#ive decided to listen to this from the beginning...

[wormsunderstarlight]

Managing my school stress and anxiety by listening to Malevolent while going through caves in minecraft, which is a totally logical thing to do.

[ikeukiss]

BUT DADDY I LOVE HIM | 심재윤

⟢ PAIRING: sim (jake) jaeyun x fem!reader ⟢ WORD COUNT: 10.2K ⟢ GENRE: fluff, angst, smut ⟢ TAGS: badboy!au, innocent!reader, opposites attract, sexual tension, corruption kink, dirty talk, fingering, oral (m + f receiving), 69, pet names (baby, angel, etc.), face sitting, protected sex. ⟢ SYNOPSIS: Just because there's a new and seemingly bad influence in your small town, it doesn't mean you have to fall privy to his charms, no matter how beautiful he is. But when he takes notice of you, none of the gossiping wine moms can stop him from getting what he wants. ➸ shoutout to @kwanisms and @mini-mews for helping this fic come to fruition, ily guys sm and this is genuinely one of my favorite pieces ive ever written aaa.

“Have you heard about the new family who moved into town? The son is a real piece of work!”

“He’s twenty-one but acts like he’s still sixteen on that damn motorcycle. No class or consideration whatsoever!”

“Maybe they’ll keep him in check if they decide to come to church this weekend. You know Reverend Park has no time for miscreants and delinquents.”

The familiar crowd on your mother’s front porch greets you as you’re attempting to exit the house. They cool themselves off with their makeshift fans and drink your mother’s homemade lemonade in the Saturday sun, continuing to harp on the locals in town that they’ve known for years.

Somewhere in their conversation, they drifted to the topic of the new family that moved in across the street. Three days was all it took for them to begin spouting their judgemental observations, every act from the new middle-aged couple and their son fodder for their discussion.

You smile politely with every fiber of your being, despite your instincts to snap at them and be on your merry way. If only they knew how ironic they are, pointing fingers at others from their high horses when the town kept enough space for their dirty little secrets. “Nice to see you this morning, ladies.”

They say your name with grace, their tones all air with little substance. “On your way to bible study?” Mrs. Choi asks, gazing at you from the rim of her glass.

You shake your head. “Just tutoring.”

“With the Nishimura boy? What a sweet kid.” When Riki’s name leaves Mrs. Lee’s lips, all the women hum in agreement. “Such a bright future ahead of him.”

“Of course, as long as he passes English,” you joke. The women’s faces don’t change, not taking your teasing with an ounce of anything but seriousness. The bags under their eyes, lipstick smudged in the tiny corners of their teeth, and piercing attitudes begin to damper your excitement for the day. You bid them goodbye quickly with another smile, walking down the stairs and onto the path down the street.

As you turn down the sidewalk, still hearing the resounding chatter from the women, your thoughts run wild. Is this what life would be like when you were older, doing nothing but kicking your feet up on a neighbor’s porch with only other people’s business to fill your time? Spending endless days and nights at church, listening to the same sermons leave Reverend Park’s lips until you become as overly critical as they all are?

The screech of tires halts your thoughts in their place. “Watch it!” A young man’s voice pierces the morning air, making you step back even further. You hadn’t realized how far you had walked into the road until you were back on the safety of the sidewalk. You trip on a crack between the two slabs of concrete, falling backwards and meeting the ground hard.

“Shit, are you okay?” He takes his helmet off, immediately hooking it to his handlebars to check on you.

Sim Jaeyun.

You had not met him formally until this moment, but the motorcycle and undeniable looks gave away his status as your new neighbor. Your parents had decided to let the new family settle in before trying to visit and introduce themselves. If they could see you now, your maxi skirt hitched up to your knees and the boy barely a foot away from you, they would have had a field day.

Sure, you both are of age. Butlike Mrs. Choi, Mrs. Lee, and other local townsfolk always do, people will talk about such a compromising position if you aren’t careful.

All those thoughts fade away though when Jake kneels beside you, his face flooded with concern. His eyes linger on the broken skin on your legs and then across your flushed face. “Does it hurt?”

You shake your head. “It’s barely a scratch. Sorry I almost ran into you.”

“More like almost ran into my bike.” He laughs, his expression one of relief as well as humor. “I’m just glad you’re in one piece.”

“Thank the lord.” You brush your hands on your skirt and begin to stand up, but Jake grabs you by the hand to help, taking all your weight with him.

“Thank you,” you say, brushing the free hair from your braid out of your face.

“You’re welcome.” He unclips his helmet from the bar and gestures back to his bike. “I can drive you to wherever you’re going if you want. I don’t have a second helmet, but–”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes your lips, the thought of riding on the back of a motorcycle too ridiculous to envision given your status as the deacon’s daughter. What would people say?

Jake just furrows his brows, his lips turning up at the corners. “Is my offer that funny?”

“No,” you say, “I would love to, it’s just–”

“Sim Jaeyun!” The shrill sound of Mrs. Choi’s voice makes you take another step away from Jake, unaware you were as close as you were to him. His presence seems to be magnetic, just like his smile. “Stay away from her or so help me God!”

Jake turns to the old woman down the road and nods his head, trying to be respectful but clearly irritated from her meddling. “Yes ma’am,” he yells, stepping back and getting closer to his bike.

“Maybe another time,” Jake says, “when you’re not flocked by the whining wine moms.”

You laugh and nod. “Maybe.”

Jake rides away on his bike, the wispy ends of his hair your last picture of him before he makes a sharp turn at the end of your street.

“Why do I need to learn this?” Riki groans, laying his head flat against his desk. The church bells ring as he knocks his head in the same rhythm against the polished wood.

“Because you need to be able to interpret text if you want to go off to college, Nishi. Otherwise you’ll be illiterate and an embarrassment to the entire town!” You put on your best harping, disapproving voice. It makes Riki laugh as he lifts his head. You’re glad at least the younger kids appreciate your sense of humor, unlike the older brood flooding your hometown.

“Alright, fine.” He opens his copy of Heart of Darkness, beginning to read the page in front of him. “I avoided a vast artificial hole somebody had been digging on the slope…”

A knock on the classroom door makes you and Riki turn. Yeri opens it with a shy grin, saying your name with the same nature. “Someone’s here to see you!”

“Who?”

“Some cute guy on a motorcycle? But don’t tell Jungwon I said that!” She runs back out the door and leaves you puzzled. Surely it’s not Jake. You just met him; he wouldn’t make the effort to try and follow you to your tutoring session, especially at the church of all places.

You head to the window to see Jake sitting against his bike, looking around at his surroundings. He’s wearing the same leather jacket and gray jeans, his white shirt marked with several spots of sweat. Riki comes up behind you, making a sound of acknowledgement. “Oh, that’s Jake!”

“Jake?” You look closer. “I thought his name was Jaeyun.”

“Yeah, but I call him Jake.” He laughs. “He’s my cousin.”

You nod your head, taking in his words. Jake’s sudden move made a lot more sense, seeing as Riki’s mother was getting sicker every day. She must have needed some help from her family to not only manage her household, but make sure Riki stayed on track.

“He probably wants to see you. Yeri must’ve gotten it all mixed up.”

Riki grabs his phone, scrolling through texts with his thumb. “Actually, he did mention almost running over a cute girl on his way to work.” The young boy smirks. “I’m gonna assume that’s you?”

You blush, the flush on your cheeks making you feel hot. “Whatever. He’s probably just picking you up!”

“I brought my own bicycle, dude. And as cool as Jake is, his driving makes me nauseous.” Riki begins packing up his belongings on the desk as you wonder what Jake would want to say that hadn’t already been said earlier. Surely he had no interest in talking to you beyond another apology for almost killing you earlier, not that you would have noticed.

As your thoughts continue on, you barely hear Riki’s parting words. “Have fun making out with my cousin!”

You venture outside and are greeted to Jake’s soft smile as he looks you over. “Didn’t expect you to be teaching my cousin how to read.”

You laugh. “When would that have come up? Before or after I fell face-first on the sidewalk?”

“Technically, you fell on your ass.” He looks over the cuts on your leg again. “Still doesn’t hurt?”

“Barely remember it.”

“Damn. Didn’t realize I was so forgettable,” he teases. You shuck your backpack over your shoulder, pretending his joke didn’t land. But you can’t help how your mouth curves into a grin. “Wanna take me up on that ride now? I don’t see any wine moms in sight.”

Being clear headed and not in the midst of a compromising position, you take a better look at Jake. He may look rugged from the neck down, muscles standing out through his jacket, but his face is incredibly youthful and vulnerable without a touch of hardness. Maybe the wine moms had gotten it wrong; maybe Jake’s actually a stand-up guy bundled up in a lot of leather.

Before you can answer, your father seems to appear from thin air. He wraps his arm around your shoulder. “Mr. Sim, pleasure to meet you officially.”

Your father holds out his hand for Jake, and Jake takes it with a steadfast grip. “Nice to meet you too sir. My mother was telling me how much you’ve been helping my aunt since she can’t attend services anymore.”

“Akemi is a pillar of our church. It’s only right to take care of one of our own as the deacon.” Your father squeezes you tighter to his side. “Glad to see you and my daughter have met. I hope she’s made a good impression upon you.”

“Yes sir. Very much so.” He smiles in your direction. The dimple in his cheek makes your heart flutter in your chest, the butterflies undeniable.

“Well, please tell your parents to come to ours soon for dinner. It would be a pleasure.” Your father begins the quick walk to his car, the silent request for you to follow him clear in his stern posture. You give Jake an apologetic smile before you leave, hoping your eyes hold the promise of taking him up on that ride someday.

When you’re both out of earshot and in the confines of your father’s car, he turns to you with a frown. “Do not get yourself involved with that boy. He doesn’t strike me as very forthcoming.”

You stutter out an excuse. Surely the first day of knowing Jake wouldn’t be the last. “F-Father–”

“Listen to me, sweetie. I know what I’m talking about.” He starts the car and begins the drive home, tightening his fists on the steering wheel. “I mean it. Do not see that boy again.”

The next morning, you’re sitting in one of the front pews with your mother, Yeri, and her mother. You see your fellow townsfolk in attendance in the other pews, Jungwon being one of them, Yeri’s longtime boyfriend. Mrs. Choi and Mrs. Lee look like they are partially focused on the attendees, but also on their own gossip.

All of you are dressed in your best outfits, your hair wrapped in a bun to maintain the peak of modesty. It doesn’t seem particularly realistic for a higher power to be judging you for your hairdo, but you gave in to your mother’s ridiculous requests as always. “We are important people in this community, darling,” your mother said as she stuck the umpteenth bobby pin in your hair. “If they can’t trust us, who can they trust?”

Riki sits behind you, his pew empty save for him. When you offer the empty spot next to you before the procession starts, he shakes his head. “Jake and his folks will be here any second.”

Your gut tightens, the words of your father playing over in your head. You know you have to heed his orders at all times, but the excitement you feel at the prospect of seeing Jake is unavoidable.

A minute before your childhood friend Heeseung sits at the piano to play the beginning of How Great Is Our God, Jake and his family walk inside. Jake’s impeccably dressed, clad in a red dress-shirt and suit pants. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, revealing a handful of tattoos you didn’t notice the day prior. He has his mother’s arm in one hand and a bible in the other, looking completely out of place but incredibly mesmerizing.

He winks at you when he sits down, making you turn your head back to your friend at the piano. You follow in your mother’s and Yeri’s lead, singing alongside them and forgetting the new buzz in your veins. You can feel his eyes on you throughout the songs and sermons, and you should say that you don’t enjoy it, but you don't kid yourself. His attention makes your body tingle in all the right and wrong ways.

You excuse yourself in the intermission, walking outside until you’re a good ten paces away from the church. You take several pins out of your hair, grunting. The incessant tools had been scratching your scalp uncomfortably for the past three hours, and it feels like freedom taking them out one at a time.

It isn’t that you don’t believe in a higher power or the teachings your father and Reverend Park have supplied you with your entire life. The town is just too suffocating on days like these, setting you up to feel like you aren’t good enough no matter how hard you try every day to perfect yourself.

The fashion show of your humble, presentable outfit, the whispered chatter from your community, the watchful eyes of holy men. They all make your skin crawl, that itch only intensifying with every day that passes. How could you stay in such a small room for years and feel misunderstood by everyone? 

Jake saunters up to you, making you gasp in surprise. “Jesus Christ!”

He smirks, hands stuffed in his pockets. “I thought you weren’t supposed to say his name in vain.”

You shrug, smiling in relief to find it’s just him and nobody else. No-one to meddle, judge, or question your absence. “I’ll just say a few words of penance. I’m sure he’ll forgive me.”

“I knew there was a reason I liked you.” Jake chuckles and steps closer to you, his eyes lingering on your dress. It’s incredibly modest, the only skin showing high above your cleavage. but the look in his eyes still makes your nerves tremble.

 You wonder what thoughts are swimming in his head and if a majority of them are impure. Would it be so wrong to confess that you feel the same? That whatever he’s imagining mirrors your own fantasies ten times over?

“The updo doesn’t suit you,” he says finally.

You giggle and cross your arms. “It doesn’t, huh?”

He steps closer, so close you can feel his breath on your skin. It lingers across your neck and shoulder blades. You shudder, hoping he doesn’t notice how his presence affects you. He reaches behind you and takes hold of the hair tie keeping your bun together. He expertly undoes it, your hair falling in waves around your shoulders.

Before he walks away, the church bells signaling the recommencement of the procession, he whispers in your ear, “Much more breathtaking with your hair down, angel.”

The next time you see Jake, he’s across from you at your family’s dinner table, all laughs with Jungwon and Yeri as your father passes out the rest of the side dishes. Riki is also there, discussing his mother’s treatment with your mother and Jake’s parents.

You can’t help the way your eyes attach to Jake across from you. It’s almost a form of punishment that you were made to sit in such close proximity, the weight of his stare on you swallowing you whole.

The feeling of his hand in your hair, his mouth against your ear–it was all so incredibly inappropriate. You shouldn’t have thought about that day last week with such excruciating frequency, but you did. You thought about it when you heard the wine moms whispering about Jake on your porch, when Yeri and Jungwon talked about him as you studied, and when you were alone at night. 

In your dreams, it was even more painful. In a perfect world, he would take his hand from your hair and keep it on your neck, holding you close. He would move his lips from the shell of your ear to the side of your neck, kissing and tasting what skin was available to him in that moment to make you come undone.

Yes, sitting across from him is torment. But the alternative is worse, not seeing him at all and having to conjure images of him alone in the quiet of your bedroom.

“Deacon, sir,” Jungwon pipes up from his spot next to Jake, addressing your father directly. “I was going to study with Jaeyun and Yeri at my house if you wouldn’t mind your daughter tagging along.”

The muscle in your father’s jaw clenches. He’s clearly unhappy with one of the attendees being Jake, but he hides it behind a smile. “It’s up to her. What do you think, sweetie?”

On one hand, you should absolutely say no. Jake may take you into a random spot of Jungwon’s house and make any resolve you still have disappear with the flick of his wrist. Even in the company of your friends, you know no place is safe when he’s around and close to you. And were you willing to crumble so easily?

At the same time, the distance is eating away at you. You can’t take another charged glance in your direction, words unspoken but begging to be released. If you have to catch his bedroom eyes on your body one more time, you may just snap in front of everyone, and care little when you do.

“Sure. I’d love to, Wonie,” you say with a grin. “Nishi, you want to come too?”

Riki shakes his head, enjoying the fruitcake your mom set out. “I’ll stay. Someone has to help clean up.” Jake’s mom squeezes one of his cheeks. Riki’s face suddenly turns pink from his aunt’s affection, making everyone laugh.

On your way out the door, your father catches you by the arm. He whispers, “No later than midnight. Understood?”

On the cusp of 10 PM, you want to protest that time with your friends is already so limited, but you obey with a nod and walk out the door. 

When you get in the backseat of Jungwon’s car, Jake too comfortable beside you, you feel your body flicker to life. “So,” you say, “your house then, Won?”

Yeri and Jungwon laugh, a conspiratory look in both of their eyes. “We’re just gonna make a quick stop first.”

Kiss ‘Em Creek was the unofficial name of the lake that ran through your town, a spot for teenagers to spend a few hours alone with their friends or partners. It wasn’t scientifically-correct, but it stuck nonetheless, many of the locals taking advantage of the not-so-secret hideaway. What went on there you only heard about through Yeri and the wine moms’ conversations, their voices littered with disappointment and condemnation.

Jungwon parks his car and turns his eyes to meet yours in the rearview mirror, that scheming smile still playing on his lips. “Ready to take a dip?”

Your eyes widen. You shake your head at a rapid pace, making your friends and Jake chuckle. “No way,” you say.

“C’mon babe, live a little!” Yeri winks and exits the car, Jungwon hot on her heels. The two of them begin to strip to their underwear, eager to jump in the water together. Jungwon picks her up in a bridal carry, Yeri laughing the entire way as he takes the first step into the awaiting lake.

As the two lovebirds continue heading towards the water, you and Jake sit in comfortable silence, your heartbeat slowly rising at the prospect of being alone in the car together. No distractions, no disappointed parents, no judgemental hags. Just the two of you under a cloud of stars and beautiful moonlight.

“I didn’t know if you would come tonight,” Jake says, filling the silence with a quiet chuckle. “Thought you were avoiding me at all costs, like I’m some kind of plague.”

“No!” You turn in your seat to face him. His expression is teasing but holds undercurrents of disappointment, clearly confused where your feelings lie. And he has every right to feel that way. One minute you’re wishing he would pull you closer, and the next you feel it’s better he keeps his distance. “I just don’t know what your intentions are.”

His eyes darken and his lips curve into a beautiful but intimidating smile. “Is it not obvious?”

You squeeze your thighs together, a wave of heat spreading through your bones. “Maybe I just want you to say it out loud.”

He scoots closer to you, his chest a heartbeat away from yours. “Well, to start,” he says, “I would really like to kiss you.”

You smile. A breathless laugh leaves your lips, eager to know what it would feel like to touch his mouth to yours. “I’d like that too.”

Jake runs a hand through your hair and rests it on your cheek. His touch is as fragile as the tension between you. “Then what are you so afraid of?”

You shut your eyes, trying to come up with the right words and falling short. “It’s just everyone–”

“Fuck everyone else.” He forces you to look into his eyes, the words leaving his mouth being some of the truest ones you’ve ever heard in your life. “You’re not a bad person or a sinner for wanting what you want.”

“I know that.”

“You may know it but you don’t believe it.” Jake’s lips ghost over yours, his breath tickling your cheeks. “Stop thinking about what everyone else thinks of you. Think of yourself for once.”

Maybe Jake’s right. All of your choices in life have been dictated by what your parents, friends, and total strangers have felt. If you listened to your own heart, you would have left all of them in the dust by now, chasing what you really wanted far away from this place.

At the same time, you’re glad to be in this car with Jake. He’s so close to you, telling you to take the leap and choose yourself for the first time in a long time.

When you press your lips to his, the feeling of his mouth on yours soft and tentative, you know you can’t wake up tomorrow the same person. This choice will ripple into all the choices you make from this moment on, but you don’t seem to care.

All that matters is his mouth, taking more control and setting a fire deep in your belly. He presses his tongue to the juncture of your lips, diving inside without protest.

You moan into his mouth, feeling one hand firmly pressed on your neck as the other runs down your shirt to squeeze at your breast through your clothes.

“Fuck, tell me to stop,” Jake says with a heady whisper, still kneading your breast with his palm. “Tell me to stop if you don’t want this.”

You shake your head, moving closer to him to the point you’re halfway on his lap, legs intertwined with his. “So help me God, don’t stop now.”

He snickers, pecking your lips again. “You said his name in vain again.”

You roll your eyes as he chuckles into your neck. “That wasn’t the first thing on my mind.” You move your lips to his cheek. “Or the second.” They trail down to his neck, taking your fantasies and etching them into his skin. “Or third.”

“Fuck,” Jake curses, holding you tight against him. “You’re too good at this.”

You smirk. “Contrary to popular belief, you’re not the first person I’ve ever kissed.”

He laughs, the rumble of it vibrating against your mouth. “I don’t care as long as you keep kissing me.”

“Wasn’t planning on stopping.” By the time you reattach your mouth to his, you’re straddling his lap. His hands are nestled on the small of your back, wanting to inch down further but unsure where or what your boundaries are.

You take the initiative, suddenly bold, and put both of his palms on your backside. “If you wanted to touch my ass, you could’ve just said so.”

Jake licks his lips, his accent coming out in a husky whisper. “I want to touch you in a lot of places. Your ass just happens to be easily accessible right now.”

“Oh really?” You giggle. “Care to enlighten me?”

Jake sharply switches positions, your back against the expanse of the backseat as he towers over you. He rubs his hands across the outside of your thighs, eager but patient. “Gladly.”

He kisses your neck, suckling and licking with perfect pressure, making you whimper. “Jaeyun,” you say out loud, his name coming out like a question more than a statement.

“Use your words, angel. Tell me what you want.” His eyes pass over your face, your kissable lips and lust-blown irises. You’re too entrenched in him now to walk away from this car the same girl, and you wouldn’t want it any other way.

It may end badly, crash and burn completely like everyone expects it to, but that’s the last thing you care about right now.

“I want you to touch me.” You take one of his hands on your thighs and place it over your underwear, its center damp.

“Jesus,” he says in wonder, rubbing his fingers against the cotton.

“You just said–oh,” you stop short when you feel Jake’s fingers against your clit. The sensation makes you buck your hips up into him, him discovering the bundle of nerves without trying hard. He’s clearly happy at the wetness he finds. He rubs your folds in the same fashion, biting down on his bottom lip hard.

“You feel so good already. So perfect,” he whispers, taking hold of your lips again with his own while he swirls his fingers in and around your essence. He switches between teasing your clit and rubbing along your pussy, his movements lewd yet graceful. Only when he puts a finger inside of you do you gasp and look at him directly, your eyes clearly giving away your fear.

“What’s wrong, angel? Did I do something?” Concern floods his face, but he doesn’t take his hand away.

“I’ve never gone this far,” you confess, looking to your side to hide your embarrassment.

“Hey, look at me.” He turns your head to face him again, fingers laying under your chin softly. “We can stop now if you want. I don’t want you to feel pressured into doing anything you don’t want to do.”

His response makes your heart clench. Most guys, you’d imagine, would be pissed off or pleading with you to continue on, to do what they wanted and enjoy the moment. That was how Jongseong was, pouting the entire time after you told him to pump the brakes on your makeout sessions.

Somehow, with Jake, it feels right to continue. You suddenly have no anxiety clouding your thoughts or expectations weighing on your heart. You kiss his lips tenderly and shake your head. “No, I want this. I want you.”

A cheshire-cat grin spreads across his face before he goes in for another kiss. He runs his tongue along the inside of your mouth as his finger slides across your folds once again. He plunges it deep inside of your heat, your body adjusting to the new sensation with surprising ease.

You thrash lightly underneath him, matching the tempo of his finger with abandon. He slips another digit in, groaning at the feeling of your soft, gummy walls becoming accustomed to him. “You’re taking my fingers so well, angel. ‘S fucking incredible.”

You gasp and feel the fire from earlier heightening in intensity, spreading from your belly into the other seams of your body. It makes your toes curl and your hand press against one of the doors of Jungwon’s car, needing something to clutch onto while feeling yourself losing what’s left of your control.

“Jaeyun, I think I–”

“I know baby,” he says, pressing his lips to your forehead. “You’re going to feel so good in a second, I promise. Don’t be afraid.”

His thumb makes contact with your neglected clit, rubbing in rapid motions as he pumps his fingers faster in and out of you. You suddenly become overloaded with pleasure; its immensity is something you’ve never felt before. You feel it coat the back of your mouth and take what’s left of your rational senses, your body moving on its own accord as you ride out what’s remaining of your orgasm.

You blush furiously when you come back down to earth, giggling like a schoolgirl as Jake kisses your sweat-drenched cheek. “That was…amazing.”

Jake chuckles, a smirk painting his features. “You’re amazing.”

You tuck your face in your hands, embarrassed but still enraptured by what you just experienced. He pulls one hand away, taking it in his own, his expression suddenly shy. “So, I guess this is the part where I ask you on a proper date.”

You laugh and sit up, placing your panties back around your hips and adjusting your skirt. “I would hope so!”

Jungwon and Yeri choose that moment to run back into the car, their hair drenched but their bodies properly dressed once again. Jungwoon looks at the two of you in the backseat and grimaces. “Not in my car, man!”

Despite the warnings from your parents and the wine moms, you and Jake had become inseparable within a month’s time. It took many late-night impromptu meetings and secret rendezvous to keep your relationship private, but you had succeeded thus far. And it only made the moments you both shared that much more special.

Riki had kept your secret, keeping his eyes out for any prying townsfolk and covering for his cousin and you if need be. Yeri and Jungwon also cheered you on from the shadows, hoping one day you could be public like they were without criticism.

Sitting in the field near the lake, a picnic blanket set across the grass, you have your head in Jake’s lap while he absentmindedly turns strands of your hair into miniature braids. It’s a beautiful Wednesday afternoon, the two of you occupying the resounding forest with no outside influences.

“Have I told you lately how beautiful your hair is?” Jake asks, kissing your forehead before he takes another batch of strands in his hand. If he has to pick one of your best attributes, in his words, he’d say it was a tie between your lips and your hair, the two of them constantly making his heart race. You called him a liar, but as time revealed, he was nothing but honest with you every day, and not just about what turns him on. 

Over time, you discovered his fears, his ticks, his aspirations past the small town you both found yourselves in. You admire his vulnerability, how open he is when sharing the thoughts that occupy his mind.

“At least three times already,” you tease, running your hand across his leg.

“It’s not bad to hear it a fourth time, right?” He plants another kiss to the crown of your head. He drops the braid he’s just made across your face, making you laugh.

“I’d rather hear how work went today,” you say, getting up to press your back to his chest, snuggling into him.

He shrugs, wrapping his arms around you tighter. “Not much to talk about. Working with roofs all day isn’t exactly exciting, angel.” 

You know Jake doesn’t want to work at his dad’s construction company for the rest of his life. However, it provides stability, and that matters a lot to him. He knows what it did to his aunt when Riki’s father walked out early on in his cousin’s life, and he wouldn’t wish that lack of support on anyone.

“At least you’re not running a tutoring center and a daycare in the same church,” you joke, your tone anything but humorous. The brood you dealt with every day was completely unlike Riki. They were kids that were carbon copies of their parents, children that would one day become exactly like their absentminded fathers and speculatory mothers. It put a taste in your mouth you couldn’t stomach.

You fall into steady silence, the uptick in both of your nerves ebbing away the longer you hold each other. Sure, Jake hates roofing as much as you hate disciplining whining toddlers and helping apathetic tweens with mathematics, but it doesn’t matter at this moment.

All that does is each other, enjoying the midweek sunset and the sounds of the birds flying overhead.

“What would you do if you were somewhere else?” Jake asks into the crook of your neck.

You grin, imagining a world of possibilities. The question never came up before, not from him or anyone else. It opens up a plethora of choices in your mind, but you narrow them down quickly, knowing what your heart truly desires.

“I’d like to teach,” you answer. “Really teach, maybe at a university. Something like poetry.” You turn to look at him, a newfound fire in your eyes. “Yeah.”

Jake smiles back at you, moving stray strands of hair from your shoulder to rest his head there. “I think you’d be great at that.”

“What would you do?”

Jake ponders the question, going over it in the same way you were moments before. You see realization wash over his features, and it makes you smile. “I think I’d write. Not literature or anything, but songs maybe? Teach music in the meantime. Still have to make money somehow, y’know.”

You giggle and push him down on the picnic blanket, running your fingers through his hair. “Sounds like a plan.”

He nods, sharing your happiness. “Maybe a kid and a dog can fit somewhere in that plan.”

Chuckling, you raise one eyebrow. “As long as I’m not having a baby out of wedlock, that sounds perfect to me.”

He turns you both over, covering your body with his and kissing you intensely. The passion runs from his body to yours, your heartbeats matching in their strong beats against your chests. “Perfect,” he whispers, his lips meeting yours once again.

It may be too soon to call it love, but you know you’re tiptoeing that line, and you wouldn’t mind falling headfirst on the other side of it as long as Jake’s there waiting for you.

“Are you sure they don’t know I’m here?” Jake asks, hesitant to walk up the stairs to your bedroom.

“It’s fine! They’re at a seminar all weekend with Reverend Park and his son, I promise.” You kiss his lips before running up to your room. Still on the fence, you hear his tentative footsteps trudging behind you.

Another few months rolled by, and your parents had softened to the idea of Jake being around more often. He showed up with his parents to church every Sunday, even if you both snuck off to make out in the backwoods when nobody was paying attention.

He’d stick around for the deacon’s sessions with Akemi, brightening her spirits with his guitar and a couple of songs to replace the ones she missed during normal processions. It helped that she seemed to be getting better, slowly but surely, with treatment and daily prayer.

When you heard your father call Jake a “nice kid,” you knew they were turning a corner in their relationship that you wished for since the night Jake kissed you in Jungwon’s car.

Now, that doesn’t mean they would be happy with finding him in your bed on a Friday night, but you’ve broken enough rules at this point. What’s one more?

“You’re trying to get me killed,” Jake jokes as you rip his shirt from his body, discarding the article of clothing on your bedroom floor. You sit on your bed and marvel at the muscles on his chest and stomach, all of it yours to caress and kiss at any time.

“Don’t worry, babe. I’ll follow you to heaven,” you tease, pulling him closer to kiss his body. Each press of your lips to his skin makes him tremble, cursing quietly to himself at the feeling.

“With the way you’re touching me, I doubt either of us will make it there.”

You giggle and link his mouth to yours. You moan when his tongue hits the roof of your mouth.

The intentions you had for tonight definitely involved numerous bouts of kissing, but the way Jake’s making you feel will certainly end up with his face or fingers between your legs. And as good as that sounds, you don’t want him derailing you from completing your mission.

There had been so many moments of him giving you pleasure up to this point, you wondered how he had stayed so composed and content after without expecting anything in return.

So, tonight, you decided to give him a bit of satisfaction, even if you’re walking into such activities without any kind of road map. Yeri gave you a handful of tips, but doing it for real is another beast entirely.

“Jaeyun, wait,” you say, taking his face in between your hands.

He looks up at you with eager eyes, wondering why you pulled him away from your neck. “What is it?”

“I want to take care of you this time.” You say, hoping your expression gives off the confidence you’re trying to portray. “I’ve never done it before, but—“

“And you don’t have to, angel,” Jake says with a dopey, relaxed smile. What on Earth and heaven did you do to find a guy like him?

“Please,” you beg, scooting closer to the edge of the bed. “I want to try.”

Jake’s conflicting feelings are evident in his eyes. Surely any man wants his girlfriend to go down on him with the same eagerness that you're giving him right now, but he doesn’t want you to feel obligated. 

In his mind, pleasure isn’t about some sort of trade-off. He makes you feel good because he wants to, not because it’s some duty he has to fulfill and expects to be paid back for later.

But, you asked so nicely and your eyes shine up at him so beautifully. He feels his resolve crumble enough to concede and do what you want.

You begin to unbutton his pants, your fingers twitching not from fear but excitement. When you pull down his jeans fully and see the outline of his bulge in his briefs, your mouth falls open slightly at the size.

Could it fit in your mouth if it was that big?

Jake chuckles and takes your hand to press to the gaping material covering him. “It won’t bite.”

You look up at him and begin to stutter, unsure how to continue once you take off his underwear. “D-Do you want me to use my hands first?”

“Whatever feels right to you, angel. I trust you.” He rubs his thumb across your cheek, and it calms all the nerves that came to the surface.

It’s in those three words that you find the courage to pull the remaining article of clothing off of him, taking in the sight of his cock in all its glory.

You gulp hard, trailing your eyes from the tip to where it adjoins to the rest of him. You’ve never seen one up close before, and you feel like you’re invading his privacy as you stare at it for another long minute. But who can blame you?

“It’s all for you, baby,” Jake whispers. “Do whatever you want.”

You feel a sharp pang of heat at the center of your thighs, his words spurring you on. You spit into your hand, as Yeri instructed, and wrap your hand firmly around Jake’s cock. With an easy but deliberate pace, you look at Jake directly to see if you’re starting off on the right foot.

And boy were you.

Jake hisses at the feeling of your hand encasing him, loving the tightness of your fingers as they continue sliding up and down his dick. He had envisioned this many times in the solitude of his bedroom, images of you and your beautiful body writhing underneath him enough to get him off. But those nights were nothing compared to this.

“Are you ready for my mouth now?” You ask timidly. Jake wants to laugh at how innocent you sound, the words coming so naturally off of your tongue.

“Yes, angel, please,” he answers, wanting to caress you by the hair and guide you down to his awaiting, leaking cock.

You move closer until you're an inch away from his tip. Flattening your tongue to take it into your mouth, you keep watching Jake’s face for the right signals.

His mouth opens, a satisfied whine leaving his lips. You feel a wave of pride at the fact he’s enjoying it so much, egging you on further.

“Your mouth feels so perfect wrapped around me,” he confesses. He soaks in the sensation of your lips and teeth softly running over the veins of his cock, your head bobbing across his length skillfully. How can an innocent and dutiful daughter like you give such mind-blowing head?

He can’t ruminate on the answer long, releasing a guttural moan as he feels his tip hit the back of your throat, the gag that rumbles from you making his cock even more sensitive.

“Angel, I’m gonna come soon,” Jake warns. “If you don’t want me to come in your mouth, let me know now.”

You look up through your lashes at him as you continue sucking on him with fierce passion, swirling your tongue across his tip. 

His hand is wrapped firmly in your hair now, fucking your face as softly as he can without forcing anymore of himself down your throat. When you take a hand to cup his balls, softly kneading them between your fingers, he’s done for.

He whines pathetically as his seed shoots inside your mouth. The taste isn’t particularly pleasing, but you milk it for what it’s worth to watch him fall apart so perfectly under your attention.

The orgasm rocks through him with an unshakeable amount of pleasure, his body completely helpless as he continues to spurt into your mouth. He can only hiss and whine as you continue to touch him, letting him come down fully and taking all of him without complaint.

Jake breathes in deeply when he gains clarity again, taking you in his arms and shoving his tongue deep in your mouth. “That was probably the best blowjob I’ve ever gotten,” he states, running his fingers over your face with adoration.

You scoff and roll your eyes, his words making you shy. “I doubt it, seeing as that was my first one.”

“It was!” Jake puts a hand on his heart. “Swear to the savior himself.” Before you can rebut, Jake takes your legs in his hands and moves you to the edge of the bed.

You wake up to the hard knocks at your bedroom door, the morning sun peeking out of your window to prove the previous night has long gone.

“Honey? What did we say about locked doors in this house?”

Your father’s booming voice makes you jump up from bed, smacking Jake hard on the shoulder and chest to wake him up.

“We had an odd feeling at the hotel, so we came home early,” your mother says as you shake Jake from his sleep.

“Ow, what the fuck,” Jake grunts, his voice not quiet enough to go unnoticed. You curse yourself and the reality in front of what’s about to happen, knowing full well your parents heard him on the other side of the door.

“Sweetie, who’s in there with you?” Your mother’s shrill but concerned tone makes you cringe. Jake’s eyes bulge in response, quickly leaping from the mattress to pull on his clothes in haste.

Just when you throw your dress from last night over your head and Jake buttons up his pants, your father slams open the door with his shoulder. Your parents gasp and yell at the sight before them, the man they began to grow comfortable with in a compromising position with their only daughter and precious child.

“What in God’s name is he doing here?” Your father asks no-one in particular, stomping towards Jake’s shirtless figure and yanking him by the neck.

“Daddy, stop!” You plead, scratching and clawing at his frame to pull him off of your lover.

Your mother begins blubbering, teary-eyed before you. “Oh honey, what did he do to you?”

“Nothing,” you scream. “Please leave him alone and let us be.”

“I told you to stay away from him.” Your father stares you down, eyes blazing with fury. “Not only did you betray me, but you betrayed the sanctity of your purity. It’s a disgrace.”

Jake coughs, your father’s hands tightening around his neck. “The only disgrace is the two of you holding her back, like she’s some weak bird in a cage,” he croaks. “She can make her own decisions.”

“You stay silent, you insolent pest,” your father growls, yanking Jake out of your room and down the stairs. By the time you and your mother make it out to the bottom step, your father has thrown Jake out and onto the porch.

“Stay away from my daughter, or you’ll have another reason to pray you don’t end up burning in hell.”

“Stop it!” You step in between your father and Jake, the latter putting on what’s left of his clothes. People begin to hover too close to your family home, suddenly entrenched in the scene playing out before them.

Jake kisses your forehead and walks away in the direction of his parked bike, unsure what else he can do unless he wants to truly end up six feet under. 

 Your father grabs you by the upper arm and pulls you in the direction of your porch, but you resist with all your might. “You can’t make me go back in there.”

“I am your father and you will listen to me,” he grunts, holding on tight.

“Daddy, I love him!” You scream as you yank your arm away from your father, your inner strength giving way. “If you can’t accept that, I guess I’ll just have to burn hell with him. Better than wasting another second here.”

You run toward Jake’s bike and sit behind him, cinching your arms around his waist. He smiles to himself, feeling the press of your chest to his back as he puts his helmet over his head. “Are you sure about this, angel?”

You nod furiously, not bothering to look back at your red-faced family. “More than I’ve ever been.”

All you focus on is his motorcycle rumbling to life before you speed away. Your hair blows in the wind as you both escape the horrified stares of the local vipers.

You end up at a motel on the other side of town, far away from the scandal that’s surely rocking your small community by now. The deacon’s daughter running away with the bad boy next door? What a tragedy!

You run inside to miss the upcoming rain, both of you shivering from the barrage of pellets that did land on your skin. You settle onto the mattress as Jake drops the small amount of belongings he had in his possession on the dresser.

He turns to you with quiet concern, arms splayed out on the furniture as he looks at you, searching your face for any lingering doubt. “No regrets?”

You shake your head, exhausted but glad to be out of that house. “None at all.”

He breathes out a sigh of relief and sits down beside you on the bed, rubbing your thigh with his fingers. “I’m sorry.”

Your brows knit together, confusion pouring over you. You take his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers. “You have nothing to apologize for. If anything, I should be apologizing to you.”

 You feel tears build at your eye ducts, your voice suddenly growing thick when you recall the scene from an hour ago. “I’m sorry my father was so horrible to you.”

“Hush, it’s okay,” he puts his other hand on your face. He kisses your lips tenderly and gracefully. How did nobody else but you see he possessed the most kind nature of anyone you’ve ever known?

Jake moves his head, his lips curving into the smile that always takes your common sense away. “I love you too, by the way.”

Your confession from earlier hits you like a heavy rock, your eyes going wide and your face turning pale. “That wasn’t the way I wanted to say it.”

“Then say it now,” Jake urges, your face resting gently between his fingers.

There’s no fear or pressure when the three words leave your lips, only the feeling of a weight lifting off of your chest. “I love you, Sim Jaeyun. I love you with my whole heart.”

His face lights up, the words seeming to set aglow something deep within him. The only right reaction seems to be in the form of his lips attaching to yours in a passionate kiss, your shared love creating a beautiful path forward for the both of you.

He whispers his next words so lightly, you almost assume the statement is a figment of your imagination. “Marry me.”

You feel your face contort into a mixture of disbelief and elation, needing to hear him say it again for it to truly resonate. “What?”

“Marry me,” he repeats, his smile stretching across his face. “Marry me now, or in three months from now, or whenever you want. Just say you will.”

You exhale a breath of astonishment, unsure if he knows how much you want to say yes, to make this as real as it sounds on his lips. He leaves your side with a kiss to your temple to grab something from his jacket. 

He comes back in record time, standing in front of you and twiddling the black box in both of his hands with anxious fingers. “I brought it with me to your house last night, I just didn’t know how to ask then. But I do now.”

Like in all the stories you’ve read and movies you’ve seen in your lifetime, he sinks down onto one knee before you. You place a hand over your mouth as he opens the box, a ring with an opal-shaped diamond cushioned in the center.

“Would you please do me the honor of being my wife?” Those words on his lips, visibly shaken from his own question, make a thousand butterflies flutter inside your chest.

Months ago, if you knew then you would end up here, from the edge of the sidewalk to now, you would not change a single moment. The world had been so gray before, you didn’t know what it was like to step in the sun until he came into your life. What other answer is there?

“Yes, yes, yes,” you respond, tears flooding your eyes as he shakily places the ring on your finger. It fits just right, the stone at the center sparkling in the darkness of the motel room.

You kiss Jake’s lips with all the force your body possesses, certain there’s no better future than right beside him.

The feeling of the gold band around your finger makes Jake shudder as it touches his cock. Your body is nestled perfectly on top of his as you take what you can’t put in your mouth between your fingers.

He laps up your essence with his tongue, ecstatic to have his face covered in your juices and smothered if need be by your wet cunt. If people think wedding nights are magical, engagement nights have to be a step up.

“Fuck, Jaeyun, yes,” you roll your hips into his awaiting mouth, his tongue available for you to lay your slit onto. The expletive leaves your mouth like honey, the feeling fitting for such a dirty word.

He knows exactly how to make you fall apart and be put back together, and the thought of doing this for the rest of your life makes you want to cry again from the pure happiness inside your core.

Jake takes his lips off of your pussy and sits up. Before you can ask what he’s doing, he takes you into his lap on the bed and kisses you fiercely. You taste yourself on his tongue as he skillfully takes your breath away with his lips. When you part, he says, “Angel, I know we said we’d wait, but I don’t know how much longer I can handle not being inside of you.”

You whimper at his words and suddenly rock your center into the tip of his cock, making him groan in the process. “I mean—we’re just starting early, right?” 

Jake releases a joyous laugh and kisses you hungrily, his face in a constant state of ecstasy since you said “yes” hours ago. “Right.”

 The anticipation makes you even wetter, crawling to the head of the bed as Jake grabs a condom from the bedside table. If there was one thing he had promised, he swore he wouldn’t get you pregnant. Not yet, anyway.

He rolls the rubber over his cock before joining you on the bed, lining up perfectly with your center. He rubs his tip against your folds, biting his lip at how easily it gets coated in your essence. “Ready?”

You nod eagerly, a smirk filling the entire bottom half of your face.

He pushes the tip in, the pressure a foreign feeling you had never experienced before. It took time and practice to get used to the size of his fingers, but this is another level of fullness that takes your breath away.

Once Jake’s partially inside and gives you a moment to adjust, he asks, “Can I move?”

You nod your head, holding onto his shoulders for support as he begins to thrust inside of you. He loves to see his cock disappearing between your legs, your body eagerly taking him in and stretching itself out to accommodate him. He loves the way you whimper at the movement of his hips and the pleasure you’re receiving.

Better yet, he loves you. He loves all of you, from the nonsensical words you speak in your sleep to the wrinkle between your eyebrows when you get mad. You’re all his, and he’s grateful to be the only one you call yours.

“We may never leave this motel,” Jake says, his words breathy as he continues moving his hips. “I could stay inside of you for the rest of my life, angel.”

“I love you so much,” you say, inching your hand between your bodies to roll your clit between your fingers.

“I love you,” Jake says. He takes your face in his hands and kisses you like he wants to pour all of his emotions from his being into your soul, just so you know how deep his love for you goes.

It’s all so overwhelmingly beautiful, you feel the swell of your release cresting over you like a tidal wave. “Baby, I’m gonna come,” you whisper, your mouth open wide from the moans and cries you cannot suppress.

Jake groans and slams his hips into you harder, filling you to the hilt repeatedly. “Come, angel. Come for me.”

You cry out as the orgasm takes hold of your body, your fingers working on their own accord on your clit as you fall off the edge.

Jake stills not a second later, releasing into the condom and taking the last remnants of his energy to thrust inside of you a few more times.

He pulls out and throws the rubber in a nearby trash can. His sweaty body clings to yours, hands rubbing up and down your arm tenderly as he kisses the curve of your shoulder.

You see the flash of your ring in the glow of the motel’s neon sign, and you think about how the night could not have gone any better.

Jake may be a bit reckless and not what you initially imagined for your future, but now that you have him, you wouldn’t give him up for anything. All the parts of you that stayed buried for so long have resurfaced because of him, and you could not be more grateful.

With your left hand a touch heavier than it was some hours ago, you fall asleep to the sound of the rain hitting the window and Jake’s rising and falling chest.

You walk out of your mother’s house, happy to have made a visit with her before she ran off to do her morning errands.

What you’re not pleased to encounter is the same crowd of women huddled with their homemade fans and cups of lemonade. They weren’t there when you arrived a few hours ago.  Of course they show up when you have no chance of escaping them, like the vultures they are.

“Mrs. Sim,” Mrs. Choi says, her tone entirely made of stone with little warmth. “Pleasure to see you.”

Your new surname gives you indescribable amounts of happiness. It took your parents some time to get used to, but eventually, they realized you put your heart in the right place. Your father took his sweet time getting there, begrudgingly admitting a short time ago Jake is a very acceptable son-in-law, the turnaround of his perception of your husband complete.

You give the crotchety ringleader a fake smile and attempt to walk away, but Mrs. Lee interjects. “How’s your mister doing working at the church now?”

“Great,” you say, genuinely happy to talk about a topic you care for. “Jaeyun loves the kids. Little Yuna might actually be a guitar prodigy from what he’s told me.”

They all coo, practically synchronized in their sips of lemonade and fan flurries.

“Soon enough you’ll have one of your own, I’m sure,” Mrs. Choi remarks with sarcasm, her red-lipstick-stained front teeth on full display.

“Not too soon now,” Jake suddenly says, walking up the pathway to your mother’s house and taking you in by the waist. “My wife has to finish her Masters first. How else is she gonna start teaching at the community college?”

My wife. No matter how long it’s been since you officially got married in your church, that day a year ago forever ingrained in your memory, it still warms you to the bones hearing those words leave Jake’s lips.

The women all express signs of agreement, some nodding while others hum.

“We better get back home now, but you ladies have a nice day!” Jake bids them goodbye and walks you both down the stairs with his hand on the small of your back. Even if he were to be more than the perfect gentleman in front of them, they would still linger around with pesky eyes and constantly moving lips.

“They’re still betting we’re gonna crash and burn, aren’t they?” Jake whispers, teasing you with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

You shake your head. You fall more in love with him every day that passes, no matter what the people around you do or don’t see. They may have their opinions, but it won’t shake the foundation you’ve built. “Well, they’re sure to be disappointed if I have anything to say about it.”

Jake’s eyes widen, his expression humorous yet surprised. “Easy, angel. Don’t want to have to tear my wife off of a nosy wine mom.”

Your heart aches at his words, him fully aware of what two of them in particular do to you. “I love you.”

Jake grins, inching his face closer to yours. “I’d love nothing more than to kiss you right now, but what would everyone say?” He asks with a mock face of horror.

You shrug without much care, grinning. “Someone once told me ‘fuck everyone else.’ And right now I couldn’t agree more.”

Jake laughs before he places a gentle kiss to your lips, the sun radiating off of him in waves as he pulls you closer.

No matter what anyone in your small town has to say, your choices are yours; you’re perfectly happy with how your life has turned out whether they think so too or not. And you will always choose Sim Jaeyun, now and forever.

@yvnempire @sjylouvre @mini-mews @jayparked @heesuncore @yoursjaeyun @sungbeams @jenoslutie @loserlvrss

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 ౨ৎ˚₊

@kvanity-main @sweetvenomnet @onedoornet @sayxonet @violetanet @svthub @whipped-kpop-creators

[militaryapple]

Thinking about how Caleb would react to you moving to your own room after sex when he falls asleep. He wakes up and sees you sleeping in your own room and not with him. him finding out (after basically interrogating her and asking non stop for days since she started distancing herself) mc gets really insecure after sex but she usually stays, just this time she got in her head too much and actually decided to leave 😭

he'd be so sweet :( oh he would shower u with so much love.. my sweet boy caleb aghhh hold me..

wc. 2.4k

was he the problem?

caleb looked at you, dumbfounded almost as he listened to your sweet confession. "i just.." you said softly, "its not you, caleb — just the way ive see other woman, how better looking they are, how you fit so well between them.." caleb could feel his body tense. how could you say such deprecating things about yourself? have you seen yourself? you were perfect to him. other woman didn't stand a chance.

he knew something was up with you. it was like this for a while now, how everytime you both finished having sex; he would fall asleep in your arms just to wake up to you gone. it made his heart drop. how he’d get up to look for you worried, just to find you asleep in your room. his chest heavy watching you curl in your own bed. at first; he thought maybe it was just uncomfortable for you, you two have always slept together but it was intimate and new — you just needed to readjust to it.

then it was again, and again, and again.

then, at some point you two had stopped. there was no intimacy, no sex, not even a glance of love. so.. he thought he was problem. he didn’t press the furthers, why should he? if he was the issue then he should fix it — and quick. after a while he had thought maybe he had became a better version of himself, he learned new recipes, did chores more often than he should’ve, even started to stay home more to stay next to you; ignoring his colonel duties. yet there was no avail.

he needed to ask you what the problem was.

so here you were, telling him everything. how you felt, how ashamed you were in your own skin. his heart ached for you, he could tell you a million times on how pretty you were, how everytime you spoke it seemed like you the sun, or how whenever you looked at him; it was full of pure love. caleb’s hands found their way to your skin, pulling you close.

his hands on the crown of your head before moving down, patting you. his other arm holding you closely — tightly. he wasn’t going to let you go, he couldn’t let you go. “i’m sorry,” he said softly placing a kiss on your head, his hand moving to your face lifting it so you could look at him. his movements with you were gentle, like you were delicate. “you’re so — where do i begin?” he let out a soft chuckle, planting a kiss on your forehead.

“first of all, your beauty is unmatched.” you stood, looking at him while his arms dropped away from you, both hands now cupping your face while he wiped away your tears through your occasional sniffling. “truly, it is. you are like heaven and earth combined, kissed by the gods themselves.” his kisses lowering down, now on your cheek. “your hair is pretty too, yeah baby? all the cute styles you do with it,” he hummed down, now kissing your ears. “how could i forget your lips? yeah? perfect. just for me to kiss.” his words were sweet, reassuring.

caleb kissed you, it wasn’t rushed. he didn’t hope for anything back, it was a kiss to make sure you knew that he loved you. to him you were a jewel; something he should put up to show the world that it’s his. you wrapped your arms around his neck, returning the kiss, your hands finding their way around his body. “ah-ah.” he said softly, pulling away. “we aren’t doing anything if you aren’t ready,” he placed a small kiss back on your forehead, his hands bringing your arm down before intertwining his hand into yours.

his hands moved up to his lips, turning over so he could kiss your hands. "you are perfect." he said softly, you looked up at him. his gaze meets yours. he was real. truthful. there was no hint of mockery or lies behind his beautiful eyes, it made your heart race. "then," you said, eyes moving away from his. "can we.. kiss?" your voice was low. embarrassed. maybe you were so shy because he was quick to take your breath, leaning in and holding you.

you were shy because he guided you to his bed, and laid you down trying his hardest to not separate your lips. you were shy about how between each breath, he made sure that he complimented you. each part of you, "your smile is beautiful," to "your hands are the perfect size to hold". caleb had your grinning ear to ear - making it feel as if it was both of your first times again.

you leaned into his touch, bringing you up and settling you on his lap on top of him. he loved having you in this position, how he could see your face so clearly, how you looked straight at him on his legs while he sat up on his headboard. you pulled away making caleb look at you. "caleb, i really want to," you place your hand on his shirt, pressing down on his body.

fuck you were so sweet for him, you really were. he couldn't help but hold your hand, using his free one to cup your cheek. "you sure?' he looked at you like you were going to break. he was so kind with you, "I don't want to.. just for you to leave me." his eyes fluttered away from you, his cheeks and ears turning red. "at least let me show you how much you mean to me, please? let me love you - worship you." he kissed you again before pulling away.

you couldn't say no, he was like a puppy in love.

it wasn't long until caleb was back to kissing you, his kisses starting at your head, moving down to your cheeks. every time he pulled away he would whisper sweet nothing's to you - making sure you knew that he adored you. you were a woman kissed by the gods themselves and send down to him. how could you feel so bad about yourself when you were so perfect? those women you envy had nothing against you. they were mere peasants compared to you, a princess in all her glory.

you whined, the feeling of his kisses tickling your chin as he continued to press them against you, his hands moving towards your stomach as he lifted your shirt to rub small circles around your stomach, you were quick to move away from him, pulling your shirt down and looking away from him. ah. right, your body. caleb's brows furrowed before leaning close to you. "I love your stomach," he hummed "how easy it is to hold you," he kissed your cheek, your once stilled body leaning closer to him. he took it as a sign to slowly - make his way to your hips.

“how i can kiss it,” you didn’t react to his touch, letting out a small ‘mm,’ in resistance but he stayed firm. he knew you weren’t going to go anywhere this time. “how i can feel you.” his mouth made its way to your lips and you returned the kiss. he carefully touched your stomach, watching your every move. you seemed more comfortable, so he pushed himself a little farther. his hands traced down to your thigh, rubbing it slowly. "caleb," was what you muttered out. oh you sounded so pretty, his name falling from your lips were music to his ears. "what is it baby?" he murmured, his hands rubbing the inside of your thing. "so soft, you know.. i imagine my cock between your thighs, they're so pretty. i cant help but think about how i'll pump into them," his kiss lowering to your neck. you whined at the confession he made, holding to his neck.

his hands slid closer to your cunt, his fingers pressing soft against the fabric of your panties while you moan softly. "yeah? you like when I press riiiight here?" he was precise, his fingers pressing down on your sensitive nub making you twitch in return. you let out a moan, his mouth reaching yours. your kisses now sloppy, messy. "there you go pretty baby, let me make you feel good, let me love you." his breaths turning into moans — feeding into you.

you could only nod, your eyes fighting to stay open. your hips rolling at the feeling of his fingers that rubbed and tickled your nub. caleb’s fingers moved to your panties, pulling on the waistline before down to your cunt. “look at you, so wet. it’s so cute, already eager.” he kissed your cheek, his mouth maneuvering to your ear as he whispered. “deep breath for me baby ‘just wanna make you feel good. okay?” you listened — and before you knew it he slid a digit in your cunt.

he pumped you agonizingly slow, watching your cunt suck him in knuckles deep. you were gorgeous, your moans to your eyes. your flushed face and how you looked at him like he was everything. “you look so pretty like this,” he hummed, his fingers quickening at the sound of your moans before sliding another digit in you. “i can stare at you like this for hours — stare at your gorgeous body.” his free hand sliding up your shirt, cupping your tits while he fondled you.

“so soft” he purred, his mouth now mouthing to your jawline, his fingers both touching and fucking you. you cried holding on to his arm while your legs closed tightly together. that didn’t stop caleb from going faster. his fingers reaching deep into you — making you feel him. “i love you,” he whined, his eyes glossy while looking at you. god, you haven’t done anything to him yet he looks like he’s about to cum. “i love you, everything about you, i want you, i need you.” you fall back on the bed, moaning while you clenched against the feeling of his fingers.

“come on pips, cum for me yeah? you can do it pretty girl,” the words sending a shiver down your spine, your hips rolling at the rhythm his hands rubbed you. it wasn't until a minute later you were babbling sweet nothings, clutching on the sheets of his bed while you moaned out his name. you were pretty little thing. Caleb moved his hand away from your tit, and slipped his fingers away from your pussy. he leaned down, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. "you're doing so well for me, yeah pretty baby? you wanna stop here? i'll run a bath and wash you.." he was cut short quickly, your hand tugging on his arm.

"please," you whined out softly, your hands twitching while you looked into his eyes. he couldn't say no to you, after all you were his prized possession. caleb was quick to tug on his pants, pulling them down and his waist line, his cock pretty - leaking precum while he stared down at you. he lined himself up with your cunt, sliding his tip between your folds. "oh fuck baby," he gasped, eyes fluttering while one of his hands grabbed your arms, holding them down - the other exploring your body.

"I wish you could see just how beautiful you look," he whimpered, "how - mphgh, how good you are for me." his hips thrusted between your cunt, your juices coating him while he let out soft moans and whimpers. "oh god - baby you're perfect, so perfect I love you," he was about to sob with how good you felt. with calebs free arm he held on your hips, his hands memorizing every curve of your body. "just so gorgeous," he groaned.

you sobbed, "please, you're teasing me I can't - I want you." that was all he needed to hear before his cock was shoved deep into you. you groaned, trying to wiggle, yet caleb kept you firm. "fuck, look at you - taking me so nicely." his hips rocking into you slowly, then picking up a pace. you could only cry at the feeling, overwhelming and so fucking good. Caleb moved his hand from your hip to your nub, rubbing in circles. your legs shook before locking around his hips.

god. you were beautiful, no matter how many times he had told you. you were still so gorgeous, he loved seeing you this way. how you moaned for him, and how you held on to him so greedily. he loved feeling you - seeing you. hearing you while he fucked so deeply into your cunt. his hips started to snap against you, making your eyes roll back in response. you were drunk off him, how good he felt inside you.

you hips bucked, rolling at the feeling of him, "m close, please baby," you moaned. caleb could only shudder, his fingers rubbing against you. faster. harder. “yeah baby? come on, cum for me, wanna see your pretty lil face.” he hiccups, his pace destroying you. you couldn’t help but jolt at the feeling. you clenched around his cock, making him moan in response. you couldn’t take it anymore, your hips rolled against his, your legs shaking as you groan. it was bliss — while caleb kept his pace until he couldn’t his hips slamming into yours while he moaned. “fuck, my pretty girl oh my pretty little lady.”

caleb was quick to take care of you, taking you to the bathroom and washing both you and your hair, clothing you and feeding you a quick meal. he even set you down in his bed with fresh new sheets you didn’t even know he replaced. it was time for you both to finally get some shut eye.

caleb laid you down, then lying down next to you. he faced you, holding on to your sides as he rubbed your back under your shirt holding you close. ah, yet you couldn’t help but think about the sex. was he truthful? was he just calling you pretty, or his or gorgeous just because it was the super of the moment? your mind lingered, until caleb placed a small kiss on the crown of your head.

“i’m staying up until you fall asleep,” he hummed. you couldn’t respond. you knew why, he didn’t want you to leave again. not to run away and cry in your bed; calling yourself names that were untrue. “instead,” he said “i’ll spend the entire night telling you more things i love about you. just until i hear that you’re sleep,” his voce was soft. he was gentle. your arms wrapped around him, your face nuzzling itself in his chest while he began to whisper sweet words in your ear.

oh how he loved you. :(

[prisjean]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ caleb x reader

synopsis: after suddenly arriving to a place you have never been before, abruptly a familiar figure appears in front of you. it's caleb.. but isn't he dead? what's going on? left with unanswered questions from a new caleb, you break the news that you wish to go home.. but someone doesn't let you leave..

tw: smut, MDNI +18, cream pie, sex on the desk!!, unprotected sex (pls use protection), caleb isn't letting you cum till he says so 0.<, fingering, love bites, fast but long plot before getting smut?, long smut (idk how to write smut help) you and him couldn't deny each other, he fucks you in his uniform (sorry uniforms is a turn off), slight aftercare??, caleb's arms mentioned hehe

wc: 2.2k

a/n: first smut ive ever written >:) as much as i love the sweet caleb we used to have, i also love the new possessive caleb we're getting! happy reading!

caleb’s office was a ideal display of order. everything had a place, a name, and date. he was sat at his desk, focused, his jaw tense as he worked through another report. The faint hum of the ship's engines was the only sound in the room. you had no idea how you ended up with caleb, he was just pronounced dead and now he's back with a change of character.

you stood in the doorway, arms crossed, watching him in silence. he was back but things were different now.

somehow he returned with a different air about him. he’d been through something, something you couldn’t even begin to piece together. the walls he’d built around himself were unbreakable, but above that, you couldn’t help but feel drawn to him.

“staring won’t get you anywhere, pipsqueak,” caleb said without looking up from his paperwork, he grins to himself.

you huffed, now walking into his office. “why do you keep calling me that?” you said, slightly annoyed.

he looks up at you, his eyes dark and steady, but the grin never hesitated. “because no matter how much you try to act tough, i’ll always see you as someone who needs looking after,” he teased, his voice warm and low, savoring the effect it had on you.

a flush spread across your face, but you quickly masked it with a roll of your eyes. “...you’re crazy.”

“and you’re adorable when you’re mad,” he replied smoothly with a smirk, shifting in his chair as he focused on his work once more.

your mind swirls as you get close to him and his desk. the urge to be near him was undeniable, but the words you wanted to say were stuck in your throat. then finally, you cleared your throat.

“...i want to leave.”

the words fill the air, caleb finally places his pen down as he raises his gaze, his face stern.

“leave?” he asked, his tone darker now.

“yeah..” you replied, taking a small step forward. “i-i think i need some time to process all this. i think we need time apart before we talk about every-”

he listens but then cuts you off. “no.” he said, sternly.

you blinked, caught off guard by the sudden cutoff. “no? that’s it? just ‘no’?”

“that’s all you’re getting, pipsqueak” he said, now standing up and walking around the desk, closing the distance between you two. he was close now, he was practically hovering over you, his uniform feeding an undeniable aura. “you’re not leaving. you belong here, with me.”

you pout to tease, taking a step back as if trying to put some distance between the two of you, but he catches and fills the space. “you can’t just decide that for me.”

“i’m not deciding,” he replied, his voice softer now, yet filled with a calm authority. “i’m reminding you. you have me and i’m not going to let you walk away from that.”

a part of you wanted to argue, to push back harder, but another part, the part that had always known this man in front of you, found him irresistible.

you cleared your throat, trying to be stable. “well..aren’t you just a ray of sunshine?” you said, having teasing smile. “all this positivity is blinding.”

caleb’s lips quirked into a small, knowing grin. “you don’t seem too upset about it.”

“maybe cause i’m just used to you,” you shot back, stepping closer until you were mere inches from him, your breath mingling in the air between you. “though i do think you could use a little loosening up.”

his eyes darkened as he stared down at you, the playful challenge evident in his gaze. “oh?”

“yes,” your smile widens, feeling the familiar tension between you spark to life. “maybe it’s time i show you what happens when you’re not in control for once.” you tease again. you didn't know if you were teasing caleb just because you wanted to leave or because you couldn't deny him.

his expression didn’t change, if anything, it only deepened, a flicker of desire in his eyes as he still hovered you even while standing.

“pipsqueak.” he murmured, his voice a quiet growl as his hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer, his fingers pressing into your sides with just enough force to make you gasp.

“yes..caleb?” you teased, your heart racing as you tilted your head up to meet his gaze.

without another word, he leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both commanding and tender. his hands slid down to lift you up. you let out a soft gasp as he cleared the desk in a single movement. papers scattered to the floor in a careless motion, already forgotten.

he set you on his desk, his body close as he leaned over you, his breath hot against your ear. “you’re not leaving,” he whispered, his voice low and full of meaning.

you lock eyes with him, panting. “You’re really stubborn, you know that?”

“..and you love it,” he replied, his lips brushing against yours once more, the kiss deepening as his hands roamed to the buttons of your blouse.

his eyes look up at yours, his fingers gliding over the buttons of your blouse once more. "is this okay?" he asks, in a tone that reminded you of the caring caleb you once knew and learned to love for so long.

you nod, letting a slight flush roam your cheeks as he unbuttons your shirt. his eyes glances over each button being loose, his yearning and desires seeping through his expressions. in a shift motion, he brushes your blouse off your shoulders, leaving you with just a bra. caleb leans himself to plant tender kisses on your neck, leaning down towards your collarbone. the way he kissed your body was soft and loving. you really believe the old caleb is still in there.

as caleb continues to switch kissing your neck and your collarbone, he unclasps your bra, taking it off gently. he looks at your buds before taking one in his mouth and plays with the other, leaving you drown in ecstasy. caleb leads his lips a little above your swollen bud to suck and bite, leaving a red mark. he enjoyed the gasp you let out so he continues to leave more marks of his on both breasts, leaving you in a whimpering mess.

"mm.. caleb..", you wince.

he pauses, "mmh..i can't stop" he pants. "i need you now" he purred. you cup his cheeks, flushing at this point.

"then show me.." you cooed. he takes you up on that offer and steadily takes off the hem on your pants. he continues to slide down your pants and then your panties, throwing them to the side. you looks up and down at you, taking in every sight. "you're so beautiful.." he says. he continues his mission as he drags his hand down to your bare slit, never losing eye contact.

"fuck princess.. i barely touched you and you're already so wet" he teased with a grin. you squirm under his touch and felt his finger skim through your pussy lips, enjoying the wetness before rolling circles on your clit. you continue to squirm under his touch. you had used your arms to support your body on his desk but now he was practically plowing two fingers into you, all his touching led you lose balance so you decided to hold onto caleb's arms, feeling the fabric of his uniform. you kept moaning under his fingers while smelling his rich cologne. you missed that smell.

caleb continues to move his fingers against your walls, you clench him each time he moves himself up. his gaze softens, looking up at you. "you okay, princess?" he lowly says. your head and hands dig into his chest and muscles but you manage to whisper. "yes... please keep going caleb..". he nods and continues working his fingers, now not missing to aim your sweet spot. you throw your head back and your moans fill the air in his office as you slowly start to arrive your peak. at this point, you grind your hips, helping his fingers push into you more.

he captures your lips again in a sloppy kiss, his breath hitching and smooching noises echo the room after. he pulls away, "ugh..god, princess..." he groans. "mm not yet.." he teases, gaining his composure. "i'm not letting you cum yet" a devilish smirk appears in his face. he gently pulls his fingers out, leaving a low pop sound. he unbuckles his belt and unzips, freeing his erected cock. his tip already seeping with precum.

you lean your pelvis forward, you want him to take you already. you wanted to cum already. he pulls your legs to wrap around his waist, then grabs his heavy cock, making it hover over your wet begging cunt. he continues his teasing when he gives your erected clit taps.

"caleb...please" you pleaded him. letting him feel so in control. one of his secret fantasies was him taking power over you and to hear you beg him to fuck you. now he has his fantasy fulfilled.

you wiggle your hips, panting. "alright alright" he chuckles. " you've been such a good girl, taking my fingers. i guess ill give you what you want." he gently pushes his cock in, using your wetness as lubricant. you and him share a gasp at first contact.

"fuck.." he cries out. "you're so tight, princess" his hand continues to hold your waist while his other grips the edge of his desk, drowning himself in you. this was better than what he has envisioned. he leans down on your shoulder, pumping himself in and out of you. he could barely handle himself in front of the woman he's loved for his whole life. you arch your back, legs trembling at how big he was.

"oh caleb... caleb..." you continue to purr his name in his ears. hearing you gave him every right to continue pounding faster inside you, drowning himself in the wetness of your walls, also letting his cock give your cervix kisses.

"c-cum for me... on me..", he grunts, his voice hitching and his forehead showing a sweat. after a while, you felt yourself approaching. "caleb..m'im cumming..", with that announcement, your body tenses up as you cream on him, whimpering after every drop.

caleb sighs heavy at your ecstasy, enjoying every bit. this turns him on as he fastens his pace, almost near his end aswell. it wasn't long after till he also made his own announcement. “i-i’m gonna come,” caleb muttered, eyes squeezed shut, his pants getting heavy. now his grip on your hip and his desk hardens as he releases himself inside of your cunt, his thighs shook, his eyes rolled back in their sockets. he wanted to groan out his orgasm, but he suddenly remembered where they were, so he bit down on your shoulder, moaning quietly as he pulled out of your beautiful filled up pussy, spilling his some of his cum all over the tile floor.

He stood with his dick in his hand before zipping himself back up, trying to contain his composure, panting heavily, eyelids fluttering.

the air became still again, the quiet hum of the ship’s engines in the distance, a constant reminder of the void beyond these walls. caleb leaned forward, his forehead brushing against yours as you both caught your breath. his hands, once with a hard grip, now rested gently on your waist, his thumbs traced soothing circles over your skin.

as he lets you take a breath, caleb leaned back, his purple pinkish eyes scanning your face with a tenderness that left you breathless in an entirely different way. he unzips his uniform jacket, his movements deliberate and careful. “here,” he murmured, wrapping the jacket around your shoulders, giving you comforting look while covering you as much as he can. his jacket still lingered of his smell, something grounding and uniquely caleb. his fingers lingered at the edges, brushing lightly against your skin.

you looked up at him, your gaze softens and your body and heart still vulnerable. his eyes held a depth you hadn’t seen before, like he was memorizing every part of you, committing to never forget this eternal moment.

he leans down to press a delicate kiss to your temple, his lips lingering there for longer than necessary. when he pulled back, his voice was low and steady.

“you’re my everything,” he said softly, his hand caresses your cheek. “more than I deserve, more than I ever thought i’d have.”

your throat tightened, a lump forming as his words settled over you. you could a flush coming onto your cheeks once more.

he gave you a small, reassuring smile. “i’ll explain everything soon. you deserve that, at the very least. but for now…” he brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch impossibly gentle. “just know i’m here. i’m not going anywhere.”

you nodded, leaning into his touch as tears pricked your eyes, the emotion of the moment nearly overwhelming. caleb held you close, his arms wrapping around you as he whispered one final reassurance.

“you’re safe with me. always.”

[pathologicalreid]

heyyy!!! I just wanted to say I really love your work and this is my first time sending a request so sorry if it’s not very specific 😭💕

If you’re still doing requests, I was wondering if you could do a fem reader x Spencer Reid where it’s similar to your cryptic pregnancy one, except Spencer is at home with her when she’s in labour without realising, and she’s just in a lot of pain and it all of a sudden gets worse and she’s just in the bathroom shouting for Spencer, he comes in and eventually works out what’s going on, readers sort of in denial? Maybe the ambulance doesn’t get there in time so Spencer has to help her give birth? Lots of fluff and hurt/comfort :)

Also completely fine if your not comfortable doing it, but again really love your work and hope you have a great day 💕 :)

three's a family | S.R.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: cryptic pregnancy, traumatic birth, precipitous labor, hospitals, medical inaccuracy (its just me and google against the world), takes place after 9x7 "gatekeeper", surgery, near death experiences, periods, home birth word count: 3.16k a/n: anon i'll be so honest with u i wasn't sure if i was gonna write this but then i learned what precipitous labor was and i was like "i would not wish this on my worst enemy... i'm going to force it on y/n" BUT please keep in mind that there is a .000012 probability of this happening to you (i did the math) this is the wildest thing ive written to date i think

“I’m going to try a bath,” you murmured over to Spencer, wincing as you dragged yourself out of bed, walking at a turtle’s pace to the bathroom, hoping the warm water would soothe the cramps away.

Your period came and went as it pleased; it was just your luck that it decided to give you debilitating cramps on your one day off. Padding on the tile floor behind you, Spencer leaned against the doorframe to the bathroom, “I could run to the store and get a new heating pad.”

Sticking your hand under the tap to check the temperature, you plugged the drain once you found it to be satisfactory. You shook your head, “No, it’s fine.” Your original heating pad must’ve gotten lost somewhere in the depths of your storage closet, but you didn’t have the patience to look for it. You could manage just fine without it.

“Will you let me know if you need anything?” He asked, leaning forward to press a comforting kiss to your forehead.

Nodding, you hooked your thumbs in the waistband of your pajama pants and pulled them down, watching as Spencer pointedly flicked the bathroom fan on – something you often forgot to do.

You lasted about thirty minutes in the bath, not only was the water beginning to grow lukewarm, but if anything, your cramps were getting worse while submerged in the water. Grunting, you reached over and tugged the plug from the drain, watching as the water drained, you managed to pull yourself to a squat before you felt stuck.

Aunt Flo really had it out for you this month.

Burying your face in your hands you accepted defeat and called out for Spencer, reaching up and trying to stand again, but only succeeding in knocking over several shampoo bottles. “Spence!” You tried again, white-knuckling the edge of the bathtub as you bowed your head. A creeping feeling that this wasn’t your period was beginning to rise.

You listened as your husband made his way up the stairs, turning the corner into your room, and opening the door to the ensuite. Moving quickly, Spencer dropped to a crouch in front of you, cupping your pained face in his hands, “I don’t think this is your period, angel.”

Clamping your lips together to prevent yourself from crying out, you simply nodded in response. How awful was it that you were going to die, naked, in your bathtub?

Spencer wiped tears away from under your eyes – you hadn’t even realized you started crying. “What does it feel like, darling? What else could it be?” He asked, voice urgent but gentle as he tried to stop you from panicking.

As you shook your head, you couldn’t focus on anything else besides your breathing as another pain rose up through you. “It’s like a cramp, but with more pressure,” you said, depending on the bathtub and Spencer to keep you upright as your legs shook beneath you. “Like something’s pushing on me, kind of like I have to shit.”

Reaching behind him, Spencer dug through one of the drawers in the bathroom vanity before retrieving the handheld mirror that you used when you cut his hair. Before you could ask what he was doing, he placed the mirror at the bottom of the tub, just beneath you. “I think you’re in labor,” he announced, breaking the news to you.

“There’s no– fuck,” your voice broke off as you dropped your head onto Spencer’s shoulder, breathing through what was apparently a contraction. “I’m not pregnant,” you insisted as your symptoms started to make sense. You had been in labor all morning.

Nodding to himself, Spencer quickly kissed your cheek before standing up and making sure you were stable before stepping to the side.

You frowned as you looked up at him, “Where are you going?”

He didn’t go far, opening the linen closet and piling towels into his arms, “I’m getting towels to put in the tub beneath you, and then I’m going to call an ambulance.”

“You want me to give birth in our bathtub?” You asked, furrowing your brows quizzically before letting out a low whine as another contraction hit.

Stopping what he was doing, Spencer dropped down to you, running the flat of his palm up and down your back as he gently reminded you to breathe. “Did you want to change positions?”

Immediately, you shook your head. You already had an insurmountable task ahead of you and you saw no reason to add to that task by trying to move. “This is fine. Squatting is good, right?”

Nodding assuredly, Spencer smoothed your hair away from your face, “Gravity can help the baby descend the birth canal, and some people even say that the position can increase the pelvic diameter.”

While you were currently less concerned with the diameter of your pelvis and more concerned with feeling like your body was being split open, you continued going through the motions as he called for an ambulance, trying to explain the situation to the dispatcher.

“Have you been timing your contractions?” Spencer asked, tilting his head at you curiously as the dispatcher spoke on the phone.

Releasing a groan, you gripped the ledge of the tub, “I didn’t know they were contractions!”

Relaying that information over the phone, Spencer dropped to his knees in front of you, “Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll take care of it.” He continued to reassure you, taking one look at your desperate expression before ending the call with the dispatcher.

He understood that you were vulnerable right now, and you didn’t want that broadcasted to a stranger on the phone. If you weren’t so preoccupied with remembering to breathe, you’d be more grateful. After a contraction ebbed away, Spencer stood up.

“I have to go unlock the door for the paramedics,” he told you, keeping a wary eye on you. “I’ll be right back,” he comforted you as he took one last look at you before tearing out of the bathroom.

In record speed, he returned to the bathroom as promised, “It’s bad,” you cried, the pressure on your pelvis becoming insufferable.

Crouching in front of you, Spencer studied your face before he spoke carefully, “I have to check your cervix.”

Despite his carefully chosen words, your lips still parted in shock, “You have to what?”

“I’ll use my hand to measure how dilated you are, and then… we’ll go from there,” he told you, nodding almost imperceptibly. At this point, you weren’t sure who he was trying to reassure – you or him. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” you answered instantly, “indefinitely.”

You bit down on your lip as you let Spencer check you, understanding entirely why people choose to get epidurals – this was horribly uncomfortable. “On the next contraction, you need to push, okay?”

For just a moment, your breathing faltered as your scared eyes met his, “Spence, wait,” you pleaded.

Smoothing your hair back, your husband did everything he could to comfort you, “What is it, love?” He asked, his voice soft.

“I’m scared,” you confessed, voice cracking ever so slightly as tears flooded your lash line.

He leaned forward to gently kiss your lips before pulling away to press his forehead to yours, "I've got you. You're going to be fine. You're both going to be fine."

You could see his carotid pounding, and somehow the fact that he was secretly as scared as you was more comforting than the words that came from his mouth. As you pushed, you focused on everything that Spencer was saying instead of the pain. Don’t push for more than eight seconds. Remember to breathe. Your body will know what to do. I love you. I love you. I love you.

By the time Spencer was saying something about the head, your hearing had gone muffled. “You’re doing so well, baby,” you made out his voice and nodded dazedly. “You’re wonderful. I’m so proud of you – just a little more,” he cajoled.

Taking a moment to breathe, your ears and eyes focused as shaky breaths filled your lungs.

“I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful,” he murmured, dropping a kiss on your bare shoulder as he comforted you, continuing to keep you upright.

You shook your head, sniffling as your eyes screwed shut, “You’re perfect. Don’t stop. Keep talking,” you begged, needing something to focus on other than the pain.

“There’s about a point zero four percent chance of you getting pregnant and not finding out until you’re in labor,” he told you, hoping that the information would help you wrap your head around what was happening to you. “One to three in one hundred people have a precipitous labor,” he continued to speak as you pushed, and you wondered what the odds of you squeezing his hand so hard that you did damage were.

Against your better judgment, you looked down to check your progress, “Holy fuck,” you said breathlessly. You weren’t entirely clueless, you knew that once you got past the shoulders the remaining pushes would be easier. You also found yourself grateful that Spencer knew what he was doing – this was, after all, the second baby he had delivered.

You bore down, determined to get the baby out while Spencer untangled your hands, bringing his own down to catch the baby. Out of breath, you panted heavily as you started to feel lightheaded. “Done,” Spencer said quickly, “it’s done. I have him.”

Carefully, Spencer held the baby along the length of his forearm, rubbing the tiny newborn’s back. “Come on, come on, come on,” he muttered under his breath, and it dawned on you that the baby wasn’t crying.

At the realization, your legs finally gave out from beneath you, watching with wide eyes as Spencer tried to clear your son’s lungs. White hot tears streamed down your face as you whispered, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You took a gasping breath as you silently pleaded for a cry, “I didn’t know,” you sobbed, guilt building a pit in your stomach.

With bleary eyes, you looked on as the baby finally spluttered and let out a wail. “There you go,” Spencer cooed softly, his own voice stiff with emotion as he cradled the baby and handed him off to you.

You were still sobbing as you held the baby to your chest, “I’m so sorry,” you continued to babble, watching as Spencer briefly disappeared into the bedroom before returning with a blanket and wrapping it around the both of you. While holding the baby, your vision started to blur around the edges.

Watching you intently, Spencer cupped your face in his hands, “I love you.”

Nodding, your face crumpled before you responded, “I love you too.”

When the paramedics announced themselves, Spencer called out for them, not wanting to leave your side. The two of you focused your attention on the wriggling baby in your arms.

He was premature – too little to stay with you in the recovery room. The NICU doctor had estimated that he was born at approximately 32 weeks, meaning he’d likely need to spend a few weeks in intensive care. “I want to see him,” you said insistently, looking over as Spencer as he fussed over you.

“You just had abdominal surgery,” Spencer responded simply, as if that was meant to clarify everything for you. He continued fluffing your pillow, which wasn’t entirely productive considering you were lying on the pillow.

As it turned out, you had experienced what was called a precipitous birth, or a rapid birth. It tended to be dangerous, and the fact that you did it in your bathtub only heightened that danger. You reached your arm out for Spencer, “c’mere,” you muttered, trying to get him to stop fretting. “Did you listen to anything that the doctor just said?”

Spencer nodded in understanding, “Lots of rest, no physical exertion, IV medication for now-“

“Did you hear the part where he said I was going to be okay?” You asked, raising your eyebrows at him curiously, you watched as he took your hand in his and sat on the edge of your bed. “I’m going to be fine,” your voice was determined, you had a few small incisions on your abdomen from the surgery to repair a tear in your uterus. “Thank you for looking after me,” you whispered.

Your husband gently smoothed your hair back from your face, “I should’ve noticed it sooner.”

Using all of your strength, you squeezed his hand comfortingly, “You were incredible,” you assured him. “If it weren’t for you, neither of us would’ve made it.”

He shook his head, “Don’t say that.”

Raising your eyebrows, you cocked your head to the side, “It’s true. I couldn’t have done it on my own, I’m so, so thankful for you, my love.” 

You had passed out in the ambulance as a direct result of blood loss, so you were brought to a trauma bay as soon as you made it to the hospital. Once they were in the ER, the baby was taken to the NICU, leaving Spencer with a lot of decisions to make.

When you woke up in the recovery room, the first thing you did was ask about the baby.

Spencer, of course, had been up to see him. The nurses claimed he seemed like a fighter, and Spencer knew the survival odds of a 32-weeker, so he turned his attention to you. Every other option had already failed, so the next option was a laparoscopy. Your husband admitted that while it seemed extreme, the very last choice was a hysterectomy, and he didn’t want to make that decision.

Furrowing your brows, “When can I see the baby?” You asked, not entirely sure how to refer to the infant just yet. It wasn’t until then that you realized you needed to name him at some point – your son.

“Once your blood pressure goes up,” Spencer told you with an authoritative tone. “You lost a lot of blood in the ambulance, but the blood transfusions will bring your blood pressure back up.”

Tilting your head to the side, you glared at your husband, “And is this rule from a doctor with a medical degree or a doctor whose name is on my marriage certificate?”

In response, Spencer shrugged, sitting in the beige armchair at the side of your bed, “That’s a secret I’ll never tell.”

You rolled your eyes dismissively, “Will you go see him?”

He leaned over the edge of your bed, taking your hand in his. “I can, will you be alright on your own?”

Nodding almost imperceptibly, you squeezed his hand affectionately, “I just don’t want him to be alone.” You whispered as tears pricked your eyes, you took your free hand and waved at your face, “god, what’s wrong with me?”

“A sudden drop of estrogen and progesterone immediately following birth causes mood swings. Nothing is wrong with you, your body is acting naturally,” Spencer explained patiently, dropping a gentle kiss on your lips.

You sighed before melting back into your pillows, “At least something about this feels natural,” you responded. Your brain felt like a spinning top, while your body felt like you were being weighed down by an elephant in a commercial for COPD medication.

The fact that the NICU nurse informed you that your son had a ninety-five percent chance of living a completely normal life did nothing to calm your nerves. He’d have to stay in the NICU for a few weeks and you tried to convince yourself that the extra time to prepare for him to come home would be good for you, but the idea of leaving him alone at the hospital – save for a small army of doctors and nurses – put a pit of dread in your chest.

Spencer had the forethought to warn you about the tubes and wires that he was hooked up to, ranging from oxygen to a feeding tube. “He’s been undergoing red light therapy to be treated for jaundice, but you can hold him for a while if you want to,” the nurse told you, leading the both of you through the NICU as Spencer steered your wheelchair through the hospital.

Your breathing hitched when you finally saw him, this tiny stowaway that had been growing inside of you for the last several months, and he was just so little. While you were still in your own room, you had convinced yourself that you’d hold him, but now you weren’t so convinced.

According to the sign in his room, he weighed three pounds and ten ounces and was sixteen inches long. He was sound asleep in an incubator, a small hat on top of his head, “Spence,” you breathed.

Behind you, your husband placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, “I know.”

“Did you want to hold him?” The nurse asked you gently, looking over at one of the machines that he was hooked up to.

Genuinely, you didn’t know. “Is… is that okay?” You asked, wiping your sweaty palms on the blanket draped across your legs.

The nurse gave you a knowing look, “Even better than okay, it’ll be good for him to have that kind of contact from both of his parents.”

Frowning, you watched as it took two nurses to break him out of his acrylic prison before they carefully placed him on your chest, making sure you were okay before they stepped back. Your movements were stiff at first, you had never held a baby this small before, but you eventually remembered to breathe and gently cooed at the baby in your arms.

Spencer crouched down next to you and started to ask the nurse a bunch of questions that he had likely been holding in for hours, but you just kept your eyes on the sleeping baby. He was too small to open his eyes, but everyone assured you that he’d get there.

The nurse stepped out to give you some privacy, leaving the door open just in case you needed something, “This doesn’t seem quite as difficult while I’m holding him.” You knew there was a steep learning curve ahead, but with a newborn on your chest, the pit in your heart dissipated.

“That’s called oxytocin,” Spencer said, sitting in a chair, eyes fixated on the infant in your arms.

Humming, you skimmed the pad of your thumb across your son’s tiny back, “He looks like you,” you observed quietly, they had the same nose.

Your husband smiled softly, “You can’t possibly tell which parent he takes after yet,” he informed you.

“And yet, I know he looks like you,” you insisted softly, and Spencer didn’t push back. “You look like your daddy,” you whispered to the baby, “he was the first one to hold you, you know?” You looked over at Spencer, “he’s been my superhero for four years, and now he gets to be yours too.”

[kasagia]

Right hand III

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!exBeneGesserit! reader Summary: After Feyd learns the truth about your dark past, you do everything in your power to prove your loyalty to him. He has many ideas for this... but will your life be able to go back to normal after that? You will either die at his hands, be exiled, return to the Bene Gesseit, or live by his side. And you yourself don't even know which of these options is worse... Warning: 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; fight; brutality; smut; Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ PART II ~•♤♤♤•~ PART IV ~•♤♤♤•~

His dagger digs lightly into your neck, blood slowly trickling down it. You don't try to fight him, you don't push the blade away or try to rip it out of his hand. You know that if you did, you would have been killed by him long ago.

You had to play it smart… and fast—before he slit your throat, which was becoming a more likely scenario with every second.

"Feyd…" You choke out once more, trying to make him look you in the eyes and get him to listen to you. The blood is seeping out of you faster and faster as he presses the blade harder against your throat.

"Silience, witch! You little plague, bane of my existence, poisonous viper, how long have you been playing with me? How long have you been faking all this? Did you think you could outsmart me? That you can deceive me? Make fun of me? Humiliate me? I should fuck you raw, use you like a whore, and leave you in your ridiculous sisterhood to rot with those old hags!" He shouts, pressing his blade harder against your throat. The cool steel of the metal on your skin is becoming a more serious threat to your life. You shiver as you feel him taking more blood from you.

"Feyd, listen…" You try to speak again, placing your hand on his wrist. He pushes your hand away as if it posed a radioactive threat greater than anything floating in Giedi Prime's atmosphere and glares at you furiously.

"NO! You lied to me. You betrayed me. You know how I punish people for disloyalty. You're lucky that I won't throw you to my soldiers so they can play with you before I give you to my harpies. But don't worry, I will take very good care of you. You'll die like those cowardly rats you helped me kill a few hours ago…"

"You... you would... kill me... if I told you... at the beginning..." You gasp as he grabs your neck tightly and drags his blade down your body, creating a trail of blood leading to your collarbone.

"I will kill you now." He growls hoarsely, completely cutting off the air from your respiratory tract.

Your eyes widen as he lifts you off the ground so that only your toes touch the floor. Tears well up in your eyes as you desperately try to draw in air, but his hand is wrapped too tightly around your neck for the oxygen to reach your lungs.

When you realised that it was over and that he had decided on your death, the moment that Lady Jessica told him the whole truth about you, you relaxed. You let a blissful emptiness wash over you as you slowly waited for him to take your life away. You close your eyes, rest your head against the wall behind you, and let your body slowly go limp as the seconds pass without air.

You gasp, surprised, as the grip on your neck loosens so that you can take small, ragged breaths. You quickly take advantage of the opportunity and take a few shaky breaths. You open your eyes, staring into Feyd's icy blue and furious gaze in utter shock.

Was he going to play with you before he killed you? Torture, like many before you, until he finds in himself some mercy and takes your life? Because if you know one thing, it's that you won't beg him to let you go. About nothing. Never. You were too proud to do so.

"Fight." He growls, pressing you harder against the wall. He leans forward, bringing his face very close to yours. You shiver, feeling his breath on your cheek as he carefully observes your reaction to his intimidation. Like a snake waiting for the right moment to attack.

"What?" You ask stupidly, not understanding what he is doing. You've often watched him play with his victims, prolonging their suffering and giving them no hope of escaping his grip... so why does he want you to fight? Why does he want you to resist him? Was this another sick game of his?

"Fight! Scream! Struggle! Why are you not doing anything?! Why don't you beg for your miserable life, Bene Gesserit's spy?! Fight with me! Fight back! FIGHT BACK!!" He screams and throws you against the wall.

Completely unprepared for him to completely release you from his grip, you fall to the floor, too weak to keep your balance on your own. You place your hands on the black metal sheet beneath you and breathe quickly, trying to get as much air as possible before he wraps his hand around your throat again.

"I… I was always… loyal… to you…" You gasp, still trying to recover from what just happened. He walks slowly towards you. He presses the tip of his sword under your chin and forces you to lift your head and look him in the eyes.

“You have five minutes before I treat you like I treat your mentor. Use this time well. I can always get bored and kill you faster.” He takes a step back and slowly slides the blade across your skin. He steps away from you to pour himself a drink, but he keeps watching you out of the corner of his eye. You take one brief glance at Lady Jessica's body before you can compose yourself enough to formulate any logical response.

"I... I have no idea what she told you. Where she lied and where it was convenient for her to tell the truth... but whatever she told you I did... she surely doesn't know the one, most important thing. She doesn't know the reason for my actions."

"Oh, but I do. You wanted to run away from them so you wouldn't have to breed with such a monster as me. You thought that as my right hand, you would be safe, that I wouldn't notice you in the shadows, that I wouldn't want you, and that I wouldn't touch you. But I did. And by doing so, I destroyed your plans. Tell me, how many times have you escaped from Giedi Prime in your fantasies? How many times have you wanted to leave for good?"

With each question he asks, he takes a step towards you, which makes him stand in front of you again. But you didn't get up from the floor. You didn't feel like it. Besides, you doubted he would let you stand up and be on an equal level with him. He needed to feel in control, to feel that he is still dominating over you—that he didn't lose control over you despite your... betrayal. Although you didn't think it was any kind of betrayal at all. A slight omission of a few facts. Nothing more.

"I... you can't blame me for that. Anyone with survival instincts would not willingly live on Giedi Prime. But I stayed." You decide to tell him some of the truth this time. For too long, you managed to play your cards well. You had to bend a little to his will without losing your claw and not behaving like an obedient concubine, wanting to fulfil all his orders and wishes, because that would make him more suspicious, and he would definitely kill you for trying to deceive him and lie to him again.

"You stayed out of fear." He questions your words, keeping his watchful, piercing gaze on you as he tries to find in you any trace of lying.

You almost shiver under the furious gaze of his icy blue eyes. Fortunately, you manage to refrain from showing him any reaction. The metallic scent of Lady Jessica's blood motivated you to survive like nothing had before. You somehow manage to recall some of your lessons and training sessions with her as you think about how to respond to Feyd's words. Maybe her methods and rules didn't keep her alive, but unlike her, you knew Feyda-Rautha too damn well. You could get out of this. You just had to play it smart and sacrifice a few things…

"Out of loyalty to you. Sense of duty and honor. Something I thought we both shared." You say confidently, meeting his gaze bravely.

However, your attitude does not impress him at all. He lazily turns the dagger in his hands, playing with the sharp blade. He doesn't take his eyes off you, even for a moment. He just stands there, maintaining a completely calm and unruffled demeanor. It's hard to imagine now that just a moment ago, this man was overcome with the greatest anger of his entire life. You've seen him in many states, but you have never seen him that mad. Rabban may have been called a beast by others, but the real threat was his younger brother. Especially when his first anger was over and it was time for the cold calculation of revenge.

“Was that loyalty and sense of duty also present in you when you chose to ignore the fact that you were supposed to be mine? That you are destined to give me an heir so strong that the whole world will kneel before him?” This time, you can't help but shudder. He notices this and chuckles darkly, shaking his head. In a split second, the tip of his blade is once again pressed on the thin and delicate skin of your throat. You swallow, and when you meet his gaze, you realise that you have to tell the truth if you don't want to die on your knees in front of him.

"If your uncle told you to marry me and have your offspring with me, would you do it?" A frown appears on his forehead at the mere mention of the baron. His hand trembles slightly as a new wave of rage washes over him.

"What does he have to do with this?" He asks hoarsely, as he suspects you of working with his uncle. After all, you were smart enough to play both sides.

Feyd wouldn't be surprised if you reported everything he was doing to his uncle behind his back. That's why he preferred having you—a cunning, beautiful witch who was now kneeling before him—by his side. Because you were drop-dead perfect. He never expected you to make such a stupid mistake. To ever let him gain even the slightest doubt about your loyalty.

"Nothing. But the Bene Gesserit were to me what your uncle is to you. And after running away from them, the last thing I wanted to do was follow the last sick order they gave me." The years you spent with him gave you enough information about the family relationship at House Harkonnen.

They are like predators waiting for the right moment to attack, always prepared to hurt the other one when he shows even a tiny glimmer of weakness. You also know Feyd's past... or rather, the history of scars on his back. Unfortunately, these were not the only marks the baron left on him.

You hold your breath as he grabs your hair and pulls you up. You get up on your feet, and, being on an equal level with him, you no longer hesitate to look him in the eye. He releases your hair with the other, only to move it to your cheek and neck. He rubs tiny droplets of blood across yours, shifting his attention to your skin. He caresses your jawline with his finger and suddenly tilts your head back, giving himself a better view of your reddened throat, which has begun to form bruises in the shape of his fingers from how he choked you just moments ago. You swallow, watching him closely.

"And yet you served me for many years. You stayed with me after they wanted to link your future with mine. Why?"

“I was hoping the last place they would look for me would be Giedi Prime by your side. And that… after all, you won't be interested in me.”

"But I was. This must have spoiled your plans, right?"

"A little." You confess, hoping to gain something from your honesty.

After your words, there is a long silence in the room. He removes his hand from you, staring intently at you as he considers your words. You wait in suspense and anticipation for his next decision.

One quick move was enough to take your life.

And from the look in his eyes, you know it must have been tempting for him to add your blood to Lady Jessica's, which was already staining the floor of the ship.

"On your knees." His command is so sudden that it takes you a moment for your brain to process what he said.

All you can do is stare at him blankly, your heart beating with excitement and terror at the thought of his words. He didn't want to… he couldn't now… You look down at his pants and swallow, seeing the slight bulge. You hold your breath as he takes a step towards you and presses his hard length against your thigh, which undoubtedly confirms your suspicions. He lifts your chin with two fingers, forcing you to look into his eyes as you blush and realise what he is asking you to do.

"I love your doe eyes, my pet, but there's a time and a place for everything. On your knees or your heart will become another decoration of my chambers." He says it huskily, caressing your chin before letting go. He stares at you expectantly, waiting for your next move.

You swallow again, feeling a huge lump in your throat. Your mind is racing, but you know, as he does, that you have no escape. Your position is hopeless; you can either give him a blowjob or die, and you don't want to do any of it. Or touch him in any way after he disembowelled Lady Jessica in front of you. But the prospect of being his next victim reluctantly brings you to your knees before him.

"Good girl." He hums, tilting your chin slightly so you're looking at him and not the floor between you. He takes a step towards you and attaches the dagger to his arm. "Show me that your beautiful, deceptive, tempting lips, throat, and larynx can do more than feed me with sweet lies, and maybe I won't cut them out of you."

You hold your breath, your eyes trailing down to his pants. You hear him chuckle darkly before he takes your hands in his and places them on the fastenings of his pants, guiding your hands as you gradually free his length from his armour.

You swallow again at the sight of his full, hard length and curse him, as the rumours about him do not lie at all. He was enormous. Long and not too thick, but not thin either. You don't know if you'd rather he tried to cut your throat with a knife than pierce it with what stood proud between you.

"Rumours say you know how to do it. I don't remember how many soldiers I killed for the privilege of having your body before me. But each of them shared one opinion. Your fire burns as bright in battle as it does in the bedroom. Show me, my little witch, how much you care about continuing to be my right hand and having all the privileges you had." He encourages you mockingly when you stare at his slightly pre-cum-dripping cock for too long for his liking. But damn, his cum was black. You were sure as hell that the bastard was going to paint you with it.

You give him an angry, cold glare as you wrap your hand around his length. He lets out a soft moan, grabbing your jaw to make sure you keep your eyes on his. You swallow, stroking his length with slow movements of your hand as he gets even harder. Part of you is glad that he wants you to look at him. You doubt you could keep your composure if you had to look at what you had to fit in your mouth… and hopefully only in your mouth.

He growls when you drag out the inevitable too long, using only your hands on him. You can see that he likes what you're doing, but the impatience radiating from him makes you realise that it won't end with just a few caresses of your hands around his length.

Reluctantly, you lean down and wrap your lips around his tip, sucking him gently—like candy. You taste his pre-cum on your tongue, surprisingly taking in its… not-so-horrible taste. It's bittersweet on your tongue and thick. You shudder at the thought of what he would feel like inside you.

He groans, burring his hands in your hair as he gently pushes you on him to make you take more of his cock into your mouth. You choke as his length suddenly hits the back of your throat. Surprisingly, he stops pushing you and just keeps his hands in your hair, letting you adjust to his full length.

"I've always liked your hair..." He starts tugging on them to correct your rhythm. "A natural leash for my beautiful, dangerous pet..."

You growl around him in anger at his words. He groans throatily, feeling his cock twitch in your mouth at the extra stimulation he got from you. You feel tears slowly begin to well up in your eyes as he allows himself to move his hips more and more, lazily thrusting into your throat. Your saliva mixes with his pre-cum, staining the corners of your mouth.

It amazes you how gentle he is with you. How he doesn't push you too far so as not to cause you the pain you know he loves to enjoy. More than once, you had to call the medic to his concubines. Even his harpies occasionally got injured when he used them for his pleasure after a particularly exciting fight. You knew how… he could get lost in his pleasure. Yet he was extremely careful with you.

He starts thrusting into your throat faster and faster, guiding your head by your hair in time with his thrusts. You let your tears fall as he picked up a pace you couldn't keep up with. You close your eyes and feel a tear roll down your cheek. You open them, meeting his gaze, when you feel his thumb brush away your falling tear. He licked it off his finger, purring at its salty flavour.

You wrap your hands around his balls, massaging them in a circular motion, trying to make him come as quickly as possible. He laughs throatily, pounding stupidly into your mouth. Your jaw starts to hurt. You prop yourself up on his thigh with one hand, unable to stay on your knees for long on your own.

Seeing that you're having difficulty, he slows down a little, lazily digging into your throat. He luxuriated in the warmth of your mouth, and your tongue caressed his length. His gaze never falters, as he maintains eye contact with you the entire time. He strokes your cheek with his hand, then moves to your throat as he gently uses his fingertips to feel the bulge in your throat caused by his cock.

"I'll take you. Fast and hard. You'll cry as beautifully as you do now and writhe beneath me desperately, trying to escape like always, but you'll be so impaled on my cock and wrapped in the tight embrace of my arms that you won't move a fucking millimetre without my permission. I will fuck into you our Kwisatz Haderach, so no one will ever doubt that it should have been otherwise, that you don't belong with me. And the best of all is that you will not know the damn day or hour when it will happen. You will learn how to be my whore and baroness, just like you learned how to be my right hand. You'll do great, my little witch. You prove very well with your mouth and hands what a wonderful right hand you are. Much better than my own fucking hand. Much better than any of the fantasies I had. My little witch, always attending to my every need. Only fucking mine."

He moans, speeding up drastically, chasing his peak. You feel him getting closer to his orgasm as he becomes impossibly harder in your mouth and his balls tighten, ready to release his black cum. He keeps making you look at him until he growls loudly, coming into your mouth.

Earlier, you were gagging with just his length in your mouth. Now you really choke as his seed spills down your throat. He presses you against him, your nose brushing against his pubic bone, making you swallow all of his cum until it's completely inside you. Its taste is pungent, reminding you of a spicy, bitter spice.

He stays in your mouth for a while after he finishes pouring into you. He massages your scalp with his hands, clearly not wanting to release you. His cock twitches slightly, and you fear he's about to give you a second round.

He sighs, reluctantly pulling out of your mouth. He grabs your hands and guides them to his pants. You cleaned him and put him back in his pants without saying a word. You are not even looking into his eyes, knowing full well that a satisfied smile will spread across his lips the moment you do.

He grabs your arms and lifts you off your knees. You shiver, unable to stay on your two feet after being on your knees for so long, and you fall into his arms, leaning completely against him. He laughs huskily, pulling you closer to his chest. He uses his fingertip to collect the last of your saliva and his cum from the corners of your mouth and pushes his fingers into your mouth. You suck on them, meeting his eyes with your defiant, angry gaze.

He hums, smiling darkly as he watches with satisfaction as you lick his fingers. He leans forward, his nose brushing your cheek as he licks from your face and then from your neck the droplets of his black cum that leaked from your mouth as you tried to swallow everything he poured into you. You shiver as his tongue caresses the skin of your neck, tracing the small, sealed wound he inflicted on you with his dagger. He hums against your neck, disappointed at how quickly your blood clots.

Suddenly, he lets you completely go. You can barely keep your balance as he walks away from you.

"If that Atreides' bitch survived, so did her pathetic puppy. Send a message to our people in the desert. Paul Atredis is alive. We have to kill him before he and the rebels start a revolt and destroy our plans. Clean up here too. Tomorrow we have half a tribe of these rats to interrogate."

You nod dumbly, trying to understand what the hell just happened. Just a few hours ago, you were afraid for your life, and now that you... have pleased him, he acts like nothing has happened. You come to the conclusion that it bothered you more than when he pressed his blade against your throat.

"Ah, and Y/N." He says, stopping at the door and turning to look at you one last time before leaving the room. You can tell by the mischievous smile on his lips that he has nothing good planned for you. "I want to see you in my chambers tonight."

He doesn't wait for your reaction or response. He just walks out with a springy, energetic step, closing the door behind him with a bang.

You shiver as you find yourself alone in the room with Lady Jessica's corpse. You look around, and, in a desperate attempt to find some positives, you decide that at least your blood isn't staining the floor of the ship... or at least not yet.

His chambers in the main base on Arrakis are not as... ornately terrifying as those he had in Giedi Prime. You wouldn't guess that someone important lived there. It was an ordinary room with a bed, a chest of drawers, and a bathroom. No amenities, just a commander's room; definitely too poor for a na-baron.

You shiver as you feel his hand on your hip. He pulls you to his chest, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his nose in your hair. He sighs, inhaling your scent. The warm air on your neck is tickling you gently. You think about how it's been too easy for him to sneak up on you lately. You've gone out of shape.

"Are you planning how to escape, little witch?" He whispers hoarsely, playing with the fabric of your nightgown.

"I didn't. And believe me, I had better opportunities in the past. So why would I escape now?" You answer his question with your own one, irritated by his suspicions.

"Because unlike me, you are very reluctant to welcome our Kwisatz Haderach into this world." You roll your eyes at his words and turn your head to give him an annoyed look. He shrugs with a smirk. He presses a kiss on the bare skin of your shoulder before resting his chin on it. "You're obviously trying to distance yourself from me, too." He adds, seeing the irritated frown on your forehead.

“Weren't you the one who thought the Bene Gesserit prophecies were just bullshit from stoned old women?” You ask, raising your eyebrows in challenge.

"I did… but this particular one seems very convincing..." He purrs into your neck. He moves one hand from your hip so his finger can trace the red line of the wound he gave you with the dagger. He tilted your head back, forcing you to rest your head on his shoulder as he placed a trail of kisses on the small scar.

"Where are your harpies?" You ask when he starts showing too much interest in your neck, peppering it with kisses.

"Should I call them? Would you like them to join us?" You wrinkle your nose, at which he laughs, amused, tightening his hold on you.

"Of course not. You know that I have... no sympathy for them." You grumble, trying to break free from his grip, which, of course, he won't let you.

"The feeling is mutual. You know, they think you're stealing me from them. And that I will quickly get bored with you, like with other... oriental pets I had, and I will come back to them."

"What are you waiting for, then?" You ask, raising an eyebrow at him. He chuckles darkly, shaking his head. His hand plays with the strap of your black sleep gown, gently stroking your bare skin. He leans down, nuzzling your temple, and whispers in your ear:

“The problem is, my dear little witch, that you have taken over every ounce of my thoughts. My dreams, my nights, my days… it seems only right that I get back the time I wasted dreaming about you, right?”

You shiver, both from his words and from the way his hand slides over your body like a snake. He strokes your breasts, taking a moment to focus on them before his hand rests on your hips again. He presses you against him, clinging to you like a second skin.

"Let's go to bed. It was a very long day. For both of us..." He says, directing you towards his bed. You resist him slightly by digging your heels into the floor, but he quickly counters this by lifting you up gently, leaving your feet dangling in the air.

"Wouldn't you rather sleep alone? It's pretty warm here." You try to get out of it one last time, feeling the soft silk of his black sheets beneath you as he gently places you on his bed. He laughs mockingly, amused by your poor attempt at escape.

"Not at night. You know that well. I'd rather keep an eye on you, little witch. We don't know what monsters may be lurking in the darkness of Arrakis after we killed the Reverend Mother of those rats." He purrs, laying down next to you. You sigh as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer to him, knowing full well that your safety is the last thing he's worried about right now.

"If Paul Atreides survived, it is very likely that he could be Muad'Dib. He will come here. To avenge his mother and unborn sister." You warned him. You're trying to make this situation more… normal. Lying in his bed and in his arms wasn't the least bit normal for you, but making plans with him was. You needed to keep your mind occupied until you could fall asleep… if he let you fall asleep.

"You didn't stop me from killing her. You didn't say a word. Why? Were you afraid you'd be next?"

You shake your head. You're not going to tell him the whole truth about what you felt back then, but you know you can't lie to him. You have to tell him at least half the truth if you want to regain some of his trust... at least until you escape.

"Lady Jessica believed that Paul was the real Kwisatz Haderach, since she gave Duke Leto a son instead of a daughter. The Bene Gesserit resented her for this. She was supposed to give him a daughter. A daughter who was to marry you and give you a real Kwisatz Haderach. By disobeying their orders, she fell into their disfavour... until she gave them the idea that they might as well... fuse me with you to secure your bloodline. But the Bene Gesserit came up with the idea that I was going to be the mother of the Kwisatz Haderach. If I hadn't gone with you that night... I might as well have died at her hands. I… I guess I was glad that I survived her."

Not looking at his face helps you partially open up to him. You didn't like remembering your past. This was the one thing you had in common. You try your best to reveal as little to him as you have to, unconsciously tracing patterns in his hand as he keeps hugging you from behind. If you turned around, you would have seen his small smile at your gesture quickly disappear as he sensed the growing tension within you at the thought of Lady Jessica.

"If I had known, I would have made it more painful for her." He states, taking your hand in his and squeezing it. You look down at your joined hands and frown as he slowly strokes the skin of your hand with his thumb.

"Why?" You ask in a whisper, not moving an inch when he buries his nose in your hair.

"Because no one hurts what's mine."You snort, knowing full well the true meaning of his words. If you were just a naive young girl, you would believe in the good intentions behind these words. However, you know Feyd Rautha too well to naively believe that he won't break his favourite toys. He grabs your chin in a tight grip and turns you to face him. You swallow thickly as his intense gaze meets yours. You've never had the chance to look so closely at his icy blue eyes... "I want you by my side all the time. I need to make sure you're not planning anything behind my back, little witch."

"Haven't I proven my loyalty enough?" You ask, placing your hands on his bare chest and pushing yourself away from him gently. He chuckles darkly, letting go of your chin in a split second to grab your wrists in a tight grip. He lifts your hands, pushing them away from him and twisting them so you can't move them.

"I believe you are capable of doing much more." He murmurs against your throat, pressing kisses there and lazily sucking at your skin, which was already irritated by his dagger.

You squirm in his arms, trying to somehow protect your neck from his wandering lips. Your attempts fail, as you only give him more fun by grinding against him in a desperate attempt to escape.

Eventually, he gets bored and decides to let you go. He lets you turn your back on him again, but you don't get far. His arms wrap around you, holding you in a cage as he takes on the role of the big spoon.

"I will bring you the head of Atreides on a golden plate. There is only one Kwisatz Haderach—our future son. I won't let some dog from Caladan tell people otherwise." He whispers in your ear. You shiver, half-wishing you were stupid enough to believe in his devotion. The fact that someone can do anything you want for you. But it wasn't love. It was just an obsession. You had to remember that.

"Maybe he really is the one… or maybe it's all just nonsense made up by those old hags? Maybe there will be no Kwisatz Haderach at all? What's then?" He doesn't answer your questions. However, you manage to get some reaction out of him.

He pulls away from you, the bed creaking beneath him as you hear him turn over to his other side. The sudden chill of not having his body close to yours makes you shiver.

You find yourself regretting for a moment that whatever you said made him distance himself from you. You shake your head and sigh, sinking deeper into the pillows. You try to find the most comfortable position possible when settling down to sleep. But for some reason, you don't feel tired at all. Your eyes are wide open as you listen to his soft breathing, the only other sound in the empty room.

"How did you find out about… uncle?" His sudden question makes you turn towards him. He remains turned away from you, ignoring any movement from you. You think for a moment, staring at the scars scattered across his pale, muscular back, before answering him.

"I have eyes and ears. And enough brain cells to… deduce a few things." You whisper, tracing a particularly nasty-looking scar on his back with the pad of your thumb. "I also... I went through something similar. I've told you that before. Bene Gesserit was to me what your uncle is to you." He turns slowly to face you at your words. His eyes examine you so thoroughly that you feel another shiver run through your body.

This time, when he reaches out to cup your cheek, you don't fight him. You let him, trying to decipher the unreadable look in his eyes as he continues to consider your words.

"Tell me... how could I resist when you're like this? How could I ignore you and leave you in your shadows when everything you do fascinates me to a madness that only you can heal?" He asks, tracing the line of your lips with the pad of his thumb.

"You wanted to kill me today." You remind him in an accusatory tone. You bite the tip of his finger, which only brings a smirk to his face as he moves his hand away from your face. He places it on your hip, squeezing it in a silient warning.

"I wanted to scare you. You lied to me, so you needed some punishment. Besides, you know perfectly well that if I really wanted to kill you, you would already be dead."

"Not telling the whole truth is not a lie. Besides… your intentions don't make this situation any different to me." You huff, rolling your eyes. He laughs huskily, caressing your hip through the fabric of your nightgown as he moves closer to you on the bed. Your chest is pressed against his. Both of you are breathing steadily and slowly, staring intently into each other's eyes.

"Are you afraid of the little old me, my little witch?" He asks teasingly. You catch yourself watching the sparkle of amusement in his eyes shine surprisingly brightly under the light of the Arrakis moon. You can't make yourself turn your gaze off of him. And that's what terrifies you.

"Should I?" You ask in a whisper, trembling, not giving him an ounce of trust. Seeing your extremely distrustful and hostile attitude, he stops smiling. He looks at you more seriously, as he is deep into his thinking.

He doesn't respond to you. He places a kiss on your forehead and turns your back to him. He holds you tightly, buries his nose in your hair, and slowly falls asleep, wrapping himself in your warmth and scent. On your back, you feel his heart beating calmly in his strong, well-built chest. You allow yourself to sigh shakily, being finally 'alone' for the first time since this fateful day began.

And you realise that you're not afraid of him at all. The only person you are afraid of is yourself. That you would give in to your strange attraction to him one day and seal your fate. You didn't want to die. But you'd rather find yourself buried under the sands of Arrakis than let those Bene Gesserit witches control your life ever again.

"If you tear this, you'll be walking around with my hand around your throat." He warns you, seeing you struggling with the black leather choker around your neck he gave you. It looked like a fucking collar. And it was a bit too tight for you to feel comfortable in it.

"You give me so many options…" You snort sarcastically, leaving the damn choker around your neck. "I look like a fucking whore." You say and turn towards him to look at him carefully.

He wore his more formal black armour with a cape that was as dark as the rest of his outfit. He smiles sarcastically and walks over to you. He smoothes the fabric of your dress on your waist and places his hands on your hips.

"Whore? Not at all. More like my pet." He hums, trying to take in your form in a form-fitting black dress. The silver chains on your hips and chest connect into a spider's web that flows down with the fabric of the skirt of the dress, which surprisingly doesn't cling as tightly to your body as the bodice of the dress does.

It's... definitely a bolder outfit than you're used to wearing. And this time, your hair was loose. The maids put silver accessories and small diamond jewels into your hair. You were a nicely wrapped gift, especially prepared for the Na-Baron's birthday.

"What's the difference?" You ask, raising an eyebrow defiantly.

"Calm down, little witch. Rumours about your past spread quickly. We can't let people see me as a weak man who fell under the spell of a Bene Gesserit, can we?" He teases you. He leans towards you and nuzzles your cheek before his lips start to trace a path along your jaw to your neck. You sigh slightly and place your hands on his chest, trying to keep him at a distance.

"Please. Don't pretend you're not doing it for your own fucking satisfaction." You snap at him, still trying to push him away. He puts the dagger on your neck rather quickly and too suddenly, making you refrain from any form of protest for a moment as he decorates your neck with hickeys.

"I'm not even trying to deny it at all… you look stunning, by the way." He growls hoarsely. His blade moves from your neck to the top of your corset, pressing the tip against the valley between your breasts. You sigh, feeling the coolness of the blade against your chest.

"They are waiting for you." You whisper as he nuzzles his nose against yours.

"We have a moment... besides, it's my birthday. Don't you want to celebrate my adulthood?" His low tone of voice sends shivers down your spine. Even after he tosses his blade aside, you make no move to try to walk away from him.

"You're still acting like the horny teenager I met. I doubt you will ever grow up."

"Watch what you say… I can always show you how hornier I became." His warning is not just lip service. He shows it to you... very clearly as his hard length rubs against your thigh.

You grab his jaw tightly and take a step away from him. He laughs, grabbing your wrist and pulling you back into his arms in one quick movement. You gasp in shock, falling into his chest. You struggle in his embrace until he slaps your ass. You glare at him furiously, at which he only tightens his grip on you.

"I want you to paint my body before the fight." He mumbles, caressing your cheek as you try to pull your head back from him.

Leading members of the high houses gathered on Arrakis to celebrate his birthday and the fact that he had managed to restore the mining and export of spices to extraordinary levels.

Feyd was to put on a spectacle, killing the most dangerous Fremen who managed to be kept alive during interrogations. However, you and Feyd have bigger worries to take care of right now. Like the baron and the emperor. Or Paul Atreides... or rather, their Muad'dib, who has not been found by you yet. Something Feyd decided to ignore for now in favor of groping you and trying to get into your pants.

Over the last few weeks, he has clung to you like a limpet. It made it very difficult for you to do any work or spy, as he was literally following you around. You felt like his favourite dog on a leash, taken for walks around the building before locking you in his chambers for the night, keeping you close to him. Even his harpies couldn't take his attention away from you. Something you really hoped would happen soon.

"It's always been… your harpies' privilege." You say as he tangles his hand in your hair.

"And now I want you to do it." He says it calmly, caressing your cheek as you try to pull your head back from him. "Do you mind?" You huff at his condescending question.

"Don't ask me questions like that; otherwise, I'll start thinking that I really have a choice here." He laughs, showing you a set of his freshly painted black teeth and shakes his head at you.

"We both know you're too smart for that, my shrewd little witch." He says this and leans in, gently brushing your lips with his. He keeps a tight grip on your hair as his kiss becomes more intense and possessive. He tightens his grip on your waist, tugging at the fabric of your dress, causing the silver chains on it to clang against each other with every move of his hand.

His hand reaches for the strings of your corset at the back, but before he can untie even one of them, there's a knock on the door.

"My Lord Na-Baron, the Baron, and your brother have just landed on Arrakis. The emperor should also be arriving soon."

You feel him tense slightly as he pulls away from you. His face hardens as he puts on his emotionless mask, staring out the window, where he could probably see the ship landing.

"Come on, little witch. I don't need to remind you to be on your best behaviour, right?" You roll your eyes at him, placing your hand in the crook of his elbow.

"I think I can play your concubine for a day. Consider this my birthday gift to you, my Na-Baron." You say it sarcastically and sweetly, walking with him out of his room and towards the great hall where he would greet everyone gathered. If you were lucky enough, you might be able to escape from him for a moment or two...

"In my chambers as well?" He asks teasingly, and out of the corner of your eye, you see him trying not to smile, but the corner of his lip twitches, giving him away (at least to you).

"Anywhere but there." You reply quickly, making him smile this time. At least for a second. After all, he has a reputation to uphold.

"That's okay. We don't need to do it there. There are so many other places…" He whispers hoarsely in your ear before you enter the room where the first party is to be held. You can't stop a cold shiver from running down your spine.

Doors are opening for you. You wait for him to let go of your waist and move in front of you like he usually does at these types of parties with the concubines he brought for company, but he doesn't do that at all. Instead, he tightens his grip on your waist and holds you by his side as he navigates through the sea of people. You can't help but blush slightly.

If you had any doubts over the last few weeks that he was no longer interested in you, they were gone with his small gesture. He will indeed ruin you. As soon as he finds the opportunity suitable. You were afraid that the evening of his birthday might be considered in his eyes as a perfect time to do this.

But somehow you manage to get out of his sight. You position yourself against the wall, having a perfect view of the most important people in the room. The Baron and Feyd were talking about something with the Emperor and his daughter. You look at them curiously, especially since the Harkonnens have their backs turned to you. And looking at Princess Irulan in a silver dress that was constructed to resemble armour, you see in her your chance for freedom. If Feyd married her, he would probably get over his strange obsession with you.

"Lady Y/N." Feyd's older brother's mocking greeting reaches your ears. You turn to him, taking your eyes off Feyd for a moment, and nod to the man standing next to you.

"Count Rabban."

"I heard you and my brother dealt with the rats of Arrakis. My congratulations." You are quite wary of his civilised attitude. The last time you saw him, Feyd made him kiss his shoes. And yours. So you definitely didn't stay in... a neutral relationship after that.

"Na-Baron is a great commander." You reply with a polite smile. Your eyes involuntarily wander to Feyd. There's a knot in your stomach when you see him talking to the princess. You frown, wondering what the hell is wrong with you.

"I have no doubt." He nods, also looking at Feyd. "He will destroy you. Like any toy he had before you. When you lose your usefulness, he will throw you to his harpies. He's more unpredictable than me or even my uncle. But you know that... so what are you still doing by his side?" He asks, turning his gaze on you.

"I am his right hand. I live to serve him." You answer automatically, shrugging your shoulders.

"If I had known that Bene Gesserit witches were so devoted, I might have appointed one to be my right hand."

"Believe me, count Rabban, the overwhelming majority would not serve him or anyone else so loyally as I do. They would probably prefer to poison themselves." He laughs at your words, taking two drinks from the passing servant. He hands you one, but you shake your head. "I don't drink if I don't have to. Old habits from my home planet. My mother would slap my sisters and me on the hands until she could see our bones as a punishment for stealing a drink or two." You're half lying when you remember how the Reverend Mothers made sure you were completely… untainted by any substances that could make you less healthy. All for breeding. Like farm animals.

"And they say the Harkonnens are monsters. At least you can get drunk with us… well, before we torture you to death or accidentally kill you."

"I've gotten used to it. Fortunately, I have fast reflexes." You reply with a smirk, knowing full well what he's trying to do. He wanted to ingratiate himself with you while you were still important in the Harkonnen court. His brother currently despised him, and his uncle probably did too. He saw an opportunity to increase his political influence when he spotted you alone.

Suddenly, you feel someone's intense gaze on you. You turned your face to notice that Feyd's eyes were on you and not on the princess, with whom he was still talking. Judging by the way your skin was burning from the look Feyd was giving you, you could tell he didn't like his brother being close to you at all.

And Feyd was incredibly pissed off and furious. In his eyes, Rabban wasn't worthy enough of your time, attention, or even being close to you to have the pleasure to smell the scent of your perfumes. But not only did his brother have the courage to talk to you; he even made you smile. Feyd was already planning in his mind how to tear his head off.

Na-Baron would have done just that if an arrow had not suddenly passed between him and Princess Irulan.

Panic filled the room when suddenly, a hail of arrows hit random people. You grabbed your blade and were about to move towards the first archer you noticed, but suddenly a cold steel was pressed against your neck. The Fremen woman holds you tight. You can only stand there calmly and watch as they overpower the more important representatives of the great families, leading the less important people out of the room. Feyd's blue irises are focused on you all the time, which surprisingly makes you feel a little better.

"Silience!" You freeze when you see Paul Atreides emerge from the crowd of Fremen.

Your informants haven't told you much about him. He had done well since he was forced to live on Arrakis among the Fremen. He became stronger, smarter, and more ruthless. He had no weaknesses… except one. You look around the room, your eyes locking on the woman who stood a few metres away from you. His lover.

If living among powerful men taught you anything, it was that they only had a few weaknesses. Fear for their lives, property, title, and, among those younger and less experienced in life, their loved ones. But Paul Atreides changed on Arrakis. He wasn't the little boy you knew during your training with his mother. You could only hope that he loved his woman enough to consider rescuing her. Maybe you will buy enough time before your trops, waiting on ships above Arrakis, come to rescue you.

"Let me go. Give me your blade. Keep your mouth shut and close your eyes for the next 30 minutes." You use your voice on the woman who holds you.

While she does what you told her, you try to get to Atreides' lover unnoticed. You ignore his speech; your heart is racing in your chest, and all you can hear is the sound of your blood flowing in your blood vessels.

When you reach the Fremen woman, you quickly disarm her and press your dagger to her neck. Atreides stops his speech. Before anyone can react, you take a deep breath and say loudly:

"Everyone ten steps back. Stay still, or slit your throat with the nearest weapon." Everyone in the room is listening to you. You have to take a few steps back with the woman you have in your iron grip. You tremble as you feel the eyes of everyone in the room on you, especially Feyd's. However, your gaze is fixed only on Paul Atreides.

"This is impossible… what are you?" He asks in shock, not moving after you forced him and everyone else in the room to back away from you.

"It doesn't matter, Atreides. Take your men and get out of here. I advise you well." You growl furiously at him. You feel the blood start to pulsate in your veins. The old wound on your side is slowly starting to open up under the pressure your body is going through. You're glad you're wearing a black dress. At least not all of them will see the blood stain on your dress when it will be leaking out of you more and more by the second.

"You cannot keep them under your will forever. You'll soon get tired, faint, or bleed to death." He reasons, fully aware that your crowd control is time-limited.

"My men will be landing here soon. They'll take everyone who counts and fly away with us, raining nuclear bombs on your precious little desert. The spice from these areas may have been contaminated for several centuries, but we still have the opposite pole of Arrakis to exploit and extract it. So better choose wisely."

He frowns at your words, looking at you carefully and analysing your facial expressions carefully. You stare at him hard and unfazed, even though you feel the fabric of your dress sticking to your open wound. You have a staring fight with each other until you press your dagger a little more into the woman's throat and take her blood. He looks briefly at his girl before he opens his mouth to speak.

"We've met before, right?"

"You have one minute to make a decision before I make your woman bleed to death in front of you." You say hoarsely, feeling your muscles tremble slightly. But you hold on with all your might, maintaining your calm, dangerous, hostile attitude.

You all wait in suspense to see what he will do. He might as well attack and kill you, risking his men overpowering any reinforcements that come to your rescue. But you hope he's considerate enough to back off. If not because of the people who came after him, then because of his girlfriend or concubine, whose life now depends solely on you.

You almost sigh in fucking relief when he takes a step back. You let him get out of your control, looking at him carefully all the time. You swallowed and let go of his woman.

"Follow your Muad'Dib." You command the people of the desert. They stare at you for a moment before their eyes rest anxiously on their leader. He nods at them as he slowly leaves the room.

As quickly as they arrived, they left. You stand at attention for a long time—a minute, an hour, or hours—until you hear the ship approaching and the movement of the sands of Arrakis under the influence of sandworms.

They left. You realise this with relief. However, it is a very short-lived relief. It ends when your eyes meet the eyes of the reverend mothers, who are clearly communicating with each other. You fucked up. You revealed that you were a Bene Gesserit, or at least that you knew some of their tricks. Unconsciously, you completely let go of control over the gathered crowd.

"Why didn't you wait for your people so we could kill them? Kill him?" The emperor's voice reaches you vaguely. You raise your head and meet the gaze of an old man standing a few steps away from you.

"I bluffed, my emperor." You reply shakily, feeling blood start to flow from your nose as well.

"What?" He asks in shock, unable to believe that all your talk was a pure bluff. You don't have the strength to explain anything. You can stare blankly at the floor, feeling your strength slowly begin to drain away after you use the voice on the people gathered in the room.

"I bluffed." You repeat, feeling your heart beat rapidly against your chest. Your vision becomes completely blurry; all you can hear is the buzzing in your ears, the pounding of your heart, and the slow dripping of your blood onto the floor.

"But… you…" Whatever he was about to say, he's interrupted by you falling to your knees. You don't register at all what's happening around you. The only thing you are sure of is that there are suddenly a lot of people around you.

You're clinging to what little consciousness you have when you suddenly feel something pull you against the hard wall of muscle. You lean against the unexpected support, slowly drifting into blissful unconsciousness as you no longer feel the pain from the open wound on your side. The hoarse call of your name makes you a little more aware, enough to distinguish Feyd's voice from the indistinct gibberish around you.

"Get a medic here!"

He whispers something else to you as he brushes your hair out of your face, but you don't hear anything anymore. You let yourself go into the blissful darkness, happy that you can rest, at least for a moment. And you feel surprisingly comfortable, with the warmth of his arms and his scent being the last things you feel before passing out.

You're surprised that when you wake up in the hospital wing, there's no one at your bed, looking at you like a guard dog. Once you get used to the feeling of being fully aware, you rub your eyes. The moonlight shines through the window, illuminating a dark and empty room you found yourself in.

You ignore the strange twinge in your chest when you don't see your Na-Baron anywhere near you and slowly sit up on the bed. You check the status of your wound and are pleased to see that you are in a more stable condition than you were a few hours ago.

You place your feet on the floor and slowly stand up, testing your muscles. You're relieved to see that it's not as bad as it was in the past. You walk over to the chair where a black silk robe is hanging and put it on. You take a moment to search the room, smiling hugely when you find your daggers on the nightstand next to your bed. You attach one to your thigh and tuck the other inside the sleeve of your robe. Maintaining great silence, you tiptoe out of the room.

You sigh in relief as you wander the empty corridors again, hiding in their shadows. You feel like a newborn, like a fish that has returned to the current of a familiar river. You weren't aware of how therapeutic it was for you to wander the halls alone at night until Feyd trapped you in his arms and his bed practically every night. You missed it. Very much so.

However, today's attempted attack by Atreides made you realise that you were too focused on getting away from Harkonnen and trying to keep him at a distance. You had to take action. Otherwise, Paul Atreides will cut off your head, just like his mother once wanted to do.

You shudder as you remember the day you escaped from the Bene Gesserit sisters' sanctum.

You ran barefoot through familiar corridors in the cold, dark night. You didn't need a torch or other light. You had lived within these walls long enough to know which corridors ended in dead ends and where to turn to reach each gate. But Lady Jessica knew them as well as you. You had to be a lot smarter if you were going to escape the woman who wanted you dead.

Yesterday there was a great meeting of Reverend Mothers after Lady Jessica failed to give birth to Leto Atreides' daughter at the right time. The Reverend Mothers had to find... a new breeding mare for Feyd Rauthy, from whose blood the Kwisatz Haderach was to be created. They chose you. And now, because of this honour that had been a death sentence for you from the very beginning—a curse, an evil fate that seemed to have stuck with you since your birth—Lady Jessica had tried to kill you in your sleep and was now trying to complete her work.

You decide to go to the ramp, hoping that you might be able to capture some small ship—something flying around—that would get you away from those damn Bene Gesserit.

You knew you were too weak to fight Lady Jessica. She taught you a lot, but not how to defeat someone stronger, like her. If you wanted to live, you needed to find a way to escape.

You speed up as you hear the click of her heels behind you. You run as fast as you can, reaching the door just as Lady Jessica appears at the end of the hall. You close the door behind you with a loud snap. You sigh, leaning against it for a moment. You freeze as you feel the blade against your throat.

"Step away." You order in panic before opening your eyes. A cold chill runs through you as you see Na-Baron Harkonnen's cold blue irises staring at you in shock as he obediently steps away from you.

You stand there for a few minutes, staring at each other without saying anything. Na-Baron examines you carefully: your dishevelled state, rapid breathing, red cheeks, and bare feet. You have no idea what he deduced, but it was enough for him to not immediately slit your throat for using the voice on him.

"You should go back to your sisters, little witch. Unless you want to join me, I wouldn't say no to the company of... such a pretty mouse." He speaks hoarsely. He doesn't wait for your answer, though. He simply turns and walks slowly towards the ship his men are packing. You swallow and wonder: Is death at the hands of Lady Jessica or at the hands of Harkonnen? Your pride chooses for you.

"I'm not a mouse, I'm a warrior." You reply, gathering all your inner courage. Na-Baron stops in his way.

His raspy laugh sends another shiver down your spine as he slowly turns back to face you. He approaches you slowly, each step perfectly calculated as he stands a few millimeters in front of you, invading your personal space. You raise your head proudly and meet his gaze with your own, determined one.

Which impresses him.

So much so that he reaches for the dagger strapped to his hip. You don't flinch when he runs the tip of the dagger across his tongue. You watch him closely, waiting for him to either slit your throat or accept the challenge. Feyd is surprised. And very curious—too curious—to simply walk away and continue on his path. That's why he takes your hand in his and hands you the dagger he was just testing.

"So show me what you can do, little witch. Except for using that honeyed voice of yours." He says it mockingly and takes two steps back, drawing another hidden blade from his armour.

You don't remember the entire fight clearly. The adrenaline was pumping through you so much that you only remember snippets of that dance with him with daggers in your hands. Surprisingly, neither of you disarmed the other. You stopped as you both placed your blades against the other's flesh—at points that would guarantee instant death if either of you decided to press the blade against the skin a little harder.

"You fight well, little witch." He praises you, moving away from you. "You're wasting yourself here." He says, looking at you acutely for a long time, considering something. But finally, he nods at you and turns again to join his men and board the ship. You quickly grab his hand before he gets too far away from you. You feel him tense at your touch, but he doesn't make any moves.

"Let me go with you. My blade will be an extension of yours, Na-Baron. I'll be your spy from the shadows, just... get me out of here." He widens his eyes slightly, unprepared for such a request. He turns towards you and glares at you with his icy irises.

It could very well be a trick from those witches, but Feyd would be lying if he didn't say that you caught his attention the first day he saw you training. And he really wanted to see what you were really capable of doing. Few had the guts to challenge him. And he found it somehow charming—how your eyes shone with determination every time you held the blade in your hands.

"Your sisters won't be happy when they find out that I took one of them to Giedi Prime." He says, feigning hesitation. His people knew him well. If he wanted something, he took it. A group of old witches wouldn't stop him, not now that he saw... great potential in you. Maybe not only as one of his soldiers.

"With all due respect, your house is not known for following anyone's rules except those you set. I… I can't stay here any longer."

His heart beat faster, seeing the desperation and helplessness in your eyes. Normally, he would laugh at someone who showed him weakness and kill him on the spot without much thought. But you... when you stared at him with those pleading eyes of yours, flushed from fighting him... it did something to him.

Feyd knew the feeling of helplessness. His uncle loved making him feel this way. And Feyd himself finds great enjoyment in making others feel that way. Humiliated. Weak. Scared. Somehow he didn't like the fact that staying in the sisterhood made you... feel like that and do such desperate actions as coming with him to Giedi Prime.

However, he had no intention of letting go of such a valuable bird that was voluntarily pushing itself into his cage.

"Well, you fight better than most of my men... I will make you my right hand. And as for your Bene Gesserit sisters..." You sigh softly as he reaches for your hair and cuts it in half. He cuts your shoulder and dips the cut hair in your blood. You see him put a few strands in his pocket, before he handed them to his servant, growling something at him in his native language. You raise an eyebrow at him. "I told him to convey my thanks to the Reverend Mother for... sending me a delightful toy. He might also mention that my darlings liked your meat." You nod, swallowing. He laughs mockingly, patting your shoulder. "You have many things to learn, little witch. You better prove to me that I wasn't wrong about you, or you will suffer exactly the fate that my servant will pass on to your sisters. I don't like weakness and disappointment."

"I have no intention of disappointing you, Na-Baron."

"Good. Come with me. I'm fed up with this planet. Besides, you need to change your clothes if you don't want my men to think you're a whore they can enjoy while on our journey." He nods and walks towards the ship. You follow him like his shadow, casting cold, sinister glances at the people staring at you.

"I am perfectly capable of defending myself, my lord." You reply confidently as you walk with him up the ramp to the Harkonnen ship. You see a small smile appear on his face at your words.

"I don't doubt that. However, I wouldn't want to lose more people than necessary. It's supposed to be your job to clean up after me, not the other way around, little witch." He responds, testing you and carefully watching your reaction. You don't flinch, perfectly prepared and familiar with... the brutality of the Harkonnens.

"Duly noted. There's only one thing I don't understand." He doesn't stop in his steps, but he gives you a quick glance and hums, allowing you to continue and ask a question. "I appreciate it very much, but… why didn't you kill me at the entrance?"

He chuckles hoarsely at your question and stops at a specific door. He turns to look at you, a spark of amusement shining in his eyes as he studies you like a predator would its prey before deciding to answer you.

"You didn't apologise or beg for your life. I found it... very refreshing." He says, opening the door. The metallic smell of blood fills your nostrils. You look into the room and see several prisoners chained to the wall of the ship with some strange cuts on their chests—probably some words in Harkonnen."Your first task, little witch. My darlings are very hungry. They will need the meat of my enemies. Come back here in an hour... I should finish by then. And change that rag you wear. I want to see you only in black." He orders, closing the door behind him with a bang.

You stand in the hallway for a moment, blinking and staring at the door, as you are suddenly thrown into a new reality that you have to get used to. You mutter a series of curses under your breath as you go searching for... any clothes or shoes. The cold metal of the ship's floor and the dried blood in some places made walking around on your bare feet quite uncomfortable.

Feyd-Rautha was indeed psychopathic... but it was better for you to be the devil's right hand than his mistress. And it was certainly better to inhale the toxins of Giedi Prime than to smell the flowers from underneath your grave.

You find yourself in front of a door that you don't want to go through. But you know you have to do it if you want to remain free and independent of anyone. You couldn't escape now. Not before Feyd-Rautha. You had to pay the price of your freedom with someone else's freedom. And you were ruthless enough to do it without blinking an eye. Maybe the years of living with Harkonnen really made you one of them...

You knock and enter the cave of Feyd's three harpies.

As you might expect, they don't welcome you very warmly. As soon as you close the door behind you, you hear their hisses. They stop feasting on some Fremen and glare at you, slowly approaching you.

"Relax, ladies. I'm here... to make a small agreement." You announce, taking a seat in the only chair that, surprisingly, isn't covered in anyone's blood. The women look at each other distrustfully and approach the table where you are sitting.

"Agreement?"

"With a little witch?"

"We don't make any agreements with our meals; we simply eat them."

You don't flinch at their words. Instead, you nod and draw your dagger when they get too close to you. Two of them move away automatically, but one—the oldest of them—continues to look at you. You give her a cold and dispassionate glare as you play with the blade in your fingers.

"But that's exactly what I'm talking about. About... a food. A great meal. A feast you will remember for a long time, ladies." You try your best to sound encouraging.

Their eyes light up, interested as you meet a fresh meal. You know perfectly well that they haven't eaten anything... desirable for a long time. They probably had to drag the body of this miserable man to their chamber themselves since you didn't have time to... make sure they were fed. And if there's one thing you can get on Giedi Prime with something other than power and sex, it's food.

"The little witch is planning something…"

"The little witch is up to something interesting…"

"The little witch wants to do something against our master…"

You look at them unfazed as they read that you have no clear intentions at all when it comes to working with them. But anyone who managed to survive on Giedi Prime and Arrakis was surely a man whose conscience had gone a long time ago.

And maybe your plan wasn't good for everyone... but it was definitely good for you. And Feyd. He'll agree with you... or at least you hope so. You're still not sure if his obsession with you was just a passing whim or if he really wanted to keep you with him. But you didn't want to end up like his concubines and pets.

"Possibly... but isn't that what you want? For your master to give you his attention again instead of taking care of me?" This seems to interest them even more than the promise of food.

"What do you want, little witch?" The oldest harpy asks you, looking at you carefully. You give her a mischievous, sinister smirk.

'"Have you ever thought of feasting on the Baron?" Your question hangs in the room. The harpies watch you carefully, smiling slowly and showing a row of black teeth.

Nothing united women like a common enemy.

To be continued... Taglist: (I REALLLLY hope that everyone who wanted to be here is here...😅 I;m sorry if I missed someone <3) @skymoonandstardust @prettybubblesintheair @thegabbyh @himesuedi @wo-ming-bai @beebeechaos @mamawiggers1980 @moonsoulk @avidreader73 @heartarianagran @dreamlandcreations @ancientbeing10 @lovereadingfanfic @jeansjoie @workof-a-rr-t @aixicl @ladyredstar1991 @evangelineimagine @hobobobo-fett56 @happyant3 @marsflys @aaaaaamond @kamcrazy123 @k1swass @yum-yahgurt @tyns13 @oh-you-mean-me @menari @tyns13 @vaf24 @dacreshoney @emrennoll-blog @tian-monique @slightlypossessed @celestialadrift @lauramooij05 @flaps200 @chixnugg22 @aaaaaamond @marvelfangirl04 @sw33tsnow @emeraldsgirl @imyourbubblegumpop @tempt-ress @k1swass @alana4610 @cloudroomblog @lotus-888 @lowlyloved @spoolsofgreenspoolsofblack @w3ird11 @kythefangirl25 @hobobobo-fett56 @nj452896

[kyeomofhearts]

Back For More | J.WW

+ summary: while adjusting to your new life in college, you couldn't help but attract the attention of wonwoo, someone who you happen to have a history with.

+ pairing: badboy!wonwoo x fem!reader

+ word count: 2.7k

+ content: badboy!wonwoo, college au, mature language, flirting (wonwoo is a menace), jealousy. [pls let me know if i missed anything!]

HC | Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V

[ᝰ.ᐟ] i hope you guys enjoy this! it's most likely going to be a two-parter so definitely let me know if you want to be added to my taglist! i would greatly appreciate it if you guys reblogged (maybe with comments too ^^) since i thrive on your guys' validation :)

You were tired, very tired.

Granted, this was your own doing. Maybe if you hadn't pushed your responsibilities to the side last night you wouldn't have had to wake up so early to study for an exam, but what's done is done. This whole college thing was not going so well, to say the least. Sure, it's only the beginning of the second semester, but you already feel exhausted by all of your class workloads.

Just ten more minutes of this boring lecture and you could finally go home and crawl into bed. But… that's only if you avoid him today. Which now that you’re thinking about it, you hope he isn’t waiting for you outside, again. That would be the last thing you needed today.

With that being said, things have felt a little weird if you were being honest. Of course, this was your first year of university, so things were bound to feel new and different. But there was something, or rather someone that was making you feel strange.

Around two weeks ago you noticed that Wonwoo, an old classmate of yours, had recently started to become a bit friendly towards you. While that normally wouldn’t be considered weird, you couldn’t help but feel skeptical about his intentions. You knew the kind of people he surrounded himself with, and especially the girls he would go after; which was the exact opposite of you. So what exactly did he want from you?

What also makes this situation more odd is that you’ve basically known Wonwoo for your whole life. Of course, you don’t actually know him, you just happened to go to the same elementary, middle, and high school (which is insane if you think about it). Acquaintance is a perfect word to describe your relationship with him, nothing more nothing less. So yeah… it’s a little weird when the guy you have been around for (almost) your whole life is suddenly trying to befriend you, there definitely had to be something wrong with him.

All you knew about Wonwoo was that he was on the more reserved and quiet side; mainly keeping to himself most of the time. His group of friends was quite the opposite of him, which always made you wonder how he even became friends with them in the first place.

Seeing how the lecture was ending soon, you started to pack your stuff; you were more than ready to dash straight out of the classroom. Having finished all of your assignments for today, you had nothing left to worry about. So once the professor had made her goodbyes, you made a straight beeline to the door, nothing was going to hold you back from your long-awaited nap. Your pace was brisk, attempting to avoid the backed-up main exit, you decided to go to the opposite door. The walk back to your apartment wasn’t too bad either, most of the time you saw it as a way to daydream and listen to music. So while you scrolled through your various playlists, you happened to miss the (very obvious) figure following you.

Wonwoo called out your name a few times until it finally dawned on him that you had your headphones on. He took a few long strides to catch up to you; he was very adamant on getting your attention this morning. With ease, he quickly plucked your headphones off of your head.

“What are we listening to today?” He said while adjusting the headphones on his head. It took you a second to fully process what he was doing. You knew he was doing it to provoke you, but you were determined to not let that happen today. So to his surprise, you simply kept walking. You figured that he would continue with his antics if you gave him the reaction that he wanted so you did the opposite, you ignored him.

What shocked him the most was seeing you pull out an old pair of earbuds and plugging them into your phone. He was dumbfounded to say the least, how were you so prepared and why were you ignoring him?

And again, he quickly caught up with a few simple steps. He took your headphones off of his head and tapped them against your shoulder.

With a tired sigh, you turned around to face him but couldn’t help but admire his face. You really didn't want to lose that ‘expressionless’ look you were going for (to help you ignore him of course), but that small smile of his was enough to crack you down. It's like he knew that it was your one weakness when it came to him. This was the most annoying part of it all. Anytime he smiled or looked at you, a tiny part inside you secretly liked it, making you crave his attention at times.

Objectively speaking, Wonwoo was very handsome. That was something you could never deny, you would even go as far as to say that he was your type but you didn't particularly like the people he called his ‘friends’ so you were stuck in a weird limbo.

“Is there something on my face, birdy?”

You scoffed at the nickname. “I told you not to call me that.”

Wonwoo’s eyes were looking straight into yours, a smirk slowly creeping up to his lips. It didn't help that he was looking really good today either, his messy hair combined with the whole biker fit did wonders for your eyes. He was about to say something before you heard your ringtone go off, evidently cutting him off.

Oh.

It was Hyunwoo. That's odd... you finished your shared project with him rather early, what could he be calling you about? Either way, you answered the random call in front of a rather annoyed Wonwoo.

"Hello?"

"Heyyy yn, I was wondering if you wanted to get lunch later today?" You couldn't help but feel your eyes widen at his sudden question. Since when did he want to hang out with you? Last time you checked he had a plethora of girls that he was talking to... maybe he was interested in you? No, you shouldn't get too ahead of yourself...

"Um... let me check if I have anything to do first. Can I call you back?" You knew that you sounded nervous but how else were you supposed to feel when the cute guy from your physics class was literally asking you to eat lunch with him?

As soon as you ended the call, you felt Wonwoo's arm snake its way down to your waist. You couldn’t help but yelp at the sudden intimate contact. Chuckling at your reaction, he leaned down, closer to your ear. “Who was that?”

"No one." You stated simply, it wasn't his business anyway.

"Hm, okay," Wonwoo rested his head on your shoulder, continuing to speak lowly in your ear. "I'll remember that birdy."

Before you could even come up with something to counter him, he decided to speak up once again.

"Well, I do have something rather important to tell you." His voice was so calm and soothing, you could honestly listen to it for hours on end if you had the chance.

"What is it?" You hoped he couldn't sense your rather, embarrassing, curiosity.

"Heard you used to have a little crush on me," his voice was evidently smug, knowing that this would surely get a rise out of you.

Which it did.

Your face burned at the memories of when you used to have a crush on Wonwoo. But, that had to be in fourth grade… so how could he have known about that? Nonetheless, you scoffed at his statement, not wanting to know that you were a little embarrassed by the sudden reminder.

“Key word, had,” you rolled your eyes at him. This did make you curious though, who could have possibly told him that? So you asked him exactly that.

“How do you even know about that?” His smile never faltered even as you lightly pushed his hand away from your waist. If anything, this made him want to touch you even more.

“I have my ways,” he stated simply. Of course, he does. You hated when he would shrug things off, now this was going to bother you for the entire week!

One thing about Wonwoo was that he has always been curious about you, this interest stemming back all the way to your elementary days. This curiosity eventually intensified in junior year of high school when you began to show your blatant distaste towards him. He just had to get to know you.

He looked down at you, his face was unreadable like always. You never knew what was going on in that mind of his.

"Why are you here? Shouldn't you be hanging out with your actual friends?" Sometimes you couldn't help but blurt out your thoughts to him even if they sounded a bit rude. His face faltered for a split second, probably caught off guard by the random question. Shoot, you really didn’t mean to say that out loud. Although, it looks like Wonwoo didn’t take any offense to your sudden question. If anything, it made him... smile?

“I am hanging out with my friend,” he stopped you to face him, “which is you.” You rolled your eyes at him. That had to be the corniest thing he has ever said to you if you were being honest. You just hated that giddy feeling he would give you any time he said something remotely cheesy.

"Ugh, you're so dumb," you groaned while checking the time on your phone. It was getting close to noon and you hadn't responded to Hyunwoo's question from earlier. Maybe it was best if you didn't go... who knows what he wanted from you. If you were being completely honest, you didn't know if you had it in you to see other people at the moment, aside from Wonwoo of course.

"Have somewhere to be?" Wonwoo asked, a hint of concern peeking through his voice.

"No, thank god, but I do have a scheduled nap to get to so if you don't mind-" you were cut off by the sound of an engine revving, making your body jump at the unexpected noise. You turned to see where the source of the commotion was coming from but then realized it was coming from a group of bikers nearby; most likely Wonwoo's friends.

Or so you thought?

Wonwoo didn't seem too pleased with the group that was getting closer to where the two of you were. On the contrary, Wonwoo looked pissed. His jaw was visibly clenched, the gentle grip he had on your waist tightened, and his eyes lost that playful spark he had earlier. You couldn't help but feel guilty for thinking about how hot Wonwoo looked when he was angry. Of course, you would never want to be on the receiving end of his anger but seeing it on the sidelines was quite... interesting.

Wait. This might actually be serious, so it's best if you leave before anything crazy happens.

"I think I'm going to head out now..." you said quietly as you tried to slip away from Wonwoo's (awfully) strong grasp.

He turned to look at you, his eyes softening once they landed on your figure. Why did they have to come and bother him at this exact moment? He knew that whatever was going to happen was not going to be pretty, but he found himself reluctant to let you go.

Before truly letting you go, he quietly asked, "Are you sure? I can take you home if you want me to." As soft as his voice was, he still managed to sound composed which was comforting considering the situation.

You nodded in response, "I don't live that far from here so it's fine, thank you for the offer though." You managed to flash him a small, awkward smile before turning away from him and heading toward the direction of your apartment. You didn't know what exactly was going on between those guys and Wonwoo but it for sure wasn't friendly. Although it wasn't exactly your issue, you couldn't help but feel worried about Wonwoo, even if he was a pain in the ass sometimes.

Much to your dismay, that scheduled nap never came your way that day.

You blame Wonwoo, how were you supposed to sleep peacefully knowing he was probably getting jumped? Okay, you might be jumping to conclusions but what else were you supposed to think about when he was visibly angry at the mere sight of those guys?

Realistically speaking, it's only been two days since that whole incident happened. Granted, you haven't seen Wonwoo since then but that could mean a lot of things.

[...]

While you were in line to get a smoothie from one of the pop-up shops near the campus, you felt a sudden tap on your shoulder.

"Did my little birdy miss me?" You felt Wonwoo say right next to your ear, his breath fanning across your earlobe. It sent a wave of tingles down your spine, making you shudder in turn. Though you weren't a fan of his spontaneous appearance.

"God, you need to stop doing that! I almost slapped you I swear-" You stopped mid-way once you turned around and saw his face. He had a few cuts on his lips and eyebrows and one big bruise across his cheek. Those guys really did a number on him.

Your eyebrows furrowed in concern, "are you okay?"

He tried to wave it off but you could tell he was bothered by your question, "It's fine, really, don't worry about it." Was he insane? How were you not going to worry when he was visibly injured?

"Were these from the guys on Tuesday?" You couldn't help but ask, where else would he get these cuts and bruises if it didn't come from them?

His demeanor immediately switched and he pushed himself away from you.

"It's none of your business so stay out of it."

"Okay." That was the only thing you said before grabbing your smoothie from the worker and quickly walking away from the shop. If he wanted to be like that then so be it. You most definitely were not going to wait for him to 'open up' by all means, he could throw himself a pity party for all you care.

"Wait-" He tried reaching for your arm but you were too quick for him. Your steps were swift, helping you create a reasonable distance between you and Wonwoo. He called out your name a few times before giving up, he didn't want to gather any unwanted attention from the people nearby. Reaching your pace, Wonwoo was finally close enough to grab your wrist and make you look at him.

"Are you seriously ignoring me?" His voice was a bit jagged, no doubt coming from the unexpected cardio you made him do to catch up to you.

Unfortunately for him, you were petty. "You said it wasn't my business, so please do not talk to me because I really do not care." You brushed past him once again this time making sure he could not grab your arms or wrists.

He exhaled in annoyance, "Look I'm sorry-" Wonwoo was mid-apology before being abruptly cut off by the voice of a guy yelling your name out loud.

Speaking of the devil, what immaculate timing.

"Hey yn! Did you still want to get food after class?" Hyunwoo jogged to where you were standing but saw how Wonwoo was still trying to talk to you.

"Sorry, were you busy with him?"

You instantly responded to Hyunwoo, "No, he was just asking for directions, but yeah I'm down for food." Like before, you made your way towards Hyunwoo, making sure to bump into Wonwoo. He couldn't help but stay frozen in place as he watched you walk to class with some random guy, jealousy slowly invading his mind.

Directions? Did she really...?

As much as Wonwoo wanted to be mad at you, he really had no one to blame but himself. The whole situation with his old group of 'friends' was really getting to him so once you popped that question it just seemed to send him over the edge. He just didn't know how far you would go to express your annoyance towards him. Now all he had to do was find a way to properly apologize to you before that Hyunwoo guy got to you first.

The only thing stopping him? He didn't have your number or any of your socials...

[Part Two: II]

[moon-ttokki-x]

ooh could you do 53 & 64 with Hyunjin? you write really well!

. . . hey so this is super angsty bc ive kinda had a shit week so you guys are coming down with me HAHAHAHAH . also thank you for the compliment :>

unclicked - (bf!hwang hyunjin x fem!reader)

pairing: bf!hwang hyunjin x fem!reader

summary: hyunjin has been distant lately and you finally snap.

genre: idol!au, fem!reader, mentions of eating and drinking, kkami mention, mentions of feeling like throwing up, broken glass, mentions of injuries and crying, reader struggles with eating, mentions of neglect and apathy, hyunjin is kinda a jerk in this fic but i also feel bad so . . . you decide who the villain is

a/n: yeah so there's no happy ending, fuckers . . . be warned

🖤 prompts: 53. "Why are you so afraid of the truth?" / 64. "I thought I had everything figured out."

skz masterlist | skz prompt list

You had always been the affectionate type; gentle, loving, yet excitable. The type to ramble about your day over dinner while smiling and piling more food onto your plate, unaware of your lover's smitten gaze; the type that would have your arms open for Hyunjin when he came home from a long day at the company. He forever relished your comfort and the warmth of your body against his, always open to your soft words and cute smiles.

But lately, he had been distant.

Now he was out the door before you had even left the bed; always coming home late and never showing up when you needed him to. Like the time you smashed a glass and texted him asking for him to come home, but he didn't. So you cleaned it up and patched up your hand without him. Or like the time when you both finally had a day off and he spent it with the rest of his members even though you'd already made plans. You got left at home, alone, because all the rest of your friends had plans already and it wasn't like it mattered, anyway, that you were alone.

Not really. You'd chosen to understand rather than getting pissed off at him about it.

You weren't too sure about that decision now.

You sigh and begin to pick up the plates. You'd laid out dinner for two so both of you could sit and eat immediately after getting home, even though Hyunjin worriedly insisted you should eat even before he got back. You never listened, though, always wanting to share a meal with him while you both exchanged details about your days. It was one of your favourite parts of being with him; being able to welcome him home with a warm hug and a plate of good food.

But now it'd gone cold. And you were alone. Again.

The clock on the wall reads 10:43 PM.

Kkami runs up to you as you clatter dishes into the sink; he bounces hopefully around your feet, and you smile before giving him a forkful of the dinner. He yaps and licks it off messily, his high-pitched barks filling the empty apartment.

You don't bother taking any of the food for yourself, simply shoving it all into a plastic container and tossing it onto a shelf in the fridge. You were hungry when you were cooking; the rumbles of your stomach overlaid the noises of a knife against the chopping board and the simmering of the stove, but you just feel drained now. Too tired to eat, too defeated to care about the hollowness in your gut.

You wash up the remaining dishes and stack them neatly in the dishrack. Kkami comes up to you again, hoping for another bite, and you kneel down and scratch his fluffy head.

"Looks like it's just you and me," you say quietly. "Again."

The dog tilts his head, two black eyes in a mass of black and white fluff. He seems to understand, and he flops down on the floor while you run damp fingers through his fur.

"He's been coming home late so often," you mumble absentmindedly, still stroking the little dog. Your fingers pause.

He wouldn't cheat.

Would he?

No, you tell yourself, shaking your head to clear the thought out. Hyunjin wouldn't do that. He loves me, he cares for me. He clings to me every possible moment of the day. There's no way he would ever do something like that.

Then again...

He's surrounded by girls much prettier than I am. Girls that are slimmer, more feminine, girls that are a part of his world. Girls who are artists and singers and dancers just like he is. And it's not like I can measure up to them. I'm just me.

I'm just-

Kkami's incessant barking snaps you out of your thoughts. He's licking your hands, bouncing off the floor and around your crouched figure like a fluffy little pogo stick rather than a dog.

You realise what he's barking at. The salty drop of a tear pools in a little circle on the cold, tiled floor. Your face is wet.

Sniffling, having not even realised you were crying, you wipe a hand over your face, scrubbing harshly, and exhale a shaky breath.

"I'm okay," you say softly to the anxious little animal. "I'm fine. I just- I miss him. I don't know what i did wrong."

Kkami gets up and runs off. You sigh and watch him skid around the corner before standing up. Even the dog doesn't want to be around you.

You stand, wash your hands, then dry them, feeling lost. Suddenly, every movement feels like a tremendous effort. Your body feels slow and you feel a little dizzy. Maybe you should've eaten earlier.

The lock on the door unclicks.

Hyunjin enters the apartment, kicking off his shoes and locking the door behind himself. His hair is getting longer by the day, and he runs a veiny, ringed hand through the black spikiness of it as he drops his bag by the wall. He looks up, surprised, and his eyes meet yours.

You're stuck in place, rooted in fear. You're not sure why.

"Baby?" He says, voice floating over your head. "Why are you here?"

Your heart thuds dully. The first thing he says after coming home late. Again. He doesn't ask about the tears or the crying or the turned-off light or why you're still awake, no, he asks why you're here. Like you're a stray staff member on set rather than his lover at home.

"I live here, Hyunjin," you say coldly. The blood turns to ice in your veins, expression blank and unsurprised. "You would know that if you were actually home more often."

He flinches at your tone. Like he has no idea why you're upset to begin with. Like he hasn't been the sole cause of your misery for the past month. Like none of it is his fault.

He doesn't say anything. His expression betrays his feelings.

"Hyunjin," you say, in disbelief. He's not even trying to defend himself. He's just... standing there. The way you say his name makes you sound like you're begging and you hate yourself for it.

"Y/n, I just..." He runs a hand through his hair again, stepping forward. "I'm sorry, okay? I've been so stressed lately, and the tour preparation has taken so much out of me. I didn't mean to neglect you-"

"So you knew," you snap at him, tears welling. "I didn't say what was wrong, I never told you, but you knew. You knew that I felt alone and unappreciated."

He throws his hands up, exasperated. "I can't be there at your every beck and call, Y/n! I have my own life too!"

"So do I," you shout, voice rising. "I moved in with you so I'd be able to support you better, even if it meant that I had to travel further for work, even if it meant that I would get home later! I have my own life just as much as you do, Hyunjin, and it seems like all of it's going to waste-"

"It isn't!" He protests. "I like having you here-"

"But you're never here!" You cry finally. "Do you even love me anymore? Or do you just want to avoid me like you've been doing for the past month?"

Hyunjin sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Silence hangs over both of you like a heavy blanket, thick and suffocating. You can almost see the tension in the air, solid and unmoving.

He's a blurred shape in front of you, and you feel the hot streaking of tears down your face. You don't move, can't move.

"Y/n..."

You look up. Hyunjin looks defeated, tired, a quiet sort of finality settling behind his features. It makes him look so much older, that boyish charm and cheeky smile nowhere to be seen. And it breaks your heart more than he ever could. At least, you think so.

Your entire body feels rooted to the spot. Hyunjin steps behind the counter and sinks into a chair. The golden glow of the kitchen light above both of you does nothing to soften the moment.

"I really tried," he says quietly. Your heart thuds when he looks up at you, tears welling in his own eyes. "I tried to... Keep loving you."

Your mouth parts in distress, shocked. This isn't real. This isn't happening. "No."

His eyes are red-rimmed but his gaze is firm and set. "Why are you so afraid of the truth? Surely you understand that-"

"No!" You cry. You don't want to hear him say it, say that he doesn't love you anymore-

"I'm sorry," he says, a little louder. His voice cracks. "I just- I didn't know if I could make the time for you-"

"I did," you whisper fiercely. "I made time for you, for us, even when I had to sacrifice myself. Because I loved you more."

"You didn't have to do that-"

"I wanted to," you sob. "I made that choice, Hyunjin. Because I thought that if anyone could reciprocate the effort, if anyone could make me feel like the sacrifice was worth it, it was you."

"It's late," he whispers after a pause. "Please, come to bed with me. We can talk in the morning-"

"No."

Hyunjin goes silent. His eyes meet yours and there you stand, utterly defeated and exhausted, fed up, tired, and all the rest of it. But most of all, in disbelief. Because there's no way you thought this was going to happen. And the worst part is, you know exactly what you're supposed to do next. You knew this was coming, but now that it's here, you feel like throwing up.

He always said you were too independent for your own good.

"I thought I had everything figured out," you say weakly, a bitter smile curling the corners of your mouth. "And I did, but I see now that I'm the problem here. Not you."

A tear slips down Hyunjin's cheek. "That's not true."

"It is," you say, voice strong despite the salty tears streaking your face. "Because after a while, after all the lovebombing and the letters and gifts and dates and kisses, you stopped. Like you got bored of me, like I was just another one of your duties.

And you," you stab a finger at him, "You dragged it out instead of telling me, instead of wanting to fix us. You let me keep putting the effort in because you needed the love more than I did. You don't care about me, Hyunjin-"

"I do!" He cries. "I do care about you, Y/n, please, I love you. You mean so much to me, your effort makes such a difference, I'll do better, okay? I promise. Just please, please come to bed with me. It's late-"

"Oh, I know," you say venomously. "I know it's late, Hyunjin, because for the umpteenth time, your dinner got fed to Kkami instead of you. Because I'm such a fucking burden to you that you stay out late to avoid me."

You turn and grab your coat off the hook by the door. You cast him one last glance over your shoulder, bones made of concrete, limbs like unoiled joints. Tears soak your skin, irritated and sticky and puffy, but you slot your key in the door despite the watery blur in your vision. You squeeze your eyes shut at the sound of his voice. There's a thud and you know he's on his knees.

"Y/n," he cries, a choked sob leaving his throat, raw and strangled. "Please don't leave me. Please, okay? I'll do better."

You turn the key. "We're done, Hyunjin. I'll send someone to get my things."

You slam the door behind yourself, flying down the corridor, almost stumbling in the wake of your misery. Regret and guilt and determination flood your system so suddenly that you actually believe for a second that you might pass out.

But you don't. So you opt for the stairs instead of the lift, too afraid to stop moving, to stop and contemplate, then clatter down the levels, and disappear into the night, not knowing where you're going but knowing exactly what you've left behind.

Up in the apartment, Hyunjin screams.

a/n: oof . div by @kodaswrld

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[onaswife]

https://www.tumblr.com/onaswife/785460957763747840/ive-been-seeing-a-lot-of-videos-in-tiktok-and?source=share

share them thoughts 🙂‍↕️

I made blurbs of both Alexias, I don't know if you'd like to know more. For now, these are the ideas I developed best.

Warning: Mention of miscarriage

The first time Omega! Alexia met Irene's little son, she was struck by the famous "Baby Fever."

You still remember how bright her eyes looked as Lucía showed her how to hold a baby properly without hurting or making him uncomfortable. Never, at least not since you two had started having a serious relationship, had you talked about having children.

That day when you got home, Alexia couldn't stop talking about this new experience, about feeling how the little one seemed to snuggle up against her chest, something that made her feel full. You, on the other hand, couldn't stop thinking about how radiant Alexia looked with a baby in her arms. You'd always thought Alexia was a person who radiated energy, perhaps not so much on the pitch when she should have been a more serious person, or when she was in "media day" mode, but when she was at home with her mom and sister, or when she went to visit the girls from her foundation, even when she scolded the younger members of the team for listening to Mapi and doing something mean, Alexia would look like the most beautiful and radiant person in the room.

That day you didn't talk about expanding the family; ypu only talked about Irene's little one.

The months began to pass. Mateo, Irene's son, was already older, beginning to say his first words, and could already babble something close to "mama" and "mami." Meanwhile, Alexia had one mission in mind: to get Mateo to say "Tia" or at least "Ale."

When it was their turn to babysit (on Alexia's whim, disguised as the older couple needing to have time for themselves), she would try to get him to mumble something as close to "Tía" as possible. Every time he mumbled something with a tone resembling that word, Alexia would begin to congratulate him while holding him tightly to her chest and praising him for being so intelligent.

You always stayed more distant, not because you hated being around the boy or anything like that, but because you'd never been able to figure out how to connect with little kids. You always stood there, not knowing what to do while looking anywhere but at the boy, trying to find help. But while you stood like that, you could look at your girlfriend, who seemed more and more accustomed to being maternal, giving you future ideas of what she would be like with your children, without having to be sad about them having to go with their real parents; they would be hers.

Gradually, every time Mateo accompanied his mother to training, or when they took him to watch the finals, he always looked for Alexia first. Which is why it seemed rather strange to you when Irene approached you with the little boy in her arms, while he screamed your name and tried to get away from his mother's arms. As soon as Irene stood in front of you, the boy stopped moving and stretched his short arms toward you.

It was at that moment, when Mateo looked for you first, that the baby fever hit you the hardest.

Neither of you said anything, neither of you wanted to have the conversation.

It was like that until you saw Alexia start flushing all the birth control pills down the toilet, and you knew the next step in the relationship was closer than you'd thought.

There was a long talk about the future. You tried to get Alexia to remember why she had decided not to be a mother yet—she was in the prime of her career, having just won the Ballon d'Or and being the face of the Spanish national team—but Alexia kept countering her arguments based on her experience with her teammate's child.

From that day on, you had both agreed to no longer use protection, you wouldn't force children, but Alexia really wanted to get pregnant. Whenever you two had sex (which was quite often, it was hard to keep your hands off her body), Alexia made sure that when it was time for you to finish, you wouldn't pull out until she was sure you could. So for the next eight minutes, you were on top of your girlfriend's sweaty body while her legs tightly hugged your body, leaving you with no way to move.

It was in the midst of recovering from her ACL that the pregnancy test finally came back positive. You both were both now proud mothers to little Mar. Mar Putellas.

On the other hand alpha! Alexia would be more scared. She loves children, and she had that instinct, being Alba's older sister. From the moment they met and talked about having children, they had both agreed that they weren't ready for them.

That remained the case until your older brother had his first daughter, and you automatically made her your spoiled niece (the only one).

You lived and breathed for that little girl. She looked a lot like you did when you were a baby, something your mother and brother emphasized when you and Alexia visited them.

Alexia and you had a tacit agreement about using condoms when being intimate. You both got tested for sexually transmitted infections every two months, and obviously neither of you had any other sexual partners, so it hadn't been a problem.

Until it was.

You got pregnant.

None of you expected it. That night there was a big argument. Alexia left, slamming the door as you cried in the bathroom stall, no longer knowing what to feel.

The following week was a cold one. You didn't speak to Alexia, you didn't look at her, you had started sleeping in the guest room and always avoided seeing her in the mornings and at night.

It was like this for about two weeks, until Alexia stopped being a coward and spoke to you seriously. While it was something neither of you had planned, it was something you had both done, and therefore, you would both have to take responsibility. As soon as you heard those words, you couldn't help but feel worse; you felt like Alexia was forcing herself to take charge.

Time began to pass; Alexia seemed to change. And just as Alexia changed, so did your pregnancy. At week 11, you began to feel strange; even Alexia commented on your lack of milky smell. That day, you both suffered and cried knowing your little one would no longer be with you.

The following weeks were hell for both of you, a personal hell.

Time passed, the wound healed as best it could. A year and a half after that fateful day, the test came back positive again.

This time, Alexia didn't get angry, of course not. She cried. She cried next to you as she looked at the pregnancy test on the sink.

Alexia pampered you throughout your pregnancy. She didn't mind canceling interviews so she could get treatment for the back pain you were having. She didn't mind getting up at 2 in the morning and having to get up in 4 more hours to go buy your midnight snack. She didn't mind carrying you every time you went out and your feet started to hurt. She watched videos on social media to help you. When your bump had grown enough to slow you down and cause more back pain, she started standing behind you and bringing her hands to your lower abdomen, where she would put her hands together and take some of the weight, making you feel less heavy and allowing you to rest a little. Or when you were going for a walk on the beach and you couldn't lie face down, she remembered seeing a video where they dug a hole in the sand big enough to fit your bump comfortably so you could rest. Alexia might be able to take her heart out if you asked her to. She wouldn't make the same mistake as in the past again, and she wouldn't let it end the same way either.

The day her son was born, Alexia felt her chest fill with happiness as she saw him in your arms as he lay resting. Even as you watched her be happy with your son, you couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if your first baby had been born. You still had nightmares about that event.

She cried again, seeing how her family had grown, now determined never to be separated from her son or from you again.

Whenever you went out, both Elias and you reeked of Alexia's scent; it was her way of being present.

Over time, little Elias had grown up with the same passion that Alexia's father had passed on to her. Both Barcelona fans, they breathed and died for their colors.

[selfindulgenceisthekey]

If You Thought It Was Real Pt. VII

Pt. I Pt. II Pt. III Pt. IV Pt. V Pt. VI

A/N: I decided to 2-part this, sorry not sorry! again, thank you to my beta reader @hannahbarberra162 !!!

Ten

It was the second day since you had woken up, and the fifth since the crew had set sail with you unconscious in their sick bay. In those few hours of you being conscious, Sanji had come in to check on you no less than three times per hour. Sometimes he spoke, sometimes he stayed quick and quiet. 

It was beginning to feel like whiplash.

You’d taken to eating, terrified that the next time you even looked like you were going to refuse food, you’d wind up with a plastic tube down your throat. Every fiber of your being hated how good the food tasted, how you knew Sanji had made these plates so deliberately for you. 

If he was being cruel to you in any way, you’d be able to justify the hatred you felt bubbling in your chest. But every time he opened the door and smiled at you, every time he asked if you needed anything, your heart betrayed the burning you felt, fluttering like a little bird.

You’d never had a job end up like this, you were in uncharted territory. 

“Chopper had suggested you start moving around soon.” He wasn’t looking your way as he spoke, piling the empty plates and cups onto the tray. “Just a little bit each day, but he wants you to start being able to regain strength and motion in your muscles.”

You snorted at his statement, wincing at the sting in your ribs. 

“You can stay in here for a bit,” He turned to you now, a gentle smile on his face, his expression opposite of the stormy one on yours, “But once you feel up to it, you can walk around the deck, get some fresh air.”

“Why not let me wander around a new town?” You suggested, voice dripping with sarcasm as you turned away from him, “In fact— let me wander off and never return.”

The smile dropped off his face, a grim frown replacing it. He didn’t look mad, just upset that you’d say something like that.

“I know you’re joking, love, but I don’t find that funny.”

You swallowed the congee in your mouth, the food sinking into your stomach like lead—  you hadn’t been joking. He knew that, and you knew that much. The scowl stayed planted on your face, and he paid it no mind as he continued to clean up. You stayed quiet, half-listening to him chatter away about how the morning had gone, how he had to fight Luffy away more than normal to protect the crew’s breakfast, how Nami had been excited about how many more tangerines had grown in this season.

His movements remained gentle, the tray and the bowl clinking quietly, “Once you’re up and in the sun, you’ll feel better, I promise.”

Sanji’s tone was still soft, light and loving. You glared at the floor, “I’d feel better if I could leave.”

This time you could tell there was less bite in your tone, the sentence coming out more pleading than aggressive. The snarling and barking hadn’t done anything for you so far, maybe if you shed a few tears he’d be more easily swayed.

“I don’t want to risk you ending up in my danger, my dear.”

“What— danger like being kidnapped by a pirate crew?” He didn’t rise to your bait, watching you with a steady gaze, “I took care of myself for years.”

“Took care of yourself?” His tone shifted, and for a moment it felt like the other shoe had dropped, like he was about to live up to the horror stories you’d heard about the feared Redleg Sanji.

“Luffy brought you back on the ship unconscious, bruised and bloody from the men you worked for,” Despite the distance between you, it felt like his presence was suffocating you, “Forgive me if I don’t consider that taking care of yourself.”

It wasn’t, and you knew that. You were physically alive back on that island, sure, but you often dreamt of being swept away to freedom. You just hadn’t anticipated quite literally being whisked away.

“Maybe I was better off with them.”

You spoke quietly, softly. Part of you was hoping he hadn’t heard you, and part of you was hoping he did.

The silence this time was different, frigid, almost. Sanji didn’t respond, and you were too afraid to look his way. 

“You don’t mean that.” He spoke with finality, it didn’t sound questioning or like he was trying to convince himself. 

“You don’t know that,” Was all you were able to come up with, finally looking up at him after a moment of silence.

He was already looking at you, a smile on his face. Your heart jolted in your chest, an uncomfortable tightness present.

“I don’t, do I? And you think you do?”

Nine

“Take a deep breath, please!”

The stethoscope was cold against your back, and you had to admit, breathing still made your ribs sting. Chopper listened quietly, shifting the tool around, before stepping back.

“Well, it sounds like the wounds to your throat didn’t affect your ability to breathe.”

“That was a concern?” You asked before you could stop yourself, mentally cursing as you broke your silent streak.

Chopper, thankfully or not, didn’t acknowledge that this was the first thing you’d said in a day. He just sighed, scrambling to sit in his seat, turning to look at you.

“It was a minor concern of mine, yes. I didn’t tell you, because you may have panicked, and that definitely would have affected your breathing!” 

You shifted, letting your shirt— Nami’s shirt— fall back down, covering you in full. You remained seated upright, despite how much your body wanted you to lie back down. Chopper scribbled something onto the clipboard, turned away from your prying eyes. 

“Your blood pressure’s improving,” He turned to look at you, the gleam in his eyes bordering on excitement, “And the lack of fever means none of your cuts got infected. I think I’d like to have you start walking around soon!”

“Really?” You couldn’t fight the excitement in your voice, the idea of being able to get out of this room sounding like heaven. The four walls of the sick bay had gone from your saving grace to your nightmare, even if you couldn’t leave the ship, leaving the room sounded amazing. 

“Yes,” He nodded happily, “We can set a schedule with some of the others. The walks would have to be short, we don’t want to ruin any progress you’re making, but I worry your muscles will grow weaker if you stay in bed all day.”

“Schedules?” You blinked, the excitement dimming slowly, “With the others?”

“Hm? Yeah!”

“I can’t take walks by myself?”

Your question had him frowning, the clipboard lowering slowly, “Well, no, if you fall or tweak something while walking and you’re by yourself you could get even more hurt.”

“Even if they’re short walks?” You know you sounded like you were pleading at this point, but you didn’t care. Freedom felt like it was right in your grasp, but it was being snatched away second by second.

“Even then.” He confirmed, continuing on, “I brought it up with the others some, just to get an idea. You’ll have me, Sanji, Luffy, Robin, and Nami who you’ll start taking walks with to start!”

Chopper seemed to take note of the fallen look on your face, and he floundered for a moment, little arms flailing around, “It’s not forever! I promise! Just until you get your strength back! And until you feel more comfortable on the ship, too!”

Of course, that was part of it. Sure he was worried about you falling over or over exerting your muscles, but they also didn’t trust you by yourself anywhere other than the sick bay.

“What happens if I don’t want to go on any walks?”

“Well being outside would do you a lot of good,” He set the clipboard down on the table, making a face as he continued, “But if you refuse then Sanji will just have to carry you outside, the sun and the air will be good for you too. Or I can carry you, if you want!”

Despite the semi-threat being present, you couldn’t help but snort at the last part, wincing at the pain in your ribs. 

“I get bigger, Monster Point. You just haven’t seen it yet. I’m bigger than Zoro!”

That was… hard to imagine. 

“After lunch, we can prop the door open to get you some breeze!” He hopped down off his chair, “And I will be checking to make sure you ate everything!”

Eight

The first time Luffy came to visit you without Sanji or Chopper, your heart was struck with fear. He didn’t seem to realize as he moved around the sick bay, studying the charts Chopper had written. Your blood felt like ice in your veins, and you remained silent as he dropped the clipboard onto the metal table, the loud clang echoing in the room.

He sat down heavily, sighing like he was the one who had been stuck there for days.

“How long are you going to need to heal?”

The question came out like a whine, head tilting back as he began spinning the chair.

“Uh,” You licked your lips, “I— Chopper said I’d be fully healed in a few weeks?”

Your response made him groan again, and the fear was slowly being snuffed out and replaced by annoyance. You were the one stuck in the sick bay, on a pirate ship, which you had been kidnapped onto. Why was he acting like this was difficult for him? 

“That’s so boring!” He threw his hands up as he spun, not even bothering to look at you as he continued to speak, “Even Usopp doesn’t take that long to get better.”

“Well, excuse me for not having freak strength,” You had curled your knees up to your chest, muttering into them.

He heard you and laughed, the spinning of the chair stopping.

“I told you it was okay that you were weak!” The blatant insult had you turning your head his way, “Sanji’s plenty strong, so if you’re ever in danger, he’ll protect you.”

“The only danger I seem to be in is from you all.” 

Your voice was nearly dripping with venom, and despite the anger you felt, the fear kept you from looking him directly in the eyes. You knew you should have kept your mouth shut, or at least said something less aggressive, but you felt like you were going insane. Being cooped up in the sick bay for the past few days, your only visitors being the last people you wanted to see.

You could feel his eyes on you without needing to face him, and like the coward you were, you turned your head away, cheeks resting on your knees as you faced the wall.

“You’re not in danger here.” He spoke plainly, and the lack of anger should make you feel better, but it was the lack of any emotion that had your hair standing on end.

“You were before we brought you back; that town wasn’t any good. And your bosses? Man, those guys sucked! Plus, they were super weak. Would you rather I have left you there?”

He was quiet, and you heard the creak of the floorboards after a moment, a dip on the bed. It startled you, and you turned to look at him, flinching when his face was close to yours, the edges of his hat brushing against your forehead.

“Well?” You blinked, and he huffed, “Would you rather I had left you there?” You didn’t answer, not right away, and he took the silence as a cue to continue.

“I don’t think you would have,” He shrugged, “They were mean on that island. They hurt you— a lot.”

He didn’t move back from how close he was to you, and you broke eye contact first, shifting backwards on the bed. “I didn’t ask for you to save me.”

“But I did.” Luffy spoke of it like it was so simple, leaning back and finally allowing more space between the two of you.

“You’re nakama.”

You furrowed your brows, glaring down at the blankets and sheets on the bed, “I’m not—”

“You are.” His voice sounded lighter now, playful almost, “Sanji loves you, and before you ran away, everyone was warming up to you. That makes you nakama, even if you don’t see it yet.”

Seven

“Ugh, you’re going to need a full spa week at this rate, you look atrocious.” 

You remained silent as Nami fiddled with your hair, shaking her head to herself. 

“When Chopper gives us the okay, we’ll make it happen.” She stepped away from you, hands on her hips as stared down at you, her nose slightly wrinkled, “You’re a mess.”

You didn’t respond, just let her flutter around you, your eyes trained on the floor. At this rate, you felt like you could count the individual pieces of wood. She didn’t seem like she had been expecting a response. Nami just clicked her tongue, digging through the bag she had brought with her. 

She pulled out a few items: her nail kit, some lotion, and a book, though you couldn’t make out the cover. She just hummed quietly to herself, moving to take a seat on the bed in front of you, grabbing your hand in hers. You tensed at the first moment of contact, but she didn’t comment on it.

“Your skin’s so dry,” She muttered, “It’s painful to look at.”

The lotion had a faint scent of citrus, it smelled clean and expensive. She was fluid with her movements, rubbing it into your hands, your palms, up your forearms. It felt nice, you found yourself fighting from allowing a gentle fog to settle in your brain. Other than when you slept, you kept yourself on high alert around all of them. A little pampering would not be what undid that.

Once she was satisfied, she moved on, opening her nail kit and grabbing the file. The only sound in the sick bay was the filing of your nails, and the soft sounds of the two of you breathing. You got the urge to say something a few times, but stamped that out. What would you even say?

“Eugh, have you been biting your nails?” She lifted your hand up, eyeing the tips of your fingers with poorly hidden disgust.

Yes, you had been. At first it helped ease the anxiety that bubbled up in you, gave you something to do to take your mind off of everything surrounding you. You fear it had become a habit at this rate. 

“Taking care of your hands is the only pampering I can do right now,” She clicked her tongue, grabbing her next item, moving to mess with your cuticles, “It’s like I’m the only crew member seeing you besides Robin who has standards.”

Something in her tone, teasing and light, had you rolling your eyes. It was an automatic response, and you were grateful her focus was on your hands so she hadn’t seen your expression. The last thing you needed any of them to think was that you were complacent, or worse, comfortable.

“I told Chopper to let me know when you’re okay to start walking around on deck, I want to take you out first. After Sanji, of course. Figured you could benefit from some more girl time,” She grabbed the nail polish next, the familiar shade of orange standing out against the white of your bed.

She painted each nail maliciously, and you were somewhat smug about the shakiness in your fingers. Even if it made her job only slightly more difficult, it felt like you were sticking it to her. Nami glanced up, gently blowing on the first coat of polish.

“Your skin doesn’t look too bad, maybe in need of some sunlight, but that’s partly what the walks are for,” She reached a hand up, gently hooking her finger under your chin, tilting your head every which way.

She moved gently, but you couldn’t help but tense upon contact. She didn’t say anything about it.

“Next time I’ll bring some face mouisturizer,” She moved her hand back, and the breath that left as she did so was louder than you had anticipated, “You’d also look better if you stopped making such a face whenever we’re near you.”

She went back to painting your nails, seemingly ignoring the scowl on your face as she did so. Of course you were tense around them, any sane person in your situation would be. But she acted as if it was an annoyance to her. Nami went back to humming as she continued on your nails, seemingly having run out of things to say. You found yourself silent as well.

Until— 

“Don’t you have anything better to be doing?”

She was their navigator, surely she had maps to chart or logposes to ready. Instead she just shrugged, not even glaning up as she responded, “Nope. I cleared my morning for you.”

“That’s—”

Unnecessary. Nice. Annoying. Sweet.

You shut your mouth, teeth clicking together. She didn’t seem to mind your cut off, leaning back to study your hands.

“Just let them dry and I’ll add a clear coat,” She tided her items up, all her mini tools being placed back into her bag, “Maybe next time I’ll do an ocean blue, Sanji would love that.”

Sanji would love that. 

“Why would I care if he loves it?” You wanted so badly to wipe the orange off your nails, smear the bright color against the bedsheets and stain them.

“Because you’re Sanji’s,” Her tone made it sound like she was stating the obvious, “You should care to make him happy. Afterall, we did forgive you for hurting him once, you’d be smart not to do it again.”

Six

You were starting to believe this was some type of scare tactic they were implementing. You’d been getting more visits regularly, Sanji and Chopper still tying for first place. Nami had started in at least once a day, always carrying her bag of goodies around, sometimes coming with a new shirt or cute socks for you. You were starting to think she enjoyed playing dress up with you, you felt less like a captive and more like a live in doll.

It wasn’t surprising when the next new face was Usopp. He looked timid as he peeked in, as if seeing you was surprising. He stepped in fully after a second, scratching the back of his neck as he stood awkwardly.

“Uh, hey, good to see you sitting up!” He gave you a thumbs up, as if being able to sit up in the medical bed was some achievement to be proud of, “I’m just grabbing a few things for Chopper.”

He stepped a few feet over, digging through boxes of what looked like files. You had been tempted to go through those earlier, but the moral part of you assumed they were medical records and you shouldn’t touch them. Clearly that was not a unanimous sentiment, as he took a few papers out, reading them before placing them back.

“Nami’s been talking about your planned girls day,” Just as you were hoping his visit would be in and out he began to speak, “She wants to wait a bit before inviting Robin to join the two of you.”

If you had any sliver of a say you’d rather Robin not be invited at all. She nor Zoro had stopped in to see you, yet, and you wished for it to stay that way. Usopp glanced your way, and you must have been making some type of face because he laughed quietly, turning back to continue his search.

“I told her you may not be too thrilled, but  she insisted. Robin’s cool, she just has a lot of… layers, so to speak. She’s very protective of the crew, as we all are.”

He seemed to have found what he was searching for, turning around with a file in his hands, leaning back on the table to seemingly study you. You were sick of being studied by them all. For a moment you visualized jumping off the bed, punching him in his stupidly long nose and diving overboard. At the rate of healing you were at you’d more than likely drown, if you even made it into the water. You wondered, for a moment, if drowning would be better than this.

“Y’know,” He sounded more hesitant now, uncomfortably shifting his gaze away from you, “Sanji hasn’t been sleeping well since you got back. Well, actually, since you left but…” 

He trailed off, and the implication struck you in the heart. How you wished it didn’t, but some traitorous part of you still ached for the soft affection from him. The bigger part of you wanted to bash him over the head with his own frying pan.

“He’s been cooking a lot more too. Which cooking isn’t out of the question for him, but he’s making enough that even Luffy leaves leftovers. I think he’s just worried though. About you and, well, everything really. He always makes extras for you too, most of the time Luffy ends up eating them after you refused a few times.”

Usopp moved quickly, standing straight so abruptly you jumped, “Well, best get this to Chopper! It’s nice out today, not too sunny, you should see if Chopper will okay you for a quick walk today. I know Sanji would jump at the opportunity to take you outside.”

You didn’t respond verbally, just a quick shake of your head. He only shrugged as he continued to the door, “Suit yourself. But with our deal doctor and our lovesick cook, you’re only going to be able to hide out for so much longer.”

He winked at you, playfully, as he left. The silence after the door shut left you stewing, steaming in your frustration. 

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[miya-rin]

“what the fuck do you two think youre doing?”

shit, you think, you didnt notice the balcony door had been slid open until you heard the voice of one of your brothers. you start to pull away from suna’s lips which earns you a small whine from his end, his grip tightens around you and honestly its quite cute the way he is trying so hard to savour the moment. “come back later, we’re kinda busy.” the boy mutters before trying to move your face away from the distraction so that he can kiss you once more.

“suna you get your hands off of her right now, i dont give a fuck that its your birthday.” osamu pipes up, he looks furious and a little bit disgusted, if it hadnt been for the situation youre in right now you would think its kind of funny.

“samu lay off him, it was a mutual agreement, im just as guilty as he is ok?” that does not seem to help the boys understand, if anything they seem even more angry with you both.

“what the fuck do you mean it was a mutual agreement? are you two hooking up or something? yn he just turned 18 a few hours ago are you forgetting that?” atsumu says, he is rambling on with every excuse he can think of as to why this is “so wrong”, from the corner of your eye you can see suna trying so very hard to hide the grin that is creeping its way onto his face, his hands still all over you despite the fact that you arent alone anymore.

“listen, it was his birthday wish ok? i swear it didn’t mean anything,” sunas grip begins to loosen ever so slightly, “i just though it would get him off my back and get him over his little crush on me.” suna’s facial expression shifts but you choose to ignore it, you have bigger problems to deal with at the moment.

“no this is not ok, how would you feel if me or samu kissed one of your friends because it was their birthday wish?”

“that’s different, why would my friends want to kiss either of you?”

“excuse me? ill have you know that many women want to kiss me! and dont think youre getting off the hook either suna, ill make sure you never-“ you dont even want to hear the threat that is about to come out of his mouth, you just want to get out of this shitty situation.

“boys please, just give us five minutes to talk and then we will be back inside ok? i promise.” your efforts to plead with your brothers finally work.

“…fine,” atsumu mumbles, “but this better be a one time thing. im not gonna deal with you two being all lovey dovey around me.” and with that he lightly tugs on osamu’s sleeve, signalling him to walk back inside and continue the party. he closes the balcony door but not before bringing two fingers up to his eyes and then pointing them at the two of you. its a warning.

you turn back to suna and notice the sad look on his face - he looks kinda cute like this, “so, what do-“.

“did you really mean what you just said to them?” the poor boy looks heartbroken, after waiting three years to finally have a chance with the girl he loves wants the moment is ruined like that? “did you actually just do that so i would leave you alone?” his hands fully leave your body now and he takes a step back to put some distance between you two.

“well i mean sort of yeah… ive never looked at you in any way other than my brothers best friend if im going to be honest, i dont know if thats because of the age difference or what but ive never thought we could be anything.” the look of hurt is prominent on his face no matter how hard he tries to hide it, normally playful banter would have been thrown back and forth between the two of you but rintarou just stays silent, an indication that youve fucked up.

“listen suna i dont know what you want me to say, i wasnt really thinking when i said that to atsumu it just came out. i am 4 years older than you and many people would not approve of us if i decided to give you a chance.”

“who cares? i could treat you so right if you would just let me. i have waited entirely too long for this moment, all im asking for is one date.”

“you said that about the kiss too, one thing is never enough with you is it? you always need more.” a playful smile creeps onto your face which is outshined by the one on sunas, he knows that your smile means that you agree to go on a date with him.

“i really hope you arent fucking with me right now, that would be so cruel, especially on my birthday.”

“oh give the birthday excuse a rest now will you? you dont need to keep on at me you have already got what you want.”

“mhm i absolutely have,” he walks closer and once again wraps his arms around you, placing a hand under your jawbone to make you look up at him, “and i couldnt be happier.” he states as he pulls you in for a passionate kiss once more <3

[latetaektalk]

love to hate you | jjk [viii]

“when obnoxiously rich and spoiled frat boy jeon jungkook comes up to you one day and asks you to fake date him for money, you definitely should have said no. because before you knew it, you were going on insta dates with him and having lunch with his equally obnoxiously rich and spoiled friends.”

— genre: sexual themes, angst, fluff, fratboy! AU, fake dating! AU, college! AU, rich kid! AU, enemies to lovers! AU

— pairing: jungkook x female reader

— word count: 18.351

— warnings: swearing/cursing, communication skills nowhere to be found, chronic overthinking, emotional rollercoaster, confusingly set during christmas <3

— a/n: and just like that we've crossed 100k !! its here, the big one. by far one of my favourite chapters that ive written so far!! hope you guys enjoy it!! praying yall wont hate me for this one haha once again, this is inspired by To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before by Jenny Han!

You didn’t miss the look Chaeyoung and Jisoo exchanged, or the way Hoseok longingly looked after Jimin as he quickly walked away to get everyone some food after you sat down, or how Jimin muttered something about how someone clearly needed something to eat. The comment didn’t bother you because he was right and you could admit as much.

The mall had never been your favourite place to go, and even less so today. The Christmas decoration put up around you seemed overly tacky and in bad taste, and you could have ripped off your ears, sick of listening to the same three Christmas songs over and over again. You closed your eyes that ached from the bright colourful lights, and scrunched your nose when your arm bumped into one of your shopping bags. Your patience hung by a string, the fibers breaking with every passing second. Everything hurt, from your head to your arms and your feet.

Nothing was right, and there seemed to be no end to it.

“Fries?” 

Jimin specifially offered them to you, placing two medium plates of golden fries in the middle of the table. You took him up on it, taking two and throwing them into your mouth. The fries were bland and not salty enough but you took three more pieces, shoving your face full. As if the grease and carbs would fix anything. 

“Do you wanna try the thrift store that Ji suggested?” Chaeyoung asked, choosing her words carefully, and you cringed, shaking your head. 

“No.”

The silence continued, and you didn’t miss the looks your friends exchanged. There was clearly a conversation going on over your head, but you didn’t care, reaching for one fry after the other.

“Y/N, it’s gonna be fine,” Jimin said in the end, putting his arm around your shoulder. Bold, but when was he not. “Don’t be so down. That one dress- the beige one looked great on you!”

“Yeah, but also, they don’t care about what you wear,” Jisoo continued, not allowing you to even begin to disagree.

“And you still have time to find the perfect thing, right? If you do decide that the dress isn’t up to standard. Didn’t you get some stuff online too?” Hoseok asked, trying to get you to look at him, but you just closed your eyes and pulled your lips into a line.

They didn’t get it. But telling them that would be of no use, just like how their words didn’t encourage you the slightest bit. 

“I promise you Kook’s parents are really the sweetest people I’ve-”

“Yeah, maybe, I don’t know,” you mumbled, cutting off Jimin. You rubbed your eyes until you saw black spots. With a sigh, you leaned back. “I’ll figure it out, I think.”

There was no confidence in your words. To you, it seemed like your life was about to end, all over a stupid outfit you couldn’t put together. The thought almost made you laugh and cry at the same time. This was as ridiculous as it could get. 

“What did Kook say?” Chaeyoung asked, and you frowned.

“About what?”

She blinked at you, her brows creasing together. “Well, have you talked to Kook about any of this? How you’re worried about meeting his parents?”

You pressed your mouth into a line, and you didn’t even know where to begin. It seemed futile to you to explain that you possibly couldn’t tell Jungkook about all of the thoughts suffocating your mind. You would look stupid, like an absolute fool. You would look like you cared, and really, you didn’t. It would weird him out—how much you stressed about it, how much it was on your mind. But then again, really, actually, you didn’t care at all. You just were… especially irritable these days. Hormones were raging—your period, of course, greeting you just a day prior.

“No,” you exhaled, shaking your head. You didn’t know what exactly you were denying—you being stressed about meeting his parents, or you not talking about it to him. Probably both. “He’s busy with his stuff. He’s got a paper to finish- it’s fine.”

And even though you closed your eyes, you knew your friends were looking at each other. There was a carefulness with which they spoke to you, and you did feel bad. Just nothing seemed to lift your spirits.

“I’m sorry. I haven’t been in… a good mood these days,” you told them, getting more annoyed at yourself for being the way you were. You hid your face in your hands. “I don’t know what’s up with me.”

“It’s fine,” Jimin assured you. “We know you’re stressed.”

Jisoo placed an arm around you, leaning her shoulder against yours. She opened her mouth before closing again, ultimately she decided to speak. 

“What if… you don’t go?” 

“Ji,” Jimin whispered, looking at her as if she had just suggested something criminal.

“I’m just saying— it’s stressing her out so much, maybe she shouldn’t go.” Jisoo shrugged, believing her suggestion to be rather harmless. “She can meet his parents another time, right?”

You looked at her. She grimaced, apologetic, about to backpedal, taking your expression as offence. But you waved her off. Her suggestion was meant well, you knew that. It would also be more than a lie to say you hadn’t thought about it too. Of course, you had. But you couldn’t do it. Not when the image of Narae popped into your mind every time you did consider it. 

“Okay, fine,” Jisoo sighed, relenting. “But I’m just saying he’ll understand if you don’t want to go. It’s not like you guys are getting married.”

Chaeyoung mumbled something to her, but you couldn’t hear it. If you had to guess she told her to lay it off, which you were admittedly thankful for.

“I don’t even have gifts,” you groaned, remembering that your outfit wasn’t the only issue plagueing your mind. “Do I bring an actual gifts? Or just wine? Flowers? Something more personal? I don’t fucking know.”

“Do you have to bring them anything?” Hoseok asked, frowning. “I mean yeah, I guess it’s Christmas and you’re meeting them for the first time, but I don’t know, I’m not sure if you have to bring them anything.”

“I don’t think you do. They’re just happy to meet you, I promise,” Jimin said, squeezing your shoulder, but somehow, his answer annoyed you even more. Because what if he was wrong? And they use it as a reason as to why they didn’t like you because you showed up empty handed? Poor and rude? You wouldn’t even take a single step in their home. And even if Jimin was right, that they were just happy to meet you—it seemed even worse. Because all you had to show for yourself to Jungkook’s parents then would be…. yourself. 

And what if that wasn’t enough?

You groaned, leaning back again. Everything was making your situation only worse, giving you an even bigger headache, feeding the heavy pit in your stomach. And as you spiraled, you didn’t notice the rather obvious text Chaeyoung send, or the even more obvious way Jimin’s phone lit up on the table to display it, just for him to quickly grab it and start typing. Jisoo leaned over to look, and Chaeyoung quickly mumbled something into Hoseok’s ear. You wouldn’t even notice the way Chaeyoung jumped when you spoke suddenly again,

“Let’s just finish eating and go home. I wanna go home.” 

No one protested.

By the end, the fries were gone and the grease had eaten through the recycled brown paper plates, and your mood wasn’t much better, still the same level of annoyance always buzzing in the back of your mind. Grabbing the bags from the various shops you had walked in and out of with your friends today, you made your way out of the mall. Stepping outside, you hugged yourself, the wind harsher than the past few days. 

“What way is your car again?” you asked, teeth gritting. Your question was aimed at Chaeyoung, but you didn’t have the nerve to look at her. With the tip of your boot, you scraped against the concret, enjoying the way it rolled back and forth. You lifted your head when no one would answer, confused by the silence.

“Oh, uh,” Chaeyoung began, glancing at Jimin who was typing away on his phone. “Give us… a minute.”

She said it as if it was a question, gesturing for you to wait. You looked over to Jisoo and Hoseok for some sort of explanation, but they both kept their mouths shut.

“Where’s your girlfriend’s car?”

Hoseok blushed, and you knew he still wasn’t used to the development of his and Chaeyoung’s relationship. It was cute, and it did make you smile a little.

“Just tell me.” 

You tried nice. Nice didn’t work.

“I-I don’t know.” 

You sighed, your hands on your hips, shopping bags knocking on your legs. The cold wavered your voice.

“Ji?”

But rather than even say anything, or make an attempt to stall you, she waved you off, flicking her wrist back and forth. At least, Hoseok and Chaeyoung tried to dismiss you subtly.

“Oh my God, what are you guys looking at? Can we just go home, I’m really cold here and I just wanna-”

“Ah, yes, he’s here!” Jimin exclaimed before slapping his hand over his mouth, eyes wide. “Oops.”

You stopped, not needing a second to understand. Jisoo punched his arm. 

“You texted Jeon?”

If you were upset and annoyed before, you were even more so now. You leaned forward, as if the reality weighed down on you and physically pushed you. Your eyes darted back and forth between your friends before ultimately landing on Jimin, who was shrinking in on himself.

“Are you guys for real?” you hissed, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. You could have ripped out your hair. “But why?”

Everyone looked to Chaeyoung. “We- we think it’d be good if you talk to him. You’re clearly stressed about meeting his parents, so why not talk about it?”

She added on a smile, and you closed your eyes, groaning. 

“Guys, I’m fine.” You dug your hands through your hair, looking over your shoulder, relieved to see that he was nowhere. “Where is he? Is he here already? Tell him to go home. He has a paper to-”

An arm wrapped around your shoulder, and you didn’t need to look to know who it was.

“Go home.”

“Damn, hi, it’s nice to see you too, cabbage,” Jungkook laughed, grinning at you even as you frowned at him. He pinched your nose, and you didn’t even have it in you to swat his hand aside, closing your eyes instead. 

“You guys weren’t kidding. She’s in a bad mood.”

Your frown deepened, mouth setting into a thin line. Jungkook squeezed your shoulder, quietly apologising to you for his comment, but his smile remained on his lips. 

“Alright, I think—” Chaeyoung hooked her arm into Hoseok’s. “—it’s time to go.”

“Yeah, don’t worry, I’ll take her home,” Jungkook said, nodding to confirm his own words. “Get home safe.”

“Great, text us when you get home,” Jisoo said, waving at you. “We love you, Y/N! And oh, nice scarf!”

Jungkook laughed, thanking her.

“Yeah, good luck, Kook! Also love ya, Y/N!” Jimin laughed before taking off, sprinting ahead, scared you might just throw one of your bags after him. (Which you were strongly considering) The others waved you goodbye, and even though you were more than ticked off, you did the same, mumbling a goodbye their way. God knows they had put up with your attitude with enough grace today already. You sighed once they left your sight, shrugging off Jungkook.

You looked at him and your gaze softened, if only a little. Even more so when you saw it, wrapped around his neck so prettily. There was something very messy about him today—his hair not done in its usual way, hanging into his eyes, getting longer each time you saw him, the collar of his coat not folded down properly. If you had to guess, he had walked out the moment he got the text from Jimin. But he had thought of your scarf, looped it around his neck carefully. Looking at him now, out in the cold, you were glad you had invested the time into learning how to knit. The scarf suited him, the red matching him well. You were almost tempted to knit another one, one in every colour.

“You’re wearing the scarf.”

“Of course,” he returned, smiling at you, and you wondered if his cheeks hurt, red from the cold. 

The thought embarrassed you. You looked down, returning to rolling the tip of your boot on the conrete, back and forth, back and forth.

“Go home.”

“Okay, yeah, let’s go home together.”

He reached to take the bags from you, but you pulled away, lifting your head. “No, Jeon, go home. I’m fine.”

Jungkook shoved his hands into his pockets, shaking his head. This wasn’t going to be easy, he realised. “And how will you get home?”

His question made you frown, as if that was the issue at hand right now. You almost scoffed.

“I’ll walk-”

“Right, because walking in the cold is such a good idea, hm?

“Fine, I’ll take the bus.”

“Do you even know where the next bus station is?” 

“I can look it up.”

“Or you can just, you know,“ he leaned towards you, and you couldn’t back off, “not be so stubborn and let me just give you a ride home.”

You pursed your lips, shaking your head. Why was he being oh so frustrating? Why couldn’t he make this easy for you? Why wasn’t he at all discouraged by your behaviour? It didn’t make any sense to you. He should be annoyed with you and your attitude, infuriated because you were being difficult for no real reason. And yet, he smiled and laughed at you, showed you patience. It was strange to you, unexpected.

“I never asked you to pick me up.” 

It was like you were a goddamn teenager, fighting with her parents, trying your very best to tick them off. It was like you wanted him to be mad at you, and in some ways, in some real ways, maybe you did. You felt sorry for your friends about your attitude, but not with Jungkook somehow. For some reason, you couldn’t extend the same empathy to him. At least not in this moment.

He didn’t say anything, hesitated, his brows creasing together. His eyes darted to the ground before ultimately finding you again, tongue in his cheek, nodding. For a moment, you thought you won, did it. 

“Yeah, you didn’t,” Jungkook said, taking one two three steps in your direction, slowly prying the shopping bags from you. “But I’m still here to pick you up.”

And when he met you with a smile, you knew there wasn’t anything you could do. You let your head hang, as tears shot into your eyes. It had never happened before, you were never one quick to cry, but right now you felt like it. You blinked them away, not allowing Jungkook to know.

He took your silence as a sign of defeat, which it was. Very much so. He had won, and you had to admit that you were actually relieved. That he had proven you wrong, that he hadn’t just left after you had repeatedly insisted he should, or gotten annoyed and sick with you. 

Jungkook shifted all of the shopping bags into one hand, using his free one to grab yours. Like he would, of course he would, he placed a kiss on the back of your hand before putting your hands into his coat pocket to keep warm, together. You could have begun crying again.

“Be a good girlfriend, alright?” he told you, leading you to his car, and you scoffed, hoping your voice didn’t sound as unstable and shaky as you felt.

“Be a good girlfriend?” you repeated, raising a brow. Jungkook was quick to see his mistake and correct himself,

“I mean, let me be a good boyfriend to my girlfriend and pick her up after a—” He hesitated, squinting as if he was searching for the right word. “—fun, right?”

There was something inherently cheeky and smug about Jungkook. But you couldn’t quite take offence to any of it, nodding, even if you knew that today wasn’t the funnest day. (And you were to blame.)

“Fun day at the mall with her friends.”

You pressed your lips together. “But what about your paper?”

He paused and looked at you before shaking his head and laughing. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I’m almost done. I’ll finish it at your place.”

His hand squeezed yours, and you hated how warm he made you feel. How the warmth spread from your chest to the the tips of your ears and feet. How even if you tried, he remained patient with you. You hated it because it made it so much harder, for you not to fall for him again and again. You hated it because you almost believed him that you could be one of those stupidly in love couples that held hands in their pockets and made each other scarfs.

Jungkook opened the car door for you, and you climbed inside, thankful for the few seconds you had to yourself as he loaded your shopping bag into the trunk. Without a word, he gave you his phone, and by now, you knew the drill. 

You unlocked his phone in second before quickly typing in your current location into Google maps. Your address popped up at the top, bookmarked, when you tapped to enter the destination. Handing him his phone back, you wondered what Jungkook’s password meant, 09052020. It seemed so oddly specific, but you didn’t bother asking.

“You should show me what you got.”

The water remained in your mouth a second longer before you swallowed it, slowly screwing the top back on the bottle, eyes set on Jungkook. You shook your head and leaned against your kitchen counter. He was just a few steps away from you, sitting on your couch, taking up all the space, arms spread left and right. 

“Yeah, I don’t think so.”

He gave you a look, as if to say oh please! His head rolled back for a second.

“I think you should.”

You didn’t respond, pulling your phone out of your pocket instead. Deeming your silence as enough of an answer, you scrolled through your phone, opening the group chat between your friends and you, your feet crossing at your ankle. But before you could even read one text-

“But isn’t that why you were in a bad mood?”

It seemed brave of Jungkook to address it so openly. Or maybe just incredibly honest. You couldn’t do it. He didn’t seem afraid at all that you might just dip back into your bad mood at the mention of it and come out bats swinging. It was admirable in some ways. You didn’t rememeber him to be this confrontative a few months ago when you started this, him and you. He seemed to have found a confidence with you now, convinced he knew the ins and outs of you. Maybe he did. He probably did, in some ways. You couldn’t say if you liked it all that much.

You snorted, an attempt to make light of the situation. “Yeah, so why bring it up again?”

Jungkook reached his hands out to you, a gesture for you to come his way. You thought about it for a moment before abandoning both your phone and the water bottle on the kitchen counter and moving over. He scooted to the edge of your couch to allow you to step between his legs. His hands held yours, thumbs brushing the inner part of your wrist, back and forth.

“My parents don’t care,” he told you, staring up at you with his big eyes, squeezing your hands as he spoke, physically stressing his words. “They really don’t care, I promise you. They’re just excited to meet you. And so am I, excited.”

He paused, allowing his words to sink in with you and take effect. 

“But I know you care and you’re stressed about it,” Jungkook mumbled, and you couldn’t look at him, eyes finding the floor instead, right where your carpet curled up because sometimes your couch would dig into it and flip it up. It was so very embarrassing that he knew how much you cared. It felt like you were ripping out your heart and letting him inspect it. You wanted to correct him, set the record straight that really, you didn’t care at all whatsoever! but it felt like a cheap attempt, even more humiliating.

“So why don’t you show me?” he asked, shaking your hands to get you to look at him. You didn’t want to but did anyway. His gaze was soft, just like his smile, and his hair fell into his eyes. You brushed it away. It made his smile widen, so much so he brought your hand to his lips and kissed it.

It was sealed for you then.

“Alright, fine,” you sighed, defeated, moving away from him to dig through your shopping bags. “Look away.”

“What? Why?”

“What do you mean?” you frowned. “I’m changing.”

Jungkook’s features morphed from a frown to a smile in a second before he ultimately began laughing. “Are you really gonna be too embarrassed to change in front of me?” He gave you a moment to deny it. “I’ve seen and touched-”

“Oh my God, just turn around,” you hissed, and for some reason, your cheeks were as hot as the sun. “Either that, or I won’t try on anything.”

He exhaled the most dramatic sigh he could, making a point to show you that he even pressed his hands to his eyes. Just for that, you wanted to kick him. But you should have known that Jungkook wasn’t quite done, needing to squeeze in one more comment, purely to annoy you and nothing more. There wasn’t anything serious about it at all, no deeper meaning.

“Are you gonna be like this when we’re married with kids?”

You froze, arms up and your face mushed together by your sweater and half of your body exposed to the naked air with only your bra to show for. He wasn’t serious, you knew. There was lightness and an obvious teasing embedded with his words. You doubted Jungkook even expected a response from you, probably just enjoyed knowing he made you flustered even if he couldn’t see it. And yet, your heart began pounding and your hands sweating and your cheeks burning and your mind reeling for any possible retort you could offer. Before you could stutter something, he spoke again,

“Sorry.”

The smile was evident in his voice, and when you finally peeled off your sweater, you turned out to be right. You shook your head, throwing your sweater at him before you could think better of it. It hit him in the face.

“Ow, cabbage! That’s not fair, I have my eyes-” 

“I’m so close to kicking you out, you know?” you mumbled, keeping your voice quiet as if raising it by any means was dangerous. You pulled off your pants and your stockings you had layered underneath for some extra warmth.

“I said I’m sorry, cabbage.” 

But Jungkook sounded far from sincere. You didn’t bother responding, grabbing one of the shopping bags and slipping on the sweater you had thrifted. It was off the shoulders and this warm midnight blue colour, rich and beautiful and cozy. You moved to your old dresser and pulled out the black maxi skirt you had thought to combine it with. The outfit was simple, but with the right accesoires (ones you would still have to buy which the thought of it already gave you a headache), it could work. At least, it could in theory because when you looked at yourself in your full body mirror (which you had thrifted when you had first moved in), you frowned.

“Can I look?”

You gave a grunt in response, still looking at your reflection as if you had put together the most hideous outfit possible. It wasn’t much of a yes or no, so for a few seconds Jungkook hesitated, but he slowly peeled his eyes open.

“Oh, cabbage! You look so amazing-”

“No.”

It was as simple as that for you, shaking your head.

“What? But you look-”

“I don’t like it,” you said, already moving to take off the skirt. “Close your eyes.”

You expected some sort of protest from Jungkook, but he actually did as you said. Just as quick as you had decided that the outfit wouldn’t work, you peeled it off of you. You rummaged through your next shopping bags, looking at the pieces you had gotten—a cream knit sweater and white maxi skirt. But all of a sudden, you hated it. You clearly remembered loving the clothes in the store, giving the outfit a couple spins and scrutiniscing it from head to toe until it was deemed worthy of your money. But right now as you looked at it, you felt quite the opposite.

With a sigh, you pulled the last shopping bag towards you. It had the dress your friends had mentioned you should wear. This time, you didn’t inspect it any further, not having the nerve for it. So you just bunched up the fabric and slipped it on. But you didn’t tell Jungkook you were finished changing. Instead you turned and looked at yourself in the mirror first.

Jisoo had found it for you—a maxi slip dress. It was in a beautiful and rich wine red colour, oozing warmth, and soft to the touch. The satin flowed down your body, hugging your curves, and reflecting your dim living room lights like water. Lace was stitched along the neckline, which otherwise probably would have been a little too low given the occasion. The straps securing the dress were tied up into small ribbons around your shoulders, giving it a more dainty and playful look. The slit on the left side reached up until your knee, allowing the fabric to move along with your body in harmony. It was a beautiful dress, made for any occasion with the correct accessoires and styling. 

You were objectively and undeniably beautiful in it. 

And yet, you stared at yourself as if it wasn’t, brows knitted together and lips pursed in a pout, eyes wandering up and down. It wasn’t insecurity—you felt great and comfortable in the dress. But something about it just wasn’t right. You tried imaging yourself all dolled up in it, hair and makeup done to your liking, but the frown remained. It wasn’t perfect enough.

You shook your head, moving to take it off. When you turned on your heel, you looked straight at Jungkook, and Jungkook looked straight at you. His eyes were big and wide and set on you, his mouth agape and curling up into a smile. You gasped, both in surprise and upset.

“W-why are you looking?” you hissed, feeling the heat crawl up your neck, and you threw your arms around yourself.

“I’m sorry. You- you just took so long, cabbage. And so I looked and…” Jungkook finished his sentence with a simple shrug and smile. You frowned at his answer, shaking your head.

“Close your eyes,” you spat through gritted teeth, turning around to change out of the dress. “I’m changing-”

“What? Why?” Jungkook sounded genuinely confused, jumping up from his seat and moving your way, shaking his head. “You look amazing! Please don’t change. I love this dress on you!”

He stopped short in front of you, turning you around and taking your hands into his. 

“This dress suits you so well,” he whispered as if it was some sort of secret. You looked to the mirror behind you, inspected yourself, eyes shooting up and down. Jungkook stepped behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, his fingers interlacing in front of the soft of your belly. He pushed you to lean fully against him, his eyes scanning every inch of you.

“You’re so pretty. So very pretty.” 

His words tasted like Christmas chocolate, were thick with honey and sugar, stuck to your teeth. They were bad. Horrible. For you and your heart. Because they sounded so very believable. 

“You look incredible.”

He finished with a kiss to the back of your head, and you didn’t know where to look. You placed your hands on his, tentatively, and he was quick to take them into his, scoop them up and hold them tight. He had to know, you thought to yourself, how hard your heart was beating.

“Don’t you like it?”

You met his gaze in the mirror, mouth settled into a line. 

“I like the dress,” you said, tilting your head. 

“But?”

“I don’t like it for…”

“Meeting my parents?” Jungkook supplied when you wouldn’t finish your sentence, and you didn’t answer, averting your gaze instead. “What do you not like about it?”

You closed your eyes, feeling so very silly. Because you couldn’t say. You didn’t know. There shouldn’t be anything to dislike about the dress, nothing about it was wrong—you loved every little detail, and even more how you felt in it.

“What do you think?” 

“I don’t think my opinion really matters here,” Jungkook laughed, and you peeled your eyes open, a smile tugging on the corners of your lips. He was annoying. Just couldn’t provide you with a simple answer when he even has already voiced his thoughts. “But I think you look really pretty in this dress.”

You scrunched your nose. “How pretty?”

“So pretty I wouldn’t mind going blind now.”

You smiled, no, grinned. He was so stupid.

“So pretty I can’t believe you don’t like it.” 

You tilted your head to the side.

“So pretty I don’t want you to ever take it off again.” 

He pressed kisses to your neck and shoulder, nose burying into your hair, words mumbled into your skin, and hands beginning to wander further south, scrunching the fabric. You let him.

”So pretty I want to take a picture of you and print it out and hang it up above my bed and also keep another one in my wallet and change my background picture to-”

“O-okay, enough!” you said, pushing him away from you because your limbs were beginning to tingle and burn, and his touch was sending shocks through your entire body. Even more so, his hands were beginning to go to places he shouldn’t, not right now at least. You made sure to keep him at an arm’s length, palm pressing into his chest, in fear he’d simply close the distance if you didn’t physically stop him.

“You’re so ridiculous, Jeon,” you said, shaking your head, laughing a little. “You can never be serious, can you?”

“But I am! I’m very serious! Looking at you makes me wanna-”

You were quick to shake your head, hands pressing to your ears because no no no, you didn’t want to know! All while you were smiling, grinning almost. Without realising it, Jungkook had done the impossible—lifted your mood, made you laugh when you felt irritated and annoyed by everything before. 

“Fine, I won’t tell you!” Jungkook sighed, dramatically rolling his eyes. You looked at him, lowering your hands, your smile cemented on your lips.

“You’re so stupid, Jeon,” you mumbled, scrunching your nose, and he gasped in faux upset.

“That’s so mean, cabbage!”

“Oh, just shut up.”

Jungkook slung his arms around your middle, doing so before you could even think to stop him. His chin dropped to your shoulder, hands scopping up yours again and eyes meeting in the mirror.

“So, what do we think?”

You raised a brow. “Now, it’s we? I thought your thoughts didn’t matter-”

He sighed, closing his eyes for a second. “Fine, what do you think?”

And you inspected yourself again, gaze wandering up and down. You didn’t know what it was, but the dress seemed different now. It was still the same fabric, same cut, nothing had changed, but you remembered why you had bought the dress, why you had taken Jisoo up on her offer to try it on when she had shown it to you. Because it was beautiful, even more so with you in it.

“Is this the dress?” Jungkook whispered into your ear, and you knew he was hoping for a yes. 

You tilted your head to the side, heart beating faster when you opened your mouth. Because yes, it was. The dress, choosing it, it was another step closer to meeting Jungkook’s parents, another hurdle out of the way. Your eyes met his in the mirror, his face so close to yours. The two of you standing there together, you almost could convince yourself you were an actual couple.

“Yeah, it is.”

He beamed, tightening his arms around you, letting out a small sigh of relief. “Okay, good, I’m glad.”

You lowered your gaze, and you wondered if he maybe feared you wouldn’t go because you couldn’t find anything to wear. If maybe that was the reason for why he came so quickly because he didn’t want you to use that excuse. Because otherwise he would have to explain to his precious and perfect parents why his girlfriend refused to meet them-

“How does the 22nd sound to you by the way?” Jungkook asked, pulling you out of your trains of thoughts, almost as if he knew. He mumbled the words into your skin, and you felt every move of his lips. “To meet my parents, I mean.”

Just eight days.

“Y-yeah, that… should work,” you returned, breathless and high pitched, eyes finding the floor. He stared at you in the reflection, nudging you to do the same. You hesitated, but did as he said, breath hitching in your throat when you saw the way he was looking at you, oh so sincere and genuine.

“It’s gonna be fine.”

There was something assuring about the way he said it. If anyone elses told you these words, it would do you no good, bring you no relief. But when he did, it did. It was silly really.

“I promise you.”

“Yeah, really, Jeon?” you laughed shallowly, tucking a strand behind your ear and swallowing. “You promise me?”

And as if looking at your mere reflection just wasn’t enough for him, Jungkook turned you around by your hips, forcing your eyes to meet his. 

“I promises you, cabbage. I won’t leave you for one second, alright? Hell, I will drive you there and home again, okay? I’ll be there with you for every second of the day, from the moment you wake up to the moment you go back to bed, glued to your side, so much so you’ll be so annoyed by me that you’ll want me gone. You won’t even go the bathroom on your own, okay?” He paused for a second, scrunching his nose. “I’ll make sure you will have the most non awkward but perfect and fun evening possible.”

His phrasing made you laugh, ebbed the waves of anxiety crashing onto your mind over and over again when you thought a little too much about the next week. His parents, him and you, in one room. 

“It’s gonna be great.”

Jungkook smiled at you, a little too bright and too wide. You returned it to the best of your abilities, letting him pull you back into a hug, eyes falling shut.

“Okay, I believe you,” you told him, hearing his heart beating in his chest. “For once.”

He tightened his arms around you.

(“Do you think it will have snowed by then?” he asked you when the intro to the new episode of Avatar began playing on his laptop. You looked up, eyes catching his, your head rested against his chest and his arms around you.

“What?”

“By the 22nd I mean. Do you think it will have snowed by then?”

You frowned, thinking of the last few winters. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

He thought about your answer for a few more seconds, looking off to the side before returning your gaze. “I hope. I’d like to spend a proper white Christmas with you.”

“Pray to the Gods then,” you said. “Chances aren’t so good.”

The past few years it had always only snowed in January.

“Oh, I do, every day,” Jungkook laughed, and you hummed, focusing back on the episode and missing the way his gaze softened at your sight.)

“Okay, so I’ll be back right before New Year,” Chaeyoung said, giving her calendar one last look before snapping it close again. “Who of us is gonna be here?”

Hoseok and you both let out affirmative noises, and Jimin raised his hand in a yes as well, mouth stuffed with his sandwich. You scooted closer to the table to let a guy squeeze through as he made his way to the lunch table with his friends, a tray full of bland and dry cafeteria food.

“I’m not sure yet,” Jisoo said, taking a handful of grapes from her purple grape shaped lunch box and plopping each one into her mouth. “My sister asked if I wanted to celebrate New Year’s with her. But maybe she’ll go over to her girlfriend’s. She isn’t sure yet. I’ll text you guys?”

“I’ll be here the entire holidays,” Namjoon sighed. “I still have finals.”

“Ah, I’m sorry,” you said, offering him a smile. He waved you off, mumbling something about how at least he was almost finished up with it all. 

“Well, at least we will be spending New Year’s together, right?” Jimin said with a smile.

You took a sip from your green tea, needing warmth because your University never turned on the heaters, preferring their students to freeze. Where did your tuition money go? 

“Okay, but how about Christmas eve for everyone else? When are you guys heading back home again?” Hoseok asked, shovelling his protein oatmeal into his mouth. “You’re going tonight, right, Ji? With Jennie?”

“Yeah, our train’s booked for 8 pm.”

“I’ll go on the 23rd,” Jimin said, and Chaeyoung echoed the same. 

“You’re going tomorrow, right?” she asked Hoseok, and he nodded. “When are you meeting Kook’s parents again, Y/N? The 22nd?”

“Yeah.” You played with the lip of your paper cup, feeling the warmth of your tea. Your heart grew a little heavier, scared one of them would ask when you’d go meet your parents. Because you weren’t, at least not on Christmas eve. Both of them had to work, unable to take a day off. It was an irrational fear, you were aware. Because your friends knew that very well. They’d never ask, but your heart didn’t understand.

“That’s- oh my God, that’s in four days, huh?” Jisoo gasped, and the horror and terror gripping you must have reflected on your face because she was quick to interject. “Oh, sorry. No, it’s gonna be great, Y/N. I don’t know why I said that. That was stupid.”

“You’re still anxious about it, huh?” Hoseok mumbled, and though he worded it like a question, all of you knew the answer.

“Hard not to be,” you said, voice a little short and curt. “It comes in… waves.”

Namjoon patted your shoulder. “It’s gonna be fine.”

Chaeyoung reached for your hand, squeezing it. “Yeah, I’m sure. We’re all gonna be there for you if it does somehow go wrong—which I highly, highly doubt might I add.”

“Well, not Jisoo. She’s gonna be home, busy showing off her Jennie,” you joked, trying to make light of the situation but it sounded just slightly off.

“What? I can’t be there for you from home?” Jisoo gasped, and before you could question how she’d do that, she continued. “I’m there for you too, telepathically! Jennie too! In your heart! Always! Over the phone! Don’t doubt us!”

You laughed a little, mouthing an apology.

“But you definitely won’t need us,” Jimin said. “Because it’s gonna be fine. Especially because Kook’s gonna make sure of it, okay?”

Before you could return something, your eyes were drawn to the doors.

Oh.

Your friends followed your gaze.

Jungkook had his backpack strapped to his shoulder and the red scarf wrapped around his neck. It shouldn’t be possible. You were technically too far for you to properly see, but you saw it—the tension in his shoulders, the strain in his nape, the deep knit between his brows. He was…. annoyed. It was new to you. For a moment, you almost expected to find Narae walking behind him, bugging him, hot on his trail. It would explain it to you, and you would just simply walk over there and pull him to your table. Just like that, you would ease the knit between your brows, take the tension out of his shoulders and neck-

But it wasn’t Narae. 

It was Taehyung. 

He said something to Jungkook that made him roll his eyes. Jungkook didn’t seem to want to respond, shaking his head and waving his hand around, an attempt to end the conversation. But Taehyung wasn’t so kind, going on, even taking hold of his shoulder.

“Someone is in a mood,” Namjoon mumbled, cringing.

“What are they talking about, Y/N?” Jimin asked, looking at you, and you stared right back at him, frowning.

“How would I know?”

“You’re his girlfriend.”

“So?”

“Go find out.”

“What? I just walk up to them and say,” you raised your voice a few pitches, “‘Oh my God, hi, you guys are clearly fighting. Care to share?’ Is that what you want?”

Jimin blinked, shrugging. “Sure, that would work.”

“You’re so ridiculous, Jimin,” you hissed, touching a hand to your forehead. “That wouldn’t work.”

“Of course, it would. Kook’s absolutely obsessed-”

“Oh my God, shut up,” Chaeyoung hissed, slapping Jimin. “They’re looking!”

“You guys are always so loud,” Hoseok sighed, and you sent him a glare because no, you don’t! It’s just Jimin!

But they were right. Taehyung and Jungkook were both looking at you, their conversation having come to an end. When you met his gaze, Jungkook’s face contorted into something else, features twitching. You couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but it wasn’t the usual. He didn’t soften in the way you were used to when he would see you. And when you tried a smile, Jungkook struggled to return it. You felt shot, and your smile faltered.

But Jimin didn’t sense it at all, wildly waving his hand around, gesturing for the two to come this way. And as if it wasn’t more obvious, he yelled it too, “Hey, Tae and Kook! Come join us!”

Jisoo sighed, “He’s such an idiot.”

Chaeyoung and Hoseok shrugged, as if to say well, it’s Jimin. They were right, it was just Jimin being himself, unaware and impulsive. Namjoon didn’t have any words, shaking his head. 

Jungkook and Taehyung looked at each other, exchanging a few words before the latter glanced at his watch and shook his head. He had to go. Taehyung placed his hand on Jungkook’s shoulder, whispering something into his ear. You must have imagined it but it looked like he glanced in your direction. But before you could think about it, Taehyung headed in the same direction he had previously come from, and Jungkook slowly made his way over, not meeting your eyes once.

“What were you arguing about?” Jimin asked when Jungkook stood in front of you, and you watched him grip the strap of his backpack, the skin over his knuckles stretching thin.

“Jimin!” Jisoo hissed, punching him. 

“Ow!”

“Right, yeah, of course, you’d ask,” he smiled. “It’s fine.”

Jungkook said it with a laugh, but it was all wrong. 

“We weren’t arguing.” 

And as if it wasn’t enough, Jungkook put on his brightest and biggest smile. He showed it to everyone. Like a stone plunged into the deep sea, your heart sank. You had seen it before, that smile. It had decorated his lips during the Halloween party when you first walked in, or when you had first hurt his feelings while you had gone costume shopping. 

Namjoon and you looked at each other shortly, both of you sensing it. 

“Is everything-”

“Well, it looked like you were,” Jimin mumbled, accidentally interrupting Namjoon. He waited for Jungkook to budge and cave under his gaze, but when he wouldn’t, he shrugged. “Come sit.”

Maybe he could feel your burning gaze on him, but Jungkook finally glanced in your direction. If only for a second, so very brief. But it dug into your heart and split it open, gutted you and left you utterly empty. You had seen him just yesterday, picked out your dress together, parted ways this morning a few hours ago, and now he seemed like another person. He looked so sad, sad in a way you hadn’t seen before. You didn’t think that any emotion close to that had ever crossed his features, not in your presence at least. It was so new and surprising to you—because somehow in your mind, you had forgotten he had the ability to feel… upset—you froze.

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” Jungkook said, nailing that same smile back onto his lips as before. “But I’ll see you guys around.”

And before any of you could protest, he was gone, back turned to your table and heading into the crowd. 

“Well, that was… weird,” Chaeyoung said, pointing out the elephant in the room. And as if she had said your name, everyone turned to you for some kind of answer.

You blinked back at them. “Yeah, I-I don’t know.”

There was another beat of silence before ultimately your friends shrugged.

“Maybe it’s just not a good day?” Hoseok proposed, and they were all quick to agree, moving on. And though you didn’t voice it, you knew it wasn’t that. It couldn’t just be that. 

You knew it was about you. It had to be. Taehyung had glanced at your direction. You hadn’t imagined it, that much you were sure of. And the fact Jungkook hadn’t been able to look at you cemented it for you. Your heart quickened, a certain question coming to the front of your mind.

What if Jungkook didn’t want you to meet his parents anymore?

Maybe it had finally clicked with him—what it meant if you met his parents. How ridiculous it was. Because you weren’t his girlfriend. It was his parents after all. How stupid all of it was actually. Not just you meeting his parents, but the entire contract you had. How far it had gone, too far.

You pressed your lips together, a knot forming in your throat. Maybe he didn’t know how to tell you now. Maybe you should be prepared for the very worst. Maybe this was it. Impact incoming! The fall was nearing its end, your end.

Your hands began shaking, curling around the edge of the table for stability. Panic built up within you, panic that really shouldn’t build up at all, you knew. Your friends blurred into an incohesive mess in front of you.

Oh God.

You didn’t see Jungkook for the rest of the day, or the one after that. In fact, you didn’t hear from him at all, until almost two days later. Maybe you should have reached out first—you did think about it. But you simply couldn’t, your hands shaking whenever you’d open your chat with him, your old messages staring back at you almost mockingly. Because what if he told you he wanted to end it? What if this was how it would end because you couldn’t wait and recklessly send a message?

There was a few seconds of silence, the sound of his breathing coming in through unsteadily. You gripped your phone tighter.

“Hey.”

Jungkook still sounded the same, and for some reason, you were surprised. Why you expected him to sound different, you didn’t know. 

“Hi,” you returned, swallowing because it was your voice, in fact, that sounded odd. At least it did to you. You cleared your throat.

Usually, he’d make some joke, ask you about your day, how you were doing, where you were, if you had watched the videos he’d sent you yet, eaten already. Usually, your conversation would be much lighter, easier. Right now, you felt the air hanging between you, pulling your legs closer to your chest as you waited and waited. He had called you, he would have to speak first.

“I’m sorry I didn’t join you guys for lunch the other day,” Jungkook mumbled, and you closed your eyes.

“It’s alright,” you said, a waver to your voice and you couldn’t decide if it was because you felt cold, even though you were tucked into your bed, or because you felt uncertain of it all, like you were standing at the edge of a cliff, the deep sea awaiting you on the other side, waves crashing up on you. 

Neither of you said anything. 

Your throat grew dry, the questions coming back up again within you. Was he going to tell you over the phone? That he didn’t want you to meet his parents anymore. Maybe even that he wanted to call this entire thing off. That he’d realised this wasn’t worth it anymore, doing all of this to win a stupid bet he’d made with Taehyung months ago. It had gotten too exhausting, you had gotten too exhausting for him. Let’s just end it here, tell everyone you’d just fallen out of love. Hell maybe he’d be even willing to tell everyone the truth, how they’d been fooled. It had all been an act! How fun! How could you all think he was in love with-

“Everything’s alright.”

You paused. “What?”

“I-” Jungkook faltered, letting out a laugh. It came through oh so light and clear. Just not quite genuine. Or maybe you were imagining it, your mind dissecting every of his words. “I’m just trying to say- things are alright. It’s gonna be okay.”

And for some reason, you knew the words weren’t meant to reassure you. But him. He needed it right now, more than you. You blinked, nodded as if he could see.

“Yeah, everything’s alright,” you repeated, quietly. “It’s gonna be okay.”

What exactly he referred to, you weren’t sure. And you weren’t going to ask. He’d tell you when he wanted you to know, when he was ready. Truth be told, you weren’t even entirely sure if you were ready for it, couldn’t say either where your confidence that it’d be alright came from. 

“It will, right?” he laughed again, that same laugh. It came through now, the tinge of uncertainty swinging with his voice. 

You added a small smile, reassurance. “Of course, it will. Always has.”

Jungkook waited a beat, thought about it for a second. “Yeah, no, yeah you’re right.”

And then, you both went back to silence again. You were the one to break it, doing so before you could think better of it and retreat. The question slipped so quickly past your lips, came out of you with the answer to it packaged within already. For once, you dared something, held out your heart.

“Do you want to come over?”

The question seemed alright at first. He’d tell you he was already on his way, in fact. Had you not heard the engine this entire time? Actually, look outside! How silly of you, he had gotten you again. You’d laugh, buzz him up while telling him how annoying he was. He’d fall into your arms, coat and scarf and shoes still on. There’d be no time for you to tell him to at least take off his shoes because he’d knock you over with his entire weight. But you’d hold him up, if not barely and struggling heavily. You’d do it, and you’d do it with a smile. He’d press a kiss to your lips and ask you again if things would just be fine. And you’d do the same as you did on the phone, like a good girlfriend does, you’d reassure him over and over again until you’d be too tired and fall asleep together. Things would truly be alright, you’d meet his parents and maybe resolve it all. Maybe he and you could be something, more. Maybe he meant it, all of it, the gestures and words and kisses. He and you, together, it could be possible-

“I’m sorry—” You wanted him to stop then. He didn’t need to elaborate. It was enough. You bit down on your tongue, hard. “I’m… just really tired today.”

Jungkook hesitated, spoke slowly, and you wanted to laugh it off, tell him it was alright and to go to sleep, but your throat knotted into a terrible mess. 

He didn’t want you to meet his parents.

“Hm.”

It was the only response you could offer. Because if you spoke, he would know, and he couldn’t know—the tears that shot into your eyes.

You pressed your hand to your mouth, and wondered if your reassurance had done anything at all. If not actually you had needed it, even more than he did. 

“I think- classes was exhausting, so yeah. You know, right? So I’m gonna go to bed now,” Jungkook said, and you nodded, as if he could see you, and if you checked, you’d realise it was just eight. You bit your tongue harder.

He never liked you.

“Okay,” you squeaked out, your voice a few pitches too high. He had to know, you were sure of it. Anyone would know, even a drunk Jimin could figure it out. It was blatantly obvious, and you pressed your hand harder against your mouth, scared as you awaited what he’d say. You wouldn’t know how to answer his questions if he asked you why you cried. It would be utterly humiliating to admit why—that you knew you never meant anything to him beyond what you’d agreed upon, but that he did to you. So much, in fact. 

“Goodnight-”

You ended the call, your phone displayed his name for a few more seconds before you tossed it aside, uncaring that it bounced off your bed and you’d have to look for it later on the floor. A part of you wanted to laugh, outright laugh out loud, laugh so loud because maybe it would drown it out. Because were you not just silly? Stupid? Even more so for the tears that rolled down your face and stained your duvet three shades darker. Clear evidence of your silliness, your delusion, your unwavering and foolish hope. 

It embarrassed and humiliated you, how quickly the tears came, how his words had crashed onto you, ship-wrecked you, buried you under. His words hurt, and his dismissal even more. Two words had been enough, had pierced your heart and left you tiptoeing a cliff. Jungkook had more power than you thought he did, power he shouldn’t be holding over your head and heart to begin with. Power he shouldn’t have because you didn’t have it over him.

A text awaited you one morning, just a day before the 22nd.

[Jeon - 07:01 AM] : can i come over later tonight?

And a text was all it took.

Jungkook was not even a second late. Someone was in a hurry to get this over with, it almost made you laugh. Your doorbell rang the moment the clock turned seven. Still, you shrieked, hesitated, stared at your front door like you hadn’t known he’d come, like you hadn’t expected him to come.

You busied yourself with your phone, swiping back and forth, as he climbed up the stairs, your back turned to the door. You just couldn’t watch as he stepped inside. This was it. He’d tell you that he’d realised this had gotten too far, out of hand. You wouldn’t have to meet his parents tomorrow, you had done your part. He’d thank you, assure you he’d break the news to your friends and take the blame. It’d be alright, you wouldn’t have to do anything. And just like before you had ever talked to Jungkook at the vending machine, you’d go your own ways. 

His steps grew louder, echoed less and less until he was inside. A draft pulled through your small flat as he shut the door behind you, quiet but final. You shivered and turned off your phone, heart heavy in your chest as you prepared yourself to turn around and face him. You had thought about it all day, agonised how it’d be like to see him again the past week, how you’d handle this, how you could retain just a bit of your pride at the end of this. The scenario played over and over again in your mind—you’d look at him with a smile, tell him you understood perfectly and he didn’t need to explain. It had been stupid anyway, fun but stupid. Both of you knew this wasn’t anything really, it would come to an end. You didn’t mind it at all. 

“You know, it’s alright, Jeon. I know what you wanna-”

Jungkook wrapped his arms around you with his coat and scarf and shoes on. He pressed you to his chest, held you even tighter when you hesitated to return his hug, as if he needed to physically feel you, be sure you were there.

You hadn’t seen him all week, and all of a sudden, you didn’t know what to do around him anymore.

“Jeon?” 

“Can you hug me?” he asked you, voice barely above a whisper, and though you had been so sure about what would happen just seconds ago, pictured how your conversation would go, you realised you knew nothing at all. You did as he said, putting your arms around his middle and squeezing as tightly as you could, holding your breath even.

You didn’t know how long you stayed like this, but when you pulled away, Jungkook looked at you in a way you had never seen. He took your hands into his.

“I’m sorry, cabbage,” he began, and in the dim light, you could see his eyes glaze over. “I don’t know what’s been going on with me for the past week.”

He paused, breathed in deeply, looked to the side before returning his gaze to you. 

“I think- there’s just been a lot on my mind, and I had to figure it out first, I think,” he continued. “I-I don’t think I fully have, but I will, soon.”

You looked at him, silent for a few seconds before you nodded, brushing your thumbs over the inside of his wrists.

“That’s okay,” you told him, giving him a smile. “It’s fine. I understand.”

Truth be told, you didn’t know where you took your words from, where you dug up that reassurance again. Because you’d felt the opposite for the past week. It’d been a horrible week for you, sleepless and anxious. 

You’d been tiptoeing a thin line, wondering every second when exactly this would blow over, just how close you were to impact, when your fall would end. Would it be a text? A call? Would he just show up to your doorstep unannounced one evening after you had come back from exhausting classes and do it then? Or would it be Jimin who’d relayed the messages? Would he not tell you at all, deeming not worth the effort even? So, it had been nice to be told the truth—that things had been confusing for Jungkook and he hadn’t figured out how to navigate it all—and yet you weren’t sure if it was enough for you, if it qualmed your worries.

“I’m really sorry, cabbage,” Jungkook repeated, and you wondered what he was so sorry for that he needed to apologise twice. If maybe you were right. Why else would he feel so apologetic? Was the ending coming and he just needed some more time to figure out the order of his words, unable to bring it over his heart? 

You should ask him if the things plaguing his mind was how to end this. You should, really. Regardless of the answer, it would free you, however painful it might just be. You’d find peace. Maybe you feared the pain too much, the tears that would run down your face, the embarrassment that would rip you into pieces, or maybe you didn’t care enough for yourself to find out the truth, but you didn’t ask. 

Your smile grew bigger, and you didn’t know who you were fooling, him or you. “Don’t be. It’s okay, Jeon.”

Jungkook took your face into his hands, staring into your eyes, looking so intensely at you like he’d never before. He was searching something, and you weren’t sure if he found it, if you held whatever he looked for at all.

“It’ll be fine,” you said, and this was for you, not him. 

“It’ll be fine,” he repeated, nodding, and as he leaned closer to you, you wondered if the same would apply tomorrow. When you’d meet his parents, stand in front of them. When they’d scrutinise every little detail about you and come to their conclusion on who you were before you could even open your mouth and utter your name. 

You let Jungkook pull you into a kiss, returned it with the same intensity. Both of you needed it right now. What exactly you offered each other, you couldn’t pinpoint. But it was enough to silence your mind and his too. 

When his hands wandered, so did yours. He pushed you to your bed, and you let your mattress catch your fall. Your sweater landed on your floor, and soon the rest of your clothes followed. His coat and the scarf you had made him found its place at the foot of your bed. He struggled for a bit to kick off his boots before ultimately stumbling out of them.

Jungkook pressed kisses from your lips to your ear down to your neck and collarbone. Slowly, they wandered further down and down, stopping as he paid extra attention to the places he learned you liked, made your back arch in his favourite way and your breath hitch so beautifully in your throat. Soon, you were pleading with the Gods above, curling your hands around your duvet as Jungkook familiarised himself with you again. His hands pried you open, splitting you into two again and again, bringing you high above. You returned the favour, listened as he found religion through you, drawing out his relief until he needed your lips on his instead. By now, you knew him blindly, your hands finding the sensitive parts of him even as he carved his way back to yours.

“I’ve missed you,” Jungkook mumbled into your ear when he began moving, and you smiled, wrapped your arms around him. So had you. 

“Me too,” you returned, your hips finding a steady rhythm together. He pressed kisses to your skin, hands holding you oh so tightly like he usually would. But he hadn’t said it, hadn’t told you for the entire week, not even now when he would on any other day—that he loved you—and so maybe that was why you fell asleep with an uneasy heart. 

Had he not promised? That he’d be there for every second of the day, from the moment you woke up to the moment you went back to bed, glued to your side until you were sick of him? Was that not what he had said, the words he assured you with? So how was it that you awoke alone, like you had been for the entire past week, without him?

Jungkook wasn’t here, and yet you looked around your home like he could be hidden in some corner. He didn’t like you anymore, you were sure. Why would he? He never did to begin with. Probably regretted this more than anything else, realised just how exhausting it was to be with you. It wouldn’t be worth it. His parents wouldn’t like you, tell him that he could do better. He’d agree- actually he knew that already. Yesterday night had been a mistake, just like all the other times had been. He and you weren’t the same, never could be. Just like two mismatching puzzle pieces, you’d never make a whole picture together. You’d been right, of course. Jungkook could never like you, never saw you as anything more than a paw in this stupid cruel game between Taehyung and you. And you had been played, over and over again. How stupid of you. Foolish! This-

The blaring of your alarm brought you back to reality, the sound filling your ears. You had forgotten to turn it off. You reached for your phone, shutting it off but before you could toss it aside, you saw it. It made you pause, his name atop of your notifications. A voice memo, just over two minutes. Like it had been all you had been looking for, you hurriedly unlocked your phone. You were about to hit start, when you paused, your thumb hovering just above it. Because it could be anything—a simple breakfast run, or a goodbye. A pit grew in your stomach, and you wished he had just left you a clue about what he’d be saying in it. Your chest webbed tightly with anxiety, a rollercoaster in your throat.

You took in a deep breath, bracing yourself, eyes closed as you hit play. Whatever it might be, you’d be fine, somehow, you hoped.

“Hey, I’m so sorry—” Your chest felt so hollow, his voice unsteady. He was running, the wind blowing up the audio. He sounded far away, you had to strain to hear him properly, your phone on maximum volume. “—I know I promised to be there when you’d wake up, but—”

But I just couldn’t do this any longer. I wanted to tell you yesterday, but I just didn’t know how to. I’m sorry.

“—my mom called me. She’s having an emergency with her car, and now she’s stuck in- actually, I don’t know where, but I’m on my way there to jumpstart her car. And I thought about waking you up for it, but that felt mean and you looked so peaceful, I just couldn’t. But- it’s so cold, oh my God. Listen, I don’t know when I’ll be back, but I’m gonna hurry, okay? So just wait for me, alright? I’ll be there, I promise.”

You heard the door of his car open and close. The wind cut out, and all of a sudden it was quiet. There was ruffling, Jungkook took his phone closer to his face. He sighed, and you could see him right in front of your eyes—sitting there in his car, hair a mess on his head, as he closed his eyes to find his words, a knit between his brows.

“I’m really sorry, cabbage,” he began again. “Both for leaving now because I know I had promised I’d be there, and… again for the past week. I know I’ve been shit, and I know you’ve been confused and- I’m sorry. I haven’t been fair at all-”

Neither had you however, you realised as you listened to him talk. Of course, Jungkook had only left because his mother needed his help. How could you assume the worst of him after everything? When he was so good and kind? Had been all this time to you?

“But we will figure this out, okay?”

Jungkook paused again. You pulled your legs to your chest, burying your face into your knees, teeth sinking into your tongue.

“Let’s talk about this after today. But it’s gonna be fine. Like you said it would.”

You had lied.

“What am I talking about?” He let out a small laugh, and you knew he was shaking his head at himself. “It’s already fine.” 

You felt like a traitor. You were terrible.

“I’ll be back to pick you up, okay? So just wait for me. I hope I can get to you by two the latest. I hope it won’t take too long to figure it all out. You know, I actually don’t know how to jumpstart a car, so I really don’t know why my mom called me.”

He laughed again, and you didn’t think you could ever get the sound out of your mind. It was so pretty and melodic, so good and precious. 

“Well, anyway, I gotta get going, but I can’t wait for tonight already. I miss you.”

You missed him too, loved him even. Did he? Could he? Could you?

It was cowardly of you, hypocritical actually. But you couldn’t do it differently, didn’t have the courage to look at Jungkook and say it. The words wouldn’t leave you, you were certain, if you stood in front of him. He deserved more than a text, but more than that he deserved the truth. And the truth was you couldn’t do this, any of it in fact, not anymore. Couldn’t meet his parents, or even pretend to be his girlfriend any longer, not in good conscience. It had to end.

Your thumbs shook as you slowly found the right letters, strung together the words and sentences. You hit delete every other word, barely getting a paragraph together in almost an hour. Because worst of all, even as you tried to offer some honesty, you knew you couldn’t offer it entirely to him, couldn’t let Jungkook know just how exactly you felt, how deeply you had plunged into love with him. 

I’m sorry, Jeon, but I don’t think I can keep this going any longer. I know I said I’d meet your parents, but I think we’re just going a little too far by doing that. I hope you understand. I know I’m not fulfilling our contract and you’ll lose your bet with Taehyung and I’m really sorry, so I’ll just wire back all the money. I never touched it anyway. 

You were about to finish off the paragraph, deciding that any wishes for your future relationship as friends would be too much to ask for, thumb sliding over the glass, when your phone lit up, buzzing and ringing. And right just then, you accepted the call, your heart dropping in your chest. Your stomach twisted terribly because you couldn’t do this. How could you? Hear his voice, talk to him as if you weren’t just about to call this entire thing off over text? How could you pretend it was all fine when you’d felt gutted for the entire week?

“Hey,” Jungkook greeted you, oh so unaware. You could hear the harsh wind coming through the speaker. “I’m sorry—”

You wished he’d stop apologising. If he just knew what you’d been thinking of him for the past few days, all the assumptions you had made about him and his character, his parents too. 

“—but looks like I won’t make it by two.”

There was a sigh, and you let the silence usher Jungkook to keep on speaking, knowing your voice would merely betray you.

“I tried to jumpstart the car, but yeah, it didn’t work out. We called some people now and seems like we’re gonna have to have the car towed and fixed at the shop.”

The frustration bled through in Jungkook’s voice. It was obvious. He had spent all morning trying desperately to fix his mom’s car in the freezing cold, and now it had come to this.

“We called my dad. He’s on his way here because I still need to go back to my parents and take a shower. It’s gonna take some time—the drive to my parents, the shower and then the drive to your place—so I definitely won’t make it by two. But I should be at your place by three the latest though, I hope that’s fine?”

You closed your eyes, wondered just what exactly you were supposed to say. And so, for a while you didn’t as you gathered yourself.

“Cabbage? Are you there? Can you hear-”

“Y-yeah.” You chewed on your lip, took a few more seconds before speaking. “You… don’t have to come-”

“What? No, I promised you I’d drive you. Let me at least do that,” Jungkook insisted, and you hoped he’d just understand. How direct did you have to be? 

“It’s fine, you don’t have to,” you tried, but to no avail.

He snorted. “Cabbage, I’m driving you. No matter what. My dad’s almost here. You won’t have to wait long. I’ll probably be at your place before three actually. I shower quickly!”

You pressed your hands to your eyes until dark spots appeared, shaking your head. Why couldn’t he just understand? 

A lump knotted your throat shut, your voice wavering as you began speaking, “I-I think we should just-”

“Ah, my dad’s here! I gotta go, cabbage. But please just wait, I’ll be there soon, okay? Can’t wait to see you! It’s gonna be great. You’re gonna charm their asses off, okay?”

And before you could even protest, confess to Jungkook that you couldn’t do any of this, he had hung up. You stared as your phone displayed your lockscreen before ultimately turning black, leaving you with your reflection.

You caught yourself in your mirror, realising how puffy your eyes were. It was blatantly obvious you had cried. You were a mess, in no state to meet anyone’s parents, no less Jungkook’s perfect parents. But now you couldn’t even get yourself out of this anymore, not when you had heard his excitement again. How could you disappoint him? 

Just one more day. You’d do it for one more day, him and you. You’d just get today over with, that much you owed him, and then you’d sit him down to break it all off.

The dress was still oh so beautiful on you, harmonised perfectly with the white cropped cardigan you had picked out for today because it was, indeed, cold like Jungkook had said it was, and you really didn’t want to freeze. Your hair remained the same as always. You had thought about changing it, but decided in the end that at least your hair should be the way you were used to. Same with your jewellery, the same few pieces you wore every day adorning you today too. You kept the makeup minimal, and still it took you ages to get it done, hands shaky as you carefully drew on eyeliner and curled your lashes. 

Looking at yourself you wondered if it was enough to fool everyone, yourself possibly even that you were perfectly fine, that you fit to Jungkook, that he and you could be something more, that your background was the same as theirs, that you were just another Narae, well-off and well-travelled.

But your doubts and worries had no time to brew, your doorbell announcing Jungkook. Shrugging on your coat and slipping into the pair of black kitten heels you had borrowed from Chaeyoung, you gave yourself one more look in the mirror. You looked beautiful, you knew that. Everything about you looked so close to perfect, and yet, you felt the opposite. Today was the last time for Jungkook and you, and just the thought made you want to cry.

You shook your head, not wanting to keep Jungkook waiting any longer. It was truly cold, and you regretted your choice of shoes the moment you stepped outside, cursing yourself. The wind snaked up your legs. Maybe if you knew that this wasn’t going to be your last day together as a pretend couple, you would have run up and changed. But more than ever before, you wanted to look your best today. Because at the very least, however today might end (badly), you looked good.

Jungkook agreed, face lighting up the moment he laid his eyes on you. You tried your very best to return your smile. He looked oh so good too, wondering if he matched you on purpose. His sweater was the same deep rich red as yours, a white turtleneck layered underneath. He paired it off with some black slacks and black boots, your scarf wrapped tightly around his neck. You couldn’t look at him too long, vision beginning to swim when you did, so you focused on the ground, one step after the other.

“You’re so beautiful,” Jungkook gasped, clutching his chest and pretending to have a heart attack. 

“Thank you,” you said, speaking quietly, afraid your voice was going to betray you. “You too.”

Your compliment made his smile turn into a grin. “Well, you’re prettier.”

Usually, you’d make some snarky comment, fall into the same old banter you’d established with him long ago. Today, you could barely bring yourself to look at him. 

“Let’s-”

Jungkook cupped your face, lifting your eyes to him, forcing you to face him. His gaze turned your insides soft and puddy, hands beginning to shake by your side.

“I’m so happy, cabbage,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your lips. It almost made you cry. You screwed your eyes shut. Before the kiss could go on longer, devastate you more, crush you further, you pulled away.

“I-I’ve got lipgloss on,” you mumbled, giving Jungkook a short smile before stepping aside to walk to his car. He laughed behind you, telling you how he didn’t mind at all, but still, he followed you.

Just as you were about to reach for the car door, he did it for you. Always the gentleman. You paused for a second, surprised (why were you?), before climbing inside, heart heavy as you waited for him to just close the car door. Jungkook didn’t though, drawing your eyes back to him.

“Are you sure about the shoes?” he asked you, brows furrowed together. “It’s cold. You’re not even wearing stockings.”

You felt even more self-conscious all of a sudden, tucking your feet underneath the seat, cheeks warming and heart thrumming. These shoes were the only ones that fit with your outfit. You didn’t have an extensive shoe collection, anything you could change into now wouldn’t match. It’d be a waste not to wear them, especially after you had asked Chaeyoung to borrow them.

“Y-yeah, it’s fine.”

Jungkook seemed to disagree, still standing there with the car door in his hand, and when he opened his mouth, you knew he was going to argue with you.

“I really-”

“It’s fine,” you repeated, reaching for the door handle. “Let’s just go. We’re gonna be late.”

The frown didn’t disappear from his face, but he conceded, albeit with a sigh. His hand squeezed yours, and you flinched, pulling it away as if he burned you. Jungkook stopped, eyes shooting to yours.

Your heart dropped in your chest. Oh no. 

You put on your brightest and biggest smile. “Sorry, your hand’s just super cold,” you laughed. 

Jungkook blinked before smiling, “Ah, sorry.”

With that he shut the car door, and you pulled the seat belt across your body, readying your words on your tongue that you had thought of this entire time.

I’m super tired. Do you mind if I sleep during the ride?

It was a blatant lie. Every nerve and fibre of your body was lit up, wired tightly. You couldn’t find sleep even if you laid in your bed now. The thought of having to talk to Jungkook for the entirety of the car ride, however, turned your stomach upside down. 

You decided to wait for him to put on the seat belt first before saying it, needing a few more seconds to rid the knot from your throat. From the corner of your eye, you watched as he climbed inside, putting his key into the ignition, rubbing his hands together. But rather than reach for the seat belt, Jungkook fumbled with the console, turning on the heat, carefully turning the knob back and forth. Warm air started blasting from the heaters immediately, wrapping you up from every direction.

“Do you want the seat warmer too?”

He looked at you so sincerely. You crumbled almost.

“I-It’s okay.”

“Just say a word and I’ll change it, okay? Don’t want you freezing,” he said before strapping the seat belt across his chest. You turned to the window. 

Your voice wavered slightly. “Uh, I’m super tired. Do you mind if I sleep during the ride?”

“Oh, yeah, no, totally. Get some sleep. I’ll wake you up when we’re there. Gonna take a while anyway.”

You hummed in response, frowning when you saw Jungkook rub his hands together, blowing into them, even holding them up to the heaters for a few seconds. Before you could wonder for too long, he took your hand into his, thumb brushing back and forth.

“Warm enough?”

He said it with such a beautiful smile. It shattered you. You merely nodded before turning away, eyes closing shut, a lump stuck in your throat. The gesture, however small, dug into your heart like a knife. He was so nice, so kind, so good. And for the past week, you had thought the worst of him. 

You knew you had arrived even before Jungkook parked the car. The engine slowly shut off, keys jangling when he pulled them out. You heard the click of his seat belt, some shuffling, and your heart beat faster as you waited for him to wake you up. Truth be told, you hadn’t thought this through. How were you going to convince him that you had slept this entire time when you hadn’t even for a single second? The last time you had pretended to sleep in the car was when you were seven and didn’t want to go to school. And even then, it hadn’t worked, your mother seeing right through you.

Jungkook had held your hand the entire ride. You had so gotten used to the feeling of his warmth that when he slowly pried his hand out of yours, you felt oddly cold. For a second, you thought you had to have imagined it when you heard the car door open. But when the sound of it softly closing followed, you knew you hadn’t. Maybe he wanted to come around and then wake you up?

You waited a few more seconds but when your car door remained shut, you slowly peeled your eyes open. Once again, Jungkook wasn’t there. But your attention turned to the house across the street instead. Jisoo and Chaeyoung had, of course, asked for Jungkook’s address—Just in case. He had happily sent it to them, and you too if you wanted to forward it to anyone else too. (The fact that Jisoo was over an hour's train ride away didn’t matter by the way.) You couldn’t recall the address, but you did remember the house number, and you were definitely staring at the right house right now.

It was bigger than you could have imagined it to be. It was so absurdly big, almost cartoonishly so. Even more so because it was decked out with all kinds of Christmas lights and stockings. You doubted no second the inside rivalled Chaeyoung’s and Jisoo’s home. But however ridiculous it was to you, this was Jungkook’s childhood home, the house where he grew up in. Where he spent his childhood and teenage years. This particular house. A house. Whilst you grew up in a flat, just with enough space to cram in your little family.

You saw him then, standing next to the expensive car parked in the driveway. Jungkook opened the car door to the passenger seat, and a second later, his mother stepped out. He offered her his hand, earning himself a big smile from her. From inside the car, you couldn’t hear what she said, but you could imagine it. She was right, he was a great son. 

Jungkook looked a lot like his mother, you realised. She had gifted him with her kind eyes and soft big smile. No wonder, her son was so beautiful. She was an elegant woman. It was obvious. The kind of woman that wore cashmere sweaters, baked fresh bread every Sunday, made sure to do her skincare routine every morning and night, expensive creams and serums lining her bathroom cupboard. Not a single hair on her head was grey. She was the perfect wife and mother.

From the driver's seat, a man emerged, Jungkook’s dad. There was a hint of grey colouring his hair, but he pulled it off well. He was shorter than Jungkook by a bit, but you could see right away where Jungkook got his confidence from. For a moment, you wondered if that was how Jungkook would look like when he was older. Would he resemble his father? His dad quickly rounded the car, greeting his son with a hug before taking his wife’s hand into his. He had a kind smile too, you noticed. Of course, he did.

Jungkook had to have said something particularly funny because both his parents erupted into laughter. You looked away, closing your eyes. 

What were you doing here?

The question blared louder than ever before. Could you really do this? Fool everyone? Yourself too? The answer was obvious to you as you looked ahead. A part of you wished you had come to that conclusion before you had gotten into the car. You didn’t know your way around this neighbourhood (of course, not), but you knew you had to get away from here either way.

You stepped out of the car, quietly shutting the door. He couldn’t see, couldn’t know. You had to get away, now.

“Where’s your girlfriend, Kook?” 

His father’s voice made you pause. Jungkook sounded so much like him.

“In the car. She’s sleeping.”

“Are you not gonna wake her up? At least, let her come inside and sleep inside. It’s so cold.”

“No, I was gonna, but then I saw you and dad pull up,” Jungkook explained, his voice carried to you through the wind. His car offered you enough coverage to hide and at the same time allowed a clear view of Jungkook and his parents. “Also, I was gonna get her another pair of shoes. She’s wearing heels.”

His mother gasped. “In this weather? Does she at least have stockings on?” When he shook his head, she gasped again. “No, that’s not good. You better get her another pair of shoes. She’s gonna freeze!”

“I know- ah, I turned off the heat!” Jungkook touched his forehead as if to say how stupid of him. 

You pressed your lips together, teeth sinking into your tongue. The guilt clawed up your throat, raw and red. It hurt, so much so that you didn’t even feel the cold wind on your feet and up your legs, or the way they ached from the unnatural arch the heels forced them into. 

“Go get your girlfriend some shoes,” Jungkook’s father told him. “I’ll get the groceries-”

“What? No, let me, dad. I can do both. I’ll be quick.”

“It’s fine, Kook. We don’t want your girlfriend freezing.” His mother placed her hand on his shoulder. But like the good son he was, he wasn’t having it, already moving to open the trunk.

“It’s okay. I turned off the car just now, and she’s been sleeping peacefully this entire time. I’ll be quick,” Jungkook insisted. “You guys get inside.”

His parents looked at him with a sigh, realising defeat. Jungkook’s father handed him the car keys.

“Well, you better be quick. You know we can’t wait to meet Y/N.”

And with that, they walked inside, hand in hand. Your heart shattered, your name rolling so easily off their lips. It was so odd to hear them say it, hear with how much kindness they did. 

You should just go now, take this opportunity to run, but your feet remained cemented, your eyes following Jungkook as he brought the first two bags up to the front door before grabbing the last two out of the car. Moving his foot underneath the sensor, the trunk closed automatically. You knew nothing about cars but you knew that such a feature didn’t come with most, and was definitely not cheap either.

Right now, looking ahead of you, you could see for the first time clearly just how different Jungkook and you were. There were two different worlds between you, a distance that no one could cross, no less a relationship that wasn’t genuine to begin with. It had been nice and fun, foolishly nice and fun, to pretend all this time, but in the end it had been foolish more than anything. 

Why you didn’t move still remained a mystery to you. Maybe your feet had really frozen to the sidewalk, the heels one of your worst ideas yet, or maybe you simply couldn’t do it, bring it over your heart to just walk away. Maybe you just needed a little more, of him and you. You knew these few seconds would be the last ones of peace before it would all crumble. The illusion would shatter. He and you would be done, forever. There would be no more hangouts together with all your friends, no more cookies and Avatar marathons, no more kisses and hugs. 

Jungkook and you would dissolve, just as quickly as it had all begun in that library with a notebook and pen. 

Jungkook was about to turn around and close the door and he’d see you, standing there on the sidewalk with your eyes set straight on him. He’d see you and he’d smile and put down the bags and walk over to you and ask you why you were standing there and why did you get out of the car and how cold it was. How stupid and silly of you! 

He’d come over and bring you into a hug and his lips would ghost over the crown of your head and you’d cave and melt and you’d go in and meet his family and it’d hurt so much to tell Jungkook’s parents what your parents did when they’d inevitably ask you because of course they would and you’d have to see as they realised that your parents didn’t get to enjoy higher education. They’d be silent for a few seconds before nodding and smiling. They’d quickly change the topic because it was better to talk about something else and oh I heard something so interesting on the news recently, did you hear?

But you didn’t move, even as Jungkook turned, arms heavy with grocery bags, and lifted his head, eyes meeting yours as you predicted he would. His lips lifted up into a smile, a smile bigger than you’d expected. He didn’t move though. Instead he blurred into a heap of colours.

You could no longer do this.

The image of him cleared as the first tears fell, and you watched as his face crumbled while he watched your chest heave up and down, sobs pushing out from your throat. 

Jungkook let go of the grocery bags, the contents spilling out. When he took his step towards you, you did too, away from him. He stilled, frozen. Why, you could see it on his face. Why were you crying? Why were you moving away from him? He deserved answers, an explanation, but the most you could muster up right now was the shake of your head.

No.

And then you took off. 

“Y/N!” 

You pressed your hand to your lips, scared of filling the street with your gut wrenching sobs. Tears kept streaming down your face, hot and heavy. 

You did feel sorry for doing this to Jungkook. But you had to. Because he wasn’t going to. It had to be you. You who finally saw the truth in the eye that this was ridiculous, that this had gone off the rails, that Jungkook and you should have never gotten to this point, to where you found comfort in his arms and he knew your favourite cookies and you showed him your home and he knew more than he should about you. To the point where you had shared the bed together and knew the softness of the other’s lips. To the point where you had irrevocably and undeniably and unfortunately fallen for Jungkook.

You were in love with Jeon Jungkook, and it was the worst thing you could have done to yourself-

“Y/N!”

And it was affirmed when he seized your elbow and turned you around. You didn’t make it very far. Your eyes locked with his, and you could see it in them. How this was going to end. How this had to end, now. 

You were reminded of when you ran out on Jaehwa after seeing him for the first time again. It was what you always did, you realised. Run. 

You just never expected you’d have to run out on Jungkook too.

His eyes, wide and big, searched your face, for something to give him a clue as to what was going on in the head of yours, anything. He didn’t understand. 

You pulled away from him as if his touch burned you, pushed him away.

“Why? What’s wrong?” he asked, frantic, reaching out for you again, but you couldn’t let him touch you, tumbling backwards. Hurt flashed across his features, but this was for the best. Why did you have to be this dramatic? How stupid of you!

“I-I can’t,” you stuttered, shaking your head, dragging your coat sleeve frantically on your cheeks. “I-I just can’t.”

Jungkook stared at you, face twisting and morphing into emotions you couldn’t decipher. You had never really understood him anyway.

“O-okay, hey, that’s fine.”

Who would have thought this would hurt so much to hear?

“That’s alright.”

He should be furious, absolutely and utterly mad with you. You had just run away. If he hadn’t caught you, he would have had to somehow explain to his parents why his so-called perfect girlfriend was suddenly gone. And yet, he met you with empathy and kindness. Jungkook was so good, so precious. He was so much better than you, deserved more. 

“I’ll give you a ride home-”

“No!” you screamed, lungs heaving for air, chest rising and falling dramatically. You shook your head, repeated it again, quieter this time. “No, you don’t understand.”

Jungkook stared at you, mouth opening and closing. “Okay, then explain. But let’s do this in the car-”

“Why are you like this?” You threw the question at his head, venomous and bitter. The anger wasn’t fair, shouldn’t be aimed at him at all. What had he done to deserve it? And yet, you couldn’t find it in you to shift the target. “What are we doing?”

His brows knitted together, the knit deepening. “I-I don’t know what you mean.” You looked at him as if he should. “Can we get to the car first, cabbage-”

You flinched. How could he still call you that? 

“This is so stupid,” you scoffed, shaking your head, eyes looking at everything but him. The cold wind blew your tears away, and your cheeks felt raw from all of the rubbing and dragging. “I- this is so wrong on so many levels. Why am I even here? What are we even doing? Why are you like this?”

“You don’t want to meet my parents, that’s fine. I really think we should get to the car-”

“Why? Because you don’t want your neighbours and parents to see what crazy person you’ve brought home?”

“What? No! Who said that? I wanna get to the car because it’s freezing cold and you only have a coat and heels on-”

“Oh, please, Jeon!” The laugh slipping from your lips made Jungkook flinch. It was so mean, filled with so much spite. “Don’t pretend to be good. What a cheap and pathetic act!”

None of the words you spoke were truthful. You didn’t know where you pulled them from, you didn’t believe any of them. All of them were hollow and mean. But maybe they’d be enough though to bring out anger within Jungkook, make him come to the same realisation as you had—that he and you had to end. But knowing him, he’d meet you with empathy and kindness over and over again. 

He had to hate you. 

You had to make him hate you. Otherwise, this would never find an end. Otherwise, he’d convince you of the opposite, and you’d never be able to let go of him. Otherwise, you’d lose yourself completely to him.

And when you looked at Jungkook, you knew you were right. Because there was no no fire in his eyes, nothing. He still stared at you the same way he used to. Even after you had called him names. Hating you was the only option.

“I really think we should just talk this out another time.”

Defeat, you realised, contorted his features. Not anger. Not spite. None of it. Just defeat. You closed your eyes, shaking your head.

“You’re clearly not in the best of moods and saying stuff that you don’t mean. I don't know what’s going on, but let me just give you a ride home and we’ll figure this out another-”

“Figure out what?” You leaned forward, gestured wildly around yourself. “We? Oh, please, Jeon, there’s no fucking ‘we’. Don’t make me laugh!”

He shook his head, hands running through his hair. 

“I really don’t think you mean any of this, Y/N. I know this entire situation must be bringing up bad memories for you- I know Jaehwa hurt you-”

“What? This has nothing to do with him,” you scoffed, narrowing your eyes, the words pushing through your clenched teeth like a bullet out of a gun. “What do you know, Jeon? What do you really know, huh? Actually, how can you know anything? You with your perfect stupid fucking family with a house oh so big because you just had to show everybody how you were better and richer and greater. What do you know about anything, really?”

You weren’t making sense, but you could see a change in Jungkook’s face, the flicker in his eyes as you mentioned his family. Bullseye.

“Miss me with that bullshit. You’re the kind of people I hate. It’s all so fake and condescending- fuck, you’re so stupidly loaded you’re paying me to pretend to date you so you can win a stupid shitty bet with Taehyung. Your parents must be so proud of their great great son.”

He closed his eyes, screwed them so tightly shut in hopes that maybe if he did so long enough, this would turn out to be a bad dream. This wasn’t happening. Things weren’t falling apart like that. They couldn’t. His hands curled into fists.

“Now you can’t even look at me, Jeon?” you sneered, voice and words growing more and more vicious. “Can’t face the truth, right? You pretend to be so good, so kind. But for fuck’s sake, look at the house you grew up in! Look at where I live! You’re the same as Jaehwa- actually, no because at the very least, he didn’t pretend like he and I weren’t different. You should have some shame, but I guess with parents-”

“Y/N!”

Your name cut through the air, and for once, you stopped and breathed. Jungkook had peeled his eyes open again, teeth gritted, jaw pulled taunt, hands curled into tight fists. 

“I really think it’d be better if you stopped talking now.”

And yet, it wasn’t the response you wanted.

You could have cried then, bawled, fallen to your knees and just admitted to it all. How much you did love him and how much you wanted him, but couldn’t have him because this just wasn’t going to work because he never really did love you and neither would his parents. He and you were doomed, like the moon and the sun. He just would never see it, too idealistic for his own good. Your blatant and devastating flaws. You weren’t good or kind. You had to be the one to pull the plug, to call this what it was—wrong.

“Yeah, of course, you’d say that,” you mumbled, the tip of your shoes digging into the concrete, rolling back and forth. The scratching sound it produced soothed you oddly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You know what I mean. You rich people just can’t ever face the truth-”

“No, you idiot!” 

His voice echoed through the empty street, loud and clear. Anger and disdain coloured his words, features twisting and knits deepening. There it was, finally. The anger and upset you had waited and waited for, the blow of the bomb, the finale. 

“I think you should stop talking because I love you and I don’t want my heart broken any further!”

Jungkook was so loud. You had never heard him so loud before, yell like that, tell you so abundantly clear that he loved you. It was the declaration of declarations, blaring and grand. You had wanted to hear it, needed to hear it all this time, all this week—that he loved you—and now when you finally did, it was truly the worst thing anyone had ever told you ever. Because it was everything you wished for, but you couldn’t have it, none of it. It wasn’t real, and even if it was, even if he meant it and he loved you, you couldn’t be with him. The truth didn’t matter. You were too damaged, too broken, too fucked up to never not doubt Jungkook, not to fear that he’d leave at any point. 

You’d never trust him.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you!” He pointed at you, face scrunched and eyes red, tears welling. “I thought we had gotten past this- isn’t it obvious that I do really love-”

“Oh, please. You goddamn liar!” Your voice shook, broke in your throat and mouth, head spinning. You were losing Jungkook, spectacularly so. “What do you know about love? This is an act, Jeon! You’re not in love with me! You’re in love with an act! You’re in love with the idea of winning your stupid bet with-”

“No, no-”

“Yes, Jeon, you don’t know shit. You pretend like you do- think you do when in reality, you don’t know anything about me. Who am I if not just a pawn in your game? Someone you paid, so you could boast and brag that you didn’t get rejected, huh?”

Jungkook licked his lips, veins bulging in his neck as he tried his very best to not go too far, implode on you, hands digging into the roots of his hair. “No, that’s not true. The bet between Tae and me—”

“Actually, you know what? I don’t even care. Because all of it is wrong. It’s not what we agreed upon-”

“Okay, yeah, so we weren’t supposed to kiss and spend time together privately, or sleep with each other and talk on the phone for hours. But look at us now!” He pointed between him and you, as if there was something between you. “We did it all, okay? And? Was it so bad?”

His eyes fixed yours, so deeply. He took a step towards you, and you didn’t back away, couldn’t.

“You call me a liar when I tell you I love you—” His voice shook, trembled terribly, and you could see Jungkook fight to find the right words, struggle to speak. It pained you to know it was all because of you. How easy would it be to take it all back? Admit fault and go back? But would it be right? “—but tell me then, why are you looking at me like that?”

You tried a laugh. A laugh that was meant to dismiss it all, deny the truth, but it sounded hollow and wrong. You couldn’t even look him in the eyes, beginning to crumble. And Jungkook saw right through you.

“Look at me and tell me you don’t feel something!” 

You closed your eyes, crossing your arms in front of your stomach. The world began to spin faster and faster, and you felt like you were losing the ground underneath yourself.

“You’re not being fair,” you whispered, shaking your head. You were speaking much quieter now, your voice having lost all of its bite and edge. This had been harder than you expected. “You’re breaking the contract-”

“Oh my God, will you forget about that? Both of us broke it a long time ago, willingly! Can you please just forget about all of it—the contract, the bet—and look at the facts?”

Jungkook was begging at this point. Would you come to your senses?

“Do you really genuinely think that the past weeks- months didn’t mean anything to me? That it was really all just pretend? That I lied about all of it? That I’m really such a big asshole that I’d pretend to be in love with you this entire time, call you daily, buy you your favourite cookies, hold your hand and kiss you and tell you—” This seemed to drain Jungkook of everything, voice trembling as he presented the worst version of himself to you. “—over and over again that I love you?”

He leaned forward, searched for your eyes. 

It was right in front of you—a white flag up in the air, for you to grab and hiss. You could do it now, he’d forgive you, you were certain of that. Jungkook was still kind enough to do so, his heart ready to let you back in. You wouldn’t even need to say anything, just falling into his arms would suffice. It’d be so easy. Simple, in fact. He’d let you do it, take your silent defeat as an apology. You’d never have to talk about it ever again. It was tempting, slip back into what you were before as if you weren’t aware that he and you were two parallel lines never meant to cross. Jungkook would never be tempted to take this way out, he’d stand straight for what he’d said, repent. The thought to take the easy way out would never cross his mind. It did yours.

“Y-yeah, I do.”

Jungkook shook his head, mouth set in a line.

“You don’t mean that-”

“Yes, I do-”

“Y/N, no, no, you-”

“Stop,” you laughed, shaking your head. “Stop insisting that I don’t mean it. I do. I-”

It was so ironic. It felt like the entire universe was mocking you, laughing at the two of you. This was what  Jungkook had wished for him and you, imagined how beautiful it would be, how you’d sit together in front of the window and watch before he’d suggest to go outside and you’d follow happily. You’d dance and play until neither of you could feel your hands and your cheeks were rough and raw from the cold wind. You’d yearn for the warm, shiver as you stepped inside, but you’d be happy. So very happy. But now it felt like a stab to your hearts instead. 

The first few snowflakes softly landed on your sleeve. It was so beautiful. The entire street would be white in a few hours, kids would come out to play soon.

“I’ll pay you back.” You took a step back, rubbed away the tears that wanted to spill. “See it as compensation for… not meeting your parents.”

Jungkook couldn’t respond, teeth sinking into his tongue, biting on the muscle until it hurt too much. 

“That’s not- that’s not the point. I don’t care for the money, I just-” He deflated. “Just-just meet them, Y/N. Give them a chance, please. You’ll realise- they’re gonna love-”

He stopped when you shrunk in on yourself, vehemently shaking your head. Neither of you said anything, just allowing the snow to fall around you and cover you in white. You’d be shivering in just a few minutes, hair and skin wet, feet shaky on the cold ground. 

Jungkook looked down, hands in his pockets, shoulders slumped. 

“Okay.”

You stood there as you waited for him to turn his back to you and walk away, waited and waited to be finally alone. He’d do it and you’d be alone and you’d be proven right, vindicated. Relief would flood you, knowing you had seen it coming, had always known correctly, protected you, at least, this time of hurt and-

The keys looked cold to the touch.

“Take them. Wait in the car. Call Chae or whoever to come pick you up. You can leave the keys in the car. I’ll get them later.”

Jungkook was ordering you, telling you what to do. And though he spoke with finality, allowing no room for you to disagree, his voice trembled and shook. You didn’t have to look to know the tears staining his cheeks, to know how much you had hurt him, realise that in your quest to do the best for both him and you because he deserved better and not be hurt and left in the end, you had done just that to Jungkook, plunged the knife into his heart and pushed it further even as he spat out blood. 

“It’s fine, I can-”

You couldn’t even finish your sentence before Jungkook grabbed your hand and placed the keys into your palm, forcing your fingers shut around them with his own. His touch sent sparks through your body. It’d be the last time he’d ever touch you, you realised, and before you could stop it, the tears spilt. But you didn’t let out a noise, kept your head low and eyes even lower. 

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

Jungkook hesitated before letting go, his feet dragging as he walked away.

Maybe it was you holding the gun, not Jungkook.

→ thanks for reading !! if you have any thoughts, id love to hear it!

[seungkw1]

heroes — chs

💿 heroes - david bowie 🎶

🪐 pairing: chwe hansol x gn!reader 🪐 theme: sci-fi/horror au 🪐 wc: 13.9k 🪐 warnings: suspense, scary imagery, mild gore (nothin crazy), minor character death, doppelgangers, lots of talk about goo, wistful yearning, some good old fashioned angst. 🪐 a/n: here it is!!! my longest work to date!! this fic is inspired by the movie Alien (1979), one of my all time favs - and who better to star in it than our favorite Movie Guy™️ chwe hansol. i truly had so much fun writing this, definitely made some stuff up about space ships and physics along the way but i hope u find the world of this fic to be immersive, intriguing, and best of all - spooky!! :) huge shoutout to @haologram for beta reading and @miniseokminnies for being my writing buddy and listening to me go insane ♡

You’ve been Captain of the Atlas IV for five years now, so a months-long interstellar cargo haul like this one is standard work for you. But when you’re mysteriously woken prematurely from your cryogenic sleep-stasis to find yourself still in the middle of deep space, nowhere near your destination planet, it’s up to you and your Pilot to figure out what triggered the Emergency Revival System - before it’s too late.

hisssssss

Your brain begins to awaken as you re-enter consciousness. Somewhere in the back of your mind you recognize the sound of the sleep pod unlocking, signaling your long journey through the depths of space must be coming to an end - but right now the only thing you can think about is how dead you feel. Waking up after such a long, artificial sleep is always physically challenging, but nothing you’re not used to by now. You give yourself a couple minutes to lay there, still half-lucid, letting your body slowly readjust from the months-long cryogenic sleep cycle. You listen to the ambient sounds of the ship. The noise is loud, but low - mere background noise that you’ve grown accustomed to. The mechanical rumbling of the engine amidst the otherwise silent ship brings you a strange sense of comfort, a contrast to the usual chatter of the crew and beeping and blooping of machinery. You decide to take a few more moments to enjoy the peace and quiet before you have to get back to work.

Suddenly, you are flooded in the sterile brightness of the ship’s interior lighting as the capsule lid is opened - nearly blinding you even behind closed eyelids. You reluctantly open your eyes to, to see-

A face, staring down at you.

You jump a little. You blink a few times as you sit up, still processing the identity of the face’s owner. Then it registers: it’s your Pilot.

“Jesus Hansol, you fucking scared me.”

“Sorry, Captain,” he apologizes. He just stands there, upright, so still that he could be mistaken for a mannequin if you weren’t paying too much attention.

“Why are you standing over my pod?" you grumble, still adjusting to being roused so abruptly.

He looks at you, his demeanor calm as always - but based on the concerned look in his eyes, you guess he’s going to tell you that there’s a bit of a problem. 

“We have a bit of a problem.”

“Yeah, I guessed that much. What-”

Before you can ask anything, he’s already spun around on his heels, making a beeline back to the cockpit. You stumble out of the pod and quickly don your coveralls before hurrying after him.

You enter the control room, its many processors and screens humming all around you. At first glance, everything seems fine - all machines are fully operational, no blinking lights, no alerts going off. Somehow, you find this more worrying than if all the alarms were blaring.

Hansol hovers over the main computer. You join him, stepping up next to him to get a good look at the screen. To an untrained eye it would be incomprehensible, but you could interpret the map in your sleep. You take one look at the coordinates and the issue is glaringly obvious.

“Shit.”

Your whisper is barely audible, but Hansol gives you a stoic nod.

“Yeah.”

You’ve captained the Atlas IV for five years now - you’ve been on so many of these routine, months-long cargo expeditions that you’ve stopped keeping count; every last detail of its operations is ingrained in your memory at this point. The ship is programmed to wake up the crew in stages upon entering a 0.5 parsec orbital radius of the destination planet (Pilot first, Captain next, and then the remaining crew), allotting plenty of time to communicate with the ground crew and prepare for landing.

However, the blinking blue light indicating the ship’s position is nowhere near the destination planet. It’s not even near any planet - you are in the middle of fucking nowhere.

The system is designed to wake the crew early if an emergency arises - a critical built-in safety measure - but there’s no emergency. Aside from the fact that you’re deep in interstellar space, there doesn’t even appear to be a minor issue at hand.

You look up at Hansol, who is patiently awaiting your response.

“Why was the Emergency Revival System triggered?” you ask hesitantly.

He stares at you for a second before responding.

“I don’t know.”

“And is anything malfunctioning? At all?”

He shakes his head.

“I’ve run all diagnostics twice - nothing. If there’s a problem somewhere, it’s undetectable.”

You grimace. Hansol lets out a sigh. You both know you only have one option here.

“Well, guess we better start combing the place. Find the problem ourselves.”

He nods resolutely. You head to the supply room together, gearing up in silence. You grab as many tools as you can carry - anything you might need to repair… whatever the issue is. 

“Alright, I’ll start at the fore, you start at the aft. Take your comms - radio me if you find anything, no matter how trivial.”

You prepare to head out, but the silence filling the room stops you. You turn around to see Hansol, geared up head to toe with supplies, holding two pulse rifles. He extends one to you.

“Why-”

“Just in case.”

“We’re the only ones here, and everyone else is still in stasis. Who would I possibly need to shoot?”

“Nobody. But you never know what you might come across.”

“Hansol if there was anyone, or… anything else on this ship we would know about it,” you reply, but not confidently. You know he’s right. Weird shit happens in deep space sometimes - better safe than sorry. You take the rifle. 

“Be careful, y/n.”

Normally if a subordinate addressed you informally, you would scold them. You have a good camaraderie with your crew, but you still demand respect. But you and Hansol have known each other for years - although you were never super close, you were still in the same class at the Academy. You did all your basic trainings together - and that kind of shit builds an unspoken bond. You wouldn’t necessarily consider him a friend, but truthfully you do see him as your equal. Being on a first name basis with him just comes naturally.

You give him a firm nod. “You too.”

He clips his rifle to his utility belt. “Meet you in the middle. Unless I find something first.” He shoots you a playfully-smug grin. “Which I will.”

You roll your eyes, but you grin back at him. “Hey, take your fucking time, it’s not a competition.”

“I know,” he says as he exits the room. His voice echoes from the hallway. “But I’m still gonna win.”

[two hours later]

You wipe the sweat from your brow as you shut the large panel door. You’ve checked what feels like a million controls and systems at this point, but - frustratingly - everything appears to be in order. Still no insight into what’s going on.

With an exhausted groan you sit on the ground, leaning your head back against the wall. You grab your canteen and chug some water. This type of work isn’t hard, but it’s fucking tiring. Not to mention boring as hell. At least you have an old mp3 player to keep you company, but you’re still too alone with your thoughts for your liking. As level-headed as you normally are, your mind can’t help but wander, imagining every terrible thing that could possibly happen. You try to push those thoughts aside, knowing you’re probably overthinking it. But the worries still linger. 

You close your eyes, zoning out to the sound of David Bowie’s voice in your ears:

I, I can remember (I remember) Standing, by the wall (by the wall) And the guns, shot above our heads (over our heads) And we kissed, as though nothing could fall (nothing could fall) And the shame, was on the other side Oh we can beat them, for ever and ever Then we could be Heroes, just for one day

“Captain! Come in Captain!”

You jolt upright. You curse yourself, realizing you must have drifted off to sleep for a bit. It takes you a moment to process where the voice is coming from - but then you notice the red light of your comms lighting up on your wrist. 

“Hansol, come in.” you reply, bringing your arm up to your face.

“Geez, I was starting to think something happened to you.”

“Sorry, was just taking a rest. What’s up?”

“I found… something.”

“What do you mean ‘something’?"

“It’s easier if you see for yourself. Meet me in Cargo Bay 7.”

“Roger, on my way.”

The large pneumatic doors to the cargo bay open with a deep whoooosh. The coldness of the hangar stings your face as you step into the freezing room. Hansol’s head pokes up from behind several rows of large crates, his breath visible in the frigid air. He waves you over to him. 

“What is it?” you inquire as you approach him, but as you step around to where Hansol is facing, you see it. Along the side of the crate, where the door is meant to be sealed shut, is a large hole ripped through the multilayered titanium walls. The shredded-up metal protrudes outwards in a peculiar manner, almost as if…

You lean in to get a closer look at the busted door. Hansol’s arm instinctively shoots out in front of yours to stop you from getting too close.

“Be careful - we don't know what's in there.”

You give him a firm nod. You retrieve a crowbar from your toolkit, sticking it into the small opening. Hansol lifts his pulse rifle into position, pointing it at the crate. Slowly you heave the large door open. 

The beam of your flashlight illuminates the crate’s interior. In the center of the crate sits a biocapsule - not unlike the ones you use to enter stasis during long journeys, though notably larger. The capsule’s exterior is fitted with several, heavy-duty locking devices that appear to have been inadequate, given that the glass lid is almost entirely missing, accounting for the thick shards of broken glass strewn all over the floor. Dozens of tubes and wires connect the capsule to various bizarre pieces of machinery, presumably keeping its former occupant in stasis or something of the like. But now, it is vacant. Whoever - or, whatever - was in there, is gone. 

“Okay, this is fucking weird,” you say, turning to Hansol. “Live cargo isn’t even permitted on this ship. What do the logs have listed for this shipment’s contents?”

Hansol lifts his arm and activates what looks like a sleek wristwatch. The watch projects its hologrammatic display into the air in front of his face, featuring a small keyboard. He types in the crate’s serial number into the interface.

“Um,” he starts, his face remaining placid, but you can see the confusion in his eyes. “There’s no record of this container in the system.”

“Like… at all?”

He types in the number again, checking if he made a mistake. But the projected screen once again only says 0 results found.

“Nothin’.”

You furrow your brow. That should be impossible - crates go through two checkpoints to ensure they are registered correctly before they are even allowed on the ship. 

“Search the lot number.”

He types AT-07 into the device. It brings up the general cargo bay information - shipments are sorted into different bays depending on the type of contents they carry.

“‘General Plumbing Equipment’,” he reads from the screen.

You let out a short laugh.

“Plumbing equipment my ass.” 

“Yup,” Hansol agrees. “This has gotta be contraband.”

Despite all the weird shit that’s been going on, the man has remained cool as a cucumber the whole time. You’re reminded why you’ve hand-selected him to be your Pilot for the last six missions.

“So, we have no idea what this is or where it even came from.” 

Hansol nods. “Affirmative.”

You take a closer look at the hole. Crude, jagged edges line the gashes where the wall was torn asunder. Worse, however - deep scratches lay engraved around the hole’s perimeter, distinctly made in sets of three; they look eerily like claw marks. It looks exactly like what you’d expect a titanium crate to look like if something large broke out of it. But, the impenetrable thickness of the walls renders the crate nearly indestructible. Whatever being was held here - it is capable of gargantuan strength. 

“What could have possibly done this?” you ask - not necessarily to Hansol, for you know he doesn't know either. You really would rather not find out, but that doesn't seem like an option at this point. 

Hansol stares into the bizarre crate, mind racing with theories and questions. 

“I don’t know, but I don’t like it.”

You turn to face your Pilot. His demeanor is unchanged, but he looks undeniably concerned. As are you. 

“Well. What now?”

Hansol gives a slight shrug. 

“It's your call, boss.”

“Right,” you sigh. Being in charge of decision-making is something you've gotten very good at over the years, but it certainly is a burden sometimes.

A sudden few beeps resonate from Hansol’s wristband. He lifts his arm to read the notification. 

“The rest of the crew is waking up now,” he informs you. 

“Shit. We better go brief them on the situation.”

Hansol nods in agreement. He puts his flashlight back on his tool belt and pulls his pulse rifle up again - safety still on, but ready to fire if needed. You do the same, silently praying to any god who might be listening that you won't need to use it.

But you're not too optimistic about that. 

You head back up to the sleeping quarters to find the four other members of your crew mulling about - most still pretty dazed and grumpy from the waking process. Your Lieutenant, Jones, is the only one who doesn’t look like they want to kill somebody.

“Captain,” she greets you with a salute. 

“Alright, listen up,” you command your squad, cutting right to the chase.

“We have a bit of a situation,” you start. Your crew is focused, listening attentively, but a nervous air of tension hovers in the room. Those are definitely not the words they were hoping to hear.

“First off, we’re not at the destination planet. Not even close.”

Hushed murmurs echo throughout the room. You continue.

“Chwe and I have not yet identified the source that triggered the Emergency Revival System. We did, however, find something of interest.”

You glance over at your Pilot. He gives you a subtle nod of assurance. 

“A crate in one of the storage rooms was… breached," you start, trying to give as unalarming an explanation as you can manage. But, you know your crew isn’t stupid.

“To speak candidly, I have reason to believe this crate - which is missing from the ship’s logs - was transporting some kind of contraband life form.”

“Life form?” chimes in your Sergeant, Ridley. “What kind of life form?”

“Unclear,” you respond. “I don’t know exactly what I saw, but the crate seemed to be some kind of stasis chamber. Now, there is no reason to panic just yet. But I want everyone to remain vigilant, so I am issuing a Code Gray until we have an all-clear.”

A few subdued grumbles roll through your crew, but everybody knows it’s the right call. Code Gray indicates a potential hazard to the wellbeing of the crew or ship - not yet an emergency, but could quickly become one if things take a turn for the worse.

“Alright, let’s get going people,” you say, clapping your hands together. “Jones and Ridley, take the mid decks. Liang and Destin, lower decks. Follow code protocol, you know the drill. And radio if you find anything, no matter how small.”

The crew disbands, splitting off into designated pairs and gearing up for duty. As the duos depart, you nudge your head up at Hansol, signaling for him to follow you. 

“Let’s go back to the cargo bay,” you tell him quietly. “I want to investigate every inch of that crate.”

You spend at least an hour poring over the crate’s contents, learning frustratingly little about its former occupant. All you can really tell is that the capsule was built to accommodate an individual approximately 8-9 feet tall, slender, with undeniably alien proportions. Your biggest lead is the mainframe - you’re not able to view any of its contents, as it appears to require an eye scan and a passcode, but you recognize the display language to be Acheron. Unfortunately, neither you nor Hansol can read a single word of it - and while it’s not the most ubiquitous language in the known galaxy, it’s still fairly widespread, only narrowing down possible origins to a minimum of 500,000 different star systems. But, it’s at least a start.

The only other discovery you make of potential interest is a thick, black, slimy residue coating the various internal components of the capsule. You collect several samples, scraping it into miniature vials for analysis. 

“Well, let’s hit up the lab,” you tell Hansol as you wrap up your painstakingly thorough investigation. “I don’t think we’re going to find much else in here.”

“Should we send everyone an update?” he inquires.

You raise an eyebrow at him. “What exactly are we going to tell them? All we can say for certain right now is that it’s big and gooey.”

Hansol scrunches his nose in disgust. 

“Please don’t say ‘big and gooey’.”

A subtle smile creeps onto your face. “Big and gooey,” you repeat.

“Blech,” he grumbles, pretending to gag - but the tiniest upward curvature of the ends of his lips breaks his facade. 

“Let’s get these samples analyzed,” you say as you pack the vials into a red plastic bag bearing the words CAUTION: BIOHAZARD.  “I don’t like how much time is passing without us getting any answers.”

“Do you remember that time at the Academy when you nearly killed that guy during a drill?”

The trek to the ship’s biolab has so far been traversed in silence, the only sound present other than the ambient rumbling of the engines being the muted echoes of boot-steps as you and Hansol walk down a seemingly endless number of corridors.  

“Oh my god,” you groan. “I couldn’t forget about that if I tried. And trust me, I have.”

A wide grin spreads across Hansol’s face. One thing about your Pilot: you can always know exactly what he’s thinking by his expression. You know for a fact that it’s not that he can’t hide it - he simply doesn’t feel the need to.

“I still can’t believe I set my comms on the wrong channel,” you lament, shaking your head in embarrassment. “Did NOT get the memo that the drill was long over.”

“That’s why Sergeant Briggs personally went searching for you. We all thought you died.”

“Nope, not dead. Just an idiot,” you sigh. “And then he scared the shit out of me and I almost blasted him in the head.”

“Hey, we all make mistakes,” Hansol reassures you. “And in the end nobody got hurt, that’s what’s important.”

“You’re right,” you sigh in agreement. “Some mistake though, huh?” Hansol says nothing, but smiles.

You walk a few moments without conversation, but the silence feels too heavy. You’re not one to make small talk - but in the quiet your mind starts to wander, and now is not the time to let your nerves get the best of you.

You turn your head toward Hansol. “What the hell made you think of that, anyway?” you ask, the question genuinely on your mind anyway.

“Oh.”

Hansol looks up. His eyebrows scrunch a bit as he stares off down the hallway, seemingly deep in thought. He muses for a moment, then nods to himself.

“I felt similar then, like I’m feeling right now,” he tells you, his eyes still lingering in the distance. “I wouldn’t call it fear - I’m not scared. But there’s certainly the same… palpable sense of dread. And the anxiety of not knowing.”

He looks back at you. You meet his gaze, struck by the unexpected gravity of his answer. Despite knowing Hansol for years, he’s never opened up to you like this before. It’s not that he had anything to hide - he’s always been honest and communicative, and you trust him with your life. But, this conversation feels deeper, more intimate than any you've had with him in the past. Your eyes linger on his for a moment, unsure what to say, but as the next airlock whooshes open your attention shifts to the figure at the end of the corridor. It’s your Engineer, Liang, her back turned to you as she faces the next airlock - but given that she was assigned to search the ship’s lower quadrant with Destin, your Science Officer, her presence on the upper decks catches you off guard.

“Liang,” you call out, your voice carrying in a hollow echo down the long corridor. Her head snaps around to face you with startling speed. She stares back at you for several seconds, unmoving, before twitching slightly to stare at Hansol. Then, she bolts - disappearing into the adjacent corridor in the blink of an eye.

You glance at Hansol, who stares back at you equally confused.

“What was that about?” he questions. You lift your comms and page the Engineer.

“Liang? Come in, Liang.”

A couple moments later her voice rings through the device.

“What’s up, Captain?”

“Is everything okay? What are you doing in the upper decks?”

“I’m not in the upper decks,” she replies matter-of-factly. “Me and Destin are down on Deck 27 still. Haven’t found anything yet, though.”

You and Hansol stare at each other for a moment. The figure you just saw was undeniably Liang - her short stature and fiery red hair were a dead giveaway. 

You switch the comms to all channels.

“Atlas Crew, report back with your positions,” you order the whole team.

A curt female voice rings through the comms. “Jones here, me and Ridley are on Deck 14, nearing the engine rooms.”

“Ridley here,” replies a deep voice. “Ditto.”

“Destin reporting from Deck 27,” a second male voice replies. “I’m here with Liang.”

A sinking feeling swells in your gut as the realization sets in: nobody is even remotely close to you and Hansol right now.

Your mind starts to race, but now is not the time to stand here and think. You raise your pulse rifle at the ready and motion for Hansol to follow you.

“Who the hell is up here with us, then?” he asks as he marches beside you with haste. 

“I don’t know, but I don’t like this one bit,” you mutter as you head toward the corridor the figure vanished into. “Something feels very off here."

The pneumatic door to the connecting corridor is sealed, but not locked. It opens as you approach it, revealing a short, dimly lit passageway leading to a handful of Emergency Ejection Modules. The gargantuan ship has many such escape pod installments - fortunately, you’ve never had to use any of them, but they do offer a sense of security when you’re stuck on board for months on end. However, their quiet stillness feels eerie as you peer down the vacant hallway, their glowing red standby lights glaring ominously back at you through the darkness. As you and Hansol slowly move down the corridor, you notice a faint, mellow beep resonating in the distance. Then, you see it: the lights of the furthest Module blinking slowly, in sync with the beeping sound. In glowing green text, the panel screen beside the pod’s airlock displays the words MODULE DEPLOYED. You tap the screen and pull up the record log; sure enough, the pod is gone - deployed not even one minute ago from this terminal. 

WHOOOOSH 

Startled, you jump slightly at the loud sound coming from behind. You whip your head around to see the pneumatic door sliding open, gatching the briefest glimpse of a large, dark shadow fleeing the corridor. 

You cock your pulse rifle and charge after the figure, bursting back into the vivid light of the main corridor to see… nothing.

Hansol appears beside you in a flash, but also stops in his tracks. The hall is far too long for anyone to have escaped on foot already, and the airlock behind you wasn’t opened. Whoever you’re chasing after has seemingly vanished into thin air. 

“Atlas Crew, come in,” you call as you raise your comms. “I’m issuing a Code Orange effective immediately. Engage shipwide lockdown protocols and be on high alert. Rendezvous at the bridge ASAP.”

“Affirmative,” three voices reply one after the other. 

“Affirmative,” Jones responds a moment later. “What’s going on, Captain?”

“I’ll explain when we get there, but be on high alert.” You glance nervously at Hansol, finding an equal amount of fear in his eyes. Somehow, you find it reassuring. You raise your arm once more to speak into the comms.

“There’s somebody else on this ship with us.”

“I just don’t understand,” Jones says as she reads the biologistics report on the screen for the fifth time. “There’s not a single biometric signal readout on this entire ship except for the six of us. If there were another human present on this ship - or any being for that matter - we would know about it even if they were dead.”

Your crew is gathered in the main control room on the bridge. You just finished giving them a detailed rundown of what you saw, relaying the uncanny events exactly as you witnessed them. 

“And you’re sure it was me you saw?” Liang repeats, her brow furrowed.

“100%,” Hansol confirms. “They looked exactly like you. And besides, you’re the only one here with bright red hair.”

She lets out a somber laugh. “Fair enough. But it’s not like evil doppelgangers actually exist, and we’ve confirmed there’s no other living beings on board. So… you must have been seeing things right?”

“I don’t know,” you reply with a frown. “We both saw the exact same thing though.”

“You’re forgetting the missing creature.”

You turn, shifting your focus to the voice across the room. You see Destin, who had been silent until now. He sits hunched over in his chair, elbows balancing on his legs as he rests his chin upon his clasped hands. His legs bounce slightly in his usual anxious manner. 

“What about it?”

“Nobody’s found the thing that escaped that crate,” he reminds the group.

“True,” you respond. “But whatever it is has to be dead by now. There’s no trace of it at all.”

“That’s just it, though.” His legs still as he sits up straight, resting his palms upon his knees. “Like Jones just said - if there were someone else on the ship we would know about it even if they were dead.”

The room fills with silence as everyone sinks deep into thought. Your mind races, trying to think of any logical explanation to any of this - but nothing makes sense. 

“What about the Emergency Ejection Module?” Ridley finally asks, looking toward you and Hansol. “You guys said one was deployed as a decoy, but what if somebody… something was on it after all?”

Hansol quickly strides over to the nearest terminal, a blue glow illuminating his face as he pulls up the interface. His fingers fly as he speedily types upon the keypad. Every escape pod is equipped with a tracking device and a biometric monitor built in as a safety precaution; he hones in on the ejected module. 

“I’ve located the pod.” 

You hurry over to the terminal and look at the screen. Unfortunately, there’s no good news.

“It’s currently 0.02 parsecs from the ship. No sign of life on board. Or death.” His shoulders drop as he closes out the terminal in defeat. “There’s nothing.”

“Okay, so whoever we saw on the upper decks is still on the ship,” you state. “And we have an unknown specimen on the loose who is evading all detection. The most logical explanation is that the specimen is our mystery guy. But that doesn’t explain why they looked exactly like Liang. That part is…”

“Unsettling,” Hansol finishes your sentence for you. You nod in agreement. 

Jones stares at the computer screen, reading the metrics over and over again in hopes of a revelation, but she knows the effort is futile. She shakes her head and turns the screen off with a sigh. “The way I see it, whatever escaped the crate is some kind of unknown biological specimen that can either shapeshift or induce hallucinations. Or maybe it’s advanced android technology. Regardless, we should still be able to detect something. But there’s not even a residual trace of electromagnetic radiation we can’t account for. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Chwe and I were on our way to the lab to analyze the substance we found in the crate,” you inform the crew. “Hopefully a molecular analysis will provide some insight into whatever the fuck is going on here.” 

“I sure hope so,” Jones grimaces. “I’m not one to be superstitious, but I have a bad feeling about all of this.” 

“What do you want us to do, boss?” Ridley asks from across the room. “While you guys run the tests?”

“Try and track down where that crate came from,” you tell him. “The mainframe language is in Acheron - that’s all I could glean, but start there and see if you can narrow down potential origin planets.”

You turn to the others. “Destin, you’re with me and Chwe. We need your expertise. Jones, Liang - try and figure out why we aren’t able to detect it. Search the scientific database - there’s gotta be something we’re missing.”

“What’s the protocol if we encounter the specimen?” Hansol’s voice resonates from behind. You turn, finding his eyes locked on you - focused and attentive. 

“We know barely anything about it,” you respond, addressing the whole crew. “We don’t know its intentions or motives. But in an abundance of caution, assume the subject to be hostile. Set pulse rifles to stun - we don’t want to cause it any unnecessary harm. Worst case scenario, though…” 

You hesitate. For all you know, whatever this species is may be friendly, intelligent. You certainly have a hunch that it has high intelligence - but as for friendly… Your gut tells you otherwise. And above all else, your duty is to protect your crew.

“If it comes down to it,” you continue, “do not put your life in jeopardy. Use your best judgement. Shoot to kill only as a very last resort.”

Several “yes, Captain”s are solemnly murmured through the room. Every member of your crew has years of experience under their belt, and you were all thoroughly trained for any type of situation. But simulated drills at the Academy, while intense, are nothing compared to the real thing - and none of you have ever experienced any true threats on a mission before. 

Except for Hansol. 

You don’t know the details. He’s never offered them, nor have you ever asked. But you know through the chatter of colleagues that one of his past missions involved an emergency on board, and - allegedly, according to some - one of the crewmates did not survive. Your gaze falls on him once more: still calm and collected, focused and taking his job seriously as usual. But his focus on you is more intense than you’re used to, and you detect a somber aura looming around him. You find yourself wanting to pat him on the arm, to tell him everything’s going to be okay. But, although you care greatly for each member of your crew, you know that would be starkly unprofessional. You cannot let your personal connection to Hansol cloud your attention right now. 

And besides, you can’t tell him that anyway, because you don’t even know if you believe it yourself. 

“These readouts are incredible - like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

You and Hansol stare at the monitor as Destin pulls up the lab results. You both have a fairly extensive background in science, as everyone who graduates from the Academy does, but the overwhelming jumble of data readouts on the screen are far beyond your paygrade. So you let your Science Officer do the interpreting. 

“99% of all life discovered in the galaxy so far is carbon-based - it’s one of the most abundant elements in the universe, so that makes sense. But this specimen has a silicon-based biochemical makeup. Now, we have seen a few silicon-based lifeforms from a few remote planets, but all of them thus far have been primitive, relatively speaking,” he explains. “We’re talking mostly single-celled organisms. There’s been a small handful of multicellular silicon-based species discovered, but nothing more complex than bacteria or algae. Certainly nothing like the large and presumably-advanced specimen that’s running amok on the ship right now. But look at this…” 

He pulls up a 3D image rendering of what you can only assume must be the creature’s DNA - but it’s nearly unrecognizable as such. The main culprit is its triple-helix structure - something that’s been theorized as potentially possible, but has never actually been seen before in nature. Though, the bizarre molecular formations you’re staring at makes you wonder if this creature is even naturally-occurring - it’s so strange that it almost makes you think it must have been engineered in a super-advanced laboratory, on some planet unknown to science.  

“Obviously, the triple helix is astounding in and of itself,” Destin continues. “But even stranger is there is no water present in its chemical composition.” 

“No water?” Hansol echoes, a perplexed expression etched onto his face. “Like, at all?”

“None whatsoever,” Destin confirms. “There are some known species who use ammonia as a solvent - which makes sense, because ammonia and water are both polar molecules, so their structure is similar. But this specimen appears to use methane as a solvent instead. Which, it’s a hydrocarbon, so that is theoretically possible, but with its tetrahedral structure…”

He glances over to you and Hansol, seeing that he’s starting to lose you in his technical jargon. He shakes his head, abandoning the in-depth explanation.

“Basically, this creature is theoretically possible. But for all intents and purposes, it shouldn’t exist.”

The laboratory air hangs still around the three of you as nobody speaks for several prolonged moments. An unnerving chill runs through your body - you thought you would feel better after gathering more information, but at this point you feel even worse. None of these findings comfort you in the slightest.

“Well, at least we have a lead here,” Hansol points out, breaking the silence. “We can eliminate a large majority of possible origin planets.”

“True,” Destin agrees. “It’s a good start. But I have a feeling based on this completely unfamiliar biochemistry that we might be dealing with an unregistered planet here.” 

You frown, but you know he’s right. You may have narrowed your search down, but the answers you’ve found thus far have only led to more questions.

“There’s one more thing.”

Destin types on the interface again. An empty chart pops up on the screen.

“These are the readouts on the spectrometry analysis.”

“It looks blank,” you tell him, confused.

“Yeah. It is.”

He turns back to you, the wrinkles on his forehead more prominent than normal. 

“That’s not a mistake - the test was completed. The results are either nonexistent or off the charts, neither of which makes any sense. Basically, all living beings produce bioelectric fields, giving off some form of radiation. Radio, infrared, our visible spectrum, ultraviolet - wherever it is on the electromagnetic spectrum, there should be detectable waves. But there’s nothing.”

“How is that possible, then?” Hansol asks.

“I don’t know,” Destin responds quietly. “I can’t even begin to reason why this might be the case. But this must be why we aren’t able to detect it.”  

He looks anxious, and you don’t blame him. It’s your job as Captain to know what’s happening on the ship at all times - uncertainty is not an option.

“Send these results over to Ridley and Liang,” you tell him. “We can rendezvous with them and see if they’ve found anything. Maybe they can help fill in some of the missing pieces.”

“The good news is: based on its system’s language, I’ve definitely narrowed down the crate’s potential origin.”

Ridley picks up a mug sitting on his desk, taking a large sip of what appears to be lukewarm black coffee. His small office very clearly is not meant to accommodate four people at once; you crowd around his screen, standing sandwiched between Destin and Hansol as you listen to his report.

“And the bad news?” Hansol inquires.

“The bad news… only to around 50,000 star systems.”

“Fifty thousand??” Destin blurts out, incredulous. “That’s it?!”

“Hey, out of the one billion star systems in the galaxy known to have life? Could be a lot worse,” Ridley counters. 

“Did you import the data from Destin’s test results?” you ask. “Maybe that can help pinpoint it further.”

“Unfortunately, that didn’t help. In fact it eliminated all 50,000 of them - not a single one has an atmospheric composition matching the creature’s biology.”

“Sounds like you were right,” you nod your head toward Destin. “The creature must be from an unregistered planet, then. Whatever planet this crate came from was probably just transporting it.”

“I’ll check the ship logs and see if I can piece together where we might have picked this crate up,” Ridley states. “I don’t think that will tell us any more about the creature but maybe we can figure out how we ended up with it in the first place.”

You nod in agreement. “Destin, you go with Ridley. Hansol and I will see what Jones and Liang are up to.”

As if summoned, you hear Jones’ voice echo from your comms.

“Captain, come in. Are you alright?” 

You stare at the device for a moment. The other crew members in the room turn to look at you, also confused. You raise your wrist toward your face to reply. 

“I’m here. What do you mean?” 

“We just saw you down the corridor but you were acting… weird. Are you on Deck 7 right now?”

Your stomach drops. 

“No, we’re in Ridley’s office. Jones, that wasn’t me.”

“Shit. It looked just like you, Captain, I swear,” she replies.

“What was… it doing?” you ask reluctantly. But you have to know.

“You… well, the creature I guess - it was walking really fast toward the medical bay. I called your name out and it turned and looked at me but…” her voice trails off. “I’m not gonna lie, the look in your- its eyes scared the shit out of me. It was a cold dead stare. Then it said something but I couldn’t understand, it was unintelligible. But it was your voice, Captain.”

You instinctively look up at Hansol, meeting his gaze with horror in your eyes. He looks deeply concerned, but he remains calm. You would never admit it to him, but his presence always reassures you when you would otherwise be freaking out. You take a deep breath; your mind refocuses, and you decide you can worry about the details later. 

“Should we go after it?” Jones’ voice rings through the comms.

“No, not yet - it’s too risky. Stay where you are, Hansol and I are on our way.”

You signal to your Pilot to follow, but he’s already by your side, pulse rifle at the ready. 

"Turn your locators on your comms on,” you order to the whole crew. “Send a ping to check positions if you see somebody out of place. Report back with any anomalies. And stick with your partner at all times. I don’t want anybody going off by themselves.” 

You and Hansol head straight for Deck 7, walking hastily but with caution. Every corner you turn, every airlock you open - you expect to see the image of a crew member lurking there, out of place. You remain focused, but there’s no denying you’re a little on edge. 

Hansol notices, of course - he always does. You’re good at hiding it when you’re stressed or anxious - it’s part of the job, after all - but he’s known you long enough to recognize that you’re growing increasingly nervous. He watches the back of your head as you walk briskly down the corridor, alert and attentive as you clear each passing airlock.

“Hey,” he speaks softly. “Captain.”

You make sure the next hallway is clear before turning to face the voice behind you. It’s just Hansol, but something about seeing him gives you a sense of reassurance you didn’t know you needed.

“Yeah? What’s up?”

“Do you think we should send a distress signal?”

You pause for a moment, staring off into the distance as you mull over his words. Slowly, you begin to nod your head.

“I’ve been considering it for a while now,” you admit. “I didn’t want to jump the gun, but I think at this point it’s better safe than sorry.”

“I agree,” he nods. “Let’s head to the bridge after we meet up with Jones and Liang - no need to split up.”

You continue toward Deck 7. As you near where your crew is stationed, you hear loud banging sounds, followed by a thunderous CRASH. Your heart rate spikes. Glancing at Hansol, he looks equally as concerned. You raise your pulse rifles and start running toward the noises, when then you hear Liang’s voice ringing through the hallway.

“FUUUUCCCKKKKKK!!!”

You and Hansol burst into the room, prepared for the worst - but all you see is the Engineering Lab, looking like a tornado went through it. Liang is at one of the workstations, smashing some sort of device with a hammer while screaming expletives. Jones is laying on the floor, looking like she has given up.

“What the hell is going on??” you inquire loudly, relieved that there is no emergency but exasperated from the near-heart attack Liang almost gave you. “I thought you were dying in here!”

“Liang is smashing her third attempt at a tracking device with a hammer,” Jones remarks dryly. “I’m lying on the floor.”

“Yes, I see that,” you reply with an eye roll. 

“It’s not BANG fucking BANG WORKING!!!” Liang bellows, giving the busted machine a final BANG before shoving it off the desk. Her shoulders slump as she hangs her head in her hands. You glance at Hansol out of the corner of your eye; he meets your gaze. You stare at each other for a moment, then the corners of his mouth start to twitch. You bite your lip to prevent bursting out in laughter; Hansol tries his hardest to stifle his grin. Nothing about this situation is funny, but the ridiculousness of it all definitely offers some comic relief. 

Hansol clears his throat, shoving the laughter back down. “Um, so what have you tried so far?”

“Well, somebody fucked up the first machine because they got a little too solder-happy,” Liang grumbles, shooting a glare at Jones.

“I said I was sorry!” Jones retorts, exaggeratedly throwing her hands up into the air.

“The second one was close, I could feel it - but then I fucked up the wiring so bad I just decided to start from scratch again.”

“And you see how well that went,” Jones teases. Liang picks up a pencil and chucks it at Jones, hitting her in the forehead.

“OW!”

“Get up, dumbass. Make yourself useful and go get some power couplers,” Liang gestures at the giant wall of spare parts.

“Alright, alright! Damn!” 

She hops up and brushes hastily past a shocked-looking Hansol to go fetch the requested parts. You laugh, remembering that this is his first mission working with these two. 

“They’re always like this,” you reassure him out of earshot of your crew members. “Trust me, they’re best friends.”

Hansol scratches his head, letting out a nervous laugh. 

“If you say so, boss.”

You head over to Liang’s workstation as she plops what you can only assume is Attempt #2 onto the desk. It’s a bulky, unsightly thing - a crudely-soldered collection of mismatched parts - but as she flips a switch it whirrs to life, displaying a blue hologram screen that you recognize as the ship’s schematics. Four glowing white dots appear upon the map.

“So obviously, that’s us,” Liang states. She makes some adjustments, zooming the display out to show the whole ship, and two additional white dots pop up. “And that’s Destin and Ridley up on Deck 3. Still no sign of our alien anywhere.”

“I assume you built an electroscope into the device?” Hansol asks Liang.

“Yeah, but it’s not detecting any anomalies.”

“What’s the detection threshold for static electricity, millivolts? Microvolts?”

“Microvolts,” Liang answers, raising her eyebrow at Hansol. “Why?”

“Instead of volts, hone in on the amps,” he instructs. “And up the sensitivity to nanoamps. I have a hunch.”

“Oookay,” she agrees with a shrug. “Can’t hurt to try anyways.”

Jones returns, setting a handful of power couplers on the desk. Hansol gets to work rummaging through endless boxes of parts; he returns in a few minutes with dozens of tiny pieces of machinery. He and Liang get to work, fine-tuning the machine. You don’t exactly want to sit around doing nothing, but you’re not much use here - and besides, you could use a few moments of rest. You plop down on a nearby rusty folding chair, watching your crew diligently fiddle with the contraption, but you quickly catch yourself zoning out. You didn’t realize how exhausted you were until right now. You close your eyes, just for a minute, you tell yourself. Just a quick breather…

“Captain!”

You jolt awake from the nap you didn’t know you were taking, nearly falling off the flimsy chair.

“What’s happening?” you ask frantically. “What time is it? What-”

You feel a hand on your shoulder. You look up to find Hansol’s face hovering above yours.

“God, you have got to stop doing that!”

“Sorry,” he replies with a sheepish smile. “We finished.”

“Fuck, how long was I out?”

“16 minutes and 58 seconds,” Jones reads from her watch. 

“Oh,” you say as the panic in your body ceases. “That was fast.”

“Yeah, because me and Hansol are geniuses,” Liang says smugly. 

“Well, does it work?” you inquire, getting up and walking back to the workstation.

“Don’t know,” Hansol replies matter-of-factly. “We’re about to fire it up.”

“Moment of truth…” Liang says with hesitant optimism. She flips a few switches, but the machine remains silent. Her eyes widen, looking like she’s about to reach for her hammer again, but fortunately the machine slowly starts booting up.

“Oh thank fuck,” she exhales. The blue screen pops up again, showing the same dots as before. Grimacing, she stares at the machine tiredly. “Well, nevermind that.”

“Wait,” you call out, leaning in to get a better look at the display. “Zoom in on our location.”

Liang zooms in on the Engineering Lab, the cluster of four dots growing larger. 

No… five dots.

Everyone stares at the display in silence, processing what is being shown.

“Zoom back out?” Jones requests quietly. 

Liang zooms out. Two additional dots appear for Ridley and Destin, still on Deck 3. You look back at the five dots in the Engineering Lab. Four are stationary, the fifth one slowly circling the others.

“There it is…” Liang utters, her voice barely more than a whisper.

You raise your comms to your chin. “Ridley, Destin, come in. State your locations,” your voice wavers as you ask the question you already know the answer to.

“Ridley here. I’m with Destin on Deck 3.”

“Destin here, copy that.”

You ping them on the locator, just to triple check - but they are indeed still up on Deck 3.

You stare at the fifth dot at your location. It’s still circling the other four, the eerie steadiness of its creeping pace sending a haunting chill up your spine. You feel the room shift, abject horror washing over everyone’s faces as the severity of the situation sinks in.

You slowly raise your pulse rifle, signaling for your crew to do the same. Everyone looks around the room anxiously.

“Where the hell is it?” Jones whispers reluctantly. The room falls silent as everyone tries to detect any trace of the creature. Then, you hear it.

swhoooooosh

The sound comes from above. It’s almost undetectable, but you hear it: the sound of wet, muted slithering from hell, accompanied by horrid crackling noises.

Hansol hears it too. He peers up, staring at the ceiling, his eyes widening with fear.

“It’s in the walls.”

“How…” Jones’ voice trails off momentarily. “I thought it was supposed to be gigantic… how can it fit in there?”

“I don’t know,” you respond as you cock your rifle, holding it at the ready. You point the barrel at the source of the sounds, tracing steadily along the ceiling as you hear it move above you. “But that doesn’t really matter right now. Everyone stick together at the center of the room - but hold your fire.”

“Blasters to stun?” Hansol checks, his arm brushing against your shoulder as he takes his position beside you. You turn, unintentionally staring directly into his eyes; your mind is racing, but his steadfast gaze grounds you back in reality. You nod at him.

“For now,” you add quietly. 

The slithering and crunching continues, barely audible, but it echoes through your skull like nails on a chalkboard. You continue tracing the sounds with the muzzle of your rifle, when suddenly the noises cease, right above a vent cover.

“The vent!” Jones stammers. Time seems to freeze as you all stare at the hatch in the ceiling, terrified to blink or breathe lest it makes its move. You don’t know how much time passes - all you can focus on is the dreadful roar of blood rushing through your ears. Your heart pounds in your chest, so heavily it threatens to burst through your ribcage. But all there is is silence. Until-

BANG.

The vent cover rattles in its frame as the creature slams against it.

BANG.

Dust and particles trickle down from the ceiling. The whole room seems to shake.

BANG.

The vent protrudes from the blows, threatening to burst at the seams.

BANG!!!!

The dense metal covering gives way, falling to the ground below. Harsh clanging sounds ricochet through the room as it bounces off the floor - but the creature remains in the shadows above.

“I can’t see it,” Liang frantically hollers, staring up into the dark hole. “Where is it?”

Nobody moves as dust and shards of metal settle onto the ground, leaving behind deafening silence. Then, a series of deep, hollow clicks starts rippling through the air - you can’t tell where it’s coming from, it feels like it's all around you. A large dark figure suddenly plummets to the ground, landing with another deafening CRASH. You immediately fire your weapon, but it darts away, vanishing as quickly as it appeared.

“It’s over there!!” Jones screams, firing at a black blurry form in the corner of the room. You turn your head, trying to follow the horrid clicking sounds, but it’s as if you’re moving in slow motion - by the time you are facing it, it darts off in another direction. You do your best to aim and shoot, but your vision grows fuzzy, your head spinning with vertigo as you struggle to maintain focus.

“I can’t see!!” somebody shrieks. The room wobbles around you as you try to locate the creature, but it's near impossible. Finally, you spot the dark figure hovering not five feet in front of you, standing above one of your crew - your vision is too obscured to tell who. It raises its appendage, ready to attack. You scream, raising your pulse rifle with frustrating slowness, aiming it at the creature, but you know you’re too late. The crew member cries out in terror as the creature swings toward them, but then the room fills with a blinding flash of somebody firing point-blank at the creature. The creature howls, flying back up into the vent in a single leap. You hear it slithering away, its body crunching and creaking as it forces itself through the walls. By the time you can see straight again, it’s long gone. 

Your eyes focus on the crew member laying upon the ground: it’s Jones. Her left sleeve is ripped clean off her jumpsuit, exposing a set of three slashes in her skin. You rush to her side, careful not to touch the wound. All things considered, it could be a lot worse - it’s not very deep, just a scratch, but the wound is already turning a concerning shade of purple. You whip your head up to find Hansol - you spot him across the room, helping Liang off the ground, both of them seemingly unscathed. Jones grits her teeth as she groans, clutching her arm in pain.

“How bad is it?” she asks reluctantly. 

“Not the worst I’ve ever, but also not great,” you tell her truthfully. “Looks like our alien is venomous, unfortunately.”

“Yeah, might explain why it feels like my bones are on fire,” she remarks with a forced laugh. Hansol and Liang appear by your side, crouching down to get a good look at the wound.

“Yikes,” Hansol exclaims as his face grows contorted with disgust. Liang elbows him in the rib. “I mean, you’ll be fine,” he adds. He looks up at you. “Looks like we need an antidote. I think we can use the goo.”

“Shit, you’re right.” You jump into action, paging your Destin and Ridley on your comms. “Atlas crew, come in. We encountered the alien. This is Code Red - I repeat, this is Code Red.”

“Is everyone alright? What happened?” Ridley’s voice rings through the device.

“I… I don’t know really. We were attacked. Jones got hit and turns out the damn thing is venomous. We need an antidote - Destin, you there?”

“Copy, Captain. I can use the sample from earlier to cook one up. We’ll head to the lab, stat.”

“Wait,” you reply hastily. You return to the tracking device, thankfully unharmed despite the commotion. Zooming out, you see the seventh dot rapidly heading toward the upper decks.

“It’s headed right toward you. You have to go now - and FAST.”

“Roger that, Captain,” Destin responds. “We’re quite close to the Laboratory so we should be okay, but we’ll remain on high alert.”

“Keep us updated. Liang will take Jones straight to the Medical Bay. Me and Hansol will meet you at the lab to fetch the antidote.”

“Got it.”

You grab the bulky tracking device off the desk, taking a spare strap of leather from the ground and hurriedly fastening it to the device with some rivets. You go to put the strap around your shoulders, when Hansol stops you. 

“I’ll take it,” he insists, attaching the device to himself before you can protest. “You’re a better shot than me, in case we encounter that fucking thing again.” 

“Captain-” Liang shouts from behind. You turn to see her lifting Jones off the ground, but barely - as Jones is nearly a head taller than herself. They both stumble - you rush in to grab Jones’ torso, hoisting her back up while being careful to avoid touching the wound. You look back at Hansol.

“I’ll go get the antidote. You guys get Jones to Medical.”

“No!” you shout, louder than you mean to. “I don’t want you going by yourself. Come with us-”

Hansol shakes his head. “You know it’ll be faster if I go alone. We can’t waste any time.” He gestures to Jones’ arm, which is even more purple at this point.

You sigh reluctantly, but you know he’s right. 

“But be careful,” you tell him sternly. “Please,” you add in a softer voice.

He gives you a quick salute, then disappears out of the room, tracking device and pulse rifle in tow. An anxious pit starts to develop in your stomach, but you ignore it. He’ll be fine, you tell yourself. And you know it’s true. But if something happened to Hansol… you would never be able to forgive yourself.

Turning back to Jones, you hoist her up so she can lean most of her weight on you. Liang pulls her rifle at the ready - and the three of you take off to the Medical Bay. It’s not terribly far from where you are, but having to drag an entire crew member with you makes the journey feel ten times longer than it actually is. You wish you had the tracking device to calm your nerves, but you know it was the right decision for Hansol to take it - he is heading in the same direction as the creature, after all. Eleven grueling minutes later, you arrive at the Medical Bay. You quickly help Jones into a medical capsule - the stasis technology won’t stop the venom from spreading, but it will at least slow it down slightly. You just hope and pray it’s enough. 

“I’m going to the Bridge to send the distress signal,” you inform Liang. “Stay here with Jones, ping my comms if anything changes.” She stares back at you solemnly, not liking that you have to go off alone too, but she nods in agreement.

You run as fast as you can toward the Bridge, willing the creature to be anywhere else but in your path. You approach the final corridor, relief washing over you that you’re almost there. The pneumatic door whooshes open as you turn the corner; you look down the long hall to see the Bridge’s bright blue security door-

And Hansol is standing right in front of it. 

Except, it’s not Hansol. You don’t even have to stop and think about it, you just know: that’s. not. him.

The creature disguised as Hansol stands unnaturally stiff, in an unnaturally wide stance, shoulders hunched in a way that seems painful. But the dead giveaway is the eyes - instead of the familiar warm gaze of Hansol’s brown eyes, you are met with a cold, hard glare of solid black irises. The hollow, disturbing clicking sounds from earlier begin again as the creature contorts Hansol’s lips into a hideous snarl. The same disgusting slimy goo you found in the crate starts to ooze from Hansol’s mouth, frothing and gurgling repulsively; it has also started pooling around Hansol’s boots where the vile creature stands. You stare back at it intensely, trying to see if you can get any read on it, any sense of kindness or well intentions - but all you can glean from its dead piercing eyes is a dark, harrowing sense of evil.

Then, it charges at you.

The Hansol doppelganger runs awkwardly, but startlingly fast, speeding straight down the corridor to where you stand. You don’t even have time to think - you shut the airlock and engage the blast shields moments before it reaches you. It thuds against the blast shields with a thunderous BANG.

You run. You don’t know where you’re going, you just run - as fast as you possibly can. All you can hear as you run away is

BANG.

BANG.

BANG.

It grows quieter the further you run, but you know if the creature can’t break down the blast doors it will just find another way out. You run, zig-zagging randomly down the corridors, until your legs feel like they’re going to give out. You slow to a stop - just for a moment, to catch your breath, when Ridley’s voice suddenly echoes from your comms. 

“I just ran into the alien,” he frantically informs all channels. “And it fucking looked like me.”

“Ridley - are you hurt?” you quickly respond.

“My shoulder, it might be sprained,” he groans. “I’ll live. But shit, that was fucked up man, that was so fucked up…”

“Tell me what happened.”

“I turned the corner and saw myself standing right in front of me, god it was so fucking weird. But Captain - it talked. In my own voice. It said… It asked me, ‘Whoooo areeee youuuuu’. Fuck, it was so creepy. I blasted it in the face five times, that fucker barely even flinched. Then it picked me up and threw me into the wall. Landed on my shoulder, I think I might have sprained it - but I’ll live.” 

“Where is it now, Ridley?” you ask imperatively. “Where did it go?”

“Ran off toward the upper decks, I think. Starboard.”

You look up, checking the corridor number where you ended up. Sure enough, the creature must be headed your way. Just my fucking luck. You start off in the opposite direction, aiming to avoid running into it, when you hear the thump thump thump thump of heavy footsteps growing louder.

It’s coming.

You have no time to think. You spot a supply closet - definitely not the world’s greatest hiding place, but it’ll have to do. You pull the door shut as you stumble into the closet, practically throwing yourself to the ground. You sit against the wall behind one of the shelves, pulse rifle across your lap in case you need to think quick. The thump thump thump thump-ing continues, the owner of the footsteps clearly getting closer. And closer. And closer. Then, they stop - right outside the closet door. You practically hold your breath, lest you make any sound to alert it to your presence. The doorknob squeaks as it slowly turns; bright light floods the small closet as the door opens. You raise your weapon, aiming it at- Hansol?

His eyes widen as he stares down the barrel of your rifle. He gently raises his hands, gesturing to you to lower the weapon.

“Hey, Captain-”

“Don’t move!!” you scream, rifle trembling in your grasp. 

“Captain, it’s me-”

“How do I know it’s really you??”

Tears flood your eyes as you stare down your Pilot, blaster aimed directly at his head.

“Y/n, what happened?” 

His soft voice fills your ears. You stare into his eyes - warm, brown, gazing down at you with concern. Those are Hansol’s eyes alright, but you know the alien keeps getting better at mimicking your crew - plus, it can speak now. You have to be sure.

“Tell me something so I know it’s really you,” you demand, your voice wavering. “Something only the real Hansol would know.”

He looks back at you for a moment, thinking. 

“Do you remember how we first met?”

You stare up at him, still afraid, but you wait for him to continue.

“It was our first year at the Academy, on our third day of training. I was exhausted already - we all were. That first week was rough, I mean they really tried to kill us with the physical examinations, huh,” he says, a small grin appearing on his face as he reminisces. “Anyway, I didn’t know it but I had somehow already made an enemy. Chadley Praxton.” Mumbling, he adds, “stupid fucking name…” You’re still trembling, but the corners of your mouth twitch briefly into the tiniest of smiles. “Anyway, he was an asshole and decided I was a nerd or something, I don’t know what his deal was. In the mess hall that night he kept throwing peas at my head, for some reason. I ignored it, but then he started flinging bits of mashed potatoes with his spoon. I grabbed my tray and started to leave - but not before this random girl from my barracks walked right past him and dumped her full cup of cola and ice on his head.” He laughs, shaking his head at you. “You went, ‘Oops! Sorry!' in the most insincere tone and just kept walking. That’s when I knew I wanted to be your friend.”

He makes eye contact with you again, the smile on his face so kind you almost forget where you were for a moment. You go to lower your weapon, but realize you’ve already lowered it. You drop it to the ground, then burst into tears.

Hansol stands there, unsure what to do for a moment.

“Can I… come in?” 

Your face is buried in your hands as you sob uncontrollably, but you nod. He enters the supply closet, shutting the door gently behind him, then plops down right next to you. Hesitantly, he gives you a couple pats on the shoulder - you lean in to him, burying your head in the crook of his neck. Fuck it, he decides, and wraps his arm around you, letting you cry as he holds you. After a few minutes, you start to calm down.

“Sorry,” you say with an embarrassed sniffle. “I didn’t mean to have a mental breakdown on you.”

“It’s okay.”

He rubs your arm as he embraces you, letting you lean against him still. You wonder when the last time you felt this calm was.

“I ran into the creature earlier. It looked like you, but it was all horribly wrong,” you explain. “That’s why I freaked out when I saw you.”

You feel him nod. “I figured.”

“Hansol, I was so fucking scared. I mean, I still am - I don’t know what’s going to happen. And I hate not knowing.”

“I know, me too,” he says as he rests his chin against the top of your head. “It’s going to be okay though.” He pauses, then somberly adds: “It has to be.”

You sit in silence for a few moments, listening to the steady rhythm of Hansol’s heart beating in his chest. 

“Can I ask you something?”

You lift your head up to look at him after you ask. You see your trusty Pilot before you, but more importantly, you see your friend. Hansol.

“Sure,” he answers. “Of course.”

“I’ve heard rumors, but I’ve never known for sure. Did you have a mission that ended… badly?”

Hansol closes his eyes, giving you a solemn nod. 

“Yeah. Four years ago, I was on a short transport mission. Was supposed to be super easy - one payload to be picked up and delivered. We’d all done it a hundred times. We were nearly at the destination planet when the ship had a strange malfunction. One of the engines shut down and nobody could figure out why. I offered to suit up and go check it out, but our Captain insisted he would go instead. Because it was my birthday.” He laughs softly. “He was always like that - he really cared about the crew. Just like you do.”

He looks back to you as he says it, and it makes your heart sink.

“So he went out to do a routine maintenance check. But, turns out the engine shut down due to a gas leak. I don’t know how it went undetected, but it did. The moment he took a pistol grip to the tank carriage, it exploded.”

“Oh my god,” you mutter softly.

“Yeah. It severed his tether and pierced his primary life support system. He died instantly.”

A gentle stream of tears falls from each of his eyes, running gracefully down his face. 

“We had to make an emergency evacuation in the auxiliary shuttle. There was no time to even retrieve his body. That was the worst part of it all: watching him float off into the void of space as we flew away to safety, knowing there was absolutely nothing we could do. I’ll never be able to get that image out of my head. It haunts me.”

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, placing your hand on top of his. 

You stay there together, sitting in silence for a bit. You find yourself leaning your head on his shoulder again - it’s comforting for both of you.

“Thank you,” you finally say.

He tilts his head to look at you. “For what?”

“For being there.”

He smiles softly. “You too.”

You sit up abruptly. “The antidote!! And the distress call! Did we-”

“We got it,” he answers immediately, quelling your worries. “I noticed the distress signal wasn’t sent yet, so after I delivered the antidote to the Med Bay I went to the Bridge - everyone else stayed behind with Jones. You weren’t in the Bridge, so I sent the distress call and went to come find you.”

“Why didn’t you just call me on the comms?”

He grins, lifting up his wrist to show the busted remains of what was once his comms.

“What the fuck did you do?” you inquire, your eyebrows furrowed with concern.

“Had a brief run in with the alien. It was a giant dark blur again - I fired at it like 15 times in a row but it still managed to body slam me into the ground.” He shrugs. “Then it ran off.”

“And the only thing hurt was your comms?”

“Um, I might have a broken rib,” he admits, scratching his head. “But it’s fine.”

“What?! Okay, come on, let’s get you to Medical too.”

“I’m fine, really,” he insists, but he reaches for the tracking device from his stash. “Here.” He fires it up, the hologram display projecting seven white dots before you. Two are you and Hansol, in this stupid supply closet. Four are the rest of your crew up in the Medical Bay. And one lone dot lingers near the engine rooms.

“Okay, the creature isn’t close, that’s good,” you comment. “But why is it down there…”

“I dunno, but it can’t possibly be up to anything good.”

You and Hansol make it back to the Medical Bay with no issues - the creature appears to be staying put for now. You’re relieved to find Jones with two intact arms, the sickly scratches looking significantly less purple after the antidote.

“Practically good as new, boss,” Jones announces cheerfully. “I’m ready to get back out there. What’s our game plan?”

“Well, Hansol sent the distress signal but so far, no response. One option: stay here - lock down Med Bay and wait for someone to pick up our beacon.”

“And hope and pray that the creature can’t break in?” Destin questions. You sigh, but you know he’s right. “What are our other options?” he asks. 

“Well, we could-”

Your sentence is cut off by the sudden blaring of the emergency alarms. 

Startled, everybody jumps to their feet. A loud, grating bell rings on top of the piercing sirens.

“What’s happening?” Liang shouts over the noise.

Hansol is already at the terminal, pulling up the reports. His face drops as he reads the text on the glowing blue screen.

“One of the exhaust pumps on the portside engines is malfunctioning!” he shouts urgently.

“What??” you shout back. “How-”

You are interrupted by another bell ringing.

“A second exhaust pump is offline??” Hansol yells with confusion. He scrambles back to the tracking device - six dots up in Med Bay, one down in the engine room. 

Another bell. You don’t have to look at the terminal to know exactly what is happening.

“That thing is dismantling the exhaust pumps!!” you shout, watching as fear washes over your crew’s faces yet again.

“The ship is gonna fucking blow if it keeps this up!!” Liang shrieks.

You find yourself looking to Hansol. He nods to you, and you know what must be done.

“EVERYBODY TO THE AUXILIARY SHIP,” you command your crew. “WE’RE EVACUATING - NOW.” 

“What about the alien??” Ridley yells. “What if it comes after us?”

You look back at him, replying with a single word.

“Run.”

The blaring alarms screech in your ears as you and your crew bolt through the ship, heaving footsteps clanging against the metal floors as the emergency lights flood the hallways with their incessant flashing. You sprint, as fast as your exhausted body will allow, but time seems to lag, your movements occurring in slow motion. But you can’t stop - not until your whole crew is safe. 

“It’s running right towards us!” Hansol hollers from right behind you. “Approaching fast, from behind, 1000 meters…” Then, seconds later, “800 meters… 600…”

“Shit,” you growl under your breath. You yank your pulse rifle up, cranking the blaster to maximum voltage. You’re not taking any more fucking chances.

“500 meters,” Hansol shouts. “400… 300…”

You stop in your tracks, whipping around to face the hallway you just came from. Your crew follows suit. 

“KEEP GOING,” you shout to your crew. 

“No way,” Ridley shouts back. “We’re sticking with you.”

“THAT’S AN ORDER.”

You scan the faces of your crew - they are filled with terror, but you see the determination in their eyes. They each salute you, then run. You watch the backs of their heads as they flee down the corridor. A horrible feeling that you will never see them again creeps into your head.

You turn back around, Hansol standing beside you, ready to fight.

“Hansol, GO.”

He shakes his head in refusal. “I’m not leaving you, Captain.”

He looks at the tracking device once more. 

“200 meters, 150, 100…”

You hold your ground, bracing yourself for the worst. You hear the repulsive scuttle of the creature’s footsteps, rapidly approaching, accompanied by the god-awful scraping of its claws against metal. You aim at the airlock, finger on the trigger - but the pneumatic door doesn’t open. The horrifying realization sinks in as you hear it stomp and crunch above your head, passing you in an instant as it heads directly for the auxiliary ship. 

“It’s still in the fucking walls!” you yell urgently to the rest of your crew over your comms. “It’s heading straight for our escape route - divert course immediately!!”

Several seconds pass with no response, and you fear for the worst. But then you hear Jones’ voice crackling through.

“We’re headed to the nearest Emergency Ejection Modules,” she shouts through the static. “We lost Destin though, I don’t know where he went!”

“Keep going - don’t stop for anything.”

You switch channels, pinging Destin’s comms.

“Destin, come in - where are you?”

“I’m going to distract it,” his voice rings distantly through the device. “You and Hansol get to the auxiliary ship, I’ll lure it away.”

“No! It’s too dangerous-”

“Godspeed, Captain.”

The channel goes quiet as he shuts off his comms.

“What the fuck is he doing??” you cry out, staring incredulously at Hansol. 

“I don’t know, but it’s working,” he replies as he looks down at the tracking device. You see two stray dots on the map, heading for the aft. The confusion on Hansol’s face lifts as he realizes.

“I think he’s going to try and trap it in the garbage receptacle.”

“He’s going to get himself killed,” you grumble.

“What do we do?”

You meet Hansol’s eyes. He patiently awaits your order, looking back at you with all the trust in the galaxy. It nearly rips your heart in half.

“I don’t-”

BOOOOOOOOM.

The rumbling explosion cuts you off. You feel the ground shake beneath your feet.

“That was nearby,” Hansol announces with concern. Pulling up the map again you see a third dot on the deck above your current position, unmoving. Another dot speeds back in the direction of the other crew members.

“Quick!” You sprint up the nearest stairwell, Hansol right by your side. Up on the next deck you find yourself in Central Mainframe Storage, but one of the huge towers of computers has been fully knocked over. Spark zap in the air as the exposed wiring flickers to death. Then, at the other end of the room, you spot your Science Officer. He clings to the Terminal as balances himself on one leg, the other appearing to be badly mangled.

“Destin!” you shout. He peers over his shoulder, his face contorted with pain. 

“You have to go,” he tells you somberly as he types a long string of codes into the Terminal. “I’m gonna blow this shit to pieces.”

Flashing red lights fill the room as a deep, thundering alarm overtakes the air. The sound fills you with imminent dread.

“Emergency Self-Destruct System activated,” a robotic female voice echoes through the chamber. “T-minus 10 minutes until self-destruction.”

“Destin what the hell?!?!” you shriek.

“This is all my fault,” he laments, hanging his head low in shame. “I’m the one who allowed the crate containing the specimen on board.”

“What? I…” you struggle to form words as shock, confusion, betrayal course through you all at once. “Why?”

“Three months ago I was contacted by a strange man. I never even found out his name, he told me just to refer to him as The Ambassador.” He rolls his eyes with a huff. “That should’ve been the first red flag. But he was looking for a recruit to help him on a project called Operation Prometheus. He told me it was a classified government-funded operation and that he couldn’t give me many details, but he needed somebody on the inside to help him bypass security measures to get a crate on this ship for its next mission. I don’t know where it came from, it was being transferred from another cargo ship. Another measure to bury the trail, I guess. But the payout was incredible, almost too good to be true, but he paid me 50% up front. So I agreed. He told me the crate contained new weapon technologies, but he assured me it was perfectly safe for transport.”

He lets out a deep sigh. “I should’ve known better. I don’t think he meant for the alien to ever escape, but regardless I shouldn’t have trusted a word he said.” He pauses, lips quivering as tears start to fall from his eyes. “The only reason I did it was for my family - my daughter, she was diagnosed with a rare blood disorder last year. I took on extra missions, my wife got a second job even, but the bills were insurmountable. We were drowning. Even just the 50% payment was enough to change our lives. My family can be free now.”

“T-minus 9 minutes until self-destruction,” the robotic voice booms through the air.

“You have to go,” he urges you and Hansol.

“We can get you out of here-” Hansol starts, but Destin waves his hand.

“It’s too late, I’m not going to make it,” he shakes his head in defeat. “My leg is broken to pieces and I’ve lost too much blood.”

“Shut up, you’re coming with us,” Hansol snaps, charging over to the Terminal, but he stops in his tracks as Destin raises his rifle at him. 

“Please,” he begs. “I couldn’t live with myself anyway. My will to live is long gone.”

“T-minus 8 minutes until self-destruction.”

“Go!!” he insists again. You grab Hansol’s arm, pulling him along as you back out of the room. He looks at you, distress coloring his face. You shake your head in defeat. 

“There’s no time.”

He nods, reluctant, but he understands. As you step back into the hallway, you take one last look at your Science Officer. Solemnly, he gives you a final salute. He disappears as the airlock shuts itself closed.

“The alien is still headed toward the rest of the crew,” Hansol informs you. “I think we can make it to the auxiliary ship in time.” 

“Atlas Crew, come in,” you call to all channels, panting through labored breaths as you and Hansol run down the hallway. “The alien is headed directly toward your position, get out of there.”

“Roger, Captain,” Ridley responds immediately. “We’re all in the Modules, ready to Evacuate. We may lose contact once we stray too far from the ship.”

“Ejection in 10 seconds,” Liang announces through the comms. “Goodbye Captain, Hansol. If you two don’t make it out alive I’ll kill you.”

A smile spreads across your face. “Godspeed, Crew.”

“Catch you on the flip side,” says Jones. A loud whooshing sound overtakes the comms - the Modules have deployed.

“T-minus 8 minutes until self-destruction.”

“We’re almost there,” Hansol shouts over the awful cacophony of sirens and alarms. You turn the corner, the airlock to the auxiliary ship waiting for you at the end of the corridor. You sprint down the hall, traversing the final 50 meters as fast as you possibly can. You reach the door, scanning your hand to unlock it. It zips open, and you and Hansol practically throw yourselves into the airlock.

“T-minus 7 minutes until self-destruction.”

You scramble into the craft, sealing the blast doors on the airlock and taking your respective places on the flight deck. Hansol fires up the ignition - it gives a few sad-sounding spurts, but the engines fail to start. He stares at the controls, trying again. Same thing. He tries again. And again. 

“Oh my fucking god,” he mumbles, burying his face in his hands as he sinks into the chair in defeat. “You have got to be joking.”

You flip a few more switches - the interior lights turn on, as does the climate control. 

“We have power,” you tell him. “The engines just aren’t firing. Looks like the combustion chambers are offline.” You groan as you too sink into your seat. “I don’t think we could even fix that if we tried.”

“T-minus 6 minutes until self-destruction.”

“Fucking SHUT UP!!!” you scream at the robot voice. Taking a deep breath, you quietly ask Hansol, “What the fuck are we gonna do?”

He thinks, staring blankly at the ceiling. Suddenly, he bolts upright. He starts flipping switches and adjusting dials on the deck. “We have system power, right? So we can at least detach. We float away until the main ship self-destructs, then the explosion will propel us away. Comms are up, we can send a distress signal once we reach a safe distance.”

“‘The explosion will propel us away’.” you repeat. “That, or it blows us to smithereens.”

“Yeah, one of those.”

You mull it over briefly, then shrug your shoulders. “It’s the best shot we’ve got. Let’s do it.”

Hansol dismantles the coupling, detaching the smaller ship from the main hull. Without power, you linger for a moment, but then the ship jolts, sending you floating out of the bay.

“T-minus 5 minutes until self-destruction,” you hear the ominous voice fade as you slowly drift away.

The ambient humming of the ship’s generator fills the air as you sit there together in silence, unmoving except for the steady heaving of your tired chests, waiting out the longest five minutes of your life. You watch the seconds fall in the countdown as you drift, putting good distance between you and the ticking time bomb that is the ship you’d grown quite fond of over the past five years.

“Almost…” you announce as the timer approaches zero. Hansol extends his arm, placing his hand on yours. The unexpected sensation makes your stomach do a little flip, but you accept, turning your hand to lace your fingers through his. You stare out the window, bracing yourself. 

Suddenly, the ship begins to burst. A blinding flash of light causes a momentary white-out - you abruptly squeeze your eyes shut; when you open them again, you watch as your ship silently erupts in a massive ball of fire. The explosion violently shakes the ship, the vibrations rattling deep in your bones. You don’t realize how tight your grip has become on Hansol, but he doesn’t mind. Together, you watch the fiery remnants of the Atlas IV grow smaller as your vessel is safely propelled away by the shockwaves, drifting aimlessly into the void of space.

“Do you think we’re gonna make it back home?” you ask Hansol softly after a few minutes.

“Yes,” he replies without hesitation. Without thinking, he rubs his thumb over your hand lightly, as if he’s done it a million times before. “We’re gonna be okay, y/n.”

“You think we’ll see the rest of our crew again?” 

Hansol ponders for a moment, then a gentle smile appears on lips. He squeezes your hand in his, with no plans to let go.

“I hope so.”

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[colouredbyd]

The Nightingale IV: The Stage Is A Cage

Regulus Black x fem!reader Hunger Games AU

summary: Blades are drawn in silence, gowns shimmer beneath hungry lights, and a voice once meant for lullabies now sings for survival. Applause masks the truth—nothing here is what it seems, because the games are about to begin.

warnings: mentions of weapons,mentions of death, dark inner monologue, basic hunger games warnings

word count: 7.4k (sorry again)

authors note: AHHH here it iss! The Nightingale is finally getting exciting, hope u guys love this chapter :D

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I don’t knock. I don’t ask. I don’t care.

The doors part before me like they’ve learned fear, like even the Capitol — with all its gold-trimmed cruelty and polished glass lies — knows when to step aside, when not to challenge a girl who’s been scraped raw and rebuilt in fire, who walks now not like she’s entering a room but like she’s come to burn it down from the inside out. 

My breath scrapes my throat with every inhale, a blade dragged over stone, and my pulse is pounding like war drums in my skull, too loud, too fast, too much, but I keep moving, fast, furious, shaking with the kind of fury that turns blood into lightning and girls into weapons.

I shove through corridors lined with silk and marble, past the Capitol elite who look at me like I’m a spectacle — something broken, something bleeding, something they can’t wait to see destroyed on a grand stage — but none of them matter, not now, not when I am moving like a storm unbottled, like the grief they crafted has found a spine, a voice, a face they didn’t expect to fight back.

 I don’t stop to listen to the startled gasps of stylists who smell like perfume and privilege, or the Peacekeeper who raises his arm like he might block my path and then lowers it again when he sees the look in my eyes, because whatever he sees there must be sharp enough to cut through all the pretty lies this place was built on.

I don’t know whose room this is, not exactly — maybe a Gamemaker, maybe a sponsor, maybe just some Capitol parasite lounging in gold while the rest of us bleed in the dirt — but it doesn’t matter, because I’ve decided it’s hers, it has to be hers, and if it isn’t, then someone in here is going to pay anyway, because I am not leaving until someone listens, until someone gives me an answer, until someone undoes this.

I push the last set of glittering doors open like they’re nothing more than paper, storming inside as silk drapes flutter in my wake, like even the fabric is afraid of what I’ve become — and then I see her.

Marlene McKinnon.

She’s reclining on a velvet chaise like it’s a throne, legs crossed, fingers curled delicately around a flute of sparkling something that smells like sugar and poison, head tilted just enough to feign surprise but not enough to look afraid — not yet. Her eyes lift slowly, widen slightly, like she wasn’t expecting me to come crashing through her gilded peace, like she never thought the girl she threw into the fire would come clawing her way back out of it so soon.

“You’re going to fix this,” I say, my voice low but shaking with so much rage it barely fits inside my mouth.

She raises an eyebrow, her smile curling at the edges like cigarette smoke. “Fix what, sweetheart?”

I hate the way she says it, soft and syrupy, like I’m a tantrum, like I’m a child, like she hasn’t orchestrated the ruin of my life with that same smile painted on her face.

“Regulus,” I snap, the name cracking through the air like a whip. “You let him take James’s place. You let him volunteer. You let him crawl back into the Games like he’s nothing more than a pawn for your Capitol drama, and now he’s mine again — in there — where you know exactly what will happen to him.”

She sips from her glass, slow and deliberate, like my fury is nothing but background noise to the symphony of her luxury.

“He made his own choice,” she says eventually, voice like silk laced with venom, “and I must say — quite the bold move, quite the stirring tribute. The cameras loved it!”

My laugh is ugly. It bursts from me like something sick, something broken. “The cameras? The cameras?” My hands are fists now, nails carving crescents into my skin. “You’re going to let him die for the second time because it’ll make a good story?”

She stands then, slowly, languidly, like she’s stretching between scenes, like she knows the moment matters and she wants to make sure she’s framed perfectly in the memory of it.

“You’re being dramatic,” she says, her voice a lullaby of cruelty. “He’s not dying. He’s evolving. Do you know what they’re calling him now? The Porcelain Wolf. Isn’t that just delicious?”

My vision goes red. I take a step forward, and I swear if someone doesn’t stop me, I will tear that glass from her hand and make her feel everything she’s done, everything she’s made us become.

“You’re not listening,” I hiss. “He didn’t choose this. You think he did, but you made sure the only choice left to him was a blade or a performance. You turned him into a puppet, and now you’re throwing him back in like he’s still yours to script.”

“Darling,” she breathes, almost affectionately, “he’s always been ours. That’s what Victors are. Yours. Mine. The Capitol’s. And if you want him to survive, I suggest you stop wasting your breath on me and start learning how to dance to the music we play.”

I lunge before I think — or maybe I’ve been thinking the whole time, maybe this was always the plan — but arms are around me in an instant, grabbing, pulling, holding me back as I scream, not words but rage, raw and roaring, the kind that doesn’t beg or plead or cry, the kind that demands, that breaks.

“You won’t get away with this,” I shout, thrashing, voice cracking, vision spinning. “You won’t win. I don’t care how shiny your cameras are or how pretty your edits make it — you won’t have him. You won’t have me.”

Marlene turns her back, adjusts her jewelry, fixes her lipstick in a nearby mirror as if my wrath is nothing more than static noise to be tuned out.

“I already do,” she says.

And as they drag me out, nails scraping against the walls, fury clawing its way out of my chest like a second heartbeat, I realize something so cruel and so terrifying I can hardly breathe.

This is what they want.

This is the beginning of the show.

And I’m playing my part perfectly.

The moment Marlene vanishes — her perfume still curling like smoke in the doorway, her laughter echoing in my teeth like the ghost of something that once meant warmth — they come for me.

Two Peacekeepers, faceless behind those gleaming helmets of ivory, uniforms starched and spotless like they’ve never touched anything real in their lives. Their armor glints beneath the artificial light, white and cruel and silent, like the bones of something ancient and long dead. They don’t speak. They don’t ask. They never do. One merely lifts his hand, and the other steps forward like a shadow uncoiling. They reach for me with fingers too careful, too smooth, as if I’m not a girl but a grenade they’ve been trained to disarm.

Regulus doesn’t try to stop them. Of course he doesn’t. He just turns his face away, already fading back into the Capitol’s mold — jaw clenched, eyes blank, spine straight like a blade sheathed in velvet. He won’t look at me. Not now. Maybe not ever again.

And then they take me.

Their hands don’t come in mercy or urgency. They come with cold certainty, as if they know I am just another obstacle to move. Two Peacekeepers — sleek and silent in their ivory armor — close in, their fingers sharp and clinical as they reach for me. They’re too polished, too well-practiced in the act of capturing, controlling, breaking. No words. No requests. Just that suffocating stillness that wraps around my lungs and fills my throat with fire.

I stand there for a heartbeat, just long enough to let the sting of that silence cut through me. And then, like a rusted latch unlocking, I snap.

I don’t go quietly. I never have. The second their gloved hands make contact with my skin, I jerk back, sharp and violent, every muscle in my body coiled with rage and defiance. My breath comes in quick, shallow gasps, as if I could force my heart to outpace the command of their touch, as if I could rip myself away from them just by willing it hard enough. My fingers curl into claws, nails digging into my palms, hungry for something — anything — to shred apart. The urge to fight is instinctive, like a raw, guttural thing that rises from somewhere deep inside my chest, clawing its way to my throat.

But I don’t.

I know better.

Because there’s a rhythm to this. A dance they’ve perfected in their polished, cold world. And they know how to break you before you even know the steps. They’ll make you burn yourself out, force you to scream, only to watch you fade. Only to strip the fight from you and turn you into something they can control.

And I won’t give them that satisfaction.

So I go.

Not because I want to. Not because my feet aren’t aching to refuse every step, every forced inch they drag me toward the Capitol’s suffocating maw. I go because I have no choice but to survive long enough to make it count. Because I can’t fight them yet — not when the world isn’t watching. Not when they’ll just take everything from me and leave me in pieces.

I go. Not because I want to. Not because I owe them anything. But because there is no use burning the stage before the curtains rise. And if I’m going to burn, it’s going to be seen.

The hallways they drag me through are too bright, too clean, too silent. Marble beneath my boots, glass arching above my head like I’m walking inside a snow globe built by sadists. The air smells like money, like antiseptic and overwatered flowers. Like grief pressed beneath perfume and propaganda.

We pass people who don’t dare meet my eyes — Capitol aides with gold-stained lashes and sequined veins, prep teams wheeling carts of razors and dyes, stylists so surgically perfected they barely seem human anymore. They see the Peacekeepers. They see me. And they flinch. Like maybe, just for a second, they remember what fear feels like.

And then the doors open.

It’s warmer in here. Not in the comforting way. In the way of spotlights and scrutiny. The kind of heat that doesn’t come from fire, but from being watched by too many eyes.

I don’t notice her at first — not beneath the sterile glare of Capitol lighting or the shimmer of mirrored walls designed to reflect your body from every cruel angle, not in the clatter of silver tools being laid out like sacred instruments by stylists who move like they’ve been trained not to speak unless spoken to.

 I don’t see her until she moves, until she rises like a tide breaking the shore, like a whisper curling into a warning, like a blade drawn from a sheath lined in emeralds. And then I do, nd I cannot look away.

Lily Evans.

Not a Capitol darling with glitter caked to her eyelids and a hollow laugh stitched into the corners of her lips, not some surgically sharpened trend puppet built to pose for screens and echo praise like a wind-up doll, not another ghost with painted skin and a voice that sounds like static — no, she is something else entirely, something more ancient than the Games and more dangerous than the knives they’ll hand us in the arena, something made of fire and steel and the kind of silence that makes people nervous because it listens too closely and remembers too much.

She looks at me — really looks — and I feel the breath stutter in my chest like it’s been struck, because her gaze doesn’t flinch or flicker or slide off me like everyone else’s does when they realize I’m not going to play sweet or scared or silent — her eyes are alive in a way that hurts to see, because they aren’t distant or glazed or greedy, they aren’t watching to consume or critique or calculate, they’re just watching, and in that watchfulness there is something that feels too much like understanding, like recognition, like the kind of grief you don’t speak of because naming it would make it real.

They are tired eyes, not lazy, not dulled by excess or comfort, but worn raw by too many nights spent seeing too much and being unable to stop any of it — they are angry eyes too, but the kind of anger that’s grown roots, that’s fed by loss and watered by silence, the kind that waits, the kind that remembers, the kind that doesn’t need to shout to be heard.

I feel something twist low in my gut, something that isn’t quite fear but isn’t hope either — it’s the ache of being seen after spending so long being dressed up and torn down, the ache of realizing that maybe, just maybe, I am not the only one here who hasn’t completely sold their soul to survive.

“You’re late,” she says, cigarette tucked between her fingers, voice clipped and crystalline. There’s a pen in her other hand and a notebook on her lap — both poised like she’s ready to either write your future or stab you with it.

I glare, still caught between fight and freeze. “Didn’t realize I was expected.”

“You’re the Capitol’s latest offering,” she replies coolly. “You’re always expected.”

“If you think I’m going to let them paint me in glitter and parade me across that stage like some Capitol doll, all empty smiles and scripted sob stories, you’ve picked the wrong girl.”

For a moment, the only sound is the faint crackle of Lily’s cigarette, the soft sizzle of ember kissing ash. Then she exhales — slow, unbothered — and closes the notebook on her lap with a softness that feels far more dangerous than any slammed door.

“Oh sweetheart,” she says, not mocking, not cruel — just weary, just honest, the way someone sounds when they’ve said the same line too many times and still hope, irrationally, that this time it’ll land different. “You think they picked you for your consent?”

Her voice is low but laced with something bitter underneath — not aimed at me, but at the system, at the stage, at the world that dressed murder up in gold and called it destiny. She rises, fluid and graceful, a rustle of emerald silk against marble tile, and when she steps toward me, it’s not with the force of someone who wants to tame me, but with the grief of someone who’s already lost girls like me and doesn’t want to do it again.

I lift my chin, defiant. “So what, you’re just here to make sure I sparkle before I die?”

Lily stops, just a breath away now, and for a long moment she doesn’t speak. She just looks at me, eyes searching, something breaking behind the green.

“No,” she says finally, gently. “I’m here to make sure you’re seen. Remembered. Not just as another tribute in a dress, not just as a victim of their games, but as someone who made them look — and feel — and maybe even flinch.”

Her hand doesn’t rise right away. She waits, watching for the recoil, for the mistrust that must live under my skin like shrapnel. But I don’t pull away, and when her fingers brush a piece of hair behind my ear, it’s not performative. It’s soft. It’s human. Her touch is careful — not like she’s afraid I’ll break, but like she knows I already have and is trying not to make the cracks worse.

“They’ll take everything from you,” she whispers, eyes fixed on mine, the scent of jasmine and smoke wrapping around us like memory. “Your name. Your fear. Even your voice, if you let them. But your image — the way you walk into that room, the way you hold yourself, the story you let them think they’re telling — that’s still yours. For now. Let me help you hold on to that, even if it’s only for a little while.”

I look at her then — really look — and it hits me all at once how tired she is, how her elegance is armor, how her kindness is deliberate, how much of herself she must’ve buried to survive here and still reach for others.

“I’m not sure I know how to be unforgettable,” I say, quieter now, not a surrender but something closer to truth.

“You don’t have to know yet,” Lily replies, smiling just slightly, like it costs her something. “You just have to trust that it’s still inside you. That there’s still a spark they haven’t smothered.”

She moves again, graceful as ever, walking back to the vanity and opening a box lined with black silk. From it, she lifts a gown — not the kind you wear to be admired, but the kind you wear to make them kneel.

“And Regulus?” I ask before I can stop myself, voice almost cracking.

Lily’s eyes flicker, just for a second. “He’s getting dressed. He asked for you to go first.”

Of course he did.

“Will I see him before the interviews?”

“Yes,” she says. “He’ll want to rehearse. He’s… very particular.”

I nod slowly, feeling the weight of everything that’s coming, everything I’ve already lost, and everything I might still steal back, if I’m clever enough.

“Good,” I whisper, curling my fingers around the dress like it’s armor. “Because I have things to say.”

“I know it feels like a performance,” she says quietly, as if she can already feel the way my muscles are coiled, the way my hands twitch at my sides, “but tonight isn’t about them. It’s about you. And what you leave behind.”

I don’t answer. I can’t. There’s a knot in my throat I can’t swallow down, a scream that’s been sitting in my ribs since they called my name at the reaping, and it’s taken root like a weed, thorny and bitter.

Lily doesn’t push. She just turns, smooth and steady, and gestures to the middle of the room where a raised platform waits beneath a halo of gold light.

“Come here,” she says, voice velvet and smoke. “Let me show them who you are.”

I step onto the platform, feeling the weight of it beneath my boots, the way the whole world seems to pause the moment I do. The stylists begin to circle — not speaking, not smiling — just moving with careful, reverent precision, like surgeons preparing for something holy. My clothes are stripped away. The dirt beneath my nails is scrubbed until my skin feels raw and new, like something peeled. My hair is washed and combed until the knots surrender and the strands fall like ribbons, soft and shining. My skin is dusted in powders that smell like wildflowers and salt.

The gown waits for me like a promise I never made.

It’s displayed on a mannequin carved from marble, silver needles still glinting where last-minute changes were made by trembling hands. And I can’t breathe—not because it’s beautiful, but because it looks like a thing meant to be remembered long after the girl inside it is gone.

It isn’t black, like I expected. It isn’t soft or girlish or tragic. It’s silver. All silver. Like moonlight poured into a chalice and left to harden into something cruel and gleaming. The fabric ripples like liquid metal, catching the light in sharp flashes that feel almost too bright to look at. It’s sleeveless, the neckline carved into something just shy of dangerous, and the bodice is boned in a way that mimics armor, but bends to the shape of me like it was always meant to fit a girl born to be sacrificed.

Tiny mirrors scatter across the chest and ribs, stitched in patterns that mimic a fractured sky—stars cracked open, constellations broken, shards of light sewn back together with silver thread. The skirt spills like smoke, layer upon layer of sheer silk and metallic mesh, shaped to look like falling feathers and shattered glass. It doesn’t touch the floor—it hovers just above it, like it knows better than to be dirtied by this world.

“It’s breathtaking,” Lily murmurs, standing beside me now, voice quiet like she’s afraid to scare it away. “Do you know what they’re calling you?”

I shake my head.

“The Nightingale” she says. “The Capitol thinks it’s poetic. A girl with a voice like a lullaby and a history that reads like a tragedy. They want to dress you in a requiem.”

I swallow hard, fingers brushing the fabric. It’s cold. Not soft. It doesn’t feel like something made for comfort—it feels like something made for spectacle. Like a funeral shroud dipped in starlight.

“Will it work?” I ask, not sure if I’m asking about the dress or the whole bloody circus of it all.

She looks at me then, really looks at me, and for a moment there’s no Capitol between us, no Games, no death clock ticking in the distance. Just a woman who has dressed too many lambs for slaughter and a girl still trying to pretend she isn’t one of them.

“It will burn them into silence,” Lily says. “And if they’re quiet enough, they might hear your song.”

And I let her dress me.

Because if this is how the world wants to watch me die—shining, unbroken, carved from silver and song—then let them choke on every note.

Her hands are steady as she fastens each hidden clasp, as she adjusts the fall of the fabric at my waist, as she kneels to slip the delicate shoes onto my feet, quiet and sure like a queen crowning her heir.

When it’s done, she doesn’t say anything.

She just turns me to the mirror.

And for the first time — I look.

The girl who stares back at me isn’t soft. She isn’t broken. She’s a wound dressed in silk, a warning written in lace. Her eyes burn like they’ve seen too much, her mouth is a line that could cut if she smiled too wide, and her hands are steady now, no longer trembling.

I don’t recognize her.

And somehow — that’s the point.

“She’s going to be unforgettable,” Lily says behind me, and her voice doesn’t shake.

Not even a little.

The doors open, and I can’t help but feel the weight of the Capitol pressing in from all sides. The Peacekeepers are silent, stoic in their ivory armor, guiding me down the sterile halls with the same mechanical precision they’ve used since the moment I was reaped. Their hands are cold, their touch impersonal — I don’t even flinch anymore. What’s the point in resisting when there’s nowhere left to run?

I step into the rehearsal room, and my breath catches for just a moment.

Regulus stands across the room, framed by the harsh, artificial light. He’s nothing like the boy I once knew, and yet, in so many ways, he still is. He’s been swallowed whole by the Capitol, reshaped into its perfect, unsmiling victor. He’s dressed in a suit of deep black, its sleek fabric gleaming with a hint of silver thread that catches the light as he moves. It clings to his frame like it was made for him — a suit of polished armor that hides whatever is left of the boy who once carved wooden swords for me in our secret hideout.

His tie, dark as the shadows under his eyes, completes the look, giving him an air of detachment, of someone far removed from the world he’s been forced into. I barely recognize him, not in the same way I used to. His face is a mask of quiet perfection, eyes carefully trained forward, avoiding mine like they’ve already built walls between us that we can’t tear down.

I want to say something, anything, but the words are trapped behind a wall of bitterness. The anger burns in my chest, sharp and bitter, but I swallow it down. I won’t let it show. Not yet.

A Capitol official stands by my side, and the words they speak are like an unspoken agreement between all of us. “You’ll stand here,” they say, pointing to a spot beside Regulus. “You’ll play your parts, both of you. The audience needs to see the victor. Needs to see the tribute who will inspire them.”

I want to laugh, the bitterness rising up in my throat again, but I don’t. Instead, I step forward, silent as ever, standing beside him as we are forced into this performance, this sickening charade.

Regulus doesn’t look at me as I take my place next to him, but I feel the tension radiating from him, the way he holds himself just a little too stiff, too careful. He knows this act all too well. He’s the Capitol’s golden boy — its shining victor, its perfect puppet.

The official moves between us, handing us our scripts like they’re handing us chains. “You’re here to be seen,” they say, “Not heard. Answer the questions, smile for the cameras, and remember — they are the ones who will decide your fate.”

Regulus doesn’t flinch at the words, doesn’t react. He’s already learned how to wear the mask. The Capitol has made him too good at it, too practiced at being the thing they want him to be.

The rehearsal starts.

The questions come at us fast, the officials standing just out of view, their eyes trained on us as if we were nothing more than marionettes. The lights are blinding, too bright, too hot. I can feel the sweat beading on my skin, my nerves starting to fray at the edges. This isn’t me. This isn’t who I am. I was never supposed to be here, never supposed to play the Capitol’s game.

The questions to Regulus are easy — about his life since the Games, about his role as a Capitol figure, about his thoughts on the new tributes. His answers come smoothly, almost rehearsed. There’s a coldness in his voice, a calculated calm that I can’t decide if I should admire or despise. He’s perfect, that’s the problem. And I hate him for it.

When it’s my turn, my throat tightens, my hands trembling at my sides. I read the words on the page, but they don’t feel like my own. They’re just lines, just empty words written by someone else for someone else. I try to speak, but my voice cracks on the first syllable, the weight of everything pressing down on me.

Regulus doesn’t look at me while I answer. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t offer comfort. He’s not the boy I once knew, the one who would’ve stood beside me in this moment. He’s just another Capitol puppet now, playing his part like everyone else.

But even through all that, something in his gaze softens just slightly when he finally looks at me — something like a fleeting shadow of the boy I once cared for. It doesn’t last long. It never does.

The rehearsal continues, and by the end of it, I feel like I’ve been hollowed out, emptied of everything that used to be mine. The Capitol has taken its toll, and I know it’s not done with me yet. But I stand there, as still and silent as a statue, waiting for the next performance.

The lights are a hundred tiny suns, burning overhead like they know they're meant to blind.

The stage glows gold. The seats beyond are a field of fireflies—cameras blinking, eyes gleaming, every inch of the Capitol waiting for something they can devour.

The screen above flashes:

District 7

The crowd hushes, then swells again with practiced delight as the host turns, face pale and sharp as a sword.

Severus Snape does not smile. He doesn’t need to.

He rises from his throne of black stone and velvet, long fingers curling around the mic like he’s about to drain it of blood, and says, in a voice like falling ash:

The entire room shakes with applause, a storm of noise that echoes through my chest, reverberating in the pit of my stomach. They chant his name, not as a person but as a symbol—each syllable a prayer, a spell woven from their greed and admiration. Regulus Black. The youngest victor, the face of the Capitol’s cruelty dressed in polished perfection.

When he steps into the light, it’s as though the room goes still, held in suspension by his very presence. There’s a quiet power in the way he moves, as though he’s already decided what will happen before it even occurs. He knows the weight of their eyes, knows the hunger behind them, and he wears it all like a second skin—silent, unshakable. The whispers around him grow softer as if the very act of speaking too loudly would disturb the sanctity of his grace.

His hair is swept back, the dark strands falling effortlessly into place, and his eyes—those eyes—are framed with the softest shadow, the light bending away from them as if afraid to meet the storm within. He’s beautiful in a way that’s almost dangerous, like something too exquisite to be real, too untouched by the world to survive in it.

When his eyes flicker to Snape, they lock—brief but significant—and Regulus gives the slightest of nods. It’s a silent acknowledgment between the two, an understanding of power, of control, of restraint.

He sits.

Snape, ever the eerie calm in this circus, looks at Regulus with something between amusement and scrutiny, his sharp features never quite shifting. He surveys him with the air of someone who’s watched a thousand performances, but still finds himself intrigued.

The host smiles with his mouth, not his eyes. “Regulus. Welcome back to the stage.”

Regulus sits with the kind of stillness that feels dangerous. “Pleasure.”

“You’ve mentored four Games since your win. Some might call that... dedication.”

Regulus’s voice is silk over steel. “I call it obligation.”

Polite laughter rises from the audience. I don’t laugh. My nails dig into my palm, hidden by the folds of my dress.

Snape hums. “And how does it feel to be on the other side again? A Victor stepping back into the arena. That’s… not exactly protocol.”

Regulus tilts his head slightly, gaze unwavering. “Neither is fear, but we all pretend it isn’t there.”

More laughter. More applause. The audience eats it up like it’s candy.

Snape’s smile tightens, but he keeps going. “So then tell us. Why come back now? Why volunteer?”

A pause. A single inhale. And then—

“Because no one else could.”

It’s the kind of answer that dares you to dig deeper. But Snape doesn’t bite. Not yet.

“Still quite the enigma, I see,” he drawls, then leans forward slightly, eyes glittering like a knife pressed under skin. “Do you think you’ll win again?”

Regulus doesn’t flinch. “Winning is relative.”

“Spoken like someone who’s already planning the aftermath.” The host chuckles. “But what about your district partner? Are you prepared to protect her?”

The silence that follows is too long, too sharp. Regulus’s fingers twitch once on the armrest.

“I don’t protect people,” he says coolly. “I train them.”

And just like that, the audience falls in love with him again.

Snape raises a brow, amused. “Well. That’s very… Victor of you.”

“I wouldn’t want to disappoint,” Regulus replies.

It’s a masterclass in control, and the crowd roars its approval.

They don’t know the truth. None of them do.

They don’t know he stepped into that reaping room with the weight of someone else’s name already on his tongue. They don’t know what it cost him. They don’t know what it cost me.

And he doesn’t give them any of it.

He just leans back in his chair and lets them adore him.

From my place in the wings, I can see the way his jaw clenches ever so slightly when the applause surges too loud. I wonder if they see it too. I wonder if they think it’s style.

I know better.

I know it’s grief dressed in velvet.

Snape continues, “And your district partner this year—what are your thoughts?”

Regulus doesn’t look toward the wings, doesn’t even blink in my direction, but I see his jaw flex.

“She’s unpredictable,” he says, voice as smooth as frost. “But we’ve been training. If she listens, she might survive. If not…”

His smile is razor-thin.

“Well. The audience always loves a tragedy.”

They eat it up.

“Thank you, Regulus.”

His name lingers in the air like the final note of a funeral song. And then, with a grin that slices like a knife through silk, Snape turns back to the audience.

“And now,” he says, letting the words stretch and coil with anticipation, “District Seven’s tribute. The Capitol’s silver-winged songbird. Please welcome… (Y/N) (Y/L/N)!”

I step forward.

And for the smallest breath of time, the world stops.

The dress does what we designed it to do—no, what Lily designed it to do, sewn from defiance and dusted with dreams. The fabric doesn’t just catch the light—it consumes it, holds it, lets it pulse beneath the surface like a sleeping star. It glows with a quiet brilliance, as though someone draped the night sky over my shoulders and asked it to breathe. Each ripple of silver clings to me like it remembers the girl I used to be and dares the world to forget her.

Layered over the starlit silk is a delicate constellation of crystal-thread embroidery—stitchwork so fine it looks etched by moonlight itself. It winds over my chest and shoulders in looping galaxies, each tiny star a fragment of something lost and remembered. And hidden among the stars, if you look closely, are little leaves from District Seven—pressed into place with silver thread like relics from home. The mesh shimmers when I breathe, whispering a lullaby no one else can hear.

It looks like armor. It looks like it might protect me.

It won’t.

Snape’s eyes follow me as I sit. He studies me the way collectors study rare things, unsure if they want to own me or lock me away forever. I meet his gaze with my chin high, my heartbeat slow.

He smiles faintly. “You wear that name — the Nightingale— like it belongs to you. Do you like it?”

I tilt my head. “Names are just cages made pretty.”

The audience hums. A ripple of interest. Snape leans in.

“Then what would you call yourself?”

I let the question sit. Let the silence bloom. “I don’t know yet,” I say softly. “Ask me after I survive.”

There’s laughter, but it’s not mocking. It’s hungry.

He shifts. “And what about District 7? You’ve been reaped twice now — first as a child, then again in these… special circumstances. Do you feel like your District still stands behind you?”

A beat. My jaw tightens, just a little. “I think my District is tired of watching its children get turned into ghosts.”

The room stills. The Capitol doesn’t like being reminded of the price. But I don’t look away. I let them feel it. The heaviness in my bones. The memory of screams in the reaping square. The ghosts I carry like songs stuck in my throat.

Snape breaks the tension with a new question, smoother this time. “You were raised poor, weren’t you? Yet here you are — the crowd’s new obsession. How does it feel, going from dust to diamonds?”

I don’t smile. “Diamonds still come from pressure.”

He nods slowly, pleased. “You’ve become quite the symbol. The dress, the poise, the silence before you speak. But there’s something else, isn’t there?” He lifts an eyebrow. “You sing.”

I inhale, just once.

Snape leans forward, eyes gleaming now. “Do you think it’s a weapon? This… gift of yours?”

I glance out across the sea of faces. So many watching. So many hungry to be moved by something that doesn’t bleed. I could tell them yes. I could tell them it’s a trick, a tool, a thing I learned to use because it kept me alive. But instead, I do something far worse.

I rise.

The light shifts as I stand. My dress catches it, twists it, answers it. The stars woven into the fabric begin to pulse in rhythm with my heartbeat — soft at first, then brightening, until each breath sends constellations rippling across my skin.

The crowd quiets.

And I begin.

Just a whisper at first, the barest thread of melody pulled from a memory I never forgot.

“City of Stars Are you shining just for me?

City of Stars

There's so much that I can't see

Who knows

Is this the start of something wonderful or new? Or one more dream

That I cannot make true?”

The fabric responds. The stars stitched into my dress flare, and then — slowly — they rise. Little by little, they drift off the fabric, not in smoke or fire, but like embers floating in space. The constellations untether, surrounding me in a soft, shimmering galaxy. I turn gently, one step, and the trail of light follows like a comet’s tail.

The world is silent.

“City of stars…City of stars You never shined so brightly”

When I stop singing, the stars fall like snow — glimmering motes of silver fading before they touch the ground. The effect is quiet. Haunting. Almost sacred.

I lower my eyes.

I sit again, slowly, the last traces of the illusion fading into the stage beneath my heels.

The crowd loses it. Screams and applause rise like fire, loud enough to shake the glass. They cheer like I’ve just become their favorite story. They cheer because they don’t understand what I’m really saying. With a kind of reverence. Like they’ve seen something they don’t know how to name. Something that doesn’t belong to them but still holds them captive.

Snape gathers himself, straightens, offers a single, approving nod.

Snape leans forward, eyes gleaming. “A fighter. A performer. A poet.” His voice purrs over the mic. “And from District Seven, no less. Fascinating!”

I meet his gaze evenly, unflinching.

He straightens and walks toward center stage. “Ladies and gentlemen, it seems District Seven has sent us more than just tributes this year. They’ve sent legends in the making!”

He stretches his arms wide.

“Let The Hunger Games begin!”

And for a moment, beneath the silver and silk, I wonder—

Am I becoming exactly what they want me to be?

The curtains have barely fallen when the noise of the Capitol fades behind me like a curtain dropping on another version of myself. The version that glowed, that smiled, that sang like it wasn’t her own funeral. Now it’s just me—me, and the ache of performance humming under my skin.

The hallway backstage is cold. Too cold. The kind of chill that doesn’t touch your skin but sinks into your bones, like a warning.

He’s already there.

Leaning against the wall like he’s carved into it. Arms crossed. Jaw tight. No expression, no greeting—just the weight of him filling the silence. He doesn’t look at me, not yet. Just stares ahead like he’s already playing the next move.

“You don’t talk,” Regulus says, the words clipped, sharp, almost too calm. “You don’t argue. You follow every single thing I say. If I say run, you run. If I say kill, you kill. If I say play dead—don’t even blink.”

He turns to face me then.

His eyes are colder than the air around us. Colder than they used to be.

“Do you understand me?”

My throat tightens. I nod because I don’t know what else to do. Because part of me still flinches at that tone, even when it’s him. Especially when it’s him.

“I said—say it.”

My voice comes out softer than I intend. “I understand.”

Something flickers in his expression. Not relief. Not quite. Just something fragile, like anger pressed too hard against fear.

He steps closer.

His voice drops, quieter now, and something raw tugs at the edge of it. “Your voice,” he murmurs. “It still sounds the same.”

I blink. The shift catches me off guard.

“What?”

He swallows, not looking away. “When you sang… it was like back then in the hideout. ” He lets out a breath, unsteady. Something in me snaps.

“Don’t pretend to care now.” My voice isn’t soft anymore. “You left. You didn’t write. You didn’t come back. You let them make you their puppet and you didn’t look back.”

“You think I had a choice?” His voice rises, low and rough, like gravel. “You think I wanted any of this? I stayed away because if I didn’t, they’d have buried you in something prettier than a grave. I stayed away to keep you alive.”

I shake my head, stepping back, but he follows.

“I didn’t survive all this just to be your soldier,” I say, voice trembling with the kind of fury that’s grown up with me. “You don’t get to command me like I’m your mission.”

“You’re not a mission.” He steps closer again, now only inches away, eyes locked on mine, wild with something too desperate to name. “You’re everything I’ve ever had to lose.”

Silence. Thick. Brutal.

He breathes once, hard. Then again.

“I’m not letting them take you,” he says, the words cutting through the air like glass. “Not again. Not like that. So you will obey me. You will survive. And if you don’t—if you die because you thought you knew better—”

He chokes on it.

His jaw clenches. His fists tremble.

“Then I’ll burn that fucking from the inside out.”

I stare at him.

And for a moment, I don’t see the Capitol’s darling or District 7’s ghost. I see the boy who carved wooden stars in a forest hideout. The boy who once held my voice in his hands like it was sacred.

I don’t know what to say.

I leave Regulus standing in the shadows of the preparation room, his presence still hanging in the air like smoke, and I step out into the sterile hall of the Capitol. The noise of the Capitol seems to fade into the distance as I move further away, and it feels like I’m walking in a dream—too clear, too vivid, but still just out of reach.

I slip quietly into James’s room, the air cooler here, the sterile scent of the Capitol seeping into my lungs as I take a seat beside his bed. The only sound is the rhythmic beeping of the machines—steady, constant, like a heartbeat. It’s almost comforting, the quiet hum of life that insists on going on even in the face of everything.

James’s face is pale, his jaw tight with the bruises that mark him, but his chest rises and falls in an even, peaceful rhythm. He’s still alive. And that’s all that matters. He’s still here.

I reach for his hand, the warmth of his skin grounding me, reminding me of everything that’s at stake. I’ve always known there would be consequences to this. I just never knew how much it would break me.

I take a breath, steadying myself, knowing I need to be strong for him. For me. But mostly for them. For the Capitol and the Games.

“James, I don’t know if you’ll ever hear this,” I whisper softly, my voice quieter than I’d like, shaking in the stillness. “But I’m here. I’m right here.”

I glance over at his still form, wondering what he’s thinking, where his mind is as it rests in whatever dreamless state he’s locked in. The room is so silent, and yet it feels like the weight of a thousand voices is pressing down on me.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen next. I don’t know what I’ll have to do in that arena. I just—I just know I can’t let them take us like they took you. Like they took me. I know I have to be strong. For you, for everyone else who’s out there.”

I look down at his hand in mine, the way his fingers feel still and unyielding. A small, bitter laugh escapes my lips.

“I was always the one who sang. You know, before all of this. I used to sing because it was the only thing that made sense. The only thing that made me feel like I was more than the silence around us. But now... now the silence is all that remains. And I hate it. I hate the quiet that fills every room, every corner of the Capitol. It feels like it's closing in on me.”

I breathe in slowly, the air in this room thick with everything I’ve been pushing down for days. I want to say more, to let it all spill out, but I don’t. Because there’s no time for me to fall apart. Not yet.

I let out a shaky breath, the emotion building, but I try to control it. I can’t break here. Not now. Not when the end is drawing near.

I feel the burn in my eyes again, but I refuse to let the tears fall. I can’t afford it. Not when I have this last chance to speak what’s in my heart. To tell James, to tell myself, that I know the stakes now. I know the cost of survival.

“So, I hope, wherever you are, you’ll forgive me.” I close my eyes, feeling the stillness in the room envelop me as I whisper one last time

“Forgive me for dying in the arena... so Regulus can win.”

taglist: @fadingcollectivenightmare @spidermansfangirl   @foulwaterss @slaybestieslay946 @aelinwya @yvessentials @sickly-afraid @urfunnyvalentin3 @hufflebubble53

[amybloomz]

ᯓ★ rusty swing set , plastic slide

where tobias erin rodgers was your best friend

part one: everything eats and is eaten.

author’s note: you know the drill by now!! i listened to adrianne lenker and it came to me.. both parts have been received really well and i thank you all for that!! you guys have been so sweet<3 this one’s a little shorter, sorry about thatttt!

masterlist.

when you were little, you didn’t understand why toby was different. you thought what was happening to him was normal, that it happened to everyone. the other kids would bully him, calling him awful names, his least favourite “ticking toby”. it made you angry. it wasn’t fair, and you decided from that day on that you would always be toby’s friend.

as you got older, you slowly began to realise the reality of the situation. toby was drowning, and you were determined to help him float. you thought you were making progress, and he had one person on each arm trying to pull him out of the water. you and his sister, lyra.

lyra died, and he plunged deeper into the dark depths of the ocean.

you weren’t sure if you were able to pull him out this time. you tried, of course you did, but he was beginning to pull you down with him. you couldn’t let him do that.

you shut your journal, opting to ignore the situation. you shouldn’t think about it for too long or it will become too real. but the handwriting was so clearly toby’s, and the message is only something he’d obviously understand. you open the journal again, flicking through every page. nothing. he had left you nothing. now, you weren’t even sure if what you had seen was real in the first place. you can feel the tall man’s stare— goosebumps attack your skin. nothing.

looking into the mirror is like looking at a painting someone has made of you. it’s so clearly a perception of you, but is it the real one? you weren’t sure. you needed to shower, and you needed to get dressed. everything is normal. nobody is dead. nobody is dead. nobody is dead.

the hot water scalds your skin, but you bear it. soap glides across your body, cleansing you of any blood that was on your hands— no. you shampoo your hair thoroughly, closing your eyes in relief as you finally get to relax. but the water begins to feel thicker, heavier. it felt stickier too— like a sweet syrup. you open your eyes. all you can see is a dense, dark red liquid. you don’t open your mouth, but you wish to scream. in an attempt to get out of the shower, you grip the sides and begin to get out. you move too quick.

there’s a loud thud, then silence.

you gasp for air, desperately trying not to drown. your eyes shoot open and your body moves quicker than you can think. the lights are too bright and the covers are itchy and your gown is clinging to your body. there’s an IV drip connected to you, a heart monitor beeping softly beside you.

confusion wracks at your brain, hammering at it and giving you a headache.

you think you’re in the hospital, but you can never be too sure. trying to remember what happened made your head swim. swimming not drowning. you remember water, and that was it.

a nurse walks in, his eyes widening when he sees you’re awake. he pokes his head back outside, asking a passerby to get a doctor to room 13 before coming back in. he faces you at eye-level, leans in slightly and attempts to make eye contact with you. you look away. you hated eye contact.

“a doctor will be here soon, do you know your name?” he asks smoothly. you nod, telling him your name. your voice is hoarse, and you’d come to the realisation you were dehydrated and hungry. how long had you been drowning for?

a woman in a white coat comes rushing in and you stare her down. “i’m doctor honey, i’ve been your doctor since you arrived,” she says and you continue with your staring.

“how long have i been here exactly?”

“you arrived two days ago, you really did hit your head hard. how is it feeling?”

“like someone’s taken a jackhammer and is hammering it into my skull,”

her laugh is sharp but warm, it brings a soft smile to your face. she whispers something to the nurse and he hurries off quickly. doctor honey sits in a chair beside your bed, aiding you to sit up and giving you a pathetic, flimsy plastic cup of water.

“do you remember what happened before you got here?” you shake your head no. you want to rest your voice, it hurts. everything hurts. your body is screaming at you to succumb to another slumber. you deny it of it’s right.

“at first, your mother thought you’d fallen in the shower. but under further inspection, we concluded that you had suffered blunt force trauma to the head through someone hitting you with the hilt of a tool— like an axe or a shovel.”

your eyes widen in shock, but your eyelids grow heavy so you immediately rest them. doctor honey’s face flashes with sympathy, and you suddenly realise this is a lot deeper than just seeing things.

“ah! jack! thank you for bringing me these dear, you can go take your break,” the nurse, who you now know as jack, rolls in a cart filled with different things that you don’t recognise. he smiles at you before taking his leave, quietly thanking doctor honey as he leaves.

“he’s an apprentice, you see. he only comes here on tuesdays because he’s in med school. he’s going to be an amazing doctor one day,”

you listen to her rambles, thankful for the distraction as she begins to check your head for wounds and change the plasters and wires and bags that have been keeping you alive for the past few days. you think you see the tall man in the corridor, the corner of your eye his favourite place, but he disappears when you look properly.

you think of toby, and what he would say. he always hated hospitals. they were always too bright, too clean, too empty, too sad, too dull, too cold. there was always something. you’d always go with him, even when you were kids and you had to get shots. you hated needles. you’d hold each other’s hand and squeeze your eyes shut tight as it went in, only to be removed shortly after and you not feel a thing. perhaps you should’ve been afraid of the monsters underneath your bed instead of needles. after all, they’re the only things that will truly hurt you.

you think further back, thinking of the warm, golden sun of a summer once lived. playing in the back garden with toby was the only thing you wanted to do. you were in this small doctor’s outfit, tending to toby’s ‘wounds’ (you had told him to pretend to break his leg) and finding him some sticks for crutches. he kept his fake cast on the whole day, and he wore it with pride. he even had you and lyra sign it. part of you wonders if he still has it— the other part knows it probably burned a long with his dad and the rest of the house.

doctor honey shines a light in your eyes and snaps you out of your trance, causing you to jump back in surprise. she apologises profusely, you forgive her, and she goes back to her check up. it must feel rewarding to be a doctor— you’d try if it wasn’t for all the blood. psychologist wouldn’t be so bad though. maybe you could teach people how to swim.

swimming has always been better than drowning.

[q1ngqve]

Hiiii I'm the avenratio x reader requester a while back!! No worries I'm not here to make you hurry up on that but I did want to leave some more food for thought!! :3 But hmmmm AvenRatio who starts their toxic yaoi w you as their messenger/wingman LMAO so you've seen some and been through some shit cause of them HDHSHSHHS and then one day they get together and you're like my work here is done!!! And try to leave but you silly! Silly thing <333 you have been part of their dynamic since the very beginning isn't that why you were both helping them in the first place?

Tsk tsk tsk guess they'll just have to reteach their dumb stupid little human on what's correct or not <333 (yes imagine this w wolf ratio and fox aventurine or something and you're a normal human okay good day idk what my anon tag should be you decide)

im gonna change it up a little because i dont write for mlm so 😼 also reader is a bunny hybrid because ive been obsessed with this dynamic lately

CW; fem! reader, threesome, bunny hybrid reader, fox hybrid aventurine, wolf hybrid dr ratio, degradation, sex toy (dildo), double penetration (ass & vagina), throat fucking

wolf! dr ratio would be degrading you the whole time after he finds out that you think you could just run away after helping them! are you really that dumb or just pretending to not know?

“dumb little bunny, thinking she can just leave us whenever she likes.”

and fox! aventurine would be laugh teasingly at you as he shoves a dildo up your ass, a mischievous glint appearing in his eyes when he turns up the vibration on the toy

wolf! dr ratio and fox! aventurine getting even more excited when they notice your fluffy tail twitching and your ears flopping down to the back of your head each them they play with the sensitive parts on your body

their animal instincts taking over when you promise to be good and listen to whatever they say, because you’re just too dumb to make any correct decisions for yourself! you just need two big men to make all your decisions for you, so you can turn off your brain when you’re with them! why think at all when they can do that for you?

“gotta teach you a lesson, isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

fox! aventurine’s grip on your hair tightens as he fucks your mouth, your throat constricting around the tip of his dick, while wolf! dr ratio pounds into your pussy from behind, the dildo in your ass not helping the situation. you’re so full that all you can do is whine around aventurine’s dick as you clench around wolf! dr ratio :(

“c’mon, use your words.” knowing full well you’re already fucked dumb and delirious! they just wanna tease you 😵‍💫