards yours.

“God, you’re so adorable, Dr. Reid,” you exclaimed as you peppered his face with pecks and pinched his cheeks as he tried to dodge, embarrassed after saying he wanted you to use his perfume, “I could eat your face!”

“We don’t want that." Spencer said, "The BAU would lose two of their best agents with me inside your gastrointestinal tract and you in jail for cannibalism.”

You rolled your eyes at him as he blinked at you innocently. Sometimes, you hate his brain. 

“Stop taking things literally!" You exclaimed to your boyfriend, "You know what I’m talking about!”

“I don’t.” Spencer frowned. You could hear the cogs in his brain start working, meaning he was about to spew out some facts. “Actually, our senses of smell and taste are directly related. They both use the same types of receptors, so if you smell something that you think is delicious, this triggers the same area of the brain that activates our salivary glands. Wait, you think I’m delicious?”

You facepalmed yourself. For a guy with an IQ of 187, your boyfriend could be an idiot.

“You’re an idiot.”

“No, I’m not!” Spencer protested and explained some more, “Seeing an object, food, or even a person that is pleasing to the eye can cause people to salivate. Pleasant smells such as your favorite food, your partner’s natural scent, or smelling perfume on your partner can stimulate the production of saliva more than looking at that person. This process can initiate feelings of wanting to eat or bite.”

Despite his protests, you simply clucked and pinched his nose. Wanting to retaliate, Spencer continued spilling his tangents.

“Aha! You like me so much, my smell makes you want to bite me!”

“You know what, Spence?” You asked sweetly at your boyfriend, who was now listening intently to you. He’ll never know what hit him. “I love you so much, but I preferred it when you got embarrassed about wanting me to smell like you.”

By your admission, Spencer started blushing profusely again as he tried to bury his face in your neck.

“Shut up!”

“I love you too, Spence.”

[silverynight]

Eight years and counting

Contains manga spoilers

The first year comes with so much planning and preparation, Katsuki barely has time to keep up with graduation and the agency interview. He's a war hero, he knows it'll be easy for him to get in any agency he wants and even though that'd make his middle school self excited, he's not that kid anymore.

He cares more about Izuku now. No, he only cares about Izuku now.

Katsuki watches closely as the last ember dies and Izuku pretends it doesn't take his last bit of hope with it; he wants Izuku to be more open with him, to tell him how he truly feels about being quirkless again, but Katsuki knows him well enough at this point to expect something like that.

But he also knows his Izuku won't be completely happy with being a UA teacher, no matter how much he loves that school. Izuku is meant to be a hero, like Katsuki. Actually, he's meant to be a hero and fight by Katsuki's side.

And Katsuki is going to make sure that dream comes true.

So he plans; Izuku needs a new suit, one that can emulate OFA to perfection because if Katsuki is going to give anything to Izuku, he's going to make sure it's absolutely perfect.

It takes a while for him to finish the design and as soon as he does, the first step is to show it to All Might. Katsuki knows he used a mecha suit during the final battle so he probably has an idea if Katsuki's design is possible or not.

"For young Midoriya?"

All Might already knows it's for Izuku, but the question is not exactly about that and Katsuki is perfectly aware of it; he can see it in the soft smile of Izuku's mentor, he can see it in the way his blue eyes shine with knowledge.

Katsuki blushes, but he doesn't look away from the former symbol of peace. He's not that middle schooler hot-heated kid anymore. He's done hiding his feelings behind anger and he's not ashamed about what he feels for Izuku. He's pretty sure All Might knows about that, he's probably waiting for a confirmation.

Katsuki nods, blush spreading down his neck.

"It'll take years to make something like that."

"I'm aware."

"And a lot of money," All Might keeps staring into his eyes, and Katsuki suddenly feels like he's being tested, but he doesn't care. He's going to get Izuku his suit no matter what. "A lot."

"I'll work hard. I can pay for it."

All Might smiles fondly at him before putting a hand on his shoulder.

"You should talk to young Midoriya."

Katsuki shakes his head with a fierce determination. He's not going to get Izuku's hopes up only to shatter them when something doesn't work. This is just an idea and he's not sure how long it'll take.

Katsuki will rather stab himself than breaking Izuku's heart.

"I can't do that. Not until it's ready."

"I'm not talking about the suit."

His cheeks are warm again as what All Might is trying to say finally sinks in.

"I will, but not yet."

***

By the second year he's already mailing the designs to All Might's friend in the US and constantly sending texts and visiting Hatsume in her new lab. She's excited about it and happy to start working on it; she's fond of Izuku too and loves challenges so Katsuki knew she'd say yes.

It takes a little bit more to convince Shield, but she agrees after reading Katsuki's long mail, that looks dangerously close to an essay about the amazing things Midoriya Izuku could achieve with it.

Maybe Izuku is right after all; he's kind of a nerd too.

She agrees to the project and assures Katsuki he can send her low amounts of money every month until the suit it's completely done. After a few weeks, both Shield and Hatsume start working together on it.

Then he contacts his former classmates, because All Might told him they'd want to know about it.

Not only they seem really excited about the project, they offer their help and tell Katsuki they'd like to give him a bit of money for the suit too.

He agrees gladly because he knows Izuku will be happy to know everyone participated in the making of the suit. Besides, he knows it's important to let people help when they can and want to.

***

He's not going to lie, the third year is harsh for him.

Between the videocalls with Shield, the visits to Hatsume and the extra hours he has to work to make more money, Katsuki barely has time to hang out with his friends, although it's not like they have much time either.

He stills sees Izuku a few times a week though because he's physically incapable of being away from him for too long. Sometimes Katsuki wonders if he has noticed, and then he remembers he's a nerd who won't recognize unconditional love even if it hit him in the face.

They talk about Izuku's students, about the UA and Katsuki's hero work; he was a bit reluctant to say anything about his job in front of the nerd at first, but he realized that Izuku genuinely gets excited and happy about Katsuki's pro hero journey.

He notices the nerd gets a bit sad sometimes, especially when he mentions their other friends, because they all are professionals now and Katsuki knows Izuku would like to share that kind of feeling with them.

It only makes Katsuki want to work even harder.

And he does, even if he ends up half dead on his couch after a very long shift; he somehow manages to wake up early next morning with Izuku's dream in his mind.

It's enough motivation to keep him going.

However, his body does get tired and it shows sometimes in the way he acts around others; that's probably the reason why he starts snapping at annoying fans and the videos end up on Tiktok and Instagram; his hero name trends for a while, but he honestly doesn't give a fuck. He's still making money and saving people.

Although, even if he doesn't care, he knows others do.

Because of that, Aizawa starts scolding him about his public image and the way it'll affect to his current ranking.

But Katsuki doesn't care about rankings anymore; Izuku is not there to compete against for the number one spot so it's not remotely interesting to make an effort now.

He'll save that for when Izuku becomes a pro hero.

***

By the fourth year, Aizawa decides to play dirty and use Katsuki's only weakness, so he starts showing Izuku the videos of him growling at civilians.

"Kacchan!"

It's ridiculous how Izuku's sad puppy eyes and his worried expression is the only thing he needs to make Katsuki do as he pleases, but Katsuki has been acting that ridiculous since the war ended so it doesn't matter.

It's not like he's gonna stop now.

"Fine! I'll try not to punch them in the face!"

"Did you actually do that?" Izuku finally snaps his head up from the homework he's grading and looks at him with shock, concern and disbelief at the same time.

"Of course not!" He rolls his eyes. "No matter how much I want to sometimes..."

"Kacchan!"

He does behave a bit better after that and Ashido makes fun of him because of it.

Then All Might figures out he's working too much, and also uses Izuku to make Katsuki take a break.

"Are you overworking yourself, Kacchan?"

Again with the sad puppy eyes! He needs to develop a shield against them. Izuku can't keep using them like a weapon all the time.

"I'm fine!"

The nerd is even better at handling him; Izuku nods and smiles before changing the topic to one of his students (he adores them as much as they adore him) and Katsuki visibly relaxes.

Which is a huge mistake.

"When's your next day off, Kacchan?" Izuku casually asks three days later. He smiles sweetly at him and Katsuki wonders for a moment if he actually knows how much power he has over him. "I would like you to stay over at my apartment someday. We can watch a movie and order takeout!"

"You mean like a... sleepover?" he clears his throat, cheeks turning slightly pink. He crosses his arms over his chest as a shield because he doesn't want to think of any of his multiple daydreams about spending a night with Izuku. It's too dangerous.

"Yes!"

It's not fair. Izuku looks so excited he basically has stars in his eyes as he looks up at Katsuki.

The next thing he knows is that he's asking Hawks for a day off and the whole agency starts gossiping about it because he hasn't taken one of those in years.

Only when he's sitting on Izuku's couch, completely relaxed and happy, it occurs to him it was a trap to make him take a break. And even though he knows now, he keeps falling for it every single time.

Because he can't say 'No' to Izuku.

***

Izuku's gauntlets are completely ready five years after Katsuki designed them. They look exactly like the ones he used before, but they have OFA's puch power and release energy threads he can use as he did with Blackwhip.

They're perfect.

Katsuki stares at them for a moment with a stupid, fond smile on his face and he decides to do something sentimental and even more stupid because he's an idiot.

"Can you change mines?" He asks Hatsume after a while. "I want them to look like Izuku's."

"You want them to match your boyfriend's?" She says so casually that Katsuki realizes she's been thinking of Izuku and him as a couple for a long time now. "Sure! He'll probably love that too!"

Katsuki can tell her she's mistaken, but he doesn't. Instead, he thinks about how it'll look when Izuku finally wears his hero suit and stands next to him.

His grin becomes even wider.

Izuku tears up when he sees Katsuki for the first time wearing his new gauntlets; he immediately recognizes the design, even though they're a different color.

He doesn't ask why Katsuki decided to change his gauntlets, he just walks towards him and pulls him into a tight hug.

"It... it doesn't bother you?" He's so drunk in Izuku's scent and physical closeness, his voice shakes a bit. Katsuki hadn't realized how starved he was for Izuku's touch until that moment. "I mean, are you okay with them looking almost like the ones you used to wear?"

The last thing he wants is to make Izuku upset with his own need to feel close to him, even if it's something stupid like making his gauntlets match his.

Izuku shakes his head, smiling up at him.

"I think it's really sweet."

Blushing to the tip of his ears and making Izuku giggle in the process, Katsuki realizes how much he has changed over the past years.

He's a completely different person from who he was in elementary, middle and even the first year of high-school.

The old Bakugo was made of various layers of anger issues and insecurities that were falling off of him as he grew as a person, leaving only Bakugo Kacchan in their place.

He's Izuku's Kacchan now. The version of himself that was born the moment he met little Izuku and wanted to be a pro hero with him; he's always been Izuku's Kacchan.

And he's mature enough to admit and embrace that now.

***

It's the second time, in years, his parents pay him a visit; Katsuki has been avoiding that moment as much as he could, going to their house instead, but his mother probably got suspicious and decided to find out what was going on by herself.

She takes a look around and quirks up a brow at him, even though Katsuki is doing everything in his power to ignore her.

He focuses on his Dad instead, but Masaru has a terrible poker face so Katsuki can tell he's noticed his son lives exactly the way he did when he started working as a pro hero.

"You haven't redecorated the place yet, huh?" he offers kindly, prompting Katsuki to roll his eyes.

He's aware of what's coming. It doesn't matter how much his Dad tries to dismiss the subject because he knows his son doesn't want to talk about it.

But Bakugo Mitsuki doesn't like that type of approach.

"Why do you still live in this crappy ass apartment?" There it goes. His mother crosses both arms over her chest and Katsuki knows she will not leave until he gives her a good explanation. "I thought you made good money! It's been years, brat! Don't tell me you somehow got attached to this place?"

Katsuki pinches the bridge of his nose, takes a deep breath, sits both his parents on the couch and offers them tea as he start explaining everything to them.

By the time he's done he looks up only to find them staring back at him with a very proud smile on both their faces.

Masaru hugs him before his mother starts ruffling his hair in a way she hasn't done since Katsuki was in elementary.

"He's going to love it," his father assures him; a little bit of the weight Katsuki has been carrying over his shoulders vanishes because even though he knows Izuku, part of him was sightly afraid he wouldn't like it.

They spend the rest of the afternoon looking at Katsuki's first designs as he tells them in detail how each piece is going to work.

"We've been testing them for a while and they work quite well," he says with a satisfied smile.

"What about the measurements?" Mitsuki asks then. "If you want to keep this a secret from him, how do you plan to make this fit to his body type?"

"I know Izuku's measurements," he says with a confident smirk that quickly vanishes as soon as he watches his parents exchanging a look. "Not like that! I've know him my whole life! I know him better than anyone!"

There's an uncomfortable silence before Mitsuki shakes her head with an amused grin on her face.

"You know an engagement ring would have been way cheaper than this, right?"

"Shut up!"

***

The UA students know him quite well now, especially Izuku's students. Uraraka and Todoroki help Izuku too every now and then, but Katsuki is the only one who's always available when Izuku calls.

And no, not all the students are fond of him, especially because he plays the villain quite often and he easily defeats them in the blink of an eye.

"Don't be too hard on them, Kacchan!"

"How will they learn what a real battle looks like if I'm not, Izuku?"

After a while, Katsuki hears a couple of students calling him Midoriya-sensei's boyfriend and he doesn't correct any of them.

Then the rumor reaches social media and Katsuki doesn't bother to deny it during interviews either; he only says he doesn't like to talk about his private life, which only makes everyone think it's true.

He's being selfish and he knows it, but he doesn't care at all.

However, Izuku apparently does because he corrects his students when they call them a couple, and even though he's telling nothing but the truth, it hurts Katsuki a bit.

"What is it, Kacchan?" Izuku notices immediately of course, and looks back at him with concern. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he manages to smile, reminding himself that Izuku's suit is almost done and they'll be hero partners soon.

It's all that matters.

"You're an idiot!" Ashido hits him on the back of his head as they have lunch together outside her agency; it's been years since he has actually seen her face to face, and that's the first thing she does? He shouldn't have come. "Why haven't you told him?"

Katsuki huffs, getting slightly irritated.

"We have already discussed this. If the suit is not rea–"

"Not about that!" She rolls her eyes before taking her phone and showing it to him, almost shoving it to his face. "I'm talking about this!"

It's a picture of Katsuki in his hero suit talking to Izuku; they're in the UA so one of the students must have taken it.

Katsuki doesn't need her to say anything else for him to understand what she's talking about; it's written all over his face, in the fondness of smile and the glimmer in his eyes.

He's sure out of all the pictures of pro hero Dynamight on the internet, that's the only one in which he's smiling that softly.

Because it's the only picture of him looking directly at Izuku.

"I will tell him... eventually," he mumbles in a tone that lets Ashido know he doesn't want to talk about it anymore.

Izuku needs to focus on fulfilling his dream first.

***

It's been eight years since Katsuki started this project and now that Izuku's suit is finally done, he has decided that the right person to hand it to Izuku is All Might.

"You should be there too," the man insists, giving him an encouraging smile.

Katsuki shakes his head, looking at the floor; it'd be too overwhelming for him, he's sure he'll tear up if he sees Izuku's face when he gets the suit.

He asks All Might to tell Izuku that everyone funded his suit, that they contributed the same amount to it.

The next day he's back at the agency to keep himself busy; he's about to head to his first patrol of the week when Izuku walks in, wearing his hero suit.

Katsuki chokes, blushes and almost tears up at the same time.

He looks perfect.

"Thank you, Kacchan."

The blinding smile and the happiness in his voice is what ends up undoing him, because what he realizes in that moment is that Izuku hasn't smiled so freely, so sincerely in years and Katsuki is the reason he does now.

He starts tearing up the way he did that day at the hospital, the only difference is that it's happiness what makes him so emotional this time.

Izuku takes a few steps closer and presses their foreheads together.

"Thanks for making my dreams come true."

"It wasn't just me," Katsuki manages to say, but his voice sounds choked. "Everyone-"

"I know you planned it, designed it, got everyone together to work on it and paid the most for it. All Might told me everything."

"The old man can't keep a damned secret now..."

Izuku chuckles and his laughter is music to Katsuki's ears; it's true, he doesn't care how sappy it sounds. Izuku's happy chuckle is the best kind of music to him.

Then, Izuku takes his face in his hands and makes him look down at him.

"I love you too, Kacchan."

Katsuki is sure he's dreaming; it must be getting late, he needs to wake up.

But then Izuku kisses him and the kiss is clumsy and wet, but it's perfect because it's their first and now Katsuki knows it's real.

***

He doesn't need to work extra hours now, which means he has time to help Izuku train to get used to his new suit and the quirks it comes with.

It takes him just two months to accomplish that, and another one to feel ready to apply to Hawks' agency.

"I'm ready to get a hero partner now."

"Really?" Hawks looks at him in disbelief before grinning. "Alright, I have a few suggestions..."

"I want Deku."

Hawks rolls his eyes, but doesn't look surprised in the slightest.

"At least wait for me to hire him first," Hawks continues, staring up at Katsuki with a little bit of irritation. "I just got his application."

"Well, when you do, make him my partner," he's aware that he sounds demanding and although he's not like that anymore, he can't hold back the urgency in his voice because he has waited for that moment for eight years.

"I can't," Hawks says, taking a deep breath, bracing himself for a long discussion. "Even though Deku is a war hero and I'm sure he'll become an excellent pro hero, he has to start at the bottom, like everyone else. However, if I put you with him, you'll have to endure all those boring patrols and easy missions that are given to new heroes in training."

"I know that. Just put me with him. We'll get to the top in no time."

Hawks stares at him and blinks a few times before chuckling.

"Well damn. Guess they weren't rumors after all," he smirks. "Alright. Just invite me to the wedding."

"Will do."

***

Katsuki hears Izuku ramble excitedly about being hero partners and their first patrol together in the comfort of their shared apartment, one that his mother finally approves of, although he has the feeling that she doesn't care that much about the place, but the person her son is living with.

Mitsuki has always loved Izuku.

They have breakfast, Katsuki prepares two bentos for the both of them and they head to the agency, directly to the locker room.

Even though it's not his first patrol, Katsuki notices his heart beating faster as he walks out as Dynamight, right next to Izuku wearing the suit he worked so hard for.

The suit that made their dreams come true.

"Come, Deku," he says, because he can do that now, he can offer his hand to Izuku, knowing he'll take it without hesitation and a blinding smile on his face.

They're partners now, in more ways than one.

It's been eight years to get to this point, but Katsuki know it's just the beginning for the both of them.

***

Patreon

[zaczenemiji]

Hello Dearest Writer! I have read the Shattered Pride that you wrote which I like it! and I hope you don't mind me requesting ^^. I wanted to request for a lil' bit angsty Kenji Sato x Reader, where kenji & reader have a heated argument that leads to reader with tears streaming down her face from kenji's hurtful words and attempted to remove her engagement ring and proposed to end things for the better and kenji got scared and regret everything he said, so he asked for forgiveness, convinced her to stay and makes it up for her. Thank you so much, Writer! I hope you have a nice day!

Second to None

Kenji Sato x Reader

Word Count: 2,076

Genre/Warning: Angst, Character Development, Drama, Established Long-Term Relationship, Heartbreak, hurt/Comfort, Redemption

Author’s Note: My works are becoming longer lately 🤧 Is that a good thing or not?

MASTERLIST | Shattered Pride

The reservation; a special menu and a gift sat neatly wrapped beside your plate. Your eyes dart to the door every few minutes, eagerly yet anxiously anticipating Kenji’s arrival.

The minutes turned into an hour, each second becoming agonizingly longer than the last. Your discomfort became noticeable to those who arrived before and after you.

Some couples came in pairs. Others also waited but the arrival of their beloveds was only half as long as the duration of your waiting.

The waiter approached with a sympathetic smile. “Would you like to order now, miss?” He asked gently.

"Not yet," you replied, forcing a smile. "He should be here any minute." You smoothed down your dress, avoiding any more contact with someone who isn’t Kenji.

“Are you on your way? Our reservation was at 7,” your message long showed as delivered, but still, no reply, and all your calls went straight to voicemail.

Your heart sank as the waiter returned, his expression more apologetic than before, "Shall I bring you a drink while you wait?"

"Yes, please," you answered, trying to mask your growing disappointment. You chose a glass of your favorite wine with Kenji, hoping the familiar taste would bring some comfort.

It was your fifth anniversary together, a milestone you had been looking forward to for weeks. Yet just like last year, it seemed like this would be a missed one too.

The first years of your relationship were pure bliss. The years that followed were less exciting but more comfortable. Yet from last year til today, some things were never the same.

At first, it felt like it was just because both of you had gotten used to each other. But as time progressed, it started seeming like your relationship was just a background—a television turned on not for the sake of watching, but for the sake of not being alone.

It started with last year’s missed anniversary; he said that it was an important out-of-town game that he couldn't skip. "I'm so sorry, the game went into extra innings and I missed the last train back. I'll be home late.”

He went home the next day.

You reminisced your first anniversary, a weekend getaway, a brief escape from your busy lives. The second, you had gone to a cozy little restaurant. The third had been a quiet dinner at home.

The fourth anniversary was marked by absence and loneliness; as this year’s. It wasn't the first time Kenji's baseball career had come between you, but you had hoped that anniversaries would be different.

You started to wonder if you would always come second to his dreams.

Another hour passed and the restaurant began to empty as the night grew older. "Kenji, I'm still here. Please call me." But still, there was no response.

Finally, your phone buzzed, "I'm so sorry, practice ran late and then we had a team meeting. I’ll try to get there as soon as I can."

You stared at the message, a tear slipping down your cheek. You heard similar apologies countless times before, each one chipping away at your patience and hope.

You signaled the waiter and asked for the check. You couldn't sit there any longer and pretend that everything was fine.

You walked out into the cool night, clutching the small gift you had brought for Kenji. The streets were quiet, the city's usual buzz dulled by the lateness of the hour.

You felt a profound loneliness, one that wasn't just about this night but about the accumulation of missed moments and broken promises.

When you finally got home, the flat was dark. You placed the untouched gift on the table and changed into more comfortable clothes.

You were too drained, emotionally, to even wait for Kenji in case he’d come over. You lay down on your bed, more than willing to sleep off the pain you just can’t get used to.

As your consciousness was being tugged to sleep, your phone buzzed again. It was Kenji, calling. And for the first time, you decided to put yourself first and slept.

Morning came and you sat at the dining table, a half-empty glass of wine in front of you. It was far too early to be drinking, but the remnants of last night's disappointment and loneliness still clung to you, and you needed something to numb the ache.

You swirled the wine in your glass, your mind replaying the evening over and over. The beautifully wrapped gift lay discarded on the coffee table.

You immediately slept last night but somehow, you hoped that Kenji would walk through the door with some grand gesture, some sign that he valued your relationship as much as she did. But he never came.

The sound of the key turning in the lock pulled you from your thoughts. Kenji walked in, looking exhausted and worn. His eyes immediately found yours, and he saw the wine glass in your hand.

"You're drinking this early?" he asked, concern laced with surprise. You didn't respond, just took another sip.

The silence was heavy, filled with all the words you wanted to say but didn't know how to begin. You set the glass down and met his gaze.

"Do you even realize what day it was yesterday, Kenji?" you asked, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and hurt.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, "Of course, I do. I'm so sorry. Practice ran late and then there was an unexpected team meeting. I—“

"You always have an excuse,” You cut him off, your voice rising. “Do you know how many times I've heard 'practice ran late' or 'there was a meeting’? I'm tired of it!"

"I know," he said, trying to calm you down. "I really wanted to be here, but you know how important baseball is to me."

"And what about me, Kenji? Am I not important to you?" you snapped, tears welling up in your eyes. "I've sacrificed everything for you! I left my career, my family, my friends, everything to come to Japan and support you! And for what? To be stood up on our anniversary again?"

His face tightened, "It's not like that. You knew what you were getting into when you decided to come with me."

You took a step back, your voice dropping to a whisper. "So, it's my fault now?” You asked. “I chose to support you because I believed in us. But it feels like I'm the only one making sacrifices here."

"That's not fair," he retorted, frustration creeping into his tone. "I work hard for us. I'm trying to build a future for us."

"But at what cost, Kenji?" you shot back. "Every time I need you, you're not there. Every important moment, every milestone, you're always somewhere else. Do you even understand how lonely that is?"

He ran a hand through his hair, struggling to find the right words, "I'm doing my best. It's just... baseball is my dream. I can't give that up."

"And what about my dreams?" you cried, your voice breaking. "I had a career I loved, a life I was proud of! I gave all that up for you, believing that you would be there for me, that we would support each other. But it feels like I'm the only one who gave anything up!”

He took a deep breath, his own anger rising. "I never asked you to give up your career!” He said. “You made that choice!”

Your eyes widened in shock and pain. "I made that choice because I loved you—because I thought we were building a life together,” you said, voice softening and heart breaking. “But it seems like I'm the only one who sees it that way."

There was a long silence as you two stared at each other, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily between you. Slowly, you reached for your engagement ring, your hands shaking.

"What are you doing?" Kenji asked, panic creeping into his voice.

You struggled to remove the ring, tears streaming down your face. "Maybe we're fooling ourselves, Kenji,” you said in between sobs. “Maybe this isn't working. I can't keep feeling like I'm second to your career. Maybe it's better if we end this now."

His heart raced, panic surged through him, and his voice trembled with desperation. "No, please don't," he said, stepping closer, his hands reaching out but hesitating to touch you. "I'm sorry for everything I've said. I didn't mean it. I love you, and I can't lose you."

You looked at him, the ring held loosely in your hand. "Do you really love me, Kenji?” You asked. “Or do you love the idea of me being here, waiting for you, always understanding and never complaining?"

He stepped closer, his eyes pleading. "I love you. I know I've been an idiot, and I know I haven't been there for you like I should. But I promise I'll do better. Just please, don't leave me."

His eyes filled with tears as he dropped to his knees in front of you, the weight of his regret crashing down on him. "I love you," he said, his voice breaking. "I know I've been an idiot, and I know I haven't been there for you like I should. Every time I chose baseball over you, I was wrong. I see that now.”

“Please, don't take off that ring. Don't leave me,” he pleased. “I can't imagine my life without you."

You looked down at him, your own tears blurring your vision, “How can I believe you, Kenji?"

He reached out, taking her hands in his and holding them tightly. "Because I can't bear the thought of losing you,” he said. “I'll do whatever it takes to prove to you that you're the most important thing in my life. I'll talk to my coach, I'll cut back on practice—anything. Just please, give me one more chance."

You hesitated, the pain and love warring within you. His eyes were filled with genuine fear and remorse, and you could feel his hands trembling. "One more chance, Kenji,” you said. “But things have to change. I can't keep feeling like this."

He nodded fervently, pulling you into a tight embrace, his heart pounding with a mix of relief and fear. "I promise, things will change,” he said. “I'll make it up to you, I swear. I love you more than anything. Please, believe me."

The next morning, Kenji came over early and made you breakfast, a small but heartfelt gesture to start making amends. He took the morning off practice and thought of having breakfast together.

Over the next few weeks, Kenji made noticeable changes. He began to prioritize your time together, making sure to balance his demanding baseball schedule with moments that were just for you two.

One evening, as you sat on the couch watching a movie, Kenji turned to you with a serious expression, "I talked to a few people, and I found a way for you to continue your work here in Japan.”

You looked at him, curiosity and hope in your eyes, "What do you mean?"

“There are some production companies interested in meeting with you,” he said. “I want you to have your career back, to have something that's yours."

Tears welled up in your eyes, this time from gratitude and joy. "Kenji, that's... I don't know what to say. Thank you."

He took your hand, squeezing it gently. "I want you to be happy. I want us to build our lives together, supporting each other's dreams,” he said. “I'm sorry it took me so long to realize how much you were sacrificing."

True to his word, Kenji began to make your relationship a priority. He surprised you with small dates, like picnics in the park or quiet dinners at home. He even started learning a bit of Japanese cuisine to cook your favorite meals.

Kenji made it a point to never miss another important moment, attending every event and celebration that mattered to you. He cheered you on as you restarted your career, eager to see you shine.

In the end, you both learned that love required effort and compromise from both sides. It wasn't always easy, but you faced your challenges together, knowing that your love was worth fighting for. And with each passing day, you both found yourselves more deeply in love, more committed to the life you were building together.

Taglist is open! Comment if u wanna be tagged on future Kenji oneshots

@ppiglovestravel-blog @eternallyvenus @puppyminnnie @wattpadsuckssohard @sakura-onesan @reggies-eyeliner @buggs-1 @miffysoo @spencerrxids @stupidbutsmart @marimargirlies @mixvchelle @lannnu @lailuv21 @christiinee @abracarabbit @youngbananamilkshake @flutterfly365 @o-schist @brazilsho @arrozyfrijoles23 @finestflora @mmeerraa @mianbaobaoo @skyeliteratures @themourningfox @despacito-uwu16 @crimson-mage-02 @vinegarjello @btszn @berryjuicyy @https-mika @reader-1290

[merakiui]

thinking,,,,,

skully j. graves whose heart has been pierced by cupid’s arrow. oh, how he adores the dear lady who lives just a few houses from his own, the town’s very own precious jewel. he could spend hours penning the prettiest poetry, every stanza packed full of affectionate adulation. he watches from a snow-frosted window as you, bundled in your woolen cloak, hurry along with a basket hanging from your arm. you are stunning—a painter’s finest work brought to life. so many suitors are vying for your attention—rightfully so—and yet it is your bottomless kindness that has you entertaining them even though you never seem to select a fiancé for yourself. perhaps you are waiting for your fated one just as he is?

but skully could never hope to find his way into your heart, even though his wishes for such bliss are most fervent, for his demeanor is haunted and will certainly sully you. you’re a glorious flower and he is suffocating rot. his love is only pure on the page, but beyond that it is gnarled with the most devastating of dangers. he would kill for you. he would tear his own heart out for you and pin it to the walls just to prove he will never love another. he will stay in your shadow and admire you from afar, for it is darkness in which he dwells.

he loves you in every conceivable way. he dreams of a future with you. he hides away in fantasy, for his reality is excessively gloomy. one day, he might finally approach you and spill the truth in his heart. pluck a bouquet of the prettiest flowers and present it to you. one day, he might finally confess and then you’ll know of his name and his love. and perhaps you might feel the same, too. one day… he is hopeful. one day.

and then you die. suddenly. unexpectedly. it is a cruel lashing to his heart. it is unthinkable. it cannot be and yet it is. your light is snuffed and with it the darkness envelops him in its entirety.

no one grieves quite like mr. graves. oh, his world is shattering, unfurling and splitting at the seams. there is no world worth waking up to knowing you’re not there in the flesh. he stands over your open casket like the grimmest reaper, dressed in mourning black. he takes hold of your cold hand and brings it to his cheek, and oh! how dreadful his cries are, a sniveling, shoulder-shaking sob like that of a child who has lost something once coveted in avarice. how cold and stiff your fingers are. how soft and sterile your skin is. how peaceful you look, clothed in attire that shall follow you into the grave, eyes forever shut. nothing more than a doll.

how beautifully the flowers frame your face, every delicate petal so sickeningly fragrant and pure, white as snow. and he is filthy. filthy for leaning over you and getting his tears on the fabric of your dress. he presses his lips to your perfumed cheek and squeezes your hand, but you will never reciprocate. it’s not fair. why must the world take from him what is most treasured? must he be shackled to a sad, solitary life forever, only to know warmth in death?

it’s not fair. it’s not fair. it’s not fair.

they cannot close that casket, for how will he survive without your cherubic countenance? he yearns to see you again, to breathe you in, to know that even if he may never face you in person you are there in your home, alive and well.

he would sooner leap into the coffin with you than allow them to bury you by your lonesome. he holds tight to the white rose in his hands, soon to inevitably shrivel into something brittle as all life does, and watches them lower you into the hollowed pit.

so this is what it’s like to know emptiness. to have your heart torn to pieces. to have your soul spooned out. to shatter as one and never know fullness again.

skully writes of death. he dreams of death. he thinks of death. his life has become death.

and he thinks of how cold and lonely you must be down there, buried away like a secret. he thinks of your radiance, how it is impossible for you to shine when you will never know the kiss of sunbeams upon your sweet skin. oh, he mourns you and what could have been. he mourns his cowardly nature. he mourns having confined himself to the shadows, for it is in shadows you now reside.

he visits your grave every day, sometimes more than once in a day. he lingers for hours, soaking in all the silence. his eloquence waltzes in written word, for he can never verbalize his thoughts without falling apart. he weeps over the headstone, his forehead pressed into the dirt as he endeavors to get as close to you as possible. he leaves fresh flowers. he kisses every petal and imagines it’s your hand, your face, your heart.

no one grieves like mr. graves because only he is willing to return, shovel in hand, and pull you from the earth that has so selfishly kept you imprisoned. he yanks at the wooden boards of the coffin until his nails chip and break off. until blood runs thin down skeletal fingers.

he lifts you from the soft lining and runs his knuckles along your cheek, so very fond. and he holds you close like you’re a plush toy. you will not remain in this pristine condition forever and, having now been disturbed, you will rot quickly. he has that effect.

but even in decay, you are beautiful. just as you were in life, he shall cherish you in death. he shall do all that he has failed to do when you lived and breathed. he shall share a waltz with you in a quiet ballroom. he shall brush your hair. he shall feed you. he shall clothe you. he shall look after and protect you. he shall write to you and read you dozens of poems. he shall sing to you. he shall kiss you. he shall wed you. he shall consummate a blessed (cursed) marriage with you.

and when he withers away, it will be in your embrace. for no one could ever hope to love another as strongly, as obsessively, as sweetly as mr. graves does. :)