#lost in space 02

[muniimyg]

♡ 02: how you talk so sweet when you're doin' bad things

series m.list // taglist

note: ahh !!! thank u all for all the love with pt 1 :) drama begins in pt 3 !!! enj their good moments while it lasts (aka this pt) lmk what u think of their dynamic & if u have any predictions for whats to cum ;) HAHAH mwaaa

also !! happy birthday @jkslvsnella 🌟 thank u for always reading and loving my work 💛

warnings: mean!jk exposes oc (she's a virgin) ,, banter

//

the dim neon lights of the arcade cast a playful glow over the group as they gather by the bar. laughter and overlapping chatter fill the air, but jungkook’s eyes dart toward the entrance, scanning every face that walks in.

he blinks, trying to recenter himself.

why the fuck is he waiting for you?

“do you guys want to play a hoop shoot round?” yoongi suggests, leaning lazily against the counter. “loser buys the next round.”

the guys snicker but agree. without much discussion, they begin heading toward the games, but jungkook lingers behind, hesitating to speak.

there’s a weird feeling that stirs inside him.

he wants to stay and wait for you—wants everyone to stay and wait for you (though he knows how ridiculous that sounds).

his mouth opens, about to call them back, when—

“___!” jimin’s voice cuts through the noise. “over here! great timing!”

jungkook stiffens, tilting his head and clearing his throat as he notices you walking in.

you weave through the scattered crowd, waving casually to the group. your jacket hangs lazily off one shoulder, your hair is slightly windswept, and your lips are parted, like you’re already preparing some half-assed excuse.

“you’re late,” jungkook mutters, his tone sharp as you greet the others with warm hugs and him with a smug smile.

“no shit, mr. know-it-all,” you shoot back, rolling your eyes before awkwardly shifting closer to him for a quick, half-hearted hug.

he doesn’t even unfold his arms, patting your back stiffly—once, twice, three times.

“whatever.”

“didn’t know you took attendance. god, what don’t you do?”

“be late,” he quips, voice clipped.

you scoff, pulling away and swatting his chest. “nerdy of you, but whatever. we all have to accept our flaws one day. acknowledging them is the first step, or so they say.”

“it’s courtesy to show up on time,” he snaps, leaning casually against a nearby pinball machine. his eyes rake over you like he’s trying to solve a puzzle he’s losing patience for. “figured you’d get lost or trip over your own feet.”

“oh, bite me,” you retort, stepping closer and crossing your arms. “maybe find something better to do than waiting for me, hmm? something better to do than—”

before you can finish, a rowdy group stumbles toward the air hockey table behind you, shoving their way through the already cramped space.

jungkook moves without thinking, his hands firm on your waist as he pulls you aside and switches places with you.

“move,” he says bluntly, his grip barely lingering before he steps away again.

you freeze, your words dying in your throat. the touch—the casual way he did it, the way his hands fit so naturally—throws you off. your heart stutters for reasons you can’t quite name.

“what are you—”

“you’re in the way,” he interrupts, already back to leaning against the pinball machine like nothing happened.

“shit, jungkook,” you manage, trying to sound unaffected. “you can’t just move me like that. i almost thought you cared about me.”

“would you rather get knocked into the air hockey table?” he says flatly. “didn’t think so.”

you narrow your eyes at him, brushing past whatever just passed between you.

“fine,” you say with exaggerated calm, stepping away. “thank you… i guess.”

“what was that?”

“i said what i said.”

“say it again.”

“no.”

“don’t make me beg for something i deserve,” he groans, his tone a mix of mock irritation and teasing.

you roll your eyes. “sure… i’ll say it again—for the right price.”

“oh?” his brow lifts, and he’s already following after you. “how much are you charging these days?”

you turn back to glare at him, making a face as he smirks.

what you don’t see, what no one else notices, is how closely jungkook walks behind you as you move through the crowd. his hand hesitates near your waist again before he drops it, settling instead for angling his body, subtly shielding you from the chaos of the arcade.

it’s instinctive, unconscious—a quiet sort of care that he’d never admit to. but it’s just how jungkook is when you aren’t looking.

the air buzzes with the sounds of arcade games—buzzers, dings, and conversation on top of conversation. by now, the group has gravitated towards the hoop-shoot machines, their competitive banter echoing as they took turns missing shots.

when nam joon’s ball bounces dramatically off the rim, nearly taking out jimin, they all collapse into laughter.

"okay, okay!" taehyung claps his hands. "before anyone gets concussed, let's take a group photo!"

everyone gathers in front of the machines, huddling close together. you find yourself standing beside jungkook, his towering figure crowding your space as the guys shuffle to fit into the frame.

“move in,” jin calls out, holding up his phone. “no dead space.”

before you can step away, taehyung and yoongi each grab one of your shoulders, pushing you into jungkook’s side. his arm brushes yours, and when you glance up, he’s already rolling his eyes.

"stop squirming," he mutters.

"stop breathing down my neck," you bite back, earning a stifled laugh from yoongi.

“not my fault you’re short as fuck.”

“what about me do you not have a problem with, nerd?”

just as jungkook is about to tell you off, hobi hits his stomach and hisses at him. 

“shut the fuck up, smile, and—”

hobi bumps his hip with jungkook’s, causing him to lean closer to you. your head tilts and so does his. he clears his throat as he regains his balance. you continue to smile, pretending not to notice him looking at you. 

as the group poses, jin snaps several photos before pulling the phone down to review the shots. as everyone leans in to check the screen, a chorus of teasing begins.

"aw, look at that!" taehyung says, his grin spreading like wildfire as he leans closer to the phone screen. "this is a moment for the scrapbook. you two look so cute together."

the corner of jimin’s mouth twitches as he leans over taehyung’s shoulder, squinting at the photo before letting out a dramatic gasp.

“wait, is this… is this our it couple debuting right here? how did we miss this? it’s always those fucking enemies to lovers stories that hit… this could be it. oh my god!"

yoongi, not one to miss a beat, smirks from the side. 

“don't need to start. pretty sure the fanbase already exists.”

jin snorts. “don’t expose our late night conversations, bro. that’s our special bonding time.”

yoongi hisses at jin, smacking the back of his head for saying it so weird. 

"someone call dispatch," nam joon adds, cackling. "they're going viral as we speak."

"you’re joking,” you groan, face already warming as the guys snicker. “stop acting like it’s some movie poster. it’s just a group picture and—look at that! jungkook is looking at me like i’m stinky.”

“you are stinky.” jungkook scoffs.

you shove him playfully. “shut up.”

“oh no, it’s definitely poster-worthy,” jimin chimes in, nudging jungkook’s arm as he grins like a proud parent. "you can practically feel the sparks flying. jungkook’s over there pretending to hate it, but look at his hand. hovering like it’s meant to be."

"right?” hobi quips. “look at the way he’s leaning into her—”

jungkook glares. “hyung, you pushed me—”

“—bro’s living the rom-com life and doesn’t even know it.” hobi finishes. 

"yeah," yoongi deadpans, his lip curling in a mock-serious expression as he gestures vaguely at the photo. "what trope are you guys?”

"trope?" you snort, shooting a glance at Jungkook. “that’s going too far. i can’t be associated with him to that point. even angels like me have limits..”

"awh, don't ruin it," jimin teases. “you two look like you were made to stand next to each other. it’s fate, ___.”

"fate?" jungkook finally chimes in, his brow quirking as he scoffs. “more like bad luck. uglyass picture, by the way. jump-scare. trigger-warning. photoshop her out, please.”

his words are sharp, but the teasing rolls on, taehyung clapping jungkook on the back as he leans in closer. 

“don’t fight it, man. just admit it—you’re glowing.”

“you’re drunk.” jungkook grumbles, crossing his arms.

but even as he tries to brush it off, you catch the way his jaw ticks, the way his ears turn a faint shade of red. it almost makes you want to keep the teasing going.

almost.

you stretch over and take a proper look. 

your shoulders are pressed against jungkook’s, his hand awkwardly hovering near your back as if unsure where to put it. it’s ridiculous, but you decide to lean into the joke.

“awh,” you say, nudging him with a smirk. “wait. we do look cute together. look at you—nerdy boy finally getting close to the pretty girl. must be the highlight of your life.”

jungkook’s jaw tightens, and for a second, you think he might just let it slide. But then, his eyes narrow, and the smugness in his tone cuts deeper than you expect.

“yeah?” he says, his voice low and dripping with sarcasm. “because the pretty girl who’s still a virgin at twenty-four is such a catch, right? must be fun carrying the weight of no guy ever wanting that kind of pressure.”

the air stills.

“what?” jungkook asks, unsure of why everyone’s mood suddenly shifted. “guys, we don’t need to hold ___’s hand for this. her situationships aren’t real. no guy wants her and it’s because of all her fucking issues… so don’t tease me about shit like that. why would i want her? she’s too fucked up.”

your heart sinks as the laughter dies around you, the guys exchanging awkward glances. you force a tight smile, shrugging as if the jab didn’t just land in the worst way possible.

“ha… ha… yeah. sure. what he said,” you mutter, slipping out of the group without looking back.

you weave through the crowd, the din of the arcade becoming background noise to the rush of your thoughts. yoongi and nam joon sigh and excuse themselves to follow you. 

“fuck,” taehyung groans at jungkook. “for a nerd, you aren’t that smart."

jungkook throws his head back.

"okay, fine. i went too far."

taehyung forces a laugh and pats jungkook's shoulder. "i just... i don't why do you always shit the bed when it comes to ___. would it kill you consider her feelings once in a while?"

"she started it—"

"we started it," taehyung corrects him. "you fuck it up and then we have to fix it. why can't we start it and you figure it out?"

"what's there to figure out?"

taehyung sighs.

"seriously, what's there to figure out?" jungkook repeats, his voice rough with frustration, though there’s a slight tension in his jaw, as if he’s trying to keep himself in check.

taehyung runs a hand through his hair like he’s had this conversation a million times before. “you overthink everything, man. just… talk to her. it’s not that hard.”

jungkook scoffs. "i talk to her."

"yeah right," taehyung shoots back, now leaning in closer, his eyes narrowing with a mixture of concern and exasperation. "she isn't gonna stick around forever... especially with all the shit you pull. is it that hard to show that you care for her? even just a little bit? you can even fake it for all we care... just... stop doing this. stop fucking it up."

jungkook opens his mouth to retort, but then he just...

doesn’t.

he falls silent, his gaze drifting over to where you’re standing, still laughing with yoongi, oblivious to the conversation happening behind her. his expression softens for a moment, but the tension doesn’t fully leave his shoulders.

“... i don’t know what to say to her,” jungkook mutters after a long pause, his voice quieter this time, almost vulnerable.

taehyung rolls his eyes, his voice taking on a teasing edge again.

"i'm not asking you to be perfect," taehyung says, his tone suddenly serious. "i just want you to try.”

jungkook's eyes narrow, but he doesn’t argue.

he knows taehyung’s right.

and the idea of trying—really trying—is both terrifying and somehow comforting. it’s just a matter of taking the first step.

"alright, alright. i get it." jungkook sighs, running a hand through his hair. "but if i mess it up again…"

“you will,” taehyung says with a grin, smacking him on the back. “and when you do, we’ll be here to clean up your mess.”

jungkook groans. "great. thanks. god, you guys are impossible."

taehyung just laughs, clapping him on the shoulder.

"that’s what friends are for."

“that one’s cute,” you say softly, pointing to a pastel plushie trapped inside the glass case. “but aren’t these things rigged?” 

yoongi glances at the plushie, then back at you, offering a faint smile. “hello kitty? can’t you just buy it in store?”

“it’s different.”

“how so?”

“winning it is better. means more.”

he laughs at you. ruffling your hair, he asks; “think you can win it?”

“probably not,” you admit with a dry laugh, rubbing the back of your neck. “i suck at these things.”

unbeknownst to you, jungkook has followed, lingering a few steps behind. 

he watches quietly as you and yoongi chat, his arms folded across his chest, his usual cocky posture softened just enough to give off a more contemplative vibe. his gaze shifts to the hello kitty plushie you pointed out, taking in every detail—the soft pastel fabric, the little bow. 

his jaw tightens.

for a second, he looks almost… distant. something flickers across his face—a mix of regret, maybe? or determination? it’s hard to tell, and he’s quick to push the thought aside. he can’t figure out why this damn hello kitty plushie is bothering him, but it does.

his hands shift in his pockets, fingers brushing against the cool edges of his arcade card. the sound of you and yoongi laughing lightly as you move on to a different machine pulls him out of his trance. 

he’s still standing there, staring at the claw machine, his mind reeling.

get it together, he tells himself. it's a stupid fucking hello kitty plushie.

but as the two of you move further away, jungkook finds his feet taking him toward the claw machine. his body moves on its own, a subtle, almost unconscious determination settling into his posture. he steps up to the machine, his heart thumping a little louder than usual.

with a quick flick of his wrist, he taps the arcade card to the screen, paying for a round. The soft beep of the machine filling the air is oddly satisfying. he glances at the claw, watches it shift slightly in the plastic case, and his mind sharpens. the whole world narrows down to this one moment—the claw, the plushie, and the stupid, ridiculous thought that maybe, just maybe, it would mean something.

he leans in a little closer to the machine, his focus narrowing as his fingers hover just over the controls. his chest tightens, just a little.

but there’s something about this—about trying—that feels...

new.

almost like he's playing for something that’s not just a game.

as the arcade starts to empty out, the night comes to an end.

the group begins to break into separate plans. some were heading out for more drinks, the usual late-night crowd craving more chaos, while others, like you and jungkook, were heading home. yoongi, standing beside you both, clapped jungkook on the shoulder and offered a casual “see you later,” his eyes lingering a moment too long on the tension that still hung between you two.

by now, jungkook had tried to apologize multiple times throughout the night. too many times to count—but each time, you’d brushed him off, walking away before he could finish his words.

it was the same pattern that had played out earlier, with him following close behind, trying to make up for whatever had gone wrong, but you’d always managed to slip out of his reach, words left unsaid and apologies unacknowledged.

as you stepped outside into the crisp night air, the glow of neon signs casting faint colors over the sidewalk, you took a deep breath. the cool wind ruffled your hair, and you tucked a stray strand behind your ear, eyes darting to the ground, avoiding jungkook’s gaze.

“my hinge crush of the week wants to meet up… so, bye!” jimin called out, adjusting his jacket as he moved toward the waiting uber.

the others offered their farewells, the air filled with laughs and promises to meet again soon.

jungkook is quiet, his eyes still on you, a knot of frustration building in his stomach.

as you’re about to turn away, he finally speaks. his voice is soft but firm.

“can i drive you home?”

you don’t even look at him, a slight shake of your head as you took a step back.

“i’m good. thanks for the offer.”

he takes a slow step forward, determination flashing in his eyes.

“shit, ___. come on, don’t be like that. it’s late. i’m not letting you walk home alone.”

“i’m fine,” you reassure him again, taking another step away. “they’re all gone. you can stop pretending you care—w-whoa—“

but as you turn to leave, the way you step gets caught on a loose patch of pavement, and before you can stop yourself, you stumble forward. your heart lurches in your chest as your body lurches toward the ground. 

but a strong and steady hand grips your waist, pulling you back against a solid chest.

“fuck, watch your step—” jungkook mutters, his voice lower now, a hint of something you couldn’t quite place in it. his grip tightened just enough to keep you from stumbling again.

you freeze for a second, your breath catching as his fingers brushed against your side, his body warm against yours. the shock of his touch sent a strange shiver down your spine, but before you could react, his voice comes again, this time with a soft but unmistakable smirk.

“you’re all out of choices now.”

his words hang in the air as he takes your waist, gently but firmly guiding you toward his car. the playful edge in his voice made your stomach flip.

he doesn’t wait for a response.

he pulls you closer as you walk together. 

you want to pull away. 

you want to protest, but something about the way he holds you—steady, unwavering—makes it impossible to do anything but follow. 

so, you give in. 

you slide into the passenger seat of jungkook’s car, the leather cold against your legs as you settle in. the familiar scent of his cologne fills the small space, mixing with the faint scent of his car’s interior. before you can even close the door, jungkook is already moving to the driver’s side, slipping in next to you with practiced ease.

he turns the key, the engine rumbling to life, and immediately, he leans over to help you with your seatbelt. his hand brushes against yours, sending a strange flutter through your chest as his fingers fumble with the latch, and you try not to think too much about how gentle his touch is.

“thanks,” you mumble, turning your head toward the window, avoiding his gaze. 

the tension between you two still lingers, thick and heavy, but neither of you says anything, and soon the quiet hum of the engine fills the air instead.

the drive starts out like most others, the city lights blinking past the windows as jungkook takes a turn, his hands steady on the wheel. but then, as the cool night air seeps in through the slightly cracked window, you suddenly feel the chill of the evening air hit your skin, a shiver running down your spine.

you don’t even have to say anything. without a word, jungkook pulls off his jacket, glancing over at you. 

“you cold?” he asks, his voice low, almost concerned, but his eyes are still focused on the road.

before you can respond, his white jacket is draped over your shoulders like a blanket. 

it’s warm, soft—still holding the faint trace of his warmth—and for a moment, you find yourself frozen, not sure whether you should pull it off or accept the comfort. but it’s his gesture, the way he’s silently taking care of you, and the faint thought that maybe he’s not such an ass after all, that makes you just pull the jacket tighter around yourself, not saying anything.

the silence stretches on, with only the sound of his car’s engine and the soft tunes filling the air, low music that drowns out everything else.

it’s a little uncomfortable. 

a little too close. 

and yet, somehow, you don’t mind it.

minutes pass, and you can’t help but notice how the buildings are getting fewer, how the city streets are slipping behind, and suddenly, it hits you—he’s not turning into your neighborhood.

“wait,” you finally speak up, your voice sounding strangely foreign in the quiet car. “you just passed my place.”

he doesn’t even glance over at you, just keeps driving, his eyes focused on the road ahead. 

“i know.”

“then where are you going?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady, but a flicker of annoyance laces your tone. “jungkook, what the hell?”

“the only way for you to talk to me,” he says, his voice calm but with a touch of something else beneath it. 

something you can’t quite place.

“what?” you blink, confusion clouding your thoughts. “this is considered kidnapping.”

jungkook chuckles, the sound low and almost playful.

“only way for you to talk to me, like i said.”

you narrow your eyes at him, a mix of frustration and something else building inside you. 

“you’re seriously driving me around for what, exactly? to waste gas? to waste your time?”

“to wait for you.”

“oh my god,” you stress. “you and your fucking words.”

he smirks. “are they working?”

you gulp. 

“come on, ___. act like a bitch all night, i don’t care… but you’re gonna talk to me.”

you’re quiet for a moment, staring out the window, watching the city blur past. the absurdity of the situation sinks in, but it’s also hard to ignore the fact that you’re starting to feel a strange sense of... comfort in his presence.

“fine,” you finally say, voice quiet but sharp. “what do you want me to say, huh? you’ve been apologizing all night and i’ve been brushing you off. you said what you said. it’s done.”

jungkook shifts in his seat, and for the first time, you notice how his grip tightens on the wheel, how his jaw clenches ever so slightly. 

“keep talking.”

“i’m done.”

“no,” he insists. “i don’t care what you say… i just need you to talk to me, ___. that’s all.”

you don’t respond right away, not sure how to react to that admission, or if it’s even true. but the way his words hang in the air, the sincerity behind them, makes you want to crack open. 

makes you want to say something—anything—but the walls are still up.

“do you want me to fuck you or something?” 

your eyes widen and your throat goes dry. 

what the fuck did he just say?

“excuse me?” 

jungkook then pulls over, parking his car at some random street. his car lights and the lamppost nearby are the only light sources… but that doesn’t stop you from knowing how close he is to you. you don’t need much light—you feel it. you feel his presence. 

“is that why your panties are in a twist? you need dick or something? you’ve been acting weird since you overheard me fucking—”

“i don’t want to know her name.” 

jungkook blinks at you. 

“... so you are bothered by her.”

you pause. 

“n-no. no, i’m not. it’s just… weird. i don’t want to know because i don’t want to know.”

“okay,” jungkook nods. “can i know something then?”

you hesitate. 

“do you forgive me yet? i… i fucked up. i’m sorry, __. seriously. that wasn’t cool of me.” 

you take a breath in. 

“i forgive you,” you admit. “but be honest with me. did you mean it?”

jungkook shakes his head profusely. 

“no,” he confesses. “no, i didn’t mean it. i think it’s cute that you’re a virgin—”

“stop!” you cry, throwing your hands to cover your face. “shut up.”

he laughs, finding your panic a little cute. 

“what? you never get horny?” 

you drop your hands, completely dumbfounded at how this conversation has unfolded in a matter of minutes. 

“i do,” you tell him. 

“with what? with who?” 

you tilt your head and squint at him. 

“curious?”

“disgusted, actually.” he mocks you. 

you can’t help but let out a laugh.  

then, a silence falls upon you two. 

but… it’s an okay kind. the kind where you two aren’t mad at each other and everything is truly lighthearted. it’s a rare kind of atmosphere for you two share. 

the tension that had once been suffocating now feels more like a slow burn, simmering quietly in the space between you. it’s strange, this shift. but it’s also... comforting.

in a way, it’s like stepping onto solid ground after floating in the middle of an ocean for too long.

you glance over at jungkook, his profile soft in the dim light from the streetlamps. his fingers are gripping the steering wheel lightly, his knuckles slightly pale, like he’s trying to keep himself grounded too. he’s not saying anything, but his presence is loud. in some ways, that’s all you need. 

that he’s here. 

that you’re both here, together, after all the back and forth, all the words exchanged, the small cracks and the moments of silence.

the question comes out before you can stop it, and you almost want to take it back the second it leaves your mouth. 

but you’re already committed. 

"think i could do it?" you say, voice softer than you intended, more vulnerable than you meant.

jungkook shifts in his seat slightly, his eyes flicking toward you.

“do what?"

"get you to want me?"

for a split second, you think you’ve gone too far. 

jungkook is quiet for a long time, and you can feel the weight of his gaze on you. he doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. it’s like he’s weighing the question, figuring out if you mean it. if it’s just some fleeting thought, or if you’re really standing here, raw and honest, in the middle of it all.

and then he speaks, his voice low but steady, a hint of something in it that you can’t quite place.

“why would you want that?”

the question catches you off guard, and for a moment, you’re unsure of how to respond. but then you think about it, really think about it. 

"i don’t know."

the vulnerability is almost too much, too raw. 

it feels like every inch of you is laid bare, exposed in a way you weren’t sure you could handle. you stare at your hands, anything to avoid the intensity of his gaze, but it’s there, lingering in the quiet air between you. it fills the space, like you can feel every word left unsaid pressing against your chest.

jungkook doesn’t say anything right away, the silence stretching long enough that you start to wonder if maybe you said the wrong thing. maybe you pushed too far, too fast.

but then, he speaks.

"wanna find out?"

his voice is low, almost teasing, but there's something else there too—something that makes your heart skip a beat. 

you glance up at him, your eyes meeting his again, and you realize in that moment that this is where it all comes together. the question, the hesitation, the rawness of it all. 

he’s not pulling away, not like you expected.

he’s waiting…

for you.

[bitchimasnake-sss]

I need a part 2 to ‘meddle about’😩 I loveee your writing

i was literally about to go sleep rn but made a conscious decision to ignore the needs of my body to write horny filth <3

☆ into you!

part 02 to meddle about! // in which the younger itoshi loses all inhibitions. //

synopsis: who knew being involved with itoshi rin would be such a headache? now, about 10,000 km away from home, you realize that you're stuck with him in barcelona. as distances between you two grow greater, the only thing that brings you closer is an... aphrodisiac?! pairing: afab!reader x itoshi rin [aged up.] wc: 5.5k cw: NOT PROOFREAD. WRITTEN CAUSE I LOVE DESPERATE MEN. MDNI. includes: A LOTTT OF PLOTTT!! dom-ish!reader x bottom!rin. one-room only trope (hehehehehhe), aphrodisiac, guided handjob, praise (m!receiving), overstimulation (m!receiving), rin cries so, i guess dacryphilia(?). they're both gonna piss you off and you're gonna love it. guess starring: rin's COMMUNICATION ISSUES 🗣️🔊 m.list

it took you exactly 45 mins sitting next to rin itoshi in a closed-off airplane to decide that either he was the dumbest man alive or he needed a guided lesson to understand social cues. or maybe, just maybe, he was such an entitled prick that he could just simply ignore a fuming woman next to him for forty-five minutes straight without as much as a worry-line on his pristine forehead.

you had huffed and huffed, and then huffed some more by the time rin finally asked you a question. the question? "are you cold or something?"

"no?" your eyebrows bunched at his question. could he not see the blanket you had draped over your lap as you had cozied in the seat he had paid for?

"then why are you making so much noise?"

"oh?" you scoffed, "if it is this hard to be seated next to me, then please get off on the next layover and catch a flight back home."

his answer came before you could even finish, "no, i'm good."

and then again, the cycle of silence repeated itself by dragging itself along it's sickening pattern. rin flipped through a magazine, locked in as if there was nothing more enticing to him than the history of airplanes and their mechanism, all while you fumed in your seat.

it's not like you wanted to talk to rin itoshi or something!

it's just the principle of the situation that pissed you off beyond belief! here you two were, sitting next to each-other in a metal contraception that was hovering several hundred feet above ground to land you in another continent — a process that was going to take several hours. there was absolute silence — most people dozing off, reading or watching a movie by themselves while enjoying the finer things in life like champagne and caviar.

if there was any place in earth to sort out miscommunications, then this was probably the top of that list! and yet, that raven-haired man lost himself in the world of airplane mechanics. like, what even?!

again, it's not like you wanted rin itoshi to apologize to you or something!

it's just shouldn't he atleast bother after trying so hard that day? i mean, it's not like you missed the way his hands felt or the expensive, well-curated fragrance of his car whenever he picked you up or dropped you, or whatever lopsided, half-baked smile he gave you every once in a while. no, it was the principle of the situation that was bothering you!

you sighed and rin gave you a side-eye without even turning an inch to face you. he cleared his throat, another question at the tip of his stupid — albeit, very skilled — tongue, "do you want to drink?"

"no." you spit out, almost impressed at how good he was at being wrong, "obviously not." actually, right now, with a headache next to you, some wine sounded delightful. "actually— i mean, wine sounds nice."

rin pushed the button to call the airstaff and you let go of any of your restraints. you turned towards him, body leaning into his physical space as if you needed to examine him up-close for brain damage, "do you really not know what's bothering me?"

"no." rin admitted seriously and your eyebrows furrowed at how sincere he sounded. you repeated, "you don't?"

he shrugged and you found yourself muttering, "seriously? you don't?"

"no," he turned his face to look at you and deadpanned, "either tell me what's wrong or shut up and go to sleep."

the audacity! here you were trying to communicate with him while he thought you should 'go to sleep'??? he should go to hell!

"fine." you clenched you jaw, turning around to wait for your wine in peace. under your breath, you muttered, "sae would probably never act like this."

"what was that?"

you turned to the pro-player, eyes narrowed and tongue venomous, "i cannot wait to see sae play in real life."

"thanks to me, yes." rin shrugged, "and his play isn't that impressive. the media just happens to make any lukewarm bullshit look good on tele."

"th-thanks to you?!" you spluttered, still not moving on from the first half of his statement, "i'm sorry but did i not refuse to come and you begged me—"

"—beg is a strong word."

"you begged me to come, rin itoshi." you bit back and rin turned to you with his own eyes narrowed, "i didn't beg you, i just didn't want you to think i took advantage of you."

"you literally, literally left me laying on the couch while you ran off to the bathroom for god-knows-what reasons!" you ranted, leaning in till your noses were inches apart and you two were all up in each other's business, "and then, next morning you left me all alone in your stupid penthouse—"

"i left you a text and food?" now it was rin's turn to act confuse. he inched forward daringly and the tips of your noses collided. eyes against yours in a heated dance, he hissed, "and i drew you a bath which you never even took."

"hah?" you scoffed, not pulling back lest he thinks he has won the competition against you, "that explains leaving me after we were done?"

"i rushed to the bathroom bec—" and then for the first time in his adult life, rin itoshi froze. because, tell me, how in god's name was he supposed to admit that just one look at your flushed, post-orgasm face had him spilling into his sweats as if puberty had hit him yesterday? just one split-second look away from your pretty pussy to your ruined face was enough for his to lose all physical restraint over his well-trained body? how could he let you see that, or even hear about it? it was embarrassing. worse, it was ego-threatening.

how was rin itoshi supposed to admit that he couldn't help but feel all types of things whenever you were around?

so, instead, he bit his tongue and made up an excuse — a bad one, but an excuse nonetheless, "i rushed because i remembered something."

"in the bathroom?" you repeated slowly and he nodded, hoping that the warmth of his cheeks wasn't on display.

"i— remembered that i needed to take a shower."

"immediately afterwards?"

"yes, sweat makes me feel gross." he nodded again, averting his gaze from you, "it's just one of those things."

"oh my god, you're such a fucking prick!" now, maybe those aren't the words you should be saying to the man who was paying for your flight to see your favourite player but he did just admit that he left you alone to take a stupid shower.

you two were only interrupted by the air-hostess bringing you a much-needed glass of wine. for the next nine hours till your next layover, you didn't even bother glancing at rin itoshi's stupid face.

but as you sat in silence, you realized that the upcoming days were going to be nice, atleast. you had planned an entire cozy itinerary without rin itoshi to meddle in your business, infact. the plan was simple: were going to land the next evening, and would probably stay-in that night to recover from the jet lag. the next morning you planned to visit some local areas, cafes, and such. and the third day was sae's match. then, you'd catch the flight home! fun!

so, you took in a deep breath, reminding yourself that it was only a matter of hours before you could get rid of rin. until then, all you had to do was ignore him. correct!

it was only after you had landed in barcelona that you interacted with rin — not too much though, only to thank him for the tickets and to avail you a taxi since he claimed he knew enough spanish to get around.

"what?" the pro-player cocked an eyebrow, dialing some number on his phone, "we're going to the hotel together, why do you need another taxi?"

"you paid for my hotel room?" your eyes widened, your grip on reality seemingly slipping as you realized that rin itoshi probably wouldn't book some cheap, 3rd-class hotel.

"yes?" he answered just as nonchalantly before answering the phone and sprouting out some spanish.

and there go your cozy vacation plans down the drain!

"you—" you were tongue-tied, so catastrophically shocked that you weren't even sure of what was happening and what wasn't, "why would you do that?!"

"well?" rin covered his phone half-heartedly, looking at you as if you were the one who had gone mad, "did you think i would just bring you here and leave you as it is?"

you stepped closer to him, voice hushed so as to not cause a scene at the airport, "i don't need more favours that you. i told you that."

"don't worry." rin muted the call with a quick swipe, "i am not gonna ask for any favours in return. this one's on me..." you almost missed the next few words, "cause i've been a prick lately."

you're not quite sure how it happened or why, but here you stood at the reception of a seven-star hotel while rin held a heated discussion with the staff in a foreign language.

many minutes passed by, following which the pro-player finally came walking back to you. his face fell, "they're saying they only have one room free."

"what?"

"i swear i booked two. i'm not playing around with you." you heard a mild panic in his otherwise cool tone and you held a palm up, "it's good — a sign from the universe! i should probably go, anyways. i'll find an accommadati—"

"no." rin was fierce. his face dipped lower, hot breath fanning across your face as he repeated, "you're not doing anything stupid like that. if anyone has to go, i will. you stay here."

"rin." you tried to argue but the receptionist called rin back for some reason. the next time rin came back to you, he was sickeningly pale.

"what did they say? someone has to go, right. i will—"

"—uh," the man looked at the polished marble underneath, his lower lashes so prominent as he closed his eyes, "they actually, kinda upgraded us to a honeymoon suite."

huh? honestly, this wasn't the weirdest thing that had happened to you this month. what's next? you're gonna go to the room and find a stack of condoms and a invitation for you two to fuc—

"—k me." you spoke aloud as soon as you entered the room. not only was it thrice the size of your studio apartment, and had a private pool in the balcony, but on the bed lay a stack of condoms, chocolates, cliche rose petals and an classy envelope with MR. AND MRS. ITOSHI printed on it.

rin picked the card up, opened it up and immediately went beet-red. you wouldn't be surprised if the card read "have a good time fucking!"

"i- i'll take the couch." rin stuffed the card deep into the pocket of his pants, ignoring the climbing warmth that painted his pale face uncharacteristically scarlet, "you take the bed."

"don't be ridiculous. i'm not taking the bed."

"there's no point arguing." he averted his gaze skillfully, hoping that the pink dusting his cheeks was not visible to you, "i... i'll take the couch. meanwhile, you can go wash up."

well, to be fair even the couches here looked better than your home couch but again, it was about the principle of the situation!

barcelona, day 01. evening.

truly, there was no point arguing with the rin itoshi because now, here you were ten minutes later, clearing the bed and throwing the chocolates and flavoured condoms in the side-drawer, never to be used by you two.

once done, you laid your clothes out and made your way to the shower. your footsteps were soft pitter-patters against the delicate rug and rin glanced back from the couch.

"shower?" he asked, and you nodded. at your curt answer, he pressed his lips into a thin line, "if you need something, call my name. i'll come."

you had slipped in the bathroom with nothing more than a soft nod to acknowledge him because... let's be real, why would you need him while showering? he could rest assured that there would no shenanigans happening on your end.

but now as the soft, luxurious soapsuds lapped against your skin so gently, the warm water of the tub slowly growing cold and leaving you devoid of any warmth in it's wake, you considered calling rin in.

closing your eyes, a dark, familiar curtain fell in front of your eyes and you tipped your head upwards. chewing on your bottom lip, you were divided whether the deal you and rin had once struck up still stood? and in that case, did you owe him something since he was responsible for your accommodation for the next three days here. but then again, he did act like a prick and maybe it was his way of making it up to you. but then again, he didn't act as much of a prick to repent by keeping you in a fucking seven-star residence.

you brought your hands over your face, the skin growing colder ever so slowly under the cruel stretch of time you were subjecting yourself to. then, some sort of peace washed over you. you dragged your hands down your skin, looking at the wooden door to the bathroom.

something clicked.

maybe, maybe this decision wasn't for you to take? maybe rin itoshi was the one who was supposed to decide if he wanted you or not?

"rin!" you called out, finally.

the doorknob turned almost immediately and you half-heartedly wondered if he had been standing at the edge, waiting for the echo of his name past your lips. of course not. but it was fun to imagine that rin itoshi wanted you so desperately.

on the other side, rin had been standing at the doorstep, listening to the soft cascades and waves of water as you took your sweet time in there. okay, maybe it was a bit pathetic for a pro-player like him to stand at the edge of a door waiting to be summoned but it's not like you'd ever know, right? right?

but as soon as he heard the shout of his name, his fingers found the cold metal and he stepped inside — and there you were. you had drawn up a flimsy towel to cover up your soaking body, soapsuds still clinging helplessly onto your legs as you stood at the edge of the humongous bathtub.

"ye-yeah?" rin commanded his attention to focus on the bathtub and not you. because if he looked at your soaked skin and hair, your perked buds against the soft fabric of the towel and the slightly rosy tint of your cheeks — rin was convinced he would either go insane from the idea or never having you again or do something that'll break the promise of being strangers.

"i, uh—" your gaze ran it's course from him to the vacant bathtub. a lone sweat droplet traveled down the ridge of your spine and you blamed the hotness of the enclosed bathroom for it. voice unsure, you asked, "i wanted to heat the water up. it got cold, so..."

"uhm," rin swallowed, brushing past you to look at the array of smaller buttons at the edge of the bathtub.

"this one." he pointed to a button which had hot written on it. "just press it till the temperature is to your liking."

"oh?" you leaned in, staring at the button next to him, "right." a nervous laugh rang out in that closed, hot room, "i don-don't know how in the world did i miss that."

rin turned around, avoiding to look at you, "s'okay."

you were so close that he could smell the fragrance of the expensive bath gel on your skin. the smell went straight to his head, intoxicating him and making him stutter in his usually confident demeanor. he wondered if he reached out and played with the wet strands of your hair, will you push his hand back or slap him?

but rin itoshi wasn't looking for the answer to that question, so he just asked, "anything else?"

you shook your head with a soft no.

"okay, then." rin took hurried step towards the door, never once looking back to you, "and hurry up, i- uh, i gotta wash up too."

"o-okay?"

he shut the door behind him with a surprisingly loud thud! and now, you stood in the previously occupied bathroom with a confirmed answer: rin itoshi did not want you. like... at all.

that's what his cold demeanor had told you, atleast. he had not even bothered to give you a look that lasted more than a spilt-second and then promptly left as soon as he felt it fitting. you sunk back into the cold water, half-annoyed at yourself for calling him and half-annoyed at him for being so fucking closed-off.

for the rest of the day, you both had minimal contact. he didn't bother you with questions, and you didn't annoy him with answers. rin was busy on his laptop, attending team meetings and answering sponsors about his sudden getaway to spain while you just sat on the bed, doomscrolling the rest of the evening away. somehow, within your silences, you both had found a comfortable pattern to just be.

that was until dinner.

"you're not going to bed?" you tried to ask, patting the pillows to fluff them up to your liking.

"no," rin didn't bother looking back from where he sat on the couch. a glass of wine pinched between his fingers, a monotonous expression on his pretty face, "i have some work to finish up. are you? going to sleep... i mean?"

"yeah." you nodded and a silence fell across the room. within the thick fog of silence, you could almost tell apart the strumming of your own heart. moments turned eternal and you held your bated breath for some kind of acknowledgement from him. when none came, you spoke up again, "are you sure you'd be okay on the couch?"

"mhm. don't worry."

"okay then," you pursed your lips, laying down on the godawfully soft mattress, "see you tomorrow... goodnight."

"g'night." he finally breathed out and you're not quite sure when exactly you fell asleep on the silken sheets, but you were awoken by the sound of someone showering once the sky was bright and clear.

barcelona, day 02.

rin didn't say anything to you as he walked out of the shower with his hair wet, nor did you say anything to him as you got ready for a day of tourist activities. he told you he was gonna stay in, said he had sponsor meetings and you bid him goodbye as you went out to see the place around. the day passed by in a blur of tourist activities and kind strangers, away from rin itoshi.

when you came back, he didn't ask you formal questions about how your day was, and you didn't tell him polite answers. you two stayed stuck in your cycle of silence. that was all.

that was all until it was far too late into the night, at least.

you stepped out of the shower, far gone to care about his presence in the room. it was clear that he held no desire for you, so you waltzing out of steaming shower with nothing but a robe was probably child's play to him.

hair wet, face flushed, you found your gaze drifting to the couch only to notice the absence of rin. eyebrows marrying, your gaze scanned the entire room carefully — from the empty couch to the dark balcony to finally, the least probable place: your bed.

and surprisingly, that's where you found him; face flushed, palms sweaty and limbs shaking as he met your eyes. what?

"rin?" instinct took ahold of you, steps rushing to reach the man who looked clearly unwell. you brought a steady palm up to his forehead, checking his temperature. your eyes locked against his dilated ones, words shivering under the intensity, "d-did something happen?"

"i—" rin almost gasped as you put your palm on his neck next to check for the temperature. voice growing gruff, he looked away, "'m fine. i jus' kinda feel— i feel weird."

"weird?" your brows bunched as you trailed a soft palm up to his cheek, and rin shivered under you. "weird how?"

"i dunno." his voice seemed to turn hoarser, as if it had gotten harder to speak with each wayward touch you planted across his scorching skin, "i- i ate their stupid chocolates and—"

"—what?"

"the ones you put in the..." he pointed to the side-table, "there."

you rushed to the side-table, clumsy fingers pulling out the heart-shaped chocolates only to turn them around to read if they said something. and oh boy, was there something they said. aphro—

"—odisiac." you breathed out the word, shaky vision travelling back to the pro-player who seemed to grow tenser and tenser with each passing second.

"rin," you called out carefully, taking a step towards him, "how many of these did you have?"

"th-ree, no, four."

"seriously?!" your voice squeaked, body turning towards him fully to take notice of the sweat beading at his forehead, the sheen plastered across the bridge of his nose and the apples of his cheek, his labored breathing.

he pulled at the collar of his t-shirt, trying desperately to dissipate the heat that his body seemed to torture him with "i feel hot, and—" rubbing his palms down against his sweats, he looked up at you, utterly helpless. "—what's happening to me? i- don't—"

"it's okay, it's okay." you cut him off, "take off your shirt."

rin followed your command blindly. nimble fingers pinched the ends of his t-shirt only to pull it off himself as fast as he could. underneath the material, his chest was flushed red to match his face.

"d-does it feel any better?" and rin groaned at your stupid question, "no."

the man shifted his pelvis, trying to pull at the waistband of his sweats when your gaze finally traveled to the tent in his pants. he looked pained, eyes frenzied and breath stuttering as he tried to figure out a position where his aching dick didn't drive him insane.

you stepped closer, and closer, and closer till you were standing a mere inches away from him. a finger under his sharp jaw, you pulled his face upwards to meet yours. a slow breath, "rin."

and he almost whimpered at the way you held him still, "y-yeah?"

"let me help."

at his feverish nods, you sunk to your knees. practiced hands tugged at his waistband and he complied all-too-excitedly to lift his hips up and free his cock of this endless torture.

his muscles visibly relaxed at your slow breathing against his heated tip — reddened, it oozed pre out that cascaded down his shaft. rin threw his head back, wet hair sticking to his nape as you placed a carefully calculated kiss to the tip. your tongue carefully pressed against his slit as you sucked on the tip and rin all but combusted.

"a-ah," his deep voice pitched up, hips squirming as you toyed with him, "fuck, fuck fuuhck—"

your hand pulled his towards his cock and he looked down at you, confused, "what..?"

your eyes stayed locked against him as you placed his own hand on the bottom half of his erection, hollowed cheeks still sucking on the tip. your hand encompassing his own, you guided him to slowly stroke himself as you kept toying with his flushed tip.

"fuck-ing god." rin breathed and for once, he didn't avert his gaze from you. your heated hold over his hand prompted him to pump himself faster. and although, his own touch was familiar, the way you looked up at him — all doe-eyes and sinful kisses — made his thighs shake.

"god—" his voice choked, head thrown back and eyes clenching shut in an effort to not cry at the way your tongue played against his silt, how your hand squeezed his, urging him, begging him to go on.

you let go of his tip only to pull his face downwards to look at you, "look at me. stop fuckin' running away."

and this time, a whimper did escape him at your words. lips wobbling, eyebrows bunched and lashline heavy with unresolved tears — rin itoshi was fuckin' beautiful as he stared down at you.

you pressed another kiss to the tip and his hand sped up under your command until— splash! his toes curled, body leaning back as his voice shook with desperate moans, and thick, white ribbons of cum painted his hand and your lips in a wretched pearlish glow.

rin huffed, eyes blown wide at the view of his essence on your lips and the way you seemed to pursue his taste with your tongue— cleaning him up so carefully that it made him hard all over again. shit.

a sudden strong hold on your arms pulled you upto him and his jittery fingers pulled at the belt of your robe to have you all to himself. as he tried to undo the knot with his shaky fingers, you raked a hand through his wet hair, travelling backwards till your palm was cradling the back of his head ever-so-softly.

and then, you pulled at the base of his strands and rin whined in response. the lewd sounds accompanied the driveling of his hips into the cold air, and with each strained rut, more of his cum oozed down his abused cock.

"fuck, rin." it was your turn to whimper, now. eyes blown and face heated, you looked between the man and his erect, throbbing, filthy cock. who knew rin itoshi could be so fucking messy?

eyes clenched, lips agape and breath stolen — rin itoshi was rendered useless and you pushed him backwards into the bed before disrobing yourself.

your naked body climbing over his, you pumped his overstimulated cock with a languid pace, using his own essence as a lubricant for his own undoing.

"fuck." his eyes stayed clenched, forehead drawn into lines as his body responded to each one of your endlessly torturous acts. he gasped as you kissed his neck, his jawline and then, his shoulder.

"you're doin' so well, rin." your voice was soft against his heated skin, and you kissed his jaw again, sucking slow enough for him to lose his mind. then, you repeated, "so fucking well."

and that seemed to be rin itoshi's kryptonite.

words pitched, moans obscene and muscles spasming under your touch, rin came again. and again, and again, and fucking again as you kept toying with him.

now, you're weren't sure if it were only a few minutes since he first came or hours, but as you tugged at his sensitive cock with the sensual drags of your palm, rin actually cried out.

"n-no more." more tears welled up in his eyes, cheeks so deeply flushed as he begged you, "p-please, i can't. i can't."

"you can, baby." you cooed, pressing your thighs together as his desperate pleas went straight to your throbbing cunt. ignoring your own swiveling desire, you pushed the man who once stood so tall to his limits.

"no, no." his hips jerked as you continued to drag your hands along his cock. teeth biting down into his bottom lips, tears fell down the plane of his face. clammy palms clenched and unclenched the silken sheets below as rin barely tried to stop his steady decline into deliriousness, "ple-please. i really can't."

"fine." you purred, hands coming to a slow halt against his heated erection, "i'll stop."

and just as you pulled your hands back to yourself, rin's wet eyes widened. despite his aching bones and jelly-like muscles, the man lunged forward to catch your wrist in his fingers.

"no," he breathed, eyes watering at the sudden lack of skin-on-skin contact. he repeated, this time with a bit of force in his voice, "no."

leaning forward, you caught his kissbitten lips against yours. cutting the kiss short, your words were soft against his, "you want it?"

and he nodded again, tongue rendered useless with how heavy it felt in his mouth. you drew a careful hand up his heated thighs, and he trembled under your touch, "say it out loud for me."

"yes." rin shook his head.

your lips trailed down to his jaw, featherlike kisses across his heated skin as your hand sped up yet again in that cruel, familiar pattern. his orgasm built like a crescendo, peaking higher and higher till he was shooting blanks.

when he was all spent out, rin itoshi shuddered and slumped against your arms. breath uneven, hair matted, skin sweaty, fiery and dusted pink as it made contact against your skin.

he looked up at you, half-lidded gaze still haunted by remnants of tears that clung onto his lashes. as if on instinct, you pressed a kiss to his forehead, soothing the searing skin under with your soft act. rin closed his eyes at the closeness, a gasp at the tip of his tongue because all of it felt so foreign.

he wasn't in control of his body — his trusty muscles felt lead-like, head hammering as if his brain would break-though his cranium, and heart thumping out a rhythm that sounded awfully like chants of your name. it was clear, rin itoshi didn't quite feel like himself as you cradled him so softly in your arms.

"you okay?" you asked far too softly, half worried that the wind will catch your words before it reached him. but to your surprise, rin nodded.

"i'll clean you up." you muttered, peripheral vision dragging along the sheets to see what a mess you two had made. his thighs and abs were painted white similarly to your hand, the fluid dripped down to the expensive sheets and stained them. you nodded with resolve, "rest up, i'll be done soon. yeah?"

a heavy croak stopped you. rin looked up at you, voice heavy and eyes watery as if one misstep and he would find himself losing control, "don't go."

maybe it was the finality in his voice that confused you, or the fact that he wanted you around. eitherways, you refuted with a soft shake of your head, "i- i really should, we've made a mes—"

"—don't go."

and so, you didn't. you let your body slump against the bedframe, scorched back against the cool wood and rin rested his cheek against your stomach, his arms pressed against your waist in an innocent hug. you raked your fingers through his sweaty hair before trailing them downwards to massage his nape and weary shoulders. his breath slowed down under your delicate touches and soon enough, he was asleep.

your hands stayed kneading at his muscles, gaze locked in at the man and the shallow rise and fall of his chest. with each soft inhale, the deep blush slowly eased away from his face, leaving behind the same stoic man you had known for a few weeks.

in this silence, you were starkly aware of two routes this relationship arrangement may go: 1) the most probable one: once the pro-player came to his senses, he will regret this — all that came before this, all that may come after this, you — and go no-contact. 2) the least probable one: he'd sit down and have a conversation with you, and then you both could figure out where things would go from here.

knowing rin itoshi though, you mentally prepared yourself for never seeing him again once this trip was over. it wouldn't be hard, obviously. how long did you even know the man? a few weeks, give or take. why would you mourn his presence when you never even quite had him?

you closed your eyes, fingers still softly playing with his tresses. you knew what was to come, knew that this was probably the end of him and you (or whatever it was between him and you), knew that him and you were just a series of favours for favours. and yet, your heart sank as you stared at his face for a moment too long.

rin itoshi was driving you insane!!

but however perceptive you may be, or however properly you think you knew rin — you miscalculated.

because neither did the man take the route of leaving you, nor did he talk things out with you. instead, here you were pinned against the wall in the supply closet. the supply closet of the very same stadium sae itoshi was playing at while rin stared down at you.

"a favour for a favour." he husked, "let me pay you back for last night."

rin itoshi was driving you insane.

a/n: love how i make everything into a three-part series :/ anyways, hope this was a fun enough read. i love men who are so emotionally unwell that it is borderline hilarious. what does that say about me? idk, nor do i wanna find out :) tagging: @ionlyhearnct @mortallyshadysoul @mindfulsreposts @mikaru0 @slutforitoshi @keiitamaa @loonalockley @ouraniaslyre @froggie-zusya23 @levcn @mimi-in-heaven i hope this was satisfying <3

[kookiewithluv]

ASHES OF A PROMISE

• TITLE: ASHES OF A PROMISE

• PAIRING: Lycan king!Jungkook x Werewolf!Reader

•WORD COUNT: 15.3k

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

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

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

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

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

PROLOGUE MASTERLIST 02

CHAPTER 1: THE MATE'S LAMENT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Patricia…” you repeated softly. She smiled wider, pleased with your response.

“Well, Luna,” she said, stepping back toward the door, “I’ll leave you now. You should rest.” Her eyes lingered on you for a moment longer, as if she wanted to say more but thought better of it. She turned to leave, but you couldn’t help yourself.

“Are you heading back to the gathering?” you asked, your voice catching just slightly as you remembered the night’s events.

Patricia paused, glancing over her shoulder. “No, it’s over.”

“Over?” you frowned. “But wasn’t it important?”

She shrugged, her tone light, dismissive. “Not really.”

Her casual response left you with more questions than answers, but before you could say anything else, Patricia moved toward the door, and the only sound that escaped your lips was a quiet, “Oh.”

Patricia’s voice broke through your thoughts, snapping you back to the moment. “Please excuse me, Luna. My mate must be waiting for me,” she said gently, her voice tinged with warmth as she spoke of her mate.

You nodded, not trusting your voice, and watched her leave, the soft click of the door sealing you in the quiet room. Alone.

You slowly made your way to the bed, your body heavy with exhaustion. Just as you were about to lie down, you paused, realizing you didn’t have anything comfortable to wear for the night. The realization hit you like a dull thud in your chest—Patricia had taken care of everything, yet this one detail, your clothes, had been forgotten.

You let out a long, tired breath, shoulders slumping as you gave in. "What could I have done, anyway?" you muttered to yourself. There wasn’t much choice left now. You flopped onto the bed, the mattress soft beneath your weight, cradling your tired body.

The room was bathed in a soft silver glow, the moonlight filtering through the open window. Its light danced gently on the floor, casting a peaceful glow over the room as you reached over to turn off the switch. The curtains fluttered, brushing softly against the windowsill, swaying with the rhythm of the cold night breeze. Each gust sent a shiver through the room, a subtle reminder of the world outside, yet it felt so far from where you lay.

You stared out of the window, eyes tracing the outline of the moon hanging bright in the dark sky. It was beautiful, breathtaking even, but your mind was elsewhere. Too much had happened in the past few hours, too many changes for you to grasp. Your life had flipped upside down in the blink of an eye, and you still didn’t know if it was for better or worse.

Your chest tightened with the weight of everything—the uncertainty, the confusion, the aching loneliness that sat heavy inside you like a stone. The whirlwind of thoughts swirled in your mind, twisting and turning, never settling long enough for you to catch your breath.

You didn’t even realize when your eyelids began to droop, when the tiredness finally pulled you under. Your last thought, tangled and blurry, was of him—of the cold distance between you, of the things left unsaid. And then, sleep claimed you, taking you away from the chaos, if only for a little while.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

“Luna,” a soft, melodic voice broke through the fog of your deep sleep, coaxing you gently. You stirred, rolling to your side, trying to escape the harsh sunlight now streaming through the windows and landing directly on your face.

“Luna, wake up,” the voice came again, more insistent. You groaned, forcing your eyes open, blinking against the light. Patricia was standing beside your bed, crouched slightly, shielding you from the sun with her body. Her lips curved into a smile when she saw you stirring, and she backed away as you groggily sat up, rubbing your eyes.

The groan in your throat grew louder as you tried to shake off the heavy weight of sleep, your body protesting. "What time is it?" you muttered, rubbing at your face, a wide yawn slipping out before you could stop it.

“Seven,” Patricia replied, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion as a giggle escaped her. She didn’t seem to understand why you were asking.

“Seven?” you repeated, eyes widening. “It’s so early!” you whined, dragging out the words as you slumped back against the headboard.

Patricia’s eyes went wide in shock, her mouth hanging open as if you had said something utterly ridiculous. “What?” she nearly yelled, making you flinch. Realizing she’d startled you, she quickly apologized. “You must be teasing me,” she said, her voice softer now, though still filled with disbelief.

You raised an eyebrow, genuinely confused. “Why would I do that? Why are you so shocked?” you asked, slowly crawling out of bed, stretching your stiff limbs as you yawned again.

“Luna, it’s past seven, actually,” Patricia said, her tone matter-of-fact as she crossed her arms. “Everyone here wakes up at four!”

Your mouth fell open, and you froze mid-stretch. “Four?” you repeated, staring at her as if she had just said something in another language. "You're joking, right?"

She shook her head, her eyes wide with sincerity, clearly baffled by your reaction. You stood there, at a loss for words, trying to process the absurdity of it all. Four in the morning? That was barely even night!

“Why?” was all you could manage to ask, your mind racing with disbelief. You wanted to scream, “What the hell do you guys do at four in the morning?”

“It’s just how it is here,” Patricia replied, her voice calm now, though her eyes were still fixed on you with a hint of curiosity, as if trying to understand your reaction. “Just bath and get ready. His Majesty wants to meet you.”

“Me?” You pointed incredulously at yourself, your index finger hovering in the air as disbelief washed over you. Why would he want to see you, especially after everything that had happened last night? A cold sensation crept through your bones, traveling up your spine. You took a shaky breath as your wolf stirred at the back of your mind, sensing the mere thought of your mate. She hadn’t spoken to you since last night, and you had been too wrapped up in grief to even consider reaching out.

“Yes. I also brought you some clothes.” Patricia gestured to the edge of the bed, where a beautiful red satin dress lay. You nodded silently, trying to calm the swirl of emotions in your chest. As you took two hesitant steps toward the bathroom, you froze, suddenly unsure.

Patricia seemed to read your thoughts. She pointed to a door on the left side of the room, and you nodded gratefully, giving her a small smile before darting inside.

The bathroom was nothing short of breathtaking, with marble tiles and a large shower that seemed to beckon you. You didn’t have time to admire it, though. You quickly turned on the shower, letting the water warm up as you glanced at your reflection. Your heart raced, knowing you needed to hurry.

As the water cascaded over you, you joked aloud, “If I bathe any faster, I might just become a fish!” You scrubbed yourself quickly, wishing you had more time to enjoy the luxury, but the thought of Jungkook waiting propelled you forward. “Okay, speed bathing, world record, here I come!” you teased, rinsing off and turning off the shower in a rush.

With a swift motion, you slipped into the red dress. It hugged your figure perfectly, accentuating curves you didn’t know you had, the fabric silky against your skin. You spun around, admiring your reflection for a brief moment before your thoughts turned back to the meeting. You took a deep breath and stepped out of the bathroom.

“Luna, we’re already late!” Patricia knocked impatiently on the door, her voice pulling you from your trance. The aroma of food wafted through the air, wrapping around you like a comforting blanket, but it felt too early for you to consider eating.

“Luna, here, have something before we leave,” she urged, holding out a plate as you emerged.

“I’m not really hungry,” you replied, shaking your head slightly, feeling your stomach churn in nervous anticipation. Patricia’s gaze narrowed slightly as she assessed you for a moment, then she took your hand gently, guiding you to sit on the edge of the bed.

"I suggest you eat. Believe me, you'll need it," she said, her tone firm, emphasizing the word need. Although hunger wasn't gnawing at your stomach, her earnestness made you feel the weight of her words. You quickly found yourself nibbling on whatever was piling up on your plate, each bite more rushed than the last, as if the food would somehow fortify you for what lay ahead.

After you gobbled down the last bite, you shot up from the bed, the urgency in her demeanor making your heart race. Patricia had gone from bouncing on her tippy toes to sitting next to you, fidgeting with her fingers in her lap, her nervous obvious. You felt her eyes on you, a silent request pushing you to eat faster without her saying a word.

“Let’s go,” you finally said, your voice steady despite the nerves bubbling in your stomach. She nodded vigorously, her eyes brightening as she stood and led the way out of the room.

“Where are we really going?” you asked, your curiosity piqued.

“To your his majesty's study room,” she stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. You could only blink in her as she sprinted down the hall. You followed her, feeling a bit like a lost child trying to keep up with an overly eager parent.

“Luna, please walk beside me, not behind me,” Patricia said, glancing over her shoulder, her voice tinged with silent frustration. You noted how her fingers twisted together, betraying her emotions.

You quickened your pace, taking two long strides to match her side, a faint smile tugging at your lips as you caught up. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to lag behind,” you said, trying to lighten the mood, though a small part of you understood her worry and frustration.

Soon, you found yourself standing in front of a closed door, a chill of apprehension creeping down your spine. Patricia halted, taking a deep breath that seemed to stretch in the air, oppressively. You watched her knuckles turn white as she knocked, each rap echoing through the silence.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

A gruff voice came from behind the door, “Come in.” As she pushed the door open, she gestured for you to enter first. You hesitated for a moment, your heart racing in your chest, then nodded and stepped inside.

As you crossed the threshold, the moment felt surreal. Your wolf stirred at the sound of his voice, an unsettling mix of yearning and pain washing over you, but the overwhelming grief she carried held her back. The room was dimly lit, casting shadows that danced around the edges, but your focus was solely on him. Jungkook sat behind a massive desk, his dark eyes locking onto yours the instant you entered. They seemed to deepen, filled with an intensity that made your stomach drop, and a cold, menacing smirk crept across his softly thin lips.

You felt your heartbeat quicken as you approached him, each step a battle against the swirl of emotions inside you. His brow arched as you stood before his desk, a silent provocation hanging between you. The weight of his gaze bore down on you, and you had to fight the urge to bare your neck to him.

From your left, you caught a glimpse of Patricia standing close to Neil, their heads bent together as they whispered something to each other. Neil gazed at her with an expression that made your heart ache—adoration shimmering in his eyes. Their fingers intertwined behind their backs, a quiet intimacy that made your chest tighten. You couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy, for the warmth of shared affection, and it tugged painfully at your heartstrings. You wanted that too.

With a determined look, you turned back to Jungkook, narrowing your eyes in defiance. He was still watching you, a predator relishing the hunt, and his smile widened at your glare. His lips stretched slightly before he caught himself, the playful facade melting into a serious demeanor. You noticed the way his jaw tightened, the flicker of something mingling with intrigue in his gaze.

"What urgent business made Your Majesty summon me here?" you shot back, your tone dripping with sarcasm. The taunt in your voice hung in the air like an electric charge, sparking a reaction in him. His expression shifted, a flash of irritation crossing his face as he absorbed your words, but he quickly masked it.

“I appreciate your time. There’s an important matter I wish to discuss with you—one that requires your attention.” His tone was unnervingly calm, as if your irritation were merely a nuisance to be brushed aside. It ignited your anger further.

“What matters?” you demanded, your voice edged with defiance as you crossed your arms, refusing to back down from his piercing gaze.

Jungkook leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin, his expression unreadable. “Now that you are here, and this will be your home, it is time to leave behind the ways of your old pack. There are rules you must follow, and you shall learn them in due course,” Jungkook stated, his voice steady, but the words hit you like a slap.

You straightened your spine, glaring at him. “And, may I ask what rules I need to follow?” The irritation in your voice was clear, though you fought to keep it even.

“First, you’re not allowed to leave the palace without my permission,” he replied, his tone calm and unwavering. The calmness only ignited the fire of rebellion inside you.

“What? You’re serious?” You narrowed your eyes, your hands curling into fists. “That’s absurd.”

“very,” he said, brushing off your defiance as if it were a passing breeze. “Second, you won’t form close relationships with the staff or pack members. And third, you're not to attend pack meetings.”

“You’re isolating me,” you accused, each word sharpened by the rising heat of your frustration. “Do you hear yourself? You can’t possibly expect me to follow this nonsense.”

“You’re also restricted from certain areas of the palace, especially the the royal chamber.”

“Is this just another way to keep me locked up like one of your pets?” you spat, sarcasm dripping from your words as you crossed your arms.

Jungkook’s eyes flashed with a brief flicker of irritation, but he masked it quickly. “You’ll present yourself formally at all events. And you’re not to mention our mating bond to anyone.”

Your laugh was bitter, mocking. “This is pathetic. Do you hear yourself? You want me to pretend to be your perfect little queen while you strip me of every ounce of dignity.”

His expression didn’t change, which only fueled your anger more. “You’ll follow a strict schedule, including etiquette lessons, and as I said, no physical training.”

“No physical training? You can’t stop me from fighting.” You took another step forward, daring him to try. “You don’t get to decide that for me.”

“I just did,” he replied coolly, eyes narrowing as he looked down at you. “You're not to challenge me in front of the pack. You will dress appropriately, as befits a queen."

You clenched your jaw, a white-hot rage bubbling under your skin.

“You’ll attend all royal ceremonies, whether you want to or not. And there will be no emotional displays in public,” he continued, his voice like iron.

You advanced on him, fury swirling in your veins. “And what if I do?” you dared, eyes gleaming with defiance. “What if I make a scene? What if I let the whole pack see exactly how you treat me?”

“There will be no physical intimacy between us, unless I say otherwise.”

That statement landed like a blow. For a second, you couldn’t respond, your heart hammering in your chest. But you recovered quickly, your lips curling into a sharp, humorless smile.

He remained unmoved. “You will not voice your opinion on pack matters, nor will you challenge the council.”

Your eyes burned with a fierce light. “I’ll challenge anyone I damn well please,” you snapped, stepping even closer. “You can make all the rules you want, but I'll do what I wish.”

“Thats all! I trust that’s clear?”

“Crystal clear,” you growled, sarcastically, your fists shaking with the need to lash out. “But don’t expect me to just obey like one of your trained wolves.”

“patricia will accompany you back to your room,” he said, gesturing toward Patricia, who stood dumbfounded, her mouth agape, her eyes darting between you and Jungkook.

“Ye-yes, Your Majesty,” she stammered, clearly as shocked as you were.

She stepped closer to you, grabbing your hand and tugging gently as if to coax you away, but you couldn’t help throwing daggers at Jungkook with your eyes.

“Luna, please,” Shina pleaded, pulling at your sleeve.

But you weren’t done. Not by a long shot.

You turned sharply, locking eyes with Shina, who was pale and clearly terrified, but before she could speak, you whipped around to face him one last time. “I’m not your possession, and I never will be. One way or another, I will make my own choices.”

His lips twisted into a tight smile. “We’ll see,” he said, a low growl rumbling in his throat.

“I guess we will,” you shot back, your voice steady, daring, as you stormed out of the room, Patricia scrambling to follow.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind you, the floodgates of your emotions burst open. “He is a bastard!” you yelled, the words echoing through the room. Patricia���s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes widening in shock as she darted a nervous glance at the door.

“Luna, he can hear you!” she hissed, but your anger had already ignited a fire within you, consuming all rational thought.

“I know!” you snapped back, a defiant spark igniting in your chest as you started walking like some deranged animal.

“Wait!” she called, scrambling to catch up to you. “Where are you going?”

“To my room! Duh!” you exclaimed, rolling your eyes as if the answer were the most obvious thing in the world.

“It’s on the other side,” she said, pointing right with an urgency that made her look almost comical. “And don’t say ‘duh!’”

“Whatever!” you shot back, heading in the direction she indicated, arms swinging at your sides.

As soon as you reached your room, you let out a primal scream of frustration, your voice ricocheting off the walls. You began to roam the room, while Patricia watched you with concern, her brow furrowing.

Just then, a sharp knock interrupted your spiral. You turned to Patricia, who nodded at you, her eyes wide as if to say, “Brace yourself.”

“Come in!” you called, trying to sound nonchalant, though your heart raced.

The door swung open, revealing Shina, the beta female, stepping inside with a bright smile. “Shina, FINALLY!” Patricia exclaimed, relief flooding her voice. You felt a flash of offense bubble up inside you—was it really that bad with you?

Shina let out a light laugh before turning her gaze to you, offering a small nod. “I’ve been told to serve as your etiquette teacher,” she said, executing a playful curtsy that made you giggle. “We’re going to have so much fun!”

You couldn’t help but smile back at her eagerness, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “Fun? Is that what we’re calling it?”

“I thought she would be provided with a real teacher,” Patricia chimed in, throwing Shina a side-eye that was dripping with sarcasm.

“Are you doubting me?” Shina asked, feigning offense, a hand on her hip, her expression a mix of mock indignation and amusement.

“No, of course not!” Patricia replied, forcing a sweet smile that barely hid her skepticism. “I’m just doubting your etiquette. Do you even have any?”

Your eyes widened in disbelief. You’d never seen Patricia like this; she was usually a bundle of nerves. But now, a smirk played at the corners of her mouth.

“Excuse me?!” Shina gasped, placing a hand on her chest in mock horror. “I’ll have you know that I can differentiate between a salad fork and a dessert fork!”

“Yeah! And, I eat water. But seriously, why you?” Patricia asked, her brow furrowing in confusion. Shina simply shrugged her shoulders, a nonchalant gesture that only fueled your suspicions. You knew the answer all too well: he didn't want anyone to know you were his mate—just the people who had to be in the loop.

“Shall we start?” Shina asked, breaking the tension as she clapped her hands together. Patricia flopped down onto a nearby chair by the window, her movement unceremonious as she rolled her eyes. “Yeah, be ready. But let me warn you, she’s the same woman who once called the duke ‘Dukie.’”

“Don’t mind her,” Shina said, waving her hand dismissively as if brushing away a fly. “She’s just a whiny ass.”

“I heard that!” Patricia shot back, her voice sharper than a knife, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

“I wanted you to hear it,” you chimed in, stifling a laugh at the bickering.

“It’s fine then,” Patricia said, crossing her arms defiantly, her chin tilted up as if she were accepting a challenge.

The two of them were practically squabbling like an old married couple, and you couldn't help but feel amused. Shina leaned in closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “So, Luna—”

“Call me Bee,” you said, cutting her off as a genuine smile breaking through the heaviness in your chest. The nickname, a sweet remnant from your mother. Since her death, no one had used it, and it stung to remember how alone you felt without your wolf at your side after Jungkook had left you. It was as if a gaping void had settled in your mind.

“Are you sure?” Shina asked, glancing at Patricia, who wore an expression of surprise that mirrored your own.

“Yes,” you affirmed, nodding your head fervently.

“Okie!” Shina chirped, bouncing on her feet.

The next few hours dissolved into a whirlwind of laughter and playful jabs from Patricia as Shina animatedly imparted lessons on royal protocol and warrior ethics. You found yourself gasping for breath between fits of giggles at their banter, the absurdity of their comments lightening your mood. Shina was undeniably fun, and you noticed how Patricia relaxed, the rigid lines of her discipline softening in Shina’s presence.

“Finally, we are done!” you screeched, flopping onto your bed like a rag doll, your limbs sprawling out. Patricia, who had been perched on the edge of the bed for what felt like an eternity, looked over at you, a mix of concern and amusement on her face.

“Bee, that wasn’t very queen-like—” she began, her tone teasing, but you shot her a playful glare.

“Shut up!” Shina interjected, her laughter ringing out like a bell. Patricia merely shook her head, a smile breaking through her feigned exasperation. You found it funny how their relationship worked; Patricia was the serious one, and Shina was the carefree one. You couldn't help but wonder how the two of them got along so well in a world that felt so strange to you.

“Bee, now we gotta go,” Shina said, her voice dropping slightly as she held out her hand to Patricia, their fingers interlacing.

“Where?” you asked, a flicker of disappointment gnawing at your insides. You didn’t want them to leave. They had become your lifeline, distracting you from thoughts of Jungkook and the confusion he left behind. Without them, the looming silence would creep back in, suffocating you to no end.

“I’m sorry, Bee, but we have urgent matters to address,” Shina said, her smile tinged with sadness. “But you can come with us if you want to,” she added, her expression brightening as hope glimmered in her eyes.

You nodded eagerly. “Yes! I want to come!”

The three of you made your way out of the room, and a big smile spread across your face. Life in your old pack had been tough, each day a struggle to find your place, but it was different here. Despite Jungkook’s coldness and the constant feeling of not being enough, you were grateful for the friendship blossoming around you. You didn’t know if Patricia and Shina considered you friends, but you sure did. Patricia still maintained a hint of formality, but you sensed she’d warm up eventually, just like Shina had.

“Where are we heading to?” you asked, glancing between the two as they shared a conspiratorial look, excitement dancing in their eyes.

“To the training field,” Shina answered, her voice light and cheerful. She looked at you with a soft smile that made her cheeks flush. “she is the general’s mate, so she is responsible for training the female wolves.” she said pointing at Patricia, as she also blushed for the reasons unknown to you. Her shyness was endearing, but the way her smile faded a bit as she added, “And we also need to train,” hinted at the challenge ahead.

Unfortunately, Jungkook had forbidden you from training—an order that left you feeling more like a caged bird than ever. You didn’t understand why he loathed you so much; his harshness felt like a wall between you. But deep down, you knew this couldn’t last. You couldn’t keep stewing in sadness and anger while he remained a closed book, hiding his emotions from you. You needed to confront him soon; you needed your mate, and he needed you, too, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

“Oh! So you mean you’re going there to train and not to eye-fuck the beta?” Patricia piped up, her voice teasing, a wide smirk lighting up her face and a laugh bubbled from your throat.

Shina’s eyes widened in mock horror, her mouth forming an exaggerated “O.” “Patricia! You can’t say that! We have to keep it professional!” She feigned scandal, a hand pressed dramatically against her chest, yet the laughter dancing in her eyes betrayed her.

“Professional? Please!” Patricia rolled her eyes, flicking her hair over her shoulder with a flourish. “The only thing you do professionally is blushing every time beta Kian walks by! I am like woman, he is your damn mate. Get a grip!”

“Oh, and what about you, Miss ‘I Can’t Stop Staring’?” Shina shot back, playfully bumping her shoulder against Patricia's as they walked side by side. “If I recall, you nearly drooled on Neil the other day!”

“Hey! He’s just so—” Patricia started, her cheeks flushing a deep red, “—dreamy! I can’t help it!” She huffed, crossing her arms defiantly but couldn’t hide her smirk.

“Dreamy? More like a heartthrob disaster waiting to happen!” Shina retorted, throwing her head back in laughter, their voices filling the hallway with warmth.

“Will he be there too?” you asked, your voice wavering slightly as both of them paused their bickering to focus on you. Shina’s eyes lit up with a knowing smirk that made your heart race, while Patricia's expression softened, a hint of sympathy in her gaze. She smiled gently, but it didn’t reach her eyes as she whispered, “Yes.”

You nodded slowly, the weight of her understanding hanging in the air. Patricia knew the ache of longing all too well; she had fought her own battles to be with her mate. Neither of you spoke further on the subject as you continued walking toward the training ground. It felt like a long trek, the palace sprawling before you.

As you entered the training field, the chaos hit you like a wave. The air buzzed with energy as female wolves sparred, fists flying in a flurry of movement. Grunts of exertion and the thud of bodies colliding filled the space. It was a sight to behold, but not the prettiest—some faces were twisted with concentration, others were flushed with effort, while some were twisted in pain.

Shina and Patricia quickly motioned you to take a seat in one corner, a quick nod from Shina signaling for you to stay put while they dashed off to change into their training gear.

You took a moment to absorb the scene before you. The female wolves fought with determination, their bodies glistening with sweat under the warm sun. The breathy grunts hanging heavy in the air and... you wanted to join too.

Yet, as you sat on the sidelines, you felt a pang of frustration at Jungkook’s orders. Why had he insisted you stay away from training? You glanced toward the empty side of the field, the male wolves’ training area—silent for now, but you knew they would be there soon. Would Jungkook be among them? Your heart raced at the thought, and your wolf stirred again.

Soon, both Shina and Patricia came sprinting toward you, their bodies clad in sleek training gear that hugged their athletic frames. Shina practically leaped into your space as she exclaimed, “Bee, she will measure the performance of them all! You can wait here while I go help her.” The brightness in her eyes was contagious, and you nodded in agreement, feeling a little like a lost puppy trying to keep up.

They dashed away toward the combat pit, and you watched as Patricia's voice rang out like a bell, instantly commanding attention. “Listen up, everyone!” she called, her tone firm yet encouraging. The warriors immediately fell into line, forming neat rows as Shina moved among them, dividing them into teams with an air of authority that surprised you. It lasted only a moment before the clashing of fists and feet began, filling the air with a rhythm of combat.

You leaned back against the cool wall, eyes wide as you observed the spectacle. The warriors displayed impressive skills, each move fluid and powerful. You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of inadequacy—there was no way you could compete, even against the weakest here. This was the royal pack, after all, and they were warriors forged from years of dedication and strength.

Still, you found a sliver of enjoyment in the chaos. Watching them fight was far better than sitting alone in your room, staring at the walls that felt like they were closing in on you. And soon the other training area began to fill up. You spotted Kian entering first, his presence commanding. Shina’s eyes lit up, practically sparkling as she stared at him, her focus wavering. “Shina, focus!” Patricia called out, exasperation lacing her tone as she tried to bring her back to reality. But Shina’s gaze kept drifting back to her shirtless mate, who seemed completely oblivious to the effect he had on everyone around him. Kian was not just hot; he was undeniably hot hot, the kind of hot that drew attention without effort.

You let out a soft chuckle at their antics, but then, out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of a dark figure emerging from the shadows. Your heart skipped a beat as a chill raced down your spine. The air around you shifted, crackling with an intense energy that sent heat biting through your bones. A deep, primal desire ignited in your core, wrapping around your heart like a vine.

He was here.

Jungkook.

You turned your head slightly, trying to catch a glimpse of him without being obvious, and there he stood in the farthest corner of the training ground, shirtless. Jungkook's eyes were locked on you, igniting a fire deep within your chest. His jaw tightened, and his brows furrowed in a way that made your heart race. The world around you seemed to fade, leaving only his intense gaze that set you ablaze.

With a deliberate slowness, he strode toward the combat pit where Kian waited, a devilish glint flashing in his eyes. Neil, the general, stood off to the side, focused on the other male warriors, a commanding presence that left no room for doubt. But all you could think about was Jungkook. Your breath hitched as he casually began to unbutton his white shirt, each button giving way one by one, exposing more of his chiselled torso. You let out a low whine before you even realized it was your wolf reacting to the sight of him.

Out of all the times for your wolf to make her presence known, she chose now? But who could blame her? Your mate was standing there in low-hanging trousers, his bare skin catching the sunlight and highlighting the contours of his muscles. The sight was intoxicating, and a primal urge surged through you as your wolf growled in your mind, a low rumble of frustration mingling with desire.

“Look at him, Bee. He is so hot,” she purred, her voice sultry and teasing. “Bee, why doesn't he want us?” You could feel her longing vibrating through your very being, making it hard to concentrate on anything else.

As Jungkook and Kian circled each other in the pit. Kian lunged first, throwing a sharp right hook aimed at Jungkook’s jaw, but Jungkook sidestepped with lightning speed, barely lifting an eyebrow in acknowledgement. Kian was quick to recover, spinning on his heel and throwing a swift jab to Jungkook’s ribs, but it was met with nothing but air. Jungkook had already ducked low, his body moving like it had anticipated the strike long before it happened.

Kian came in harder this time, eyes blazing with determination, throwing a barrage of punches. Jungkook dodged the first few easily, his movements fluid, then caught Kian’s wrist mid-punch with a grip like iron. For a second, they stood there, locked in place, the power struggle evident. Jungkook's eyes narrowed, his grip tightening just enough for Kian to wince.

Without warning, Kian yanked his arm free, pivoting low and sweeping Jungkook's legs out from under him. Jungkook hit the ground hard, but before Kian could press the advantage, Jungkook rolled out of reach, popping back up to his feet with the same effortless grace.

Kian charged again, this time aiming a vicious uppercut. Jungkook ducked just in time, feeling the brush of Kian’s fist pass over his hair. Jungkook countered immediately, his fist slamming into Kian’s gut with a dull thud that echoed in the pit. Kian grunted, staggering back a few steps, but he didn’t go down.

Jungkook didn’t let up. He stepped forward, driving his elbow into Kian’s side, a brutal strike that sent him stumbling to his knees. For a moment, Jungkook paused, chest rising and falling steadily, his eyes locked on Kian. It was like he was waiting — giving him a chance to get up, to fight back. There was no malice in his eyes, only dominance.

But Kian wasn’t finished. He sprang up, swinging wildly, desperate now. Jungkook blocked the punches with ease, his forearms absorbing the blows like they were nothing. When Kian threw a wild hook, Jungkook sidestepped, grabbed the back of his neck, and yanked him forward. They collided, chest to chest, Jungkook’s lips curling into a smirk as Kian struggled to free himself from his grip.

In one smooth motion, Jungkook twisted and slammed Kian to the ground, hard. Kian gasped, the wind knocked from his lungs as he hit the dirt with a heavy thud. Jungkook loomed over him, his knee pressing into Kian’s chest, pinning him in place. The fight was over — Jungkook didn’t need to say a word. His body, his presence, declared victory.

He stood slowly, letting Kian catch his breath, but his gaze never once wavered. He rolled his neck, muscles flexing as he looked down at his fallen opponent, then turned away without another glance.

Your heart sank, disappointment washing over you like a wave, leaving you breathless. Your wolf, however, was undeterred.

“He doesn’t even looked at us,” she sulked, her voice a mix of longing and frustration.

As you watched him turn away, the heat in your core only intensified as you unknowingly pressed your legs together. Your gaze lingered on his retreating figure, every step he took echoing in your chest. You couldn’t help but think of how strong he was, how much power he radiated, and how desperately you wanted to be close to him.

The combat pit was still bustling around you, but all you could see was Jungkook, the way he carried himself with a confidence that made your heart race. “Why won’t you look at me?” you thought, frustration bubbling within you as you watched him leave.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, painting the horizon in hues of orange and pink, you found yourself wandering back to your room. Shina escorted you, but you could sense her eagerness to leave as she still had to bath and wash away the sweat of training. After a brief goodbye, she left you alone, and the silence settled heavily around you.

At night dinner came and went, delivered by a maid who whisked in and out with a tray of food that you barely touched. The sheets cool against your skin felt nice, but sleep eluded you. Tossing and turning only brought frustration, and after hours of restless thoughts, you resigned yourself to the fact that tonight would be a long one.

With a deep sigh, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and stood, the cool floor grounding you. You stepped out into the empty halls of the palace, the quiet amplified by the vastness of the space. The air was thick with a stillness that made every sound seem sharper.

As you walked, your eyes drifted over the majestic paintings that adorned the walls. Each one was a reminder of the lineage that loomed over you. You paused before a portrait that caught your attention—a striking depiction of Jungkook’s father, the late Lycan king. His strong features were chiseled in a way that demanded respect, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness for Jungkook. He had lost so much at such a young age, thrust into a role that should have belonged to a father, a king. You could only imagine the weight of that responsibility, the expectations that came with it.

Taking a deep breath, you continued down the hallway. The corridor opened into the royal garden, where the moon hung high in the sky, casting silvery light over the landscape. You stepped outside, the cool night air wrapping around you like a soothing balm. The moon was full, its glow reflecting off the petals of the flowers and illuminating the leaves of the trees.

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting the serenity wash over you. This was the time when werewolves felt most connected to the world, to each other, to the wild magic that flowed through your veins. You could feel the pull of the moon, urging you to embrace your true nature.

As you gazed up at the night sky, a sense of calm enveloped you. The moon was a reminder that even in darkness, there was beauty to be found. You longed to share this moment with Jungkook, to let him see the side of you that yearned for love and understanding. The thought made your heart flutter, igniting a flicker of warmth within you.

“What brings you here?” The voice came from behind you, deep and resonant, causing you to turn around, startled. There he stood—Jungkook, the moonlight casting a silver halo around him. For the first time since you met, his expression was calm, devoid of the anger and confusion that usually clouded his features. In that moment, he looked almost ethereal, and you felt your heart race.

“Nothing,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “I wasn't able to sleep, so I was just wandering around and found myself here.” You shrugged, your hands fidgeting nervously at your sides.

He motioned for you to follow him, and without hesitation, you fell into step beside him. The soft crunch of gravel underfoot was the only sound accompanying the stillness of the night as he led you deeper into the garden, the fragrant scent of blooming flowers enveloping you both.

“It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?” he asked, glancing at you from the corner of his eye, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“Indeed, your majesty,” you agreed, your voice barely above a whisper. The night was enchanting, each star twinkling like diamonds against the velvet sky, but an unsettling feeling clung to you.

Suddenly, he halted, turning to face you, his gaze intense. His eyes widened slightly, and the soft pout of his lips drew your attention. “You can call me by my name; you’re my mate,” he stated, a hint of authority in his tone, as if there was no room for argument. Before you could respond, he resumed walking, leaving you momentarily stunned.

His words, sweet yet loaded with expectation, he himself was unable to fulfill, left a bitter taste in your mouth. A sharp retort bubbled on your tongue, a protest against the very idea that he could command you so easily. But instead of voicing your anger, you chose silence. You swallowed hard, forcing down the instinct to lash out. Instead, you fell in step behind him, your heart racing, a storm of emotions swirling inside you.

As you walked, the tension hung heavy in the air, a force that wrapped around you both. His broad shoulders were relaxed, yet you could sense the underlying power that radiated from him with each step. You stole glances at his profile, the way the moonlight danced along his sharp jawline, the faint shadow of stubble framing his lips.

You soon found Jungkook stopping, settling down on the soft grass beneath him. He motioned for you to join him, but you shook your head, a sudden shyness washing over you. “I can’t sit on the ground,” you said, gesturing toward your clothes. “It’s expensive.”

A flicker of confusion crossed his features. “What do you mean?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, his dark hair catching the moonlight.

You looked away, unable to meet his gaze. “I come from a low pack. We don’t wear things like this,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve never owned anything so fancy.”

For a moment, you braced yourself for his reaction, expecting him to laugh or make some snide remark. Instead, to your astonishment, he shrugged off his coat, laying it down on the grass. “Here,” he said, his voice steady. “Sit on this.” He extended his hand to you, palm up, inviting you to take it.

Your heart raced as you hesitated, then slowly placed your hand in his. A low, breathy moan escaped your lips as a tingling sensation flooded through your body. His eyes widened for a brief moment, and you could see the flicker of surprise before he masked it, helping you lower yourself onto his coat.

“It feels nice,” you murmured, your heart pounding. The warmth of his hand lingered in yours, and you didn’t want to let go. “Is it really okay?”

“It’s just a coat,” he replied, though the intensity in his gaze suggested otherwise. “I’d rather you be comfortable.”

You sat there for what felt like an eternity, the silence stretching between you. Finally, you decided to break it, curiosity nudging at you. “So… what’s it like being a king?” As soon as those words skipped your lips you internally cringed, this was embarassing, you wanted to take, but not like this.

He chuckled softly, a sound that sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. There are expectations, duties—lots of politics.”

“Sounds boring,” you said, raising an eyebrow playfully. “Do you ever get to do anything fun?”

He smiled, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Occasionally. But mostly, I have to focus on the pack. It’s a lot of responsibility.” His tone turned serious, and you could see the weight of his role pressing down on him.

“Doesn’t it get lonely?” you asked, tilting your head, trying to gauge his reaction. “Being king and all, with so many people around but no one really understanding you?”

“Sometimes,” he admitted, looking away into the distance, his jaw tightening slightly. “But I have people I trust.”

You didn't said anything after that and a calming silence enveloped the two of you, as peaceful as the soft glow of the moonlight overhead. Unable to resist, you broke the stillness, once again. “Jungkook?”

“Hmmm?” His voice was low and gentle, his eyes fixed on the moon, reflecting a light that felt almost ethereal.

You hesitated, then spoke with a mix of hope and vulnerability. “Do you know… when I was young, I always dreamed of dancing under the moonlight with my mate.” You paused, gauging his reaction as the words hung in the air, thick and heavy. "Do you dance?" You couldn't help but ask as you braced yourself for the rejection.

His gaze shifted from the moon to you, and for a moment, the world around you faded into insignificance. “No,” he admitted softly, the vulnerability in his voice surprising you. But then he added, “But I might,” and something in his tone sent shivers down your spine, a hint of something deeper glimmering in his eyes.

Your heart raced as you felt a warmth blooming in your chest, something dark yet lovely igniting within you, making your pulse quicken. The atmosphere crackled with unspoken tension, and you couldn’t look away from him.

Without warning, he rose to his feet, extending his hand towards you. You smiled brightly, your heart soaring at the gesture, and without hesitation, you grasped his hand. The familiar tingling sensation surged through your body, igniting a warmth that spread from your fingertips to your core.

“Come on,” he murmured, his voice low and inviting, and you felt your breath hitch as you stood beside him. He gently pulled you closer, his other hand resting lightly on your waist, guiding you into a slow sway.

But as the dance slowed, reality crept back in, and he gently pulled away, his hand still clasped around yours. “I should escort you back to your room,” he said, his tone shifting back to that of the king, though the warmth in his gaze lingered.

You nodded, a hint of reluctance creeping in. “I guess it’s late,” you replied, your heart still racing from the dance.

As you walked side by side, the silence was comfortable. Jungkook led you back through the garden. When you reached your door, he turned to face you, his expression softening once more. “Goodnight,” he said, a hint of something deeper in his voice.

“Goodnight, Jungkook,” you replied, you wanted to reach out, to pull him back, but instead, you simply smiled.

As you closed the door, you made your way to the bed, a soft sigh escaping your lips. The cool sheets felt inviting against your skin as you slipped under the covers, your heart still racing from the dance and the fleeting touches. You closed your eyes, as you smiled softly. Maybe, just maybe everything was finally falling back to it's place. You were not to lie, you liked Jungkook and mate bond was thickening every second every minute, it was only strengthening your feelings and was making you more vulnerable to him. And, who are you to deny the truth that you desperately needed that doe eyed king. You let your thoughts drift, a soft smile spreading across your face. In the quiet of your dreams, you found him again, lost in a world where he was as desperate for you as you were for him. You dream of him, you dream of him dreaming you as desperately as you were dreaming of him.

In the middle of the night, you jolted awake. The room around you glowed with dancing shadows, moonlight slipping through the curtains like whispers, casting silver patterns on the walls. You blinked, it was past midnight and you were unable to go back to sleep.

Cocooned in warm sheets, you took a deep breath, the scent of something sweet and salty wrapping around you like a gentle embrace.

You quietly slipped out of bed, the soft pad of your feet brushing against the cool floor. For a moment, you stood frozen, unsure of what to do, scanning the darkness that enveloped you. Your instincts kicked in, sharpening your senses as you stepped out of your room, the shadows swallowing you whole. Each step felt instinctual, as if an invisible thread tugged at your heart, beckoning you forward. It was a magnetic pull, calling your name, compelling you to follow like a desperate devotee.

Suddenly, you heard a low murmur. It was coming from a room. You hesitated, knowing you shouldn’t intrude, but that voice broke something inside you. With trembling hands, you slowly opened the door, and the sight before you shattered your heart.

There lay Jungkook on his bed, thrashing about, his face twisted in distress as he murmured incoherent whispers. His brow was furrowed, and his lips trembled, as if he was fighting against some unseen torment. You didn't even realised you had come all the way to price chamber. You rushed to his side, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Jungkook,” you called softly, reaching out to gently shake him. “Wake up.”

His eyes flew open, wide and confused, the fear in them piercing through the haze of his nightmares. For a brief moment, shock flickered across his face, and then he froze, taking in your presence.

“Why are you here?” he rasped, his voice hoarse and raw.

“I heard you,” you whispered, your heart racing.

"What were you doing tiptoeing around my room?" He practically screamed screamed at you, pushing you away.

"N—no. I—I wasn't," you said, shaking your head trying to reach out to him.

Anger flashing in his eyes. “You think you can just come in here and play the savior?”

“Jungkook, what? What are you even say? I just wanted to help!” you pleaded, stepping closer, desperate to reach him.

“Help? You think you can help? You think you’re the solution to my problems?” he sneered, his expression hardening. “I hate you! You think this is love? I will ever love you? Never!”

The pain in his words felt like a physical blow. “That’s not fair!” you cried, your voice shaking. “I’m not trying to intrude. I just want to—!”

"I don't care," he growled, glaring at you, his fists clenched at his sides. “You think you can understand what it’s like to be me? To have everyone around you suffer because of your existence?”

You felt your heart sink further, but you were unable to understand his words. It was like they were written in a foreign language and although you did know the alphabets, were unable to make sense of a whole sentence. “I’m not trying to do anything! I’m here because I care about you!”

“Care? Is that what you call this?” he shouted, his voice rising with frustration as a low whimper left your throat. “Oh! Sweet mate, do you really think a weak voice and sad eyes would help you? Do you think you get to be all fragile now?”

Tears stung your eyes as you fought to hold them back. “But I merely intended to help!” you insisted, desperate for him to see the truth. “You don’t have to push me away!”

“Why would I want you around?” he hissed, his gaze piercing through you. “You’re nothing but a reminder of everything I can’t have, everything I shouldn't have, and I’m here to make sure you don’t get hurt.”

With each word, your heart broke a little more, the weight of his rejection crushing you. “I thought... I thought we, toge—,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Together?” he echoed, his voice dripping with scorn. “You think that’s what this is? You’re wrong! The moon goddess has cursed you, and now you have to deal with it."

"But—"

"Leave!”

Without another word, you dashed down the hall, the world around you blurring as you pushed the door to your room open and locked it behind you. Sliding down against the cool wood, you let the tears flow freely. You couldn’t believe this was happening. For years, you had dreamed of having a mate. After losing your parents at such a young age, you had felt all alone. Life had been hard, but the thought of having someone to love, cherish, and adore had kept you going. But how had it all come to this? After praying to the moon goddess for years, you finally had a mate, and he didn’t want you. Was it true what your pack members always said? Were you really cursed? Were you really destined to be nothing but an abomination?

Now, it felt like you truly were cursed and unlovable, an abomination. You called out to your wolf, reaching for her, but she felt so distant, drowning in the loss of a mate she never really had. Jungkook’s words echoed in your mind, and the pain of his rejection was nothing compared to the hollow ache of losing your wolf.

“Please,” you begged again, your voice cracking, but silence filled the empty corners of your mind. A shrill sob escaped your throat, a sound of desperation and grief. You cried, each sob tearing through you as you let the waves of sorrow wash over you. You cried until you couldn’t anymore, until your tears ran dry, and exhaustion pulled you under like a heavy blanket.

Finally, the weight of it all became too much, and you fell into a deep slumber, your heart still aching but momentarily free from the torment of reality.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

"Bee." A soft voice pulled you out of the fog of sleep, nudging you back to consciousness. You groaned as the sunlight filtered through the window, the brightness bouncing off the walls and stabbing your eyes like tiny needles. You turned your head away with a low whine, squeezing your eyes shut tighter against the overwhelming light.

"Bee?" The voice was closer now, more insistent. You blinked your eyes open reluctantly and saw Shina crouched beside you. Concern was etched deeply into her face, her brows furrowed, lips pressed in a thin line. Her hand reached out, gently gripping your arm, and she slowly helped you sit up from the cold floor.

"Why were you sleeping on the floor?" she asked, her voice gentle, though her worry was unmistakable. Her eyes, wide and searching, bore into yours, trying to find an answer you weren’t ready to give.

You blinked at Shina, still dazed, feeling like you were floating in a fog. The memory of last night twisted in your chest, squeezing tighter with every second that passed. His words, so sharp and cold, cut through you again, making it hard to breathe. You had tried to push them away, but the hurt clung to you, pulling you down.

"Bee, what happened?" Shina asked again, her voice low but urgent, her grip on your arm growing tighter. Her eyes searched yours, wide with worry, but you could barely meet them. You tried to speak, to say anything, but your throat was tight, and the pressure behind your eyes made your vision blur. She was so close, her concern so raw and real, that it only made you feel more fragile. You felt like you could break at any moment.

The weight of it all pressed down on you—her worry, the memory of his cruelty—and you felt the tears threaten to spill over. You blinked them away quickly, refusing to let them fall, and forced yourself to speak.

"I'm okay," you murmured, though your voice cracked, barely more than a whisper. It wavered, weak and uncertain, but you straightened your shoulders, trying to sound firm. Shina's eyes softened, her lips parting as if she wanted to argue, but she held back. Instead, she nodded, though you could tell she didn’t believe a word.

"Right..." she said, clearing her throat. "Ahrm, I came to call you for breakfast." She tried to sound cheerful, but there was a hesitancy in her voice, the usual bounce missing.

"Breakfast?" you repeated, like the word itself didn’t make sense.

"Yeah," she nodded, motioning toward the bathroom. "You should get ready."

"Oh." You nodded slowly, as if on autopilot, and grabbed the yellow dress sitting on the edge of the bed. Shina had bought it for you, and you knew it meant something, but the significance felt distant now. Your body moved without thought, heading to the bathroom like it was just another day.

Inside, you let the water run hot, scalding almost, trying to feel something other than the ache that had settled deep in your chest. The steam wrapped around you, clouding your vision, but it couldn’t chase away the storm swirling in your head.

When you finally stepped out, Shina was waiting, her smile soft but cautious. “Bee, you look pretty,” she said, handing you a small box wrapped in delicate paper.

You took it, staring blankly at the box in your hand. "What’s this?"

"Jungkook asked me to give it to you." Her eyes flickered with something—excitement, maybe—but you weren’t sure. You nodded, barely acknowledging her as you tossed the box onto the bed without a second glance.

"I’m not opening it," you said flatly, your voice cold and distant.

Shina hesitated, her lips parting to say something, but she closed them quickly, offering a half-hearted nod. "Okay... Let's go."

The walk to the dining hall was quiet, too quiet. Shina glanced at you from time to time, but you were lost in your thoughts, diving deep into the darkness that had settled in your heart. Last night had been a dream—Jungkook had been so kind, so sweet, so real. For the first time, you had believed there might be a chance. But the way he had pushed you away so harshly afterward… it shattered everything.

“Bee, this way,” Shina said, guiding you through the doors and into the hall. The massive dining table stretched out before you, with Jungkook seated at the far end. His eyes were focused on his plate, avoiding your gaze entirely. Kian sat beside him, his arm casually dropped over the table. The other seats filled quickly with Neil, Patricia, and several others you barely registered.

Shina nudged you gently into the seat beside Jungkook, her smile forced, trying to ease the tension. "Come on, Bee. It’s just breakfast. Nothing too dramatic, right?" She chuckled awkwardly, but it fell flat in the heavy air. She glanced at Kian, who gave her a small, supportive smile, but you could tell even she felt the weight of Jungkook’s presence, of his silence.

You sat stiffly, your back straight, eyes locked on the table in front of you. Jungkook’s hand gripped his fork tightly, knuckles white, but he never looked your way. Not once.

Shina, trying to break the ice, leaned forward. "Bee," she started, forcing a grin, "Why don't you try pancakes? It's really good. Right, Kian?" She wiggled her eyebrows at Kian, trying to coax a smile out of you.

You glanced at her, offering a weak, polite smile, but your heart wasn’t in it.

Kian smirked, shaking his head. "Yes, this beautiful beside me loves pancakes!."

Jungkook’s fork clinked against his plate, the subtle sound sharper than it should’ve been. His jaw clenched, and for a second, his gaze flickered to you, something raw and almost vulnerable flashing in his eyes before he quickly looked away.

You felt the knot in your throat tighten, but you swallowed it down, refusing to let it show. There was no apology, no acknowledgment, just silence.

"Bee?" Shina’s voice broke through the fog, her hand gently resting on yours under the table. Her touch was warm, grounding you in the moment.

You blinked, shaking your head slightly. "Yeah?"

"Do you want me to take you out after breakfast? You know, just the two of us? We can talk... or not talk, whatever you want."

Jungkook’s shoulders tensed, his breath catching for just a second. But still, he said nothing.

You met Shina’s eyes, her genuine worry for you reflected in them. You gave a small nod, even though your chest felt heavy. "Yeah, sure. I’d love that," you whispered, your voice barely holding together.

Jungkook shifted beside you, his fork clattering against the plate as he finally spoke. "You guys should probably go out. Take Patricia with you too." His voice was steady, but cold, distant. He still didn’t look at you, directing his words toward Shina.

A bitter laugh slipped from your lips before you could stop it. The sound made him go rigid, though he still wouldn’t meet your eyes. It was ridiculous, really, how he could be so close yet feel so unreachable.

Breakfast ended in uncomfortable silence. You stood up quietly, your chair scraping the floor as you excused yourself. Jungkook’s eyes followed your movement for a fleeting moment, but when you looked back, they were fixed on his plate again.

Alone, you made your way back to your room, each step feeling heavier than the last. You lingered by the window, staring out at the world beyond. It was strange—Jungkook suggesting you go out, as if it made any difference. As if letting you walk through town would somehow patch the holes he left in you.

But of course, he didn’t care. He made that clear last night.

A knock echoed through your room, loud against the silence, snapping you from your thoughts. Reluctantly, you crossed the room and opened the door to find a man in a black uniform standing there, his posture rigid.

"His Majesty has assigned me to escort you outside the palace, for your protection.," he said with no introduction, his tone all business. The man was imposing—broad-shouldered, with a no-nonsense expression. He didn’t waste time on pleasantries. "Please, come. Beta female is already waiting."

You nodded, not really knowing what else to do, and followed as he motioned for you to walk beside him. His steps were measured, precise, and soon you were outside, seated in a car heading who knew where. Kenji, as you later learned his name was, drove with Shina beside him, her usual chatty demeanor subdued, while Patricia sat next to you in silence.

"Kenji, stop by The Velvet Pheasant," Shina said, her voice firm but distracted, not even glancing at him.

"Sure, beta female," he replied, his deep voice steady as he turned the wheel. The car came to a smooth halt outside an extravagant boutique, the kind that screamed prestige from the way it gleamed in the afternoon sun. The building’s grand façade loomed over you, polished and perfect, and you felt a wave of reluctance wash over you.

Stepping out of the car, Patricia told Kenji to wait outside, and he responded with a curt nod and a surprisingly warm gummy smile. You followed the girls inside, feeling the cool air hit you as soon as you entered. An older woman rushed toward Shina with surprising speed, her arms flung wide for an embrace.

"Shina, you’ve completely forgotten about me. Don't come to visit aunt anymore" the woman cried, clutching Shina tightly. "I haven’t seen you in ages! I even asked your mother, and she just said, 'Oh, you know Shina is busy these days.' Busy, huh?"

Shina stiffened in the woman’s arms, her face scrunched up in what could only be described as pure agony. You stifled a laugh but quickly regretted it as the woman released Shina and turned toward you and Patricia, her sharp eyes locking onto you.

Before you could react, Patricia shoved you forward and darted toward Shina, leaving you in the crosshairs. The old woman’s grip was strong, pulling you into a hug that felt more like a bear trap than a greeting. You could hear the two girls giggling behind you as they escaped her clutches, leaving you alone at her mercy.

For what felt like hours, you were trapped in a whirlwind of fabric, as Shina and Patricia pulled you from one section of the boutique to another. Dresses, shoes, accessories—Shina practically bought the whole store for you, her way of making the day brighter despite everything.

As the sun began to set, you all piled back into the car, exhaustion settling in. Kenji, who had been nothing but stoic all day, had softened slightly, sharing small bits of conversation with you along the ride. He was one of the royal warriors, you found out—highly respected, and one of the deadliest. Yet, despite his fearsome reputation, there was a kindness to him that you hadn't expected. You also found out that he was yet to find his mate.

The drive back to the palace felt quieter, more solemn, and the closer you got, the heavier your chest became. The fun you’d had during the day was slowly slipping away, replaced by the cold reality of where you were heading. You stared out the window, watching the world outside blur past, feeling the tightness return to your throat.

As the palace gates came into view, you couldn’t help but sigh, the happiness from earlier fading entirely. You didn’t want to go back. You didn’t want to face him again.

But you had no choice.

The car rolled to a stop, and with a deep breath, you stepped out, the weight of the palace settling back on your shoulders.

You stepped out of the car, the weight of the day pressing down on you. The girls had already been swept up by their mates, leaving you alone with Kenji, who gently helped you with the bags. His kind smile softened the growing pit in your stomach, but even Kenji, as sweet as he was, kept his distance. When you reached your room, he handed you the bags, his hands lingering for only a moment before he stepped back, eyes cast down.

"I can’t enter," he said, almost shy. "It’s not right to be alone with an unmated she-wolf."

You nodded, appreciating the respect, even though it only reminded you of your isolation. “Thank you, Kenji,” you murmured.

He gave a small wave before disappearing down the hall, leaving you to the quiet hum of your empty room. The door clicked shut behind you, sealing the silence.

You tossed the bags onto the bed, your eyes drifting over to the box you’d been avoiding all day. That damn purple-wrapped box. With a sigh, you grabbed it, tearing off the wrapper without care. Inside, nestled in velvet, was a delicate heart-shaped necklace, the same shade of purple that always reminded you of him.

But instead of the warmth it once might have brought, a bitter taste rose in your throat. He thought this would fix everything. That after the things he said, the coldness he showed, a necklace could make it all go away? Your fingers tightened around it until your knuckles turned white. The bastard knew—he knew—how much it meant to you when you told him you’d never owned anything expensive. And now, it felt like a cruel joke, like he was throwing your words back in your face.

Without thinking, you stormed out of the room, the necklace clenched in your fist. Your feet carried you down the long corridors to his chambers, each step fueled by the fire burning in your chest. You didn’t care who saw you, or how fast you were moving. You just needed to see him, to confront him.

As you reached his door, hand raised to knock, the sound of voices froze you in place.

"No," Jungkook’s voice boomed from behind the door, the rage in his tone making your breath catch. "I refuse to be tied to her. I didn’t choose this. I don’t love her. I don’t want any of it."

The necklace almost slipped from your grip, the metal cutting into your palm as your heart cracked.

"You need to understand, Kian," Jungkook continued, voice harsher now, "I’m not willing to do this."

"But even the elders want this," Kian replied, his voice softer, almost pleading. "Today, you were lucky she wasn’t here, but how long can you really hide her from the world? One day, you’ll have to accept her."

"Never," Jungkook spat, his voice cutting through the air like a blade.

Kian's next words were too quiet to make out, but they were followed by the unmistakable sound of footsteps heading toward the door. Panic surged through you, but before you could move, the door swung open.

There he was, standing before you—Jungkook. His face paled when he saw your tear-streaked cheeks, his eyes widening in shock. His lips parted as if to say something, but the words died in his throat.

He reached out, the apology already forming on his tongue, but you didn’t wait to hear it.

Without a second thought, you hurled the necklace at his chest, the metal clinking as it hit him and fell to the floor between you. His eyes flicked to the necklace, then back to you, his expression one of helpless guilt.

But you didn’t wait for an explanation. Your feet carried you away, heart pounding, vision blurred by tears. You didn’t stop until the corridor twisted out of sight, and even then, the weight of his words echoed in your mind, breaking you all over again.

As soon as you got to your room, you sank to the ground, your body trembling as you wrapped your arms around your knees. Hot tears streamed down your face, each sob tearing through you like a knife. A different ache settled in your heart, a hollow emptiness that expanded with every breath you took, leaving you feeling more lost and abandoned than ever.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

Jungkook sat rigidly in the chair beside the window, the moonlight spilling over him like a soft embrace, illuminating the sharp lines of his jaw and the furrow in his brow. Shadows danced across his face, mirroring the chaos swirling within him. He stared out into the darkness, eyes unfocused, lost in thoughts he couldn’t bear to confront. The silence in the room was suffocating, thick with unspoken words. A soft knock broke through, and he turned slightly, his voice devoid of emotion. “Come in.”

Kian stepped inside, his usual calm demeanor replaced by an unsettling gloom that weighed on him like a storm cloud. He crossed the room slowly and settled into the chair beside Jungkook. The air thickened with the weight of their unspoken fears.

“What brings you here, Kian?” Jungkook asked, his tone flat, gaze still trapped in the shimmering night sky. He could feel Kian’s eyes on him, probing, searching for answers.

“Why would you do that, Jungkook?” Kian’s voice trembled, breaking the stillness like a fragile glass shattering. He leaned forward, his brow knitted in worry. “why are you doing this? How could you sit here like this? Like nothing happened? She is your mate. You can’t just push her away like that. That’s not how things work, especially not with a mate bond.”

At the mention of you, Jungkook’s gaze snapped to Kian, sharp and defensive. The flicker of vulnerability quickly masked by anger. “What about her?” he demanded, an edge creeping into his voice, the tension coiling tighter in his chest.

“Shina told me Luna has been crying since evening.” Kian’s words were low, heavy with concern, sinking into Jungkook like stones in water. A silence enveloped them, punctuated only by Jungkook’s ragged breaths, as the gravity of Kian’s words settled in.

“Why?” Jungkook found himself asking, the question slipping out before he could stop it, though they both knew the answer. A suffocating heaviness settled in his chest, a mix of guilt and soul crushing swirling within him like a tempest.

“Jungkook, why not just accept the bond? Why—” Kian started, but Jungkook cut him off, frustration bubbling over. He ran a hand through his hair, eyes glinting with an intensity that betrayed his inner turmoil.

“She scares me, Kian,” Jungkook admitted, his voice tight, his jaw clenching as he turned away again. “She’s everything I—” He stopped himself abruptly, the words hanging in the air, unfinished. His fists clenched on his lap, the muscles in his arms tensing as he fought to maintain control.

“What?” Kian pressed, leaning forward, desperate to understand. “Everything you what, Jungkook?”

Jungkook’s face hardened, eyes darkening as the vulnerability retreated behind the walls he had carefully constructed. “Forget it,” he snapped, his voice cold. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Kian shook his head, frustration boiling beneath the surface. He leaned closer, his voice growing intense. “Love hurts above all, but we must never cease to do it. It’s painful, but you can’t run from it, Jungkook.”

“Love?” Jungkook scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping him, but it sounded hollow. “It’s not meant for me, Kian. I hurt everyone. I’m my father’s son, after all.” He leaned back, crossing his arms tightly across his chest, shutting himself off from Kian’s words.

“You’re not him,” Kian insisted, leaning forward, voice filled with passion. “You’re not your father, and she isn’t your mother. She won’t leave, and you won’t end up like him. Jungkook, don’t let bad memories of past ruin the possibilities of your future.” He reached out, almost as if to touch Jungkook’s arm, but hesitated, sensing the emotional wall between them.

“That’s the problem with memories, Kian,” Jungkook said, his voice dropping to a whisper, eyes darkening. “They never go away. They stay with you, and they eat you alive. I can’t forget, and I can’t love.” His words were cold, final, as if sealing his fate.

Kian’s frustration boiled over, his hands clenched into fists as he tried once more. “It’s not just about you, Jungkook. It’s about her too. You can’t keep pushing her away—”

“Leave, Kian,” Jungkook said, his voice sharp, commanding. His back straightened, the gesture almost regal, but the pain behind his eyes betrayed him.

“But Alpha—” Kian’s protest faded as he sensed the finality in Jungkook’s tone. He sat back, his shoulders slumping, disappointment and worry etched into his features.

“I said leave,” Jungkook repeated, turning his back to Kian, the room growing colder as the shadows deepened around him. The moonlight faded into darkness, mirroring the hollow ache in Jungkook’s heart.

Kian stood up slowly, his shoulders sagging with the weight of the conversation. He glanced back at Jungkook, his face tight with concern. “I just hope you don’t regret this, Alpha,” he said quietly, his voice carrying a note of finality. Without waiting for a response, Kian walked to the door, the soft click of it closing behind him echoing in the heavy silence left in his wake.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

"Luna, for how long will you keep crying like this?" Shina's voice was gentle, laced with concern as she knelt beside you, offering a plate of food. She watched as you stared blankly at the untouched meal. Tears streamed down your cheeks, an endless waterfall that had begun with the dawn.

“Please, eat something,” she urged softly, but you could only shake your head, the words lodged in your throat like a stone.

“Why? Can’t he just accept the bond, Shina? Why?” Your voice cracked. Frustration bubbled within you, mingling with the heartache that had you feeling hollow.

Shina placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, but you shrugged it off, the gesture feeling too heavy to bear. “Please leave, Shina,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

She hesitated, searching your face for a glimmer of hope, but all she found were shadows of despair. “No matter how much love you give to a bird with broken wings, it won’t ever make it believe it can fly,” she said, her voice quiet yet firm, her eyes filled with empathy. “And even if it did, isn’t it just death, Luna?”

Her words wrapped around you like a cold shroud, leaving you confused and raw. You opened your mouth to respond, but the weight of her statement silenced you. She rose slowly, the sadness in her eyes mirrored by the heaviness in the air, before she turned and walked away, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You stared at the food plate, your heart aching with the reality of it all. The room felt suffocating, the walls closing in as you fought to suppress the next wave of tears. Each breath felt like a struggle, the silence around you amplifying the sorrow that threatened to drown you.

Okay, so first of all, if you’ve made it this far, wow, congrats on surviving whatever mess I just threw your way. I mean, let's be honest, this is probably one of the most questionable things you've ever had the misfortune of reading. And for that, I truly, sincerely apologize—well, kinda.

But hey, if you're sitting there thinking, "Wow, this is absolute garbage," you're not alone. I get it. I hated it too. So, feel free to tell me just how much you despised every single word of it. I mean, go on, rip it apart. I'm mentally prepared...sort of. Probably. Okay, not really. But let's pretend I am, and we can bond over how truly awful this was. Thanks for sticking around, though. You're a champ.

Taglist @freyaniobe @piercidh34rts @furioustrashlover @lola75111 @pitchblack0309 @whoa-jo @teeheewhy13 @gojoscumslut @emanyd @sassy-snassy @jksusawife @nnnnmmmuuiu @jiminismine4ever @runariya @btspurplesky

[moonlight-prose]

RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

➛ 02. LOST IN TIME AND SPACE

a/n: logan angst with this fic is all i've been thinking about. mainly because he's the kind of man to swallow all of his feelings until it eventually kills him. so that's super fun to work with. and that scenario is basically this entire chapter. so please root for him, but also know he's not even close to dealing with his trauma. also the x-men timeline remains convoluted as fuck, so if the past of the logan who died doesn't make sense it is what it is. this is fanfic and we're all here to fuck him.

summary: the past is a thing he couldn't ignore. yet he still tried. and when the opportunity to spend a day with you utterly alone arises, he realizes that perhaps he doesn't want to forget about what brought him here.

word count: 6.6k+

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: not explicit, angsty as fuck, some fluff, grieving a past he can never have back, logan goes through it, kissing, he's horny, me slightly abusing my literature degree, heartache, panic attacks.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

Logan never liked when the city fell silent. He hated the city in general. It unnerved him; scratched angrily against his chest until he couldn't find the peace he strived for. The city at night was filled with small noises—bangs in the distance, shouts of drunks wasted in the streets, and people finally turning in for the night.

They reminded him of the wars, the echoey expanse of nothing. Where every sound set his teeth on edge.

The cheap leather fabric of the couch stuck to his skin as he turned. He shoved his body into a standing position—his hands curling into fists. His skin remained sticky with a thin layer of sweat which only served to incense him further. Given the apartment's shitty air system, he'd be struggling through this for most of the summer. A fact he tried his best to ignore in the hopes that the fall weather would reveal itself sooner.

With a groan, he stripped himself of the thin tank top that clung to his skin. It didn't help to ease the humidity that hung in the air. It barely helped to cool off his body. But he'd take what he could get when what he could get was so little.

Wade's snoring echoed through the thin walls as he stood there, his body begging for a bit of sleep. Even if his mind refused to shut off. Images of you played through his head on a loop. The past was shadowed in pain, memories dipped in a venom he once wished would kill him eventually. Yet seeing you yesterday—a version that remained untouched by the depravity of what already happened—launched him back into a time that never seemed to be very far behind.

"You weren't there! And they needed you."

Silver ebbed from his knuckles as he faced the window—eyes shut and chest heaving. There was no question the sweat came from the humidity in the air. The cold chill along his spine however stemmed from you.

"You're not the Wolverine Logan. You're just a disappointment."

He fought the snarl that worked its way up his throat. A heavy pounding began to form at the front of his head. A drum he couldn't escape.

"Live with that."

If he opened his eyes. If he refused to give the memories even an inch of space in his mind. He'd have caught you standing there rummaging in the kitchen. A mug of tea forgotten on the counter the second you caught a glimpse of him getting up from the couch. You tugged at your sleep shorts as you stumbled towards the window—eyes heavy with sleep that simply wouldn't come.

Most nights it was easy. Long days at work left you utterly exhausted. To a point where staying awake felt odd and incomplete.

Tonight felt like hell.

No matter how many times you tossed and turned, you couldn't get the thoughts to settle. And all of them seemed to filter their way back to the man who currently faced you—his eyes shut and fists adorned with silver claws that slowly slid their way to freedom. You nearly dropped your kettle when he tore off his shirt, revealing sweat slicked skin lit up by the streetlights outside.

If you were braver you'd ask him to come over, join you in a sleepless night. But he had yet to see you standing there and you weren't one to draw attention to yourself.

So you stood and watched as he fought with whatever must have woken him up so late in the night. You witnessed his battle and wished you could be the one helping him. Maybe then he'd finally fall asleep soundlessly. His mind clear—body free of phantom aches from injuries that still haunted him. He may heal incredibly fast, but the mind...that took far too long to piece itself back together.

Before you could turn away, back to your now cold mug of tea, his eyes opened. Fixating immediately on your form in the window.

Few people in his life were able to calm the thunderous storms he weathered in his own mind. Jean and Charles did what they could. They brought back what he once thought was lost forever. Even you attempted to ease him from what he lived through—what he endured.

But that seemed to be the one thing your variant self was unable to comprehend.

He didn't need someone to fix him. He wanted someone to see him. To understand that there was no cure for a person this broken, no easy way out when things got this bad. He stood before you as a man riddled with far too much—scars that you'd never be able to see—yet he could see no hesitation in your eyes.

Something pulled at his stomach at the sight of you in small shorts and a tank top. Your skin exposed to the city as you watched him carefully. You analyzed him in a way that didn't make him want to put up a facade. And he found he liked it when you looked at him like this; with a burning need to know more clear in your gaze.

Your eyes trailed up his stomach, lingering on the hair that dipped down into his sweats. He wanted you to be here. Or him to be there. The location didn't matter as long as he could reach out and touch you—feel the warmth of your skin beneath his palm.

Minutes passed before your gaze found his face and Logan felt an itch in his body at the notion that you were fascinated by him. That even in a different universe with completely different memories, you couldn't help but be drawn to the man he was.

The horror of destroying another version of you should have made him want to turn away from the window.

Then you smiled.

A slow sleepy grin that lit up your face. You probably didn't think anything of it—simply a small offer of kindness in your shared sleepless night. Logan however swallowed it down as if you'd given him the best tasting whiskey on this planet. His chest tightened, head dazed as you stood there looking with enough reverence to kill him.

If only he could see the way your insides melted at the sight of him smiling back. The thoughts of lust and like racing through your mind the longer you stood there.

Eventually the sun would come up, you'd be called to work, and this would become a brief passing memory you'd both hold onto down the road.

Until that moment though you remained in this spot. Fighting the drowsiness for a chance to watch him a bit longer. To trace your eyes along his body and soak in the expressions that played across his weary face.

You could feel the prick of sleep in your eyes, your body dizzy as it begged for you to finally give in and crawl back into bed. Yet how could you leave him there? How could you walk away?

He seemed to catch the way you bit back a yawn and chuckled. Pressing his hand to the warm window, he nodded at you. To anyone else on the street it might look nonsensical—comical even. To you his message was loud and clear: Go to bed and I'll be here in the morning. I promise.

Reluctance yanked at your heart when he nodded again, his hand falling back to his side. Yet no matter how hard you tried to keep yourself awake—if only to steal another second of his gaze on your body—you knew it was futile. Fighting sleep never went well in the morning when coffee was your only salvation. With another smile, you waved slightly—pressing your hand to the window briefly as if to respond to his silence with some of your own.

Sleep well. I'll find you in the morning. I promise.

Logan woke up to the blaring horn of a taxi right outside. The shout of a man bounced off the buildings, cussing about traffic and for someone to get the fuck out of his way. He groaned, turning to his side in the hopes of catching another thirty minutes. But the city was alive and thrumming with its own heart beat.

To others the echo might have been familiar—peaceful.

To Logan it was like nails being dragged along a chalkboard.

"I fuckin' hate this city," he growled, getting to his feet and snatching his tank top from where he'd left it last night.

Surprisingly the apartment rang out with a sound he had yet to experience in this place. Silence. He peeked in the bedrooms briefly, expecting to find Wade still passed out. An empty room was all that greeted him—the fucking stuffed unicorn propped up perfectly on a surprisingly made bed. There was only one reason Wade tidied up his room.

Vanessa.

She was coming by here or Wade was going with her. Either way Logan didn't want to be around to hear what came next. He'd been privy to one too many nights of Wade reconciling his differences with Vanessa and all of them ended with Logan's head beneath a pillow. That or he snuck out to wander the city at night until he finally returned to a quiet apartment.

For a brief moment he wondered if he could find you at your place; his eyes settled on the view of your window across the one way street. The lights looked off, the living room empty. And he craved to know where in this city you disappeared to during the day. Where did you work?

Would you mind if he visited you there? If he took some time to hear your voice, see your smile.

He grabbed the shitty coffee bag that was tossed on the counter. No doubt due to Wade making some this morning. The machine was old, nearly broken, but it would make do for the time being. A neon yellow sticky note was stuck to the top—the scrawl of Wade's handwriting familiar.

Good morning peanut! Coffee is hot like you. Don't call me. Don't beep me. Because you don't need to reach me today. If you do, I'm at Ness's scoring for tens all across the board. I'm talking the head—

Logan groaned, crumpling the note and tossing it on the counter. Knowing information that Wade would probably tell him anyways wasn't how he wanted to start his afternoon. The cabinet creaked as he opened it, the plain blue mug he claimed as his sat in the front.

Another yellow sticky attached to it.

OF CHAMPIONS. I knew you wouldn't finish reading the note you gorgeous Canadian/Australian bastard.

P.S. Sweet angel's number. I was told to give it to you.

P.P.S. GET. SOME. (For the both of us.)

A crude drawing of Deadpool fucking the air was scribbled in the corner. The details were far too graphic for him to look at longer than a few seconds. Logan would have tossed the entire mug in the trash, but your number enticed him to stick it to the fridge as he made coffee strong enough to make the hair stand up on his arms. He glanced at it every few minutes, tracing the numbers as he considered what this meant.

Was this you telling him in simple terms that you wanted to get to know him? That his past and whatever he buried was something you wanted to learn.

His gaze burned a hole into the yellow paper as he drank his coffee, his mind racing at the possibility of speaking to you today. Some cash was stowed in the trunk Laura dragged from the previous Logan's home. Her claim was that he deserved to have it. Since he might have understood what it meant more than she did.

From what he could tell this universe's Logan was saving up for something—the wad of cash in the bottom of the trunk remained enough for him to get by until he found a stable place to set up a home. Somewhere near the mansion that still existed. He wasn't prepared to be a part of that life again just yet, but that remained the only spot that felt like home to him.

Even in a different universe.

Snatching the note off the fridge he grabbed his flannel, boots, and enough cash to last through the day. He had no location in mind. But knowing you wanted to spend time with him became the motivator he needed to actually leave the apartment.

The city was bursting with life—sounds filling the air as if it would replace the oxygen they consumed. He did what he could to ignore it. Slipping past people with ease, his eyes fixed on the small store that sat on the corner. He debated on ordering from the cafe across the street, wondering if you liked the place. If you came here for coffee and breakfast on days off.

He made a note to ask.

Thankfully the shop wasn't crowded with people—a shitty pop song blasted over the speakers. One he knew Wade would play to piss off your next door neighbors. Whether or not you actually liked Wade's music taste never crossed his mind. Or did you go along with it? Willing to do what it took to make them suffer.

"Just this," he grunted, tossing enough cash down to cover the bill and then some.

The burner phone was small in his palm as he yanked it out of the box and flipped it on. He didn't bother with getting an actual phone. What the fuck did he need that for? But this...he could do to make you entering his life a bit easier.

Every part of him screamed to push you away—make you hate him—but for the first time in his life, Logan didn't listen.

The shop door swung shut behind him as he dug out the sticky note, punching your number in carefully to not miss a single digit. Somehow in the midst of chaos, he was able to shut off the city noise when the phone began to ring. Half of him expected you not to answer. It was the middle of the day, you were at work, and this was probably more a hindrance than anything else.

Your voice filtering through the small speaker put his worries at ease within seconds.

"Hello?"

His heart jumped as he exhaled. "I hear you gave Wade directions this morning."

"Logan?" you asked, voice louder than before. The echo of someone shushing you came through, making him smile.

"Hey Honey."

A shaky breath left your lips. Logan felt his stomach clench at the realization you liked when he called you that.

"I didn't know you had a phone," you replied, much softer than before. "Wade told me you were too old for technology."

"Don't listen to anything that mouth tells you."

You laughed, breathy and cute, and he bit back a groan at the sound. "I'm glad he was wrong."

"He normally is."

"Where are you today?" Shuffling and a door shutting caught his attention as your voice rose in volume again.

A horn went off beside him, piercing his hearing. "Standin' on the street."

"Near our places?"

Oh he liked the sound of that. "Mhm." Another soft breath reached his ears; he felt his body go warm. "Where are you today honey?"

"Work." If he could see through the call, he'd catch you smiling. How your teeth dug into your bottom lip to stop the embarrassing giggle that nearly spilled free. "Do you...um...do you want to see it?"

The words slammed into his chest like a truck. The innuendo nearly enough to make him drop to one knee here in the middle of the street. And suddenly Wade's note came back to his mind. The crude drawing flaring to life as he pictured you saying those exact words in an entirely different situation. If he was a better man his jeans wouldn't have tightened. If he was a better man he'd have ignored it altogether.

Logan wished he was a better man. You longed for him not to be.

He cleared his throat, his grip tightening around the phone. "Where?"

"New York Public Library."

Vaguely the directions came back to him from decades past. He wondered if the building sat in the same spot on this universe as his own. In a rush of words, you gave him some instruction. He agreed to be there as soon as he could.

"See you soon Logan." The excitement wasn't hard to pick from your voice. That still didn't stop him from trying.

"Wait–"

"Yes?"

He turned. "Rosemary's? You like their coffee?"

Another laugh escaped you in a breath and Logan felt the walls around his heart chip. "Love."

Twenty minutes later you were greeting him on the side of the building with a smile he felt down to his adamantium bones. A warm coffee was pressed into your hand, a sandwich tucked safely into a small paper bag in the other. For the entire afternoon he formulated things to say to you, stories to tell. Yet all that came now was an awkward smile and a greeting that made his chest burn uncomfortably.

You thought nothing of it. Even as you led him inside and asked him about his morning. The sight of him holding coffee and wearing a grin was enough for you to lose it a little. The breath knocking from your lungs, warmth spilling into your stomach.

"I didn't know what you wanted–"

Taking another sip, you grinned at the glimpse of red that dusted the tips of his ears. "I don't mind what you got."

A stain of soft pink remained on the cup; Logan's eyes attached to it within seconds. You could see the way his pupils dilated slightly—his throat bobbing at the sight of something so small and delicate. That didn't help the way your heart flipped whenever he was near. As if he'd taken control of all your emotions—all the baseline wants that you could normally ignore.

"What do you do here?" he rasped, focusing on the way you watched him. Though the glaze of sleep was gone from your eyes, the way you analyzed him still remained.

"Archives."

Unlocking another door, you led him down a flight of stairs. The elevator would have been the easier route, but he didn't possess a badge nor a library card. You were pretty sure he wouldn't have gotten one either way. So sneaking him in was the way to go until you could convince him otherwise. What you didn't know was that you could have asked anything of him—anything you wanted—and he'd agree without hesitation.

He followed close behind, unwilling to let you get a few feet away. As if he was drawn to you in ways that didn't seem possible.

"I work on making sure things are properly placed in the correct spot. Older books, newspapers from decades ago, stuff like that."

Humming, he watched as you opened the final door—letting him see the grand room that lay below filled with an infinite row of bookcases. Boxes that had yet to be gone through, files not placed properly, and piles of books that stacked on rows of tables. Each one contained a certain label of where they belonged.

"So a librarian?"

Laughing, you shut the door behind him with a soft click. "Kind of. I'm not working upstairs and handing out books like the actual librarians do. We hermits down in the basement prefer the term archivist."

"Hermits," he huffed. "You don't look like a hermit to me."

"Looks can be deceiving Logan."

That was a fact he knew too well. One that kept him up at night, replayed in his dreams without end. Oftentimes he wondered if he'd been the one to deceive. If his persona and reluctance to help gave others the impression that he was the man to turn to. The hero they needed. He never asked to be seen that way—never wanted it—yet when the time came...he couldn't run away from the truth.

The idea of telling you all this came to him last night as he watched you walk back to your room.

What stopped him was the image of the other you, grief stricken and horrified as he stumbled home from the bar.

"I have some questions for you." Your voice pulled him from his thoughts.

The small table in the back was free of books and you took a seat, pulling your sandwich from the paper. He took the chair across from you, his legs bumping into yours as he tried to cram them in the small space. The apology was quick to land on his tongue. Although your smile and the feel of your ankle curving around his leg killed it instantaneously.

"I'm hoping you have some answers."

He swallowed thickly, ignoring the way you shifted—your knee brushing his. "Now that depends."

"On?"

"Are they easy questions?" He grinned at the way you spoke around your mouthful of food—intrigue lighting up your eyes.

You slid half the sandwich towards him, not pretending to see the way he tried to refuse. He took a bite when your foot jammed in his calf. A pointed look crossing your face as if to say: eat because I know you haven't.

"What am I like?"

He nearly choked on the bread. "Do you mean..."

With a nod, you grabbed another bite, oblivious to the way his tongue swiped along his bottom lip. His eyes fixed on the way your teeth sunk into the meal and oil spread at the corner of your mouth. Tearing the sandwich in half would have been the better option. Biting where he mouth was seemed to be what you liked better.

His insides stirred deliciously, heat forming at the way your lashes fluttered at the taste.

"The other me," you mumbled, giving him the rest. "You said we were friends." When he didn't respond you kept going. "Wade alluded that we might have been...more than friends."

Fucking Wade Wilson.

Logan leaned back, his hand curling into fists in his lap as he once again fought the urge to take off. "He sure likes to run his goddamn mouth."

Anxiety sparked in your chest and you fell silent. Perhaps it wasn't the right time to bring it up. Or even something to bring up. Yet curiosity always ate you alive—the idea of not knowing the full truth. And when Wade briefly said Logan was still pining over a version of you that didn't exist on this Earth, you tried not to let it consume you.

You fought against your baser instincts in the hopes that one day he'd tell you himself.

Then he showed up. Offering you coffee and friendship and possibly more.

How could you ignore it then?

You knew he was watching you, could feel the burn of his eyes along the side of your face. Silence echoed loudly in the room as the old wooden bookshelves creaked and the chatter of people upstairs began to filter down below.

"I'm sorry," you uttered, doing what you could to move past whatever this was. "I shouldn't have asked. We can go look at some stuff if you want. I have newspapers from the seventies you might want to see–"

"I loved you."

You froze, head whipping around to meet his solemn gaze.

"On my Earth you were mine." With a sigh, he leaned forward. "And I fucked it all up. No I didn't just fuck it up. I ruined you."

"Logan..." you breathed. "I'm not them."

"I know." Sorrow flooded his hazel eyes—the grief playing across his face like a film you shouldn't be watching. And for the first time...you saw the man Wade spoke about. The broken version of a Logan that was found in a bar wallowing on his own world. "But I can't do that to you again. I won't."

This wasn't an omission of the truth. Nor a confession of his greatest sins. This was a promise lined with the guilt of his past. Memories of a time you'd never witness played out in his mind and he longed to show them to you.

To give you a piece of what he once had with a version of you that loathed his existence now.

But that isn't why he happened upon you on this Earth. History would remain exactly as it was. He couldn't change that. However, this—whatever he shared with you now��he could keep safe. The promise he made so long ago might finally be shown the respect he never thought to give it before.

"Come with me," you said softly, standing with a hand outstretched for him to take.

With a hesitant breath, he wrapped his calloused palm around yours and let you take the lead.

Past bookshelves and rows of boxes stacked nearly to the ceiling, you stopped at a shelf marked with words he'd seen a thousand times before. X-MEN. You tugged a box free and carried it to the table behind you—the top flipping open with ease as he caught sight of the pile of papers within. A list was taped to the side of what this might contain. Names he knew, people that might still exist on this Earth.

"This is all we know about the Logan in this universe." You pulled out a file, a picture of his variant clipped on top. He was rugged—aged.  "It's not much, but it shows a bit of his past."

"Why are you showing me this?"

"So you can see what others see."

You handed him a photo of the X-Men. Jean and Scott stood on either side of Charles. Logan was off to the side, a cigar in his mouth and a cocksure grin on his lips. He hated the man before he knew him. Always hearing how fucking wonderful he was; how great a hero he used to be.

He selfishly wanted to be everything this version of himself was.

He wanted to be the hero he could never amount to.

"What happened to 'em?"

You glanced at the image, pulling another file out. The name punched the breath from his lungs as you flipped it open. JEAN GREY: ALIAS - PHOENIX. An image of her smiling at a lecture was pulled free—her hair red and down to her waist.

"I don't know much, because well Charles Xavier never disclosed information about the X-Men lightly. But...something happened to her. From what we know...Logan was the one to kill her."

The file fell on the table, his heart twisting violently in his chest as the words flooded his mind. He killed her. He killed Jean. The woman he once loved before you came into his life. Something severed in his body, the breath in his lungs was suddenly hard to come by. But the touch of your hand on his kept him from completely falling into that dark pit he fought to climb out of.

"He–" Logan sucked in a breath and shut his eyes to the image of Jean. "He killed her?"

You nodded, silent while he processed the information. Showing this to him wasn't an act of malice—he knew that. You didn't want him to suffer. You simply wanted to prove that the Logan that once existed wasn't the greatest to have ever lived. He was simply a man suffering the plight of guilt the universe handed him.

He had his own cross to bear. His own nightmares to fight through.

In some ways...they weren't so different.

"You're not the worst Logan," you admitted, letting him lean into you. "And he wasn't the best Logan." Your hand pressed to his cheek, eyes soft and warm. "He was just a man who was offered a terrible hand in life."

Logan huffed, his forehead finding yours as he breathed in your scent. "So you're sayin' I'm just a man?"

"I'm saying that the James Howlett in this universe probably thought he was the worst Logan too."

The words shouldn't have struck him the way they did. Their truth, louder than anything in this building. But the blunt and hardened reality stared him in the fucking face, and he had no choice but to meet it's gaze. The Logan of this world wasn't perfect. He fucked up. He ruined things. Yet he found a way to fix them. Put the pieces back together in order to obtain something that resembled the image of his life.

As much as he fought to claim he wasn't anything like the Logan that once walked this Earth.

He was finding it hard to see where they differed.

"Show me somethin' happy honey," he replied gruffly, his hand finding your hip with ease. "Show me somethin' you like."

The smile you rewarded him with placed some breath back into his chest. "What like books?"

"If that's what you love."

"I don't think we have enough time."

His hold on your hip tightened. "'M here all day."

"Yeah?" Turning away from him, you dug through the box. Down to the very bottom. "They found these at what they think is his grave."

Silver flashed in his vision before you were pressing a pair of dog tags into his hand. The name WOLVERINE was etched into the metal—its cold touch practically burned the skin of his palm. For years he thought he'd never see these again. A piece of his past he couldn't bring with him.

"I thought you'd want to have them."

"They're his," he croaked.

"And you're the Wolverine. They're as much yours as they were his."

Fingers closed around them as the chains dangled from his hand, and Logan felt his heart place another bit back into the correct spot. He never believed he belonged with people. Never wanted to hurt them. Yet life continued to surprise him. The metal was familiar to his touch. Years of toying with them, of having their comfort on his chest, kept him sane at some points. It helped to remind him of who he was.

Without even realizing it...you gave that back to him.

He wanted to tell you how much this meant. How grateful he felt. But he was never good with words.

So he pressed his lips to your cheek and let them linger there as heat pulsed in your body. The race of your heart made him grin. Simply knowing you liked him hiked up his ego in ways he didn't need at a time like this. But like the Logan that came before...he was a sucker when it came to resisting the aspect of love.

"Show me around bub."

You slid your hand into his, your lips nearly brushing as you turned to catch his gaze. "Okay."

"Why work there?"

The city at night exuded a different kind of energy that you frequently craved during the day. A fun lightness that normally hit when the clock struck six p.m. and people were finally out of work. You were allowed to leave earlier than expected due to a birthday gathering of coworkers going on downtown.

An invitation was offered. Until they saw Logan standing behind you and your plans for the night became clear.

"I love history." He offered to walk you home. You accepted on the single condition that he'd stay for dinner. "How humanity went from one thing to the next and so on."

He scoffed and wrapped an arm around your waist to keep you out of the way of someone barreling by. "You don't have to explain that part to me bub. You're lookin' at a man who lived it."

"Did you?" The look you gave him had the feelings of want he pushed down earlier rearing their head. "Actually live through it?"

"I was born in 1832."

With a gasp, you clutched his arm. "Were you really?" you exclaimed. "That means you saw so much of history. Things we might not have written down."

And suddenly within moments...there you were from his world. Bright and beautiful and in love with the past. At first he believed it was due to your abilities; now he understood that's just who you were deep down. Always in love with what you couldn't fully figure out—the past you could see if you managed to travel back far enough.

"You have to let me pick your brain for facts."

He tugged you closer, stopping off to the side of the busy street, until you were stuck in his hold with nowhere to look but up at him. "Picking my brain ain't gonna be fun honey."

Your eyes were wide, lips parted slightly. "I disagree."

"You forget. Different universe. The history I know might be different from the one you know."

No matter how hard you tried, you could never hide the disappointment that flooded your eyes. "I'm sure it's not that different."

"Hm." He pressed a thumb to the top of your cheekbone, struck by how soft your skin felt beneath his. "Why don't you tell me yours. And then maybe I'll tell you mine."

The double entendre was layered in the lust that clouded his vision—the need that burned in his stomach. Logan hoped you understood it. Could see how much he ached for you. How you affected him since he first caught a glimpse of you yesterday. And seeing your pupils dilate, your chest heaving slightly, made his swell with pride. Saliva filled his mouth at the thought of one day getting a taste of you, but the sound of a horn going off behind him shattered the moment.

You stepped back with a deep inhale, your hand still in his. Which only served to prove Logan's point.

He fucking hated the city.

"Dinner?" you breathed, voice raspy with that feeling you tried to fight against.

Logan managed to turn you inside out. Pulling exactly where he needed to expose your heart. That alone should have terrified you. Yet the thrill of knowing him, of seeing where this might lead, kept you enamored and wanting for more.

"Lead the way."

What plans you created and meal you planned to order were lost the second you ascended the stairs to your apartment and stood in front of your door. The silence of the building was deafening compared to the noise outside. So much so that every breath you took echoed loud against the shitty yellow stained walls. Logan could hear the thump of your heart as it rammed within your chest. Quickening the closer he stepped towards you.

You turned, your back to the door and eyes dazed—unfocused. "I can order something."

His nostrils flared as your familiar scent began to deepen, mix with the arousal that seeped through your body. "That could work."

"What do you like to eat?"

The smile he gave you could only be described as canine. Near feral. "Dangerous question honey."

"What do you–" Shock flashed in your eyes, heat spilling into your face as the words finally processed. "Oh."

Logan wasn't hungry in a way that might seem normal to you. He didn't want to taste you, he wanted to devour. To feel you in ways that would scare you shitless. He craved you potently—viscerally. And perhaps it would scare you off.

Although something told him it wouldn't.

Silence no longer felt all consuming and horrid when he took one more step, crowding you against your door. You should have kept the conversation going. Laughed it off with a flippant smile and an offer of real food. Though neither of you could give a shit about dinner. That fact became evident the second he cupped the back of your neck and slotted his lips against yours.

A moan of surprise tore from your throat and Logan let out a growl to match. He kissed you fervently. Lips pressed hard and hot against yours, tongue sliding along your teeth, and somehow it never felt like enough. He'd dreamed of this for years. For the taste of you again, the gentle grip of your hands that dug into his hair and pulled.

That alone sent a groan echoing down the hallway, his body colliding with yours as your back hit the door. Your teeth found his bottom lip while his hands slid down to your ass, gripping and tugging until you could feel the prominent bulge through the denim of his jeans.

"Logan," you gasped, your tongue meeting his with another sharp tug on hair.

He slammed a hand against the door beside your head, his hips rutting down as you met the movement with one of your own. You wanted to drag him inside. Needed to feel his bare skin on yours. But something pulled tight against your chest as he stuttered into the kiss. The unfamiliar sound of his claws sliding out and puncturing the wood of your door made you jump.

"Sorry," he muttered, sliding his lips down your throat—teeth nipping the vein. "Happens."

"You owe me a door." You sounded breathless.

He brought his lips back to yours with a fury you'd never experienced before. "I'll buy you a new one." Your hips dragged along his, nails digging into the hot skin on the back of his neck. "I’ll fuckin’ make you one," he snarled.

The thought of someone passing by, seeing you nearly held up against your door by a man who's claws were embedded in it, was laughable. Yet you couldn't stop wondering what would happen if you let this go further. If you allowed him to take you right here out in the open.

Logan could smell the way you dripped for him and it drove him fucking insane. His body begged him to keep going. To slam open the door and bury himself in you right there on your kitchen floor. The way you whined into his mouth, rubbing yourself along his crotch, told him you wanted the same.

And he might have done just that.

If they hadn't started.

They're dead because of you!

Memories flashed in his mind with a rage unlike the past few times. Your face, tear stained and rageful. The way you used your powers against him. Tried to kill him for what happened. It all came rushing back with a lungful of air that burned.

I hate you!

"Logan?" You pulled back slightly, hands cupping his face with enough care he could feel the sting of tears start to build. "Are you okay?"

It should've been you that died Logan. Not them.

He sucked in a breath, ripping himself away from and stumbling a few steps back. Fighting against the past wasn't new to him. He'd been broken by it before. But now he couldn't even enjoy the sight of you with swollen lips and ruffled clothes, because all he saw when he closed his eyes was the other you.

The one he broke.

"I'm fine." His voice was raspy as he choked out the words.

A need to help him rang through your body and Logan could see it. He knew how badly you wanted to come to him—to hold him. This simply wasn't your battle to fight. He refused to change that in any way.

Standing up straight, he pressed a kiss to your forehead. An apology for the actions he was about to take.

He only hoped you wouldn't hate him for it afterwards.

"We'll do dinner another night, honey."

"Logan–"

"Goodnight." Walking away from you felt as if he'd ripped a hole in his chest with an adamantium bullet. One that wouldn't heal like before.

The dog tags were now wrapped around his neck, choking him like a collar he couldn't free himself from. A reminder that even the Logan of this world was unable to stop himself from destroying the one he loved. That was the plight they carried.

Their greatest grief. The one thing they had in common.

This...he could accept.

[m-ilkiee]

Monsters: Mikey Sano x Reader x Izana Kurokawa

Chapter 2: Shots Fired

series summary: your grievous sin was Emma standing up for you to her brothers. and now you’re going to pay the heavy price for destroying their perfect family dynamic.

chapter summary: Izana Kurokawa demands your attention and he doesn’t take no for an answer. Not even when his demands are outrageous.

cw: DARK CONTENT, MISOGYNY, NSFW, r*pe mention, religious guilt, depictions of PTSD and CPTSD, emotional incest, abandoment issues, violence, revenge porn, depression, filming without consent, drugging, implied domestic abuse, victim blaming, blackmailing, manipulation, gaslighting, mind break, psychological torture, use of firearms

r-18+ (not suitable for 17 and under)

wc: 11.6k

[masterlist] [chapter 1] [chapter 3] [taglist]

a/n: likes are nice, comments and reblogs with comments are superior, anons are also superior too and would make me update faster cause it means people like what i write. this chapter takes an entirely different turn from the old story, some scenes are similar but the context is different. i host polls after this so stay tuned. Edit 02/11/2024: this chapter's end has been edited and changed. I've indicated the edited point, so that you could skip other parts to read it. Thank you.

 YOU haven’t been able to stay asleep for the past few days.

It’s easy to fall asleep after a hard and stressful day at school and your part-time job. Your limbs ache from all the walking and lugging a bookbag far heavier than what you could handle -since all your e-textbooks were on your (now destroyed) laptop and phones were not allowed during lectures. And working from 5pm until 9pm at a restaurant, serving food to rude, overbearing customers only to be paid in pieces was another added stress in itself.

Not to mention, studying until the words are bleary and just looking at a book hurts your eyes.

But then, in all your dreams, everything you’ve pushed to the back of your memory is at the forefront. Your dream starts typically, your normal school day, waking up, dressing in your cute little blue crop sweater and jean skirt with socks. You go to classes, and then you see Mikey’s car waiting for Emma.

Things take a different turn. He’s the one getting out of the car to meet you. It’s like a siren call, him holding out his hand for you to take despite someone screaming for you to stop. You try to reject him, try to run away like the voice said but you end up getting trapped. This time, he’s not using his hands. He’s fully sheathed inside you, robbing you of the thing you hold so dear while you kick, bite and claw at him until you wake up screaming, sweat soaked all over your sheets.

You consistently dream of being violently raped by Manjiro Sano.

The next few hours until sunrise were equally horrible. You’re quietly sobbing into your pillows, praying to God to forgive you for letting Mikey touch you in the first place, assuming your reason for having such dreams was God’s divine judgement for your grievous sin. You’ve lost count on how many Bible verses you stay up reading until your eyes are bleary and the sun comes up.

No matter how much you pray and how many times you recite psalms 127 before you sleep, you can never escape Mikey in the world of dreams. He’s a virus that has invaded your thoughts, corrupting every dream you had and twisted them into nightmares.

You don’t know how long you can hold on being this sleep deprived. It’s been impairing your school life, trying to find a way to stay awake during classes only for you to fall asleep and miss the rest of it. Even when you got notes from the person next to you, reading them was always difficult because your eyes hurt so much.

Work was even more taxing and stressful, rush week adding more stress than you could ever imagine. You found yourself spacing out more than usual when you were supposed to be taking orders. You were unable to keep up with the fast paced environment, your body feeling like a ton of bricks with every moment you make. Your eyes were heavy lidded, tired from forcing them open throughout the day.

You were so, so tired-

“Hello! Are you sleeping on me young lady?” A voice snapped at you.

Your eyes shot open and immediately you stood back straight. You must have been dozing off while taking the older lady’s order -the very thing you’ve been trying to avoid all day long. “No, not at all Ms-” you started to explain. “-I was just … what was your order aga-”

You flinched when the woman angrily slammed her fist on the table, shutting you up instantly! “So you were sleeping on the job! What kind of establishment allows this?” She screamed, attracting the attention of customers around. “I need to speak to your manager. NOW!”

You instantly began to panic at the mention of your manager. If he heard any of this, he was definitely going to fire you. You cannot afford to lose this job right now, with all your school expenses and saving up money for next session’s tuition.

“No mam!” you begged, keeping your voice even as you tried to reason with her. “Th-there’s no need for that! Please! Let me take your order and I’ll-” you racked your brain for an excuse, knowing fully well your establishment does not offer free meals. “- I’ll pay for your meal! On me-”

“So you’re trying to imply I’m poor?” She interrupted you again, her tempo even higher than before. “You disrespectful little wretch! How dare you? GET ME YOUR MANAGER RIGHT NOW!”

You started begging the older woman, trying to calm her down and de-escalate the situation, but each plea only fuelled her rage. By now, every customer, every employee and just anyone in that place watched you grovel and beg this woman to calm down, some people even videoing your altercation. Your body was trembling as she screeched in your ears, calling you all sorts of names while you relentlessly apologised to her.

“What is going on here?”

You winced at the sound of your manager’s voice emerging from the backrooms. You stood stiffly as he walked to your side, using his shoulder to nudge you out of the way. “Is there something wrong Ms.?” He asked the lady. “What happened?”

“This little wretch!” She practically screeched at you, her finger wagging straight at your hung face. “She was sleeping while I was ordering! And when I pointed it out to her calmly, she called me a hag!”

Your eyes snapped open. You can tolerate people yelling at you, but lying is out of the question. “I did not call you anything! That’s a lie-”

“You be quiet!” Your manager yelled at you, silencing you. He turned to face the woman again, apologising profusely for your so called rude behaviour. “I promise you mam, she will be dealt with accordingly. Your order is in the house, please take that as a token of our humble apology and forgive us.”

You stood there in shock as the woman smirked satisfactorily at her now free meal. “Well, you better get rid of her!” She snarked, eyes scanning you up and down, plopping back down on her seat. “Or you’ll lose me as a patron.”

“Of course mam.” He said sweetly before switching his countenance towards you into a more irritated one. “You, come with me.”

You lowered your head once again in disappointment as you started following your manager towards the back rooms, your head lowered in shame as the eyes followed your every move to your damnation waiting for you in the manager’s office.

Your skin crawled as you felt his penetrating gaze on you, as if judging you. “You know how many complaints I have received this week just from you, (name)? How many orders you’ve messed up?”

You shook your head no in response, not trusting yourself to say anything reasonable at this point. He eyes you up and down again before scoffing at you rudely. “I only let you stay here because you said you were desperate for a job. But apparently, you’re not even bothered enough to keep it.” He spat out. “Unfortunately for you, this is the end of the road for you here. Change out of your uniform and leave.”

“But s-”

“I said you’re FIRED. GET OUT.”

You sighed weakly, obeying your now ex-manager’s order and leaving the office. You ignored the eyes of everyone watching you exchange the too tight black jeans and green top uniform back to your white bohemian skirt and light blue top with your white jacket. Calmly, you packed your school bag and everything you owned with you and slung it over your shoulder, replacing the uniform back to the locker, dropping the key on top.

No one said goodbye to you as you left through the back door.

  IZANA knows it's creepy to be waiting for Emma just outside her college, but it's not like he has a choice when she keeps ignoring any method he uses to contact her.

Mindlessly, he fiddled with his lighter with his back on the wall of the English department building and an unlit cigarette between his lips. Purple eyes scanned the people leaving the building one by one, hoping to find a mop of golden hair amongst the students. His hopes rose with each blond he saw, only for him to deflate when he realised they weren't her.

A few minutes passed and still no sign of Emma. Deciding that he didn’t want to stand around and gape, Izana lifted his lighter towards his cigarette, flicking the light twice and bringing the warm flame to his lips. Breathing in the familiar scent of nicotine, smoke filled his lungs as he tucked the lighter back in his pockets. His free hand took the cigarette from his lips and he exhaled, releasing plumes of smoke from his lips.

His smoking habit had gotten worse within the past week. Izana couldn’t help it, reaching for a light anytime he saw his gifts in the dustbin. Emma hasn’t been this angry at him before. Usually a new plushie was enough to wash his sins clean, no matter how grevious they were. Now, not even the most expensive shoes she’s been eyeing for months could satiate her anger.

All because of you.

Izana knows his little sister like the back of his hand. Like how she loved sleeping with plushies because it comforted her whenever their mother brought her gambling friends into the house and they were loud. Or how he picked up a guitar to learn multiple barbie songs because their mother had destroyed Emma’s CD that he bought with his money to punish her. He knew she liked warm tea during her periods and gentle back rubs to ease her pain. He’s not the best person to be around, with how fucked over he was by life until Shinichiro gave him purpose but he loved his sister a lot and everything he did was to protect her. Life hardened him, made him so jaded that the only thin thread connecting him to his humanity was Emma and he’d do anything to protect his humanity.

Only to watch it slip through his fingers.

First it was Mikey’s stupid friend, Ken Ryugi, who waltzed his way into Emma’s life. Izana didn’t like him one bit- didn’t like how Emma would bite her lip, waiting for him to reply and cry herself to sleep when he didn’t. Her heart was soft, fragile and that brute tore it apart by telling her he wasn’t interested in a relationship yet.

The only reason Ken wasn’t in an unmarked, shallow grave in the middle of nowhere was simply because Mikey was involved.

Now it is you, taking the space in her life that belonged to him and Mikey. You’re pushing both of them out of the equation, threatening their position in their sister’s life and everything they know.

Izana wonders how someone so insignificant was so important to Emma that she was willing to cut communications with her own brothers. It baffles him beyond understanding and at the same time enrages him that she could trust you so easily. That she was willing to turn against him in your name.

He took more puffs, skimming throughout the campus for any sight of her. It didn’t matter how he felt about it, as Kisaki had convinced him to ask Emma and you to go shopping, just to get back into Emma's good graces again. Apparently doing a nice gesture publicly for you would convince their sister to give them another chance again.

Especially because Izana had been the biggest opposition to their friendship.

“But Mikey was a little shit about them too.” he grumbles underneath his breath, cigarette in hand. “Why do I have to be the one to apologise? And why did Mikey get an out while I’m doing all the heavy lift-”

His thoughts were cut short the second he caught sight of a familiar blonde hair bouncing in the wind and stood up straight, tossing the cigarette to the floor and crushing it underneath his black shoes, before rushing to catch up to his little sister.

Izana pushed through the throng of people, violently shoving anyone that got in his way until he finally fell in step with her, slowing down to match her pace. Without wasting time, his hand curled around the girl’s wrist, stopping her in her tracks instantly and earning a shocked gasp escaped her lips.

“Get off me - Izana?”

Her free hand was fast to hit him, but her head was faster in turning around, only to recognize it was just Izana. Her hand stopped inches away from the smirking male’s face, the tension leaving her body and relief taking its place. It doesn’t last long, though as irritation suddenly crawls on her face, instantly displeased at his actions. “What the hell? I’ve told you to stop doing that.” she hissed at him.

A mischievous grin made its way to his face at Emma’s irritation. She always had a pout whenever she was angry at him and it made look even more adorable.

“Were you scared?” He teased, pulling Emma closer to him until she was practically smushed at his side, despite the glare she gave him in response. “You know no one would dare touch you.”

“Get off me. Your breath stinks like nicotine, I thought you said you quit smoking that shit.”

Ignoring Emma’s last question, he decided to change the topic. “Your lapdog isn't here with you?” he asked. Usually, you would be hovering behind her like a damn pest, so you not being around her was rather strange. 

Emma is quick to shove him off lightly, putting some distance between the two of them, clearly still mad at him. "(Name)'s not feeling well, so she didn't come to class today. I'm on my way to get her medicine."

Oh, that's a surprise.

But with you out of the way, Izana could finally have Emma all to himself for today and hang out with his beloved sister. Maybe even make up for the party thing without apologising to you. Without you here, it’s likely Emma isn’t as mad at the whole situation and is playing it up to make you feel like you have someone on your side.

He knows you’re not going to protest if Emma says she’s in talking terms with her brothers again. It’s a win-win situation and he doesn’t have to grovel or ask for forgiveness for some joke that went wrong.

"So that means we can hang out?"

"Excuse me?"

"You don't have to keep pretending you're still mad at me now that she isn't here." He spews the 'she' with so much venom it could kill, before switching up with a sick grin, his hand stretched out. "We can go to Vivienne Westwood and get that Saturn necklace you like, what do you say?"

His words hung in the air as Emma trailed her pointed glare from his hand, back to his cheerful visage. She crossed her arms in response slowly, her yellow eyes burning holes into his face as her lips curled into a sick sneer.

“Are you insane?”

“What?”

“Don’t ‘what?’ me Izana! I just told you (name)'s ill and you're asking me to go with you to shop at Vivienne westwood? Are you nuts?”

Emma’s voice was loud enough to garner wandering eyes of other by-standers, watching the event go down. Izana kept his composure, despite his bubbling irritation beneath the surface of his skin, with a smile -albeit stiffer than before. ‘She’s just being emotional’ Izana whispered to himself, still trying to be rational. ‘Just take it easy with her’

“Oh come on, should I care about her-"

"You should be begging her to forgive you for what you did to her that night!"

"You can't still be mad at me for that shit that happened two weeks ago. And besides, it's not my fault she couldn't take a joke” his words were smooth, buttery, flowing out of his lips like it was the truth, digging his own grave. “I didn’t know your friend was that sensitive-”

“Are you listening to the bullshit coming from your mouth?” Emma roared, her voice echoing throughout the entirety of the department, her face red with fury. Izana had never seen his own beloved sister ever look at him with such disgust in her eyes, her teeth gnashing against each other and hands at her side, clenching against each other. “Is that what you think a joke sounds like?”

“Calm the fuck dow-”

“No wonder you’re fucking single, you’re such a piece of shit to anyone that isn’t Shinichiro!” Emma screamed, interrupting Izana once again, her temper fiery enough to burn a hole on the ground she stood with how heated she was. “How does anyone even stand you for so long? You’re unbearable!”

“Excuse m-”

He doesn’t like where the conversation is going, with how furious Emma was right now. He tried to raise a comforting hand to Emma’s shoulder to ease her tension but she was quick to smack it away from her hard, stinging his fingers a little.

“You’re so unpleasant, how do you even have any friends? How do they tolerate you? To think (name) wanted me to forgive you! Thank god you aren’t my fucking brother, I can’t imagine being anything like you!”

The words left her mouth before she could stop herself.

It was as if the world froze over for Izana. He stood there, wide eyed, his heart beating loudly in his chest as all the voices around him faded into the background. His hand extended weakly at his side, mouth drying up as a lump formed in his throat. 

“I-I-i" she starts to stutter. It’s obvious that she can recognize what she had just said as he blankly stared at her. "I didn't mean i-”

He doesn’t let her finish, turning on his heel and walking away as fast as possible. People were quick to clear out of his way, not wanting to be his target of aggression. Emma followed behind, instantly, shouting his name at the top of her lungs followed with strings of apologies.

“Izana, wait please-” she screamed from the crowd of people, tears streaming from her yellow eyes. He continued to ignore her as he hopped on his bike, sliding in the key and revving up the engine before she could reach him.

Izana zoomed away, turning Emma’s cries into background noise, her words repeating in his head.

“I didn’t mean it! I’M SORRY-”

YOU don't know which was worse, the feeling of helplessness that came with the reality of your life crashing before your very eyes or the splitting headache you've developed after crying in your room for a week straight. Laying on your bed all day, huddled up in a blanket and sobbing uncontrollably was unhealthy, but it was all you found the strength to do these days. 

In all your years of being alive, you've never felt this pathetic. Not when you would be pushed outside in the pouring rain if you made a mistake in making dinner, or had been beaten with a belt in front of Yuzhua and Hakkai because you failed your catechism test. You could protect yourself from your brothers when they got violent. You could run and hide when your dad was really angry and wanted to take it out on you.

Unfortunately, no one told you what to do when your life is falling apart.

Ever since that day, you couldn't find the strength to go to class or do anything for that matter. It was like your entire energy was sucked out of you, leaving your body an empty husk with nothing left to give. 

You only have yourself to blame.

You drag the blankets closer to your body, sniffling a bit. The worst part of all of this is that after this month, if you don’t find a job that pays you quickly, you are going to be broke. It’s times like this that makes you regret leaving your family. You know it’s wishful thinking, but you wonder if you would be forgiven assuming you return home in tears and repentant of your sin of disobedience like the prodigal son in the bible. Life is too hard to live in the outside world without the help and guidance of a parent. You miss your old life, with your own bed and guaranteed food, as long as you did as you were told. You miss how sometimes your parents took you and your siblings to eat out after church.

You miss your mother. You want to go back to her. Life is hard, and dealing with being jobless with nowhere to turn to is harder. You could ask Emma, but she’s already taking care of you and there was no way you would bother your friend about your money problems.

"Hey babes, I got the medicine for you."

Emma's soft voice rouses you out of your self-pity session. The wood creaks underneath her heels as she walks to your bed and takes a seat besides you, the mattress dipping underneath her weight. The scent of her Vivienne Westwood wafting through your nostrils fills you with a sense of warmth, familiarity and at the same time, dread.

You feel guilty. Perhaps it's because you don't know how to tell Emma what exactly is wrong with you. It's easier to give her the half-truth that you caught a stomach bug than say everything. If you even as much as hinted that Manjiro had something to do with the real reason you were a sobbing mess on your bed, you're sure she would overreact and fight with her brothers again.

But still, not telling her meant you were keeping secrets from her. Something you both promised not to ever do as you two became best-friends.

‘It’s for her own good.’ you try to justify it. ‘It’s better I keep my mouth shut.’

Pushing that thought at the back of your mind, you roll over to her direction, pulling down your blanket just a little bit to see her properly. Your heart drops at the sadness etched onto Emma’s face, a forlorn look in her eyes. You hated seeing her down, yet all you’ve been doing for the past few months since you came into her life was causing her pain. You know how it feels to lose family, no matter how bad they were to you and Emma is no different.

“Hey”

Your voice is hoarse from your constant crying, but Emma doesn’t mention it as she reaches a hand to caress your face. “You look better than yesterday. You up to eat?”

You nodded briefly, realising how hungry you were. You’ve barely had an appetite to eat anything, so your rations had been smaller and compact until you regained it back bit by bit, thanks to Emma’s constant care. Pushing yourself up, you sit up and yawn, quickly covering your mouth the moment a bad stench emanates from it. Emma’s face quickly grows sour as well, probably smelling it too.

“You haven’t showered.”

“Uhhh-”

You knew there was no excuse for that one as Emma put the food and medicine away before yanking you off the bed while talking about how gross you were for not showering throughout today. “You’re a girl (name), don’t do this to yourself, c’mon-”

“But-” you start to whine, trying to defend yourself. “I was tired-”

“Nope!” she retorted, pushing you towards the bathroom. “No excuses! I swear you’re acting like Mikey when he’s in one of his moods-”

The room falls silent at her words, the cheerful aura dropping the second Emma realises what she’s said, a wave of guilt washing over her face as she lets go of your hands.

“Fuck- I’m sorry (name)...”

Your heart aches at how heartbroken she sounds right now and shatters even further at the fact that everything, every problem they were experiencing right now was all your fault. You saw it deep in Mikey’s eyes how much pain and suffering your presence in their family had caused, and how his anger reflected that action towards you. You’ve been so entrenched in your own problems that you forgot the mess you made in their family.

“Emma, you miss them don’t you?”

‘It’s not too late.’ You mutter to yourself, your heart in your throat as you steel your resolve. You couldn’t let her make that mistake you made by leaving your family aside. You don’t want Emma to be like you.

“(Name), please don’t-”

“You can’t keep ignoring them forever.” You cut her short, speaking directly to her now. “You can’t keep ignoring Draken either too. You’re miserable.”

“I’m fin-”

“Emma no.” You snap at her, finally having enough of her stubbornness as anger swells up in you. “I see how sad you look everytime you look at your pictures with your big brothers and Draken. Do you think that it’s healthy to keep ignoring them like this?”

“You were the one they hurt, you shouldn’t feel bad for them-”

“It doesn’t matter! I don’t matter!” You yell desperately, now pulling away from her grasp in an attempt to put your foot down. “They are the ones who matter a lot. Those are you family members! People who love you and have protected you for years! Just talk it out with them! They miss you for god’s sake!”

“What the hell do you mean you don’t matter?” Emma roars back at you, suddenly enraged by your outburst. You nearly stumble back at how angry she sounded, fear creeping into your skin as your verbal claws retract. “You matter to me! You mean the world to me as any of them do! You’re my best friend and I love you and if they don’t understand that then there is nothing to make up for!”

By the time she was done yelling, her breathing was heavy and her eyes so intense you couldn’t even stare at her. Your eyes quickly flickered to your feet instead; scared of seeing the disappointment on her face and terrified of her anger. You didn’t like it when Emma yelled, it reminded you of your mother getting angry at you, something you hated doing to her.

Eventually, she took a deep breath and took a step closer to you, her hand intertwined with yours. “Come on, I’ll help you shower.”

You silently follow behind her, eyes downcast and shoulders slumped.

  PERHAPS Izana should be angry at Emma.

It would be justified after the words she said from her mouth, but he can’t because he knows the truth. Emma was just angry as well and she didn’t mean any of the words she had said to hurt him. She said them because of you, however and he realises that every fight they’ve had is over your presence in her life.

Which meant that the true culprit was you.

People may believe in love at first sight, but from the first day Izana set his eyes on you, he could only feel hatred towards you. You were just there, sitting awkwardly while Emma tried to involve you in their conversation and it irked him.

At first, Izana thought it was the fact that the both of you were clashing personalities that made him feel that way, but then you keep getting in his way and ruining things for him. He hates everything about you - the way you picked your finger when you were nervous. Your bright smile you gave to only Emma and how easy it was for her to like you. Just your mere presence in general was enough to set him off because of how simple it was for you to be close to Emma while you barely knew her. It felt like he was losing his only sister to a stranger, and now the Emma who stands in front of him is a mere mockery of his real sister.

And that’s the frustrating part. He can’t do anything to hurt you. He’s smart enough to know that if he does, Emma would never forgive him.

“... Kurokawa, are you here with us?”

Izana snaps back to reality as Kisaki taps the table three times to get his attention. ‘I might have spaced out.’ He thinks to himself before facing the entirety of the table; Tetta Kisaki, the rather shrewd and ruthless dealer sitting, his equally irritating lap dog Shuji Hanma and the little shit that he called his younger brother, Mikey.

Speaking of Mikey, ever since that day he made that phone call and revealed his brand new plan of accepting you into their friend group, he’s been very quiet. Even throughout today’s meeting, he hasn’t said a word, aside from mentioning that Draken was going to be absent and asking where Kakucho was before the meeting began.

And knowing his brother, a quiet Mikey is a suspicious Mikey.

Now that Izana thinks about it, he’s noticed that Mikey, who was on his side initially had suddenly switched to trying to apologise to you. Which was weird, considering how egocentric Mikey could be on the topic of apologising. Izana has his suspicions, but then again Mikey is unpredictable due to his rather dark impulses, so he couldn’t really say anything yet, until Kakucho came back from his task.

Izana cleared his throat and faced Kisaki again, deciding to be as honest as possible. After all, it’s their fault that he’s in this mess, might as well remind them. “Just thinking about how Emma practically called me a bastard and I’m supposed to be okay with it.” He said nonchalantly and the air in the room shifted into an uncomfortable silence for the upteenth time this week ever since that unfortunate day. It isn’t surprising to anyone as to why though, Izana’s complicated relationship with the Sano’s is a sore topic that no one ever dared to bring up.

From Kisaki’s tight lipped expression, Izana is sure that the younger male is picking his words carefully in his head. Even Hanma who would have laughed or said something to intentionally piss off Izana remains silent. Eventually, Kisaki lets out a resigned sigh. “The audit would be done another time.” He states in a cool tone, putting his laptop aside before facing the two brothers. “It’s obvious we’re not gonna do anything useful until you resolve this issue with Emma and her friend.”

“Really?” The white haired male mocks, causing Kisaki to shift in his place, an irritated frown creasing his face. “would you like to hear my pla-”

“We’re not going to kill a civilian and draw attention to ourselves, Izana. I’ve already told you what to do.” Kisaki snapped back, his yellow eyes darting from Izana to Mikey, before narrowing in irritation. “Both of you. Just apologise to (name), it’s not that hard. You don’t even have to mean it, the girl won’t even know the difference-”

“Ah yes, cause that went well the last time.”

“And whose fault is that? I clearly told you to say “I’m sorry” and all you did was make things worse!”

“I’m just brutally honest.” Izana spits back. “And you can’t blame me because I tried, compared to Mikey who sits on his damn ass and has done nothing-”

“I wasn’t the one who called her a cheap hooker!” Mikey interjects defensively, sitting upright after staying quiet from the start of this meeting, finally saying something.

“Oh, so you can speak.” Izana retorts back, his voice cold. Mikey is so good at shifting blame onto others for actions he has a hand in, especially when he knows it would reflect badly on him. Unfortunately, Izana has been in this game longer than his little brother. “I thought you had gone mute with the way you don’t want to talk about the issue beyond pushing me to apologise to her.”

“You don’t make it any easier with how you talk to people.” Mikey hisses back, his tempo rising with each word, but Izana can hear the slight shake in his voice, almost as if he’s hiding something. “How am I supposed to do anything if you keep saying shit like you’re glad (name)’s gone?”

(Name)?

The entire room falls silent at Mikey’s sudden outburst, or rather what Mikey had just said. No one says a word as they all stare at Mikey in shock, eye wide and mouth hanging open like he’d grown two heads. There’s a glimmer of confusion in the dark eyed male before the realisation of his mistake washes over him, his facial expression changing into a mixture of guilt and pure terror.

As if he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t have.

It’s unmistaken. Izana knows his brother is hiding something and it has to do with you. “You’ve never,” he starts slowly, never taking his eyes off Mikey, gauging his facial expression. “called her by her name. You only call girls who you had something to do with by their name.”

“I-”

“You fucked her, didn’t you.” it’s a statement, not a question. Mikey grows pale and it's more of a sure answer than anything else at all.

“I didn’t do anything bad… she’s still a virgin-”

“What.” Kisaki, interjecting as well, cuts him off, his voice cold. “Did. You. Do?”

Mikey is silent. It’s brief and doesn’t last long as he finally seals his fate with a quiet voice. “It’s not my fucking fault, she wore a short skirt and she was asking for it-”

At the side, Kisaki crumples back onto the dining table seat, his head in his hands muttering a quiet “Oh fuck, I should have stayed with Osanai.” as he shakes in disbelief. Hanma just sits there, clearly perturbed, not knowing how to react but at the same time, not really interested.

“Glad to know I’m not the only screw up.” Izana scoffs as well. Despite how cheery his voice sounded, the furious look on his face says a different story altogether. “Since apparently you’re just as stupid as I am.”

Mikey runs a hand through his golden locs, frustration evident on his features. No one has ever seen him look so frantic, like a little kid who broke something and is trying to hide it. “I didn’t do anything wrong. Sure she said no at first but I knew she wanted it when she relaxed in my touch-”

“That’s not what Emma’s gonna think, you idiot!” Izana barks at him angrily, his temper finally off the rails. “You practically threw away your entire plan before it even started! All for what? Mediocre pussy you could get from some other girl? And you know how Shin is about this shit. If Emma finds out and tells him, we’re screwed!”

There’s a mixture of emotions swirling in Izana right now. The urge to punch Mikey was strong, for daring to not only lie to his face, but also making him look like a fool to cover his ass.

Then again, he knows it’s really not Mikey’s fault but yours. You must have done something to make Mikey hurt you because he knows his little brother doesn’t hurt girls. You have this effect of turning people into worse versions of themselves, making them disgusting, evil and hateful.

You turned Emma against them and now you made Mikey’s dark impulses come out.

It’s you that’s the problem.

“So what anyone find out? They won’t believe her” Mikey snarls back, irritated. “She can’t blame me, I told her to fucking leave but she didn’t listen! She was practically begging me to fuck her-”

“ENOUGH!”

Kisaki’s voice is loud enough to silence the two brothers, ending their argument instantly as they breathe heavily from their prior screaming match. Izana slumps back on his seat as Kisaki sits up straight, eyes narrowed. Mikey does the same as Izana, his jaw tightly clenched as he crosses his arms on his chest, feet crossed. The younger male clears his throat, and starts to rationalise the situation.

“It’s obvious that we’re going to switch gears since this happened. We all have a curated reputation that we need to protect so that people don’t nose into our business.” He turns to Mikey who is still glaring hard at Izana. “Your brother has a point, you fucked up our plan by not telling anyone what you did-”

“You judging me too, Kisaki?”

“Can you stop being defensive for once Mikey and just listen!” Kisaki scolds, just about done with everyone making things more difficult for him. “I don’t care what you did to her, whatever affection or lust you have for her is a you problem. I just want this situation to be in our favour.”

The statement makes Izana scoff in dismal fashion, but he decides to ask out of curiosity regardless. “And how do you intend to turn this situation around? Cause right now she has leverage over us and any careless move can put us in a tougher spot than we can handle.”

Kisaki turns his attention fully towards Izana again, a knowing look on his face as he asks. “Is Kakucho done searching Mikey’s car?”

‘How did he know?’ Izana blinks, but then catches Hanma smirking and doesn’t bother to ask his impending questions. Kisaki always had a nasty and suspicious habit of continuously tailing him specifically, and usually it doesn’t go over Izana’s radar when it happens, apart from this instance. Which meant someone was being a rat in his group.

He’ll deal with that later.

Mikey raised a brow in confusion as well, opening his mouth to protest the invasion of his privacy when Izana’s phone suddenly rings. He picks it up, attempting to step out to answer it when Kisaki raises his hand to stop him.

“Answer it here.” Kisaki said, ignoring the way Izana looks at him like he has two heads. “and put it on speaker.”

He had no reason to comply, but he wanted to see where Kisaki was going with whatever plan he had. With a wry smile, Izana put the phone down on the table and slid the answer button, putting it on a loudspeaker.

“Did you find anything Kakucho?”

Ever loyal, Kakucho clears his throat and starts to speak, his voice sounding strained over the phone, as if he’s struggling with something. “Yes boss.” He answers, a twinge of nervousness coating his tone. “There’s a dash cam on the mirror and a spy cam underneath the compartment facing the passenger’s seat…”

Mikey grumbles under his breath something about fucking Kakucho up if anything ends up spoilt or missing in his car but Kisaki holds his hand up to his lips and shushes him. Izana continues once he’s sure his brother is done complaining. “And did you confirm the anonymous tip that we got?”

He can hear Kakucho shift uncomfortably, the silence on the other side of the phone drawn out until he finally says. “Boss, it’s too … I don’t think we should use this against her.” He tries to reason. “I think we’re going too far-”

“Perfect.” Kisaki chimes in, now looking at Izana with a satisfied smile. Kakucho is about to ask why Kisaki was there but Izana cuts him off instead. “Bring it back. I’ll explain once you come to the house.”

“Okay boss.”

The phone line dies and Kisaki, fairly confident in his plan, looks at Izana once again. “I’m sure you know where I’m going, right?”

Izana may think Kisaki is a pathetic brat who just happened to be smart, but right now, it’s like the both of them are connected and in tune with their thoughts. The tanned male stretches his lips into a smile, one full of malice and at the same time, glee, his eyes light with mirth when he realises what Kisaki was thinking.

Finally a plan he could follow along with.

“Alright, I’m all ears.”

THE walk back to your dorm was quiet.

By the time you managed to catch a bus after spending the entire day looking for a job and getting back to campus, it was already late in the night. Save for only the street lamps that were beginning to dim, everywhere else was darker than usual.

You had read that there was going to be a lunar eclipse tonight between the hours of 10pm - 00am. The time boldly written on the bus’ digital clock before you got down was 10:45pm, so you already assumed it was the cause of the unnatural darkness tonight.

A long time ago before the world weighed you down, things like this would have made you excited. You loved watching the stars when you were young, trying to check on the papers your father bought to see if there was any space news available. You remember borrowing your immediate elder brother’s binoculars as a makeshift telescope, trying to piece out the stars in the sky or see if you would catch a glimpse of the comet that was said to pass through that week.

Unfortunately, you were young and foolish. Wanting to impress your father, you told him all about your book of constellations that you drew up, detailing the first star that appeared every evening, down to your crazy childish theories about aliens and space.

“Can you show me the book?” your father asked calmly. You should have known it was dangerous for your father to be this calm, but you were too blinded by excitement to think and you gave him the book, a bright smile on your face.

Your smile fell as his large hands ripped your book into shreds, before telling you: “Women don’t dream.”

Maybe that was the day you realised the love you craved from your father will never be given to you. You were so young and impressionable, all you wanted was for him to be proud of you, like he was with his sons. Now, you can’t even look at the stars, the memory leaves a bitter taste in your mouth and you try to shake it off as you continue on the path.

You wondered what grievous sin you’ve committed to be so down on your luck like this. Today had been one disappointment to another

You passed by Emma’s dorm building, a sigh escaping your lips. She told you that Draken wanted to take her out for dinner tonight, which shocked you because friends with benefits - according to what Emma herself told you- don’t go on dates or do lovey dovey stuff with each other, to avoid complicated feelings from budding.

Then again, their relationship is based on the fact that they both have feelings for each other, but Draken was not interested in a relationship.

It was already complicated before it began but at least she's taking your advice and talking to them again.

Your eyes darted up to her window, hoping her lights were on. Whenever she was alone, Emma hated sleeping in the dark. She said it reminded her of the times her mother would lock her and Izana in a dark room whenever she brought her customers in. Anytime she was in a darkened room, she told you she could still hear the sound of her mother moaning and a man grunting. Izana would try his best to distract her, playing games or even stealing an earphone and plugging it to his own so that she would listen to music instead of what was going on.

A frown graced your lips when you saw two bodies from the curtain, one tall figure you recognize as Draken and Emma’s smaller dainty figure perched on him, kissing. You quickly averted your eyes and walked faster, ignoring the unfamiliar pang in your chest. Maybe you’re jealous because you needed your friend’s comfort right now and she wasn’t available. You felt greedy for this, after spending a week with her, you should let her be free.

‘She has her own life to live. And I have mine’ you muttered to yourself as you trudged along the path, slowly dragging your feet. ‘I have to stop being so dependent on her.’

Eventually, your thoughts drift back to your reoccurring dream. Losing your job made you realise that if you didn’t do anything about it, your tiredness would eventually catch up to you and ruin everything else you’ve worked for. With an important test scheduled for tomorrow, you knew you could not afford to take another loss this week. You had to power through your sleep tonight, even if it traumatised you.

‘Maybe I should pretend that I like it. Pretend it’s okay and enjoy it so that I won’t have to wake up.’ You shook your head, cursing as you drew closer to your own dorm building. ‘Oh God, how far I’ve fallen. Look at me trying to enjoy a disgraceful act-’

You paused in your tracks at the sound of a leaf crushing. You quickly turned around, trying to ascertain who could be lurking there behind the bushes. Your palms started sweating, your nerves firing at the thought of being watched.

Silence.

You decided to continue walking, assuming that maybe you were hearing things and there wasn’t anything at all. Nighttime always had a way of making you nervous, especially with all the horrible stories you heard about innocent women being attacked around these times. Besides, looking around for whatever may be lurking was a dumb idea.

You should just get out of here.

Eventually, you make it to your dorm house in record time, a sigh of relief escaping your lips. ‘Maybe I’m being paranoid. But at least I’m safe now.’ You think to yourself as you push the door open, closing it behind you.

Weary from the day’s stress, your body starts to give up on you but you push through, trying your best to just make it to your room. You’re sure you would just collapse on your bed the second you got there and forget about anything else.

You finally make it to your room, about to rummage your bag for the keys when you notice the door was unlocked. ‘Oh? Ami must have come back rather early, since I barely see her until 2am.’

(From here is edited)

But as you reach for the handle, a feeling of dread washes over you, the same one you felt when you were outside. ‘I really need to let this go. There’s no harm waiting for me. It’s just my room.’ You mutter to yourself. Your overthinking has cost you a lot, from your job to your academics and right now, you really need it to stop. Pushing whatever feeling was keeping you away, you walked into the darkened room.

The first thing that greeted you was the stench of some kind of smoke -weed, the kind that Ami liked to use whenever she was in the room. You always hated the smell and you recall telling her to leave the windows open whenever she wanted to smoke. Coughing, you quickly covered your nose and mouth with one hand and reached to turn on the light with another. “Ami, how many times have I told you to open the window whenever you smoke? You know I don’t like the smell-”

Your blood turns to ice the moment light floods the room, your mouth dry as you stare at the man perched on your reading chair, a leg crossed over the other, the weed blunt hanging between his tanned hands. His lips are stretched into a sick grin, showing all his teeth, purple eyes shining with an odd mirth as he glances at you up and down.

Izana Kurokawa.

‘Run’

You don’t need to be told twice, quickly discarding your bag and running towards the direction of the door, only to hit someone hard, standing tall in your way. You look up fearfully to see mismatched eyes, a scar running down his face and flinch backwards in reflex. It’s as if he gazes at you with pity, but quickly switches to a blank stare as he stands between you and the door.

You know him from hanging around Emma a lot in the Tenjiku frat house, Kakucho. He’s always around Izana and only loyal to him for some reason that you don’t know. He doesn’t listen to anyone else, not even Mikey. You realise that he might have been the one that was following you when you were walking home.

Begging him to let you pass would be futile.

“Don’t worry, I’m just here to have a little chat with you. I’m not going to hurt you.” His tone is calm, but it doesn’t bring you any comfort. If Mikey could hurt you without any remorse, then there’s nothing stopping Izana from doing worse to you. “And as much as your backside is as interesting as your face, I prefer talking to someone who is looking at me.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.” The words fly out from your mouth before you even think of a more appropriate response but it doesn’t seem to give him any form of reaction other than a dry laugh.

He scoffed. “I don’t care. Turn around.”

Reluctantly you slowly turn to face him again, your body trembling as your fear filled eyes lock with his. Your heart drops to your stomach when you hear heavy footsteps walk out of the door, shutting it behind you, locks turning and trapping you with Izana.

‘Oh God oh God oh God.’

Your fear doesn’t go unnoticed by the white haired man, and he only chuckles at how stiff you were. Between the two brothers, you know Izana thrives in fear, using it to his advantage and it’s not unfounded. Notwithstanding his backing from Black dragons, Izana had taken Tenjiku from a down and out frat house, to a den of crime that holds power, trickling right into the administration of the university. Even his men know better than to ever get themselves in his bad books, because no one can ever escape him, no matter how much you try to run.

It was only a matter of time until he would make you pay for causing him problems, but you didn’t think he’d come by himself. You felt stupid for thinking he wouldn’t care about you or he’d forget how angry he was at you and leave you alone, especially with Emma still not on speaking terms with them.

He motions with his bunt for you to come closer to him and you comply, taking careful steps until you’re standing right in front of him. He eyes you again with a tepid frown. “When you meet a king, you don’t stand before him, you kneel.”

Kneel. You want to assume he’s not serious but you know better than to question him and go down on your knees, focusing your gaze firmly on your lap. It’s humiliating the way he has you at his mercy, without even moving an inch but it’s better to be compliant than to aggravate him even further by being disobedient.

You’ve learned the hard way what could happen if you resist.

From the corner of your eyes, you watch as Izana puts out his weed blunt on your reading table leaving a sorching mark on the table, before reaching behind his waistband. Your mouth grows dry the second you see the gun, your heart pounding against your chest as he presses the barrel to your head.

‘Oh god.’ You gasp as he presses it further against your head, until you’re sure it would leave an indent. ‘He’s going to kill me. He’s going to kill me…’

“That’s odd,” He murmurs. “Usually, other people would be begging for their lives when met with a gun to their head, but you’re quiet. If not for the way your hands are trembling, I’d think you weren’t scared.”

This time, with a gun pointed at your head, you’re careful with your words. “Y-you said you won’t hurt me.” Your voice shakes with fear but you continue. You know men like Izana, he reminds you of your older brother who ruled the house apart from your father, with fear and control. Sometimes, when you were able to stroke his ego, he’d go easy on you. Maybe that would work on Izana too. “That you want to talk.”

“And what if I changed my mind? Pulled the trigger? That’ll make my life easier, yeah? I won’t have to fight for my sister’s love and affection with you.” 

Your breath hitches in your throat when you hear the safety go off and watch as his finger curls around the trigger. ‘Oh God, he’s going to kill me. He’ll shoot me dead. I-i have to say something- I don’t want to die-’

“I-i trust you not to do it.” You reply, your lips trembling as you struggle not to think of your head scattered into pieces on the floor if he chooses to kill you. “You’re a man of your words.”

There’s another complete silence that engulfs the entire room, until you hear a click that makes you flinch for a split second, waiting for the bullet that would end it all. Instead, it’s him putting the safety back on, and chuckling at your reaction.

“You trust me? How foolish.” He laughs, tracing the gun from your head down to underneath your chin and forcing you to look up at him. You’ve only read about people with empty eyes in stories, but seeing it in person was so terrifying. “Is that why you ended up with Mikey in his car?”

All the blood rushes from your head to the tip of your toes. “H-how do you kn-”

“I have eyes and ears in this school, (name).” You’re sure it’s the first time you’ve heard him call you by your name and despite being in a life or death situation, you couldn’t control the shiver that ran through your spine. “You wanted him to touch you, right?”

“T-that is not what happened!” You suddenly cried out, trying to explain your own side of the story. Of all the people who know your dirty and shameful secret, Izana is the worst pick, just your luck. “It was a mistake! I tried to tell him I didn’t want it but I couldn’t-”

“Ah ah -” Izana cuts you off, tilting your chin higher with the gun. “Don’t lie to me. You must have planned the entire thing to make Mikey look bad”

“No! I wasn’t trying to do anything, I just wanted to talk-”

“Really? Cause Mikey told me an entirely different story-”

“No, no I- didn’t… -”

“You were dangling yourself like a piece of meat for him to fuck and he’s a man, you know. He has urges and it's hard to resist temptation.”

“That’s not true-” your lips start to tremble at his words, tears forming at the corner of your eyes. You didn’t want to be assaulted, you just wanted to talk to him about the Emma issue and you wanted to apologise. “That’s not true-”

“Oh but it is.” He said firmly, now leaning in closer to your face until there’s barely any inches between the two of you. “And now Mikey feels like a piece of shit because he couldn’t stop himself.”

“No-” your voice is small, trying to defend yourself but even you are beginning to doubt your own credibility with how he keeps twisting the narrative around until you begin to actually believe him.

‘No! Don’t let him make you think you’re in the wrong! You know what happened!’

“He even told you to leave but you refused to. You were baiting him to just do something to you so that you can tell everyone how bad Mikey is and make yourself get more sympathy points. Am I wrong?”

“No! I would never do that to Mikey!” You don’t realise your tempo had suddenly gotten high or that tears had started to drip down your face, but Izana did. He doesn’t point it out, staying quiet as you start to shout at him. “I would never bait him into hurting me! I just wanted to make up with him because I felt that I overreacted at the party I swear! And then he touched me in the car -”

“And you never reported him to the school authorities? Why? Did you want to blackmail him for money-”

“Because I love him!”

The words flew out of your mouth before you could even stop yourself from saying them.

Your heart drops as a mischievious glint appears in Izana’s eyes. His smile drops slightly, still maintaining the gun on your chin. “You love him?” He says slowly, testing out the words on his lips. “Love? Mikey?” He looks so deep in thought, like the concept sounds so foreign to him that he almost can’t believe it. His gaze falls back to you again, a quiet scoff emanating from his lips. “You really have no shame, do you?”

Unable to maintain eye contact with him, you break away from his gaze, biting down on your lips to prevent yourself from falling apart. When you don’t respond, Izana takes your silence as an opportunity to keep talking. “If you love him so much, then what’s wrong with what you both did in the car that day? It was what you wanted, wasn't it?”

“Not like that…”

“But you claim to love him.” Izana is calm and cool, while you’re stuttering on your words, making you look like you’re the one who is wrong. Like what you’re saying doesn’t make any sense to begin with and he’s the one saying something of reason. “And yet, you didn’t even notice he wasn’t himself that day. Or did you take advantage of his fragile state of mind?”

“I would NEVER-”

“You would, because you get to be the so-called victim and he gets to be the villain in your own story. Do you really know the implication of your actions?”

“That’s not right.” You don’t even realize how quiet you’ve gotten, your voice full of uncertainity. “I didn’t … it’s not…”

“Shut up.” He cuts you off again with a firm tone, tapping the gun on your chin gently to enunciate his point. “The reason why I haven’t put a bullet through your head as much as I want to is because I love Emma. I love Emma so much I’d kill for her and I’d resist the urge to kill for her. That’s how Sano’s love. That’s true love. That's something you'll never ever experience.”

You stay silent, trying to understand what exactly Izana was calling love. He leaned closer, making you feel even smaller. “If Emma finds out, she’ll think Mikey intentionally hurt you and she will hate him. But I guess that’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“Never. I don’t want her to hate him” your inner voice telling you it’s not your fault, is nothing more than a whisper, the feeling of guilt and shame overtaking you until you’re almost suffocating. “I just want them to be happy…”

“Then you know exactly what you’re meant to do, right?”

Of course you know what to do. Ever since you were child, it’s been drilled into your head. Whenever your brothers hit you a bit too hard or your father went overboard with his belt and you ended up in the hospital, your mother would take you aside to issue a warning that still rings in your head. That had terrible consequences if you refused to follow through with it.

You nod weakly. It really doesn’t matter what is right and wrong when it comes to the Sano’s, but what they want. Izana taps the gun on your chin again, shaking his head. “I need a verbal answer.”

“I won’t tell anybody what happened. Especially not Emma.”

Satisfied, he withdrew his gun from your chin and your face falls onto his lap, unable to support your head any longer. You feel a hand reaching down to pet your head, like you were a dog who had just been tamed by her new owner. The strength to push him off or stand up had left you, feeling drained as the weight of guilt settle down on your shoulders, heavily. You know you shouldn’t believe anything Izana says, but then again he does have a point. Maybe you should have been more receptive of Mikey’s touch or at least be polite about declining him instead of shoving him off and hurting his pride.

You feel so utterly powerless. Despite being wronged, you know there’s nothing you can really do to save yourself. You don’t think you can bear the traumatic experience of being an outlier again.

Mikey. You don’t want to hurt him. You don’t want anyone thinking he’s a bad person over a singular action.

'Maybe it’s not as bad as I think, I did enjoy it mid-way, so it should count as something. Right?'

You feel sick just trying to think about it.

“You know, if you’re this obedient, we can get along just fine.” He hums, breaking the silence as he pets your head gently. You hate yourself right now. How easy it is to do whatever it is that you’re told because disobedience is not an option. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want to know what I’ll do to you if you break your promise.”

“No” your voice is quiet. You feel tired, sick maybe, you don’t know. Maybe it’s the weed he smoked earlier affecting your judgement and reasoning. Or it’s the lack of sleep that has made it difficult for you to think straight or stand up. Either way, you don’t care. “I don’t.”

“Good girl.”

You know he’s mocking you, but you accept it, like you do with every circumstance thrown at you.

Bonus:

  IZANA looks down at your sleeping figure with a curious gaze.

For a moment, he almost pities you. Despite the faint glow of the room lighting, he can see the dark circles underneath your eyes and how stressed you look. For someone who is actively working to pay her fees while sustaining herself with no one caring for her, it must be hard being abandoned by society.

He can see why Emma picked you to be her friend, she always had a trait of picking up stray animals who had no one because she wanted something to protect. It’s no different with you, the way she’s so fiercely loyal to you and why she wanted you to be accepted by their family. No wonder she was hurt when you were vehemently rejected by them.

If he had a conscience, he’d feel bad for you. You love Mikey, of all people, someone who only saw you as a nuisance and to push the blame of his actions onto. All those times Mikey was cruel to you must have hurt the most because you truly cared about what he thinks about you.

He’s careful when he lifts your head from his lap, not wanting to wake you up. He puts your head on the chair and turns to leave, already overstaying his welcome. He’s done the thing he was supposed to, ensuring you stayed quiet about Mikey’s actions and there’s no need for him to be here any longer.

As he walked to the door, his mind goes back to you. In a way, you and him were similar. All alone, unwanted, with nobody in the world to care about you, cold, uncaring parents who didn’t think twice in terms of abandoning you both. The only difference between you and him is that he grew a backbone and you haven’t. You’re like a kicked dog who continues to stay on the ground to get kicked, in hopes the person kicking you stops eventually.

As long as you stay on the ground, people like him will keep kicking you.

He knocks loudly on the door and the locks turn. Kakucho opens it for him, peering inside with a worried gaze, his eyes settling on your body slumped over a chair.

“Did you hit -”

“I didn’t touch her.” Izana snaps at the taller male, stepping out of the room properly. “She’s fine, physically at least. Emotionally she’s a mess. But that’s Mikey’s problem to fix.”

“Huh?”

It wouldn’t hurt to tell Kakucho your little secret.  “Apparently (name)’s in love with my dear brother Mikey so she’s keeping quiet what he did to her.” a cruel smile stretches across his face. “How pathetic.”

Kakucho frowns at Izana’s statement, but as usual he doesn’t say anything in response. Instead, his eye darts back to your form again, taking a good look at you, his eyes softening. Ever the gentleman.

“She shouldn’t really stay like that Izana, she’ll get a stiff neck-”

“Kakucho.”

That was enough to end the conversation.

special thanks to: (please turn on your mentions in 'settings' before filling the form.): @officiallyjaehyuns @haikyuusboringassmanager @ilybbg @merrymerrykiss @cockonoi @Rindou24689 @short-cxke @kokoch4n3l @GenAwi @ryuguji-sana @nuyoo @reiners-milkbiddies @kiwixpi @gh0stgirl333 @brisssaaa009 @fushiqruo @kawaiikoalagarden @damidamimongalam @raven-nevra @ilovetwodmen @kodzubaby @straightfromheaven @manchie55 @pikibee @tomeyano @matchamilktea-05 @tenjikusstuff4 @m0onz1 @hapikiou @rainnyzz @Lovelyartistz @lik0 @maraya-007 @thisismarisaaa @reeyy0-2 @littlemisspropaganda @cherie026

[lostalioth]

𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐲

→ premise: your sweet boy gets so worked up when he gets his hands on you he cant help it. wanting to take things slower you’ve come up with a little plan to draw things out and have a little fun.

→ pairing: sub!steve harrington x fem!reader

→ warnings: smut | 18+, dry humping, handcuffs, nicknames [sweet boy (for steve), baby, babe], very small praise kink (is said once)

→ a/n: kinktober 02

Steve had a bit of an issue, he tended to get a bit too excited. Getting lost in the moment, the feeling of your hands on him and your gentle voice telling him how good he feels. He doesn't per say finish too soon, he is however not able to slow himself down long enough to prolong the blissful feeling. All whiny and needy begging you to let him cum after around only 10 or so minutes in.

You had come up with a sneaky little plan to tease your lovely boyfriend and slow him down a bit. That was how he ended up spread out, nearly completely exposed besides his boxers still on, on your bed. Steve’s face was all flushed and his eyes glazed over as you watched him squirm against the restraints holding his arms up and to the headboard of your bed. It was always easy to tell when Steve was sinking into a more submissive headspace by the way he looked at you. Eyes heavy and lidded just begging for you to touch him.

“Baby mhm~ please touch me, i missed you all damn day” he whined and lightly bucked his hips as his wrists tugged at the silver handcuffs. His cock was steadily growing harder by the second, he swore he was already half hard when he came home. You had told him you had a little surprise for him when he got off work and he was nowhere near expecting this. Your hand was softly brushing up his calf to his thigh, raking your nails over the skin. “Sweet boy you’ve gotta be more patient, i just wanna test a little something” you explain gently, honey dripped from your words as you teased Steve. The softness of your voice coupled with your teasing feather light touch were getting him worked up already. He was so lost up in his own head falling deeper into sub space that he nearly missed you starting to tug your shirt off your body.

Sensually and almost painfully slow he watched as you first stripped out of your shirt. Exposing your favorite bra of his, that holds and hugs your breasts just right. With a small wiggle of your hips you rid yourself of your jeans, the matching panties being revealed. Finally looking back up at your boyfriend you notice his borderline slack jawed expression. “Fuck baby- baby please just touch me, needa feel ya’ just something please god!” He whined and groaned and squirmed on your bed. Now you may call him your sweet boy but he could get more vulgar the more desperate he got.

With a sway in your hips that has Steve’s cock twitching in his constricting boxers you make your way closer to him. Pushing down on the bed with your knee, you climb up into it.

Steve’s heart was pounding in his chest in anticipation, he was possibly beginning to like the draw out and prolonged foreplay and strip teasing. If only he knew you had just begun with all that you had planned.

“This enough touchin’ for you baby?” You question with an almost mocking tone as you throw one of your legs over Steve's body. Hovering your body over his lap, nails scratching and teasing his hip bone and down his v-line. “No.. need more please babe i need it, i've been a good boy” his eyes can't stop switching between your face, your hands wandering his hips or your clothed pussy hovering just over his throbbing cock. He could feel a wet spot forming the longer you extended the teasing, precum leaking with the more worked up he got.

He looks at you with a pleading sweet look in his eyes, whining and trying to buck his hips up against you. You chuckle softly, a smirk plastered on your face at your boyfriend's needy state. “How about this? This enough, baby?” You question again but this time you finally seat yourself fully in his lap, ass nestled right against his bulge. Before he can answer, you give a little rock of your hips against his. His cock rubbing right up against your cunt, hitting just right to nudge your clit as your hips move back.

You had worked yourself up over all your teasing of him as well so that small addictive amount of friction was enough to make a small whine slip from your lips. Steve's wrists tug at his restraints once again as his hips thrust up to meet your hips. “Mmhm mmhm yeah, thats- ugh fuck” he cuts his own sentence off halfway with a gasp and a groan as his eyes bore into the space where your bodies are connected. Getting lost in the pleasure and his head going cloudy.

Your smirk grows as you continue grinding your cunt against Steve's cock, your slick soaking through your panties more and more with every nudge of his bulge against your throbbing clit.

“Yeah sweet boy?” You run your nails down the sides of his toned body and back up the underside of his outstretched raised arms as you lean down causing him to shudder. Pressing your chest against his, your face inches from his. His lust blown pupils dilate even further as he looks into your eyes making you smile. Bending his knees and putting his feet flat on the bed, Steve angles his hips just right for you to keep humping him.

“Please don't stop” he softly pleads, leaning his face in even closer to yours. entangling your fingers through his luscious hair you crash your lips against his. His hmpf of surprise morphs into a moan when your hips begin rutting against his again.

Both your panties and his boxers now soaked through with a mixture of his precum and your slick make for an easier glide as his cock nudges through your slit bumping your clit. Your plush lips against Steve’s muffle all the whines and moans that leave both your mouths. Your hand that isn't snaked through his hair is resting on his hip bone. The new angle being just enough to relieve the throbbing ache in his dick and yet not enough to make him cum in his boxers which he was grateful for.

You already make him all types of pathetic. He doesn't need to add creaming in his pants from some dry humping on top of that. When you rock your hips at just the right timing with his, the now red and angry tip of his cock hits your clit making you shudder in euphoric pleasure. His hands writh and pull at his cuffs every few minutes, his fists now balled up. His blunt nails probably leaving crescent shape indents in his palms.

You both knew he was strong enough that he could pull and either break the cuffs or your head board and get out. The both of you also knew however just how much he loved it when you were the one in control the whole time.

Your hips rutting and humping each other was the perfect amount of pleasure to prolong foreplay even longer, your plan had worked. Steve however was already painfully desperate to be inside you and you were far from done with him.

→ a/n: i rushed this one a bit so sorry for any mistakes and its length its a tad shorter than i wanted but i needed to get it out :)

[alphabetboyluvr]

the curious lifespan of migrating monarchs - jjk

THE CURIOUS LIFESPAN OF MIGRATING MONARCHS (& other aurelian affairs)

pairing: streamer!jk x international student!female oc (s2l)

warnings: strangers to lovers, clubbing, foul language, alcohol, vaping lol, jungkook is kinda famous, the oc is oblivious, the oc is also a foreign student who has very recently arrived in Korea!! (pls note - while i've been in korean uni dorms, i've never been in yonsei dorms specifically so don't shout at me if it isn't supeeeerr accurate), jaykay is speaking in eng for like 90% of this!!, i've also never watched a gaming streamer and had to do so for research lmao so there's a lot of guesswork going awwwn <3, the oc has tattoos, they bond over this, cute nicknames (tokki and nabi <3), one bed trope?? kinda, jaykay lives w/ yoongi and tae (they are streamers too (and dj?? (tae is a bit unhinged))), jungkook wears calvins!, a singular appearance of yoongi in his boxers!!, tipsy hookup, fingering, protected sex (woo!), desk sex, oral (m receiving), girliepop swallows <3, brief mentions of jungkook's starry eyes, lots of kisses, bunny ears, (1) mention of cross-fit

wordcount: 13011

note from holly: this was a commission done for the lovely Michelle over on my kofi page!! i don't open commissions often, but when I do I'm very lucky that the requests are so much fun. this actually ended up being way longer than it was supposed to be lol and is also available on wattpad!! also fun facts for you - I imagine the boys apartment (and jks room!) to be same as jk + jimins place in BD, just a little bigger lmao

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

CLUB SUNDOWN WAUSAN-RO, HONGDAE SATURDAY 02:24

Time ceases to exist after the sun goes down in Seoul. It could be two, or it could be five. The only thing that really clues you in on the actual time is the DJ schedule that lights up behind the decks: 02:00-03:00, Blu-Tae.

It's some guy you've never heard of. Looks no older than you. Probably a student, just like the rest of the crowd.

His hair is as blue as his namesake, which does make you smile, and his choices aren't bad either (even if somewhat questionable). You've never heard a jazz remix of Darude's Sandstorm before, and you doubt you ever will again.

Club Sundown is just as rogue as the rest of the city after the sun goes down. Hidden in the basement—like all the best places in Seoul are—the small room is packed to the absolute brim.

Who cares for views and sunsets offered by rooftop bars when you could lose yourself in the debauchery of an eternal midnight, instead?

Drinks are spilt on strangers, and dances have lost the grandeur of old-fashioned waltzes. It's not like you could dance properly, even if you wanted to. There's just simply no space.

Like Alice, you're down the rabbit hole—and oh, how you prefer it to being in the real world. In the shadows, you can be anyone you like.

If you were sober, you'd know this is also the case for daily life. You're in a new country with no ties to your former self. Who you are is who you choose to be.

But the shadows aren't all that dark. The red lights of the club bleed into the cracks, painting everyone in the same subtle hue of danger.

They shine a little light on the identifiers of you; the thin black lines of your patchwork tattoos. Trailing up your arm, they're memories of your past selves, and an indicator of who you hope to become.

"Down this," you say to your dormmate, Rae, handing back over the drink you've just ordered from the bar. "Cloakroom, then dance."

Still carrying your winter coats, you'd wanted to check the place out before committing to it. Entry is free, but the cloakroom is the same price as a drink. It would only be worth putting your coats away if you knew you wanted to stay—and given the fact the DJ was playing O-Zone's Dragostea Din Tei as you entered, you know it's a no-brainer. While his stage name might make you roll your eyes a little, Blu-Tae certainly does cater to your tastes. When you're drunk, and music vibrates through you, it's empyrean. No place you'd rather be.

"Oh, Jesus," Rae gags as she sips the drink you've just handed her. Despite her disgust, she's laughing. Head to toe in black, dark hair loose around her shoulders, she's been your ride-or-die since you arrived in Seoul. Both international students in the same dorm, there's no one you'd rather get up to no good with. "Vodka?!"

You beam at her like you're from the heavens above, wrongfully relegated to the depths of sin. Pretend like you love vodka. It's totally not like you panicked when you saw the menu was all in Korean.

Vodka-coke is a universally understood delicacy—the easiest thing for you to order without making a tit of yourself or butchering the pronunciation. When the bartender ignored your botched attempt at ordering in Korean and answered in fluent English, you'd wanted to melt into the floor. So embarrassing.

You're here, like most foreign students, for a language course. Semester is yet to start, and as much as you've studied and practised hard, it's always different when putting it into practice.

"I'm sorry," you laugh. "It's fine—you can order next time!"

But Rae has the exact same predicament as you. If anything, your language skills are better than hers, so you really have no hope. It's vodka-cokes for the evening, or maybe highballs. Once your tipsy brain manages to compute hangul cocktail names, you'll be golden, but that won't be for another few weeks, yet.

You'll look back at this time of your life fondly, realising how simple it all was, even if it feels incredibly overwhelming right now.

Funnily enough, hope is exactly what you have: for the semester ahead, for this new life you're forging, for the opportunities that may come your way.

In fact, by the time you're on your third vodka coke, you've managed to convince yourself you actually like it. You also can't taste it, thanks to the bartender freepouring a 60-40 ratio of vodka to coke in the first drink. Your tastebuds were wiped out pretty much instantly.

Coats in the cloakroom, you're glad to be wearing thin layers. The room is stuffy; your skin sweaty. While meeting new friends had been the goal, you keep to yourself. Dance like nobody is watching. Hold Rae's hands to stay close and ward off weirdos. Quickly realise that clubs back home are slightly different. Pay it no mind. Ignore the intrusions of hands on waists, because men, disappointingly, are no different.

Or at least most of them aren't.

But most of them don't look like the man in the corner booth, laughing with his friends.

Though he is tall, he's eclipsed by his demeanour. Shoulders broad, he's in a dark T-shirt and pair of jeans. Nothing special. Nothing that warrants such a perplexed stare from you - but he's familiar. You can't place him, but he's got the kind of face you swear you've seen before.

Rae doesn't notice the change in your poise, nor how you're desperately trying to work out where you know him from. Perhaps you've seen him around your university? It's only been a couple of weeks, but people are steadily moving in. Maybe he works at the convenience store you constantly find yourself in? Or mans the front desk of the noraebang you and Rae visit pretty much every other evening?

Impossible, you think. If you'd seen him before, you wouldn't have forgotten him, or the way he constantly toys with his lip rings. Plural. There are signs up around the place stating bar rules. NO SMOKING is rule number three. You've seen his friends pass him over a vape a handful of times. Anyone else, and you'd think it was cringe. Embarrassing.

But in the midst of his laughter settling, and a fresh toke being inhaled, his eyes flicker towards yours.

Perhaps it's just because you're drunk, but you don't avert your gaze. Show no shame. The smile on his lips sinks into a smirk as he exhales. An acknowledgement. A 'hello, trouble'.

Again, any other man, you'd find the vape smoke repugnant. Nasty. Now? Watching the way he flicks his tongue against his lip rings?

You wanna know how it tastes.

Black ink weaves an intricate outline of who he is up his arms. Where he's been. Who he's been. A map, if you will, of his soul.

Much like your own tattoos, he's got thick black lines, and little else. Simple, you assume. A man of convenience. Efficiency.

You wonder if he does everything in life with the precision to match his tattoos, and as your lips wrap around the straw of your vodka-coke, you decide you'd quite like to find out.

Interrupted by Rae pulling you deeper into the crowd, your night is spent in and out of shadows. Attempt subtlety. Try not to make your occasional glances to the corner booth noticeable, just checking if his eyes are still on you. More often than not, they aren't—but sometimes they are, and that's enough to fuel your little flirt.

It's not until the sign behind the DJ booth changes from 03:00-04:00, GLOSS into some other guy that you notice your staring contest opponent has slipped into the shadows himself. The booth is void of both him and his friends. Gone.

"GLOSS has a set at another club," Rae all but yells in your ear, and even then, you barely hear her. "All the hotties left when he did. Let's go."

"Where to?!" You laugh, empty cup in hand. Admittedly, the new guy who's stepped into the DJ booth is just not doing it for you. Blu-Tae was just the right amount of unhinged with classics, whereas GLOSS was definitely cooler, but still fun. Had the club yelling curse words over trap remixes just for the fun of it. This new guy, whose name you don't care to remember, takes himself too seriously, you think.

"It's, like, two blocks down," she yells back, tugging on your wrist to drag you to the stairwell that leads you back up to the streets of Seoul. The hustle and bustle of people trying to go in different directions in the tight place forces you apart, but you figure you'll catch up with her, or that she'll be waiting at the top.

You don't know the roads well enough yet to make it to whichever club it's at alone, and quickly realise when you nearly tumble into the side of a waiting taxi that you're far drunker than expected. Knew the bartender was freepouring, but didn't realise just how free those pours really were.

"Woah, easy trouble," a deep voice sounds from behind you as you're steadied to a more stable position.

"I'm good, I'm good!" You insist, shaking off the hands of your 'saviour'. Have no interest in being a damsel in distress, or some sober guy trying to take advantage of you.

Looking down to check your laces are tied properly, you check over your shoulder to make sure the guy isn't creepily waiting for a thank you that he can turn into an intrusive game of 21 questions—'are you open-minded?' or 'do you live alone?'—but when you glance in his direction, you regret it. Notice the tattoos immediately. Recognise the eyes. Want to die.

"Oh."

"Oh," he says back with a smile, imitating you. Suddenly, the confidence you'd had earlier when looking at him from afar dissolves into nothingness, just like the alcohol in your bloodstream. You feel rather sober, but your body would definitely disagree. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," you nod, suddenly a little stuck for words, desperately trying to play things cool. "Are you okay?"

The pouting of his lips as his tongue runs along the inside of his cheek only serves to make you internally cringe. Men who look like him have no business being on streets like this. Should be in a museum. Strung up on the walls with the other masterpieces. Admired by everyone who looks his way.

In a way you don't yet realise, he is.

Though he's not in galleries, he's often burning into people's laptop screens. Is the background of a fair few thousand lock screens. Indeed, he is admired by everyone who looks his way, just not in the traditional sense.

"I'm not the one who just fell into a car," he reminds you, as if you could forget your embarrassment so quickly.

"Was just seeing if you'd catch me," you bullshit, the confidence you usually have returning tenfold. Was just a momentary blip. He's just a man, after all.

"Oh?" He chirps, decidedly curious. "So you fell for me?"

"Stumbled."

"Semantics."

His fluency, and the fact he just said 'semantics' so casually in conversation, clues you in on the fact he might be a language student, too. 

Could be useful study partners for each other, you think, then mentally berate yourself for already masterminding ways to see him again.

"So, where you going?" He asks, not caring to downplay his curiosity. The bartenders were free-pouring his drinks just as severely as they poured yours. The only difference is that his were on the house—'cause you were right. He does have a recognisable face. "Should probably go with you. Make sure you don't fall into the road."

"Stumble," you insist, a little pleased with the boldness of his suggestion, but not wanting to blindly agree. "My friend," you say glancing around, only to find yourself completely alone. "She wanted to go catch the next GLOSS set. So, I guess that's where we're going."

"Just down the road," he says, knowing the schedule like the back of his hand. Bounces from club to club supporting his friends, just like they would for him. If he wanted, he could get a slot up there, too. He doesn't care for it. "I'll walk with you, if you want? My friends are heading there anyway."

It's not a bad offer.

In fact, it's probably the best offer you'll get all night.

"C'mon," he nods his head to the side, encouraging you to follow him. Checks his phone for the time. "Starts in five."

If there's one thing you've indulged in since moving to Seoul, it's how safe you always feel. Security cameras are on every corner, and you've walked home countless times without any issues, even late into the night. While the place isn't perfect, it's far safer than your home country.

Still, you're not a complete idiot.

"It's not wise to follow strange men down dark alleys," you tell him.

He holds out his hand. Waits for you to shake it. Cocks a brow when you hesitate, so introduces himself.

"Jungkook. Nice to meet you. Now, can we please hurry up? I promised I'd be there."

Narrowing your eyes, you don't shake his hand. Arms folded over your chest, there is ice to your exterior, and given how warm his eyes are, you doubt it'll last for very long. May as well keep up this hard-to-get act while you still can.

Walking on past him, you call back, "Alright then. Lead the way."

In the domed mirror meant for reversing cars at the end of a tight alley, you see him laugh. "Wrong way, idiot."

Pausing, you scrunch your face up. Don't turn to face him for at least a second or so—but when you do, you're surprised to see him walking towards you. Hooking his arm around your waist, he carries on walking in the 'wrong' direction, taking you with him.

"Was just fucking with you," he grins. Nods towards a sign by another basement entrance, listing both Blu-Tae and GLOSS.

By the door, Rae is looking around like a mother duck who's just lost some of her ducklings when crossing the road. Breathes a sigh of relief when she spots you.

"C'mon," she grins, then realises who you're with. Says nothing of it, 'cause she doesn't want to be weird, but she recognises him, too. Decides she's just had a little too much to drink. There's no way it's him. Holds out her hand for you.

Reaching out for her, you're let go from Jungkook's grip, ready to get lost in the lights once more.

HAEJANG24 WAUSAN-RO, HONGDAE SATURDAY 05:53

Seoul is a city for the nocturnal. The restaurants and bars are open until the last men are standing. Given how much you've had to drink, you're surprised you still are.

Rae had dipped an hour or so ago. Had hit it off with Mr Blu-Tae himself. Seduced him with the suggestion that their couple name would be Blu-Rae. He'd said they should go to a DVD-bang. Would be fitting. See what Blu-rays were on file.

Naturally, you'd looked on with mild disgust and also admiration for how quickly she'd worked her magic. Everyone knows what goes down in DVD-bangs. Small private rooms, often with projector screens and the world's least comfortable futons, they're somewhere you hope to never end up—but also can't wait to hear all the details the next morning when Rae comes to your room for a debrief.

You'd been left under the surveillance of Jungkook.

"Look after her," Rae had instructed, then narrowed her eyes. "Or I'll destroy your reputation with a single twitter thread, Tokki."

It's a threat he's taken seriously. Knows how the internet works, and even though he's never done anything worthy of a cancellation, he also doesn't intend on starting now. The fact you seem to have no idea who he is during the daylight hours intrigues him. It's a rarity on streets like these.

Even when a few people asked for pictures with him on your walk to the hangover soup place, you didn't clock it as weird. Figured they were friends passing by, wanting to document their chance run-in. Just another memory of the night. The way Jungkook had greeted them was full of warmth, and kindness. Why wouldn't you assume they were mates?

You were also still incredibly drunk at the time, so didn't think to question it. Was keen for food, and Jungkook had insisted on hangover soup, and so that's where you are. Dishes nearly empty, far more of it eaten by him than you, you're laughing about nothing and everything all at once.

"Right," Jungkook declares, deciding he cannot hold in a question that's been tickling at his brain for the entire meal. "What the fuck is that?"

Coat left in the cloakroom, long forgotten about, your tattoos are on full display for him, just like his are for you. Up your arm they trail; a patchwork of teeny tiny identifiers. Latin phrases around skulls, birth flowers of the people you hold close, butterflies and stars. There's an ode to your favourite musician and your favourite Shakespeare quote, too. The fabric of you etched into your skin. There's no reinventing yourself, even half the world away from home.

You know precisely which tattoo Jungkook is asking about. You've asked yourself the same question a few times.

"Fuck off," you laugh.

While most of your tattoos are gorgeous, there's one that was done by a rogue artist on a girlie holiday a few years ago. What was supposed to be a seashell now looks like... well, nothing really. It's just a blob, thanks to the artist being absolutely terrible. The only solace you find in it is that your two best friends have an equally awful permanent reminder of that holiday on their bodies, too.

"It doesn't look how it's supposed to," you explain with a little pout. "I got royally screwed over."

He cocks a brow. You still haven't told him what it is. He isn't gonna ask you twice.

With a grumble, you feebly admit, "A shell."

And then he's laughing. Really laughing. Laughing so hard you think he might piss himself—which you'd actually prefer, because then he could be the embarrassed one, instead.

"I'm calling you Shelly from now on," he says with a broad smile. Has had his fair share of tattoo blunders, and knows you must've developed an affection towards how shitty it is. Would have gotten it covered up, otherwise. "That's incredible."

"You're calling me so such thing," you assure him, but you also can't help but laugh.

"I am," he tells you, then really solidifies it. "Shelly."

"Fuck off," you whine, doubling down. Scanning his arms, you try and pick out anything you can use against him, too. "If I'm Shelly, then you're Mike."

"Mike?!" He protests.

"Yeah," you insist, pointing towards the microphone on his forearm. "Mike."

"You are not calling me Mike. Do I look like a Mike?!"

"Do I look like a Shelly?!"

You've got a point. It's not the name he would have first associated with you - but it is cute, he thinks. Cute how mortified you seem. Cute how you can't help but smile.

After a little bit of back and forth, it's decided that neither of you look like your namesakes.

"Y'know, we kinda have matching tattoos," he says, holding out his arm for you to study. "Or at least, the placements."

And sure enough, below his elbow lives the outline of a bunny sitting on a crescent moon. Holding your own arm out next to his, below your elbow is a butterfly. Above it, is a teeny tiny moon.

Like Jungkook's moon, it's a crescent. Was supposed to symbolise new beginnings. You wonder what his means, but don't ask. Instead, you marvel at the coincidence of it all.

He presses his index finger against the butterfly on the inside of your forearm. The echoing chatter of the restaurant fades softly into nothingness as he says, "Nabi."

You nod. Even if you have spoken with him in English this entire time, it's nice to hear him speak in his mother tongue, no matter how minimal - so you reciprocate. Press your index finger against his bunny. Smile. Say, "Tokki."

It further confirms to Jungkook that you have no idea who he is. Has been a while since he's met a girl in a circumstance like this where that's the case. Likes the anonymity of it all. Is hiding his identity from you, and yet hasn't felt such vulnerability for years.

"Daltokki, right?" You continue, not wanting the silence to linger for too long. "The rabbit in the moon?"

You're not wrong, but you're also not entirely right.

"Yeah," he smiles regardless. "That's it."

JUNGKOOK'S APARTMENT ITAEWON-DONG, YONGSAN-GU SATURDAY 07:12

"Shhh," Jungkook quietly laughs. 

His hand is over your mouth and the other is on your hip as he guides you into his apartment. With your back to his chest, you've both been giggling for the entire ride to his place.

He had insisted that he should walk you home, and was surprised by the offense you seemed to have taken by this. You then told him that he absolutely could not seduce you, and that it was very gender-role-conforming for him to think that you were incapable of getting home by yourself.

"Maybe I should be the one to make sure you get home safely," you had said with a false sense of concern, which had made him laugh quite considerably.

In all reality, you didn't mind him offering to get you home. You just hadn't tidied your room. Didn't really expect to be taking a boy back to your place, much less one that looks like him.

Together, you'd caught the early morning bus over to Itaewon instead of a taxi, 'cause you're still on a student budget and Jungkook wasn't quite ready to blow his cover just yet.

You've been teasing him—questioning his status as a potential International Super Spy—ever since he took your hand and guided you into one of the flashiest apartment complexes you've ever been in. There was security. Doormen. A passcode for the elevator—not to mention that he was heading up to the seventh floor once you were in it. Might not sound like much, but when there are only seven floors to the entire building, it makes it the penthouse by default.

"It's not a penthouse," he'd insisted. "Plus, I live with friends. Only pay a third of the rent."

But a third of his rent is more money than you'll probably see in three months of post-grad work. You're drunk, but you're not stupid. You also know that the rental market here differs significantly from your home country. Monthly rent is cheap, but the deposits are extortionate. Sure, he'll get it back when he leaves, but to have the initial money needed for a place like this? He's not a regular student, if one at all, that much is sure.

"Not sure who's home," Jungkook whispers as you both kick your shoes off in the entryway. Given the looks of the other shoes, it's clear that this is a guys-only living situation. You're proven right when he continues, "Betcha Tae's still in that damn DVD-bang, but Yoongi might be back."

"Yoongi?" You question.

"GLOSS," Jungkook says, remembering how oblivious you are to who he is. Reaching down to grab your shoes, he isn't gonna leave them by the door. Will take them to his room. Doesn't want the boys asking questions, if they are in. Knows they'll just use it as an excuse to publicly roast him whenever they're next online together.

Given that a stream is scheduled for Sunday night, he doesn't want to tempt fate.

Their current choice of wind-up, which the viewers have been eating up, is the joke that Jungkook is a virgin. He's not, but he never knows how to defend himself without sounding like a tool, so always gets a little awkward. A lot of their viewers love it. Join in on the joke. Some take it seriously. He doesn't care.

Next month, Taehyung will do something dumb, and he'll become the favourite joke for a while. Maybe Yoongi. But for now, it's Jungkook.

None of them take it to heart. They're just a group of friends who share their gaming hangouts online, and accidentally made it to the top of the ranks.

They aren't particularly good at gaming, but that's part of the charm. Crescent Collective is how they're known: Blu-Tae, GLOSS and Tokki.

After a bet went wrong, and they all lost, they ended up with moon tattoos and their respective 'symbols'. Jungkook's is a rabbit, Tae's is a blu-ray DVD disk (because he really is committed to the bit), and Yoongi's is stars to symbolise the shine of fresh gloss. Jungkook's makes the most sense. Yoongi's is pretty decent. Taehyung's is just... Well, it's very him.

Sliding open the door into the main living area, Jungkook has to cover your mouth again when you gasp at the sheer size of the place.

"I thought butterflies were supposed to be silent?" He teases. "Quiet for me, Nabi."

His place is bigger than your family home, you think. Hushing you again, he's laughing—and then he's cursing at the sight of a half-naked Yoongi by the kitchen counter.

In his boxers, with half a clementine slice hanging from his lips, he's just as shocked to see Jungkook with you. Gets over it pretty quickly.

"Don't mind me," he says, chewing down on the fruit with a smirk. Looks towards you. "Apologies for the lack of clothes."

With your shoes hooked on his fingers, Jungkook's other large hand is still over your mouth. You're not sure you can form any words as it is, but you do notice the crescent moon and stars on Yoongi's ribs.

"Not a word to Tae," is all Jungkook says. Knows that he'll be in for a world of teasing tomorrow if he gets wind of it. "I mean it."

Holding his hands up, Yoongi's still smirking, but he is backing away into a room just off the kitchen. "My lips are sealed."

Watching as he closes the door, you wonder how much truth is in his words. Jungkook knows it's absolute bullshit. Chooses not to dwell on it. Loosens his grip on you and heads towards his own room. Turns back to check you're following him, and can't help but smile when he knows that you are.

Tossing your shoes just inside the door, Jungkook is quick to pick up a pair of jeans he'd left on the floor, before chucking them over his desk chair. He tweaks his bedding. Straightens it out. Looks a little shy as he turns to face you.

"Made it home safe," he says quietly, as you close the door behind you.

You nod. Keep a little distance. Say, "It's dangerous to sleep after drinking. Make sure you build a tower of pillows in the middle of your bed so you don't roll onto your back."

Both of you are far more sober than you were earlier. There's no need to worry about anything like that.

And yet he nods, now. Says, "You're probably right. You can always stay, though. Just to check I don't die in my sleep, or whatever."

"It'd be the responsible thing to do," you nod, wondering if he can tell just how fast your heart is beating. "But I don't have any pyjamas."

Jungkook swallows. The way he looks at you now is entirely different to how he'd looked at you in the club. Back then, he'd been bold. Flirtatious.

Now, he seems vulnerable. Needy.

"I sleep in my underwear," he tells you, unsure if you'll actually be sleeping. While he likes the idea of fucking you, part of him doesn't want to. Fears it'll ruin the magic of the unknown. The way he throbs at the mere thought of it would suggest that his hopes outweigh his fears. "I don't mind, if you don't."

The clothes Jungkook's wearing are baggy. You've seen nothing of his figure.

Reaching for the nape of his neck, he tugs on the fabric of his T-shirt. Pulls it over his head and discards it in one swift movement. The sound of it crumpling on the floor is abrasive in how it makes you feel. Raw. Unrefined. You suppose it's just a natural consequence of seeing the toned muscles of his chest. How his waist defies what you thought was possible for masculine builds, and how broad his chest is. The indent of his collarbones, and the lines of his pelvis that draw your eyes downwards.

A pair of Calvins peek just above the waistband of his jeans, and a silver chain rests around his neck. Light from the city filters in, and LED lights around his impressive computer set-up paint him in a hue of violet.

"No," you manage to reply, which is a miracle, you think. "I don't mind."

And then you reciprocate. Reach for the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head, letting the fabric fall to the floor. Seeing him swallow back his nerves, or maybe his desires, makes you feel far bolder than you should.

"It's really uncomfortable to sleep in jeans," you tell him.

He nods. Agrees. Threads the button of his trousers through its loop. Doesn't take them off yet. Waits for you to do the same. Keeps his eyes firmly locked on yours. Doesn't let his gaze wander, no matter how much he has to fight all his instincts not to fully take you in. Is still pretending like he doesn't want you in the most indecent of ways.

The room you're in right now is known worldwide. 

People set it as their zoom backgrounds. It's on Pinterest. There are YouTube videos attempting to recreate the set-up. If he were to power up his computer—which, in all fairness, is only on standby—and go live, there'd be a thousand viewers within minutes. Doesn't matter what he plays, or who he's with. He doesn't give it much thought anymore. Is just life.

Sometimes, he regrets not being a faceless streamer, but he also knows that it's part of the appeal. Connection, and the fantasy that comes with this almost dystopian, parasocial idea of it.

After all, the meeting of his eyes with yours across a busy club led you to this point. Human connection in the simplest of ways, that he thinks could culminate in the most complex of ways, too.

"Okay," he says. "So take them off."

"You want me to?" You ask just to tease a little bit, and when a smile flickers onto his seemingly nervous lips, you're glad you did.

"You think we'd be here right now if I didn't?" He says with a tweak of his brows.

"You've got a point."

With that, you push your jeans down and reveal the matching set of black underwear you're in. It's nothing special. In fact, it's not really a set, but it's close enough that it'd fool anyone who didn't know.

Jungkook, in this moment, is indeed a beautiful fool.

There's a lopsided grin on his face as he lets his eyes rake down your body. Is shameless as he indulges in you. Nods, as he bites down on his bottom lip.

"It's cold," you tell him, urging him along a little bit.

"Shit," he says without much thought. "Sorry. Was just... Yeah. Shit."

It's both endearing and wholly confusing how Jungkook flips from confident to cute. A man of duality. It makes you giggle, and then you're the one biting down on your bottom lip. Are both a little bashful. A little shy.

"I'm only here to make sure you don't die in your sleep," you remind him before it goes any further.

Looking at him now, knowing you want him in the worst of ways, it's testing all of your willpower not to just cut to the chase.

Thing is, you liked his company tonight. Want it again. Want to give him a reason to seek you out once more. Want him thinking about you in clubs, and looking for you in crowded bars. Pining. Yearning. Needy.

"It's already gone seven," he tells you, walking towards his bed. Knocks his head to the side. Silently tells you to follow suit. "Will probably only get a couple hours in."

"Better than nothing. Plus, you're actually really irritating," you bullshit as you get into bed with him. Are adamant you won't fuck him, but you do let him pull you in closer.

"Oh, yeah?" He grins.

"Mhmm," you nod, pretending as if you aren't looking at his lips. "You'll be less annoying when you're asleep."

"I'm never gonna sleep again," he assures you. "Will annoy you forever."

"I know where the front door is," you say as you stroke a few of his loose, wavy hairs back behind his ears. They fall freely almost right away, but it just gives you another excuse to play with it "I can just leave. I'm only here to make sure you don't die in your sleep. Pointless if you're awake."

"So I have to be asleep for you to stay?"

"Mhmm," you hum.

He immediately loosens his grip on you and flops into an overdramatic sleeping position. Fake snores. Gets you giggling. Can't hide his smile, either. Laughs through the god-awful noises he's making.

But it is late, and you're both tired. As much as he'd like to stay awake with you, the pull of sleep is just too tempting now that you're beneath his sheets. It's not like he doesn't wanna fuck you. His semi is very much present, but neither of you mention it.

"Y'know what's sad about butterflies?" Jungkook mumbles after the laughter dies down. He carefully begins to trace the lines of your tattoo, eyes entirely focused on the tip of his finger.

You purr a response before you fully vocalise one. "Tell me."

He glances up at you only very momentarily. Looks back down. Is quiet when he says, "How quickly they die. Spend over half their lifespan growing into these beautiful creatures, and then they have, what—A week? Two? Three, tops—and then they're gone. It's like the cherry blossoms in spring. Beautiful, and then—" He clicks his fingers. "—gone."

Stroking back some loose strands of his hair, you wonder if he's thinking about you. About this chance encounter. Beautiful, then gone.

"Just means you have to appreciate them while they're still around," you say softly. "Cherish them, because you know you only have them for a moment."

His gaze lifts to meet yours. The reflection of his LED lights makes it seem like butterflies are floating around in his deep, dark eyes, too.

There are stories he could tell you of ancient folklore; about human souls taking the form of butterflies. Of justice, and peace, and spirits. Of back in time, when tigers still smoked. He could tell you of his favourite butterflies. Of the black butterflies that are as large as his hands in the summer. Of the huge display in a museum downtown that would transfix him as a child.

Instead, he gently presses his lips against the lines of your butterfly tattoo.

The rate at which your heart is beating multiplies. Like a swarm of butterflies chasing through your veins, you've no control over the way you're feeling. He's brought your artwork to life; set the souls inside of your butterfly free, only for it to be apparent that the souls belonged to the both of you, anyway.

You know that this is one of those moments; a butterfly passing on by through your lives. Here, and then gone. Beautiful, but fleeting.

There's a shyness to Jungkook now, as he rolls onto his back. A reluctance to get things wrong. He doesn't look at you, just nibbles on his bottom lip and pretends as if the empty white ceiling ahead of him is the most interesting thing he's seen all night.

It's not.

You are.

You, and those eyes that make him feel like the butterfly on your arm is tickling at his tummy. He finds himself jealous when he faces you again and begins tracing the thin lines of your butterfly once more. Wants to embed himself into you like the ink that's carved out a home in your skin.

"Sorry," he mumbles, seemingly regretful of the tender kiss he'd pressed against your arm just a short moment ago. "Don't know why I did that."

"It's okay," you reply without much thought. Like him, you're letting the way you feel dictate the words you say. Care not for playing coy. "I liked it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Jungkook wants to stop his mouth from letting his desires escape. The issue is, he drank a little too much tonight and his lips are a little too loose. Too bad. Can't help himself from asking, "Can I do it again?"

You're just as bad.

"Yeah," you whisper. "Please."

The way his lashes splay against his cheeks as he presses another kiss to your arm is nothing short of celestial. Like that damn moon on his arm, he's got a beauty about him that's hard to capture in words. Ethereal feels too fantastical, but gorgeous feels too dense. He resides in a realm somewhere between the two. Somewhere you'd like to stay forever.

Forever, sadly, only lasts a few hours. You've brunch plans with new friends you can't bail on yet for fear of running a friendship before it's even begun.

You see yourself out. Jungkook's still asleep. Not quite 10AM, you've a dozen missed calls from Rae, and a cold can of coke waiting for you in your fridge. Funnily enough, though, you don't really feel hungover. Must have gotten it all out of your system the night before.

It's only fitting, when you think about Jungkook on the subway home, and how soberingly drunk the idea of him makes you feel. 

YONSEI UNIVERSITY DORMS DAESIN-DONG, SEODAEMUN-GU SUNDAY 21:39

Brunch had, predictably, been a yawn-fest.

The people were perfectly nice, but you spent the entire time thinking about Jungkook; how you'd left him in a pretty slumber, the LEDs behind his computer still glowing, with not even so much as a note to say thank you.

It's not like he had any paper on his desk, and you weren't about to start rummaging around his room. You also didn't want to wake him. Part of it was because you knew you'd be saying goodbye, and the concept of that was one that you didn't like all that much.

And so your subway ride back to your dorm had been spent searching his name. He didn't take long to find. 

From the club's Instagram, you found GLOSS and quickly discovered that there was far more to both him and Blu-Tae than just being DJs. Their follower counts were wild. Numbers you know you'll never see on your own account. Verification check marks accented their display names. 

Who are you? You'd thought to yourself, incredibly perplexed by it all.

Jungkook was littered all over their pages, and yet it still took a while for you to click through to his account. You're not sure why, but think that perhaps the unknown was a nice place to reside within. Safer. 

CR3SC3NT_T0KK1 was his username—and curiously, Tokki was also his display name. Brows furrowed, you'd almost dropped your phone when you saw his follower count. It eclipsed both of his friends. 

Filled with gaming set-ups, merch drops, and general life dumps, it was pretty clear that whoever Jungkook had made himself out to be the night before was not who he was in real life. 

Equal parts offended and intrigued, you were only more confused when you saw that Rae was already following him—but not following Taehyung.

"What?" she'd beamed when you'd asked her about it after you'd arrived home from brunch, a scoop of hangover ice cream being waved around in the air with her flamboyant gestures. "He's, like, one of the biggest streamers in the country—and if I want to keep Tae obsessed with me, we need as many connections as possible. Jungkook's a frog to me, baby, not a prince. Don't you worry your little cotton socks. I'm not after him."

"I wouldn't care if you were," you'd blatantly lied in response, and then you'd giggled together at how ridiculous you were both being over boys you didn't really know.

Hovering over the bright purple 'JOIN STREAM' button later that evening, part of you holds back. Think it'd be weird. Strange. That he'd somehow know it was you.

Dipping your mouse, you tick the checkbox to join as an anonymous viewer. Take a breath. Think fuck it. Watch with bated breath as the loading wheel turns—and then he's there.

Jeon Jungkook has the kind of beauty that transcends shitty quality streams. Smiling as he jokes with one of his friends through a headset with a pair of black bunny ears affixed to the top of them, you hear a voice you almost recognise. Notice the friend he's streaming with in the top corner. Realise you do know him, too.

Hair as blue as the trees are green, Tae has just as much boyish charm as Jungkook, but also an incredibly large hickey that seems to match the ones on Rae's neck.

"Nah, can we get an L in the chat for Kook," he's teasing. Sure enough, the chat begins to explode with the letter, and Jungkook looks so pretty when he protests.

"It's not an L!"

"It is!" Tae insists. "Should have seen him, guys. Was following this girl around like a lovesick puppy—"

"No, I wasn't!"

"And she didn't even give him her number. Not even her name!"

"That's not true!" Jungkook whines. He switches between Korean and English with ease, sometimes just single words, other times whole sentences. "I have a name."

"What is it?"

"Not telling you."

"Cause you don't have one!"

"No, because you'll all make my life a living hell," Jungkook laughs—and then notices a bright blue comment lighting up in the chat. His eyes widen. "Fuck."

GLOSS: Was calling her Nabi when he got home last night Almost shit his pants when he saw me

"Yoongi, I'm gonna shave your eyebrows off in your sleep," Jungkook growls—only for the chat to start spamming butterfly emojis. Closing his eyes, he leans back in his chair, the still paused video game long forgotten about, now. Thousands of people are in their chat, and even more are watching the stream.

"Guys, get it trending," Taehyung goads. "Tweet, I dunno, bunny and butterfly emojis."

"Don't do that!"

"Hashtag find Jungkook's butterfly."

"Do NOT do that!"

"I'm like a modern-day cupid," Taehyung beams.

"I'm shaving your eyebrows, too."

Closing the stream, you sit for a moment, mouth ajar, unable to process what on earth you've just witnessed. Part of you feels as if it must have an incredibly vivid daydream; a projection of your heart's desire.

And you know you shouldn't, but when you get home from running errands the following day, you join the stream again. Blush when you notice the chat is still teasing Jungkook.

"I'm gonna block you all," he threatens them with a grin, which only encourages them to send even more butterfly emojis.

The next day is no different, nor the day after that.

He is, though. Has been letting it all play on his mind. Doesn't have much of a filter when it comes to streaming.

"What if she didn't even like me, guys," he whines to the chat. "And sees this and is like... mortified. I think I'd punch myself in the face if she ever saw any of this."

You toy with the idea of sending a comment into the chat. Something that only he'd realise was you. Thing is, you feel bad for intruding. As if you shouldn't be prying. As if you're eavesdropping on him chatting with friends, and not on the stream he's broadcasting live around the world.

Typing out a message, you deliberate your choice.

Punch urself in the face pls, tokki x the message reads. 

Simple. Effective. To the point.

But everyone calls him that, you stupidly realise, now.

And so you change the name to 'Mike'. 

Before you can even really realise what you've done, you've pressed send.

The message flitters into the chat feed. He's about to resume his game. Doesn't notice it at first.

Gives the chat one final glance, and then his eyes widen. He sits up taller. Straighter. "Mike?"

You close the lid of your laptop immediately.

"Fuck."

THE STREETS WAUSAN-RO, HONGDAE FRIDAY 23:51

"Tae is on in five," Rae squeals, dragging you down the road at lightning speed. 

You'd spent far too long at dinner, and also had far too much to drink with your food, so have been forced to make an undignified sprint to the club in an attempt to make it in before the place reaches capacity.

There's already a queue. You can see it from a mile away.

Realistically, Rae could have gotten Taehyung to add her to the guest list. He'd offered. She didn't wanna look needy, so had played it coy about her plans for the evening. 

After a single beer and soju, she'd decided that the idea of him hooking up with anyone but her simply wouldn't do.

"Shit," she sighs in defeat, looking at the queue. The direction you've come from means that you reach the entrance before you reach the queue, but even then, you can tell it goes around the block. "Are there no other clubs these people can go to?!"

There are—but this club is rammed tonight for the same reason Club Sundown was rammed the week before. People want to see the Crescent Collective. 

You didn't realise it at the time, but you'd bypassed the queue of the second club last weekend because Jungkook had been with you.

And as if by a stroke of luck, or perhaps a twist of fate, the same tattooed hand that had held you as you slept last weekend is now putting out a cigarette just a few steps away.

Eyes landing on yours, he looks away again, almost immediately. Feels embarrassed. Stupid. For the way you left him, and also for the way he knows you must know who he is, now.

Behind a red rope, he's away from the general crowd. It's sort of obnoxious, you think—but also know Jungkook is anything but.

"They're with me," Jungkook says to the bouncer, not really looking at you, but nodding in your general direction. Is deliberately keeping a little distance. Instead, he says to Rae, "Tae wouldn't want you waiting in line."

Nodding, the security guard makes way for you, stamping the backs of your hands with UV-activated ink as you walk past.

"Thank you!" Rae beams.

"No worries," Jungkook smiles right back. "He's about to start. Was just getting air. You're lucky you arrived when you did."

"Angel," she praises. "I'll get you a drink while we're in there."

You know her well enough now to know that she absolutely will not, but you don't say anything. Instead, you fold your arms over your chest as you walk, suddenly feeling all awkward in Jungkook's presence.

"Nabi," he curtly greets you as you head down the stairs.

"Tokki," you greet him back just as formally. Consider calling him 'Mike' instead, but you chicken out.

Face scrunching up, Jungkook tries his best not to cringe at himself. Doesn't know if you're addressing him by his tattoo moniker, or just calling him Tokki because you know it's his identifier online.

"How have you been?" He asks, not wanting to let it simmer.

"Alright," you say, aware of how awkward this all feels, as you descend the stairs and into the club. The music is getting louder, and soon you won't be able to hear him talk unless you're in each other's ears. "And you?"

"Alright."

Just as quickly as he appeared, Jungkook is lost to the crowd. 

He doesn't care to stick around if he's just going to be hung out to dry by you again. He tells himself that he only made sure you got in to keep Rae happy for Taehyung's sake—yet as he rejoins his friends in their booth, he finds himself desperately seeking you out again.

It takes him a while, but he eventually spots you by the bar in conversation with Rae. He can't make out what you're saying, but notices how your eyes are flickering around the room. Seems as if you're hunting for something. 

Deep down, even if he pretends like he doesn't, he hopes it's for him.

Pulled away from your search by the bartender passing over drinks to the pair of you, Jungkook feels bad. Knows the drinks are pricey in this place. Also knows, from the conversations you've already had, that you're on a tight budget. Had said that once the semester starts, you'll stop going to parties. Are seemingly unaware of the fact the parties never stop in this city. You'll learn.

When your eyes finally land on his a little while later, you're surprised by his intense gaze—intrigued by his lack of shame for being caught out. He doesn't look away or appear embarrassed. If anything, it's quite the opposite.

Girls are vying for his attention all around him, yet you receive all of it. Half the room away, hundreds of people create a sea between you both. Jungkook thinks he'd swim through it, no matter how choppy the water, if it meant he could have you right now.

You're the one who left, though. 

It's up to you to come back.

Part of you doesn't want to, but then you see another girl making advances, and Rae's horror over other girls trying it on with Taehyung seems to have rubbed off on you. The idea of it makes your skin crawl. You're drunk, and a little reactive, but Jungkook likes playing with fire.

As you work your way through the crowd towards him, he tries his best not to grin. Finds himself vindicated in his desire to be close to you, 'cause it seems like you want it, too.

Sliding in between Jungkook and the girl, you turn and apologise.

"Just need to borrow him for a second," you smile, clutching at his shirt and pulling him away from the booth before she even has a chance to protest.

With an ever-so-satisfied smirk, Jungkook shrugs towards the other girl, and lets you drag him wherever you want. He's putty in your hands, a little tipsy and desperately in need of attention from you. 

For the past week, he's played scenario over scenario over scenario in his head about this moment, and now that it's happening, he's glad he let you seek him out. Is so pleased that you actively want him just as much as he wants you.

In the middle of the crowd, you're hidden from prying eyes. It's too dark to notice any discerning features of the people around you, yet somehow, Jungkook seems like a vibrant golden light to you. Impossible to miss. Unable to ignore.

You wanna talk. Ask him about who the fuck he is. Explain that you didn't mean to leave so heartlessly.

Taehyung's set is so overwhelmingly loud, though. Can barely even hear yourself think.

As soon as he'd spotted Rae in the crowd, Taehyung had sent the bar coordinator to go and get her. She's sitting pretty up in the DJ booth, incredibly pleased with herself. Notices you and Jungkook almost immediately. Knows it'll be on Twitter in the next few hours, especially if that damn butterfly tattoo of yours is noticed.

Bunnies and butterflies have been trending for days.

Jungkook speaks, but you can't hear him.

"Huh?" You ask, getting on your tippy toes, but it's fruitless. Even as his hand drops to your waist to steady you and keep you in place, you can barely make out his words. "I can't hear you!"

He can't hear jack shit, either. Frowns. Looks around. Spots Yoongi by the booth and gestures towards the side of the room. When Yoongi nods back, it's Jungkook who drags you through the crowd, now. Just beyond the DJ booth is a little black door that Yoongi meets you by. Taps in the code. Nods in your direction.

"A pleasure," he says with a knowing smirk. Miraculously, you can hear him, but ultimately, it's because you're not in the direct line of the speakers now.

You don't get a chance to respond before Jungkook gets you into what can only described as a dark hole as quickly as he can. Romance, you think to yourself, but you also are very aware of the fact Jungkook doesn't let go of your hand, even when he's searching for the light switch. It takes him a second, but he manages to recall the approximate location quickly enough.

Dingy yellow light floods into the room. Small and boxy, it's a 3-in-1 storage room, bathroom, and dressing room for 'talent'. It's why Yoongi had the code, but you can't imagine anyone with any shred of self-respect actually using this place. The walls are the same grey tiles as the floor, and the light bulb hangs from a wire without a shade. The tap on the sink drips, and you're pretty sure there's a leak in the far corner by the mirror.

None of that matters, though. All you can focus on is the man in front of you. Though not soundproof, the room does offer a far more muted version of Taehyung's set. More importantly, it provides you with privacy.

It's been a week since you last saw him, face to face.

Though you have, admittedly, seen him what feels like a million times on low-quality streams from his bedroom.

Realistically, it's been about three times, but you think about it almost constantly.

"You left," is all he says, a little pout on his lips.

It's cute, you think, that he is so outwardly offended by such an act. You would have thought that a man of his position would have a habit of leaving, himself. Then again, you didn't know of his status when you left him in bed that morning.

"And you didn't die," you reply with a teasing smile, trying not to make it sound so severe. "You were fine without me."

"I'm not joking," he says, even if he can't help but smile at the recollection of how stupid the conversation before bed had been. "You left. It was rude."

"I had brunch plans," you tell him, reaching your hands out for his. He wants to resist. Fails. Lets you pull him closer. Incredibly close, in fact. So close that you begin to notice all sorts of things. His freckles. A small scar on his cheek. A tiny fleck of glitter on his skin, no doubt from one of the girls who had been desperate for his attention earlier. "You'd only had a few hours sleep. I didn't want to disturb you."

"Could have left a note," he says, still pouty but far quieter. You can smell the Jack on his breath. Have always hated the taste, but think you could grow to like it. "Your number. Something, at least."

"I could've," you admit, edging even closer. Closing the gap. Nudging your nose against his. But then you smile. Pull back. Tease, "And you could have warned me that I'd become a trending topic on Twitter."

Just like that, Jungkook's pout snaps into the prettiest smile. His face scrunches up, lines creasing on his nose. Beneath his closed eyes reside the sweetest little puffs. He's got the kind of face that is impossible not to like.

"Ah," he cringes.

"Yeah," you laugh at the stupidity of it all. What did he expect? That you wouldn't find out? "Ah."

"In my defence," he holds his hands up, eyes wide and innocent. "You called me Tokki. How was I to know you didn't know?"

"Oh, give over," you laugh, as he reaches for your hands once again. Pulls you closer. "You know I didn't know."

Truthfully, he does know this, but it was nice to be unknown for a little while. Nice to not second guess your intentions. Even now, knowing that you know, he feels like none of it matters. 

"Look," he begins, toying with the hem of your cropped shirt. Lets his fingertips graze your bare skin. Tries his best not to think about what you look like half-naked. Fails. "I only came out tonight 'cause I hoped I'd see you. I don't care about staying out till ass-o'clock, again."

"Think I've only just caught up on sleep," you hum, angling your chin up and giving him the perfect opportunity to make a move that goes beyond flirtatious touches.

"Exactly," he smiles, letting his hand squeeze the side of your waist. Pulls you closer. "And I've not drunk half as much tonight, but I think I could do with you making sure I don't die, again."

"Yeah?"

Nodding as he nudges his nose against yours, Jungkook is all smiles. Lets his lips line up against your pout.

"Yeah," he mumbles—then lets the word get lost in your lips.

Sinking into what it feels like to kiss you, Jungkook can't help but feel satisfaction. Has finally caught the damn butterfly he's been after all week. 

He's played a lot of games. Won a lot of battles.

And yet victory has never tasted so sweet.

JUNGKOOK'S APARTMENT ITAEWON-DONG, YONGSAN-GU SATURDAY 02:07

You retrace your steps. Get a taxi to his place, 'cause there's no point pretending like he can't afford it. Not anymore.

You're not giggling like you were the first time you were in his elevator, but it's kind of impossible to do so when your back is to the wall and Jungkook's tongue is in your mouth.

Your hands roam his body—waist, ass. If you can squeeze it, you will. Just makes him deepen the kisses. If his large hands weren't cupping your jaw, keeping you close, they'd be doing the exact same thing as yours.

The ding of the elevator pulls you apart just for a second, and then you're the one pulling him down to the corridor to his place.

He doesn't open the door. Just kisses you again. 

Finally understands what it means to get butterflies, 'cause he's got you, now, and he never wants to lose it.

Hooking his hands beneath your ass, he hoists you up. Gets your legs wrapped around him. Could go in, but where's the fun in that? There's a slight danger of getting caught. He knows the hallway security cameras will definitely pick this up. The threat that it could get leaked online, and the simple fact that he couldn't give a shit if it does, is kind of hot.

"I'm not fucking you out here," you tell him through a hushed giggle, when he rests his forehead against yours.

"Woah," he jokes. "Who said anything about fucking?"

"I can literally feel your boner, Jungkook."

"Touché."

He doesn't even attempt to downplay it. He puts you down. Gets you through the threshold of his apartment. Shoes off by the door, there's no need to be quiet. Yoongi and Taehyung are still out, and will be for hours. He could take his time if he really wanted.

But what he wants is you. Doesn't waste time. Gets you in his room. Kinda feels like you never left. Jungkook still wishes you hadn't, but doesn't mind the idea of you making it up to him now.

"So," you hum, trailing your fingertips across his desk. "This is where the magic happens?"

He smiles a little bashfully, head dropping for a moment before his eyes are on yours again. "Yeah. You could say that."

Now that you're back in his space, it's a little embarrassing just how many clues there were. A headset rests on the desk—black, robust, with his signature bunny ears secured on top—and a mic is hooked up by the monitor. The webcam doesn't look special, but the keyboard subtly glows in his darkened room. Violet, like the LEDs behind his screen.

A laptop covered in vinyl stickers is closed next to the set-up. He uses it when he's not streaming on his desktop. At least three of the stickers are of the Crescent Collective's logo.

Turning to fully face him, you rest your palms behind yourself and perch on the edge of the desk.

He gets a little kick out of seeing you so flippantly disregard the domain in which he dominates. Gives him a point to prove. Gets him closing the space between you, hands on your waist, dipping to your ass to leverage further back on his desk. Knows it's sturdy, 'cause he built it himself, but has never tested out quite how strong it really is. Thinks now's as good a time as any to find out.

Your legs wrap around his body with no thought, just the innate understanding that you want him in a way you're sure thousands of people have only dreamt of: in his room, on his desk, that damn 'Go Live' button just a few short clicks away.

Reaching beside you, there's a smirk on your lips as you retrieve his headset. Put it on him. Say, "The ears are cute, Tokki."

He rolls his eyes. Is fighting a smile, and currently losing. He's seen some lewd shit during his time on the internet and is well aware of the fanart that includes the ears and little else. Always found it kinda funny, before.

Now? He's so hard it almost hurts, and he thinks he could grow to like it.

As your arms drape over his shoulders, he takes them off. Puts them on you, instead. Adjusts the sizing. Gets them just right for you. Is attentive, like that. Pulls his head back a little, and then realises what a problem you're gonna be for him.

It's not so much the addition of animal ears that's getting him insatiable, but seeing you adorned with a crown that is so inherently his that does it.

Jungkook's no saint. He's had his fair share of one-nighters. A couple hours of fun never to be spoken of again. Since the group of them signed to their management agency, they've been repeatedly told how important it is to get NDA's signed. Something about it always feels so icky to Jungkook. Cruel, almost. Has only had a couple hook-ups since then, both with flings he's known for a good couple of years, with no fear of them spilling the beans on how prettily he whines when he cums.

You're the first new girl in a long time. He knows he should really pause things before you cut to the chase—but then your hand is trailing down his thick forearm, delicately stroking his rabbit moon with a curious smile. Decides he doesn't care.

"The ears are cute," he replies. Teasingly adds, "Nabi."

The position of your arms over his shoulders ensures the tattoos he'd traced the week before are fully displayed for him. As his eyes drop to your butterfly, you're curiously smitten by the way his lips move to press a kiss against it again.

"Suit me?"

"Mhmm," he hums, eyes flickering back up to yours. "Should also get you a pair of butterfly wings, or something."

"I'd make you wear them," you tell him with a cheeky glint in your eye. "Turn you into a butterfly, yourself. Your girlies in the chat would love that."

Jungkook knows without a shadow of a doubt he'd let you. Not for the girlies in the chat, but for you.

Ghosting his lips against yours, he's waiting for you to press down. Is letting you take the lead.

Your kisses are sweet. Tepid. Reserved.

You're feeling; his hands on your waist, the pressure of his lip rings, the presence of his nose.

And then he's feeling; your bare skin as his large hands slip beneath the fabric of your shirt, the way your legs wrap around him, the vibration of a small groan against his lips.

The skirt you're in is bunched around your hips, and the positioning is just right for you to feel how hard he is against your underwear. It's a little undignified, you'll admit, but you're impatient, so you take control. Reposition his hand between your legs. Encourage him to take things further.

"Yeah?" He checks.

Nodding into a needy kiss, you mumble, "Please."

It might've been a while, but Jungkook's muscle memory is enviable. He's the best player on the team for that very reason.

As he hooks your underwear to the side, he's pleased to be greeted with indications of your arousal. Smirks into the kisses he's giving you, as his fingertips graze against your clit. Trails his lips to your neck. Wants to hear the way you gasp as he pushes his thick middle finger inside you.

"Fuck," you sigh at the welcome intrusion. Nod, as he curls his finger almost immediately. He's got a lot to thank those damn video games for, that's for sure.

Softly moaning, just how he hoped you would, there's an arch to your back as he picks up a pace. The need to perform, almost.

Head tipping back as Jungkook fucks another finger into you, you're unable to think too cognitively. Can only think about the way he feels. The smell of his hair as he presses kisses against your neck, and how prominent his collarbones are as your nails trail up his toned torso.

"Feels so good," you tell him. Move the hand of yours that's been resting on his shoulder to his hair. Tug on it a little. Elicit the prettiest of whines from him.

There's something to be said for making a man—especially one of such strength, stature, status—so weak. Gets you all giggly. Jungkook can feel the satisfaction ripple through your entire body, and it just makes him groan against your neck even more.

"You're so wet," he praises, pulling back to study your face as he plays with you. Lets his thumb stroke up against your clit ever so gently. Revels in the way you get a little shaky. Twitchy. With those damn bunny ears, you really are like a little rabbit. Jungkook finally understands why the fan artists choose to draw him in such a way. It is hot. "You're making me so fuckin' hard."

And then you're giggling again.

"Is it a joke to you, huh?" He smirks. Looks down at your pussy, all swollen and sopping wet for him, in the hazy violet light of his room. Knows that his throbbing cock is gonna stuff you so fuckin' full that laughing won't be an option. Is desperate for it. "How badly I want you is just a big joke to you, huh, bunny?"

The way he groups you in with his moniker is too damn hot.

"Dunno," you rasp, desperately trying to hold off the orgasm that's building inside you. "Fuck me and find out."

Reaching for the button of his trousers, you're quick as you wrestle his jeans down over his ass. Don't bother pushing them down entirely. Just enough to get his boxers exposed, and in turn, his thick cock. Hard and engorged, his desperation for you is evident. A small patch of precum seeps through the fabric of his boxers. He curses as your thumb strokes against it.

"Condom?" You ask, knowing you've got none on you.

"Hold that thought," he says, regretfully pulling away from you.

Watching on as he pushes down his jeans, and strips himself of his shirt, you're at a loss for words. You've seen him like this before, but it's so much hotter knowing that he's gonna be fucking himself into you as soon as he possibly can.

Jungkook could very easily lead you to his bed. Get you comfy. Reach to his bedside cabinet for a condom. Fuck you how he likes—doggy-style, minimal face-to-face contact—and be done with it all very quickly.

Instead, he says, "Stay here."

Doing as you're told, you watch on as he walks to the cabinet, and retrieves a condom. Admire his back, and his broad shoulders. The valley of his spine, and the hard work he's put into crafting his physique. Smirk to yourself as he dips into his boxers. Strokes himself. Once, twice. Tears the packet open with his teeth, just like you were always taught not to do, and rolls the latex down his thick shaft.

"What?" he smirks as he walks back, realising your eyes are transfixed on his cock.

You say nothing. Smile. Hold your hands out for Jungkook to take, just so you can pull him back even quicker.

Lips pressing into yours as he closes the gap, Jungkook is all smiles. Rubs the head of his cock against your pussy, gathering up your arousal all over his tip. Lines himself up with your entrance. Waits for you to give him the go-ahead.

Hand on his ass, you pull him closer. Edge the crown of his cock into you. Whimper. Beg. "Please."

Sinking into you with a laboured grunt, he's surprised with how much tighter you are around his cock than you were with his fingers. Wet and warm, there's an undeniable pleasure that sparks through his body as he gets familiar with the way you feel.

Slowly, his hips begin to pick up a pace. As his tongue strokes into your mouth, there's no dignity to the way he's taking you. The increased pace means heightened moans, and it's not just you—it's him, too.

"Shit, yeah," he grits. "So fuckin' tight, aren't you?"

Whining, you nod into his kisses. Are at his entire disposal as he grips your waist, proving exactly why Tokki is the perfect nickname for him.

As much as he likes the ears, he's a little worried that he might fuck you so hard they fall off. Doesn't wanna break them, and definitely doesn't wanna think about the story the boys would make up when they go live tomorrow to tease him—but also really wants to fuck you harder.

Which is funny, cause the way he tugs them off with such desperation and tosses them down, you'd be forgiven for thinking he couldn't care less about breaking them. Doesn't give you a chance to say anything, 'cause his big hands are cradling your face, bringing you in for desperate kisses once more.

There's a lewdness to the sounds you make together, but Jungkook knows that if he was an entirely different kind of streamer, you'd make bank together. Wonders about the way it would look on camera. Worries. Pauses.

"You good?" You check a little breathlessly as he reaches behind you, just to tug the wire to his webcam from the plus.

"Yeah," he nods, still fiddling around behind you. Smiles in the hedonistic haze as your lips find a new home on his neck. Strokes your hair gently, and presses a kiss to the side of your head. Quietly says, "Just making sure there's no way in hell I accidentally start streaming."

You hum, all purry and pliant. "People would pay good money to see it."

While he agrees, and has had the same thought process, he doesn't care. "You saying I should be charging you for this?"

"Oh, no," you say all very sweetly. "You should be paying me."

"I'll pay you with orgasms," he promises, knowing that it's a rare currency for one-night strands.

You smirk. Pat the top of his head. "Sure you will."

If there's one thing Jungkook loves, it's a challenge.

Pulling back, he turns you around. Gets you bent over his desk with zero opposition from you. Rubs himself against your soaked cunt, then asks, "Yeah?"

"Yeah," you smirk, and then settle into a sigh as he pushes into you. The feeling of fullness from Jungkook is one that's hard to compare. So thick, and fat, and heavy, his cock really is just as impressive as he is.

With one hand hooked at the crease of your thigh, the other holds the top of your shoulder. Gets you pushed down onto his cock as far as you possibly can be. There's a slight reflection in his streaming plaque beside the monitor, and you're pleased to see just how intensely focused he is on you, brows furrowed, pretty pink lips resting ajar. The silver of his lip rings and chain catch in the light, and you find you can't look at him for too long. He's too hot.

But then he's reaching down for your clit as he fucks into you. Has your legs shaking. The waves of a familiar sensation begin to lap against the shores of your pleasure.

"Fuck," you whine. "Feels good. Keep it like that."

Jungkook knows better than to ignore your requests. Does as he's told, the pressure of his fingers on your clit only deepening. Rubbing calculated circles against you, he knows just how to work you up. Gets you whining. Mewling. Moaning.

"Gonna cum, aren't you?" he smirks, as his own high builds.

"Fuck—"

"C'mon," he husks, feeling your walls tighten around him. He doesn't stop his relentless chase. Will win your orgasms fair and square. Continues pounding into you. Pace fast, strokes deep, he's everything you could ever want and more—and then he's slowing. Keeping you plugged, nice and deep, but focusing on the way he's toying with your clit. "You know you wanna cream for me. All over my cock, pretty Nabi. C'mon—"

"I'm close," you all but whimper. "So—fuck. So close."

"Yeah, you are," he tells you—and then your legs are shaking, pussy tightly clamping around his cock, one hand tense against his desk while the other grabs at his wrist. Uncontrollable, is the way you whine for him. It's so needy—so desperate and pathetic—that it's almost a sob. Jungkook doesn't ease up. In fact, his hips gain a little pace again as your orgasm shatters around you both. He's breathless, but manages to choke out, "Flithy fuckin' cunt. Feels so fuckin' good. Fuck."

The frail limpness of your body as the orgasm smokes away is cute. Jungkook loves it. You're so weak for him. He fucks into you still, chasing his own high, and your whines only get louder. It's overwhelming, but you never want to lose the feeling.

It doesn't take much. Just a minute or so of your tight cunt, and Jungkook is pulling out. Even though he doesn't ask you to, you get to your knees as he tears the condom off.

"In my mouth," you beg, and who is he to reject such an offer?

Jerking himself to completion, Jungkook is all pretty and pathetic when he cums, too. Looks at you with eyes so starry you'd been forgiven for thinking he was a descendant of the constellations.

He milks the final few spurts of himself onto your wet tongue, and curses when you press dainty kisses to his tip. Stroking your tongue against him, you don't want to waste a drop. Look up at him and find that his eyes are resting shut from the pleasure of it all.

Silence surrounds you both, just your beating hearts and laboured breaths filling to the room. He helps you up. Holds you tight. Hugs you for a little while, then presses a kiss to the side of your head. "Thanks."

"My pleasure," you giggle - and then he's smiling, too. Feels vindicated by his irrational thoughts about you over the last few days. He pays no mind to the fact you're still technically dressed, and he's basically naked.

As he sorts himself out, you perch back up on his desk and languidly swing your legs. Enjoy the thought of memories plaguing him whenever he tried to play his little games over the next few days.

"You wanna grab a shower?" he offers. "Food, too? Dunno about you, but I'm fuckin' starving."

"Same," you nod, biting down on your bottom lip. "I'll go wash up, you sort food? Are places still open for delivery?"

Checking his phone for the time, Jungkook is surprised that it's closer to midnight than it is to his morning alarm. Only a handful of places will offer delivery at this time, but that's enough.

"Works for me," he says with a yawn, then opens what you had assumed was the closet door. Reveals an en-suite and knocks his head to the side. "Get your shower. Gimmie a shout if you need anything."

Tiles large and grey, it's the perfect counterpart to his bedroom. A little dark, but it's only because Jungkook hates using the big light. Always flicks the small light switches instead. There's a window overlooking the city, and even though you're only seven floors up, the hills of Yongsan-gu mean that he's got a view you could only dream of.

You're about to start the shower up when he calls through. "Is pizza good?"

"Pizza's good," you call back with a smile. Look yourself in the mirror and wonder how the fuck you ended up in the bathroom of arguably the most famous person you've ever met. Decide it's better not to question it.

The shower begins to cascade down, even if your sins are washed way, you know you won't be able to forget the feeling of Jungkook so easily.

Truth be told, you won't even try.

YONSEI UNIVERSITY DORMS DAESIN-DONG, SEODAEMUN-GU SUNDAY 21:13

"L in the chat," booms the voice of Taehyung through your laptop speakers. His trademark grin rests on his face as he teases Jungkook.

You've only just opened the stream. Instantly, you focus on the prettily lopsided smirk of Jungkook's lips. You've learned it's an almost permanent fixture on his boyish face. Shaking his head, he's adjusting his headset. Making it a little looser so that it'll fit him properly.

No one is questioning it.

What they are questioning, is where the fuck that pretty purple bruise on his neck has come from.

"Cross-fit," Jungkook just shrugs, knowing that it's the colloquial term for suspicious bruises after some idol used the same excuse. Blatant horseshit. Jungkook doesn't care.

"I've never done cross-fit, but I know you're bullshitting," Taehyung snorts.

The chat seems to agree with him.

"Thought I was a virgin?" Jungkook states a little cheekily, making reference to Taehyung's usual banter. "How else would I get one?"

Taehyung knows better than the retort. Knows that Jungkook could very easily slip something about Rae into the conversation.

Virgin? You type through a message on a private discord chat with Jungkook. He'd set it up the day before. Has already sent you, like, a thousand messages. Is what can only be described as obsessed—but it's mutual. Could have fooled me.

As his eyes glance down to his laptop screen, he fails to hide his smile. Had opened your chat on there, cause he didn't wanna accidentally broadcast the messages onto his stream. Despite this, he doesn't care that there are nearly 10,000 people in his stream merely minutes into it. Is far more interested in his chat thread with you. Replies immediately.

Stop distracting meI'm working</3

Giggling as the message pings through to you, there's a giddy quality to the way Jungkook makes you feel.

He'd spent the day in bed with you after your night together. Had wanted you to stay when he started streaming that evening. Said he'd only be an hour or so, and was incredibly pouty when you did leave.

It had just been him on last night's stream—headset off 'cause he didn't wanna adjust it back yet, hoodie on to hide his neck. The other boys were nursing hangovers, so he could do what he liked.

What he did do had you incredibly curious. Was just chatting. Talking to the comment section. Sleepily reeling off facts he'd recently learned about butterflies. Debating over their lifespan.

You're not naive to the fact that Jungkook does this streaming stuff as a profession, and are aware that the more people talking about his stream on other platforms, the more viewers he'll get.

Made sense for him to add fuel to the butterfly-related fire by talking about them.

Had sent you a message earlier that evening to ask what kind of butterfly you had on your skin.

A Monarch, you'd told him.

"See, the thing is," Jungkook had rambled to his viewers a little later on. "Most butterflies have super short lifespans—Monarch's included."

Eyes all starry, lights in his bedroom purple as per usual, he'd looked cosy. You wished you'd have stayed.

"But there's a specific kind. Migrating Monarchs. They're the last of their generation—the final butterflies of the year," he marvelled at the magic of it all.

His facts were a little hazy, but he knew enough. Had been down a you-shaped rabbit hole all afternoon.

"And they migrate, right? Move away from home—somewhere warmer—and then it just extends their lifespan. 180 days. Not 30. That's six months. Six months. It's a long time. It's not fleeting. Not in the slightest."

It's also, curiously, exactly how long you're scheduled to stay in Korea for.

"I dunno," Jungkook had just sighed, a little forlorn, trying to make sense of his thoughts.

He bit down on his bottom lip, stroking his thumb against the hard plastic ears of his headset, then focused on the camera again. Wondered if you were watching. 

He simply shrugged. Said, "Counts for something, though, right?"

[adnrewminyard]

imagine being kevin day, son of exy, born and bred to be a cog in the well-oiled machine that is the edgar allan ravens. all you know being the routine of practice and practice and practice and performance and victory alongside those you call brothers.

-and then one day you wake up in your estranged father's apartment between a bottle of painkillers and a bottle of vodka and there is a knot of bandages where your future used to be. you don't wake up at 4am anymore. you sleep until noon and vomit the remainders of life as you knew it into unfamiliar toilets. you watch orange and white clash against each other from sidelines you haven't touched since you started growing facial hair.

your brother doesn't ask you to come home. you would come if he asked. the days are longer here and the food is too rich. the colors are too harsh, the language barrier is too much. you speak and no one understands.

they feel sorry for you, but not for what you have lost, instead for what you have suffered. you try to show them what belonging means, to sever parts of yourself to fit inside a uniform, but they don't understand the necessity of the blade the way your brothers did. they don't understand that suffering feels religious if you do it right.

the therapist tells you it's survivor's guilt but the only survivors you can see are on the court in black and red and they read your eulogy after the game at a press conference. you are not a survivor in any way that matters anymore. how treacherous your heart is for continuing to beat when you can't even hold your lifeline in your hand without dropping it.

you want to go home but your key doesn't open the same door anymore. you want to sit beside your brother but there is no space on his side of the table. you want to be a raven but you are a fox.

you grieve for connection until there is a knife where your neck guard used to sit. you grieve for your life until a boy offers to show you how it feels to survive. you offer to show him how it feels to live. he tells you he won't sever parts of himself to fit the uniform, but there are telltale bloodstains in the fabric from long before you asked.

you wake up at 4am again. you take turns vomiting in the toilet, you when the alcohol level dips too low and him when his smile runs out. he doesn't speak your language but he understands it. he keeps the car running when you visit the therapist. he keeps an eye on your back to watch the 02 on your jersey turn orange. the colors don't seem as harsh anymore.

he offers you safety. he offers you belonging. he offers you the only thing he knows how to give, the only thing you know how to take.

he offers you a lifeline. you pick it up with your right hand.

[skzdarlings]

02. sharing a bed series ; skz ; lee know

masterlist.

sharing a bed series part 2/8. because it’s the cheesiest most classic trope and it’s FUN.

-

pairing: lee know/reader content info: sexual content. friends2lovers, sharing a bed trope. reader&minho had an argument. reader gets pussy eaten. minho likes to tease.

inspired by the cinematic masterpiece known to the world as lee know log 9, aka that vlog where minho went camping and i never recovered.

-

There is a perpetual hum around the campsite, heaters and lamps and cookers buzzing through the night, plus the rain has started coming down harder.  Its restless patter over the tarp of the luxury tent is more a nuisance than relaxing. 

The noise is not why you are still awake.   Your insomnia is the cause of good old-fashioned guilt. 

You and Minho lost your reservation thanks to some traffic delays and the campsite only had single-bed tents available by the time you arrived.  You have been sharing a bed all weekend, but right now you are alone.  Minho stormed out an hour ago, claiming he needed a walk to clear his head after your argument.

The argument you started. 

All weekend, you’ve been testing Minho’s seemingly infallible patience.  Minho might joke around sharply, but he’s a secret softy and it’s hard to get him genuinely angry.  You could feel yourself being a ridiculous ass but, like everything else of late, it felt out of control.  You were like a third party watching your own stupid argument, unable to stop yourself and unable to help him.  He was the mature one, leaving to find some space.

Even if it was after calling you ridiculous and uptight.      

You didn’t cry.  You didn’t let yourself cry.  Maybe you can’t control anything else, but you can control that. 

Now, you just lay in bed and listen to the rain.  You can’t sleep anyway, so you leave the lights on for Minho.   The rain is coming down pretty hard.  You hope he gets back soon.   Much as you don’t want to face him, you are worried about him. 

As if summoned by your thoughts, the tent opens and Minho stomps inside.  He is wearing a backwards hat and a hoodie, neither of which did much to protect him from the downpour.  You look over your shoulder at him, watching him shake himself out.   The wet hat comes off and hits the ground with a slap, the hoodie following.  It leaves him shivering in a t-shirt and shorts, his jaw clenched. 

He turns abruptly, looking right at you.  There is so much intensity in his gaze as he stares at you, slicking his wet hair back.   An unbidden spark of heat bursts inside you.   I want him to look at me like that when he fucks me, you think.  The thought makes you whip away to stare at the white tent wall.  Your heart pounds.   That pounding intensifies when Minho struts up to bed, crossing the space in a few quick strides.  You don’t dare turn around, clutching the blankets and staring at the wall.

He turns off the lights.  Then you hear him leave, disappearing into the small bathroom joined to your tent. 

You exhale.  It takes a while to come down from the burst of adrenaline, but it has mostly dwindled by the time Minho returns.  You hear him moving about in the dark.  You lay straight as a board, your back to him. 

You stare through the dark at nothing.  You know you should apologize for earlier but you can’t bring yourself to speak.   You just breathe. 

Minho climbs into the bed.  It dips under his weight and you feel a flood of warmth from his company.  He has toweled himself dry and changed into sweatpants and a dry t-shirt.  He smells fresh and clean, and just a little woodsy. The bed is not very big so he bumps you as he lays down.  It makes your heart race again, which just makes you cringe. 

The rain has slowed.  It still patters against the roof of the tent, but gently.  

The quiet makes the silence between you even more tense.  It feels heavier than the blankets, dense and suffocating.   You swallow. 

The argument was your fault.  Everything that went wrong this weekend was your fault.  You’ve been on edge and quick to overreaction, uncharacteristic to your usual composure.  You could tell it was worrying Minho but he has never been the type to pry.  No, he waits until he is asked, which would be great if you knew how to ask.  Hug me, hold me, help me.   You don’t know how to ask for the things you want.   So you just continued to spiral, taking it out on him.  

It should be you turning around, you facing him, you apologizing, but it’s Minho who rolls over.  You freeze when he wraps his arms around you and hugs you tight from behind.   He doesn’t quite kiss your shoulder, but he presses his face there for a second.  Wisps of his dyed blonde hair tickle your face.  You can imagine his eyes closing when he sighs. 

“I’m sorry,” he says.  “I shouldn’t have said that shit.  I don’t even know why we were fighting.  Just call it my fault, okay?  I shouldn’t have taken a city girl camping.”   

He is trying to joke with you.  His friendliness is what gets you.  Even after everything, he is still so good to you.   

You put a hand over your mouth, trying to stifle the sound when you start crying.  It’s a useless effort because your shoulders shake and Minho can feel it.  Resigned to your pitiful state, you let your gasps shudder out of you. 

“Hey, hey,” he says, rolling you onto your back.  He wipes his thumbs over your wet cheeks, staring down at you with his brow furrowed in confusion.  “I was just kidding.  I’m sorry.  Take a free slap.”  He grabs your hand and lightly taps his own cheek with it. 

It does make you laugh, but it’s a watery sound, rippling through your tears. 

“Minho,” you say miserably, “I lost my job.” 

Understanding fills his expression.  You can’t bear to look at him, so you roll towards him to hide your face in his chest.   He lets you, wrapping an arm around you and rubbing your back as you make a blubbery mess on his shirt.   You tell him the whole story, about the promotion you lost to someone else, about the sudden downsizing and subsequent firing.   You are someone who functions with meticulous planning so your life being upended sent you hurtling into an unfamiliar state of panic.  

“That’s why I went out alone the other night,” you say.  Your tears have slowed to hiccups by now.  “I know it was stupid and it made you mad.  I just felt like I was gonna explode.” 

Hopping bars and picking up random men is very out of wont for you.   That’s why you did it.  Minho was less than pleased when he found out you went wandering around downtown at night, inebriated and alone.   His scolding was reasonable but you were beyond reason.

He goes stiff when you mention it now, though he doesn’t stop rubbing your back. 

“I wasn’t mad,” he says after a minute.  “I was just worried.  And…”

You peek up at him.  He sighs and groans and yells all at once, an amazing feat of sound, throwing his head back so it thumps hard against the headboard. 

“I was jealous,” he says bitterly. 

“Jealous,” you say.  “Of me?”  

“Yes.”  He gives you a very sarcastic look.   “I wished it was me in that little black dress going out and—no.  Obviously not of you.  Why do you always torture me like this?   Go cry on the floor.”  He jostles you but jokingly, still holding you against him. 

You laugh a little, resting your head on his shoulder.  Your head feels fuzzy and you don’t think it’s from crying.  Minho just admitted he was jealous of you going out with some other guy.   It feels like your heart is doing circus tricks. 

“There was nothing to be jealous of anyway,” you say softly.  “We didn’t do anything.  He insisted he was, um, really good with, uh, his mouth, you know, but then, like, the more he insisted, um, you know me, I started thinking too hard and, um, he couldn’t make me, well…”

“Keep stammering.  It makes me feel less embarrassed about myself.”   

“Minho.”  You slap his chest.  His laugh is more of a maniacal cackle, his demeanour having shifted back to glee at your admission.   You lift your head to look at him, biting your lip, noticing how his eyes go to your mouth.  “He wound up leaving before it could go farther,” you say, your words startling him into meeting your gaze.  You know it’s a petty blow, but you can’t help but admit, “He said I was too uptight and left.”

Minho’s whole face scrunches up like he just got punched in the gut.   

“No,” he says.  “No.   You’re just saying that to bully me.  I didn’t call you the same thing as that idiot.”   

“It’s okay,” you say. 

“No.” He groans again, closing his eyes and kicking his feet.  “Ahhhhhhh.  I should be shot!”  

You are laughing properly now, clinging to him as he squirms in horror.          

“I’m sorry,” you say.  “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

“Oh really?”  He cocks an eyebrow at you, his mouth a grim line. 

“Well.”  You burst into laughter all over again.  “Maybe just a little!” 

He laughs hard at that, shaking his head, but still retaliates by tickling you.  Your laughter turns hysterical, peels of giggles as he pokes every ticklish inch of skin. 

“Minhoooo,” you whine to no avail.  He just grins and continues his attack. 

Your wriggling pushes the blankets off the bed.  You try and whack him with a pillow so that hits the floor too.  Soon it is just you and Minho and some dishevelled bedsheets, you on your back with him leaning over you.   You are both out of breath, both smiling.  His hands are by your head, cradling you under him, while yours are on his chest as if preparing to push. 

The room feels quiet, the silence again tense.  But this tension is not rife with the same uncertainty as before.   It is not guilt or shame, but a longing that comes from the whispered confession that he was jealous of the last man in your bed, the simple reality that he is sharing your bed right now.     

You do not push him away.  You hook your fingers in the collar of his shirt and pull.  His elbows bend as he swoops down, meeting your raised head.  He kisses you, deep and hot and slow, gently pressing your head back into the plush bed.  Your squirming is very different now, legs opening to make room for him to settle between them.  He feels so good on top of you, the feeling of his strong thighs between your legs, of his chest under your hands, wisps of hair brushing your face as he kisses and kisses and kisses you. 

The kiss ends when you are simply too breathless to continue.  He rests his forehead against yours, breathing hard. 

“Wow,” you say softly.  You look at him.  His dark eyes are often severe in a playful way and right now they are intense, seductive, and it isn’t a joke.   You touch his bottom lip, holding his gaze while he kisses the tips of your fingers.   “Just so you know, that kiss was way better than everything that happened the other night.”

He grins at that. 

“Oh,” he says.  “Really?” 

“Yeah.”  You watch him kiss your fingers again, then your palm.  He looks at you as he dips a little lower, kissing the inside of your wrist.  You are hypnotized by the heat of his dark stare, so you speak without thinking much.  “Everything you do turns me on, though,” you say.  “Even earlier, when you were crushing that garlic with the knife—”

His seduction breaks with a little laugh and he raises both eyebrows. 

“Garlic?” he asks.  “The garlic got you hot?”

“Don’t make fun of me,” you say, pouting.  “You already made me cry once tonight…”

“Oh, is that what happened?” he says.  “Sure, okay, let’s play.  I made you cry.   I should make it up to you?”

“Mhm…”

“Well then.”  He leans in close to kiss you but he lingers for a torturously long time, just hovering above your lips.   Then he abruptly pulls away.  He kneels upright and sits back on his heels.   

Confused, you push yourself up on your elbows.   He is looking around the room and tapping his chin thoughtfully.

“What is it?” you ask.   

“Hmm?”  He looks at you, tilting his head as if you are the confusing one.  “What?  I’m just looking for some garlic, since you’re into that for some reason.  Give me a minute to remember where I put it.”  

“Ahhh, I hate you!”  You flop back down, covering your face with your hands. 

Minho, diabolical creature that he is, throws back his head and laughs.  He tries to pry your hands off your face but you stubbornly hold on.  He sighs with theatrical exasperation and gives up.  

You hear the rustle of fabric.  Curious, you peek between your fingers.  Minho is staring down at you with a single eyebrow cocked, a smug little smirk tugging at his lips.  That smirk grows as he reaches back, flexing his arms before grabbing the back of his t-shirt and pulling.  Your hands fall away from your face completely, your eyes drinking in the gradual reveal of skin as he pulls his shirt off.   It lands somewhere on the floor, forgotten. 

“Okay,” he says, nodding curtly.  “Your turn.”  He makes a come-hither motion with two fingers.  “Come on.  Hurry up.” 

Your brain has short-circuited.  It takes a second to make sense of his request and another minute to actually do it.  You sit up long enough to peel your shirt off, then flop back down where you continue to stare at him.   You are checking each other out, looking up and down.   Your eyes goes over his bare chest and down, your mouth falling open. 

You breath catches when he cups his hardening dick through his sweatpants, rubbing the heel of his hand there. 

You meet his gaze, already breathing harder.

“What else then?” he says, still stroking himself through his clothes as he looks at you. 

“Uh, ah, erm, hm—”

“You said everything I do turns you on.”  He falls forward and catches himself on both hands, so suddenly you gasp.   Once again his arms cage you in, his face close to yours.  His hips come down heavy between your legs, his dick hard where it presses intimately against you.  “So,” he says.  “What else then?” 

“Oh.”  You are staring at his mouth, gaze heavy-lidded when he rocks against you.  “Um.  Well.  Sometimes when you’re driving in reverse and you put your hand on my headrest, it kinda—” 

Once again, his seduction attempt is thwarted when he can’t help but laugh.  He drops his head, laughing harder when you lightly smack him.    

“Stop asking if you’re just gonna laugh!” you say, even while laughing too. 

“Okay,” he says.  “Garlic and driving in reverse.  I’m learning so much.” 

“I’m gonna kill you.” 

“That would be very rude,” he says.  “Especially since I’m about to go down on you.” 

“You—wha—ohhh—”

You grab his head instinctively, fingers sinking into the natural dark roots of his dyed hair, just as he dips down to press kisses on your chest.  You arch under him as his mouth finds every sensitive spot, licking sweetly and biting meanly, as to be expected from Minho.  By the time he reaches the waistband of your shorts, you are panting and wriggling and clawing at him desperately.   

You don’t even have time to overthink.  The world and all its troubles fall away for the time being.  

You will figure things out.  You always do.  Right now, you let yourself lose control.   You usually hate the feeling, but in this moment you don’t mind at all, because Minho has you.   You trust him completely.  Surrender is easy.   

The rest of your clothes join the messy heap on the floor.  He runs his hand smoothly along the inside of your thigh before guiding it over his shoulder.   He kisses there, then kisses you excruciatingly chastely between your legs.  When you try and move, he keeps you steady, the sturdy hands that captivated you now holding you firmly in place. 

When he finally stops torturing you, he gives you everything at once: a long, hot lick right up your centre.  Again, your fingers find his hair.  He doesn’t complain or lose focus even though you are scratching at him a bit ferociously.  Ever a skilled worker, he stays on task.  It is so deft and swift and thorough; you get so wet and slippery that you can feel it running it down your skin.  

When you get close, your hips lift but he brings you back.  He looks up between your thighs as he brings you over the edge.  Your legs shake and your eyes close and you bite your hand just a little, trying not to be too noisy in the middle of the night at a campsite. 

He climbs back up when finished, looking like a very smug feline as he wipes his face on the back of his hand.   

“On a scale of garlic to driving in reverse—” he starts. 

You playfully cuff the side of his head. 

“That good?” he continues to tease. 

You roll your eyes but smile.   You think it is a seductive smile, but you do feel a little wrecked.   Still, you stay on task too, sliding your hand down his chest, down, down, down and—

“Oh,” you say.  You look down at the same time as him.  A noticeable wet stain is on the front of his sweatpants.  “You already—”

He flops down beside you and sighs.

“Sorry,” he says.  “You weren’t the only one amazed with my sexy performance.” 

“That’s okay,” you say with a laugh.  You roll over to rest your head on his chest.  His arm comes down around you, hand running down your naked back.  You giggle when he cups and squeezes your ass.  You dance your fingers down his pants to the wet spot where he came.  “I think it’s kinda hot, actually.” 

Minho came from eating you out.  Of course you think it’s hot. 

And of course he has to be Minho about it. 

“Okay,” he says.  “Garlic. Driving in reverse.  Premature ejaculation.  Uptight was definitely the wrong word.  I honestly don’t know if I can keep up with a freak like you—”

“Ugh!”  You roll away and turn your back to him, mostly to hide the fact you are laughing at his stupid joke. 

He follows you, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you from behind.  This time he kisses your shoulder properly, once, twice, three times.  All the way up your neck to your ear and just behind it. 

“You’re lucky I like you so much,” you whisper. 

“I like you too,” he whispers back, kissing your shoulder again. 

You smile and close your eyes, listening to the rain and letting yourself snuggle safely in his arms. 

[saturnitiez]

Will You Remember?

inspired by the song: Will You Remember? by The Cranberries

Childhood memories, mentions of reader being female and in a dress, childhood crushes but they’re stupidly oblivious.

TW: MENTIONS OF KINICH’S CHILDHOOD (i.e. alcohol abuse, child abuse, child abandonment & death)

Im writing this at like 02:00 so please spare me ☹️ I also don’t know where the hell this even goes i was kinda just writing to write so uhm..!

<3 Seeing you, again. For the first time in what he can only assume must have been years. Of course he still remembers you. But why..?

First Meeting

The two of you had first met as children. Kinich had a regrettably bad childhood.

The constant beatings, berating, arguing, was something he had grown all too accustomed to.

Still, he was only human. A child at that. There were times where after his mother had left, and his father was gone, that he’d go out into the forest to gain a sense of self.

The forest acting as a fortress for him, solitude from the outside world.

When he saw the glimpse of someone in his fortress, he was immediately on the ready, hyper aware.

Hiding and peeking around trees, only to see a sniffling girl adorned in a dress. Her hair had looked rather messy, and there were small scrapes littered around her knees and elbows.

She had obviously looked as if she had fell, probably got lost too.

After finding that the person who had invaded his space was indeed no threat, he approached her. Although, not having much ‘people skills,’ he came off rather harsh.

“Who are you.”

This only made the young girl distress even farther, a sigh escaping him.

How was he supposed to even approach this?? Was everyone this much of a crybaby?

Young Kinich, trying his hardest to soften the tone of his voice and seem more approachable, copying the demeanor of his mother whenever she used care for him.

“..Are you okay..??”

That definitely seemed to go better, in his opinion, as the girl didn’t immediately start sobbing more, but rather managed to choke out the words..

“I want to go home.”

..Great. That gave him so much information.

He, and all his little child wisdom, replied:

“Oh. Where?”

Kinich had just asked a simple question, but to you, it was so complicated.

You didn’t know where you were, who this strange boy was?

All you knew was that: you were hurting, you wanted to go home because you missed your parents.

Seeing that his question didn’t get him very far, he wordlessly left to go back to his house, planning on grabbing bandaids for you.

He came back, half surprised to see you in the same spot you were; not even moved an inch. This time however, you weren’t crying as much, all that were heard were now small sniffles as you rubbed your eyes.

He wrapped his hand over yours and drags you over to a tree nearby that you could sit under.

Once he has you sat down he pulls out the small bandaids from his pocket and fumbles to open them, putting them on the small cuts you had.

Little you had no idea what to think. First this boy seemed harsh, or rather intimidating? but now here he was knelt on the ground next to you patching you up.

As he did so, all you could do was look at him.

“Will you remember me?” You asked rather abruptly.

It caught him very off guard, it was a rather random question. He gave no reply.

Once he had finished he once again, wordlessly walked away, but this time farther into the forest. He stopped at a couple steps before looking back at you.

You perked up at the fact that he stopped this time. Taking advantage of the boy who provided help was still within eye shot, you chased after him.

He’d continue to walk, but whenever you’d fall a little too far behind, he’d stop, and wait. Then he’d continue on again.

Eventually this had led you back to the entrance of the village you lived in. You started to sprint towards it, thinking that you had made it back by pure luck.

Second Meeting

The second time you had met as kids, was when Kinich had to go to the market. His father was now dead, and he now had to find his way around life, as if he wasn’t beforehand.

His father’s absence of gambling had definitely made it easier to manage mora.

But just because he now had mora, he was still bargaining ever stall he could.

“Now i’m sure that we could get a fair price on this..”

Kinich suggested to the stall owner, but just then out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a familiar figure..

He could t quite place from where though.. Her hair was the first thing he had noticed.

‘it’s styled nicely’ he thought.

As you turned and he was able to see your face, he then remembered where you had looked so familiar from.

You were that girl he had helped a couple years back… but why does he remember you so specifically.?

You held flowers in your hands that day, a bouquet of peonies.

You walked up to the stall he was at to briefly talk with the owner, who was more than glad to help you rather than Kinich.

He would often steal small glances in your way as you stood next to him reciting your order to the owner, who obliged.

As the owner grabbed the requested items you had caught one of his looks he thought was sly, and waved to him.

He managed a small wave back, but that was about it. He didn’t know how he was supposed to interact with you. It’s not like he knew you all well.

But something about your bright smile made his stomach feel weird. He wasn’t too sure what it was, but it was very unpleasant.

As you took your things from the owner and payed you spared him another wave.

“Goodbye.!”

From then on,

he would always see you around the area, whether you be completing commissions for the adventurers guild, grabbing supplies, or simply wandering around.

It seemed as if you were now everywhere.

Everywhere he’d look, you were there.

He tried not to dwell on it, but his eyes would always linger on you. He told himself it’s because he wanted to “keep the people safe.”

At some point he’d sub-consciously look for you, brushing it off once again as ‘keeping people safe.’ He was oblivious to the meaning of the feeling he’d get in his stomach anytime you’d smile or wave at him.

‘Is this what people meant by butterflies in your stomach?’ He pondered.

At one point or another, you both had run into one another while doing a commission.

He had been looking for a missing Saurian. Presumably the one you were currently knelt down by that was injured.

“Oh! Kinich! That’s your name.. right?” You asked nervously, you had heard of him from other villagers, it also helps that you’ve seen him around a lot.

“Yes. That’s me.” He replied with his usual monotone voice. It made it hard for you to get a read on what he wanted.

“Is there something that brings you over here..?” You questioned as you grab bandage wrap from your satchel.

You wanted to hurry and attend to the Saurian’s wounds before they got infected.

“I’m looking for a missing Saurian. I believe that is the one i’m looking for.” He nods his head at the Saurian you had currently been taking care of.

“Well, unless you’re looking for a Mrs. June’s missing Saurian, then you have the wrong one.”

“…that’s exactly who i’m looking for.”

There was a short moment of silence.

“…you’ve got to be joking.” You deadpanned.

Turns out the woman recruited more than one person for the commission..

You sigh as you pick the baby Saurian up, stand up and walk over to Kinich.

“Hold your arms out.”

He hesitates, before slowly holding his arms out.

As he does you hand him the baby Saurian.

“Get the poor thing back to Mrs. Jones, she’s probably worried sick.” You softly smiled at the baby.

“You should come with so you can collect part of the pay.” Kinich inquired, seeing as you had done part of the work, it was only fair you had also gained some reward for it.

You waved your hand as you walked opposite direction of the village.

“Take my part of the payment as an exchange for when you helped me back then, or something..”

Ah. You still do remember that. He wasn’t the only one. He remembers that event pretty well too.

You pause for a bit, not turning around to face him.

“..Do you remember that..?”

Of course he does.

He remembers your messed up hair.

He remembers your beautiful, but dirtied, and tattered dress.

He remembers how scared you looked.

“I do.”

Just as you.

You had remembered his beautiful eyes.

You had remembered his blunt, but comforting words.

You had remember how he had patched you up.

“I always remembered you.”

[mcflymemes]

VARIOUS SETTINGS / LOCATIONS PROMPTS *  location based prompts for starters, adjust as necessary

[ 01 ] a crowded masquerade party, on the dance floor

[ 02 ] the narrow space between two dusty bookshelves

[ 03 ] a shady spot in the sand under a boat dock

[ 04 ] the cereal aisle of a neighborhood cornerstore

[ 05 ] a one-stall, one-sink bathroom in a noisy bar

[ 06 ] standing next to the only car in an otherwise-empty parking lot

[ 07 ] a field of ready-to-pick corn, the stalks making it impossible to see the space around you

[ 08 ] the sun-dappled, grassy edge of a small lake

[ 09 ] intermission at a broadway show

[ 10 ] seated beside each other at a nail salon

[ 11 ] a desolate field in the middle of nowhere, just before a rainstorm

[ 12 ] a lonely bus stop at 2am

[ 13 ] the garden center of a home improvement store

[ 14 ] the only two people at a hotel bar on new year's

[ 15 ] on a bench beside a large fountain and its lit-up water display

[ 16 ] the messy chaos of an all-you-can-eat buffet

[ 17 ] a city rooftop with lightning in the distance

[ 18 ] a rusty fire escape

[ 19 ] inside an ice cream shop

[ 20 ] at the entrance of a lost temple in the middle of a thick jungle

[ 21 ] the waiting area of a busy doctor's office

[ 22 ] a city street teeming with news vehicles, camera crews, and reporters

[ 23 ] a hammock on the beach strung between two palm trees

[ 24 ] a locked door. the key is under the mat

[ 25 ] the large, ornate rotunda of an official building

[ 26 ] an empty, run-down subway car

[ 27 ] the only gas station for miles

[ 28 ] an airport café during the breakfast rush

[ 29 ] a wine tasting event for couples

[ 30 ] the cliffside overlooking a magnificent, roaring waterfall

[osmanthus-wine-addiction]

02 Jealousy

Zhongli x Reader / SFW but suggestive at the end / Mentions of Childe / Set at the beginning of the Liyue archon quest / Reader is unaware that Zhongli is the Geo Archon

"My dear, is something on your mind?"

Perceptive as he was, Zhongli couldn't figure out what it was that was upsetting you. That pout on your lips had been plastered there for a while now and as many times as he had questioned you if anything was bothering you, you simply brushed it off.

"I'm fine." You were, or so you thought you should be.

Zhongli was a bit of an attention magnet, which was not surprising with the meticulous way he dressed, his exceptional knowledge, and the way he carried himself. He delighted in it, smiling and going about his day as if he were simply soaking in sunlight. You often found the consultant lost in long-winded conversations with random people on the streets. While you found the person's advances a bit pushy, Zhongli didn't seem to think much of it.

Suspicions prickled underneath your skin when Zhongli mentioned that the individual had paid him yet another visit at the funeral parlor, this time insisting on taking him out to dinner. Zhongli was certainly not giving the eyesore any reason to stop encroaching by entertaining their whims. There was definitely something going on between them, outside of whatever business dealings the funeral parlor had with the Fatui. The more you thought about it, the surer you became.

Zhongli could tell something was amiss with you. Perhaps you were worried for him, maybe even a little bit possessive of him. It was a silly sentiment to have when he was so devoted to you.

"Darling, please tell me what is bothering you. It worries me that it may be my doing." He asks yet again one afternoon.

The way he tenderly gazes at you should assure you enough that there was no space in his heart for another person. Every time he calls you his dear, his sweetheart, or darling, you can hear the sincerity spilling over in his voice. It'd be cruel of you to keep him guessing, wouldn't it?

"You know that pair of chopsticks you got Childe when he arrived in Liyue? The dragon and phoenix one..." You brought up something that seemed irrelevant save for the person mentioned.

"Oh, yes. I remember them well. Their craftsmanship was quite exceptional." His eyes lit up the way they always did when he speaks about a particularly striking find he happens upon during his strolls through the city. "I gifted them to him as a gesture of welcome since he was learning to use them."

"I think he misunderstood your intentions."

Being the most learned person in Liyue regarding its traditions and customs, Zhongli didn't need to be reminded exactly what kind of intentions you were alluding to. The consultant's brows immediately furrowed in contemplation.

"While I do see how such a gift could be interpreted in other ways, I am certain that they don't apply to our particular circumstances."

"You gave him something that lovers give each other to pledge their love! Aren't you going to explain yourself?" You pouted, crossing your arms.

The consultant gave you an aggrieved yet amused look. "Traditionally, the dragon and phoenix symbolizes harmony and prosperity, something both Liyue and Snezhnaya hopes to achieve through steady trade. While it's most commonly given between couples, it may also be given to a friend or business partner to convey longevity."

Zhongli's reasoning was sound, however you refused to be convinced. You shook your head in frustration. "Don't you see? He's coming onto you too strongly for someone who just wants a diplomatic relationship!"

You couldn't just outright tell him to keep his distance from the Fatui harbinger since they were business acquaintances. Liyue harbor has its fair share of flirtatious people, the shopkeeper at Scent of Spring for one, but there was just something about the redhead in particular that unsettled you. The way Zhongli unabashedly spends his money also left much for you to think about. It wasn't all that different from the way Director Hu allowed him to leave tabs under the funeral parlor's name, but he wasn't as close to the Fatui harbinger as he was with Hutao. There was just something off about the dynamic between Childe and Zhongli. It didn't sit well with you at all.

"Either he has a thing for you or he's up to something. I'm sure of it."

The consultant stifled a chuckle. He was beginning to piece together the reason for your strange behavior lately. "Dear, I assure you that he is not interested in me in that way. Even if he were, I only have eyes for you."

"So you're just going to let him keep chasing you?" You frowned. "You know, I can spoil you too."

"Hm.... Where is this competitiveness of yours coming from?" Zhongli mused.

"Isn't that why you're giving him so much of your time? Because he's opening his wallet for you?" You pointed out. That redhead was hogging too much of your lover's time. You wanted it back.

"The Fatui have agreed to pay for Rex Lapis's Rite of Parting. I've been given a considerable sum to purchase all the necessities for the rites and to cover any expenses arising from the preparations, with the remaining funds to keep. So yes, if you must put it that way, he is indeed giving me his wallet to spend as I please."

"I might not be the Northland Bank, but I can buy you nice things too."

"I'm sure you can, my sweet." Zhongli stroked your cheek, distracting you momentarily. "I may only be a mere funeral consultant, but I too find it rewarding to spoil the one I treasure in pleasantries. If the Northland Bank wishes to further subsidize my spending, I shall not decline if it will allow me to do so."

"I don't know if I like the idea of my lover having a sugar daddy." You tried to keep a straight face as you said this.

"A sugar... daddy?" Zhongli's brow went up again. He understood the two words but put together, they obviously meant something he was not yet exposed to.

"A sponsor, but you have to entertain them romantically."

"I have no intentions of entertaining anyone but you in that sense." Zhongli chuckled as leaned in close, breath tickling your skin.

You begrudgingly accepted his kiss and his carefully placed touches.

"I want a pair too." You panted when his lips finally parted from yours.

"Very well. I will pay the shop a visit tomorrow morning to ensure a new pair of chopsticks will be made ready in time for your birthday. I will make a reservation at the Liuli Pavillion as well. If there is anything else I need to do to put your frustrations behind you, pray tell. I cannot stand that constant pout on your face." Zhongli grumbled, but it only made you giggle uncontrollably with the way he was nuzzling your neck while he spoke.

"Spoil me good tonight and maybe I'll consider letting you off the hook." You challenged.

"You test me."

Zhongli hummed in satisfaction, wasting no time in scooping you up in his arms and whisking you away to your bedroom amidst your feigned protests. If anything good came out of your pouting, it was his willingness to please. The consultant was on his knees, doing everything in his power to get back in your good graces.

[jeankluv]

But daddy I love him - Gojo Satoru [epilogue]

short series

summary: If there was a phrase that could describe you, it was; good girl. You had been a good girl all your life, following your father's orders and being as modest as possible. You had focused your entire life on being a perfect lady, one who could be a good wife in the future. This is how you had been raised and how you had been instructed. But your whole world was shaken when one warm summer morning, your eyes met the bold, defiant and sharp gaze of a young man with white hair.

tags: +18, female!reader, set in 1700s-1800s, loss of virginity, misogyny language and thinking, oral sex, fingering, innocent oc, unsafe sex, vaginal sex, manipulative, eating disorders, abusive parents, no use of y/n, pregnancy talks

words: 3,6k

notes: so here is the epilogue of this short series that was a gif to everyone that started supporting my works on this app. Finally we close the story of Duke Gojo and angel. I hope everyone enjoys it 💋

ch.01 | ch.02 | ch.03 | ch.04 | ch.05 | epilogue

Jujutsu Kaisen materialist

It had been 8 months since you and Satoru met again. And as soon as Satoru could walk again you got married, it had been a bigger wedding than you had ever imagined, after all Satoru was a duke and a close friend of the prince so it had been something normal. Thanks to the wedding you also learned that Satoru was not as hated as your parents had made you believe, in fact Satoru was extremely loved by everyone.

Regarding your parents, you know that they were stripped of their titles and all their property and sent, along with others, to a prison near the border. Satoru didn't want you to see them, apparently they had completely lost their minds and he didn't consider it safe for you.

Satoru asked you if you wanted to stay with your parents' house, and go there during the summers. But although you will love that landscape and the smell of that place, the memories of those walls were mostly painful.

But those memories had been locked in a box and kept far away. Now you were creating new memories in that place you called home. You had arrived at the Gojo residence in winter and for the first time you had admired the snow. And you also met Megumi, Satoru’s nephew. Although the relationship they both had was more of a father-son relationship, after all Satoru had adopted him and taken care of him since he was 4 years old.

In those 8 months you had managed to feel at home and feel that you belonged to the family. Rose kept telling you how happy you looked, how bright you were again. And you also felt it like that.

Satoru had kept all his promises, from a library that you could never imagine to a summer house where you could enjoy the sea breeze again.

Now summer was starting again and that only brought back memories of how last year you were on the beach reading and a boy with a mysterious smile and sharp gaze approached you. Without knowing very well that that meeting would change everything about you.

“What’s my beautiful wife doing?” You felt how Satoru left wet kisses on your shoulder.

“I was just admiring the view and thinking.” You looked at him with a shiny smile.

“Thinking about what, my love?” He looked at you with the most loving expression.

“About us, about everything that has happened in the last year and how lucky I am.” You kissed him.

“I think I’m the one who is lucky.” He said.

Satoru began to kiss your neck, closing your eyes and pushed your neck back, giving him more space so he could devour you. You could spend years, but you would still be addicted to his kisses and his caresses.

“You know this white dress you are wearing today is driving me crazy.” He said, biting your ear.

“I thought it was cute for our getaway today.” You purred with a smile on your lips.

“Oh definitely it’s cute.” He smiled. “But I bet you look cuter without it.”

You could listen to Satoru say provocative things a thousand and one times and never get used to it. Despite the time, you continued getting nervous and blushing like the first time.

“Satoru…” You put your hand on his chest, feeling his buildup muscles under your hand. “We are on the beach.”

“That makes it even more exciting.” He smirked. “But no one will come, you know that.”

“You can't be satisfied, can you?”

“I will never get enough of you, my angel.” He says, before devouring your mouth again.

Satoru laid you down on the cloth that you had brought to sit on the sand and left a trail of kisses until he reached the cloth that separates your breasts from his lips. With a wicked smile on Satoru's face, he grabbed the hem of your dress and pulled it down, exposing your breasts to his blue eyes.

“So beautiful.” He whispered before introducing your nipple into his mouth and beginning to devour it only as he knew how.

Your back arched and your hands went straight to his hair, where they became tangled in the white hair. With each suck you felt your pussy getting wetter and wetter. You desperately needed Satoru inside of you.

“Satoru…” You moaned. “I need you.”

Satoru separated from you and smiled when he saw your state, disheveled, swollen lips, your nipples completely red and with your legs open, inviting him to enter. Taking off his belt and pulling down his pants, you felt your body react as his cock emerged from his underwear. It was hard, you could see it, very hard.

Satoru lifted your dress and yanked your underwear off, leaving you completely exposed to him. With his hand on his cock, he placed it at your entrance and with a grunt he entered you.

You purred as you felt Satoru fill you and begin to thrust into you. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you reached out, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, needing to feel the warmth of his skin and becoming one with each other.

His warm touch made you melt under his touch. Not only that, you become more desperate for more, wanting all of him to fill you, to kiss you, to adore you with passion. And you could see his hungry eyes, his frenetic pulse and desperate touch. He wanted you as much as you wanted him.

The shockwaves that ran through your body, made tears of pleasure run down your cheeks and inevitably made moans escape from your throat. Which luckily for you were silenced by the noise of the waves crashing against the coast.

Satoru growled your name with each thrust, his voice rough and full of intensity. The sound sent shivers down your spine, a mix of pleasure and anticipation washing over you. His hands, large and possessive, dug into the flesh of your thighs, leaving marks you would probably see the next day.

Every movement was deliberate and powerful, the rhythm relentless and intoxicating. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the tension in his muscles as he held you, his almost desperate grip on you.

Your mind struggled to keep up with the overwhelming sensations, each one more intense than the last.

Satoru's eyes met yours, his gaze was filled with hunger and that turned you on even more. His breathing became labored, you knew you were both close, you could feel it by the way he was throbbing inside you and the way your body was reacting.

Satoru spoke your name desperately with each of his thrusts, the way he said your name made your heart race even faster, and your breathing quickened with every movement.

His hands grabbed your hips with a possessive intensity, anchoring you against the sand that was under that fabric.

“Satoru.” You breathed, your voice shaking with the overwhelming sensation coursing through your body. His lips found yours again, swallowing your cries with a searing kiss that left you both breathless.

The desperation in his thrusts grew, each one more urgent and insistent than the last. Your nails dug into his skin, leaving marks.

You could feel the spiral of pleasure tightening inside you, his every movement pushing you closer to the edge. His name was a song on your lips, a plea and a prayer.

When your climax finally hit you, it was like a wave crashing over you, sweeping you away in a torrent of bliss. Your cries of ecstasy mixed with Satoru's guttural moans as he followed you to the edge, his release a powerful, consuming force.

Panting and trembling, they held each other, the aftershocks of their passion still coursing through their bodies.

Your chest rose and fell as you felt Satoru fill you. After a few seconds, Satoru pulled out of you and lay down next to you.

“Stop taking that medicine.” You said, still feeling your voice shaky and your body trembling.

Satoru turned to look at you confused. “What?”

You sighed and adjusted your dress back to how it was. “I heard you, with the doctor.” Satoru sat down. “I know you have been taking that medicine to prevent me from getting pregnant. And I know you did it because I was weak when we got married.” You said. “But ever since coming here, I gained weight and got healthier. Satoru, I want us to have a bigger family.”

“Angel…” He held your hand.

“Megumi has been asking me for a sibling you know?” You smiled. “And I really want it.”

“Megumi has said that?”

You nodded happily. “I want Megumi to have a little brother or sister. Don’t you?”

“I…” Satoru sighed and then looked back at you. “Yeah of course I would love that, but… you know how risky pregnancies can be.” Satoru’s eyes reflected concern, agony and fear. “What if…”

“Satoru.” You tried to calm him down. “I know the risks and I know what could happen but I think I’m ready.” You smiled.

Satoru sighed. “We will talk with the doctor and we will see, alright?”

You nodded and hugged him. “I love you.”

He chuckled and smiled back. “I love you too.”

You both hugged each other until the sun started to set down and the temperature of the day started to go down. Satoru picked you up bridal style and between laughter and soft kisses he carried you to the horse to return home. It sounded good, home.

It filled your heart with a warmth that you didn't know you could feel and a longing to return that you had never experienced. Normally you would extend your readings on the beach until the last ray of sunlight disappeared and the stars began to shine.

But at the Gojo residence, when you had to go out to attend to matters like the Duchess you were, you returned home with Satoru, with Megumi, who you could say had become almost like your own son, with Rose, Nanami and the household employees, who had given you affection and love from the first moment.

Entering the large hall you were greeted by several of the employees, including Rose, who had had a special glow for some time and you both knew what it meant.

“Ask the doctor to come tomorrow.” You heard Satoru speak.

“Duchess.” Rose bowed, you were still not used to that title and it still felt weird.

“Rose.” You smiled. “Did Megumi have his dinner?”

She shook her head. “He is waiting for both of you to have dinner together.”

You looked over to Satoru and this one smiled at you. “Let’s have dinner.” He held your hand.

You both walked to the dining room where you found Megumi concentrating on reading a book. Satoru looked at you and you gave him a warm smile.

“Gumi.” You called out to him and he quickly looked up from him to look at you both.

“Mom.” He put the book aside and ran over to you to hug your legs.

You still weren't used to Megumi calling you mom, the first time she said it you were completely paralyzed, not knowing how to respond or act, Megumi noticed that and regretted it but you told him that he did want to call you mom and then you would be very happy. And since then he had called you mom. On the other hand, Satoru was offended, since for years he had been trying to get Megumi to stop calling him simply Gojo, but the little boy didn't want to.

“I’m still offended that you don’t even call me uncle.” Satoru murmured.

You chuckled looking at Megumi. “Just give him time, right Gumi?” Megumi simply hide his face on your dress.

“A little bird told me that you want a brother or sister. But that won’t happen until you call me uncle.” Satoru challenged him and Megumi turned his face away from your dress and looked at him offended.

“Not fair.” He said.

“It is not.” Satoru smirked. “You just have to call me from now on uncle and you might have a sibling.”

“Satoru… you can not do that.” You said to him.

“Why not?” He looked at you with puppy eyes.

“He is a kid, give him time.” You said.

“Dad…”

“Yeah but why call me Gojo when…” Satoru paused and looked at Megumi. “What?”

“I’m not repeating myself.” Megumi walked away.

“Angel, did he just?”

“Yeah.” You smiled at him and noticed how Satoru was getting emotional. “Satoru…”

“Sorry, I just.” He shook his head. “I love you Gumi.” He shouted.

Megumi didn’t turn to look at him or say anything, but you knew that he was just embarrassed. Megumi opened out at you a few days after calling you mom from the first time about how he wanted to call Satoru dad but he was beyond embarrassed to do it. You found that heartwarming and adorable and seeing how they both reacted filled your heart with happiness and love.

The evening passed quickly between laughter, light conversations and Satoru's jokes and Megumi's protests for Satoru to leave him alone. You knew Satoru wasn't going to let go of the fact that Megumi called him dad and you felt a little sorry for him but it was fun to see his pout. Those new memories that you were creating with those new people that you didn't know a year ago filled your entire heart.

The next day the light passed through the curtains of your room, making you open your eyes to find the bed empty and the sheets cold, indicating that Satoru had woken up long before you. With your hips a little sore after your sex session last night, you got up to get ready to meet the doctor on that sunny morning with clear skies. Rose, like every morning I come into your room and help you.

Once ready, you left your bedroom and began to walk through the Gojo family's large house, still not getting used to all the wealth that you saw when you walked through the wide hallways, with their high ceilings and walls covered in ancestral portraits. .

Approaching the entrance you watched as Satoru walked near the large windows, his expression was a mix of concern and determination. Approaching him, you held his hand and gave him a comforting look, seeking for his agitated soul to relax under your touch.

The heavy entrance doors creaked open and the family doctor entered, whose presence attracted attention. Dr. Stone was a middle-aged man, with a kind but serious demeanor.

“Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Gojo.” Dr. Stone greeted with a respectful nod. His voice was calm and reassuring, a stark contrast to the turmoil you felt inside. “I trust you're both okay.”

“Good morning, Dr. Stone.” Satoru responded, his voice was firm despite the tension. “Thanks for coming.”

Walking down a hallway, the three of you entered an office where you could have a more private conversation. The doctor sat across from you, opened his case, and arranged his instruments with practiced precision. “So what was it that you wanted to talk about?”

You both looked at each other and Satoru took a breath. “We want to try to have a child.” You squeezed his hand. “And we wanted to know if my wife, well, if she doesn't run any significant risk by getting pregnant.”

Dr. Stone nodded and began his examination with a gentle, professional touch. After a few minutes he looked at you both and smiled. “There are certain risks, though.” He said he. “With careful monitoring and appropriate measures, I believe a successful pregnancy is within reach. It will require diligence and caution, but I am confident we can manage any complications that may arise.”

Satoru, who had been watching intently, let out a breath that he didn't realize he was holding. “Thank you, Dr. Stone.” He said with relief. “We appreciate his guidance and support.”

The doctor agreed, with an expression of understanding and empathy. “It is my duty and honor to serve this family. We will proceed with care.”

With a final bow, the doctor departs, leaving you and Satoru to digest the information. The room seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief, the tension dissipating like morning mist under the heat of the sun.

“Satoru...” You whispered looking at his expression.

But all the doubts you might have dissipated when you saw how Satoru smiled widely at you. "We could start now, don't you think?"

You rolled your eyes. “Always so needy”

Satoru's eyes, electric and searing, met yours with an intensity that made your heart race. He closed the distance between you in the blink of an eye, and taking hold of your face, he pulled you into a passionate kiss. His lips were insistent, full of desire and passion, wanting to claim your lips as his alone.

The kiss deepened, your tongues tangled in a heated dance, each moment fanning the flames of desire and igniting something fervent inside you. His hands slid from your face to your waist, pulling you closer to him, the heat of his body seeping through the layers of your spring dress. You could feel the hard lines of his muscles, his need for you as palpable as yours.

Without breaking the kiss, Satoru's hands began to work on the zippers of your dress. The fabric gave way under his skillful fingers, sliding down your shoulders until it reached your waist. The cool air of the room sent a shiver down your spine as he collided with your bare skin, but it was quickly replaced by the warmth of his touch as he explored your skin.

With a grunt, Satoru pushed aside the objects cluttering the desk. His strength and urgency left you breathless, your pulse pounding in your ears as he lifted you off the desk.

You moaned softly as his lips moved to your neck, sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin. His hands roamed your body, hiking up your dress until he bunched around your waist, exposing your legs. Each touch sent shivers of pleasure through you, your body arching against his in an invitation for him to continue.

Satoru's fingers found the hem of your underwear, teasing the delicate fabric before sending it somewhere in the room. You clung to his shoulders, your nails digging into his back as you writhed in pleasure, each touch bringing you closer to the edge.

With a final, desperate kiss, Satoru pulled away just enough to throw off his own clothes. Seeing him, naked and magnificent before you, made your heart skip a beat. He moved between your legs, his hands gripping your hips as he aligned himself with you, his eyes locked on yours with a burning intensity.

“You ready?” He whispered, full of need.

You could only nod, your breathing ragged as anticipation tightened within you. Satoru's lips captured yours in a searing kiss as he thrust into you, filling you completely. The sensation was overwhelming, an avalanche of pleasure that made you arch against him, your moans mixing with his moans of satisfaction.

He set a rhythm that was both tender and demanding, each movement taking you higher, the friction of his body against yours igniting sparks of ecstasy. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as you surrendered to the waves of pleasure washing over you. His name was a breathless plea on your lips, a mantra of desire and need.

“Oh my lovely angel.” He said against your ear. “Can’t wait to fill you up with my baby.” You moaned loudly feeling how he grew bigger inside of you.

“Satoru.” Your body moved closer to him, wanting to be touch.

“So needy, my baby.” He said. “You want that right?” You bite your lips as he started to bite the skin of your neck. “You want me to put a baby in you huh?”

“Yes!” You moaned. “Satoru!”

Satoru's pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more desperate. With one last thrust your back arched and you felt Satoru come completely inside you. The room that just a few minutes ago had been filled with the sound of your voices agonizing from pleasure and your skin colliding, had now been plunged into a sea of ​​silence that was only interrupted by the soft sound of your breaths mixing, while you searched for it to return to normal.

“You know I love you?” He whispered against your now sweaty skin.

You smiled and touched his hair with love. “And I love you too.” You kissed his hair. “Thank you…”

“For what?” He looked at you with his eyes full of curiosity.

“For that day, for coming to me while reading and making me fall in love with you, for everything Satoru.” You smiled.

He shook his head and cupped your face with cherish and love. “I should be the one thanking you angel.” He smiled. “You don’t know how you change my life. I love you so much.”

And both of your lips connected in a sweet kiss full of love, understanding and commitment for one another. You were grateful for going out that day to read on the beach, for looking at those blue eyes, for going out to the back garden despite the warnings, for your heart, your body and your soul reacting to him. You were grateful that man was yours and you were hers.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Extra scene

You watched as Satoru whipped his tears away and Megumi looked at him with a weird expression, you wanted to laugh about the scene but your body was too exhausted to make a single movement, even for a simple laugh.

“You are going to scare her with that face.” Megumi said.

Satoru, still crying, shook his head. “Gumi, I can't help it. Look at your sister, she is so small.”

Megumi looked at her and nodded in agreement. “She is cute. Thankfully she looks like mom and not you.”

Satoru gasped offended and looked at you. “Did you hear that?” You hummed in response and Satoru walked towards you. “How are you feeling, my angel?” He sat down next to you.

“A bit tired.” You smiled. “But… she is finally here with us.”

“She is.” Satoru looked over to where your newborn baby girl was. “You did a great job.” He held your hand. “Thank you.”

Heavily you approached him and kissed him. “Thanks to you Satoru. I love you."

Satoru smiled. “How lucky I am that a woman as amazing as you wants to spend the rest of her life with me. I love you too my angel.” He whispered and kissed you again.

The kiss was interrupted by some small cries and you both smiled, realizing the new stage that awaited you.

Final note: thank you for the love and support ❤️ I have another Gojo fic called Birdie if you want to check it out, also a new Geto fic called The forgotten boy

🏷️: @catobsessedlady @zoeyflower @lavender-hvze @slashersgirlypop @tinydonkeysforlife @oddball08 @tttttttf @crybabytoru @fccxxxcvvx @augustine13028 @alwaysfreakingout @storacy

[tothosewholisten]

Forever Healed I TUA insert

Chapter: 02

<<previous chapter | next chapter>>

Masterlist

…

“What’s the date? The exact date” are the second words I hear come from Five’s mouth in almost 17 years. He brought us to the kitchen after making us question reality with his boyish appearance. We all sat around the kitchen table as he moved back and forth in an oversized suit making some type of snack.

“The 24th..” Vanya answers quietly.

“Of what..?”

I raise my head from looking at Five’s cutting board on the table and speak up “March.” I reply to him,

“Good,” he sighs.

All of us are dumbfounded, Klaus even has his hand over his mouth in shock. But Luther is the first of us to bring up the matter. “So, are we gonna talk about what just happened?” He says.

Five's head stays unmoved from his cutting board, pulling out two slices of bread and a knife. I could tell what he was starting to make now from Vanya’s earlier statements. We all stare at him, but Klaus and I turn to give each other a look.

Luther stands up from his seat and slightly raises his voice so Five will hear him. “It’s been 17 years.”

But Five scoffs at him “It's been a lot longer than that.” Moving closer to the now-standing Luther. He blinks behind Luther to grab something. Standing on a step stool I might add.

“I hadn’t missed that.” Luther states. But I'd have to disagree since I always thought that Five had the coolest power of all of us.

‘Where’d you go?” I asked, head resting on my palm. I sat on the table right next to Klaus with my legs dangling off the right side during all of this and was getting a bit tired from today's mysteries.

“The future” Five blinks back to his original spot “It's shit, by the way.” He adds.

Klaus raises a finger to the sky, “called it!” He exclaims looking around at everyone’s not grinning faces.

“I should've listened to the old man.” Five says grabbing another item from our crappy outdated fridge. A sentence I never thought I'd hear him say. He quotes Reginald and says “You know, jumping through space is one thing, jumping through time is a toss of the dice.”

Five finally gives us his whole attention by scanning the crowd. “Nice dress.” He says to Klaus.

“Oh well, Danke!” Klaus cheers. I wish I knew what he was talking about.

“Wait- how did you get back?” Vanya cuts in, waving her hand in the air.

Five dips his knife into the peanut butter and gives her a blank look. “In the end, I had to project my consciousness forward into a suspended quantum state version of myself. That exists across every possible instance of time.” I don’t think a single person in that room heard what he said.

“That makes no sense,” Diego calls out from his chair. Saying the one thing we were all thinking.

“Well, it would if you were smarter.” Five words made Deigo rise from his chair starting to lunge at the teen, but with one arm Luther stopped his whole body from moving. Five furrows his brows unbothered while still crafting his sandwich.

“How long were you there?” Luther asks calmly.

“Forty-five years. Give or take” and everyone sits back down, eyes wide at Five. All of our faces had a look of shock mixed with pity for him, all these years we had no idea where Five was. But instead of the answer being that he joined the circus or something, it is the sad idea that he was lost in time with no help. A little boy growing into a man and navigating a shitty future.

“Wait, hold on.” I blink awake from my thoughts. “So what are you saying? You're 58?”

Five somewhat grits his teeth and states matter of factly at me. “No, my consciousness is 58. Apparently, my body is now 13 again.” He puts the two pieces of bread together to finally create his peanut butter marshmallow sandwich. He walks around as he starts to eat it.

“Delores kept saying the equations were off.” He says. Okay confused once again, who’s Delores? And who names their kid that? “Bet she’s laughing now.”

“Delores?” Vanya questions but Five never gives her a response, just chews. He picks up a newspaper from one side of the table instead though, it states news about Reginald's death along with other such topics.

“Guess I missed the funeral.” He hums flipping through the pages.

“How’d you know about tha-?” Luther asks stupidly.

“What part of the future do you not understand?” I try to hide my smile from his words. He was the same old Five that I knew even all these years later. “Heart failure huh?” He asks the table.

Diego and Luther both say the opposite things at the same time, then snap their heads around to give each other a nasty look.

Five clicks his tongue. “Nice to see nothing has changed.” He puts the newspaper down and leaves all of us in the kitchen as he walks away.

Alison turns and calls out to him giving us her first input of the discussion “Uh, that's it? That’s all you have to say?” As she flails her arms.

Five stops by the archway into the kitchen. “What else is there to say? Circle of life.” And he leaves, by the way, I could hear his little dress shoes clamping down the hall. I say he went to his room.

None of us say anything but just stare at each other. This day was going to be very interesting for all of us.

..

I wasn't sure what to do next, now that Five was here the service for Reginald was about to begin. So I headed to my childhood room, just to take one final look at it again.

The first thing that I remember was how creaky the floorboards were as I walked upstairs. When we all used to sneak out of the house it was really difficult to pick a way to go without someone hearing us. We used to go to all kinds of places as a group like Griddy's doughnuts or some park to play on the playground. Just a way for all of us to escape the daily tortures.

I walked past Luther's room to mine at the end of the hallway. I would’ve never put this together as a kid but now I see the rooms were put in that order by our numbers, me being zero I was first.

Although, as a kid, I was never really treated as first in anything. That was Luther. I was more like a spare child. Someone they needed but never thought of first. I would’ve preferred being number 8.

My room was tiny, but I tried to pack it with lots of personality. I'd model it after the rest of everyone’s rooms since I was the last one to get mine. I remember the process of getting my room.

I'd just walked into the building with nothing but a brown stuffed animal bear with a small pink bow and my blue dress on. He was my world but he didn't have a name until I grew older. I named him Benny, after my actual world and best friend.

“Number Zero, I will show you to your room now,” Pogo said to me, trying to be as gentle as possible. I was very fragile at that stage, as anyone would be if they were dragged here kicking and screaming. The whole house was truly terrifying to the younger me, barely standing at 4 ‘10. I thought the academy was going to swallow me whole.

Without protest I let Pogo hold my hand and bring me upstairs. My room at that time had nothing in it but a bed and a window. It looked freshly constructed like it wasn't a room before my arrival. Like it was planned just for me, which I guess it was.

I was left alone with my thoughts for like an hour before I first met Grace who’d asked me if I wanted to make cookies with her, for me and the other children to enjoy. And I liked her instantly, she was the first person to make me smile. But I didn't see any of the other children for two days and I still to this day don’t know where they went.

But now my room was fully decorated with a desk where I’d work on new sketches or write in my journal. My hobbies were always drawing and painting.

Above my brown desk was a mirror where I'd get ready every morning and a bunch of vines that hung down from a shelf. That shelf was stacked with books that I've probably read one hundred times over by 17.

What made me really happy was seeing Benny, still on my cream-colored sheets all these years later. Even though I'm sure I tucked him away somewhere before I left. I should’ve taken him with me.

I held him to my chest with my back turned towards my door for a bit. Taking in all the scents of my room, Benny smelled like rose petals courtesy to Mom who washed him every time I spilled something on him with rose detergent. I closed my eyes and he was immediately taken out of my hands by someone who came up close behind me.

“Klaus, give him back.” I frowned. I knew it was Klaus even if he was trying to be sneaky. His heart was loud and his steps were still heavy, and if that wasn't enough the smell of alcohol could give it away.

“Aw man, how’d you know it was me.” He sighed, handing me Benny back.

I giggled, turning his way “I always know it’s you, you're the only one who comes in here.” Which wasn’t a lie.

“Mhm sure..” he said, taking a step further inside to look around. “This place looks the same!”

He pointed to my beanbag in a corner and said. “This is where we'd do drugs as kids awww!” He gushed. After a second we both started laughing hysterically no way I forgot what we did in here. Yes, I did try weed in here once when I was 16 or 15, I caught Klaus with it and told him to stay safe with it. And then before I knew it he’d started sharing his cigarette with me.

“How’d I forget about that?” I asked him.

He grinned. “You were probably too stoned to remember anything. Sweet Y/n had a rebellious side to her. But that wasn't the only thing we did you know? All those times we snuck out to get more was the fun part.”

“I definitely haven’t done any since.” I shake my head before pausing. “Or maybe I just don’t remember.” I joked.

He sat down on my bed and I sat with him. “You wanna do some more?” He asked with a childish look.

“No way” I replied to him, dropping Benny on the bed to make an X with my arms. “My rebel ways are over.”

He pouted and looked down at my fluffy bear. “Who’s this?” He exclaimed. I forgot that everyone didn't know about my bear minus Grace and Pogo. I was too embarrassed to let the fellow 12-year-olds know that I still slept with a teddy.

“Uhm, he’s mine,” I say scratching my hand. But I'm sure he already knew that part.

Klaus folds his hands into his lap and kicks his shoes off. Getting fully immersed in the story I was about to start. “Do go on.” He asks.

“I've had him since I was a baby.” I started but Klaus shifted a little in his seat knowing that my home before here was a little taboo. “He’s very special to me and up till recently he didn't have a name. But now his name is Benny.” As soon as I say that his head shoots up to stare at a corner of my room. “Klaus?” I try to get his attention. It was a bit spooky though since no one was there.

He suddenly turns back and engulfs me in a hug. I knew he knew what I meant by the name choice, the three of us were super close. I named him after the only one of us whose life was robbed from him too soon, Ben who was Number six.

“I still sometimes blame myself.” I let fly out of my mouth. “Just the fact that I couldn’t save him, and that's literally all that I do.”

Klaus hugs tighter before letting out a sad sound. “He doesn’t want you to think that Y/n, not at all.”

I pulled away confused. “I'm sorry, you said he doesn’t?”

Klaus stutters. “D- Did I say he doesn’t? I mean he wouldn't! Of course, no one would want you to think that especially when it was something you couldn’t control.”

I frowned anyway trying to dig these thoughts into the back of my mind. He grabbed my hand and pulled me away from my comfy bed and Benny. Ushering me out of my room.

“One death is enough to think about, let’s send off Daddy dearest and get out of here.” He snickers “You wanna get a sandwich with me later? I'm afraid I'm out of cash though.” Klaus looked through his pockets like it would just magically appear.

My frown turns into a grin. “Don’t worry sandwiches are on me.”

Klaus almost leaps in the air with excitement, “See this is why you're my favorite.”

..

By the time we got downstairs, everyone had gathered around the longue once again. This time getting ready for the end of this crazy day, the ceremony. It had started raining so I told Klaus to get an umbrella for himself. He picked up a small pink frilly thing that belonged to one of us when we were kids and walked outside. I grabbed a blue one with a black handle.

The heavy rain fully affected all of our moods instantly, everyone turned somber and cold. We stood in a circle in the courtyard, where we'd been for Five's return earlier. Except two of us didn't have umbrellas, Luther and Diego who wanted to be different I guess.

My eyes met with Ben's statue and I was suddenly glad for the rain because it would mask any teardrops that would’ve fallen. Being too close to bad memories and being even closer to new ones is about to form now.

“Did something happen?” Grace asks innocently. It was almost like she had no idea what happened at all. But I thought since she was a robot she would have to remember all these key moments.

“Dad died. Remember?” Allison gives her a strange look.

“Oh. Yes, of course.” Grace looks down at her feet.

We all gave her a confused glance and Alison asked a question. “Is Mom okay?” She said to no one in particular.

But Diego was the one to respond since he was right next to her. “Yeah, yeah, she’s fine. She just needs to rest. You know, recharge.” Which didn't sound very convincing at all.

We all waited for one last person, Pogo, to come into our circle so we could move on. Or at least so I can move on.

“Whenever you’re ready, dear boy.” Pogo nods to Luther as he joins us. Luther was standing in the middle holding Reginald’s remains in a black urn. He stumbles around a bit before opening it up. And pouring it onto the mud floor. It mimicked the way that sand would fall in someone’s hand when picked up,

Klaus, cigarette in hand, grits his teeth at the unsatisfactory delivery right next to me. And Luther looks up to see all of us staring at him, thinking the same thing.

“Probably would have been better with some wind.” Luther thinks out loud.

“Does anyone wish to speak?” Asked by Pogo who looks around at us, we all avoid his gaze. I'd speak if everything that would’ve come out of my mouth wasn't swear words.

“Very well.” Pogo clears his throat. “In all regards, Sir Reginald Hargreeves made me what I am today. For that alone, I shall forever be in his debt. He was my master.. and my friend, and I shall miss him very much.” I sympathized with Pogo and his words. But I could never call Reginald any of those things myself. He made me hurt, he made us suffer and I will never forgive him.

Pogo carries on. “He leaves behind a complicated legacy—“

“He was a monster,” Diego speaks out.

Klaus laughs and everyone looks surprised by his words, even though they secretly thought the same. “He was a bad person and a worse father. The world is better off without him.” He states.

“Diego” Alison tries to stand in.

“My name is Number Two. You know why? Because our father couldn’t be bothered to give us actual names, he had Mom do it.”

Like a switch was turned on Grace replies with an enthusiastic “Would anyone like something to eat?” She says.

“No, it's okay mom.” Vanya says.

“Oh, okay.” She replied, her strange enthusiasm never leaving her tone.

Diego starts to rant to us. “Look, you wanna pay your respects? Go ahead. But at least be honest about the kind of man he was.”

Luther looks at him angrily, “You should stop talking now.”

Diego stops looking at us to stare down Luther once again. “You know, you of all people should be on my side here, Number One.”

“I'm warning you.”

Five turned to me and Klaus to see what we thought of their bickering. We got ready for something that was about to go down.

“After everything he did to you? He had to ship you a million miles away.”

“Diego, stop talking.” Luther bears his teeth when Diego moves almost uncomfortably close to him.

“That’s how much he couldn’t stand the sight of you!” Diego yells pointing his fingers to Luther's chest. I knew that would set him off. And it did because Luther swung at him which he gracefully avoided. And the two started to fight.

I looked at Klaus again, my eyes asking if we should get involved. But that never turned out well in any of their other fights. And as expected Klaus shook his head and mouthed no to me.

They kept punching at each other for a crazy amount of time. Both being well trained in fighting they were able to not get him by the other. Pogo yells trying to get their attention. “Boys, stop this at once!” He tries to persuade.

Klaus moves both me and Five out of the way like we were in any length close enough to get harmed anyway. Five slaps his arm out of the way.

Luther finally lands a hit on Diego causing him to lose his footing and slide back a sizable amount of feet. “Come on, big boy!” He screams. Luther goes in for another punch but Diego gets the upper hand and starts to pound his tiny fist in comparison to Luther's huge body again and again.

“Knock it off,” I called out, I thought it was almost like my job to say something. Even though the number system was not in place and we were our own people now it still felt like my place to break off their fights.

But as if I'm the angel on their shoulders the devil right next to me named Klaus yells for them to keep going. The sounds of their punches get louder as they descend into madness. Pogo sighs and walks off, realizing it’s hopeless to try and stop them.

Luther hurdles Diego onto the ground almost at the feet of Ben's statue.

“Oh no..” The words I said were felt by all the people around me. We all started to move in getting more weary of them doing something bad.

Diego jabs at Luther but his fist is caught by the bigger fist. He then holds Diego out like a child who's being naughty as Diego yells at him to let go. He breaks free and goes for another punch, this time it lands and you can hear the sound of either Luther's jaw breaking or Diego’s hand breaking on impact. I think it's the second. They both pant as Diego steps in front of Ben's statue.

Five gets fed up with all the fighting. “We don’t have time for this.” He says before storming off back into the house. Leaving me and Klaus to watch the fight with different expressions.

“Come here, big boy.” Diego antagonizes while standing in front of his brother's statue.

Luther runs up and takes a swing at him.

“Stop it!” My shaky voice screams. They were getting too close to him..

Diego dodges Luther’s hit and he falls over his fist going straight through Ben's statue. Making him crash onto the floor and his head comes right off. Luther stops.

I fight the urge to scream out as he falls down. The statue dedicated to Ben had been destroyed right in front of my eyes. Due to his sibling's stupid argument over something so small compared to Ben's big impact on the Umbrella Academy. On me.

Klaus lets out a sigh but doesn't look to me to see. By his tone he didn't think this was as important as it was to me. This was one of the last things of Ben I had.

“And there goes Ben’s statue..” Alison points out the obvious. No way that was it, there had to be a way of fixing it. It had to go back up. She walks away as I leave Klaus’s side to step to Luther.

Thinking the fight was over, I was steaming with anger about to cursing the hell out of him.

“Deigo no!” Shouts Vanya and I should've turned around.

His knife hits me in the back of my arm cutting right through my sweater and my skin. Right before hitting Luther’s arm as well. Diego’s once smug face is wiped clean at the realization. I thought all his knives had perfect accuracy but maybe it was the fact that he was tired after fighting or maybe since he still hit his target he thought it was whatever.

I know my arm will heal but it still hurts like a bitch. Since his knives were made for injuring. Luther gasped, grabbing onto his wounded arm. I was still so angry at him for what he just did but I still wanted to heal him. I take a step closer reaching my palm out but he runs past me and back into the house. His big steps filled my ears.

I turned to Diego and he knew what was coming for him “You never know when to stop, do you?” I point at Ben’s statue. “Now look at what you did.” Before I could let my full feelings out, I knew I needed to get out of there. So I gave one final look at Ben’s once again dead body and walked away. My arm radiates a yellow glow as the slice heals.

I left Vanya, Klaus and Grace there with Diego.

..

Vanya gives Diego a hurt look as she also turns to leave, but not before he lets out his last snide comment of the afternoon.

“You got enough material for your sequel yet?” He bows his head down to get into her face.

She looks at him before saying. “He was my father, too.” Then leaves. It wasn't clear if he truly took in her words.

Diego walks over to his Mom. “Mom, let's go inside.” She seems reluctant. “Come on. Okay? Come on.” They both walk inside of the house.

Klaus sat on a bench in the pouring rain as they left. His legs crossed and deep in thought. He puts his cigarette back into his mouth and walks over to his Dad’s remaining ashes.

“I bet you're loving this. Hmm?” He says to the ashes. “The team at its best. It’s just like old times.” Before letting his cigarette die out into the “ashtray” of his father’s remains.

“Best funeral ever!”

…

Aug 14 update:

If you'd like to be added to the tag list for rest of the series (starts at chapter 10) say taglist in the comments!

[flowercrowngods]

@steddie-week

part 1 (bc this is one big 7 part story)

day 02: bittersweet & angst

1 new message

eddie The Problem munson: engagement party on saturday babyyyy 🥳🥸🕺

Steve’s been staring at the message for two days now. It's sitting in his notifications, staring at him like a painful reminder of what happened exactly seven days ago. A week. It's only been a week, and Steve somehow it feels like it was both only one day or seven months ago.

It's an almost liminal experience, walking through life without texting Eddie every second of the day – because texting him would mean opening his message. It would make this real.

And that's the last thing Steve wants.

"I'm not going," Robin declares as they're cuddling on the couch, wallowing in their misery as Mayday Parade's Oh Well, Oh Well is playing for the eighth time on repeat. "Tell me you're not going, Stevie."

"Robbie," he sighs, squeezing her tighter as she tries to wriggle out of his arms to glare at him.

"Steve."

"I can't not go."

"Yes you can." She pokes him in the ribs, but he doesn't budge. She pokes him again. "Not going to things is literally the easiest thing in the world. It's a hundred times easier than going to things. You should try it sometime, trust me. You go to too many things, and–"

"Bee," he hums to get her out of the rambling spiral before she can get lost in it.

"What I'm saying," he interrupts herself dramatically, "is that you can't do this to yourself. They're engaged. They're getting married. We're going to keep our distance until our brains and hearts and the traitorous little chemicals in our bodies catch up to reality, and then we get over them, and then we can go back and see them ever again. That's the logical thing to do, Steve. But you can't... You can't just go and get your heart broken and talk yourself into thinking it's the right thing to do. It's not."

Steve sighs into her hair and buries his face in her neck. He knows that. Technically, logically, he does.

But not going feels wrong. Wronger than anything else that's been hollowing out his chest and leaving nothing but emptiness and the ghosts of every smile, every touch, every baby, love, sweetheart, sunshine. Every imaginary future, every scenario where Eddie meant it. Meant those words, meant those smiles, meant it when he took Steve's hand to hold it.

But Eddie did mean it. Every time, he meant it; because he calls Argyle and Jeff and Gareth baby and sunshine and sweetheart, too. He takes their hands, too, leans in to kiss their cheeks and just holds them when he needs to. That's just the kind of person Eddie is. Always has been.

To go and assume he never meant it would be unfair.

To go and hope it could ever mean more when Chrissy has always been right there would just be stupid.

Well, good thing Steve has that kind of reputation with a few people anyway, so it's not even a statistical outlier, that one. It's not even worth a side note.

"I know," he rasps, his eyes beginning to sting as the next lyrics are carved into the empty space of where his heart used to be.

Oh well, oh well I can't live with myself As I'm climbing in your window to get to your bed.

And I'll be what you need, You can call me anything. Just as long as we're still friends.

Tears prickle in his eyes and he doesn't bother to hold them back. Not now, not with Robin. They've both been crying on and off all week, even though Robin took it better than him.

"I know," he sobs, wrapping his arms around her even tighter as she lets herself be held because she knows that's what he needs. "I know, I know, I know. But I have to. I can't just... I can't just stop, Bee."

"I know," she sighs, climbing out of his hold eventually to wrap her arms around him in return as he cries into her shoulder.

The world (read: his Spotify playlist) makes it worse by playing Sum 41's With Me next, ripping out even the newly carved words.

Robin holds him for the rest of the night, even as he finally opens Eddie's message and types out a reply.

—I'll come!

And especially when there's a new message immediately.

—hot 🥵❤️

He leaves Eddie on read after that.

~*~

Saturday rolls around in a haze, and suddenly Steve finds himself looking at the front door of the little house Chrissy inherited after her mother passed a few years ago. It's a nice little house. Quaint. Perfect. Everything Steve could ever dream of, actually. And she deserves it. All of this and more.

There's noise coming from the garden, where people are laughing and having a great time. A happy time, celebrating their friends and all the good things in life that come with a love well placed.

God, what is he doing here? He can't do this. There is no way.

He's just about to pull out his phone and call Robin, tell her he's coming home, or ask her to tell him everything's gonna be alright, when–

"Steve!" Chrissy hurries towards him, throwing her arms around him in a tight, warm, perfect hug. God, he loves her so much. He melts right into the embrace, wrapping his arms around her middle to spin her around with a grin.

She giggles in delight and tells him to let her down again, which only makes him spin for another round, his grin turning into a genuine laugh.

"No, I hate you!" she laughs, but still doesn't step away from him when he puts her down again. Instead, she leans up and brushes a kiss to his cheek. "Hi, asshole."

"Hi."

He grins and takes her hands in his, just smiling at her for another moment before his eyes trail down to a ring he's never seen her wear before. Ah. Right.

"Oh shit! That it?"

"That's it," Chrissy says, looking down at her hand to look at the ring with a fond, happy little smile, her cheeks flushing red. It breaks Steve a little, but it also fixes something inside him to see her so truly, genuinely happy. "Pretty huh?"

"Very," Steve breathes, hiding the lump in his throat with a sound of awe.

Chrissy hugs him again for good measure and then takes his hand to drag him into the backyard the same way she just came out front, through a little gate off to the side instead of through the house.

Steve loves their backyard because it's always covered in sheerly endless colourful strings of light that are wrapped around decorative arches or poles, framing the back doors and the canopy swing set on the lawn, and just give it the most homey and comfortable atmosphere.

"Stevie!" Eddie exclaims immediately and jumps off from his chair, interrupting a conversation he's apparently been having with Argyle and Nancy to run up to him with such a giddy expression that Steve wants to cry. His heart leaps in his chest, coming back to life and saying one last goodbye at the same time.

"Hi," he says, hugging Eddie close before he can so much as think about what he's doing. But no matter how hurt he is, there will never be a world in which he won't want to hug Eddie Munson. "Sorry I'm late."

"No sorries, it's fine," Eddie murmurs into his neck, staying in the embrace endlessly, and Steve takes the chance to breathe him in. He smells so good. So, so good. It clogs his lungs and renders him unable to speak.

But who needs to speak when they have Eddie in their arms? Who needs to speak when all they have to do is never let go?

Eddie squeezes him a little tighter, and Steve wants to cry. He slowly, gently pushes away from the hug and turns towards the other guests, greeting them with a grin, a hug, or a handshake if they're not familiar.

When he gets to Wayne, the man eyes him with a look that Steve doesn't want to read too much, and his embrace is just a little longer, just a little stronger than usual.

“You look tired, son,” he says by way of greeting, and Steve can’t help but snort and shake his head a little.

“Good to see you again, too, old man.”

Wayne eyes him for one moment longer, then breaks into a small smile and pats Steve’s shoulder before stepping around him to go grab another drink.

After that, the night passes in a blur of talking to his friends, trying to understand what the hell it is that has Nancy and Argyle arguing so profusely, but with smiles on their faces. He fails. But it’s good to see them again, so he just basks in it for a while.

Or, he tries, because every second that he’s not talking or listening to someone, his eyes flick back to Eddie. Eddie, who’s lifting Chrissy from behind and smacking a loud, wet kiss to her neck, her jaw and her cheek, accompanied by her delighted squeals and laughter.

Eddie, who’s looking larger than life, a happy grin permanently plastered on his face as he reminds their guests that Chrissy was his bisexual awakening.

“I swear, she just swept me off my feet after years of thinking I was only into dudes. Knew I had to marry her, but man, I don’t know why she said yes.”

“I’m settling, honey,” Chrissy calls from the other end of the table they’re sitting around. “Only in it for that rockstar money and all.”

The whole table laughs at that.

“Hear, hear,” Eddie snorts, lifting his glass in a toast. Steve and the others lift theirs, too, even though Steve’s hand and arm and whole body feels numb and he’s not entirely sure he’s breathing.

A while later, he grabs a drink and retreats to the canopy swing, illuminated in the soft pink flow of the fairy lights wrapped around it. Eddie’s eyes land on him for a second and Steve thinks that he’ll come over and join him — but then one of Chrissy’s friends says something that distracts him and seemingly makes him fall into a monologue of sorts.

Steve watches, feeling only loss and longing as he does. Eddie is a force of nature. A spectacle. Something beautiful, something powerful, something secret that only a select few get to witness. To know. To appreciate.

Staring as he is, blind to the rest of the world, he startles a little when the swing jostles with another weight settling on it. He didn’t see Wayne coming to join him, and he’s not quite sure whether he should be grateful for the company or apprehensive of what the man who’s like a father to him might have to say.

“How are you doing, son?”

He frowns. “I’m alright.”

Wayne only hums, and Steve’s frown deepens. There’s a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that tells him Wayne knows something. That he knows.

“Y’know,” he continues after a while, not looking at Steve but rather at his nephew and his fiancée. “I always figured it would be you.”

Steve crumbles. Yeah, me too, he wants to say, but that would be a lie. Watching the way Chrissy sits on Eddie’s lap with his arms around her, his chin on her shoulder as he tells her something that makes her laugh that cute, pretty, adorable laugh that Eddie then can’t help but join — that’s just something Steve would never compare to. Nothing he’d ever want to come in between.

Eddie and Chrissy are perfect. They’re happy. They fit, they match, they work. They worked so hard and treat each other so right.

They look giddy and serene at the same time, and it makes Steve’s eyes sting. Because he can never make Eddie look like that. He can never make Eddie look at him like that.

I always figured it would be you.

But he couldn’t. That bubbly kind of love, the sunshine kind of love. He knows that’s not for him. Steve’s too much for that. He would never be enough for Eddie — even if without Eddie, there’s nothing left of him.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Wayne continues, unaware of Steve’s thought spiral. “I love that girl, I do. Always will. I think she’s too good for Eddie. Don’t tell him I said that,” he adds hastily, and Steve smiles through the tears that threaten to fall again.

“They’re perfect,” he rasps, laughing wetly as Chrissy starts chasing Eddie, who’s hiding behind a very distressed Argyle, who just wants his brochachos to chill!

Maybe it’s a laugh, maybe it’s a sob. He doesn’t have it in him to find out or care.

“They are. Doesn’t mean they’re right, son.”

Steve sighs and tears his eyes away from Eddie. “Wayne.”

“I know, I know.” He lifts his hands in defence. “Shutting up.” After a long pause of holding Steve’s eyes, he asks, “Will you be okay?”

No, he thinks immediately, the lump in his throat too big to say anything. So he just shrugs and swallows. “Sure.”

Maybe. Hardly. Probably not. Definitely not.

"No matter what happens, you'll always be a son to me. You’ll always have a home with an open door with me, you hear me?"

"I’m not going anywhere, wayne," Steve says, though for the first time ever he doesn't really believe that. Maybe he needs to leave. To leave Eddie behind. Get over him. Cut out his heart and leave it here, run away to heal somewhere else, come back as a new person, or just stay away forever.

The thought makes a tear spill as an empty kind of desperation spreads it’s ugly wings inside his chest, and he's too frozen to wipe it away.

"You hear me?" Wayne repeats, gentler this time, but no less urgent for it.

"Yeah," steve rasps. "Thanks."

Another tear falls as Eddie gently pulls Chrissy closer to him and kisses her in the soft glow of the fairy lights above and around them. Their friends cheer. Steve wants to cry his heart out again.

“I—“ he swallows, wiping at his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. I can’t do this, he wants to say. For the first time, that’s what he wants to say. “I think I’m gonna head home soon.”

“You bring your car?”

He shakes his head, feeling foggy and dazed and empty and endlessly, endlessly sad. “Was gonna, uh—“

“Let me drive you.” There’s no room for debate or argument there, and Steve wants to crumble again, but still he shakes his head.

“Wayne, no—“

“I’m taking you, son. Make sure you get home safe, or I won’t be able to sleep tonight. Don’t wanna keep your old man up all night, do ya?”

Steve concedes with a fond eye roll and a grateful smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“That’s what I thought.”

They sit like that for another ten minutes — and if Steve leans into Wayne’s side a little, then that’s nobody’s business but theirs.

The car ride is quiet, but it feels weighted even as Wayne pretends not to see the way Steve keeps wiping at his cheeks as the silent tears keep falling, leaving him powerless to stop them.

I can’t do this, he keeps thinking over and over again.

“Just a little warning,” Wayne speaks up again as he pulls up to Steve’s building. “I think he’s going to ask you to be his best man, Stevie. Don’t do anything you’re not ready for, okay?”

I can’t do this.

He nods, numb again.

“I’ll do anything for him,” he breathes.

“That’s what I’m afraid of, yeah.”

He gets out of the car before he can find out what exactly Wayne means by that. The car stays where it is until the front door closes behind him, until he’s up in his bedroom and finds Robin already asleep.

Ten minutes later, he cuddles close to her and tries hard not to cry, but tonight’s memories have burned themselves into his mind. And he shouldn’t have gone. He knows. He knows.

I’ll do anything. I can’t do this. I’ll do anything. I can’t do this.

He can’t breathe, and Robin holds him through it, whispering sleepily to him as he cries himself to sleep, wishing for a world where he’s not absolutely and utterly in love with Eddie Munson, but failing to imagine one.

I’ll do anything. Anything but this.

tagging: @sexymothmanincarnate @mcneen come back tomorrow for idk which prompt | read part 3 here

[aohisworld]

MAGNETIC PULSE! 02

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ ENHYPEN’s new co-ed group starts their first album, MANIFESTO. Aohi makes a mistake that allows Jungwon, to give her a bit of sympathy that she didn’t ask for.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ eventual poly!ot7 x added member!oc. (jungwon centric). contains. angst, a little arguing, a smooch, uhm cringe writing lol.

| : ̗̀➛ MINTIE’s NOTES: Jungwon chapter yippee yippee!! Also important announcement that my asks are open now, and I’d love to get some interactions :3 don’t be a silent reader! Reblog, comment, send an ask!!

| : ̗̀➛ WARNING! How I write ENHYPEN is not meant to portray the idols irl, this is my au and I write this for fun. contains angst and a little bit of bickering/awkward tension.

✧. ┊ Jungwon was always born to be a leader, unlike Aohi, who just followed the crowd, Jungwon was born to lead it.

When he was picked as the best candidate for ENHYPEN's leader role, he was overjoyed, of course, but a part of him also wondered if he was ready for that role.

Jungwon worked to his limit to make sure ENHYPEN was where they were now. Aohi and Xiulin... he was stumped on what to do, they were suddenly thrust upon his plate when he already had so much.

Jungwon had no idea how to lead the girls, he didn't go through I-LAND with them, nor did they meet long enough to help them....

so, he didn't.

For about a few months, that went excruciatingly slow by the way, Jungwon barely made the effort to even glance Aohi's and Xiulin's way, well, more Aohi's because he respects Xiulin as his elder sister.

At first, it was smooth sailing for Jungwon, it wasn't that hard to ignore Aohi or avoid her, but as time passed on, Jungwon didn't realize her cold attitude would sting, like being out during a snowfall and it got too cold that your hands would freeze, kind of sting.

Jungwon didn't think the glare Aohi would sometimes direct at him would bother him so much. Like, made his stomach turn kind of bother.

For one, it made him feel like he was a bad person. (he doesn't think he is, is he?)

Secondly, he hated to admit that maybe, just maybe he did deserve it, and he wasn't really living up to the leader name.

Jungwon knows Aohi and Xiulin are his group members now, hell, they're making their first album with the girls now!

As a leader, he was supposed to help the girls, especially when he needed to navigate this whole co-ed situation as well, but he didn't, and knowing that left an incredibly sour taste on the boy's tongue.

That's what brought us to Jungwon now, sitting in an empty meeting room, after a weekly... report? Status? whatever it was, had happened. The boy stared straight ahead at the table, seemingly burning a theoretical hole into the furniture.

He sat unmoving for a while, getting lost in his thoughts, you could say he got it from Sunghoon's morning spacing out routine.

It was only until a can was placed in front of his line of sight did his gaze change from the table, to the girl he was exactly thinking about.

"You stare at that spot any longer, you might've actually burnt a hole into the table."

Jungwon didn't respond, glancing up at Aohi's brown orbs, before looking back down at the can on the table. "What's the drink for?" Jungwon nudged towards the drink, as if scared to touch it.

"To drink? What else?" Aohi stated, sitting opposite of Jungwon, in which Jay sat in before her, so Aohi cringed slightly as she felt the warm seat.

Aohi seemed to magically produce another can of warm tea— Jungwon had analyzed, in front of him, opening it with one hand.

"The drink was Xiulin-unnie's." She hums, blowing inside her can to take her first sip, tasting the tea and nodding her head, outwardly approving the flavour.

"Why didn't you give it to her then?" Jungwon hesitantly took the drink off of the table. "Couldn't find her." Aohi shrugged.

Jungwon made no move to open his drink, sitting up in his chair. "Why're you here?" He asks, moving the metal can from one hand to the other, temporarily using it as a handwarmer.

Jungwon didn't seem to like the fact that Aohi was so close without any reasons to be, he had no idea why he was so alert around her either, as if two cats meeting on a territory and intimidating each other.

"Why can't I be? I'm sitting with one of my members, I don't see anything wrong with that." Aohi's eyes narrowed like that of a cat as she willingly made eye contact.

As the two cat-like members stared on, Jungwon could feel that grumbling feeling in his stomach once again as he didn't back down from the intense eye contact Aohi established.

"I didn't say anything was wrong with it, I mean that you don't really like us—"

"I like Ri-ki, so I don't think that I don't like my group members." Aohi's shrugged once again, "You look at us like we're the worst people on earth." Jungwon scoffed, already disliking Aohi's response.

"I don't know why you have to look for a reason for me to be here, I'm being nice—" Aohi grumbled, placing her drink on the table since she was an easily irritable person, and this conversation— is it still even a conversation? could end up firing her up even more.

"With a stare like that?" Jungwon raised his eyebrows, he'd never seen someone who was being nice have a stare that could probably kill.

"Gosh, why do you have to start a fight with me all of the time?!" Aohi stood from her seat, pointing at Jungwon with an accusatory finger.

"Because you have so much against my hyungs and I! You don't even know us," Jungwon stood up from his seat as well, pushing Aohi's finger away with the back of his hand. "You just decided we're not even worth being nice to!"

"Neither do you! I wasn't the first to be rude, it was the hyungs who looked at me and Xiulin-unnie like we were of no hope!" Aohi argued, her words were true, how could the young girl forget?

Xiulin-unnie had to learn everything for herself and Aohi, because Aohi was finishing her studies and had to miss most of their practices.

Aohi was only angry because she cared for her unnie, and a few months in living like that, Xiulin was already extremely exhausted, and Aohi couldn't do much to help her.

Aohi was frustrated, she only wanted the boys to help, not just Ri-ki, all of the boys.

"Well—" "I'm not done!" Jungwon was silenced by Aohi, taken aback by her sudden outburst, even if he wanted to, what Aohi said was true, they truly didn't think they could debut, not so late into ENHYPEN's career at least.

Still, how could Jungwon admit that?

"Xiulin-unnie and I needed help, and we couldn't even confide in our hyungs, much less our leader." Jungwon's throat dried at Aohi's words, not knowing how to respond to that.

In all honesty, he felt like he was slapped with a hot iron pan of truth.

"Sure, Jake-hyung barely tried to help us with our dance practices, but not before pointing out every little wrong thing from us." Aohi poked her finger to Jungwon's chest, hating the way he was silent.

It wasn't like Aohi didn't know that Jungwon was the type to lead, from just meeting him, you could already feel it. That's what makes it worse.

The girls— Aohi, needed someone to follow, because that's all she knew to do, and she hoped that there was a small chance, Jungwon, as the leader, would knock some sense into his group members and allow her and her unnie to have someone to follow.

Apparently it was too much to ask for.

"We didn't even know each other, and we just decided to hate each other... months straight, we'd barely interact, even when we started to record the album.." Aohi frowned, seeing that she'd stunned Jungwon into silence.

Aohi wasn't sure whether to continue after that, only sighing and sitting back down, taking her cup of warm tea, trying to drink the tension away.

Jungwon stayed standing up, thinking. Jungwon knows he was cruel, but he thought he was doing right, he followed his hyungs along as well.

He could remember his Heeseung-hyung telling him that the girls will not gain anything by being in ENHYPEN, that they should let it be for their own good.

Jungwon should've asked what Aohi and Xiulin's thoughts were, if they could really do it, if they were really willing. Maybe then, he could've helped them, give them a place in the group, rather than giving up on them from the start.

"...I'm sorry." Jungwon hesitated, sitting next to Aohi, rubbing the palms of his hands nervously.

"You're only apologizing because I told you—"

"You're right, but I really am sorry, I mean that from the bottom of my heart." Jungwon interrupted her, Aohi turns to Jungwon, looking at him with a skeptical look.

"I was stressed, and I know that it's not an excuse, because you and Xiulin-noona were also under a lot of pressure," Aohi didn't bother to try and intervene with Jungwon's ramblings, he seemed to have a lot to say.

"But let me try and make it up to you, and Xiulin-noona."

Aohi stayed silent for a few moments, thinking, if Jungwon was genuine, and he was serious about treating her and Xiulin like actual members, maybe...

"It's been months, Jungwon.." Aohi replied curtly, turning to the side, as if hesitant to even agree. "Then I'll make up for it for as long as you girls want."

"You—" Aohi tried to start, Jungwon shaking his head at her reply, "I will, as long as you don't look at me like that again. I'll change."

And change, Jungwon did.

Aohi was taken aback the first time he did something for her, it was an interview, their first interview as a debuted co-ed group.

Aohi sat in one of the dressing rooms, spacing out on a make-up chair as the girls' own stylist worked her magic onto Aohi's newly dyed hair.

Xiulin and Aohi were successfully debuted into the group, despite the boys' hesitance, except Ri-ki and Jungwon, who happily congratulated the two girls.

Aohi remembers how much they had to handle on the first few days, the incorporation of Dark Moon, the making of their first co-ed album, it was a mess, and not to mention they barely had any breaks.

"Aohi-ssi, your make-up is done." Her stylist spoke, ushering her behind to start working on Xiulin next. Aohi stretched her arms in front of her as she sat on the couches, next to Ri-ki.

Ri-ki instantly turned to her, phone in hand to show whatever he was currently laughing at.

While the two teens giggled over whatever was on Ri-ki's screen, Jungwon approached the couch with drinks in hand, just like Aohi did, and for some reason, the leader of ENHYPEN disliked that their youngest was shoulder to shoulder with Aohi.

Without thinking any further, Jungwon pushed the two apart, Aohi looking startled at the sudden intrusion. Aohi looked up, seeing Jungwon looking down at her.

"I got you a drink, you have to stay hydrated." Jungwon took Aohi's hand and placed the cold drink, using his palm to curl her fingers over it.

Aohi's eyebrows just furrowed, glancing at Xiulin, who only stared from the mirror of the stylist chair in shock.

"Thanks, I guess.." Aohi mumbled, placing the drink on the table in front of the couch. Ri-ki didn't seem to notice, or suspect anything as he just returned to bumping shoulders with Aohi and looking at random videos.

Jungwon seemed to bite the inside of his cheek at the unsuccessful attempt at separating the two, wait— why was he even annoyed that they were so close to each other?

"Noona, are you going to drink that?" Ri-ki points to the drink Aohi had recently placed on the table.

"Why, are you thirsty, ki-yah?" Aohi hummed, grabbing the can, wiping the top and popping it open for the youngest to drink.

Jungwon stood behind them, a bit offended as he watched Aohi place the can to Ri-ki's lips, like a big 'screw you!' from Aohi to Jungwon as she gave Ri-ki the first sip of the drink he decided to kindly get for her.

"Good?" Aohi asks Ri-ki, grinning when he nods. "That's really good grape juice." He nods, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

"here, you can have it."

Jungwon could hear his heart crack as he heard that from Aohi's lips, and Aohi heard clearly.

'You aren't gaining my forgiveness that easily..' She thinks, glancing at Jungwon, a slight mischievous smile on her face.

Since then, Jungwon had been... overbearingly kind to Aohi and Xiulin, as in... even sneaking in ordered food for them late at night. Jungwon was really determined to gain Aohi's forgiveness.

Jungwon had already earned Xiulin's respect, it's just Aohi being stubborn.

"Here..." Jungwon huffed, having ran a few floors down and back up to deliver the ordered food to the girls' dorms.

Aohi could only blurt out a small thanks before closing the door in front of their leader's face, stopping him from even saying anything.

Jungwon sat in front of their door for a bit, catching his breath, letting out a sigh before turning around, despite hearing muffled voices behind the door.

"Aohi! That was rude! You know he's still a member, he's stuck with us!" Xiulin whisper-yelled from beside her, opening the door as soon as it was closed. "Sorry, won, she's just hangry, have some with us." The older girl ushered, pulling a turned Jungwon inside.

"Unnie!" Aohi gasped, somewhat stomping her foot from the door and staring up at Jungwon with a frown. "Don't be like that, we ordered enough for an extra person." Xiulin scolded.

"I could've called Ri-ki..." Aohi grumbled, turning around and stomping into the kitchen. "You're not calling the youngest down for some fried chicken, Aohi." Xiulin retorted.

Jungwon stood by the entrance awkwardly, he was the first of the boys to even be in the girls' dorms. "Don't just stand there, go!" Aohi pointed to the living room, chopsticks and plates in her other hand.

Jungwon hesitantly approached the room, looking around curiously at the new environment, before sitting next to Xiulin, on their couch.

"I'm hungry, hurry up!" Xiulin whined from the living room, the TV still turned on, they seemed to be watching a random k-drama, obviously bored but not tired.

"Eung!" Aohi replied, sitting by the table in the middle of their living room as they started to open the food they ordered. Jungwon sat back with his hands on his lap, a bit nervous.

"Loosen up, won." Xiulin looked from behind her, Aohi placing a plate and chopsticks for Jungwon to use. The two girls were silent as they placed the food out.

"Looks so good... I'm literally about to devour everything." Xiulin let out a 'psh!' sound, bumping Aohi's leg with her own and gaining a protest from Aohi.

"I will enjoy this food.." The three recited, Jungwon slowly sliding into the middle of the two girls as they started to eat.

The trio ate silently, an occasional groan or dislike for any event that went on in their k-drama. "She's so fake for going back to her ex.." Aohi spoke, looking at the TV with a furrowed brow.

"Right? Like, if you're going to go back, don't do it in front of the boy who's liked you for forever.." Xiulin scoffed, taking a sip of her cider. Jungwon silently chewed from between them, just listening in.

Jungwon stared down at his plate, swallowing, 'ah... I need some pickled radish..' Jungwon looked for the container around the table, seeing it but... it was being guarded by Aohi.

Jungwon didn't want to ask Aohi, just watching the girl place another cube into her mouth. Xiulin glanced from beside her, seeing Jungwon eye the container.

"Yah, Jungwon wants some, don't finish it all." Xiulin spoke, nudging her head towards Aohi's direction.

Jungwon felt alarmed at the sudden call-out Xiulin made, jumping in his spot, "Ah— no, it's okay!—" Jungwon used his free hand to make a no motion.

Aohi stared at Jungwon, chopsticks in her mouth, before staring back to the TV. The younger boy felt a little awkward as the noise died down between both Aohi and Xiulin.

Aohi then stared down at the container of radishes, there was only five cubes left.. and she really liked the radishes, she glances at Jungwon, who seemed to have a bit of trouble eating the last of his bites, using cider to down it.

Jungwon grabbed the last bite of the boneless bites he was eating, getting ready to chew his way to a finished plate, unknowing to Aohi's gaze at his struggling figure.

In a small moment, Aohi made the decision to pick a cube up from the container with her chopsticks, before turning to Jungwon.. "Eung.." Aohi was feeding him a cube of radish.

Jungwon stopped mid-chew to stare at her like a deer in headlights, Xiulin was too busy being immersed in her digital show to even bother seeing the live-version play out right beside her.

'Did.. did she want to feed me?' Jungwon thought, looking at the radish before looking back up.

Aohi waited with a blank look on her face as Jungwon swallowed his bite, hesitantly coming forward as he used his teeth to bite the radish, so that his lips wouldn't touch her chopsticks.

Jungwon could feel the back of his neck warm slightly, trying to finish his food.

Ever since then, it was even more awkward between Aohi and Jungwon, the leader starting to practically follow the girl around like a cat does to his owner.

Aohi guessed he wasn't that bad, more so tolerable. Aohi didn't mind Jungwon that much, just thought it was a little tiring having to be followed around.

It's been almost eight months since Jungwon promised to change, and Aohi and Jungwon seemed to be... friends? Acquaintances? All the leader knew was that Aohi didn't avoid him anymore.

Aohi was secretly appreciative of Jungwon, he had helped plenty with her and Xiulin with coordinating their first album together, MANIFESTO.

Aohi and Xiulin learnt their roles in the dance pretty quickly, thanks to Ri-ki and Jungwon. Aohi started to find her confidence in being in the group, trying to find her dynamic, trying to fit in.

Aohi thought she was ready, actually. That she was perfectly in the spot she was. That was, until their first performance of their songs.

"Get her and Sunoo off-stage, quickly! Check on her, see if she broke or injured anything!" The staff ran around frantically behind stage, trying to close the lights to cover up the incident on-stage.

It was their first performance of their song, ParadoXXX Invasion, Aohi thought she was going to nail this first performance, she really did.

Aohi lost her footing half-way into the song, tripping onto Sunoo as the two came tumbling down. The lights dimmed as their fans gasped, murmuring at the sudden absence of lights on-stage.

Sunoo held Aohi stable as he winced, feeling a sting from his lower back from where he fell.

Aohi looked at Sunoo with teary eyes, shaking her head as a worried expression washed over her features.

"Sunoo-hyung... I'm so sorry.. I'm sorry- i didn't mean—" Aoihi whispered, wrapping her palm around her mic, just in case it was still on. Aohi didn't want the crowd hearing her lose her composure.

The whole group was ushered off-stage as Aohi couldn't even hold back her tears as she suddenly burst out in worry, and honestly, in fear.

The staff members had no idea how to comfort the overwhelmed girl. Aohi felt vulnerable at this moment, she felt more like Yoon Aohi, the seventeen-year-old girl who was a little too sensitive for her own good.

Xiulin could only usher her away from the eyes of the other members, letting out soft mantras of reassurance as they walked away. Ri-ki and Jungwon looked on in worry, being by Sunoo's side as the medic on seen checked on him.

"Go check if she's okay, I'm okay—" Sunoo grabbed Jungwon's arm, looking at him with a strained smile, knowing Jungwon's conflicted thoughts behind his eyes, of staying with his hyung, or going after Aohi.

Jungwon glanced up one more time from Sunoo to a fading Aohi, through the crowds, the boy could see glimpses of Aohi's face in her hands, her shoulders shaking.

In that moment, Jungwon didn't hesitate to follow after her, swerving through different staffs as his hyungs called for him.

"I'll just leave you here, okay? I'll be right back... just stay here.." Xiulin softly spoke, rubbing Aohi's shoulder for a bit, leaving to go talk with staff.

Jungwon tailed after the girls, approaching the dressing room that Xiulin left. Jungwon stood in front of the door for a bit, hesitating to knock before he did.

Thankfully, he did manage to do it, cracking the door open soon after, entering with as little noise as possible.

Aohi looked up from her make-up stained hands, up at Jungwon. Aohi sniffled as she wondered why Jungwon was there.

Jungwon could feel his heart tighten at Aohi's tear-stained face. Her expression seemed to hurt even worse than all of those glares she shot his way in the past.

Jungwon never wants to see her cry like this again, he wouldn't be able to take it if he did.

"Aohi..." Jungwon calls out softly, approaching the couch as he attempted to sit down, placing a gentle hand on her arm.

Aohi quickly pulled her hand away before Jungwon could even wrap a finger, "Wag mo ako hawakan!— please!" (Don't try to hold me, please.)

Aohi sniffled as she scooted to the side of the couch, making space between her and Jungwon. he didn't know what she was asking of him, not understanding what she said.

Instead, Jungwon sat on the other side of the couch, hoping she just wanted space. Jungwon could feel his stomach spin in worry for Aohi, the last few months, spending time with her made it that way.

Despite Aohi's firm obstacles in the start, trying to push him away, they ended up becoming somewhat close.

"Why're you even here?.." Aohi sobbed.

"I wanted to know if you're okay.." Jungwon frowned, looking at Aohi, itching to bring her into his arms, itching to comfort her.

"Since when did you care?" Aohi spat, she seemed defensive, thoughts racing in her head, she wondered, if Jungwon as the leader, would scold her for being so careless.

Aohi was stressed enough as it was. Jungwon could see that.

"I've always cared, Aohi.. ever since then..." Jungwon whispered, inching closer, freezing when Aohi flinched at his sudden movement.

"Please don't push me away," Jungwon begged. "I'm not here to berate you, or scold you—"

"I don't need your pity!" Aohi cried, a sob following her words. Jungwon held grabbed Aohi's hand as she tried to stand.

"I'm not pitying you, Aohi! I genuinely care for you!" Jungwon begeed once more, keeping Aohi in place, her movements frantic.

Aohi had to admit, Jungwon was pretty strong and she had to scold herself for thinking such things in a situation like this. Aohi tried to pull her hands away from Jungwon when she was pulled into his chest.

Aohi gasped, struggling in his hold as Jungwon held her in place, whispering 'you're okay's and 'relax' in Aohi's ears as she sobbed even more, only grabbing onto his sweatshirt as she cried her teenage heart out into Jungwon's clothes.

"You made a mistake, and that's okay.. it happens.." Jungwon softly comforted the girl in his arms, his hand reaching up to pat the girl's head.

"I just ruined the performance.. I tripped Sunoo-hyung.. I hurt him—" Aohi sobbed out, Jungwon shaking his head with a soft laugh. "Aish... Aohi, you're thinking too much, Sunoo-hyung won't hate you for that."

"It's not just that!" Aohi cried out, Jungwon leans back from his hug, looking down at Aohi, who seemed to stare up at him, her eyes puffy and nose red, Jungwon was convinced he could've been looking at a scared bunny.

"Then what is it? Hm?"

Aohi sniffled for a bit, moving away from her embrace with Jungwon, "I hyped myself up so much for this album... I was so confident, Jungwon," She whimpered, using her arm to wipe her eyes.

"I thought I would be able to do the performance flawlessly. I just embarrassed us, maybe I'm really not meant to be in enhypen, won.."

Jungwon stays quiet at her words, Jungwon is reminded of their starting months, he wonders if he and his hyungs made that mindset for Aohi. Jungwon wonders if he did, he really thought he was cruel.

"Don't say that, you didn't do anything," Jungwon wanted to change those thoughts in the poor girl's head, it was the least he could do.

"You're a hard-working person, Aohi, and you made a mistake but don't think for one second that you don't belong with us because of it."

"...You mean it, won?" Aohi whispered, looking up at the taller boy. Jungwon looked down at her once again, he felt a bit stunned at how Aohi was fine with showing this vulnerable side to her, especially when he's always been avoided by her.

"With everything I have." Jungwon replied, just as soft.

The two continued to keep eye contact with each other, getting lost in each other's gazes. It was quiet in the dressing room, except for the rustling of Jungwon's hand rubbing at Aohi's palm and his rings clinking with hers.

Neither Jungwon or Aohi made an effort to move away from each other, they didn't even bother to notice that, instead of moving away from each other, they inched closer and closer.

"Won?" Aohi whispered, her eyes fluttering softly.

"..Eung?" Jungwon asked, Aohi could feel his breath on her cheek, that's how close they were.

Aohi glanced down at his lips, Jungwon following her actions, dreading for the moment they would touch.

Another minute passes, an inch following.

It was quiet, too quiet.

In a span of a second, Aohi could feel Jungwon close the gap in between them, a soft gasp leaving her lips. His lips were soft, oh so soft.

Jungwon's eyes had fluttered close, he didn't know why he ended up closing the gap, hell, he didn't even register that he was kissing Aohi!

Aohi could've melted from just how soft Jungwon's lips were on hers, it was perfect, so perfect. Aohi wanted it to last forever, the feeling of their lips moving in sync was perfect, like a dream.

but as quickly as a dream ends, it did, Xiulin being the main culprit as she busts into the room.

Aohi and Jungwon jumped away from each other, Aohi fixing her appearance and Jungwon covering the lower half of his face.

"Noona! Are you okay?" RI-ki voiced, his worried figure approaching Aohi as she tried to compose herself.

"Yeah- Yeah, I'm..." Aohi glances at Jungwon, who's forced himself not to even think to turn to look at her. "I'm.. alright.." Aohi finishes her sentence, her voice lowering softly.

"We should get you out of here, the staff gave us the green light.." Xiulin spoke curtly, staring at Jungwon as she rubbed Aohi's shoulder.

Before Aohi could even get a word in, Ri-ki was already ushering her up, softly telling her to move. Xiulin taking over when she reaches the door.

"But, won—" Aohi tried to call for the other member, Ri-ki only blocking her sight. "Go, noona." The youngest pleaded, wanting Aohi to rest.

Aohi didn't say anything further as Xiulin pulled her outside, reaching the car with their stuff in tow, letting the younger girl enter the car first.

"Unnie-" Aohi tried to speak her mind before Xiulin could even scold her, but she was instantly silenced by the way her elder sister just sent a glance her way.

"Aohi, what were you thinking?" Xiulin spoke from her seat, leaning back into her seat.

"Unnie.. it was a mistake, I really didn't mean to trip—" Xiulin made a 'nuh uh' sound, shaking her head as she raised her hand up to stop Aohi from speaking even more.

"Not. That." Xiulin turns to her dongsaeng, a slightly annoyed look on here face. "I mean that... the— you know!" Xiulin motions to her hand, making kissing motions by touching the tips of her fingers together.

Aohi watches the action with her lips ajar, she opened her mouth to try and make a reason, an excuse, on why she did it, why she... kissed Jungwon.

Since nothing came out, she only sighed, looking off to the window, as if deep in thought. There was barely any sunlight left, the night coming to replace the sun.

"I don't know.. Unnie, believe me, I was upset and—" Xiulin clicked her tongue. "I thought you disliked our members? That's all you could ever talk about, remember?"

"I know but-" Aohi sighed, looking down at her fingers, fiddling with the rings. "Jungwon- He's different—" Xiulin suddenly puts her hands up in the air, it's like she's finally noticing the plot of a k-drama.

"Different? Because he was nice? You and I have known him for a few months, batsy!" Xiulin argued. Aohi flinches at her aggressive tone, feeling like a kicked cat on the curb.

"It's the way he's changing! Believe me, I tried to push him away, but he was persistent, and I started to change—" Xiulin huffed in her seat, she truly wonders what was going through Aohi's head.

Xiulin thought of the future of ENHYPEN as quickly as she saw the scene of Aohi and Jungwon. It would cause such an outrage, especially between newly-debuted members and how it would conspire so many rumours.

Xiulin's heart was in the right place, worrying about their careers, but she has to understand that Aohi didn't mean for the kiss to happen.

"Unnie.. you said it yourself, we're stuck with them! Is it so bad to try and change? To want to be on better terms with them?" Aohi reasoned, pleading her older member to understand.

"You call that better terms, Aohi?" Xiulin frustratingly replied. The two girls seemed to struggle with finding a middle ground. "Kissing Jungwon is worse than having something against him."

"I like him, unnie!" — "Is you liking Jungwon worth more than our careers?!"

Aohi stays silent at this, for once her stubbornness flickers out like a flame.

She thinks about the whole situation from Xiulin's eyes. She and her unnie worked to debut after being picked out of their respective groups and now that they are debuting, Aohi could ruin it.

Hell, she should be lucky it was Xiulin and.. maybe Ri-ki? who saw the kiss.. Oh gosh, what about Ri-ki? What will he do?

"I'm sorry, unnie... I didn't know what I was thinking..." Aohi whispered, deciding to back down and agree to Xiulin. Her unnie turns to her, seeing the young girl deflate into her chair with a soft sniffle.

Aohi was obviously upset, feeling dejected. Xiulin could only sigh, "You should stay away from Jungwon off-camera.. You and won will only hurt yourselves if feelings start to form..." Xiulin reaches over to rub her arm on the girl's shoulder, in attempt to comfort her.

Aohi only nods, their conversation ending as their separate manager enters the car, ready to drive them home.

MUSIC BANK DRESSING ROOM, 8:56 PM—

"Hyung." A voice calls out for him. Jungwon could only squeeze his eyes shut for a few moments. "Look, just- don't tell the others.." He let out a sigh through his nose, looking up at Ri-ki, who seemed visibly upset.

"I don't care about that, you shouldn't of done that to her." The youngest spoke. Jungwon was taken aback at the sudden hostility coming from Ri-ki.

"Ri-ki, what are you talking about?" Jungwon's eyebrows furrowed, looking appalled at the youngest's behaviour.

Ri-ki clenches his fists, biting the inside of his cheek. "You shouldn't of kissed her."

Jungwon wonders why he'd bring this up, he already knew? What does Ri-ki gain from telling him again?

"You don't think I know that? I'm saying not to mention it to the other hyungs, I'll—" Jungwon spoke, trying to pass the conversation as quickly as possible, the leader didn't want to speak about it, his mind jumbled from the big events of today.

"You're going to hurt Aohi-noona, you know that?" Ri-ki replies, and at this point, Jungwon wonders why he cares so much. Sure, their youngest and Aohi has been closest, but to be so defensive about her?

"Ri-ki, drop it please." Jungwon pleaded, Ri-ki flicking his head to the side, as if ticked off. "she doesn't deserve that, you—" Jungwon stopped Ri-ki from saying even more words, words that could hurt both of them.

"I care about Aohi as much as you do, Ri-ki!" Jungwon argued, Ri-ki biting back just as fierce. "I don't just care, Jungwon-hyung!" He yells, and Jungwon is quiet for a few moments, wondering what he meant.

"You're blowing this out of proportion, ki. You know we're just friends." And at this, Ri-ki scoffs. He felt like a little kid being hid away from things he obviously understood.

"Don't bullshit me, please, hyung." Jungwon clenches his jaw, he could feel the tension rise between them.

It was a familiar feeling, one that started to become obvious as months passed, the more both spent time with Aohi.

"You don't think I notice? The way you look at Noona like she showed you the wonders of the world," Ri-ki steps towards Jungwon, and the older boy takes a step back.

"You used to hate her, and now you kiss her like the past just didn't happen?"

"That was months ago! Aohi and I are on better terms!" Jungwon takes this as an opportunity to stand his ground with Ri-ki, he has never seen their youngest be so rebellious, or hell, angry with them.

"Still! I won't let you play with her feelings like that!"

Jungwon is angered at this, Ri-ki doesn't get to put that claim on him, not when he spent months caring for Aohi, not when he's made a habit to glance at Aohi to make sure she's okay, or always asking her if she needs any help.

Not when Jungwon spent so much time caring, not when he started to form feelings, when he started to love her.

"I'm not playing with anyone's feelings, Ri-ki!" Jungwon finally yells, like a cat defending his territory, feeling offended and intimidated.

"You don't get to accuse me of that! Aohi is just as important to me! I get my actions but I won't do it again! So, drop it!"

"No! I'm not dropping it!" Ri-ki keened.

"God, Ri-ki! Why do you care so much?!" Jungwon groaned, "I said I wouldn't do it again, what more could you want?—"

"It's because I have feelings for her!" Ri-ki reveals, his hand instantly reaching up to slap over his lips. It was so shocking that even Jungwon's eyes widened slowly at his words, not expecting to hear that fall from Ri-ki's lips.

Even Ri-ki's surprised that those words came out of his own mouth.

"I.. I like her."

The two stare at each other for a while, before Ri-ki couldn't handle his hyung's gaze, dashing out with a heavy heart, and a twisting stomach.

Jungwon seemed to grab at a table behind his back, feeling his knees weaken. His hands reached up to wipe the sweat on his face, the temperature of the room seemed to change as the fighting between the two got worse.

Jungwon repeated Ri-ki's works in his head over and over, as if it was a mantra. Ri-ki liked her, he had feelings for her.

God, what will he do?