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kitten4sannie · 2 months ago

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pairing: werewolf! mingi x hunter! reader (fem)

genre: fluff, romance, smut

summary: you seemingly end up biting off more than you can chew upon discovering that the beast you hunted down for dinner is not what it seems.

w.c: 4.5k (more plot than smut this time hehe)

warnings: needy soft dom! mingi, sub! reader, pet names + praise only (shocking ik), pheromones mentioned, possessiveness, kissing, groping, tit play, spit + drool bc wolf mingi is a messy boy <3, mingi eats out reader like she’s his last meal 🫶🏼, SIZE KINK,,, feral unprotected sex, knotting <333, bulge kink/cum inflation, breeding kink ofc

a/n: IT’S FICTOBER TIME BITCH LETS FUCKING GOOO 🗣️ i am fashionably late ~ but i have come here to humbly offer you lovestruck werewolf mingi 🐺 <3 this is the softest my fictober stories will get btw lol it’s gonna be depravity from here on out ^^ oh and i’m sorry if this fic seems disjointed in any way,, i have a lot on my mind these days but regardless i hope you enjoy ~~

pssst: thank you so, so much for 5.5k followers !! it’s honestly insane to me and i still can’t fathom it hehe but the support and love means so very much to me <333

song rec: say - keshi

fictober 2024

You knew better than to hunt at night, but your rumbling stomach begged to differ. The evening air was frigid, sitting heavily inside your lungs each time you regrettably breathed it in, your hefty pelt only doing so much to keep you safe from the powerful winds that continually blew through the vast forest around you. You pulled the hood of your pelt down for a moment, the familiar sounds of wildlife finally making their way to your now exposed ears, though a freezing breeze made its mark on the soft flesh of your rosy cheeks and nose. You bit into your chapped bottom lip, surveying your surroundings for something you’d be able to feast on once you were back inside the safety of your cabin, thanking the gods for the decent visibility you had from the full moon above.

The longer you sat there in silence, your body never growing acclimated to the fierce winter temperatures, you began to fall susceptible to exhaustion, the kind that had sunk its way deep into your bones in the same way your loneliness had for years at a time, feeling so heavy you retired from your once rigid stance and slumped down against the oak tree behind you. A few winks of sleep couldn’t possibly hurt you, not when you were quick to rise and fight if need be, your trusty bow and arrow at your side, as well as a pocket knife always sitting in its holster at your hip. You would be up as soon as you had the strength to open up your eyes and go on.

You eventually woke up to the sound of howling. It had been so distinctly powerful that it was most likely produced by a large wolf, perhaps the leader of a pack. It was then that the culprit of the noise stalked past a few nearby trees and bushes, its dark shaggy coat leaving it virtually impossible to see due to the way it blended in so seamlessly. Leaving abnormally big paw prints behind in the ground below, it slowly paced back and forth in front of you, still quite a distance away from you, but getting closer and closer with each step it made, its large brown eyes piercing right through yours and seemingly gazing upon your soul, deeply fixated on your presence.

It was much larger than any wolf you had seen in your entire lifetime, more akin to a dire wolf, which you had only seen in books, as it had been extinct for hundreds of years before, yet it was…so familiar. Still trapped inside the limbo of the dream you were initially having and your reality, you weren’t completely sure if what was happening before you was actually real. Not only that, but you had the sudden urge to be at the mercy of the wolf, even if it meant that you’d end up with your throat between the beautiful creature’s ragged teeth. However, you weren’t going to roll the dice with death, not when you’ve seen past loved ones get their lives snuffed out by a predator half the size of the one that was suddenly eagerly making its way towards you.

Just before the wolf could reach you, your bow was drawn, the feathered arrow slicing into the cold skin of your cheek as it sailed through the air and lodged itself into the creature’s shoulder, your eyes shut tight all the while. What you expected to hear were the familiar pained whines of a canine but you instead were exposed to the lower pitched groans of a man, causing you to freeze, your eyes opening back up, now widened like marbles. The last thing you were expecting to see was another human, not when you lived alone in the woods for so long, and especially not a man that was stark naked and cowering in pain, with tears in his glistening eyes, looking at you as though you had betrayed him.

You dropped your bow in favor of being at the strange man’s side, surveying his wound, realizing you were so exhausted and hungry, you must’ve simply imagined the wolf. “I-i thought…” you whispered, mostly to yourself, your voice trailing off, almost surprised to hear it after not using it for so long.

“Is that your way of saying hello?” The man hissed in pain when you touched the site of his wound, pushing your hand away from the broken shard of wood that was still lodged inside his bare shoulder.

“I thought you were…going to kill me…” You reached down and tore off a portion of your thick linen blouse, about to wrap it around the man’s wound when you blocked you with his forearm. “I saw a wolf…”

“Do I look like a wolf?” he pouted, reaching over to hold his shoulder in pain.

“I’m sorry, I–…Please, let me help you. I need to apply pressure,” you reasoned, your face contorted with growing regret and concern.

Studying your body language, the man cautiously let go of his arm and allowed you to wrap the torn linen around the wound site, biting into his lip all the while, letting out a few pained grunts. “Hurts…”

“I know, I’m almost done, I promise…” you whispered softly near him, taking a second to share a look with the man, apologizing once again with your softened gaze and upturned brows.

Once you were done, he leaned forward slightly into your personal space to study you, his eyes widened once again, this time with curiosity and admiration, already trusting you despite remnants of your arrow still left inside him.

You bit into your lip, letting out a small breath, which turned into condensation as soon as it left your mouth. “I didn’t think anyone else lived in this forest…Where did you come from?”

Afraid that you would find his true identity to be far too much for you to handle, he thought it would be better to hide it. “Some would call me a nomad…I’m here, there, everywhere, really.”

You nodded at his words, noticing once again that he lacked clothes when you were finally able to pull your attention away from his hypnotizing likeness, never having been drawn to someone like this before. It was then that you averted your eyes with diligence, your once cold cheeks growing warmer the more he stared at you. It took all your strength to return his gaze for just a moment. “Do nomads usually wander around the woods without proper clothing?”

“Well–” The werewolf’s vision went dark for a second, as your pelt was thrown onto him. He pulled it down just enough to continue admiring the human he had been watching from a distance for so long, blowing a few strands of dark shaggy hair out of his sight. “I’m Mingi, by the way. What’s your name?”

“Y-Y/N,” you answered sheepishly, not sure why the strange man was so keenly interested in you, especially after you just shot him with an arrow.

“Y/N,” he repeated lovingly, enjoying the way it sounded, slowly sitting up until little white dots began to dance around his vision. “I don’t feel so good.” When Mingi fell forward into your arms, he couldn’t help but smile. You smelled so pretty, just like he had imagined. Warm like cinnamon, smoky like the fire you always kept burning inside your cabin, sweet like flowers in a garden he would roll around in when no one was around. You smelled like home.

It took most of your strength helping the injured man back to your cabin, immediately laying him down in your bed and pulling your warm blankets up over him. To beat the freezing temperature inside your cabin, you quickly tossed a few pieces of wood in the fireplace and lit it up. You stayed crouched near the controlled flames for a little while to make sure the fire stayed alive, until your company let out a soft groan of pain. Now at his side, you pulled the pelt from his shoulders and frowned at the extent of the damage you caused, tears pricking at your eyes. “You’re still bleeding, Mingi…I’m so sorry…I need to stitch you up.”

Just as you stood up, Mingi reached up to hold onto the corner of your torn blouse, blinking hazily up at you, a few beads of sweat cascading along his straining neck. “Please, don’t worry about me, love. You’re the one who needs rest.”

“Nonsense.” You shook your head, pulling away to find your sewing kit, your cheeks hot to the touch. Once you found it inside one of your drawers, along with a sleep shirt that had belonged to a previous loved one, you returned to Mingi’s side. “Now, stay still, okay?”

“I’ll do whatever you need from me.” Mingi slowly sat up and rested his back against the headboard, watching with interest as you expertly sewed his wound closed, quite fond of the way you took care of him, and of how close you were to him, your hand resting on his chest for stability as you worked. Before you could pull your hand away from his body, he placed his over yours, unintentionally allowing you to feel his rapid heartbeat. “Thank you for this. Anyone else would’ve left me for the wolves.”

Biting into your lip, you couldn’t help but take into account the way his hand completely enveloped yours, truly forgetting just how important physical touch and connection with others was until this very moment, now that his warm skin was pressing into yours. “I-it’s nothing, really…”

“No, it’s not just nothing,” Mingi pouted, slowly bringing your hand up against his cheek to gently nuzzle into it. He couldn’t believe he had gotten this close to you, the special human he had been head over paws for ever since he had seen you for the first time. “It’s everything. You saved me.”

It was almost as if this stranger had escaped one of the novels you read over and over, seeming too good to be true. “It was the least I could do after I hurt you…”

It was when Mingi began to look at you for too long, with that unwavering longing in his eyes, that you cleared your throat and stood up, announcing, “I think I’ll make us some nice, warm soup. How does that sound?”

It took everything in Mingi not to let out a few celebratory howls, instead nodding his head eagerly, his shaggy brown hair bouncing. “I’ve always wanted to try your food. I can smell it from outside sometimes and it always makes my stomach rumble.”

You began to expertly chop up vegetables, stopping mid slice when you digested Mingi’s interesting choice of words. “So you know of me?”

“I-i do,” he nodded shyly, despite your back being turned away from him.

“Have you been watching me, Mingi?” you asked after a few more minutes of silence, your knife now slicing into the last few potatoes you had pulled from your garden before winter began.

“….Admiring you,” he gently corrected, knowing his big fluffy ears would be splayed out in embarrassment if they were there.

Just as you began to pour the cut up vegetables into the pot of boiling broth, you blushed and jolted suddenly from the implications of the handsome stranger’s words. Your elbow knocked into the side of your cleaver, causing it to slip off the edge of the wood counter. Before you could blink, Mingi had already caught the handle of the cleaver, slowly standing up by your side, officially displaying the sheer size difference between the two of you.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, love…” Mingi set the cleaver back down onto the counter, reaching over to touch your hand with a gentleness you hadn’t experienced before.

The speed and quickness of Mingi’s reaction was incomprehensible; you were still reeling from it. Now he stood beside you, his size and stature more akin to a beast in human form than a simple man. Not only that, but the hand that was overlapping yours felt hot to the touch, like Mingi had a furnace burning away inside of him. You had heard stories of shapeshifters that lived in dense forests much like the one you called home. They had been around for centuries, living amongst themselves, never interacting with humans, able to take the form of beasts at will. You glanced out your window, peering up at the bright orb looming over you. It was a full moon, after all — but did myths like that really exist in the real world?

“Mingi…are you…?” Your words began to die inside your mouth as soon as the puzzle pieces began to fall into place inside your mind. You couldn’t deny the connection you felt with Mingi, knowing that your total isolation played a part in your desire to let him in. It clouded your mind. You were growing so tired, you almost didn’t seem to mind if he wasn’t strictly human.

Mingi smiled softly down at you, one of his canine teeth poking out past his plump lips, leaning himself down a bit to shorten the distance between you. He waited eagerly for you to finish your question, tilting his head to the side, having to blow his hair out of the way.

“Are you hungry?” you finally asked, lowering the flame on the stove so that the soup could settle now that it was ready to serve.

Mingi’s lips formed a silent ‘o’, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. He thought you might’ve been on the same page about your mutual attraction, but he was beginning to suspect that his obsession with you was one sided. It’s not like you had imprinted on him; it was the other way around. Silly wolf.

Before Mingi could cry about it, he tasted something so delicious, he couldn’t help but let out an enthusiastic ‘mmm!’. You had slipped a soup spoon into his open mouth, allowing him to try the first homemade meal he’s ever had in his life, one that you had made for the both of you to share together within the sanctity of your cabin, away from the bitter isolation of the forest. He was a silly wolf, after all, because this, this was love.

“Good?” you gauged softly, your eyebrows upturned with sheepish anticipation.

“Good! Ahhh~” Mingi licked his lips and opened up again, savoring the warm, comforting feeling inside his stomach once you fed him another bite. “I’ve never had something this delicious before.”

“Oh, stop,” you blushed, pouring some soup into a bowl and handing it to Mingi, shocked to see him bring it up to his mouth and gulp it down. “Oh, you weren’t lying…were you?”

Mingi’s brown eyes were round, shiny like marbles, filled with unwavering sincerity. “Everything tastes better when you’re with the one you love…”

You almost choked on your own soup, finding it hard to breathe all of a sudden. “D-did I hear that right…?”

Mingi was a romantic at heart. He couldn’t help it, especially when the moon was so big and bright, glowing with everlasting light. She was reminding him to be brave. “Y/N, do you believe in love at first sight?”

Your heart thumped away inside your chest, a steady reminder that you were alive, and not alone for the first time in a long time. “I think I might…Is that crazy?”

Mingi brought his hand up to his face to hide the way it scrunched up with pure joy, his cheeks rosy and full of warmth. “If it is, then I must be too.”

“Where…have you been all this time? I’ve been waiting…for someone like you…” You slowly reached up to pull his hand down, bringing it to your own face, pressing your cold cheek into his large palm. “For someone to keep me warm.”

He had been there all this time; you just hadn’t seen him yet. But now, you would see all of him. Without thinking, Mingi brought his other hand to your face, gently cupping your cheeks and bringing himself down so that he could press his lips onto yours. It took everything in him to pull away just enough to whisper, “I’m here now. Is that…better?”

For the first time, you felt like you could let your guard down, not be the lonely, hardened hunter you had to be. Now that you were safe, you could take a rest. “Better,” you whispered back, wrapping your arms around Mingi’s neck just in time to lay against his chest, losing the strength to stay awake.

You woke up to the sensation of something intensely warm wrapped around you from behind, someone’s lips idly pressed to the nape of your neck, what felt like fluffy ears twitching near your hair, the soft fur tickling your exposed skin. The air around you was hot and heavy like you were stuck inside an oven, an enticing aroma of spiced cinnamon and woody musk clouding your senses. Your eyelids fluttered open, first noticing two strong arms locked around your middle, realizing Mingi was holding you close to him, his heated chest pressing into your back.

Overcome by the memories of earlier, the forgotten intimacy of being touched and held by someone, the intense pheromones you were practically doused in, and the want, the need to be truly seen by Mingi, despite having just met a few hours ago, you attempted to turn around to face him, only to have him tighten his grip just enough to keep you still. “M-mingi, I want to look at you…I’m not mad, I just–”

“Do you know what you’re getting into, love?” he whispered in a gravelly voice into your ear, sounding like he had just woken up out of a deep sleep, sending a rush of goosebumps across your skin with just his words. “I’m not…what you think I am.”

You sheepishly pushed back against Mingi, hearing him let out a soft groan, knowing he was just as satisfied with the way your body felt against his. “I already know, Mingi…I trust you. I’m not scared.” You felt his grip loosen up around your waist, opting to cement his hands around your waist.

His lips were now pressing directly onto the shell of your ear, making you shiver. “Do you know what I am, Y/N? Do you wish to see?”

“I do…”

It was then that Mingi climbed on top of you, his broad naked body keeping the glowing orange light of the fire from reaching you, the pelt you had offered him earlier falling into a pile on the side of the bed. Filled with a sense of lustful wonder, you studied Mingi, your half-closed eyes trailing along his tan skin, noticing how his wound had already healed completely, unable to ignore the arousing addition of his elongated canine teeth and the way his tongue ran across them. “You’re a…werewolf…”

Mingi’s fluffy wolf ears twitched slightly, listening closely to the way your breath hitched. “Most would be scared of me, but you…you like this.”

You swallowed harshly, still finding it very difficult to breathe in the air around you, Mingi’s dominating presence further encouraging you to submit. “Will you eat me?”

Mingi let out a small puff of air through his nose, the corners of his mouth curling up into an amused smile, lowering himself further onto you, knowing his heavy cock was pressing into your heat through your linen trousers. His lips ghosted along your jaw, the bushy end of his tail gliding back and forth along one of your ankles, replicating the light strokes of a paintbrush. “Only in the way that would have you begging for more.” The small moan that escaped your throat didn’t go unnoticed by Mingi. He nosed at your neck, resisting the urge to lick and bite at it. “Though, i won’t do anything without your permission, love.”

You cupped your hands around his heated face, your insides feeling as if they had been set ablaze. “Do with me what you will, Mingi. I insist.”

When Mingi’s lips parted, you pressed yours onto them with a fervor you didn’t realize you possessed. The kiss grew more and more intense, the two of you holding onto one another as though you were afraid it all would end too soon, taking turns licking into each other’s willing mouths, breathing in each other’s air when you grew dizzy.

Growing frustrated with the lack of skin on skin contact, Mingi pushed his large hands up past the hem of your woolen top and slid it off of you, admiring the soft curves of your exposed breasts, before his desperation kicked in and he nuzzled his face against them, sighing onto your skin. “Beautiful…” He dragged his tongue up in between your tits, grabbing one while he sucked desperately on the other, a low growl erupting from his throat.

“Mingi,” you moaned out, your back arching, only encouraging him to see what other pretty noises he could get you to make, gasping when his sharp teeth teased your sensitive nipples.

He licked over them to ease the sudden bout of pain, unable to keep himself from sucking one of them into his mouth, apologizing with his upturned eyebrows and his big, round eyes.

You simply couldn’t take it anymore. You needed him to make a mess of your aching cunt, feeling your wetness stick to the thin linen material of your pants as you kicked them off. “Mingi, more, please, need more…”

The werewolf knew what you needed when your fingers slid into his soft hair, leaving kisses along your bare body as he moved down south, getting himself comfortable between your spread thighs. “You want me to eat you up, yeah?” He spread your pussy open with his thumbs, nosing at it to inhale your flowery scent, quite aware that it bumped into your clit when he gave your slit an experimental lick, just enough to collect your essence on his tongue. “My beloved needs me to ravage her?”

“Yes, plea–oh, my god,” you reacted whinily, your thighs involuntarily pressing into the sides of his head just as he dove in, which he grabbed onto, pushing them up and out of his way, his lips and tongue already working in tandem to drive you to a place of pleasure you’ve never been before.

Mingi devoured your cunt in true animalistic fashion, licking and slurping up your juices as soon as it spilled out of you, just to spit it it back onto your slit and drink it all down, eventually plugging you up with his large tongue to feel you throb, unable to keep himself from fucking you with it until you began to cry out his name in between unintelligible words, your fingers tugging on his hair.

So good, it’s so good, nnnghh, i’m–” You cut yourself off once your impending orgasm took over your body, barely able to register Mingi rubbing soft circles into your shaking thighs and leaving kisses across your inner thigh and on your sensitive clit. You were finally brought back to earth when Mingi’s arousal coated tongue slipped into your mouth, his heated body pressing heavily into yours, gasping into his mouth as soon as Mingi began to desperately rut against you, doing your best to swallow his drool. It was when he whimpered that you broke the desperate kiss, asking softly, “What is it, dear? Tell me what you need.”

“Need you, need to be inside you,” Mingi exhaled against your jaw, letting out a few shaky breaths, unable to keep himself from sinking his claws into your sheets, clearly at his limit. “Can I…? Please?”

“Have your way with me, Mingi,” you granted his wish, welcoming him with open arms, just as he folded you up into a mating press and began to pound himself into you.

Mingi knew that such an intimate position would almost guarantee that you would home his pups after the very first knot. It drove him crazy. He couldn’t help but fuck into you as hard and fast as he could, emitting a animalistic grunt or growl with each thrust he made into your dripping cunt, a few drops of drool escaping past his plump lips and landing on your flushed, sweat-ridden face. “You’re mine now, love. My mate. I’m going to breed you.”

“Y–ours…!” you could barely enunciate, not when he kept punching the air out of your petite body when his oversized one came in contact with yours, his heavy cock continually slipping back into your willing hole with so much ease, it was clear that you were made for him.

“Mine. My pretty little mate, all for me.” It was then that Mingi bit down into your neck, hard enough that he could leave his mark on you, a white hot streak of pleasure shooting through your spine as he did so.

It felt so good, you could’ve swore you were already cumming, dragging your nails down his broad back, your eyes disappearing underneath your fluttering eyelashes. The werewolf didn’t seem to get tired, no matter how many times you came undone, his large hands still tugging on your hips, forcefully guiding you back onto his cock as though you were a simple doll, at least until you felt a new sensation, something stretching you open even further. “Haaah, it’s so big…”

“That’s my knot, love. Will you take it, Y/N?” he panted into your ear, licking and nibbling at it as his husky voice finally penetrated your hazy mind.

“Yes, give it to me, please, Min…”

He hummed against your skin, running his hands along the soft edges of your heated body. “I’ll breed you full…so full of my cum, you’ll be carrying my pups by the next full moon.”

Something about what Mingi said altered the state of your mind on a primal level, your thighs automatically hooking around the werewolf’s waist, your arms around his neck to hold him impossibly close. You wouldn’t be alone anymore. You had a “mate,” like Mingi had lovingly coined the phrase. You would be his, and he was yours, and something so simple made you feel safe.

“Yes, please.”

It wasn’t the heavy knot that stretched you wide and locked you in that brought tears to your eyes, but the sudden, hot, seemingly endless rush of cum that flooded your womb that made you cry. Mingi rubbed gentle circles over the small pouch that joined the prominent bulge his cock made inside your abdomen. “You did so well, love, so good for me,” he cooed at you, giving your cheek a few loving licks. “You were made for me.”

“I was just thinking that,” you sighed softly, running your fingers through his matted, sweaty hair, loving how it felt to have him still stay inside you, keeping all his love from pouring out. It just felt right. Being here with Mingi felt right, like you had always been waiting for him to fall into your life.

“That’s because you’re my other half.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, before resting his against yours. “It was destined.”

“For me to shoot you with an arrow?” you joked, reaching up to gently play with one of his furry ears.

Mingi nuzzled into your touch, wanting to stay with you in that moment, that warm bed, that cozy little cabin that kept you both safe for as long as he could. “I would get shot a million times over, if it meant that I could meet you again.”

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#ateez #ateez smut #ateez mingi #song mingi #mingi smut #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #mingi x reader #ateez x reader #ateez x y/n #kpop smut

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awrkive · 5 months ago

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NEIGHBOR BLUNDER, pt. 1 — JJK

in hindsight, you should have seen it coming. had always known your luck – or lack of it, thereof – and the universe's meticulous plan of your downfall made it easy for you to get tangled up in a series of unfortunate events, which presents itself as the neighbor that lives across from you, jeon jungkook.

PAIRING jungkook x (fem) reader

GENRE r18+ (fluff, angst, (eventual) smut) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

CHAPTER WORD COUNT 18.2k

CHAPTER WARNINGS/MISC neighbor!jk, bsf!jimin, accountant!oc software engineer!jk, jk and jimin are chaebols lol, minjoon boyfriends <<<<3 mature language, this chapter's pretty tame (for now) but theres a lot of FLIRTING, if u squint this story is a mosaic of every shows i love lmfao, for the apartment complex just imagine the namil villa from the kdrama fight for my way NB!JK VISUALS

NOTES hello im back!!!!! remember the jk in tech xmas fic i told you about last year? this is it except its not a xmas fic anymore lmfao. had an idea to make it a full blown story and im just sooo excited to share it with u guys on this platform!!!!! if ur from wattpad, the chapter system is gonna be a little different here but the content is not <3 anyway let me know what u guys think!

READ ON WATTPAD | AO3

PART ONE | TWO

You never settled your relationship with the summer season. To put it simply, it was a love and hate sort of thing; you liked that it was dry, and the air always felt like it was filtered and healthy even though you were well-aware of the current shit-state of the Earth's ozone layer. There were beams and sunlights and street vendors and people lying on the park's ground. Summer felt nostalgic, like the first time you bought a vinyl in highschool and listened to Fleetwood Mac in secret because your mom was certain they peddled cocaine and all sorts of illegal drugs, and with a highschool friend you no longer talk to, not because of a friendship-breaking betrayal but something more melancholic than that like drifting apart as you got older — the ambience, generally, was what you loved the most about it.

But regardless of those, summer got hot. Sure, you could forgo layers of clothing and it was always nice to lounge about in short bottoms and strapless tops and sandals, but at the end of the day, you needed to set your AC on the lowest temp, and it cranks up your monthly rent a greater percentage which causes a detrimental result to your monthly pay. (And you always had to reapply make-up every now and then whenever you went outside because if not, you'd be a sweating mess.)

In the grand scheme of things, though, there was nothing more than you disliked than Park Jimin, your best friend since college, asking you to be his plus-one on his mom's birthday dinner. For the second time.

“I told you, Jimin, I’m not doing that anymore. Your mom called me fat and recommended a bunch of expensive skin care products to treat one single zit on the side of my forehead the last time you brought me there. I hid that with my bangs and she still saw it, like what the hell? The baked lasagna might have tasted good but I’m not stepping one foot in your house ever again.” You spat out, rolling your eyes at your friend who just dramatically flopped himself on your bed.

“Okay, so I’m really sorry about my mom. She’s a…” He trailed off, looking at you with meaningful eyes that weighed words you knew he couldn't exactly say without feeling bad, and you sighed. Nodded in understanding. Jimin’s face contorted into a cringed expression at that. “... yeah. But! Please. I swear! This is the last time. I just really need you to be there. They’re setting me up with Heesu, okay? You know that snotty nepo baby of the Kang clan who owns Kang Tech?”

“Jimin, you’re a nepo baby.”

He hit you with a pillow. “I am but I can earn a hundred thousand won without my family’s money. They can cut my credit cards and I'll still be thriving.”

You broke the serious demeanor and laughed loudly at his seemingly confident claim.

“I’m sorry but you could not even get a job at a burger joint without some nepotism let alone have a hundred thousand without your dad’s credit cards. Bitch, you’re just lying.”

“Fuck you. I was employee of the week at Seventh Street Burger.” He backfired, referring to that point in time in your sophomore year where you picked up a part time job during the summer at a burger joint and Jimin just decided to come along randomly. He got it because the owner knew of his dad.

“Yeah, because Sowon had a crush on you?” You said, remembering the owner’s daughter, who was also helping out at the store at that time. She was so smitten by Jimin you almost felt bad for her.

“Okay, fair, point taken. No need to be such a bitch about it,” Your best friend said with a dismissive wave of his hand, telling he was over it. You only laughed at that, boisterously, might you add, just to piss him off for no reason. Jimin deadpanned. “But seriously. I think they’re planning to marry me off to Heesu.”

Your face fell out of genuine concern this time.

“Oh my god, really?”

Jimin once again cringed visibly. “Yeah. I mean from a business lense it makes sense. But me marrying at 33? That makes me – like – a child groom.”

“Oh… yeah…” you trailed off, sympathizing with him. Not that you've ever been in the situation where your parents forced you in a sham marriage for their own wealth because there was no wealth to begin with. But you felt bad for Jimin. You always have, when it came to this particular subject.

You knew how it was with rich people, having known Jimin for almost half your life. It was true that arranged marriages were still a thing, and while Jimin seemed that he could pretty much do everything he wanted because of his free-spirited nature, his parents could still most likely make him marry someone he barely knew. Solely for business.

“Ugh.” Jimin groaned. “Should I just come out at the dinner so they can stop linking me to women? I’m gay as fuck, man. My cousin Park Youngdam would have a field day given that homophobic fucktard has been calling me the f word ever since he learned it in seventh grade.”

You shook your head, visibly cringing at his words. You didn't have family yourself. It was your mom who raised you alone for all your life, until she died five years ago. Didn't know any extended family. But frankly, you thought it was better that way than to deal with a complicated family like Jimin's.

“Nah. I mean if you’re ready, well, do it. But like, your parents are…” You two shared a look together again, and Jimin just slapped his palms over his face, indicating his doom. Your face twisted with another shot of deeper sympathy for him.

“This is it for me. They’ll marry me off to Kang Heesu and we’ll fly to the US and live in Massachusetts to fulfill her white picket fence fantasy. I’ll be a miserable husband and she'll be an even more miserable wife because she’ll eventually find out I’m gay. The neighbors will start talking and the white republicans will shun me out of the town church. We’ll have a surrogate baby and—”

“Jimin, what the fuck!” You hit him hard on his arm as you couldn't keep a straight face anymore at his dramatic monologue. “You’re not gonna marry Heesu and you won't live in fuckass Massachusetts and no one’s gonna shun you out of the town church and you won't have a surrogate baby.”

“It’s a possibility.” Jimin shrugged.

“I feel like you're guilt-tripping me into agreeing to be your date again at your mom's birthday dinner and I think that's very evil of you.” You said, squinting your eyes at him.

“Well, duh? But also, I’m really kind of lowkey highkey scared they’ll marry me off to someone now that I’m pushing forty.”

"You're quite literally seven years away from forty." You countered.

He looked at you with an expression of I know right! And he told you so.

"That's what I said to mom and dad, but they're acting like my sperm will freeze next year. God, I can't stand them!"

Jimin, for all his jokes and unserious and bitchy behavior, was someone extremely important to you. Yeah, sure, he was rich as hell and he annoys you when he says something that reeks of too much nepotism but he was never intentionally snotty, never thinks he was better than everyone else (Jokes about how he thinks he has the fattest and juiciest ass in the world, though), and he wasn't at all like the rich people you've had the misfortune of interacting with at his mom's birthday party last year. He might be a self-proclaimed bitch but if you put him together with those people, he might as well be one of God's disciples.

For all his crass language and rather strong personality, Jimin was a doting friend who was there for you every single time. You could call him up at 3 am and he’d be at your door bringing Chinese take out and two tubs of ice cream, ready to hear you vent about your stupid job or a guy that you fumbled by being weird and off-putting because you didn't know how to handle a relationship. He was the kind of friend who would defend you in front of anyone else but will mercilessly tell you off and list down all points of your stupidity once you were in closed doors. He was the kind of friend that would ask you to be his pretend partner at a birthday dinner party, but he was your best friend ultimately and even if you had a big problem with his family and their extremely traditional (read: toxic) ways, you didn't want him to be pressured into coming out just so he could avoid to be engaged off to another random heiress. Didn't want him to do something he wasn't ready for. Didn't want him hurt or anything of the sort.

The last dinner wasn't even that bad, if you were to be honest. His parents were shitty, yeah sure, and the other guys in there that consisted of politicians and businessmen and people in the showbiz industry were something taken out of the toilet bowl for how stinky their elitist, better-than-you personalities were, but you both just totally forgot all about it by getting wasted at the local bar right after leaving. Not that his mom’s words didn't sting a bit or didn't make you a little conscious, but at the end of the day, you weren't actually dating Jimin so you didn't care what his parents thought of you.

Additionally, you didn't have something planned for the next two weeks when the birthday would be happening. You were supposed to, but that ship has long sailed when you fumbled a date with the guy at the IT department. For the record, you didn't really like him that much and he talked too much about his job and while you didn't mind that, it was getting a little too tiring. If you wanted IT lessons you would’ve majored in it in college. Still, Shin Taemu was handsome. And he wore those rounded glasses. Was tall. Had nice arms. Too bad he wanted to be the next Mark Zuckerberg. Fuck that guy.

“Ugh, I don't know,” you groaned. “It's just so disgusting to be your girlfriend, okay?”

Jimin audibly gasped. “How dare you? A lot would jump on this ass.” He said with incredulity seeping through his voice, pointing to his bum.

You rolled your eyes. “Not me, obviously. Before you take offense—”

“Offense taken.”

“—it’s just that you're like my cousin and when you call me honey I want to crawl out of my own skin.”

Jimin laughed at that while you looked miserable, remembering those moments from last year. Seriously, how could you have fooled anyone in that party that you were banging? You swore you looked like Ariana Grande and Troye Sivan in that one music video? (Jimin was the one who showed that meme to you, by the way.)

“So I won't call you honey. Just babe.”

“Ew.” You quickly retaliated.

“Ohh, the homophobia is sho-wing.” Jimin sing-sang, ever the mature individual he was.

“Fuck off, seriously.”

Jimin just giggled and then scooted closer to you. “No but like, are you coming? ‘Cause jokes aside, I'm just gonna find someone else if you really don't wanna do it. But you know you're always my first choice.”

“First choice when you do some stupid shit.” you countered, rolling your eyes for the nth time that night. Jimin would be the cause of your eye surgery if ever they got dislocated or something.

“That’s my biggest act of love.”

“I don't want it.”

“I’ll double what I paid you last year.”

“Double it again and give it to the next person?”

Jimin flipped you off. “I’ll give you my nintendo and I’ll get you a card at that coffee shop you love so much.”

That caught your attention. You raised your brow. “On god?”

“When did I ever lie to you?”

You deadpanned. “We won't finish this conversation if I list all the times—”

“Okay, okay, point taken. But I'm really serious. Please, please, please, please be my pretend girlfriend on my mom's birthday party please, please—”

“Shut up. Ugh,” you could already feel the big smile creeping up Jimin’s face when you let out a big sigh. “Okay, I’ll do it. Buy me boba now.”

Jimin tackled you to the bed and hugged you and kissed your forehead.

“Thank you! Best best friend ever.” he delightfully said, grinning widely, eyes almost disappearing in his triumph.

Your face contorted into a disgusted expression while Jimin just laughed as you pushed him so hard he almost fell off the bed.

“You are a disgusting limpy sack of dicks! Also, I’m not your best best friend, you don't have a wide selection. I'm your best friend. Period.”

“Unfortunately.” He waved you off and when you were about to retort something his phone suddenly rang. You watched quietly as he put it over his ear. “Hey, you just landed?”

If it was a private conversation Jimin would've left the room but since he didn't, you decided to stay in bed, kind of listening in to the conversation, but also not, as you turned the volume down of the show you were watching earlier on your laptop.

“Nah, you want me to pick you up?” Jimin sat up on the edge of the bed and you looked at him curiously. “Sure, I’m free, Kook. You have a place to stay? Hotel suite or something?” He nodded to whatever the other person was saying on the other line. “Oh, you're here for three months? Thought you were just flying in for mom's birthday?”

It was moments after they said goodbye that Jimin turned to you to ask, “Well, my cousin’s apparently staying here for three months. Got this job thing going on.”

“Is that one of the non-problematic twenty percent cousin lineage of your very complicated family tree?" You asked, referring to him telling you one time that his family, including the extended ones, was eighty percent shitty and twenty percent decent.

Jimin chuckled at the inside joke. "Well, yeah, he's one of the good ones. Knows I'm gay."

"Oh, nice."

Jimin stood up from your bed. “I’ll get you your boba and head off. Gotta pick cousin up or he’ll start throwing tantrums at the airport.”

“Add extra pearls please.” You told him, watching as he clicked away on his phone to get you your drink.

“I spoil you too much.” Jimin said, clicking his tongue, eyes still on his phone.

“What are you here for if not my glorified sugar daddy?”

“I will kill myself in front of you.” Jimin deadpanned, getting a chuckle out of you.

You didn't know the psychology — or if there even was psychology — behind feeling embarrassed when you were about to cross a path while carrying huge boxes. It was a normal task, and yet, it always felt like a huge walk of shame when you did it.

It was probably because you had to carry it over a flight of stairs, and there was no way you wouldn't trip on yourself carrying two heavy boxes in your hands that were already disrupting your vision.

Maybe it was your fault for choosing the pick-up option when you were checking out these furniture online, all because there was a huge increase on the fee for door-to-door delivery. For the record, there was a huge gap and the boxes were not really that heavy to the point you could not carry them both. It's just a lamp and a portable desk, you thought a week ago when you opted for the pick-up option, I could carry it all the way to the unit just fine — and obviously, your delusion has resulted to this very moment.

As soon as you managed to walk over five steps, you felt as if your oxygen supply just got cut back, panting like someone fresh from a marathon. Damn. You definitely needed to work out a little. Maybe do some squats for your New Year’s resolution, commit to it for three days straight then forget about it for the next 362 days of the year.

You looked ahead of you and a string of curses let themselves out of your mouth automatically as you estimated the number of stairs you needed to get through to get to your apartment.

This day sucked! It was Sunday and you planned to wake up at five am to have a productive day but then you slept through your five alarms and woke up at eleven am instead. You ran out of eggs and you had to go to the convenience store to eat a sad meal of yogurt and kimbap. And now there were these boxes that you needed to carry over what seemed to look like six million of stairs. You weren't Sisyphus! And where were your goddamn neighbors when you needed them?

"You need help, ma'am?"

"Jesus Christ—" you turned to look to your right only to see a man who seemed to own the previous voice.

And Jesus Christ, indeed.

He was wearing a white shirt and some shorts, Nike sliders on his feet and a pair of headphones on. He was wearing glasses. And he had a tattoo sleeve.

What the fuck.

What the fuck!

It has been so long since you thought a man was crazily attractive. Okay, well sure, the guys from the IT department were something else (or you just had a weird eyeglasses fetish, Jimin once pointed out, that you still — to this day — vehemently try to deny) but you’ve never been this taken aback by someone’s face before.

The guy’s lips tilted a bit, some sort of greeting maybe, and you quickly looked away, embarrassed, fearing that he caught you looking at him longer than necessary.

Oh god. This was pathetic! He was a stranger! He was a man! He just had a cute face attached to a very good body with an arm full of tattoos and he was tall but you were sure he wasn’t six feet two. Also, he had hair that looked fluffy from where you stood and a pair of eyeglasses but Jimin was just bluffing when he said you had a fetish for them. Right?

You were performing mental gymnastics until you realized he was asking a question.

"Oh! Uh, no, thank you. It's fine." You said, embarrassed at the way you almost jumped in surprise earlier.

But the whole thing was ridiculous. What, because there was a very fine man across from you the universe suddenly decided to fuck up your fate by making you be seen by that very man struggling with boxes all the way up to your unit? Couldn't it just have been on a day when you did your make-up and dressed up in that overpriced dress you bought hundred bad choices ago?

You fumbled with the boxes a little bit before continuing your way up, nevermind the guy whose response you didn't wait for because you needed to get the fuck away from him before you say something weird and off-putting.

Truthfully, you could use the help. But at what cost? A fine man carrying them? Okay, that wasn’t so bad. But what were you supposed to do with... all of that?

As if the universe was indeed trying to prove to you that you were, in fact, not its favorite creation, you almost tripped. And the guy most definitely saw it.

Fuck.

You turned to the side to see him looking at you, concern etching his face. You wanted to convince yourself that it was genuine concern because you'd commit something that would totally change the trajectory of his life if he was to laugh.

But you thought his own unit must be way up as well, as he was going to the same path as you, and if that was the case, he must have been a new neighbor in the complex because you've never seen the man before.

“Well, it’s not that heavy but…” you trailed off, looking blankly at the cardboard boxes. And then at him. "I could use some help, if you don't mind."

The guy just chuckled. Oh wow, his laugh was very... low.

You didn’t even know what the fuck that meant.

“I’ll get them for you.” He said, crossing the small distance between you and taking over the pile, leaving you with nothing in your hands.

“Oh, no, I’ll have that one. It’s fine.” You said, stepping closer to take the other one but he was already securing it in his hold, with stability this time, ready to take off.

He let out a small laugh again and you bit your tongue to not think about how cute he looked. If he was a new tenant, you hoped you didn't cross paths with him ever again.

"It's okay, ma'am."

He's got to stop calling you that before you do something drastic.

“It’s quite far from here, I'm all the way up to three-three-six.” You uttered, pointing forward, a few steps behind the guy, who hummed at what you said.

You quickly caught up to him. "Really, thanks for doing this."

"No problem, it's nothing." He said, smiling at you. Warm and kind. All cute. "I'm all the way up to four-four-six as well."

Your eyes widened. "No way, that's just across mine."

The stranger, apparently your neighbor now, grinned.

"Nice coincidence, huh?"

A sheepish smile formed on your lips. You didn't dwell on that comment too much. Knew it was just small talk.

"If you don't mind me asking, are you a new tenant here?” You asked out of genuine curiosity. You had never seen someone come out of the unit across from you out of all the four years you'd been here.

He nodded, agreeing with what you presumed.

"Yeah. Just temporary, though.”

“Oh…” A surprised sound. Maybe it was a good thing he was only staying temporarily... “I hope I didn’t inconvenience you or anything. You really don’t need to bring the boxes over to my apartment.”

The man just chuckled, dismissing your worry. “You looked like you could use a hand, these boxes are big. Anyway, I was just out checking 'round town. Settling in.”

From the sound of it, you'd assume he was not only moving in in a new apartment complex, but new city as well. Perhaps country? But he most definitely looked Korean. But maybe he came from abroad. Who knows.

“Yeah, there's a really nice coffee shop three blocks away. You should check it out sometime. Ji—my friend and I are obsessed with their iced caramel macchiato. And the boba.”

His brows furrowed in pure interest. “That must've been the one I passed by this morning. I’ll make sure to try that one.”

“You really should. And the barista gives you a brownie on Sundays if he likes you.” You shared like it was gossip, mentally taking note to visit the cafe sometime this week.

“And I'm sure not everybody gets the privilege?” The guy looked at you funny, and that made you laugh.

"Of course, yes! You have to earn it, I think. I feel like I spent over a million there before he started giving me brownies."

"Hope my charm works on him as well," he said, and it caught you off guard.

What did he mean, "as well"? Like he was speaking from the basis that you had charm and so he hoped he had it as well to get the barista to like him?

"Well. He's strict." Was all you could say, before you spotted your apartment. "Hey, I'll take it over from here."

The guy looked over the plated number on the door, reading three-three-six just as you said earlier. Trudging forward, he set the boxes down on the side of the porch.

"Thank you, really. This was really nice of you."

You extended your gratitude once again as if you didn't spend the walk up to here thanking him non-stop, sounding like a broken record. Thank god the guy didn't seem to mind your over-the-top gratitude, only waving his hand.

"Told you, it's fine. You need help with a few boxes again and just ring me up across," He joked, turning around slightly and looking at the door across your unit, Unit 446. It earned a chuckle from you. His face turned serious now, but there was still a charming smile on his face. “Hey. I’m actually pretty new in this town. I was thinking about visiting a few restaurants downtown, maybe you could recommend me some?”

You didn't mean to, but you took note the way his doe eyes seemed to shimmer even behind the frame of his glasses.

“My favorites are just, like, a ten-minute walk away. There’s this restobar near that drugstore when you turn left from this building, right?” The guy nodded, and you were slightly delighted he knew right away. “Yeah, their ramen's great, you'd thank me forever.”

He chuckled at the way you said it and you smiled.

Your interactions with new people were always a range from pure silence to oversharing; talking to them like they were your long lost friend whom you’ve milked goats with in your father’s orchard. It was probably just a product of introversion; not knowing the right approach to socializing.

“Thanks for the recommendation.” He said, a genuine appreciative tone lacing his words.

“You’re welcome. If I can ring you up to help me with some boxes, you can ring me up for some restaurant recommendation.”

"It's an exchange, then. Deal."

"Why not?" You shrugged, laughing along with him when he did so.

You both stood there for a while until seconds passed. You didn’t know exactly how to end the conversation, not that you wanted to, but there was nothing that went to your head to talk about more. And besides, he was probably headed somewhere, so you began to speak.

“Hey, so I’m going in—”

“What about we—”

“Oh.” You stopped. “Sorry, what was that?”

The guy just shook his head. “Nah, you’re probably busy. Thanks for the recommendation again.”

“No, seriously, sorry I didn't hear it the first time...”

“I was just gonna ask about the name of the restaurant.”

“It’s Midday Miso.” You told him, smiling.

“Midday Miso,” The guy nodded, “Yeah. Got it. Thanks again.”

“You’re welcome, and, uh, thanks. For the help.”

You took your keys out from your shorts and you didn’t expect to still see him standing in front of you when you turned around. You jokingly squinted your eyes at him.

“Yeah, you first, get in.” He said with a low chuckle.

It was a little embarrassing and pretty stupid how your heart fluttered a bit at that.

“What a gentleman you are,” You respond with a snort, opening the door to your unit and pushing the boxes inside your apartment. When they were in, you turned to look at the guy again, saying, “Okay, bye for real. See you around. Hope you like Midday Miso if you try it. And the coffee shop. It's called Brown Coffee.”

“See you around.” He did a little wave that made you both laugh before you closed the door.

When the lock system clicked, you stood on your doorway for a little while.

And then fake-cried.

You quickly clicked on Jimin's pinned contact on your phone.

You [5:35pm]: JIMINNNNNNNNN You [5:35pm]: POP EMERGENCY You [5:35pm]: POP EMERGENCY BITCH IF U DONT RESPOND You [5:36pm]: I HAVE A DIABOLICAL CRUSH AND ITS GOING IN THE MEMOIRRRRRR

It wasn’t even one full minute when Jimin replied.

cuntress #1 [5:37pm]: oh my god SHUT UP!!! im at a training program for ghis stupid ass company my fathers been running fir 600 years cuntress #1 [5:37pm]: whats up cuntress #1 [5:38pm]: its always a crush and never a job 😒

You [5:39pm]: yeh so remember when i told u im oacking up my vagina last summer

cuntress #1 [5:39pm]: many such times

You [5:40pm]: 🖕 You [5:40pm]: SO raincheck!!! You [5:41pm]: COZ I just met a fine man at my apartment AND flirted with him You [5:41pm]: i think

cuntress #1 [5:42pm]: ohhhhh OK???? cuntress #1 [5:43pm]: cuntress #2 flirting???? now thats not uninteresting go on while i fake a restroom break 👀

You [5:45pm]: this story is not for the imessages baby get ur ass up and ICE CREAM WITH ME NOW.

cuntress #1 [5:46pm]: omg 😭😭😭😭 cuntress #1 [5:46pm]: i’ll be off 7:30pm wait for me 😭😭😭 cuntress #1 [5:47pm]: i also have #stories to tell

You [5:49pm]: 🤭

There must be a time where you finally grow up and learn to cook.

You were a twenty-eight-year-old woman and yet, your meals sadly ranged from instant noodles, canned goods, and food from the nearby twenty-four-hour provision shop. Sometimes, you had the gall to cook something from scratch—but with scratch you meant scratching off the labels from food take-outs and reheating them in your microwave.

Jimin had told you one time you would die at twenty-nine with your lifestyle. You told him he couldn't tell you shit because he didn't know how to cook either, he just worked out and ate healthy stuff, and you did, too! But Jimin knew you, and in an evil manner, clocked you with, "Buying fresh produce and not consuming them does not count as healthy living."

Anyway, you never understood why you were so bad at cooking. Your mother, as you remembered her, was decent at it but you guessed it was because she never really taught you and you never really bothered, either. In some immature way of thinking, you'd like to think it was a win for feminism as you were battling patriarchal standards by not conforming to stereotypical "female" qualities. But deep inside, you knew cooking should be a survival skill.

Well, maybe Jimin was right and you would indeed die at the ripe age of twenty-nine. On the bright side, at least you wouldn't have to pay off your student loans and your monthly rent.

In relation, not knowing how to cook meant impractical visits to the restaurant, and that was how you ended up at Midday Miso for dinner after your shift.

It was only a little over seven pm when you entered the restaurant, the ahjumma quickly greeting you and preparing your usual, a sign of familiarity that implied your countless visits ever since moving in at your current apartment building.

Regular visits meant usual sitting spot, and in your case, it was the high stools that faced the glass walls of the restaurant's facade where you could see the busy street making that little area of the town alive.

As minutes overlapped with one another, your food was served and you were hit with the waft of the restaurant's delightful signature beef ramen and bibimbap that the ahjumma made sure to add extra beef on.

Eating with a happy heart made you feel like nothing in the world mattered but you and the food before you, so, you didn't pay attention to the person who was coming to your direction and eventually sat beside you, but what caught you off guard was when said person suddenly said,

"Hi."

When you turned to the side to see who it was, your eyes widened as you said in both recognition and surprise, "Unit 446?"

"That's me." He, Unit 446—in the flesh—said with a low chuckle, twisting himself so that he was sat appropriately on the high stool. Still, his body leaned towards you when he continued to say, "Fancy seeing you here."

You grinned, flattered at the casualness of his approach.

"Same to you. I wonder who told you about this local gem."

He pursed his lips. "A nice neighbor across my place... whom I still don't know the name of."

"Oh, shoot!" You'd face-palm right now if he wasn't looking, but truthfully, you didn't even think about that! You've just been referring to him as the Staircase Guy slash Neighbor 446 in your head and when you told Jimin about him. You laughed at the thought. "That neighbor of yours is __."

Neighbor 446 nodded and extended his hand to you

"I'm Jungkook."

It was a little silly but you shook hands, anyway, and knowing it was, indeed, silly, you both laughed together at your joint connection.

Jungkook. Huh. Not exactly a common Korean name, but it wasn't rare either. The name does ring a bell though, felt like you've heard it somewhere before.

You brushed off the familiarity as inconsequential.

Unlike the completely casual attire he adorned the first time that you met him, he was now in some sleek slacks and a white polo which sleeves were ridden up half high, which exposed the vines of ink on his right arm once again. There's a coat that hung around the back of his chair, and he had forgone the glasses this time around, which was a bit of a shame on the part of your brain that might have a silly crush on him.

Jungkook's clothes seemed to mirror your own business casual ensemble, and that made you think about what he possibly did for a living. Maybe he worked a corporate job just like you, and the prospect might have made you down a little—only because as far as you were concerned, corporate people weren't the most pleasant people you could encounter—but it was not something you dwelled on too much because you couldn't care less. If Jungkook was corporate, he sure didn't seem to be one the way he was.

Besides, you wouldn't be the one to bring up the depressing and aggravating conversation about gross grown-up things like... jobs... Eurgh. You both could just talk about the weather or how insane the ahjumma's ramen tasted for eternity.

"Well, hello, Jungkook." You greeted him. All warm and soft, testing the syllables of his name on your tongue. Rolled off well enough. He had a nice name that sure fit his face for some reason.

"Hi, __." He mirrored the soft smile on your lips, and just as he said it, the ahjumma was heading towards your direction to give him his order.

In that usual way grandmas reacted, the ahjumma gasped audibly—and dramatically, might you add—upon seeing Jungkook, but what she said next made you want to dig a hole under your seat.

"__-dear! Is this young man your boyfriend?"

Good thing you weren't consuming anything as of that moment, because it would've entered the wrong track.

"Ahjumma!" You laughed, totally not authentic at all because your face didn't match it, looking at Jungkook who just sent a shy smile her way.

Ahjumma must have seen you both talking to each other and had completely jumped to a conclusion. An insane one at that!

Shaking your head, you clarified, "This is Jungkook. A friend. He's new in town and checking out all the stuff around here. I recommended him this place."

You saw Jungkook nodding along with your words while he helped her set his table.

The ahjumma just shook her head. "I apologize, then," She looked at Jungkook and as if gossiping with him, whispered in a not very subtle way, "I keep on telling this girl to date already! Such young beauty shouldn't be wasted, you know."

A tsk-ing sound made its way through her mouth, and as much as you were starting to feel embarrassed that she was telling on you on Jungkook—who was literally a stranger to you a day ago and whom you may have a teeny tiny bit of crush on—you knew ahjumma did not have any malicious intent and just chose to laugh the whole thing off.

You heard Jungkook do the same.

This was ridiculous.

"Ahjumma, I told you, you're gonna be the first one to know when I date. For now I'm just a part-time accountant and a full-time promoter of Midday Miso." You pout at her, trying to dodge the topic of romance altogether.

Not in front of Jungkook.

"Ayee," She gave you a side-eye. "Fine. I'll bring over some extra beef."

You mouthed an enthusiastic "yes!" and raised your fist in the air with excitement, and Jungkook looked at the interaction with a smile on his face.

As the ahjumma walked away, you looked over at him.

"I'm glad you came by—" You identified his order to be the same one you used to be obsessed with the first few months you came to the restaurant. "—and ordered their best seller. You sure know how to be a tourist."

"Looked good on the menu. The ahjumma also seems to be nice. Seems like she's a close friend, huh?" Jungkook said.

"Totally."

And it was the truth. There was just something about ahjumma that made you feel reminiscent about the grandmother you've never had. Ever since you moved in and became a regular at this place, it felt like she's taken care of you and your relationship had been special since.

"This is really good." Jungkook commented after having his second bite, and you nodded in agreement. "She was serious about the beef thing?"

You chuckled at the mention. "Yeah, she always gives me extra."

"You just always get free stuff around these areas?" Jungkook joked which earned a hearty laugh from you. You remembered telling him about the free brownie on Sundays at Brown Coffee, a little bit surprised he recalled that.

"Now that you said that, I actually do." You proudly shared. You've been in this town for so long that the various faces just went from familiar to friends.

Jungkook nodded, his face showing amusement.

"I have to learn your ways, then."

"The secret to that is be incompetent at cooking. It means it's either take-out or eat out. Business owners around here have no choice but to see me every three days because I can't cook my own meal."

You could see Jungkook's amusement growing every second, and to add faux insult to injury, he joked, "Oh, bummer."

You decided to ride along with that.

"You mean you're a good cook? That's the real bummer! And here I thought we were bonding." You said, purposefully trying to sound scandalous at his implication of being a good cook.

He shook his head instantly, chuckling. "Okay, nah. I'm not that good. Just decent. But I'll have you know I can make a mean tangsuyuk. Any other complicated stuff is out the window, so there, we are bonding."

"I appreciate that you're under the assumption that I know where to begin with the non-complicated stuff. You're already putting way too much faith in me."

"I seriously doubt that." Jungkook laughed once again.

"You know what my friend tells me? That I'd die at twenty-nine because I don't know how to cook."

Jungkook almost keeled over hearing you say the words, and as much as you were amused at his own amusement, you decided to further add on the joke because you were enjoying this way too much.

"Wow. I wouldn't doubt you'd be an accessory to my murder the way you're laughing way too hard at my impending death. That's next year, you know."

Jungkook reached over for the glass of water and drank it. While he did so, the ahjumma had come over to give you the beef she promised. You did not forgot to thank her as soon as she went away.

You did hope Jungkook didn't notice the malicious wink she sent your way.

"Fuck, sorry." Jungkook's laughter had gone down this time, but his eyes still showed a hint of mirth when he asked, "You're twenty-eight, then?"

You nodded. "Yep." Unfortunately, you thought.

"Oh, that's actually surprising."

A gasp left your mouth. Jungkook was quick to correct himself.

"I meant it's surprising because I thought you were way younger."

Oh.

"Don't flatter me. I won't share my extra beef with you."

"I thought—" He shrugged. "—Early twenties."

"I'm guessing you are in your early twenties." You joked back.

"Okay, now, don't flatter me. I know how old I look." Jungkook said with a dismissive tone, but nevertheless light-hearted. Just like how this whole thing was going.

God, you were so in awe of how good he was at talking to you that he was practically bringing out the extrovert in you you only ever show to exclusive people like Jimin.

"So, you're like, fifty, then?"

Incredulous, Jungkook burst into laughter. "Wow."

"Sorry, just that you sounded like you were five years from retirement! Anyway, you look like we're the same age?"

He shook his head. "Three years older. Turning thirty-one later this year."

Jaw dropped. Not physically, but mentally.

"Oh wow, you're basically—" a fucking DILF! What the hell!

Thankfully you managed to cut yourself off before Jungkook could think you were way off your rocks and embarrass yourself in front of him for eternity. You could just hear Jimin from miles away telling you off about calling thirty-year-old men DILFs even though you didn't know if they had a child.

What do you mean this guy was thirty and why did that just make him even hotter in your head... He's got to stop this madness before you do something completely incomprehensible.

"—A senior." Was the lame thing you came up with to finish your sentence.

"Ouch." Jungkook said, but his word was completely opposite to the expression he was wearing on his face the way he just couldn't suppress the grin that had been visible on his mouth since you started talking.

You brought your hands up.

"Totally didn't mean that in a negative way."

Which was the entire truth. So far, the things you knew about him was that he had tattoos, a nice body, a nice personality, good ass freaking conversationalist, and that he was thirty! Thirty! As in, the peak of male hotness. The evil psychological concept of most men only getting hotter as they age.

"I'm sure, I'm sure," Jungkok nodded. "By the way, are you heading out after this?"

"Oh, yeah. Don't have anywhere else to go. I have a nine A.M tomorrow so..." you shrugged, and he nodded in understanding.

"You work as an accountant, right, from what you told the ahjumma?" Jungkook asked you curiously.

"Yeah... it's a very tedious job." You grimaced a little bit. "What about you?"

He tilted his head a bit, picking up a dumpling on his plate. "I'm a software engineer."

"Oh, that's cool."

You nodded to yourself while you processed what he said.

Works in fucking tech; another thing you just learned about him.

You weren't actively seeking out guys in tech, but why did they seem to come to you voluntarily? God forbid you saw someone who wasn't in there! Was every man working in tech now? Was Jimin really only being truthful when he said they were exactly your type?

"Have you made any software or is that, like, a wrong assumption about you guys?"

Jungkook merely chuckled at your retort.

"Not entirely, no. I've designed a few software in college—I'm still doing it. I'm just currently doing more business stuff now." He gave you a sheepish smile. "You?"

"Well, it's just... you know—I actually work at a tech company. I'm a junior accountant. And, uh, nothing interesting, really. You get to do cool math like programming, and I get to do boring math like calculating money I don't have. It's always a great day at work." You said, couldn't help the laugh that skipped your mouth at your own sarcasm.

Nothing like joking about hating your job to someone who you just met yesterday.

"Programming and coding are not all that, either. It's tedious and... it's just a really boring job. But... it all pays the bills."

You chuckled.

"Yeah. Totally."

Without minding it, you raised the small glass of soju, initiating a toast, one that Jungkook understood immediately and met you in the middle of it.

The night was still you when you walked out of Midday Miso, but unlike any other nights, it was with Jungkook this time walking beside you.

"So you just—what—hid him for three months?"

"Well, yes! I wasn't about to get a notice for that! And besides, he was really cute. But he's in good hands now, his owner still sends me pictures of him. He's very grown and big."

"That's insane."

You peered at Jungkook who watched you in awe as you told him about the story of Alfredo, the cat whom you rescued on your way home from work a year ago. The landlady obviously had her fair share of rules and regulations in her building, and keeping pets was an absolute no, which was a shame. Definitely wasn't a shame when you first just moved in the complex, but things got lonely sometimes when you were living alone and company was almost a luxury.

Anyway, as told, you managed to keep Alfredo out of the landlady's sight until you found a highly qualified parent on some online forum who you still kept in contact with to this day.

But as you watched Jungkook, you noticed the way his expression fell into something concerning. He looked worried, which made you feel the same way as a result.

"What are you thinking?" You asked him curiously.

"Oh, nah, I was just... thinking. See, I actually have a dog."

"Oh!" You looked at him wide-eyed.

He has a dog; another thing about Jungkook that would qualify him on the regular rounds of hot boy of the month on Twitter dot com.

"Yeah."

"You didn't read the terms and conditions of the building?" Your eyebrows formed a concerned expression.

Jungkook chuckled and shook his head. "I did. I just—suddenly thought about him, is all. He's being taken care of some place. But, you know, I missed him, and I was thinking about getting him here and showing him around my new place and all that."

"Oh... that's a bummer, then. The landlady's strict, even with the small dogs, can you imagine? Is he small, by the way, your dog?

"He's a Doberman, so definitely a big one."

"He must be really cute. What's his name?"

"Bam." He smiled at you, and you could totally see the pride showing on his face at the mention of his dog. And with a tone that you could only identify as someone who's suppressing his enthusiasm a little bit, he added, "You wanna see a picture of him?"

"Sure!"

Jungkook took out his phone from his pocket and showed you images of a big, chocolate brown dog. Bam definitely wasn't like the other regular Dobermans you'd see around. His ears weren't cropped, and his tail wasn't docked either. You didn't know if the lack of surgery was intentional from his side, but you'd like to think he kept it that way because he knew it hurt the dog greatly. From how you've been knowing him, you were certain he just didn't want to put his dog under unnecessary pain, which was honestly heartwarming to think about.

Jungkook was becoming way too good to be true in you head little by little.

"Awe, he's adorable!" You cooed, especially when he swiped through the picture of his pet, Bam, as a pup in what seemed to be Jungkook's arms based on the familiar tattoos that peeked from the exposed arm as seen on the picture. The tattoos also seemed to be new at that time as well, considering that the skin was still yet to be fully covered like now.

"I'm flattered you think that."

"Where is he, by the way? If you don't mind me asking."

"He's at a... friend's place in New York. He's not very good at flying so I didn't bring him with me here, and I thought, I'll only be here for three months, anyway, so." Jungkook shrugged.

Three months. Well. He did say he was only staying here temporarily.

You nodded. "For business, right?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"You grew up there?" You kicked the stone that was caught at the tip of your shoe, putting your fists in the deeper part of your coat's pockets. Summer may be hot during daytime, but it sure as hell was cold on nights like these.

"Nah, I'm from Busan. Flew to California for college and have been there since. Until now, that is."

Jimin was also from Busan, you thought. Though he said they only lived there for a few years until his parents moved to Seoul, but he made sure to visit his hometown every now and then. Most of the time, he made you come with him which you never had complaints about. You lived in the city all your life so going there, especially in the more urbanized area where you and Jimin stayed. Felt like fresh air—which Busan had, quite literally.

"My best friend's from Busan too."

"Really? What about you?"

You chuckled before answering, "I, unfortunately, did not come from any interesting place. Born and raised in Seoul, through and through. Though my mom told me she lived in Daegu for many years prior to having me."

"Seoul is an interesting place, though."

"Eh. It's okay." You shrugged, and your nonchalance made you both laugh.

The walk to your apartment building from Midday Miso was not that far. Still, it was five blocks away and while you and Jungkook were currently sharing conversation together and seemingly walking the same path, you weren't sure if you were both walking together there.

As if he read your mind, he suddenly spoke after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

"You mind if we walk together to the building?"

You decided to joke to get the jittery feeling out of your system.

"Scared of the dark, Jungkook?"

"Sure... my five-eleven self is."

You squinted your eyes at him. He did not just go there!

"Is that a slight against my height because I'm five-seven, mind you."

Jungkook stopped in his tracks which made you do the same, and you watched as he put his hand on his waist while the other reach up to his face to place a finger over his chin, seemingly assessing you up and down. You looked at him incredulously.

"You're bumping your height to two inches." He seriously said.

You gasped audibly.

"Oh, shut up,"

You rolled your eyes and turned your back at him, continuing your walk as you heard him behind you bursting in laughter at your reaction.

"I'm kidding!"

You first met Jimin at a college party. He was five years older than you, supposedly out of college by the time you attended, but he always had a problem with rebellion–what with his ragged relationship with his parents, he would intentionally flunk his courses as a message to them that he'd always be a black sheep and a proud one at that, hoping it would be enough to convey that they could not force him to be the heir of their company. (Obviously, it had taken him nowhere, given that he was now currently attending a training program to work at said company).

But maybe it was a blessing in disguise that he was set back to five years for graduation. Because you got to know him, and he got to know you.

On the outside, you might look like the total opposite of each other–because Jimin was the definition of extroversion who wasn't afraid to put himself out there–while you, admittedly, were more reserved and usually shied away from any public attention.

As much as you were welcoming to a lot of people, you didn't have a lot of close friends growing up–at least not the kind of friends you'd see on TV shows–but when Jimin came to your life, you clicked so instantly you could not even figure out where you two exactly began.

The instant way you two clicked, you realized, was like your relationship with Jungkook nowadays.

Ever since that night at Midday Miso, you've been seeing a lot of each other. Granted that it was only in the same place, same time. You'd usually arrive past seven and he, a few minutes later. Jungkook, cladded in his slacks and long-sleeved polo, was becoming a usual sight after a shift, and your business casual clothes was turning as one for him as well.

Your usual seating spot became his as nights passed, and ahjumma, thank God, no longer asked you if he was your boyfriend. You were glad that she was slowly getting acquainted with him though, greeting him with a friendlier smile and tone reserved only for customers like you when he entered the restaurant, and Jungkook seemed to welcome the newfound friendship wholeheartedly.

On the consecutive nights you'd spent with him, it was almost as if you lived quite the same life. Though, you didn't know when he went to work. In fact, you didn't see him during the mornings even though in theory, it could be easy, granted that you both lived across each other. But strangely enough, you'd never caught him retiring to his flat to go to the bus station. You assumed he started earlier than you or way later.

You never asked, it never came up either.

Still, there was some sort of tranquility in the thought that you could spend some time with someone after your shift and just talk about whatever–and whatever meant a lot of things. Random at best. You once told him about the first raccoon you met in your life, and he told you all about the lioness he got to watch when he went to a South Saharan trip a few years ago.

Sometimes, the conversation went around what happened in the office that day. Jungkook noticed the little blot of ink on the cuff of your baby blue long sleeves, and you told him about the jammed printer in the accounting department. He'd told you later on about how he almost fucked up a report, said he was nervous because he was taking on a new role in the office.

Those moments were shared in long walks from Midday Miso to your apartment building, because naturally, you both established a small tradition of walking home together after a night of eating your hearts out at ahjumma's restaurant.

It was a rather sweet gesture, if you were honest to yourself. But you chose not to linger too much on the romantic thoughts that floated in your head, especially when you'd notice the way he made sure to walk on the outer side of the sidewalk, and when your fingers got too close the tips almost touched.

Because Jungkook, for how objectively good looking he was, was more than just his pretty face and physique.

He was kind and funny and genuine unlike any other straight men you've met in your life. Maybe the bar was low, but for all the times you've gotten to talk to him, he never showed any signs of ego most men would by the second hour of your meeting.

In the dating scene as an adult, a lot of men would come up to a date talking about how high they were placed at their company's hierarchy and how much they made in a month, and when they hear about yours, they'd always have a backhanded comment about how "you could only go up from there, right?" and those moments were always a bummer. Yawn-inducing, to be more accurate. Men and their predictability was boring and it was the reason why you'd declare to Jimin almost every time you got home from a date that you were retired from looking for them because most men just plainly fucking sucked.

But with Jungkook... was it different.

You found he didn't talk a lot, and one time you asked him if you were doing it–the talking–way too much, but he just chuckled and told you that he didn't mind.

Later on, you learned that he was just more of a listener rather than a talker, and that was not only a pure assumption of yours because he did listen attentively, alright. As for all the random things you've told him about, you never expected him to recall a single thing, not until one time when you passed by a food truck.

"Hey, didn't you say you like sundae?" Jungkook asked, and when you followed where his eyes were, it was at the food truck parked just a few steps ahead from where you both were.

"I do... wow. It's been so long since I saw a food truck around here." You said, following his steps towards the vehicle.

They had tables to dine in, and even if you were still full from eating at Midday Miso that night, the sundae was just too gratifying to decline. Jungkook was the same with the tteokbokki on his small plate, telling you he missed eating at one of these things, as they didn't exactly have anything like this abroad.

After he paid for the food (and of course not without a long, silly, light-hearted argument about it), he came back with two sticks of Melona ice pops which you looked at with widened eyes, animated expression written all over your face especially when he thrusted the purple yam flavor to you.

"Oh my god, how do they have these?"

"I was surprised as well... this is the first time in a while I'm eating this again." Jungkook said and then gestured to the ice pop in your hand, "You like the purple yam, right?"

"Yeah!"

You were about to ask him how he knew, but then you briefly remembered that one time you had a passionate rant about people hating on purple yam ice cream and why they weren't right.

And as you looked at Jungkook, he seemed to remember it all too well.

Jungkook showed genuine interest in the things you'd tell him about. He'd visit the cafes and restaurants you recommended to him as much as he could, and because you've come to exchange numbers with him eventually after almost two weeks of casually hanging out, they sometimes came during lunch break.

1 message received from Jungkook (Unit 446)

That day, you only exchanged contacts the other night, so seeing him on your phone so quickly like that caught you by surprise. It was welcomed though.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:36pm]: I went to Cafe Heaven for lunch and loved their ice americano

As soon as you read the first message, another one came.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:36pm]: This is Jungkook by the way :)

You laughed at his introduction. As if he didn't see you type his name on your phone last night–like he didn't jokingly complain about you putting the (Unit 446) in there but giving in eventually and also adding (Unit 336) to yours in his own contacts.

You [12:38pm]: Hi Jungkook! You [12:38pm]: im glad u went!!! u should also try their fettuccine alfredo

Seconds later, he sent a picture of the dish you just mentioned which put a smile on your face.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:39pm]: i'll get my refund from you if this doesnt taste good

You [12:40pm]: 1 week of friendship and ur already ripping me off 🤐

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:40pm]: 😁 Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:40pm]: first bite Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:41pm]: second bite

What was he on, you didn't know. But you were glad that he was slowly coming around, his jokes getting more... how would you say it... less polite? He just stopped apologizing after he said them! He usually would in the first few days, but now in your newfound closeness, it was like you were out of that stage where you tiptoed around each other still, feeling the other one out, trying to figure them out, all that stuff.

Nowadays, it was just more natural. Smooth-sailing. Paradoxical, almost, because of how the relationship felt more defined as well as loose.

You found you liked it that way.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:42pm]: I like it 👍🏻

And to your surprise, he sent you a picture of him, indeed, holding a thumbs up.

You'd like to think you were an expert on going along with the tide because even though you would be classified as introvert by most, you did pretty well in forming relationships with people–granted, most of them were fleeting, at best, hence the lack of bigger circles in most of your life–but you were great with making friends, regardless.

And maybe it was how you ended up with this whole thing with Jungkook. Because you were friendly and open, although you wouldn't dare to take all credits because as you mentioned before, he was a great conversationalist.

He didn't talk much as you said, but he didn't ever make you feel like you were talking way too much because he made sure that you knew he was listening, and when he talked, it was always engaging; conversations with him transitioned to different subjects in perfect seugue you would never noticed how you jumped from Melona ice pops to the existential dread you fought every morning before going to work.

When it came to humor, Jungkook's was different from Jimin's, of course, and your dynamic with your best friend could never be replicated with somebody else but Jungkook was close to truly becoming your friend, and for that, it was getting easier to ignore his handsome face.

You may have had an embarrassing moment of panicking mentally at seeing such a man in the first meeting, but nowadays, you could hold a conversation with him without thinking how hot he was.

Dare you say, you were starting to think more platonically about him rather than romantically. As you said, you were an expert on going along with the tide.

Or maybe that was too soon a declaration, because there were moments, like now, when you were certain juvenile flirting insisted on happening between you, steering you clear from completely feeling wholly platonic about Jungkook.

"I certainly have a bigger hand than you."

As if you didn't know that, Jungkook brought his hand up to show you it. Confused but not totally minding the whole thing, you proceeded to extend your own hand towards his, pressing them both together. Predictably, his hand could have engulfed the entirety of your own.

Jungkook laughed at the sight, and you didn't know exactly who broke the physical contact first but you were glad it was over as soon as it started.

But you couldn't have forgotten the electric zap along your spine when your hand got so close like that to his. Couldn't have ignored the hot feeling in your cheeks when you were made aware of what you just did.

Wow.

Were you guys flirting? Was he flirting? It was flirting, right? Juvenile, at best, because this was what kids did in high school! And Jungkook's hand was so...

You never imagined what it felt like–never even crossed your mind until now. Expectations about how his hand felt never formed in your head because you sure as hell never thought about that kind of thing happening in the first place, but Jungkook's hand was the right balance of soft and hard. Calloused in a way most men's hands naturally were, and soft like enough comfort when held and touched.

It wasn't clammy, thank god, but you also wouldn't have thought he had clammy hands, solely because he just looked like he didn't. But god, was it big.

And my goodness, did it make you feel things.

You drank your water fast and cleared your throat, subtly, so that he didn't think too much of it.

"O-okay, but that's just genetics. Doesn't mean you could throw stronger punches."

You said in retaliation to one of your useless debates which now covered the coin-operated boxing arcade machine across the bus station nearby.

Jungkook leaned back against the monobloc chair that was definitely way too flimsy for him.

You were currently hanging out at the dining area of the food truck you came across a few days ago, forgoing Midday Miso for the night. Lately, Jungkook and you have been exploring a few more places other than there. You've tried other restaurants nearby, but ultimately, Midday Miso was still the top favorite and the food truck was becoming a staple in lieu of its convenience and just the overall vibe of eating outside and feeling the breeze of summer night air.

"You got me curious about the boxing machine." Jungkook said, crossing his arms.

"I held the highest score there for like a week, you know? Only did it though to impress the kids who liked to watch."

At that, Jungkook's face lit up in interest.

"We should do that sometime."

"Oh... I see, I see. You wanna impress the kids, too?" You playfully accused, squinting your eyes at him.

He chuckled and waved you off.

"It can be a challenge." Jungkook shrugged and looked at you with a hint of mirth in his eyes.

You let out a puff of breath, amused at his obvious antics.

"What's the catch?"

"Well... free boba delivered to your door for a week if you get the higher score. How's that sound?" He looked at you expectantly.

You chuckled before saying, "I'm gonna rip you off so bad, Jungkook."

"Only if you win, though." He said with a mischievous smirk.

"Oh, wow. When, you mean. When I win. So what's in it for you?" You leaned your elbow on the table and studied his face.

He looked at you for a while, then, the smirk from earlier was wiped off and exchanged with a much gentler smile.

"Home-cooked dinner at my place next week Friday."

Your eyebrows met.

"You want me to cook you something? Jungkook, do you have a death wish? I may either give you unintentional food poisoning or burn your house down, there's no in between."

"No," Jungkook laughed at your insane conclusion. "Sorry, I should've specified. I mean if you lose, I'll be cooking us a meal at my place."

"Oh."

You were left staring at him, a bit dumbfounded.

He just said he wanted to cook you guys a meal. At his place.

He was inviting you to his place. His personal space.

"It won't be better than Midday Miso but I think I can keep up." Jungkook added with a sheepish smile and scratched the back of his head in that seemingly boyish manner.

"Sure..." you responded, a bit delayed, much to your effort of not showing your big surprise at his offer. Before he noticed the way you were not believing what you heard, you chose to quip in a (hopefully) cheeky, "That is if you win, though."

Jungkook only hummed and then nodded.

"If I win."

He said, smiling at you.

This was dangerous.

The whole thing was teetering to something that was not very platonic, and just as you were starting to think this whole thing was!

Jimin always told you that you were bad at flirting, but in your defense, how were you supposed to know, exactly, if someone was flirting with you? A lot of people were friendly like that! Jungkook was maybe like that? Had you shown interest and he noticed so now he was playing into it? But that would be uncharacteristic of him. You didn't think he'd be the type to do something cruel like that...

But the tide was always rising and falling, they said, and the good thing was; you knew how to go along with the current.

So you did what you do best.

"Would you like to donate to the poor?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but there's a chance this card's gonna decline because I am the poor."

The cashier looked you in the eye with an even more impassive look than the one she had before you got your turn on the counter.

"Could've just said no." She said, punching your order away and you had to shamefully swipe your card and leave to go over where Jimin was.

"The cashier just snubbed me for being poor." You complained to Jimin, moving your coat to the next seat and settling in in yours.

Jimin took a sip from his latte and looked at you dead in the eye and said, "I'll call the manager if you want."

"Fuck off." You retaliated immediately. Jimin snorted at your way too predictable response.

See, this has happened way too many times more than what your fingers could count. You could not even pinpoint the exact time when Jimin started to joke about going full-on Karen-mode when you complained about a single little thing at the places you went to.

Anyway, you were currently on a lunch break when Jimin texted to see if you were free. What better way to spend your lunch than with your best friend? The company's canteen food was getting tired and they hiked up their prices. Your office's kitchen also ran out of Solhee's – your coworker – biscuits and so you thought you had to make do of Jimin's money for that day. You told him your motives yourself and as a petty retort, he told you to pay for your own pasta — at a café that was way too expensive for its own good.

You stole a bite off his churros, and predictably, he rolled his eyes at you.

"Why'd you want to see me, by the way? What's up? You don't have training?" you glanced at your wristwatch, reading 12:40pm.

Soon, you were casually taking over his plate of churros. For how ridiculously priced it was, it sure tasted good as hell.

"I got the day off." Jimin shrugged.

You eyed him suspiciously almost immediately.

"Did you really...?"

It was a few seconds before Jimin gave in and took back his plate.

"Okay, no, I ditched the training today but for the record it's for a very important reason."

You put your hand over your chest and contorted your face in an awed, touched expression.

"The important reason being... meeting me?"

"Ew, no," Was Jimin's quick, disgusted, response – which earned a laugh from you as usual.

From your peripheral vision, you saw the waiter heading towards your direction and so you waited for him to come over and serve you your pasta and frappe. After thanking him, you huddled closer to your best friend and asked, "Okay, what is it then?"

Jimi pursed his lips, making your eyebrows meet.

"It's kinda... bummer news."

"You're pregnant?"

"No, you'd be way too happy and I can't be a single dad," He shook his head as if not even wanting to imagine that.

"Namjoon looks like he's gonna take care of it with you." You sing-sang, sipping on your coffee and winking at him indiscreetly – emphasis on indiscreetly because you never knew how to wink properly.

What you did not expect, was the look on Jimin's face when you mentioned Namjoon.

"Well..." He trailed off, and you waited for it curiously; anticipating his impending answer in return because your conversation was always quick-witted like that. But right now, Jimin's expression was devoid of any jokes.

Not something you expected when you just mentioned his boyfriend.

"I— did something happen?" You quickly dropped the teasing tone and exchanged it with a concerned one, eyes looking at him with worry.

Jimin closed his eyes for a while and let out a deep breath. "See, that's the bummer news."

"Do you want to tell me? Or we can just—"

He cut you off before you could even finish your sentence. But he did it with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes – and this was Jimin. His eyes did not not reach his eyes when he smiled!

"He's going to Italy."

"Oh."

When the pause prolonged for over a minute, with you looking at him mouth agape, Jimin let out a heavy sigh once again and shook his head.

"I know. It's work... and I always understood that. He travels a lot and we're both okay with it. But it was usually just around the country, not another continent. I mean, what did he mean Italy? And that's not even the worst part. He knew a month ago he was going but he only told me two days ago and he's leaving Thursday," Jimin looked at you to take a pause, seemingly trying to look for a reaction.

You thought, that's tomorrow.

As if he read your mind, he nodded, sounding almost defeated.

"I know."

"Oh, Jimin..." You said, not exactly knowing what to say.

Jimin and Namjoon had been together for over a year. At least, officially, because they spent the last three years just casually hooking up on and off. You liked them together and had been more than glad when they finally put a label to it – exactly why you knew Namjoon enough to not badmouth him when you usually would men Jimin usually dated. You knew perfectly well that Namjoon genuinely cared about your best friend and he loved him. So if Jimin was at a loss for this obvious mistake on his boyfriend's part, even more so you were.

"He's been blowing up my phone ever since." Jimin added, glancing at his phone on the table. "Intentionally didn't charge my phone today so I don't receive his calls and texts."

That prompted you to remember the message you received from Namjoon last night.

"Oh, that's why he texted me yesterday. He asked about you, and I told you through text but you didn't answer." Things were starting to make sense now, and as you observed Jimin's face, they were getting clearer. "You never talked since?"

Jimin pursed his lips. He took his coffee back to his mouth and sipped while looking away. "Nope."

"Jimin." You tilted your head.

He looked at you again, and you knew exactly that he was thinking the same thing as you: It was within his right to feel off about what Namjoon did, but regardless; Jimin was being a little petty, and he needed to communicate with his boyfriend instead of giving him the cold shoulder.

There was a pout that formed on Jimin's lips right after.

"I know. I just..."

"He could've told you sooner?" He nodded at your words. You mirrored that. "He should have. Italy is not Busan – it's not just a train ride away."

Jimin sighed, looking exasperated now. "I told him that exactly. I'm not even mad he's going to Italy, I just think I deserve to know right after he was told about it."

You nodded. "You should really talk. It sounds like he wants to apologize, anyway, given that he's now trying to talk to me to get through you."

"Sorry you got caught up in this. I'm gonna talk to him about it."

"Eh, it's fine. Joon and I are also friends, you know?" You shrugged, genuinely not minding Namjoon coming to you.

You liked Namjoon and thought that he was the perfect match for Jimin. They were cute together and just seemed to... take the best out of each other. You'd go to any lengths to keep them together, as long as Jimin wanted Namjoon and as his boyfriend. You've seen Jimin go from relationships to relationships, some just fleeting and simple dalliances, and most destructive and were just... not good for him. You've never seen your best friend truly happy and committed in a romantic relationship other than with Namjoon, and as someone who cared about him, you'd do a lot of things to make him happy.

"Here's another thing, his flight is tomorrow at 11:30pm in the evening. Mom's birthday dinner is at 10." Jimin usually had his composure everytime, and it was very rarely you'd see him show any worry because he liked everybody to think he was in control of every situation. You smiled. Classic Jimin. He'd only ever show his true nature to you though, and that was exactly why he looked at you with worried eyes and continued to say, "I really wanna be there to send him off."

The call time for his mother's party was at 10 and naturally people would start swarming in way past that time. If Jimin were to sneak out way too early, you knew his mother was not going to be happy about it and his father would give him an even bigger shit for it. Sure, he could cancel, but what would he say? That their supposed cishet son is sending off his boyfriend at the airport for the night? He couldn't reason work either because he didn't exactly have one.

After having his wrongful DUI accusation last spring– which was actually already settled, on the grounds that it was definitely not DUI and the owner of the other car just overreacted to a fender bender, the media was adamant on tactically using that to taint his family's image and it unfortunately succeeded – hence, why Jimin had been laying low these past few months; going to training programs, obeying his parents more than usual, doing what they wanted...

You sighed. Your best friend deserved so much better.

"Don't worry, I'll find a way to get us to leave early." You told him after awhile.

Jimin arched his brow, intrigued.

Waving him off, you said, "I can fake something."

As if hearing some magic words, Jimin suddenly perked up.

"No way you're using the diarrhea card?"

Giving him a dirty look, you shook your head. "Nah, not during a dinner party. It's gotta be something new and less... gross."

"Oh, oh!" Jimin put a finger over his lip. "What about a sprained ankle? Can you pull that off?"

You deadpanned. "Okay, you ought to pay me more if you want me to do that."

"I can, but I won't. Stop ripping me off, I'm your best friend."

"Jimin, I'll save you from your family. I'm great at this." You said jokingly, but you hoped that he knew you weren't just jesting and were serious about it.

With the appreciation masking your best friend's face, though, you knew he got the message right away, but as you looked at him longer, you realize that he was about to say something and you quickly pulled back, shaking your head.

Jimin quickly reacted. "No! You know what, I'm gonna say it—"

"Don't say it." You quickly cut him off, giggling while you shake your cup of coffee.

"You can't keep me from saying I lo—"

"Jimin, I will tell everybody in this place you watch dubbed anime, I'm serious."

He gasped, quite dramatically.

"You did not just go there!" Then, he lowered his voice a bit, arching his brow at you, vindicative when he said, "You wore skinny jeans a month ago."

"How dare you, you wore a fuckass poncho last week. I saw on your IG story."

"That was from Namjoon and he also gave you one, FYI."

You grimaced. "Tell him I love him but I'm not wearing a poncho, Jimin."

"I was gonna tell you I love you and that you're the best person ever but now I have to rethink all of that." He rolled his eyes, and when the banter ended with you having the last words, you laughed at his face.

"God, you're just never beating me at this."

"Please, we both know you write your mediocre insults on your diary every night trying to one-up me, __. But let's talk about something else."

"I'm not even gonna acknowledge the diary thing but, sure, shoot." You said, starting to eat your pasta.

Jimin looked at your food full of judgement and grimaced. "Is that shrimp? Your doctor is growing grey pubes as we speak," He commented, and you knew he was referring to your shrimp allergy so you shushed him.

"This is vegan shrimp. It's tofu."

He just shook his head, disagreement written on his face. But he let it pass, anyway.

"Anyway, how's Mr. 446?"

The pasta suddenly entered the wrong track.

"Girl," Jimin was quick to offer you the glass of water on his side and you were just as fast to drink it. "You okay?"

"I'm sure there are existing cases of people dying because food got on the wrong track while they're eating, but yeah, sure, I'm okay." When you finished the water, you looked at Jimin who was just doing the same thing.

Crossing his arms, he eyed you expectantly. "Well?"

"I mean... what do you want me to say?" you told him, and you could've sworn you did not want to show anything on your face but you were certain there was a huge smile on it and for some reason, you couldn't help it.

Jimin's jaw dropped, expressions of disbelief and amusement when he asked you curiously, "What do you mean by that?"

"Okay, look, Jimin—" You scratched the back of your head, feeling a little sheepish to tell him all about Jungkook. "He told me we'd get dinner at his place this Friday if he wins this... thing."

His mouth was agape by then and you couldn't help but laugh.

"You... slut."

You would absolutely be rolling off the floor if you weren't at a public place the moment he mouthed the word, but still, you couldn't help but retort back.

"Shut up, you can't be the only one whoring around in this friendship." Jimin snorted at that and you both had to stifle your laughter when you noticed a woman from across the room eyeing you both.

This was one of the reasons why Jimin and you didn't belong in public places other than bars or clubs – because you were way too rowdy together for civilization.

"So you're saying you're whoring around?" He eyed you suspiciously.

"Wrong information. It's actually kind of platonic."

Jimin quickly waved you off. "Babe, if a guy invites you to his place, nothing is ever platonic about it. What do you think you'll do together there? Stare at each other for two hours straight?"

God, you hated and loved that he enables your delusions.

"Okay, you're being insane about this. It's just dinner," Trying to fight off the not-so-very-platonic things that suddenly played in your head after hearing his previous remark. To show that you didn't care, you added for good measure, "—And anyway, we had some sort of deal about it so it's not definite."

Your best friend just shrugged. "I'm all for it. But you're sure he isn't a serial killer, right?"

"Jimin, god, no," you chuckled at that. "I mean, I don't really know for sure, but we're friends now and as far as I know, he's never shown signs of psychopathy."

Jimin and you hadn't hung out in a while, so you haven't really told him all about Jungkook yet and the things you got to know about him. He didn't even know his name. As far as he was concerned, Jungkook was still Mr. 446, and you were fine keeping it that way. He had a lot on his plate right now, anyway.

"Just being cautious." He sing-sang, putting both his hands in the air.

You shook your head.

"Anyway, we also need to talk about what we're gonna wear tomorrow," Jimin suddenly said. "You got the Pinterest board I sent you, right? For the inspo."

Grinning, you grabbed your iPad from your bag and got to the link immediately. Your phone died on the way to the café. Good thing you had another device and brought it with you.

"I also added a few things in here. Gold and black's the theme, right?" You clarified, scrolling through the board you and Jimin both contributed to. Your best friend took it upon himself to transfer seats so he could be beside you and look at your screen at the same time.

"You're gonna look so good in Schiaparelli, babe," Jimin said while checking out the pictures you added.

"It's just an inspo, I don't actually need to wear a Schiaparelli." You chuckled.

"Who do you think your best friend is?"

You both laughed at that but it stopped when a notification popped up on your computer. Recognizing the address as your work email, you were quick to hover over it. When you were about to open it to see the full message, your iPad suddenly died.

"Shoot." You looked at Jimin with a straight face. "I forgot to plug it in. Didn't notice the battery."

Jimin grimaced. "Didn't bring any power cable."

"We'll have to do with a phone. Mine died."

You were just about to ask him for his but then you remembered what he said about avoiding Namjoon, hence, his phone was of no use either.

"We're gonna have to freestyle."

Last year, Mrs. Park's party was held at a theater hall – your first time at one, by the way.

Tonight, it was at their mansion.

You've only ever been to the Park's a total of one time, which was now. Stepping a foot inside here for the first time in your life, the house felt unreal. It was the epitome of money and wealth and everything regal in the world – like a palace of some sort. They had butlers and guards at the gates so maybe that wasn't an exaggeration, but damn, Jimin truly came from money.

Regardless of how shiny the whole building was in both literal and figurative senses though, there was an emptiness to it. It didn't look lived in – which was a fair assumption for a house this big. It definitely did not look like people liked staying here, and maybe that was not a stretch, because as soon as he turned 18, Jimin moved away and lived in his own place ever since. You asked him on your way here and he told you it was his first time this year to visit his own house.

The decoration was sick, though. Granted, they must have surely hired people to do it but at least they'd hired excellent ones. You wouldn't have expected anything less from Jimin's mom.

Jimin and you arrived at 10pm sharp, and thankfully, people were already starting to fill the place up. It was now past 15 minutes to 10pm since you arrived and there really was nothing different that went on from last year; you saw some familiar faces, politicians, and celebrities. Jimin introduced you to some people as his girlfriend, and you got to have quick chats with his model friends.

You knew it didn't actually matter if you thought about it carefully, but there was truly nothing compared to the feeling you get when you see someone in the flesh that you only see on TV all your life. You didn't feel lucky to see them in person, per se, you were just poured over the realization that these people were actually real and they weren't just some sort of simulation to keep the entertainment industry of your country afloat.

Although, you did meet Han Sol – an actress whose works you genuinely admired. Jimin just told you her husband was his second cousin.

It wasn't later that Jimin and you were invited to his family's table, where some of his cousins and immediate family were.

The greetings went pretty normal. Normal as in: Jimin's mom didn't say anything about your weight first thing first. Granted, she didn't try to hide the look of disappointment on her face when she saw you with his son. Probably reeling at the fact that you were still "dating" each other even after a year — she was probably under the impression that it wasn't serious between you two last year. His father, meanwhile, was... quiet. As usual. A man who obviously didn't really say much except ask Jimin about the training program and his siblings' jobs.

Mr. Park didn't really talk to you, just like last year. Like you were almost invisible to him – and you were glad that was the case. He probably didn't like to acknowledge your supposed relationship in the first place. Probably knew that you were working a middle-class job and didn't want to know any further. But at least, he wasn't saying anything. That was nice.

"Where's your cousin?" Asked Jimin's mom suddenly, looking at his son.

"He said he got caught up in traffic. Sent 20 minutes ago." Jimin shrugged. You would ask him about which cousin they were referring to but they had like millions of it at these events so you didn't bother.

Mrs. Park shook her head disapprovingly. "That kid. Always late to the family dinners. Did Junghyun ever teach—"

"Hey,"

Your attention was then focused to the man who just arrived. Black tie, tall... dashing. Jimin was a good-looking individual and his family, as evil as they may be as per his words, were blessed with good genes. If you were to look at the new man that arrived to the table very carefully, you'd say he almost looked familiar.

"Oh, Junghyun!"

Jimin glanced at you and discreetly mouthed, "Cousin."

"Aunt, happy birthday." He said after laughing at Jimin's mother coos. He looked across the table and continued, "Hi, uncle. Jaeyul, Sunghoon, Jimin." They all greeted him back and you could feel the hairs on your nape starting to stand up when his eyes landed on you once again. "And this is...?"

"Oh, that's Jimin's girlfriend, __." Jaeyul, Jimin's brother said.

"Hi." you greeted him, waving a bit.

"Oh?" Junghyun immediately looked at Jimin, eyes not hiding his shock. When you trained your eyes on Jimin, you felt his fake smile. "That's great, man. I didn't know you had a girlfriend. Hi, miss...?"

"It's __." you filled in.

"Nice to meet you, __." He said with a smile. The more you looked at him, the more you could almost pinpoint who he looked like – but that shouldn't really matter.

Junghyun looked over Jimin's parents once again, "Anyway, sorry I'm a bit late, got caught up in traffic."

Jimin cleared his throat.

"How about you, Junghyun? Got a girlfriend yet?" He asked as soon as Junghyun sat on the opposite side of the long table.

You could see Jimin's mother's curiosity peaking at that.

"Tell us, dear. Last time you were dating Kang Iseul, right? The actress. You're still with her?"

Everybody at the table nodded while you almost choked on the smoked quail you were eating. He was dating Kang Iseul? She was a popular actress who announced a hiatus three years ago. That actress Kang Iseul?

Junghyun chuckled and shook his head. "Nah, aunt, that was my brother, and uh, no, I'm not dating anybody currently."

"Oh well. I just wish your brother stops dating that woman. I never really liked that girl. She acts way too self-righteous! I mean, who cut ties with their billionaire father and live independently just so they can say they're self-made? It's ridiculous." Jimin's mother said in that usual snotty tone of hers, and you could not possibly process all of what was going on.

If it wasn't clear to you a moment ago, it was crystal now. Unfortunately, you were a bit chronically online and were there in real time when one random tweet blew up about Kang Iseul being a nepotism baby. But was this guy's brother really dating her? The most important and concerning thing, though, was that: why was Jimin's mom always so annoying about who her family members date? And this was not even her immediate family, mind you.

"Jina," Jimin's father had a warning tone when he called her but Jimin's mom just shrugged him off with a "tsk!"

"Kids are so ungrateful nowadays, don't you think? Anyway, Junghyun dear, you remember the Kang gala I told you about two months ago?" Jimin's mom looked pointedly at Jimin and you bit your lip.

Of course, here comes her passive aggressive disapproval of you.

"Kang Heesu and her sister Kang Hani will be there. Heesu is a wonderful woman," she chuckled, looking over at Jimin's direction subtly. You had to physically restrain yourself from rolling your eyes. Couldn't she be more obvious about acting as a wingman for Jimin and Heesu? But she continued, just like she always did. "I also heard Kang Hani is going for senior partner at Yoon and Yang, you may be interested. Pretty lady."

Junghyun just awkwardly laughed. "I'll keep that in mind."

Jimiin's father suddenly spoke, making everyone look at him.

"Where is that kid?" He said, authority dripping through his voice. Jimin was obviously not close to his father, and who would be? Mr. Park was way too intimidating. You found it funny to think if he ever did anything remotely paternal towards his children.

"We were supposed to go together but he said he had something to finish. He'll be arriving later." Junghyun said, obviously not oblivious to the "kid" Mr. Park was referring to. You were way too uncaring to actually try to figure that out.

"I see." Jimin's father nodded. "How's Jeon and Min, Junghyun? I heard you were just appointed managing partner last week."

Junghyun responded with a "yes" and they started to talk about the law firm – you assumed – and other people they mutually knew related to the business.

You knew Jimin's complicated family tree was composed of all sorts of professionals, but damn, they had lawyers in here too. It was like out of a career day event at grade schools.

"Is it true Gukka's going to be CEO?" Jimin's mother said, joining the conversation.

You were glad they were doing all the talking. Last year, they talked to you like they were interrogating you and that was not nice.

"Well, dad's not giving up the company so soon. Gukka's going for interim CTO first." Junghyun said with a polite smile.

Gukka. That must be the brother of Junghyun, although it sounded more like a nickname than a real name.

"Your brother's a hard worker. He's looking at a CEO position, some are still at training programs." Jimin's father remarked with a pointed tone.

Oh, fuck me, you thought to yourself. You thought it was gonna take awhile for the comparison to start, but it seemed they were determined to beat their record of one hour from last year.

You tried subtly looking at Jimin to see if he was okay or anything, but you felt him squeezing your wrist under the table. His face was devoid of any emotion as he continued with his own food.

Junghyun, meanwhile, was obviously taken aback by the response and also looked over at Jimin. He was quick to recover, though – probably knew that was a jab at his cousin just like every other person in the room. Atmosphere grew tense, and you had to squirm in your seat a little bit.

"Training programs help a lot, though." Junghyun awkwardly laughed. You were starting to feel bad for him as well.

"Well, you're lawyering. Trainings are important. Mine's kinda stupid." Jimin said which made everybody look at him, including you.

"You're learning anything yet, son?" His father pointedly looked at him.

"We'll see."

Jimin's dismissive tone made you feel the eye roll he would've done after saying that.

Look, he rebelled for the most part of his life so him being passive-aggressive towards his family was not a new thing, but to witness it was both nerve-wracking and honestly... funny. His parents were such assholes so they probably deserved his attitude.

Mrs. Park smiled a fake one before looking at you.

"Well, what about you __ dear? You're a... what was that again? How is that going for you?"

Because you wanted to piss them off, you mirrored her fake smile and said, "I got fired six months ago at my accounting job."

"Pft—" you pinched Jimin's arm at his reaction.

Of course he'd laugh at that. You asked him how you could piss his parents off tonight just to get back at them from last year and he told you to pretend to be unemployed or you work a minimum wage job because that was their biggest ick. Jimin didn't know you were going to come through.

"Oh."

The look on Jimin's mom's face looked as if she heard the most scandalous thing ever, and if his father's frown was deep even before the dinner started, his face was now below the ground. It felt satisfying to get those looks on their faces. Good! They were such assholes. Imagine getting devastated at someone being unemployed? Okay – for the record, being unemployed was devastating but these people weren't sympathizing with that, they found it humiliating in an elitist way– criminal almost.

You nodded, your lips almost getting tired from stretching them too far.

"Yeah. Anyway, I started working at a local burger joint. You should visit us sometime."

"I'm vegan." Jimin's mom said, her face now drained with the fake joy she's worn all night.

"We have vegan options." you quipped. Jimin once again made a sound beside you, hiding his laughter.

"Wait, really? They offer vegan options at a street burger joint?" Sunghoon, the youngest of the Park brothers, asked.

You almost laughed at the genuine curiosity in his voice. He was still in high school and from what Jimin told you, he was a nice kid. He wasn't very close to any of his brothers, though.

"Nah, it's the only one in town." You bullshit one more time, drinking the wine beside you. "Sorry, can I excuse myself for a minute?"

They nodded and you stood up, heading to the bathroom, brisking once you got out of their sight to get there more quickly.

It was now 10:30 pm – meaning, you had to do something to get Jimin out of here now if he wanted to be on time at the airport to send off Namjoon.

Once you got inside, you looked at yourself in the mirror and sighed.

This whole thing was sucking the shit out of your soul, but you needed to get through it.

It took you awhile to finish your pep talk in the bathroom.

If only you could've have locked yourself in there to avoid socializing with anybody, you willingly would. But you were running out of time and unfortunately, you had something to do and that was to fake some illness to get both Jimin and you out of here.

When you got out to approach the family's table one more time, you suddenly stopped in your tracks.

The table was at least fifteen meters away from where you stood, but you could clearly see the side in which Jimin's cousin, Junghyun, sat, facing your direction. He wasn't the issue – no, far from it. It was the guy beside him who wore the same set of black tie as him; the face attached to the body who wore it though, was someone you did not expect to see.

Why the fuck was Jungkook, Unit 446, here?!

From where you were, you could see him engaging with Junghyun and Jimin's parents. You couldn't hear them, of course, but it was clear that they were acquainted – close – even from afar.

Why did he look so comfortable with the Parks? Why was he at the family table laughing and conversing with everybody, including Jimin? Why did he seem like he went to many of these, like this was just another Thursday for him?

There was a waiter who walked past you and you were grateful for it because had it not been the case, people would start to get weirded out about you standing on the same place longer than necessary, looking stoned. That was also an opportunity to run away from the situation without Jungkook possibly seeing and recognizing you.

"I'll take this," You told the waiter and grabbed the glass of champagne and quickly turned on your heels, heading to the opposite side of the family table where the Parks, and apparently, Jungkook were.

You found yourself heading to the bathroom again, your feet seemingly developing a mind of its own as it led you there unconsciously. You knew you'd be in trouble if they found out about you putting the champagne glass in the sink, but you needed to get inside the toilet and think over everything that was happening tonight.

What the fuck. What the fuck! Again, why the hell was Jungkook here?

As far as you knew, he was just a regular man that happened to be living across from you. He was just supposed to be some guy you were regularly hanging out with nowadays. Your friend. Your crush – whatever! What he wasn't supposed to be is be here at your best friend's mother's birthday party and hanging out with his family!

Your phone dinged, a message notification from Jimin welcoming you.

cuntress #1 [10:32pm]: girl what happened I saw u going back to the bathroom?

You didn't know why it was suddenly too hot, but you felt the balls of sweat starting to form on the side of your forehead.

You [10:33pm]: im going with the diarrhea excuse

cuntress #1 [10:33pm]: tbh idc atp I just wanna go to joon 😔

"Shit!"

Right! Joon. Namjoon. Jimin needed to go to Nmajoon as soon as possible.

cuntress #1 [10:33pm]: also another cousin has arrived u rmr jeon jungkook he's junghyun's brother cuntress #1 [10:33pm]: love this guy but moms starting to compare me to him and I need out right NEOW im justt aking hits after hits jesusssssss

You could just feel the blood draining from your face as soon as you read Jungkook's name in the text.

Jeon Jungkook. Jungkook. Gukka. Kook-a.

That was why the Junghyun guy looked familiar. Because he had the same coloring of Jeon Jungkook. Because they were goddamn siblings.

You started to replay some memories in your head, trying to figure out if you've ever heard Jungkook talk about his family in one of your conversations. But as far as you remembered, he never did. All you knew about him was that he was from the States, and he only got here because of work and he had a dog and as far as you were concerned, his cousin was definitely not Park fucking Jimin, your best friend.

Pacing around the confined space of the toilet, you tried to wrack your brain if you've ever mentioned Jimin to him and in the event that you did, why he never told you that he was his cousin – but you came up blank. Blank because you never told him about your best friend's name... and in turn, Jimin didn't know what Mr. 446's name was, either. They were both genuinely oblivious about the whole thing and couldn't have made you a fool in the situation.

In short, you were the one who was stupid as hell for not connecting the dots sooner.

"Hey, you just landed?"

"Nah, you want me to pick you up?" Jimin sat up on the edge of the bed and you looked at him curiously. "Sure, I'm free, Kook. You have a place to stay? Hotel suite or something?" He nodded to whatever the other person was saying on the other line. "Oh, you're here for three months? Thought you were just flying in for mom's birthday?"

It was moments after they said goodbye that Jimin turned to you to ask, "Well, my cousin's apparently staying here for three months. Got this job thing going on."

"Fuck me." You hissed, remembering that time when Jimin told you about his cousin staying here for three months because of work.

cuntress #1 [10:35pm]: its either ur taking a guinness world record breaker piss there or u really do have diarrhea now and ur shitting cuntress #1 [10:36pm]: anyway get this, jungkook's gonna be interim cto at your company did u know that??????????????????

You almost dropped your phone upon reading the last message.

What the hell did he mean by that?

Heart beating fast as if it wanted to break out of your own ribcage, you closed your eyes and read Jimin's message once again. There was no way he would be shitting you about any of this. He knew where you worked at and you knew your current company was his uncle's, and now that you knew Jungkook was his cousin...

Shit. Was this what they were talking about at the table earlier? About Junghyun saying his brother was gonna be interim CTO? Did he mean Jeon Jungkook all along? Your freaking neighbor?

Suddenly, you remembered the email you received that afternoon that you never bothered to check again because you simply forgot about it. Who even actually checks their work email? Literally no one. You spend your weeks facing your computer while email flew in like porn ads on a shady website, you weren't about to willingly go to the app and check it on your leisure time.

But maybe you should have.

Fingers involuntarily shaking in their wake as you switched to your work email on your phone, you clicked on the recent unread message that was on top from the HR department.

Subject: Invitation to Ceremony: Announcement of Interim CTO Dear Blue Nexus Inc. employee, We hope this email finds you well. We would like to inform you that a ceremony has been scheduled on July 29, 2028, 10:00 am at the AVR Hall 5, 12th floor. The purpose of this meeting is to announce the appointment of our interim Chief Technology Officer (CTO), Mr. Jeon Jungkook. As you may be aware, our previous CTO, Mr. Shin Juman, is currently on medical leave recovering from a stroke. While he is recuperating and undergoing treatment, it has become necessary for us to appoint an interim CTO for an indefinite period of time to ensure the continuity and effectiveness of our operations. Your presence at this ceremony is highly valued as we introduce the new leadership to the team and outline our strategic direction moving forward. Light refreshments will be served. Thank you for your attention to this matter. We look forward to seeing you at the ceremony. Best regards, HR Department

You knew that feeling when you were just taking hits and hits? This was it.

So not only was Jeon Jungkook Jimin's cousin, he was also gonna be the interim CTO of the company you were currently working at. He was technically going to be your boss, and you would be both working in the same place all the while living across each other where he would see you taking out your trash every Sunday morning in your worn-out highschool PE shirt and pants. He was going to be your boss working at the company you complained to him about on the nights you walked together to your shared apartment complex.

You flirted with Jungkook. You flirted with the guy who was the son of the owner of your whole company building – and not only that, he was your best friend's cousin, to add salt to injury.

You [10:38pm]: jimin we need to get out of here

cuntress #1 [10:38pm]: ive been saying

You [10:38pm]: but i cant go out there again. Just tell them i had a problem in the bathroom??

cuntress #1 [10:38pm]: ok on it cuntress #1 [10:38pm]: im kind of convinced u shitted in there tho????????

You rolled your eyes, but at the same time found an opportunity in that. Jimin can't know the truth.

You [10:39pm]: u cant judge me for having a very human experience fuck u the cake i ate earlier was giving cake boss

cuntress #1 [10:39pm]: KJAHFKGSIDFHDSHASFHSKJBF

You [10:39pm]: im literally doing this for u and joon

cuntress #1 [10:39pm]: IKNOW!!!!!!!!!!!!thanks to ur stomach problems cuntress #1 [10:39pm]: im going there

You [10:40pm]: make sure they don't see us again to really sell the whole im-embarassed-thing

cuntress #1 [10:40pm]: ON IT! Were going out the back door I don't think they'll notice

You couldn't even find it in you to laugh a little bit at your silly exchange and scheme, because you were way too stressed about what you just found out.

You let out a controlled, heavy breath, leaning your back on the door and shut your eyes aggressively.

"What the hell am I gonna do after this?"

PART TWO | ....

#fic: nb #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook #jungkook x you #bts imagines #bts fluff #bts smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook

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blackknight-kai · 2 months ago

Note

Let me start saying I love your blog, reblogs and headcanons, truly, all of the above🩷🩷

If you’re comfortable with the question, do you have any for the Destined One with a female virgin reader?

So I wanna say thank you 🫶🫶🫶🫶 I haven’t quite shared my own head canons much but I don’t have any issue sharing them 🫶 others do a much better job of it so I’ve left it to them. But! Your ask comes at a wonderful time as I needed a break from writing a fic 💀 (kill me im up to 20k)

Let’s get after it! Destined One & a female virgin head canons? I’ll give it a shot! There will be a nsfw section below sorry if that’s not your thing. I wasn’t super explicit on body parts etc but let me know if you guys want a Sun Wukong one? I’d try.

If you’re NOT in a relationship yet and he finds out? (Be it you told him outright or it comes out in passing conversation)

He’d would remain expressionless and quiet as usual. Not wanting to make a big deal out of it and remain respectful

But if you look closely you can see him swallowing thickly at the new information

Will NOT treat you differently

He has a LOT of feelings for you and knowing you haven’t shared yourself with someone else, while not a huge deal he’s never really cared one way or another, it’s something he finds himself thinking about often.

It makes him a little hot under the collar sometimes when he looks at you and remembers what you’d said.

NSFW - on the very rare occasions that he takes some time to himself or you’re not around, in the quiet he puts his goal to the side for just a moment and allows himself to think about his wishes and whims. Specially how he’d touch you and make it good for you because you deserve to be treated like you’re special and HE wants to be the one to do it.

If you’re in a relationship and it either came up naturally or during a more…heated moment.

Would absolutely freeze. Like body full on screenshot kinda freeze - only his tail would flick and twitch as he processes

Because honestly it hadn’t occurred to him before but it is NOW. He’s thought of you and making love with you but first or not first hadn’t been a topic of thought

He’d probably internally get flustered and his heart would race ridiculously but on the outside his expression would appear stoic or mildly surprised

Wouldn’t try to pressure you or make a big deal out of it, as though it doesn’t matter one way or another besides making extra sure you’re comfortable

His tail would eventually give him away though as it would be swishing behind him happy and interested as the information settles in his brain

Dude would be first and foremost HONORED If you shared that news with him and were giving him your first

Probably a first for him too ngl. I see him as someone who was so focused on his path that warming another’s bed wasn’t something he was willing to spare time on.

If it’s not a first for him too then it’s not something he’s done often and isn’t an expert

Would definitely thank you for trusting him with sweet reassuring kisses (if they are a little heated don’t blame him too much)

He is respectful! As I said no pressure. No rush. But would the information please him? Yes.

Definitely adds fire to his belly because HE will be your first

Sends a note of possession through him not because he’d “own” you but because regardless of being a first or not you’d be his and he yours.

NSFW:

Regardless of if you’re shy or ready to get the show on the road he’d be so gentle and would be careful, really careful.

Probably a bit unsure and might move a little too fast accidentally in his own lust but would immediately sooth you as soon as he realizes

Looks to your expressions and sounds to make sure you’re feeling good and safe

He wants to treat you WELL views it as HIS duty to make sure you’re happy

It’s a lot of pressure but he’d do his best and set his mind to it being nothing but perfect for you

I imagine at first his hands would be so feather light letting you get used to him and his touch as he undresses you piece by piece- he’d watch his claws unless he finds out you enjoy them grazing across your skin

He’d brush his lips across every piece of new skin revealed to his eyes unable to help himself

Finds out he really loves your chest, both feeling you & tasting you. as well as napping on you later

But over time as the act went on he’d be more confident, still tender but less unsure

He’d be enamored every time he got you to sigh or make a pleased sound

It’s his goal to hears those often

When he discovers how turned on he’s made you it would send waves of pride crashing over him, he had done THAT

Overall though he’d take his time

He probably won’t speak much if at all, but he’d make sure you’re ready every step of the way. If he does speak it’s not more than a few words here or there, low and only for you to hear as he nips your ear

Multiple check ins

He’s a giver, and while he isn’t practiced whatsoever he’d use his mouth and fingers to bring you pleasure, finding out exactly how you like it by listening to the way you moan or the way your body shivers and trembles with specific movements

He 100% will become VERY VERY good with his hands and mouth

His tail is sneaky, he’d use it as a way to hold on to your leg (holding you open while one of his hands is occupied) or would brush the the furry appendage across your skin just to see goosebumps rise in its wake

When you’re finally connected, after time spent letting you get used to him (and him you because let’s be real he’d be overwhelmed by the feel of tightly wrapped around him too) he’d roll his hips gently

He would make sounds, sighs and groans in your ear.

He’d love it if you cling on to him and tell him he’s doing something good

Full on shudders if you scratch his back or dig your nails into him - he loves it and he might accidentally thrust too hard when you do it

Wants to hear you 👏👏

Would keep control for as long as he could but would listen to your requests almost instantly if you asked him to move faster

Would love it if you moved his hand exactly where you wanted him to touch you

Would suck marks on your skin - thighs and neck, wherever he absentmindedly ran his lips. Would be shy about it later but would touch them possessively or when you’re dressed his eyes would stray to where his marks are on your skin.

Afterwards he’d silently but tenderly wipe you down and then pull you into his arms

Would nuzzle his face against you and breathe your scent as you both relax and come down from your high

Would massage any soreness you have that he could and feel pride at wearing you out, although his face wouldn’t show it

His tail would be like a vice around your thigh all night and trying to get out of his hold in the morning is a chore

He’d 100% take care of you especially for a first time is basically what I’m saying. After, he may be a bit rougher with his movements or may be impatient at times especially after a tough fight and adrenaline is still kicking but will always treat you tenderly as you guys build confidence together.

#black myth wukong #black myth wukong x reader #destined one x reader #sun wukong x reader #I tried 💀🤣#back to the ol fic grind now #thank you anon 🫶#BK Kai Writes

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azzifuddslover · 10 days ago

Text

off the court

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

trope: “enemies” to lovers

theme: angst?

tw: light swearing, self homophobia

word count: 2.2k

a/n: hii! i absolutely adore reading pazzi fics so i figured i’d write one myself 🙃 i’m sorry this is so boring but i kinda want to build it up yk. i also apologize for my lack of basketball terminology. and i’m aware yanna and ashlynn aren’t the same year as carol and azzi, but for the purpose of this series, pretend they are.

CHAPTER ONE

USA BASKETBALL TRIALS

regardless of paige’s flashy smile and head held high, her heart was beating out of her chest with nerves. this was it. the USA basketball trials she’s been working so hard for. it was time to prove she was the best she knew she could be.

walking into the open gym, there was a few girls scattered around, talking quietly amongst their friends. some were already getting reps in, working on their dribbling and shooting while others stretched. paige felt her heart slow down at the sight of other young girls looking equally as nervous.

quickly setting her belongings in a nearby locker, paige began to stretch her already sore limbs. yesterday, she practiced and practiced until the sun went down, trying to calm the overwhelming feeling of what if i’m not good enough?

paige looked over at the gym door as it opened loudly, spotting a curly headed girl clutching the straps of her backpack tightly. paige’s cheeks immediately heated at the sight of the beautiful brunette; she looked like nobody she’s ever seen before.

“alright ladies,” the head USA coach shouted, “time for warms up. get stretched, practice shooting, then we’ll get this show on the road.”

one hour later in and paige started to feel herself. her confidence spiked as soon as shooting begun after noticing how she’s clearly one of the best ones here, although she’d never say that out loud.

it eventually came time for 3v3s, so the coaches could closely analyze each player’s strengths. the first team was fran, azzi, and caitlin, while the second was paige, aliyah, and celeste.

it started with caitlin draining a few 3s, aliyah getting all the rebounds, and paige raking up assist after assist. once azzi had her hands on the ball, though, was when everyone realized who they were up against. azzi, with her textbook perfect shot, hit five 3s back to back, regardless of the good defense celeste was applying. paige was shocked to see such a good shooter, especially one she’s never heard of before these tryouts.

after a failed shot, aliyah secured the rebound and passed it to paige who then moved it up the floor at full speed. azzi, the slightly shorter brunette who paige noticed earlier, was successfully keeping up with her pace.

annoyed at azzi’s skills, paige passed the ball behind her back, causing azzi to slip to her knees. paige then took the easy layup, smiling smugly to herself.

“jesus,” azzi muttered, still on the floor.

paige couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of azzi on the ground, considering how good of a player she truly is.

“you good, azzi?” fran asked, helping pull her to her feet.

“yeah, just fine,” azzi replied.

paige didn’t ignore the glare she got from azzi, who purposefully hit her shoulder.

“it was an accident,” paige said defensively.

“whatever,” azzi rolled her eyes, brushed it off, and continued to focus on the 3v3.

only a minute after, azzi had her hands on the ball, bringing it up the court, with paige on her heels. she got to the 3 point line; paige set up her defense with her hand out, ready for the 3 shot to come, but azzi took a step back and drained it before paige could react.

azzi snickered at paige’s expression. it was paige’s turn to harshly glare at her, which only caused azzi to laugh harder.

“oh, shut up, you’re not even that good,” paige lied through her teeth.

“yeah, well, you aren’t either,” azzi said.

“paige, azzi, can we focus, please?” the coach shouted, making several heads turn to look at the two who turned red and nodded.

five days past, and the rest of the tryout went smoothly. azzi and paige didn’t have to interact again, and certainly made good impressions on the coaches with their skill sets.

today was the day the team was posted, and paige couldn’t be more nervous yet excited. the final 20 girls were all doing their own thing, some continued to shoot, while others socialized with the friends they’ve made. paige worked on her dibbling on her own, stealing glances at azzi who was with celeste, laughing together. paige couldn’t help the jealous feeling she got in her chest.

“it’s posted!” one of the girls squealed.

all 20 young girls rushed over to the paige that said the lucky 12 who made the USA basketball, 2017 team. somehow, azzi and paige ended up standing next to one another, but didn’t seem to mind at this moment. once it was paige’s turn to scroll through the names, she quickly spotted hers and smiled to herself, proudly. azzi was next to look, and instantly recognized hers right under paige’s. she blew out a breath in relief and congratulated the other girls that also made the team, as well as comforted those who didn’t.

paige’s eyes wandered to azzi, annoyed that she made the team but also secretly pleased, knowing how well of a player she is. she told herself it was for that reason, and that reason only.

“congrats, paige,” azzi told her, though her face was said she was not happy about them being on the same team. not after their little interaction in day one of tryouts.

“thanks, i guess,” paige muttered, keeping her face neutral.

they went their separate ways, azzi going to her friend celeste while paige walked over to aliyah and caitlin. azzi pretended to ignore the looks paige was sending her, deciding to focus on her and celeste’s conversation rather than wondering what paige was thinking.

throughout all of the USA basketball games, azzi and paige continued to ignore one another. they barely spoke, and if forced to, it wouldn’t last long.

one night after a tough game, paige laid in her hotel bed, scrolling on her phone while her roommate, samantha, was sound asleep. she stumbled upon azzi’s instagram paige, totally on accident. she definitely didn’t look it up. she couldn’t stand azzi.

paige scrolled through azzi’s posts, closely looking at azzi throughout the years. paige felt her cheeks grow warm at azzi’s beauty; her full lips not that she was looking at her lips, perfect brown curls, cute ass dimples.

with a slip of a finger, paige accidentally liked a photo from 2015. panicking, paige closed instagram and threw her phone down.

“oh, shit,” paige muttered, embarrassed and praying azzi wouldn’t notice the small like.

only a few minutes later, paige felt her phone buzz from underneath her. it was a instagram notification. paige’s heart began to race as her shaking hand clicked on the notification. of course, it was a dm from none other than azzi fudd.

stalker, much? it read.

paige’s face reddened as embarrassment flooded her body. not knowing how to respond, paige accidentally left azzi on read for a short while.

damn, read too? okay paige.

paige’s eyes widen at the dm. why did azzi care that she left her on read? they hate each other. she should leave it alone, really.

sorry. and it was an accident, paige typed.

anxiously waiting for azzi to reply, paige continued to observe azzi’s few posts. pictures with her friends and family, a cute photo of her dog, pictures from previous basketball games. she attempted and failed to hide her admiration for azzi, but she just couldn’t help it. her beauty was unreal.

paige hated these warm feelings she was having towards azzi. towards a girl in general. why can’t i be normal? she would constantly ask herself.

lol ur fine, read azzi’s dm.

paige didn’t want the conversation to end, not just because she was bored out of her mind, but also because she kind of liked talking to azzi, although she would never admit it.

so wyd? paige quickly sent without having a chance to overthink it.

why do u care? azzi replied. she had a good point; why did paige care what azzi was up too? she definitely had better things to do than texting paige, someone she hated, at 10 pm.

dunno, just curious i guess. forget it lol paige replied.

i’m laying in bed, wondering why in the world is paige bueckers looked at my instagram posts.

well damn, she had paige there. what excuse did she have? i wanted to look at you even though i’m supposed to hate you? that wouldn’t do.

must be a glitch was the best paige could come up with. she definitely didn’t want to admit to looking at her profile, though it’s obvious she was.

a glitch. sure paige, whatever you say.

not knowing how to continue the conversation, paige liked the message and plugged her phone into the charger. sleep soon consumed her, letting all of the azzi thoughts go.

it was the day of the final USA basketball season. the girls have won all of the games, blowing each team out of the water. azzi’s 3s were on point nearly every time, while paige mastered in passing to open teammates.

the team was up 25 points against canada. both paige and azzi were doing well the entire game, so they were given a break to rest on the bench. paige shifted nervously with having azzi’s presence so close, still extremely embarrassed about her accidentally liking an old post of azzi’s only a couple of nights ago.

azzi was laughing at something celeste said, causing paige to look over at her. when they made eye contact, paige almost instantly looks away while her cheeks grew pink.

get azzi out of your mind, she told herself over and over. frustration overwhelmed her because why in the world did paige feel for azzi? she wasn’t suppose to likes girls. she just wanted to be normal.

“you okay, paige?” azzi questioned, cautiously looking over at the girl.

“just fine, azzi,” paige nearly shouted.

“okay, geez, i was just asking,” azzi scrunched her eyebrows, confused at paige’s outburst.

“don’t,” paige answered coldly, earning a glare from not only azzi but also celeste and fran, who had previously heard paige.

the game ended soon after the two’s interaction. the 2017 USA basketball season had come to a close, with them winning 105-71. the girls began shouting and hugging one another. paige hugged most of her teammates, all besides azzi who she made a point to ignore.

mid hug with aliyah, paige felt someone back into her, hard. shocker, it was azzi who was beaming, still absorbing the win.

trying to ignore azzi’s cute ass smile, paige said, “watch where you’re going.”

azzi’s smile faltered immediately at paige’s attitude. “it was an accident, god.”

“yeah, well, make less of them,” paige rolled her eyes, moving away from azzi.

however, azzi was done with the constant annoyance paige carried when talking with her. azzi quickly grabbed the older girl’s shoulder, causing her to face her.

“what is your problem, paige?”

anger clouded paige’s face, “you, dammit!”

“what have i ever done to you?” azzi shouted back.

“god, azzi, just leave me alone!” paige pushed azzi back, making her slip into the backs of her teammates.

“jesus, paige, calm down, will you?” caitlin said, helping azzi reposition herself.

paige looked at her teammates glaring at her. feeling ashamed and embarrassed, she bolted for the exit door, never turning back regardless of the coaches shouts.

PRESENT DAY

can u hurry tf up? nika’s message came into paige’s phone.

“oh fuck,” paige had totally forgotten today was the day incoming freshman were being introduced to everyone. paige, nika, and aubrey had taken the responsibility to show them around, though paige fought it every chance she got. she knew who was going to be here, and dreaded having to show her around.

paige quickly brushed her teeth, threw on a comfortable outfit, and tied her blonde hair back into a low ponytail. she slipped on a pair of nike slides and made her way to the gym where they planned to meet.

aubrey and nika were already in the gym by the time paige got there, no surprise. paige was constantly late to things like this, not that she cared.

“about time, p,” nika called out as paige made her way to them.

“yeah, yeah, sorry,” paige smiled at the two of her closest friends.

“when do you think they’re gonna be here?” aubrey asked.

“pretty soon, i think,” nika answered, checking her phone for the time.

“i heard they’re really good,” aubrey said, a grin on her face.

“i sure hope, cause we need it,” nika replied, laughing a little.

“hey! i think we make do with our players just fine,” paige told nika.

“p, we’re down like 5 players. we need this.”

as soon as nika said it, the gym door opened and in walked the 4 incoming freshman. caroline led the group, then ayanna, followed by ashlynn. paige’s eyes wandered before looking back at the last freshman. as soon as paige saw her, paige’s heart quickened and her palms began to sweat. azzi fudd looked the exact same as she did back in 2017, with the same bright smile and dimples popping out. however, when azzi’s line of sight landed on paige, her smiled dropped.

“here we go,” paige whispered to herself before the freshmen crossed the room to the three girls.

#azzi fudd #paige bueckers #paige x azzi #pazzi #fanfic #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #wbb #usa basketball #basketball #paige buckets

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sweeterthanficstion · 2 months ago

Text

— between here and there || l.s.k

pairing: ghost!leon kennedy x ghosthunter!fem!reader

tags: set in 2001, graphic depictions of dead animals one is right under the cut, mentions of death, mentions of grief, mentions of violence, themes of obsession and love, implied/referenced childhood abuse inflicted by a parent, typical horror topics. (if i missed anything pls dm me and let me know!!)

summary: Even if it is full of love, all a ghost can do is haunt. Or: The year is 2001, and you've just found out about a haunted homestead on a prairie, sure to hold a million mysteries within its rotting walls. You've chased rumors of the supernatural before, but this place feels... different. Maybe this time, you'll find the evidence you need to prove the existence of the other side—and finally go viral. But quickly you come to learn that some doors, once opened, can't be shut.

word count: 6.6k

a/n: i wrote 80% of this fic on my phone, so i'm sorry if it reads badly 😔, i hope you enjoy regardless though! and things will make more sense in the coming parts, i promise <3 also; thank you claudia for beta-reading for me!! n also thank you @/uhlunaro for bone-chill, go read their work!! it's so good n inspired this fic.

playlist ⭑ AO3 || back to the party ⭑ next (coming soon) »

You were eight when you saw your first ghost. Your mother had found you with your face pressed up against the living room window, eyes wide as you stared out into your backyard, convinced there was a dog by the fence that was staring right back.

Your mother had ushered you back to bed, murmuring about how there was no dog out there, and you needed to sleep. But you saw him! You swear it! Floppy ears and a bone between his teeth.

You couldn’t sleep that night, tossing and turning and anxiously waiting for morning to come. By the time the sunlight had crept through your window, you scampered outside to prove it. You’d spent nearly an hour out in the early morning cold, digging, digging, digging with your bare hands, until eventually, you found it, something that wasn’t a dog—not anymore, anyway.

Wrapped in a plastic bag you found it, decayed skin clinging stubbornly to yellowed ribs poking through like splintered wood. Its jaw hung open, snapped and crooked, patches of fur still clinging to the skull, matted until it resembled something more like melted plastic. There was a sense of grief that came with finding its body, a suffocating presence that weighed down over your little lungs, tightened your oesophagus, made your stomach clench.

You gave the rotting dog carcass a proper burial.

A grave by the oak tree, dirt pressed down gently over its brittle body as if the dog might still feel it, a ring of daisies set atop in remembrance. When you finally stood, wiping mud-stained hands on your pants, you could feel your mother’s eyes on you, her silence heavier than her words ever were.

After that, her patience thinned. She’d catch you whispering to empty rooms, her voice sharper each time, the snap of her voice was soon paired with the snap of a belt. The corners of your room were just corners, she’d say. The shadows were just that; shadows.

You stopped talking about it, but the flashes of something stayed—the fleeting movements, the whispers, the shadows that lingered in the corners of your vision. The haunting weight of it all clung to you like a thick blanket, creeping in with every bump in the night, until curiosity bled into something deeper.

Eventually, you gave up waiting and started searching, looking for answers between ghost-hunting forums and haunted houses.

And now, years later, you’re chasing a truth you’re still yet to prove.

You jolt from your thoughts the same time the van does over a potholed, eyes snapping to the stretch of dirt road before you. The homestead comes into view, your breath catches in your throat at the sight of it—looking every bit more eerie when bathed in hues of twilight than it did in the grainy two-bit photos on your laptop screen.

Luis lets out a low whistle from the driver’s seat, before he clicks his tongue and puts the car into park. “Well, we’ve seen worse.”

Luis says it with an air of carelessness you struggle to stomach under the looming shadow of the homestead. He’s never believed in the paranormal the same way you do, always the wind, always a shadow to him, everything has an explanation. Never a ghost, never a spirit.

Yet, he sticks with you, out of what sense of loyalty you’re not entirely sure, but you’re grateful all the same. Maybe it’s the remnants of a childhood bond that keeps him tethered to your side, echoes of sleepovers and whispered secrets, of nights spent laughing over nothing, long before you were chasing shadows and seeking the dead.

It’s not that Luis doesn’t care—he does, more than he’ll ever admit. He just doesn’t see the world the way you do. And that’s okay. He doesn’t have to believe. You do.

He slides out of the car easily, no doubt eager to unpack the camera gear. You hear the back of the van slide open, before you finally make the decision to move, feeling as if your bones have stuck themselves together—rigor mortis.

The homestead looks like it’s rotting from the inside out. Once-grand pillars holding up the front porch that have long since bowed, wood that rots and splinters from years of neglect. The windows, fogged over with dust, are cracked and warped as if the house itself has been trying to keep the world out for far too long.

“What even happened here?” Luis asks, eyeing the decayed structure with a grimace as the both of you step onto the creaking front porch.

In truth, the research had been thin. The house didn’t show up on any official ghost-hunting registry, and there wasn’t much mention of it in local history. But there were enough stories, enough pieces of something to make you believe it was worth the three hour plane trip.

If no one else could get proof, then maybe you could. This could be your big break, could be your skyrocket to supernatural stardom—If that was even really a thing.

“A lot. Murders, disappearances, all the fun stuff.” You joke, flashing a wide grin over your shoulder, trying to ease the pit in your chest, and find amusement at the way Luis shivers at the mention of murders. His shoulders stiffen enough to make you bite back a laugh.

Luis fixes you with a hard stare. “You’re not right, anyone ever tell you that?”

“Plenty of times,” you reply, grin only widening. You reach up and give his cheek a playful pat, “You’re not special.”

He rolls his eyes and you’re well aware he doesn’t buy your teasing, but that’s half the fun. You slip past him to check out the entryway, Luis trailing behind with his camera over his shoulder.

Luis keeps his distance as you wedge the door open. A thick layer of dust comes loose with the movement, swirling with the fading light and wafting straight into your face. You cough violently, waving it away with a grimace.

“This place gives me the creeps,” Luis mutters, adjusting the lens of his camera.

“Nothing’s going to happen—” And as if infuriatingly on cue, the door slips from your gasp and slams shut with a bone-rattling thud.

The both of you jump despite yourselves—Luis lets out a yelp that he stifles with a cough, while you freeze, hand still hanging in the air where the door had once been.

The silence that follows is deafening. You stare at the door for a beat, pulse-quickening as if it might just spring open again on its own, while you feel the burn of Luis’ gaze in the back of your neck, waiting for you to explain it away with your usual bravado.

You lower your hand slowly, give him a sidelong glance. You take a step back from the door as if daring it to open or slam shut again. “Well. That’s one way to make an entrance.”

Luis glares at you. “Yeah, real funny. Can we leave now?”

Rolling your eyes, you reach for the handle and tug the front door open again, choosing to ignore Luis’ insistence. The homestead is as quiet as you imagined it’d be, even so you can’t shake the eeriness of the silence. You swear you can hear static in your head.

Luis hands you a flashlight, which you flick on before toeing the warped floorboards. The wood groans beneath you, but it holds, so you plant your foot fully inside, waiting for the house to react. One second. Two.

Nothing.

With a relieved sigh you step deeper into the homestead. The pale remains of sunlight filter through grimy windows, while dust swirls lazily in the beam of your flashlight as you sweep it across the room.

“Are you recording?” You whisper over your shoulder to Luis, who gives a quick nod, a thumbs-up flashing in your periphery.

The homestead opens up around you—parlour to the left, kitchen and dining room through the door on the right, and a staircase, old and worn, curling up toward the shadows in the back.

“We’ll set up in the parlour,” you murmur, moving toward it. Your hand brushes against the wall as you reach for the light switch, fingers hesitant. You flick it, expecting nothing. But then the chain bulb overhead sputters to life, casting a weak, flickering glow across the room.

“Huh,” you breathe. “Not bad.”

Nightfall comes sooner than you would’ve hoped, and you’re starting to understand why there’s so little about this homestead online. In the two long hours you and Lewis have been here, the silence has remained unbroken. The EMF reader has not spiked once and the camera has picked up nothing. No doors have slammed, nothing has creaked strangely, not even an unsettlingly cold gust of wind.

Maybe this place is a waste of time, another dead end to add to your already growing list. You contemplate if packing the van up now is a good option. But yet, yet—you can’t shake the feeling that there is something waiting for you here, just beyond reach. A presence. A secret.

There’s still upstairs, a voice nags at the back of your head. Rooms yet to explore, yet to be turned inside out so you can find what’s hidden in the confines of this home’s brittle bones.

Luis follows behind as you carve a path up the stairs, flicking the stairwell light on and waiting for the flicker of the bulb to cease into a steady hum. It takes a moment too long, and your fingers twitch at the edge of your flashlight.

You never did shake your fear of the dark.

Upstairs, the floor is dappled in the pale glow of the moon. You sweep your flashlight through the shadows, the light catching on each warped surface, every peeling edge of wallpaper, casting lonesome shadows across the splintering floors. You watch the EMF reader calibrate and tick in your hand as you tread further down the hallway. The air up here feels heavier, like it’s holding its breath, waiting for you.

That’s when you see it.

Or him, rather.

At first, you make out nothing but a vague shape standing at the end of the hallway, a shadow where there shouldn’t be one.

But as your eyes adjust, you make out the figure’s skin; a sickly pale, marred with crawling veins like rivers of ink. He has hair like dull flaxen straw, eyes that are such a piercing blue you make them out even in the dark. You freeze, your breath catching in your throat as a chill crawls down your spine. You take a step back, stumbling into Luis, who nearly drops the camera.

The light overhead flickers dramatically before the bulb bursts with a sharp pop, plunging the hall into sudden darkness. Your EMF reader spikes violently in time with your heart slamming against your ribs, and in the panic, you scramble to bring up your flashlight—but as the beam sweeps over him, he vanishes, parts of his body disintegrating into the light, like bend the rules of physics themselves, like something wrong.

“Is that—?” it hits Luis the same time it hits you. Not a person. A ghost.

But there’s no haunting glow, no cloud of smoke. He doesn't float; in fact he doesn’t move at all. Instead, the air grows thick, an oppressive weight that threatens to shatter your ribs inwards and pierce into your lungs.

You hear him. The sickly sound of breathing, a rasping inhale followed by an exhale, like a death rattle. The noise crawls under your skin, itches against your bones.

Your own breath catches in your throat in favour of hearing his. The sound swells, crescendos, then tithers to nothing. Silence, like buzzing in your ears, is all that’s left behind. Slowly, you peel your eyes open, the ghost is nowhere to be seen.

You come back to reality like ungluing yourself from a fly trap—slowly, sticky, the numbness in your body ceases.

“Did you.. Did you get that on tape?” You ask Luis between bated breath, eyes still glued to the wall where he had been.

Luis swallows hard, his breathing ragged. He fumbles with the camera, fingers trembling, flipping through settings with a frantic sort of urgency. His face drains of colour as he checks the screen. The camera blinks, sputters.

Panic surges as you rush downstairs, tripping over your feet. Luis yanks the camera from his shoulder, flipping it open to review the footage. His hands move fast, flipping through buttons…

Then, the camera shuts off with a mechanical click, the small screen fading to black.

"No, no, no," Luis mutters, voice tight with frustration. He pulls out the tape reel, and the acrid smell hits you first. He stares at it, brow furrowing. You step closer, peering over his shoulder. The reel is ruined—burnt and blackened beyond recognition, as if scorched by something unseen.

Neither of you says a word.

“Sorry, we’re full.”

The words feel like a death sentence this late at night. Luis sighs sharply, his breath fogging up the plexiglass screen between him and the motel keeper. “There’s got to be something, no? Just one room,” he mutters, pushing the crumpled fifty across the counter one more time, almost pleading.

The motel keeper eyes the money, before shaking her head. “I’m serious, hon,” she says, her voice flat, tired. “We’re booked solid. You can try the highway if you’re desperate.”

You’re really only half-listening to the exchange, shivering from the cold as you lean by the side of the van parked under the carport.

The motel sign above flickers weakly, casting uneven shadows across the parking lot, the words The Black Dog barely legible in the failing neon glow. Cerberus snarls from the sign like a bad omen, one head flickering on and off as if it’s ready to give up entirely.

After the encounter at the homestead, neither Luis nor yourself could shake the feeling of dread that had settled like a thick fog, a weighted blanket that provided more unease than comfort. The decision to leave for the night had been easy, but now, standing outside in the frigid air, you’re starting to feel the sting of bad luck. There are only two motels in this entire town—one’s closed for maintenance, and this one, The Black Dog, is fully booked.

Luis pulls back from the counter with a groan, stuffing the money into his pocket as he joins you outside. “No luck,” he mutters, breath curling in the chilled air.

But you're distracted, focused on the yellowing photographs lining the walls behind the motel keeper’s desk, town history captured in fleeting moments behind dusty glass. Your eyes widen in realisation when you note the homestead is in one of them. A farmer’s family stands at the front of it; a husband, a wife, his daughter and two sons.

You quickly rush up to the window, leaning down closer to the little cutout in the plexiglass as you rest your elbows on the counter. “That photo,” You start, finger pressed to the plastic surface, “do you know who the people in it are?”

The motel keeper swivels in her squeaky office chair, her eyes widening with a sort of realisation. “Them? Well they’re the original settlers of this land,” She hums, turning back. “Their family were the first to come this far east, their father built that homestead with his bare hands.”

“What happened to them?” You ask, your curiosity piqued. Desperate for more, desperate for answers. Although, your ghost looks nothing like any of the men in the picture.

“Well they died,” The motel keeper says, something akin to god-fearing in her voice. “But whatever malevolent force has been haunting that place never did.”

You stare at her, wide-eyed and unblinking. Luis fills in for you where you can’t.

“You’re not serious,” he says, but it comes out more like a question than a statement.

“Dead serious, hon. That place is no good. They say the prairie wind drove that family mad—” she states, sticking a thumb over her shoulder to point to the picture “—we’re just not so sure it was the wind that did it.”

You decidedly spend that night in the back of the van, parked right outside the homestead on that old gravel path.

The wind whistles terribly and you begin to understand what they mean by prairie fever—you can’t fathom what it would’ve been like, out here, all alone with nothing but the wind and the wolves.

“Something’s wrong,” Luis murmurs just loud enough for you to hear. You turn your head, watching as he stares at the ceiling of the van.

There is a sudden unease that settles in your chest, watching him like this. Luis has never been rattled by the dark, never questioned the supernatural because he didn’t have a reason to. In many ways, he has been your anchor.

And what is a ship without its anchor?

You hum, mirroring his movements and righting your neck to stare up at the ceiling. “Luis, you say this every—”

“No, I mean it.” He cuts in, a certain urgency to his words. “We saw something, I saw it. He was–” His words die, fizzle into nothing on his tongue as if it’ll be a sin to refer to the shadow as anything more than just a shadow. “We can’t go back in there.”

You understand… yet you don’t.

“This is the closest we’ve ever been Luis, what do you mean we can’t?” Your words are oddly calm despite the desperation they clearly convey, “You know how much this means to me.”

Luis sighs, “I get it, I’m just not sure this is a good idea.” He hesitates. “I think… I think we’re way in over our heads this time.”

“I’ll be careful. I promise.”

Luis holds you to it.

A car crash—that’s what you see in your dream. Although, it feels more like a vision; a premonition or maybe a memory.

You’re trapped behind your own eyes, sitting rigid in the passenger seat. There’s the sound of tyres screaming against the asphalt, a horrible blur of red and blue, glass and smoke.

The car swerves hard, jerking your body with it, weightless, floating, falling. The ground falls away, and for a split second, there’s nothing. Just the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.

You try to catch a glimpse of the driver, but your eyes are glued to the chaos that unfolds before you. You catch a glimpse of the side of his face, shadowed in the flickering lights. Just the curve of his jawline—sharp, familiar.

And then you slam into a tree.

The night is much less forgiving than day. In moonlight, your mind is left to fill in the gaps, pulls at the seams of reality, and paints over it with every fear you’ve ever had the cowardice to bury. A creak in the floor becomes footsteps. A sigh of wind becomes a distant cry.

But daylight? Daylight spills over the horizon like a gentle promise. In daylight, things feel explainable. Safe. You do not falter and question the shape of shadows, each one is tethered to something, tangible and real, solid in your grasp.

Yet the homestead does not follow these rules.

The walls bleed with secrets you’ve yet to learn, each groan of the floorboards underneath your gentle footsteps sounds like another pair is following closely behind. Light spills through windows, but it dies before it reaches the corners, and does not fill the room the way it should.

It’s that morning, one hour into your second investigation, that you smell it—something faint at first that quickly grows stronger, souring the air with each breath you suck in. It’s familiar but unwelcome, the unmistakable stench of decay. Luis notices it too, his nose wrinkling as he glances toward the far end of the hallway.

“Do you smell that?” he asks, his voice quiet.

You nod.

The smell rots. It festers the further you walk down the hallway, intensifying until it clings to you like a second skin. It seeps through the floorboards, through every crack in splintering wood, and it leads you to a door. The one at the end of the hallway from the night before. The one you didn’t manage to open because he had been there.

Luis nudges you with his elbow. “Ladies first.”

“Very brave,” you mutter, pushing the door open.

Inside, the room is cold, the air heavy with dust. Yellowing and peeling wallpaper lines the walls, a dusty bed in the corner, a dresser by the opposite wall and a wardrobe by the adjacent one.

But what draws your attention are the walls—every inch covered in horrifying jagged scratches, as if something had clawed at the walls in a frenzy of desperation.

N-O-E-L.

The letters are scrawled over and over, the same pattern repeated a millennia of times. They twist and turn, written backwards and mirrored, as if whatever had left them behind had longed for a voice it had forgotten how to use.

“What the hell…” Luis murmurs, stepping closer with his polaroid camera, the shutter sounding as he snaps a few photos of the scratches. “What are we dealing with, the ghost of Christmas past?”

You swallow, admittedly now confused. “What does that even mean?” You muse, walking towards a wall and running your fingers over the splintering wood.

“His name, maybe?” Luis supplies, lifting his head from behind the camera.

Without thinking, you speak. “Is your name Noel?”

Silence answers.

You decide to move around the room, keen to find answers where your ghost refuses to give them to you. Your fingertips grazing the walls as if you could pull the truth from the cracks in the old plaster.

“I know you did this,” you say, your voice firm but edged with a strange softness, like you��re coaxing something fragile from the dark. “Why won’t you tell me your name?”

The lights flicker. Luis begins to pray.

The stench grows, grows, grows, more potent with each step you take towards the bed. You fear you’ll find rot when you pull the covers back—a body, perhaps. But what you find confuses you more. You fall to your knees by the bed, crane your neck to peer beneath it, and your eyes catch the glint of silver.

Your hand stretches out, inching under the bed as your teeth catch your lip. When you pull the object free, you look up at Luis, who meets your gaze with the same confusion. In your hands you hold a hunting knife.

And as quickly as it had come, the stench subsides.

You turn the knife over in your hand as you push yourself off the dusty floor, a strange emblem is etched into the heel of the blade.

“Well that’s not weird at all,” Luis mutters, taking the knife from your hand to inspect it himself. You bite the inside of your cheek, about to say something more, when a faint creak draws your attention. The wardrobe. The door swings open, as if nudged by an unseen hand. You meet Luis’ wary gaze, your heart thrumming with anticipation.

Drawn like a moth to a flame, you rise to your feet, walking closer, pulling the door open by its rusting brass handle. Inside hangs a tarnished mirror, and in it you catch your own reflection—dark circles ring your eyes, your reflection looks as drained as you’ve begun to feel.

Luis hums over your shoulder, a spark of realisation lighting his expression as he clicks his tongue. “Not Noel, look.”

You squint into the mirror, making out the jagged inscriptions in the wall that are now mirrored. “Leon?”

There’s a knock on the wall behind you, too loud to be mistaken for the walls of the house adjusting.

“Is that a yes?” You breathe.

Two knocks.

Luis stares at you, his voice hushed, disbelieving. “Are you talking to a ghost?”

“Holy fuck, I’m talking to a ghost.”

Your ghost isn’t as terrifying with a name to its haunt. Leon, you’ve come to find, is gentle. You and Luis have spent the past three hours communicating with him; knock once for yes, twice for no. A language of patience.

You’ve been documenting it all in your notebooks—entry after entry of everything you’ve learnt. It's all you can do, considering the tapes you’ve tried to record burn out. You figure he doesn’t like the notion of being seen. Being known is different, though. You can feel that—he wants to be known.

He cannot leave.

He doesn’t remember how he got here.

He knows only his name.

You find he also likes to move things.

First, it was the photos. Luis had left the polaroids from the bedroom out on the dining room table to develop, safe with the windows drawn. You’d found them around the house later, one in your bag, another nestled between the equipment. Harmless. Cute, almost.

Then Leon started to move bigger objects. Your torch was found in the bedroom closet, Luis’ lighter in a kitchen cabinet, your hairpins scattered like breadcrumbs on the mantle of the fireplace. It’s a game to him, one that you find yourself eager to indulge.

You slip into the kitchen, carrying a small wooden figure you’d picked up from the general store—nothing too special, a simple carving of a bluebird. Ghostly fingers might appreciate the weight of its worn edges, you think.

“Alright,” you say aloud, speaking to the empty room, “I – uh, got you something.”

You place the bluebird on the dining table, straightening the figure before taking a few gentle steps back. The temperature in the room drops suddenly, a chilly cold that you no longer mistake for the prairie wind, a denseness in the air that can only be explained by experience.

Your EMF reader ticks up, and you itch to jot down the reading, yet the moment you turn your back, there’s the sound of wood scraping against wood. You spin back on your heel, only to see that the little bird has moved, facing the window with its beak pointed towards the fading sunlight.

“So you like the bird then?” You nearly laugh, low and under your breath.

There’s another scrape, this time longer. The bird moves again, right before your eyes, closer to the edge of the table.

Despite the absurdity of it all, you continue to talk. “Careful, you’ll knock it off.” You warn softly.

For a moment, nothing happens. Then the bird stops just short of tipping over the edge, as if Leon has taken your words into consideration. You watch as the bird drags back across the table to the centre.

The lights flicker with your laughter, as if your ghost finds amusement in the cadence of your voice.

You begin to wonder how anyone could’ve thought this home was malevolent at all. The unease that had come with your first encounter has long since given way to something deeper—an ache, a yearning, a quiet desperation to understand. You don’t want to leave. You want to stay, to uncover every secret this house holds.

How did he die? Was it peaceful, or something violent? What kind of life did he lead? Did he love? Did he lose?

You sit on the living room floor, your back pressed against the wall, clicking your pen twice as you jot down tonight’s meeting in your notebook. From the wall beside you, two soft knocks answer in return.

There is a difference between an architectural haunting and a hereditary one. There’s a certain comfort in knowing a haunting is bound to a place, that its roots lie deep within the dirt that make up the home’s foundation. That it cannot follow you home.

But when a haunting becomes hereditary—when it latches onto you, burrows under your skin, sinks its claws into your soul, twisting, festering—when it’s tethered to you, that's when the fear takes hold. You cannot outrun a hereditary haunting.

Last night, you dreamt again. The homestead, its walls bleeding dark and thick, like wounds seeping into your memory. The flashes came in fragments: the house, the woods, a clearing bathed in moonlight. A glint of a knife to match the gleam of his eyes. And then, the sensation of cold mud pressed against your skin as you lay in the dirt, helpless, hopeless, dead.

You wake in the middle of the night and wonder when this haunting stopped feeling architectural.

Luis finds you on the third day in the parlour, your fingers curled around the edge of an old, weather-beaten box. It drags across the warped floorboards with a groan, sending up a small cloud of dust.

He pauses in the doorway. “What are you doing?” His voice cuts through the otherwise quiet home.

“Cleaning up.” You keep your eyes on the box, focused as you rifle through its contents.

Luis steps further into the room, his boots crunching on the debris-strewn floor, nearly tripping over the marbles you had laid out earlier for Leon to move. “Cleaning up?” His brow furrows. “Jesus, I thought we were here to investigate.”

“We are,” you mutter, your hands brushing off the dust clinging to your clothes as you turn to face him. “I’m just helping out.”

“Helping out?” Luis stops mid-step, his confusion sharpening. “Helping the ghost?”

Your hands still. The air shifts, colder than before, almost as if something is standing beside you. You glance over your shoulder, but it’s just Luis, a mix of disbelief and frustration in his gaze.

“Yes, Luis,” You sound annoyed now. Tension thick in the air.

His laugh is short and bitter. “This is crazy,” he mutters, his voice rising slightly. “You’re growing too - too attached, we need to leave.”

“No.” You straighten up, the words more defensive than you intend. “He needs help. Look at the state of this place!” You gesture to the peeling wallpaper, the broken furniture scattered, the oppressive sense of neglect.

“He?” Luis tries to be your voice of reason, tethering you back to reality, to the here and now because currently you seem like you’re in a different plane of existence entirely.

“Yes, he.” You drag the box into a corner, your back to him, and run your hand across its lid. The texture feels wrong—too damp, too cold, as if the cardboard itself is rotting from the inside. “He’s trapped here,” you murmur, more to yourself than to Luis. “I don’t know how long, but... it’s been years. He doesn’t even have anyone to mourn him.”

Luis exhales sharply, his breath fogging the air. When did it get so cold? “You don’t know that,” he snaps, his voice louder, louder, louder. “You don’t even know who ‘he’ is!”

The words hit you like a slap. Something shifts, as if the chain binding his anchor to your ship has snapped and broken all at once.

“I’m not—” You stop, swallowing the words. “I’m not crazy, Luis.”

You can see the flicker of regret in his eyes, the way his expression softens, but it doesn’t erase the sting of his words. He hesitates, lowering his voice as if it could take back the hurt.

“I didn’t say that,” he murmurs, “But you’re not thinking straight. You haven’t been since that night. The ghost—or whatever it is—has you hooked. And you don’t even see it–”

Each word feels like a knife twisting deeper. The betrayal coils inside you, bitter and raw. You trusted him to believe in you, to see you, even when no one else did. You open your mouth to argue, but your ghost has better timing.

A sudden, violent knocking echoes through the house, an urgency to each rap. This time, it’s not coming from within the walls, and oddly, that unsettles you more than if it were. The sound pounds from the front door, growing louder, louder, louder with each second that passes. When both you and Luis rush to the foyer, you stare blankly as the door handle rattles on its own.

You don’t think when you walk forward, as if compelled by an unseen force, your hand wrapping around the crystal handle before twisting it and tugging it open. There, crumpled on the porch, lies a bird.

It’s ruined. Feather slicked by a sheen of its own blood, some still fluttering in the wind, others matted to exposed bone. The body is split open, like something had torn it apart with its bare hands, its innards spilt on the rotting boards. Thin ropes of intestine, wet and glistening, loop over themselves.

The head, nearly severed, hangs at a grotesque angle, twisted so far back it looks as though it were straining to see something beyond its reach, connected by just a thin sinew of flesh. One of its glassy black eyes remains open, dull and lifeless, its beak parted in a scream that never came.

The bird has blue feathers. A bluebird, you realise.

Leon doesn’t speak much the rest of the day—if you can qualify the knocks and the flickers of light as speech at all. When you ask him about the bluebird, there's only silence. When you press him on whether he caused it, a vase shatters like fallen stars at your feet.

Perhaps he’s not all gentle. Neither are you, though, so you give him grace. You pick up the shards of glass one by one, wrap them up in a handkerchief, and discard them in the garden.

It’s only when you return inside that you realise you’re bleeding. A thin line of red trails from the split in your thumb, the sting arrives after, delayed but insistent. You watch it drip, swirling with the water as you rinse it away, the crimson draining down the sink.

You’ve grown used to seeing Leon in your periphery. His shadow is a presence that has grown comforting. Unknown to know, unfamiliar to familiar. You find yourself looking forward to the night even more now, eager for a glimpse of him. But tonight, he doesn’t visit.

You think you might’ve upset him. Between the dead bird and the silence, maybe he didn’t like all the arguing, how loud the house had gotten today. You don’t blame him.

“Luis wants to leave tomorrow,” You hum softly into the darkness. You don’t need to see Leon to know he’ll be listening. “I have to go with him.”

Silence.

“I’ll miss you,” You try again, your voice holding a sense of urgency. Please, please, please.

Again, silence.

You ignore the tears that prick at your eyes, upset that your ghost is ignoring you. You fall asleep with a headache and a heartache to match. But when you dream that night, it’s much more alarming than any of the ones before.

You wake in the darkness, your body stiff in your dream like you’ve lost your flesh and have been made up of bones. Rigor mortis once more. For a second you think this might be some sort of horrible sleep paralysis,but before the panic can set in, your eyes focus on the cracks of light in your vision, seeping through the darkness of your mind.

You’re not sure what part of your brain comes to the conclusion, but you realise you’re stuck under something, in something maybe. A coffin? Something wooden. You can smell the musk of the cottonwood.

When you wake from the dream, your headache is pounding twice as hard, you sit up, groaning as you press a hand to your head. When your eyes open, your breath catches in your throat.

Leon.

He's there. Right there.

Closer than he’s ever dared to get, standing beside your bed, watching, waiting, like he always is. Yet, he looks more solid, more here than you’d ever seen of him before. You could make out the shape of his nose, the curve of his eyes, the length of his lashes.

Your heart beats wildly in your chest, bated breath caught in the cavern of your throat as you try to comprehend what you’re seeing.

“Leon,” you whisper his name, your voice shaky, barely more than a breath.

He doesn’t move, but his eyes soften, just slightly, a weight behind his gaze that you can’t quite place. You watch his chest rise and fall with breath that should not be there, lungs that have no reason to expand, a heart that doesn’t beat. And yet, yet, he is here, in front of you, as vivid as anyone else would be.

You lift your hand, your fingers trembling as they hover just above his cheek. You know he isn’t real, not in the way you are, but in this moment, he feels real enough. The heat of your skin, the cool air between you—it all blurs together until the only thing you are sure of is him.

Slowly, carefully, your fingertips brush his skin.

It is faint—barely a touch at all, like reaching through fog—but it is there. For a second, maybe less, his skin feels solid beneath your fingers, cold but tangible. The breath catches in your throat as your hand lingers, the boundary between life and death blurring, blurring, blurring. His eyes flutter closed.

But then, just as quickly, the sensation is gone. Your fingers slip through air, the chill of the room returning, and he is nothing more than a ghost again.

No, no, no your mind screams. A desperation in the way you reach for him again only to feel nothing. A hand over his chest is merely a hand in mid-air. You cannot feel the beat of his undead heart.

Yet, the weight of his gaze remains, heavy with something you cannot name. You want more. You want him to stay. You want to stay.

Leon’s lips part, the faintest hint of a breath escaping, and you swear you can almost hear him say something. Almost. His hand twitches, as if he is also trying to reach for you, but can’t quite cross the divide.

It is unbearable, the way you see him see you.

You don’t tell Luis of what happened last night, refuse to unravel the complexities of the ache in your being that cannot be satiated anymore.

It’s not pain exactly—at least not the kind Luis would understand. It’s deeper than that, a longing you can’t explain. You’re stuck here, you realise, tethered not by chains but by something far less visible, yet much harder to sever.

Luis frowns when you tell him to go without you, that you’ll follow in a day or two. He doesn’t believe you, not entirely. There is scepticism in the way he argues, but you don’t have much fight left anymore. Maybe there isn’t in him, either.

You’d promised yourself this was temporary—a few nights, maybe a week—just long enough to get the evidence you needed. But those days had unravelled into something else. You couldn’t say when you’d first realised you weren’t going to leave. Maybe it was when the lights began to flicker in time with your heartbeat, or when the chill of the air began to feel like a ghost of a touch on your skin.

There was no evidence to gather anymore. No story left to tell but this one.

And perhaps, you think, that’s always been the truth of you—this love of yours, spilling over the edges of your heart until it found something, someone, to hold onto. Living or dead, it didn’t seem to matter. Love for you has never needed a pulse, just a presence.

You walk through the homestead, the familiar creak of the floorboards beneath your feet, and find that the air no longer feels heavy. There’s no longer that crushing weight on your chest, no musk of decay hanging like a warning. You breathe, and for the first time, the house feels still.

"Leon?" you call, your voice fragile, unsure.

The lights flicker in response, faint and distant.

Maybe, you think, this house has always been your grave.

likes n reblogs r very much appreciated <3

#it's DONE. FUCKING FINALLY #and once again - catch the horror movie references for a gold star #amber's haunted prairie party!#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy fanfiction #resident evil fanfiction #leon s kennedy #event! ₊˚⊹♡#spilled ink ₊˚⊹♡#sweeterthanficstion

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mayhemories · 2 years ago

Note

Neteyam x readers kids to lovers eventually, before WOTW bc I carnt handle his death

Eywa, A Sign

Ohhh it kills me, I love this boy. He died for what? Pandora Jesus better resurrects him next time, or I will have words with Mr Cameron. Not sure if I did your request justice, hope I did <3

Pairing: Neteyam Sully x Reader (James Cameron’s Avatar)

Requested: Yes | No

Warnings: None? Just straight fluff. Reader is an orphan trope/parental death. Mentions of death.

Words: 1.58k

Author’s Notes: Neteyam is roughly 18/19 here, Reader is 18, Lo’ak and Kiri are 17, and my girl Tuk is still the same. Set before Way of the Water.

Please note that the reader utilises she/her pronouns. If you’d prefer male or gender-neutral pronouns in fic I’m more than happy to repost a male or gn version of the story, otherwise include any pronoun preferences in the request box!

Read below the cut

Many Na’vi died following Toruk Macto. Either due to the impact of the battlefield violence or, their wounds upon return to their clan. Your parents, two brave Omatikaya warriors, died at the hands of the Sky People during a routine raid on supply shipments.

Jake and Neytiri were quick to take you under their care, love and protection. Practically becoming one of their own. Being a few months younger than Neteyam and a year older than the twins, Kiri and Lo’ak, you slipped right in.

Jake was never afraid to reprimand you like you were his own, either. Like the time you were twelve, Lo’ak eleven:

“Now what did I tell you two?” Jake had you and Lo’ak lined up against the wall of the clan stronghold, sprung by the Olo’eyktan from the moment you came sneaking back in after curfew.

“Don’t be in the forest after eclipse-” You and Lo’ak mumbled under your breaths, knowing that Jake wouldn’t let up.

“Yes! That’s right, don’t be in the forest after eclipse!” he said, exasperated, holding his hands above his head, dragging them down across his face. “And where were you two knuckleheads?” His face was annoyed, though his eyes were soft. We were his kids, god forbid anything happened to us.

“Look dad (y/n) had nothing to do with it, it was all me-” Lo’ak started, but you finished,

“Sir, Lo’ak didn’t want to go, I wanted to go.” You and Lo’ak shared a small smile, he was your brother, through and through.

Jake shook his head, hands on hips.

“Go, go, both of you. Wash up.” He was stern, but as you two skxawngs ran past him you saw the gentle smile lay on his lips.

As you got older you noticed Jake becoming harder and harder on his boys. For whatever reason Lo’ak almost gave up on pleasing Jake, felt like he could never be enough for him, a spec of dust compared to Neteyam’s glittering gold. Maybe that was why, why he was so impulsive and reckless, consistently. Any attention being good attention for Lo’ak. Regardless of his intentions, you liked that about him. He encourages your sense of adventure like a brother should, was always there to catch you when you fall. Neteyam and Lo’ak were different sides of the same coin, both living to please Jake in one way or another. Jake saw himself in Lo’ak and that scared him, you knew that,

But Neteyam…shit, Neteyam.

You always saw Neteyam differently. As kids, he felt too cool for you to be around. This developed over time as you, yourself developed. As you felt awkward and out of place in your body, tail giving away every thought and feeling, Neteyam got taller, got broader, got sweeter. As an awkward teenager, your little soft spot evolved into a full-blown crush. You kept it under wraps sure, Lo’ak teasing you here and there but he never thought anything serious of it. Shit, you tried not to think anything of it. He was the future Olo’eyktan, he was the future of the clan.

Now, freshly eighteen you were considered a woman: A relatively fierce Ikran rider, bow made from wood of the tree to replace the Hometree that was lost to the Sky People, a hunter. You surpassed any ritual trail of clan-life easily, save for one. Save for probably the most important one.

Finding a mate.

So, here you were, kneeling on the beautiful deep green moss surrounding the base of the Tree of Voices. The tree was glowing purple, fading to a light pink and back again, streaks of white travelled up and down the tendril of the tree, where you’ve made the bond. The hum of the ancestors created a white noise in you mind, helping to create a true vision. Praying to Eywa always gave you a sense of calm, like all anxieties were being blown right through your body, energy settling itself back into the world.

“My dear All-Mother Eywa, I come to you now for guidance, for advice.” You started, clamping your eyes shut to encourage any kind of vision, so that you may see into the realm beyond that of physical sight.

Neteyam knew it was wrong, to listen to your private prayers with Eywa. But he did not make a move to leave his advantageous spot, hidden amongst trees and rocks, he could watch you freely. His whole life felt like it revolved around you, and your alluring presence, strong heart, strong mind.

Neteyam officially became a man the year prior, it was expected of him as the future clan leader to have already chosen a woman. And, in some ways he had. It had always been you, it was always you. Neteyam loved you, and it was never as a sister as Lo’ak has. When you were children you would play family. Neteyam was the dad, you the mum, Kiri and Lo’ak the kids. Neteyam knew from a young age that he didn’t want to play family with anyone else.

He assumed Neytiri always knew, too. She never pressured him in claiming a mate, or even talking about it. Jake, well he was less switched on when it came to Neteyam’s shy nature. He was always pestering Neteyam about it-

Jake had flown Neteyam and himself to a floating mountain so that him and his first born son could speak freely: “Look, I’m not even saying you have to mate straight away! But at least court someone Neteyam, you’re the future of this clan-” Jake started, but for the first and last time in his life, Neteyam cut his father off.

“I am waiting for (y/n)!” Neteyam yelled, holding the bridge of his nose, anticipating that Jake would come back with a raised voice as he most often did. It did not come. Instead Jake closed the distance between him and his son, wrapping his arms around his beautiful baby boy, who wasn’t a baby anymore. Neteyam loosened, wrapping his still lanky arms around his father. With his chin resting on Neteyam’s head, Jake chuckled:

“Well then, wait for her as long as you need.”

“I love her.” Neteyam admitted quietly.

“I know you do, kid.”

Neteyam shook the memory from his mind, and focused back on your kneeling, praying figure in front of him.

“My mother Eywa, what am I to do?” You felt exasperated, lost. “I… I am afraid that the one I love does not love me Eywa.”

Neteyam’s chest tightened, although he always knew it was a possibility that you may not want him, he tried his hardest swaying anyone else’s decision in the matter. The glares he had sent to all the young na’vi during their teen years, and at your own ceremony of womanhood, Neteyam made it clear with growls and possessive hovering that he was waiting for you. Although, maybe he could’ve made it clearer to you.

“Great Eywa please, please show me a sign that Neteyam and I will be named mates.” you whispered, scared to admit his name in the scenario, aloud.

Neteyam felt like he could vomit. He slowly approached you, kneeling beside you, as if he were beginning to pray, himself.

You could feel his heat, his being as he sat down, you didn’t need to open your eyes to confirm. Besides that, you could feel all the blood drain from your body and rush back up to your cheeks and ears. Clearing your throat, you decided that this was a good a sign as any.

“Neteyam” You opened your eyes, his beautiful warm honey ones already locked on your face, “how much of that did you hear?”

Neteyam hung his head in shame, shaking some of his braids from their resting places, blood rushing to his cheeks.

“I am so sorry, I know I shouldn’t have listened to your private words spoken with Eywa.” Neteyam spoke softly, like he always did with you. “But I could not help it, especially knowing you have not chosen a mate yet.” Neteyam spoke around a lump in his throat, “I needed to know why.”

Your mind was rushing a million miles per minute. But fake bravado was something that Lo’ak taught you, and something you could hide behind.

“You know, you haven’t chosen anyone either. My ceremony was last week, yours was last year.” You said, catching his eye again, with a slight smile on your lips. Neteyam laughed. Shit, you loved that sound. You could die happy now, hearing his laugh.

“I have chosen,” your stomach dropped at his words, though sensing your anxiety Neteyam wove one of his hands with yours, and pinned you to the spot with his warm eyes. “I just had to wait a year for her to choose me too.”

And all at once it felt like Eywa had breathed life into you, and Neteyam. Like your soul was made of milk and honey and you were going to flow on forever.

You kissed him, your hands cupped his beautiful face, his slender fingers settling on your waist, nestling between beads and cloth.

He came out of the kiss laughing, needing air. You let out a laugh too, keeping your foreheads together.

“I see you.” You whispered, still scared that if you speak too loud this dream will dissipate into the colours of Pandora’s jungle, floating away from you entirely.

“I have only ever seen you,” Neteyam said, smiling. His silver freckles set alight from the glow of the Tree of Voices.

Happiness was simple.

#avatar twow #avatar 2022 #avatar 2009 #avatar #neteyam x reader #neteyam #neteyam sully #jake sully #neteyam sully fluff #loak #loak x reader #loak x reader platonic #jake sully x reader #jake sully platonic #jake sully domestic #avatar domestic

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i-2hoon · 6 months ago

Text

enhypen & their kinks

pairings ᱖ enhypen x gn!reader (implied male)

warnings ᱖ explicit content, implied male reader but mostly gn, some slightly concerning dynamics (power dynamics etc), descriptions of certain kinks, breeding, mentions of fwb/non-committal relationships, anything i forgot..

important notes ᱖ hello everyone naku here. sorry for not responding to a lot of requests, unfortunately i do not have the energy to write full fics. i will get to them eventually but not too soon, so heres this while you wait! in the meantime, please please PLEASE suggest prompts for drabbles, reactions, or headcanons!

heeseung 이희승 : possession

this is rather niche, however i imagine heeseung is a possessive man. regardless of whether you two are in a committed relationship or a weird non-committal friends with benefits type relationship, it doesnt matter. the quickest way to get him riled up is to moan his name while making out, or to tell him that you only think of him. the confirmation that only he makes you feel this good is just an ego boost—and a libido one too. one mention of how you belong to him, and his dick is hard all over again. this causes him to enjoy smaller things: marking you, scratches down his back, moans and whispers of his name, pda, etc etc.

jay 박정성 : dollification

another perhaps niche one. whether youre a guy or a girl, jay simply has a thing for dressing you up and fucking you dumb. wear pretty lingerie for him (particularly in pastel colors) and youve got him fucked up. he enjoys doing small acts of service such as helping you tie your shoes, or brushing your hair for you. it only makes it better when he can do these things knowing hes going to ruin them at the end of the night. of course, he acknowledges that youre an independent person and he loves that as well. however, when it cones to your sex lives, he loves the control he has when he teases or fucks you brainless to the point youd do everything he asks.. or, even better, you cant do anything for yourself.

jake 심재윤 : breeding

now this one is a bit more classic, and a pretty common idea. however i think that jakes biggest kink is breeding. especially when he doms, he adores seeing the mess hes made of you flushed, covered in his cum, and barely able to breathe. you mention fucking raw? his pants are already somewhere across the room before you could finish that sentence. one of his favorite things to do is finish inside you, whispering how pretty you look as he pushes any that escapes back into you with two fingers. solely to tease you, hed lick his fingers afterwards; the taste of you mixed with himself makes him melt within your grasp. its not even the idea of you being pregnant or anything of the sort, assuming that that in itself is most likely impossible. he just loves seeing you marked in his own special way: his cum leaking out of you with a blissed out expression on your face.

sunghoon 박성훈 : choking

i think that power dynamics in general are sunghoons biggest turn ons, but impact and choking are the quickest ways to get him to completely lose himself in front of you. whenever sunghoon subs or bottoms, he tends to be a bit more of a brat. theres one way to shut him up: wrap your fingers around his neck. the lack of oxygen and the sudden demand for control would have his head spinning. sunghoon is in general a huge fan of such dynamics, whether he subs or doms doesnt even matter at that point. just know that if you two are fighting for dominance in any way, his hand is quick to be around your throat. and knowing him? he tends to lack self-control like this, and would leave a hand-shaped bruise that lasts for days. if you did the same to him, hed show it off for weeks.

sunoo 김선우 : exhibitionism

on the topic of showing off, we all know that sunoo enjoys bragging and showing off as he pleases. dont think that this wouldnt transfer into the bedroom too. he finds that one of the most enjoyable things is showing you off; this includes teasing you in public and driving you to a point of snapping. of course, he still has a bit of dignity to protect, but theres nothing like the thrill and ego boost of letting you drag him off to a bathroom in a restaurant. at the table, hed ghost fingers up your thigh and whisper only slightly suggestive things into you ear all night. he likes to drag it on as long as he possibly can, only saying subtle things to get your mind racing and leaving it a lot to your imagination. his head starts spinning when he notices the eyebrow raises and suspicious looks from others, and the thought of getting caught with his pretty boy wrapped so easily around his finger is truly one of his favorite fantasies.

jungwon 양정원 : spit

now im aware that ive mentioned him liking intimacy and slowness in other writings, but whats more intimate than spitting into one anothers mouths? its messy and dirty, but something about the intimacy and trust in it leaves jungwon more needy than anything. lick a stripe up his jaw and hes completely and entirely yours, even moreso if you spit in his mouth while the two of you make out. sometimes he wouldnt mind doing the same, especially if he finds himself more on the dominant end. he would leave wet open mouthed kisses all over your naked body and admire you with heart eyes as he sees your skin glisten in the dim lighting. a string of spit between the two of you after kissing? well fuck, now he needs to kiss you again with double the heat.

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mandowifey · 1 year ago

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i just read your miguel o’hara fic and it’s beautiful.

so i found out that when he bites his prey, his fangs have paralyzing venom and i was thinking about him being obsessed with reader who tries to ignore him, but eventually he becomes impatient and uses his venom on them and all they can do is moan and take him (with a sprinkle of breeding kink🤭).

sorry if this is too much and makes you uncomfy

WAH, thank you so much! ❤️

(Breeding kink is my fave kink, Id never be uncomfy) I've wanted to write this for him since learning about it, it's so...hot, HAHA.

P.s: this turned into arguably the longest Miguel x reader fic I have ever done 💀

× × ×

Dominion

Miguel O'hara x Fem!Reader

This is part of a nonlinear storyline.

Warnings; NSFW, extreme noncon/dubcon (reader is paralyzed from Miguel's bite), dark!Miguel, stalker!Miguel, PiV sex, unsafe sex, oral (f receiving), breeding kink, praise, taunting, general bad themes. Reader is a virgin in this.

× × ×

When Spider-man saved a bus full of children on a collapsing bridge, the world cheered. What the news outlets and fanatics fail to see are the people who are not rescued. Your family had been on the bi-monthly trip down state when the bridge had been attacked. They were one of the cars that went down with the initial rubble. There was no big heroic moment, no surprise rescue, or hero swooping in the last minute to save them all. On that day, you lost everyone you ever cared about and came to hate Spider-man.

Miguel O'hara understood a lot of things about this world. In fact, he understood a lot of things about a lot of worlds. There was synchronicity between the universes, such as Spider-man being the hero and getting the girl. What he failed to understand was how he couldn't get you.

It was a Thursday evening, and he was fighting Rhino in the open street. As the leader of the Spider-Society, Miguel didn't often get to run around and handle crime. Seeing an opportunity to release some frustration and get some air, he'd left Jess in charge to patrol the city. Cue, the bad guy showing up and their all-out, property destroying brawl. During the back and forth with his opponent, Rhino had picked up a small car above his head and chucked it. When Miguel dodged, the car hit the road, rolled, then skidded into a light pole as the engine burst into flames.

As he turned to lunge, he heard you.

Screaming, inside that car.

Duty to civilians was more important than apprehending a criminal. Still, he hesitated before, inevitably snarling and prowling towards the car. With his strength, Miguel lifted and shoved the pole to the side before he walked around to the front. Inside the glass was you. Small compared to him, bloodied from the glass and impact but still shouting. What confused him was the way your fearful expression twisted into a look of pure disdain once you two spotted each other. Regardless, he'd broken the windshield and pulled you out.

"You alright?"

Nothing.

Not a word.

As you wipe glass from your clothes, the masked crusader lingered in your presence, perturbed. Miguel did not do this for 'thank yous' and pats on the back for a job well done. He did it because, as a hero, it was the right thing to do. Certainly enough, people in the world hated him, and he could accept that. When you looked up at him finally, blood had run trails down your forehead and cheeks, painting you like some warrior of the macabre. The man wonders if the head injury had affected your brain.

"Go sit down, an ambulance is sure to be here."

Silence.

Miguel catches your eyes as they glint beneath flickering street lamps. There is something about the way you look at him that unsettles him. You stare at him as though you are judging his soul, like you could possibly know the wrongs he's done and lives he's lost. Anger blossoms within his chest, and he feels his muscles tense. This was not something he experienced around most citizens. After what feels like a decade passes between you, your eyes lower, and you turn away. Standing and watching, Miguel observes your limp as you hobble towards the sidewalk and sit.

Left to stand amidst the ruins of his run-in with Rhino, O'hara draws in a steady breath. Lyla pings, showing him the location of the villain, and he sets off to track him down. He found himself distracted by thoughts of you that night. Those burning, scornful eyes and those lips that pressed so tightly together.

The thoughts of you did not stop there.

Days of obsessing turned into weeks. Miguel had pulled your information from the local PD database and had started stalking you shortly after. He had learned your routines, your job, and where you liked to go out to eat with friends. You weren't busy during the work week and usually spent the weekends catching up on chores or TV shows. His favorite was perching in your fire escape and watching you do laundry. You were beautiful, oblivious too, and he liked that.

You two had a close call when he decided to get brave.

It was a late Saturday, and you had run out to the store last minute for some missing ingredients. Miguel had been watching your evening unfold and followed not far behind, even going as far as to track you inside the grocery. Mask-less, he loitered around shelves just in view and watched as you hurried around to grab eggs and flour. An older woman had pulled his attention, asking him if he could retrieve something from a high shelf for her. Though reluctant, he'd obliged, which had cost him his line of sight on you.

Urgently rounding a corner to attempt to locate you, Miguel hadn't been paying attention. Fate made you turn the same isle, and if not for his inhuman reflexes, you two would have collided. He stops himself just before impact and steps back while you gasp and touch your chest from being startled. "Sorry," you mutter, not bringing your eyes up to look at him. Miguel doesn't say anything as you skirt around him in a rush. He was frozen, having been so close to you and nearly caught in the act. You hadn't realized who he was and what he was doing, and that thrilled him.

After that day, Miguel decided he could wait no longer.

The next Friday, you were returning home from a late night at work. Clothes disheveled and eyes heavy, you fumbled to get your door unlocked and stepped into the dark. Before your fingers could brush the light switch, something hit you from the side and clapped over your mouth. You're aware of being attacked, and while your screams are muffled, you flail and kick and thrash, throwing your weight around to try and make it difficult for your assailant. His grip is like iron, and you hear him laugh, his breath fanning your neck. A drag of something warm and wet along your throat made you tense, and you scream suddenly as your flesh is punctured by teeth.

Miguel moans at the burst of blood across his tongue. You taste sweeter than he could have imagined, and he relishes your flavor. Closing his eyes, he releases his venom into your body while holding you into him. Your thrashing continued, even while the paralyzing agent pumped through your veins. He knew it wouldn't take long and indulged himself by withdrawing his teeth and sucking at the puncture holes they left. Blood smears across his lips, and he groans again, lapping at you like a starving animal. Miguel had imagined what you'd taste like, and this exceeded all expectations.

As you fell limp, Miguel licked his lips clean and scooped you into his strong arms. He'd been inside your home before, while you were asleep or away with work. Carrying you to the bedroom, he nudged the door open with his foot and placed you on top of your bed. Your eyes were closed, having fallen unconscious not long after he injected you. The man takes his time, propping your head up and removing your clothes until you are left in nothing but a tank top and underwear. Admiring his work, Miguel smiles to himself and steps away to give you time to wake up. He wanted you conscious for this.

When you woke, you were aware immediately that something was wrong. Your eyes stared across your room, darting around in your skull as the memory of being attacked came back to you. As you tried to sit up, you found that you couldn't. You utter a soft whimper, trying once again to raise your arms, but they only twitched and remained flat on the bed. Heart starting to pound, you look around and try to rationalize. This had to have been a bad dream, and you were stuck in some sort of sleep paralysis. Your eyes closed, and you drew in a shaking breath, telling yourself that if you fell asleep, it would be okay.

Everything was dark, save for the stripes of moonlight that stretched across your bedroom. Your door, wide open like a gaping, black mouth, and your closet door sealed shut. You felt unease build as you forced your eyes to the bedroom door again, then gasped. Red dots hovered six feet off the ground in the hallway. Transfixed, you didn't dare blink as the dots grew in size, coming towards you.

This had to be a dream.

This could not be real.

Slowly, a man emerges from the doorway and stops at the edge of your bed. His eyes red like coals, shoulders broad, and hips tapered. He was tall, brooding, and looked very real. The two of you stare at one another, unblinking. After a moment, his eyes lose their color, and his stoic demeanor breaks. Miguel was giddy. He couldn't deny it. A perfectly healthy young woman with a scent that told him you two were a perfect match genetically. He couldn't have been luckier.

A sound builds in your chest. You would be screaming if your mouth could move. The man before you raises his brows and smiles. "I wouldn't try it," He hums, "You're going to be like this for another couple hours. There is no need to panic. It will wear off and you'll be just fine." Lifting his large hands, he brings them to his chest. "I must say I'm a little offended. I knew certain folks didn't like me, but it appears you might even hate me." Miguel smirks into his words, giving you a glimpse of his fangs.

"I went through your phone." He tacked on. "I know it's rude, but I wanted to know you a little better. Y/N, works downtown, lost your family in a tragic incident where I couldn't save the day." His clothes rippled with light and slowly peeled away until he stood only in boxer shorts.

Horror seeps into your bones, and you cry. Tears dribble down your temples as you lay there at his mercy. Lips quivering, you try again to speak, but no words come. It slowly dawned on you that he had told you indirectly who he was. What happened to Spider-Man being the good guy? Nausea creeps inside your guts, a cold rush of dread rising under your skin. It shouldn't be possible, it shouldn't be real, but there he was.

Miguel wore a smile. He could observe the gears churning in your brain while you fought your own body. The smell of your feel was palpable to him, causing his other instincts to shudder. It had taken every ounce of strength not to feed on you, and now, with you limp and pliant, he could feel that familiar itch prickling up his spine. Luckily for you, he'd taken his injection not long before arriving in your home. With the other half tempered, Miguel had all the time in the world.

“Of all the people to be in their car that night, it just had to be you.”

Your fingers twitch as your brain screams. No matter how hard you tried or how loud your voice was in your head, your body was not listening. Helplessly watching him climb onto the bed above you, you close your eyes. Miguel sits back on his legs and places a large, warm hand on your shin.

“I guess fate always has a way of working out.” he prompted, pushing his fingers over your knee and gradually along your thigh. Your skin crawls, itching under his touch. You wanted nothing more than to break away and kick him for touching you. Miguel can sense it, his lips twitching in an impish smile. He could tell from your scent alone how afraid you were.

“I’m sure this isn’t how every girl imagines their first time going,” He continues, and your eyes fly open. Staring up at him, the color drains from your face and your heart begins to quicken. “Yeah, I figured.” Miguel hums impassively as his other hand touches your opposite leg and pushes it open. His dark eyes focused on the apex of your thighs. “But don’t worry, above all else I am still a gentleman.” Flashing his teeth, Miguel curls his fingers under your knees and folds you in half. The sudden movement makes you grunt and whine. “I’m going to take good care of you, princess.” You catch him as he winks before dropping his head down.

Miguel draws a slow breath above your cunt, savoring the heady aroma of your sex. As his mouth watered, he places a soft kiss at the tip of your crease over your panties. He hums and licks a slow stripe over you, drooling into the fabric as he caught the faintest taste of your pussy. “Just as I’d hoped,” he purrs.

You were revulsed, your eyes blurry with tears as you lay helplessly below him. Your body was betraying you now, and you could feel your clit engorging with blood from arousal and knew you were beginning to leak. Miguel knew too, and he places a series of firm kisses over your covered folds before turning his head and nipping at the fat of your inner thigh.

“Just relax and enjoy yourself. Most guys I know don’t even bother with this part.”

You can feel the fabric being pulled, then torn. It was an effortless motion on his behalf, using his claws to assist in shredding the unnecessary material. With your soft cunt now exposed, Miguel sighs, his breath fanning over you. He mumbles praise in Spanish, something you don’t recognize, before he delves in. Pushing the thick tip of his tongue forward, he prods your opening before shoving inside.

A cry smothered in your chest, feeling heat rising in your face. You hated him. You hated this, but your body wasn’t cooperating with you. Miguel moans, fucking the appendage inside your heat before suddenly lapping up your cunt in quick, successive motions. The flat of his tongue drags over your swollen clit and makes you squeak.

As you crumble, he latches his mouth around the sensitive bud at the peak of your folds and begins to suck gently. His attention to detail and willingness to make you feel good had you rising against your will. Your chest heaves again, another pitiful mewl trickling from your lips as he assaults your virgin cunt. Miguel was grinding against your blankets now, the bulge in his boxers painful.

Your scent had his blood pumping and desire growing. The fact that he would be laying claim to you first thrilled him enough to bring him to leak. As eager as he was, he kept his patience with working your body, wanting to see you fall apart under him knowing the man you spent years hating had made you cum.

Soft puling cries wept from your parted lips, your eyes closed in denial. You were being pushed closer towards the edge. The suction from his lips around your clit was perfect and he pulsed gentle sucks against it. Occasionally, you’d feel the press of his tongue on the underside of it, applying light pressure while his mouth continued to suckle you. Your clit was fully engorged now, and while you couldn’t move your thighs trembled as you grew closer. It was sick, degrading even, that you would ever cum from something like this. Miguel hears you gasp quietly, and he withdraws his lips to instead lap firmly at you with the flat of his tongue. Fast, firm licks that slipped over the sensitive bud that sent jolts through your abdomen and up your spine.

The venom rendered your mind in a haze, forcing you to live consciously aware of every grueling moment. Each lash of his tongue or rumble from his throat sending you hurtling towards your peak. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, yet your body paid your mind no heed. When his tongue rolled over your engorged clit, and was followed by a gentle suck, you fell. Even with the intensity of your orgasm, the most your body could do was tense its muscles. A cry squeaks out, along with a series of sharp, mewling gasps as you tremble and seize under him. Miguel laps you lazily now, vermillion eyes staring up at you between your legs. He had done it.

Now certain he had done his part in satisfying you, Miguel lifts and crawls up your body, peppering swift kisses to your skin as he goes. He hesitated, tugging your bra down your ribs to expose you to him. The words ‘please stop’ built in your throat, yet died on your tongue. You can only watch as his eyes grow heavy and his head drops to your breast. His tongue rolls over your nipples, causing them to pebble. Miguel’s spit goes from warm, to cold, shocking your skin and making you whine again. The worst part of it all was how good he managed to make you feel. You were aghast at the fact you had just cum for this lunatic, and hated the fact he acted like he knew your body, able to apply licks and kisses in places you weren’t aware that you liked.

After he satisfied his desire for your breasts, he kisses your collar and up your throat. Miguel is going slow on purpose; you know that now. He was relishing in the control he had over you, knowing that you wanted nothing more than to tell him to go to hell. Now hovering over your own, Miguel ghosts his lips against yours. “You’ve been such a good girl for me.” He purrs. “You sound so pretty when you cum, princess.” The smile that follows his filth tugs your stomach and fills you with embarrassment. Noticing your tears, Miguel tuts and kisses your forehead. “No need to cry, this part is easy. I’ll make sure to start slow.” The way you whimpered made the devil in him purr.

Miguel takes your legs and parts them as he sits back against his own. He enjoys the view of your spread form while he removes his boxers and tosses them on the floor. From the angle, you can see the spring of his cock. Fear makes you go cold at the sight. He was long, thick, bigger than anything you’d seen before. For a moment, you wonder if it were going to fit at all. Miguel closes a fist around his base and strokes himself twice as he lines up against you. “Big breath, kiddo.”

You realized too late that his venom that left you paralyzed had also weakened your muscles. When you tried to clench and fight his insertion, your body did nothing more than twitch. Smiling, Miguel nudges the fat, weeping tip of his cock into you and he grunts. “Dios-“he sighs, biting his lip while he trained his eyes in the spot you two connected.

“Look at you, taking me so well.” There is a flash of teeth as he edges himself inside. The stretch is excruciating, especially for your first time. Miguel’s cock was relentlessly thick, filling you to a capacity you didn’t know you had. Hearing the curling whimpers in your chest, he stops and looks down at you thoughtfully. “Almost there, you’re doing great.” You feel revulsed when he winks at you.

The venom kept your body relaxed, making it easier for him to violate you. As he eases inside, you see stars as he presses somewhere deep within you. Miguel’s pubic bone pushes against your swollen clit as he bottoms out, groaning salaciously at the squeeze of your cunt around him. His large hands find their way onto the back of your knees, and he guides one of your legs over his broad shoulder.

“I bet you thought it wouldn’t fit,” he taunts, smiling and biting his lip as he begins to slowly draw back. Miguel’s cock grinds every nerve in your canal, setting fireworks off beneath your skin and making you shriek and grunt in the back of your throat. You hated how full he made you feel.

With a firm jut of his hips, Miguel sinks inside of you and groans as your pelvises collide. He curses again, repeating the motion before lowering himself to cage your body under his own. “Take it,” He gasps, his head dropping to your neck. His breath pants across your skin, warming you further as he drives his cock home. The man begins to rabbit himself inside of you, using your pussy as he saw fit and throwing any concern for your lack of experience to the wind. It didn’t matter that you hadn’t had time to properly stretch, you were his now and meant to be taken. “G-good girl,” he pants, licking over the bruising bite mark he left on the nape of your neck. “S-so s-shocking good.” He laughs dryly, biting you once more without penetrating your skin. Pain blooms in your shoulder and you whine, your eyes closing as you see spots.

Miguel’s pace is relentless. He pounds into you with reckless abandon, bouncing your smaller body repeatedly up the bed and making your shitty mattress creak noisily. It felt as though the air was being forcefully shoved from your lungs, his cock spearing inside with such strength you think he may break your pelvis. The worst was the way he praised you, rumbling as you took him, calling you his good girl over and over. You were rising again, once more against your will as your attacker defiled you.

“That’s it, t-that’s it.” He gasps. Miguel was coming closer to the edge with each thrust, knowing he’d never be the same after this night; after finding you. He whimpers against your throat, the sound pathetic for a man with his strength. You see stars as he ruts sloppily, his thrusts uneven as he came apart above you. Ramming his cock to the root, the man shudders and growls, his muscle rippling as his cock throbbed and began to empty. The hot, heavy spurts of cum impacting and oozing against your cervix, coating your insides. While he slowed, his stomach pressed and ground just right against your clit, making you whimper much quieter this time. You throb, your eyes rolling back in your skull as you flutter and squeeze weakly around him. Miguel grunts again, then smiles impishly against your throat.

“Not so bad for a first time, huh?”

Sitting up, Miguel pecks a kiss to your lips before sitting back on his legs and casting his attention downwards. He watched as he began to withdraw from you, his cock coated in your joined fluids. There was a deeply sickening tremor of satisfaction as he watched his cum begin to dribble out. A part of him hoped his seed would take; he was certain you’d be just as beautiful with your belly swollen. You keep your eyes closed, not wanting to see his face. At least, you reason, it was over, and he would leave, and you could try to pick the pieces of yourself back up.

Miguel hummed, slipping off the bed and pulling on his boxers as he steals a look around your room. Once dressed, his suit reformed around his body in a glimmer of hard light. All but his mask. “Alright, let’s get you dressed and ready for the trip home.” Ice floods your veins and the nausea returned. Your eyes open and try to focus on him as the room begins to spin. “What? You thought this was just some random encounter?” His lips stretch into a smile as he holds his hands out. “First of all, I’m hurt, secondly, I’m going to try really hard to pack you some of your favorite stuff, I’ll supplement anything else you need.” Miguel hums as he walks to your closet in search of luggage containers.

Tears streak from your eyes and obscure your vision again. Your chest was so tight you felt certain you were going to break. He packs things for you while you panic, wanting to sob and beg him to leave, to apologize and tell him you were wrong about Spiderman. A sob escapes you as your chest shakes, your eyes closing again as you weep. Your body was sore, filled to the brim with this man’s fluids, and you knew you’d never be clean or safe again. Miguel glances at you from over his shoulder and smiles anyways.

You would learn to love him.

He just knew it.

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mothwingwritings · 6 months ago

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Animal Magnetism

F!Reader X Yujiro Hanma (Omegaverse AU)

Well folks, here is my first ever attempt at a true Omegaverse fic. I wanted to start out with something little to get a feel for it, but since I don’t know how to chill it ended up being a bit longer than anticipated. ^^; I’m still getting the hang of it all, but I hope you enjoy it regardless! Thank you so much for reading!!!

Also, I have a rather busy end of May-June coming up, so I’m not sure how much I will be able to write and update during that time. I apologize in advance. That being said, I wrote this pretty fast and edited it even faster so that I could get it out before I get swamped, so I apologize if it reads a bit rushed. (シ_ _)シ

THIS FIC IS NSFW, SO 18+ ONLY PLEASE!!!

WARNINGS: Noncon/dubcon, yandere vibes, ABO/Omegaverse AU (reader is the omega ofc), death, strangulation, brief mentions of stalking, reader is degraded and treated like an object by Yujiro Hanma. You know how it is. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯"

You considered yourself lucky to have found the love of your life.

That wasn’t always the case for Omegas. Since your childhood, you’d heard countless horror stories from your parents and friends, tragedies and cautionary tales of the horrors Omega’s faced when looking for a mate. Many of your kind faced dismal futures as breeding factories or were forgotten and neglected by their partners whenever they weren’t in heat. It was a lonely, painful, and unfulfilling existence, but a sad reality that many Omega’s endured nonetheless.

Because of this your parents sheltered you, doing their best to keep you from the cruel power imbalance of the outside world. Your father made sure he was the only alpha allowed near you on the property, the rest of your friends and acquaintances consisting of either other Omega’s or Beta’s. Not that you much minded, after all the negativity you heard surrounding Alpha’s you figured this was for the best. You weren’t missing out on anything, and as long as you took your suppressors accordingly, you were sure you could live out the rest of your life just fine without Alpha influence and still feel completely fulfilled.

That was to say, until a certain bodyguard was hired as the family escort, specifically YOUR escort. You had heard he was an Alpha and were quite shocked that your father would allow such a person so close to you, especially with all his previous warnings. But as time passed and your curiosity grew, you would eventually introduce yourself to the man of your own accord, excited and nervous to see what manner of individual he truly was. At the time, you would have never ended up guessing that one meeting would end up turning your entire world on its head, bringing more joy to your life than you could have ever imagined.

You were smitten the moment your hands joined in the initial shake, taken in by his easy smile and sparkling eyes. He had respectfully kept his distance from you at your father’s request, but you could tell he was elated to finally speak with you, a small blush gracing his cheeks as soon as you said ‘hello’. He was a kindly man, mild mannered and soft spoken, but strong where it mattered and protective to a fault. Were it not for the unmistakable scent that exuded from him, you wouldn’t guess he was an Alpha at all, or at least he certainly didn’t fit the description of most of the Alpha’s your father warned you about-all full of machismo and brutality, ready at a moment’s notice to tear you apart to satisfy their own base urges.

This man was the opposite of that, and when you fell for him, you fell hard.

Years past in a whirlwind, from the initial awkward first dates, to buying your own place together, to his heartfelt proposal to you. Through it all he always remained respectful, giving you all the space and time you needed to adjust to your life with him, never pushing his boundaries or showing any untoward aggression or advances. Because of this, even after spending years together, you were able to remain pure, saving yourself for the day the two of you would join as one, marking each other to truly solidify your union.

And so time marched on, moving so fast that on more than one occasion you wished you could stop the clock altogether, just to steal a few more moments with him.

But now, you would never enjoy his company ever again.

His corpse had been tossed aside, discarded several feet from where you lay. It was so bloodied and broken you could barely recognize it as human, let alone as someone you once loved. Your chest rose and fell with erratic breaths punctuated by fear, the desire welling inside of you momentarily quelled by this sudden nightmare.

Minutes ago he was atop you, peeling the clothing from your aching, hot body. Moving painfully slow, he took his time enjoying your first heat with him, no longer constrained by the suppressors you had taken your whole life. You were scared of the process, worried about losing control of yourself and becoming mindless, driven by only your base needs. Not to mention the pain it would entail, the endless torture of emptiness, and the desperation you would experience relying solely on him for release from your torment.

But he had been patient and understanding through the whole process, explaining how it would all go down and how he would help you through it, alleviating any rogue fears that still remained. He even went so far as to help you prepare your nest, purchasing you any and everything you may need to make it comforting and inviting for when the time finally arrived. Meticulously helping you arrange everything while gushing about how excited he was, how lucky he felt having you as his mate, the one he would be eternally bonded too. He seemed more into the prep work than even you did.

Now, the nest that was to be used to consummate your love was stained in crimson, his blood splashing across it in vibrant streaks the moment he was knocked off you, flung across the room like a rag doll. No matter how badly you wanted to, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the lifeless body that used to be your beloved. Everything that had made him shine had been stolen in the blink of an eye, leaving only a husk remaining.

Above him stood his murderer, Yujiro Hanma, looming with a bestial sort of feral energy as he stared at the carcass by his feet. Before this moment, you had never interacted with the man they called ‘The Ogre’, but that didn’t mean you didn’t know all about him. It was hard not to-the strongest man in the world was a celebrity in his own right, renowned the world over for his ferocity and ruthless nature. He had started and ended wars by simply existing, going wherever he pleased and doing whatever he wanted because there was no one who could stop him. He ruled countries from the shadows, amassed wealth and respect from the most influential men in the world. Truly, he was not a person to be reckoned with.

All that aside, you knew him best as the man your father despised the most. A once respected comrade from your father’s military days, you were aware that Yujiro had done something unspeakable to your father in the past, therefore disgracing him from your entire family. Your father had always been an amicable and fair man, someone that you couldn’t imagine having any enemies (even with his military background), let alone ones that used to be dear friends. And while the mystery of what Yujiro may have done to your father to receive this treatment gnawed incessantly at your brain, you kept your questions to yourself, not wanting to open any old wounds that may hurt him in the process.

Now you wished you had pressed the issue more, maybe then you would have a clue as to why this mythical family villain had abruptly entered the scene, irrevocably changing your life in the process.

The slaughter happened so quickly that Yujiro didn’t even break a sweat. Not that he would have anyway-the differences in ability were clear as day, you didn’t need any fighting prowess to realize that. Your mate never stood a chance.

The ogre’s fiery hair danced wildly around his head like a halo as he turned his attention your way, his figure both terrifying and awe inspiring as he took his time stalking towards your vulnerable form. There was no need for him to rush- the power of his presence alone was enough to root you in place.

Splayed out in your nest, you were completely exposed. Your nude chest heaving as a thin layer of sweat coated you, anxiety and confusion mingling with the raging heat your body was going through. Even after watching the execution of your mate before your very eyes, your body was still yearning, causing a horrible, all-encompassing burning that scalded you from the inside out. It made you desperate for release as your mate was in the process of marking you, taking his time exploring the body of the woman with whom he was destined to spend the rest of his life with before carrying out the duty.

And while his drawn out advance was driving you to the point of madness, amplifying the throbbing ache in your core with each teasing touch of his hands and sensual kiss of his lips, you knew the sluggish pace was for your benefit-to prepare you properly. It was your first time, the start of your forever with him. He wanted to make it special, for your pleasure to be immeasurable when he finally entered you, making you feel so good that when he bit down to mark you as his, the pain would be nothing in comparison, if felt at all. You had a life time of love ahead of you, but that was no excuse for him to give in to his desire and rush your first union.

But he was gone now, and his kindness had left you feverish and wanting-so desperately wanting- release. Craving your alpha, needing him so badly you could barely stand it, you writhed pathetically on the ground, whimpering in agony at the absence of fulfillment. Unable to control yourself, your hand traveled to your privates, tears flooding your eyes when stuffing your fingers deep inside of yourself only seemed to hurt you more. It was hollow and empty, not what you needed, not what you craved.

Were you in your normal mindset, revulsion would have washed over you at your actions-the love of your life had just been slain and here you were making a sorry attempt at masturbation while his body lay decomposing beside you. What kind of woman does that? How could you live with yourself after this? How could you tell yourself you truly love him, when now that he’s gone the only feeling your addled brain can conjure is disappointment over the fact that you won’t get the fucking you have become so desperate for?

How had you become so disgusting? You lightly shook your head, trying to dispel the thoughts of self-loathing. Perhaps the blame did not lie fully on your shoulders, but to another culprit, one who was stalking his way closer and closer to you with each passing moment, hunting you as a wolf does livestock.

In any other scenario, this heart-rending moment would have been enough to crack the shell of haze your heat had left you in, no matter how worked up you had become. But the man who was now standing above you, Yujiro Hanma, was dangerous in ways you hadn’t even begun to fathom. His smell of his musk was so overbearing you nearly choked on it, the lust it sent coursing through your body turning you into something unrecognizable. You honed in on Yujiros scent long before his arrival, at first mistaking it for your own mate’s scent that had been amplified by your combined heats. And while it disgusted you to admit it, this new, intoxicating scent excited you far more than your own lover’s ever had, turning your mind to mush the longer you inhaled its aroma.

Yujiro’s cruel eyes bore down upon you, a look of mild amusement displayed on his face as he took in your weakened state. The smirk he wore as he killed your lover began to grow, his lips spreading into a full on smile, baring his teeth in a look that could only be considered as malicious.

“Well what do we have here,” he leered, the mere sound of his husky voice enough to make you moan, “Feeling a bit neglected, are we?”

He bent down on his knee, kneeling beside you as his eyes flicked across your body. After a brief once over, his large hand reached out towards your head, thick fingers knotting themselves into a fist as they gripped your hair. Roughly he yanked you up, dangling you mere inches from his face as he continued to stare at you with his horrible, ravenous eyes.

You scrambled to get your bearings, perching yourself on your knees to help alleviate the pressure on your scalp. Positioned so closely to him, his pheromones became even more intense, slick starting to seep from inside you from the proximity alone. Bright red bloomed across your body, a mixture of extreme arousal and embarrassment, as you wriggled in his hold.

Yujiro scoffed, “Look at you, I haven’t even touched you and you’re already leaking,” He swiped his fingers briskly against your weeping pussy, making you cry out as he gathered the evidence of your intoxication on his hand. Holding the glistening fingers up to your face, his smile returned as he goaded you. “Bet your little boyfriend lacked the power to make that happen, didn’t he?”

Any anger that may have welled inside you over the slight against your beloved was instantly quelled, eaten by the tumultuous feeling of frustration the situation ensnared you in. All you could do was stare at Yujiro with pleading eyes, any words you attempted to speak dying out the moment you tried to voice them, becoming little more than whiny, petulant mewlings. Rubbing your thighs together in an attempt to create friction, you prayed he would show an ounce of mercy and grant you release soon, fretting over how much longer your body could handle waiting.

Yujiro sighed, chuckling softly under his breath, “Your father is a damned fool, you know that? I told that stubborn bastard that his cute little Omega daughter was meant to be mine, knew it the moment I saw you. I warned him that he could try and pair you off with some other lesser Alpha, but it would be a waste of time. You were fated to be mine- made to take my cock. Trying to make you anything other than my bitch was both asinine and disgraceful.”

He shot you another wicked smile, “Idiots like him may not realize what a fucking honor it is to be my cumdump, but surely you do, right sweetheart?”

You squeaked as he tugged you closer, his breath fanning your face while he stared down his nose at you, “Or maybe you don’t, given the situation I found you in. Looks like my ravenous little whore just couldn’t contain herself, could she?”

His lips curled into a snarl, his booming voice reverberating through your bones as he continued to address your misdemeanor. “Nesting with some weak piece of shit like that, have you no pride in yourself? I’m embarrassed you even gave him the time of day, let alone bared yourself to him. Who do you think you are, trying to fuck basic trash when you belong to me?”

Without giving you a chance to respond, he released his grip on your hair, shoving you roughly to the ground in the process. Hearing him move behind you, you attempted to push your feeble body into a sitting position, trying to reacclimate yourself. However before you could achieve this simple goal, his hand latched to the back of your head, shoving it down until it was smothered in the soft blankets beneath you. His free hand yanked your legs out from under you, pulling your ass up in the process. Though you couldn’t see him, the power radiating from him was immense, his aura so domineering you felt as if it alone was steadily crushing you. Were you in any sane frame of mind you would fear for your life, struggle and fight against the oppressive hardness that slotted itself against your dripping entrance.

But the slave you had become welcomed the intrusion, and as he tightened his hold on you, growling in your ear like the wild animal he had proved himself to be, you couldn’t stop your body from shuddering in anticipation of what was to come.

“It’s time for some corrective action.”

He entered you violently, his thick cock impossibly hot as he sheathed himself inside of you. The initial pain tore a scream from your throat, your vision dotting as you felt blood trail steadily down your shaking legs. He gave you no time to adjust, continuing his brutal assault as he pounded into you, uncaring of the damage he was inflicting upon you. The smack of his skin against your was punctuated by your cries, at first full of pain, but slowly morphing into expulsions of pleasure.

When the abruptness of his entrance fully subsided, you began to focus on the feel of him inside of you. Each slam of his hips ignited you, creating a feverish frenzy within that blocked out all other sensations and judgment. He filled you so completely, easily reaching all the spots that your fingers tried so desperately to reach just moments ago, satisfying all the areas that had been so urgently in need of attention with each stroke of his cock. You wanted more, needed more, moving in time with him as you chased after your pleasure. Wanton moans spilled from your lips, muffled by the bedding that was being shoved into your mouth with each thrust.

Even in the uncomfortable position he had locked you in, unable to breathe properly or escape from his grasp, all you could find yourself caring about was the alpha behind you and how he was making you feel- a strange sense of pride bubbled inside you the longer he went at you. The most powerful man in the world was doing little more than using you, and yet it was the fact that he chose you to begin with that filled you with flattery. A nobody like you being sought out by an alpha like him... Isn’t that what all Omegas dreamed of? To be desired by a dominant Alpha, having the honor of bringing them pleasure and receiving pleasure in turn, wasn’t that your only purpose, your reason for being?

You never dreamed you would feel that way before, but now you were finally starting to understand. The delirium of your desire had launched you into a state of inescapable euphoria, rebirthing you as nothing more than a shell of a woman who had finally realized her purpose, completely giving herself over to her unquenchable cravings while her Alpha’s assault molded her destiny.

Yujiro was a monster. Any man who did what they had done to the love of your life, any man whom your father had hated to the point of excommunication, any man who would violate you in such a way without so much as batting an eye, was an abomination-the remaining rational part of your mind understood this.

Yet as this demon, deserving of nothing but your scorn and hatred, spilled himself inside of you all you could feel was thankful. Thankful that the ungodly heat was starting to subside, happy that the pain the experience had brought you was alleviated, and blissed out over the feel of him nestled deeply inside of you, convulsing as the twitch of his cumming cock rained pleasure down upon you.

Finally, you felt complete.

After pumping you full of his hefty load, he hoisted you up in his arms, repositioning you so that you were facing him, straddling his lap. Gasping the moment you gained access to fresh air, a distressed groan croaked from your throat as his incisors latched to your neck, sinking deep into your scent gland. Your body shuddered at the sensation, fresh waves of pain and rapture coursing through you as he marked you decisively as his.

The cock that was still stuffed inside of you remained rigid, showing no signs of softening as your walls fluttered around it, the next round of your heat coming far sooner than you had anticipated. His hand wrapped securely around your throat, replacing where his lips had just been. He clamped down hard, pain pulsating from the open wound your scent gland had become, struggling once more to breath. His other hand grasped your hip, both limbs working in unison to bounce you on his dick-using you as if you were a human fleshlight.

“Don’t forget your place again,” he grunted, pulling you down on his cock so harshly, you saw stars, “You’re mine now.”

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arachine · 2 years ago

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warnings: canon-verse!ethan, male masturbation (not explicit), voyeurism (ethan listening to chad x f!reader), not proofread, literally typed this up before class >.< word count: 850 note: an idea that i want to eventually expand upon! hopefully people will be interested in a full fledged fic *ੈ✩‧₊˚

ethan who touches himself and listens through the wall whenever you’re over fucking chad. he can’t stand it. can’t stand that chad gets to have his way with you. can’t stand that the only sliver of you he gets is through a wall—and you’re so loud, every single time. all moans and drawls, equal parts pornographic and angelic. it’s fucking annoying is what it is.

sometimes he thinks you’re performing. making a show of it so that chad can finish, because chad couldn’t really be that good, could he? sure, he was a jock—had the brawn and stereotypical letterman jacket to prove it—but by no means did his reputation as a sex god actually hold any weight. couldn’t have. the guy doesn’t even know his right from his left—so there was no way in hell he knew where the clit was. or how to make a girl cum with his tongue in under five minutes.

or maybe he did. maybe ethan wasn’t giving him enough credit—but he settled on the former. because, if it wasn’t a performance, and all those moans—all those noises were real—then ethan thinks you’re doing it for him. that you’re this loud because you want him to hear. and he tells himself that the things you’re saying to chad are what you’re really saying to him. that those cries of ‘too much, can’t take it chad’s and those ‘you feel so good’s are all for him.

and if he really concentrates, he can hear you saying his name instead of his roommate’s. four letters turn into five. two syllables instead of one, and they drip from your lips in dulcet tones.

ethanethanethan, is what he hears before you make it over your peak. and it’s also the last thing he hears before he’s making a mess in his boxers. until he hears the bed dip in the other room, and then nothing. a loud silence. it’s then when he’s roused from his reverie, and becomes suddenly hyper-aware of the mess he’s sitting in. fucking pathetic. but he doesn’t linger in his self-pity for too long. makes the decision to climb out of bed and fill the silence with his heavy footsteps to the bathroom.

by the time he rounds the corner, he catches you slipping out of chad’s room. the hallway is dark, just barely illuminated by the moonlight peeking through the window, but he can still see the wanes of your face, and the dejected expression you’re wearing. he doesn’t like it.

“oh, hey,” you whisper when you notice his static silhouette, “he’s asleep. figured i’d use the bathroom before heading out—wait, were you gonna use the bathroom? shit, sorry, you can go first.”

ethan steps out of the shadows and into the moonlight. “yeah, but it’s alright. go ahead, i’ll just wait out here.” you mutter a quiet thanks before walking in and closing the door. the first thing he hears is you putting the toilet seat down, then he hears you pulling down your night shorts, until finally, he hears you peeing. it fills his throat with bile just thinking about the reason why you’re peeing in the first place. to flush out chad’s cum. yeah, he was aware girls had to pee after sex—regardless of whether or not there was a condom used—but he knew chad didn’t use condoms. at least, not with you.

he knew as much because the jock bragged about it before. told him that you were ‘on the pill’ and wanted him to ‘finish inside’ since your relationship was transitioning from friends-with-benefits to something with a little more commitments. you weren’t dating, per se, but you weren’t seeing anyone else—which makes him mad. furious, even. because ethan knew you, well, he was starting to get to know you. and he knew that you deserved someone who could feed your brain with intellectual thoughts. someone who could please you, who would protect you—kill for you.

someone like him. you deserve…him. the turn of a knob pulls him from his thoughts, and once again, he’s flashing you that faux-sweet smile, only this time, the entirety of his face is illuminated from the light of the bathroom.

“alright, thanks for letting me use the bathroom. i better go,” you gesture with a thumb pointing behind you, “have a good night, ethan.”

“you-“ he opens his mouth to speak, but promptly closes it. it was just barely above a whisper, and yet, you turn around again to face him.

“what was that?”

ethan sighs, something long and exasperated. he’s tired. of this, of chad, of you. he wants to sleep, to succumb to the deep-black darkness behind his eyelids when he lays his head down on his pillow later. but he does want to say something.

you deserve better. that’s what he wants to say—what he was going to say. but instead he just says, “you too.”

#ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x reader smut #ethan landry x you #ethan landry x you smut #ethan landry smut #scream vi smut #scream vi #scream smut #:: — LEXI WRITES !

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cebwrites · 3 months ago

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Hello hello !! Just discovered your blog through the law x anxious reader fic, and it really helped me out :< indulged in your beautiful master list! Keep it up!!!

If your requests are open, are you okay to write more comfort scenarios with law x reader or Sanji x reader? Any sad/distracted reader scinario really !! ( extra cookies for a bottled up reader but not an important need) Only if you want to tho <3

pls take care of yourself and thank u!! Have a good day ^_^

a/n: hellooo anon from-- december 2023... ._.;; i've been meaning to get to your request for a while but just never got around to until now! hopefully you're still around to enjoy the food <//3

comforting their partner (Law, Sanji)

masc reader, they/them law word count: 0.8k

Law

You were known to get lost in your thoughts from time to time, so initially, Law wasn't worried.

You still keened into their touch as Law's hand brushed against your cheek for attention, you lounged on the couch in their office as they worked, occasionally pestering them with wants for kisses and the non-negotiable snack break, and you still pulled them to bed, to try and get some sleep, a few reasonable hours before the sun would peek over the horizon.

It was when you began to dwell on things that Law began to worry.

You weren't as quick to respond, you picked at your food—while somehow miraculously making sure they ate—and stared out of the Tang's port holes with a look in your eyes that wasn't like the usual daydreams.

It took them longer to realize than they'd like to but once they do, they talk to you about it, put it to bed sooner rather than later.

Law's familiar with all the motions you try to use to avoid confrontation, tools they've used before to run from being vulnerable with the people close to them, with their crew, with you. So they have none of it. They still give you space when you ask and let you know that you can come to them for anything, but Law becomes entirely more physical than they've ever been.

Cuddling and giving you little pecks on the cheek in front of crew members, crawling into bed with you without being asked, even setting up little movie nights for the both of you to relax. None of their advances are sexual, they're just a lot more present despite themself.

Knowing how difficult it must be for Law to be open like this, you relent and spill what's been troubling you all this time, slowly releasing the pressure you've built inside you until it comes out in full forced waves, wracking your body.

Law rests their head in the crook of your neck, offering comfort in the form of gentle circles on your back where words fail them but they try, regardless.

Once the tears have dried you offer them a consolation smile, make a little jab at yourself about how much time they've had to waste comforting you here, instead of doing work; their response is pinching your noise with a frown, only smiling at the silly sound you make in return.

"The only time wasted is time not spent with you, darling."

Sanji

Another suspect of serial "not-talking-about-his-feelings"-itis.

Sanji notices the change immediately, he tries to broach the topic with you but you sidestep it with excuses, a wry smile, and typical Strawhat chaos envelops the Sunny before Sanji can get anywhere near a concrete answer from you.

Still, his love is clearly upset about something and it's up to him to make his boyfriend feel better.

A wretched, dreadful part of him in the form of three men with ridiculous hair whispers that it's probably his fault, deepening the pit in Sanji's stomach that opened up when he first picked up on your mood, but he's quick to tamp it down in the moment.

It lingers, however, the longer you avoid him.

And when he starts holding back with you in return, this only deepens the well of worry you've cultivated.

Eventually, the crew conspires to get the two of you talking again - because the opposite is driving everyone up the wall. You don't pay attention to antics with Luffy and Usopp, Franky's inventions don't have you scurrying over with the rest of the boys, Sanji doesn't twirl and spin as much for the ladies, and although his cooking is still immaculate, everyone can tell that he's distracted.

Chopper even whispers about how frustrated Zoro is now that Sanji doesn't rise to the bait of a deadly sparring match.

So you end up alone with Sanji one evening. The crew's antics somehow lost the pre-planned date dinner, but Sanji doesn't mind whipping up something simple and quick for your refined plate. You laugh, it's a sound he misses, and you can't deny that you miss sharing food with him as well.

He makes the crew's meals every day, yes, but something like this is different, it's intimate.

Over the course of preparing dinner, and having it, you slowly let your thoughts unravel, bare your vulnerabilities to him and Sanji, in turn, in equal measures relieved as he aches for not being someone you felt that you could come to air these grievances, embraces you.

He fills your head with every thought he's had about you since this rift had formed, maybe leaving the... less, chivalrous ones for later, but more than anything Sanji wants you to know you are loved. By him and everyone who shares a space with you on this ship.

Heart full of love, you kiss your swirly cook to sleep.

#cebwrites #one piece #one piece law #op law #trafalgar law x reader #one piece trafalgar law #law x reader #law x male reader #law x y/n #one piece sanji #black leg sanji #sanji #sanji x reader #sanji x male reader #sanji x y/n #sanji x you

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ilylovelyz · 1 year ago

Note

I want to know your SFW and NSFW headcanons for Sakusa<33

sakusa sfw & nsfw headcannons - i made a slowburn fic about him that very much explains what i think sakusa is like before and during the first weeks of a relationship!! i recommend reading it just for more insight <3

sfw

keep it a buck you 100% have to ask him out first

if you dont then it'll never happen bc hes a scaredy cat

i think that sakusa would date someone who is the opposite of him

yk outgoing and leading

i feel like a way his s/o would interest him is obviously if they are clean and good with hygiene too, just like how sakusa took an interest with ushijima

but his s/o, who is like a ball of sunshine like hinata, will first annoy him

he'll be like "shut up" or just like just despise ur presence because ur just a total opposite

but then he'll see ur cleaning skills or do something that has him giving you his total respect

at first he's like very standoffish towards you, only really responding to you with short answers

he's almost curious in the way you are so insistent, your hardworking attitude has him always on his feet

it takes a long while, but he'll eventually come to accept you as a "friend"

he almost admires the way you are so persistent and always positive, so will eventually long for you at his side to lead him

youll obvi have to ask him out first, seeing as he wasnt getting the hint with your light flirting and teasing

he'll definitely surprised, and definitely asks you to give him time and think about it

after like a week of "thinking," he'll accept, a light blush across his cheeks as he mutters out a shy "yes."

hes not much for dates, but he'll take you out because he's a gentleman and knows that dates are necessary for a thriving relationship

he doesn't take you to the mall or whatever, i see him actually preferring quiet activities such as picnics or painting

not much of a romantic, but he'll like to intertwine pinkies 😊😊

erm if its a full train ride then you'll be the one shielding him from the other passengers sorry 😪

i see him liking it when the two of you just hang out at each other's homes, i feel like for some reason he'd help you clean ur room??

if he sees something that reminds you of him he'll actually buy it and "nonchalantly" give it to you as a gift <3

as your relationship grows over time, i see him becoming more protective and clingy to you

the first couple of months he was still somewhat closed off to you

but after the 5th month mark, his affection and adoration towards you is all but unknown

sometimes he'll kiss you in public, a soft kiss, one thats a little long but a little short that has you wanting more

no more pinky intertwining, it was exchanged for full hand holding 😜

type of "private but not secret" relationship

he'll pull you aside before his games or class and wrap his arms around your waist and lean his head into your shoulder just for a moment of silence and rest

and before he will leave he'll plant a soft kiss onto your forehead cuz hes a sicko like that 😒😒😒😒😮‍💨💔

sometimes he'll look in your direction before spiking as to see if you're watching before he destroys the other team, otherwise he's completely focused on his game because volleyball is still his priority unfortunately

i dont really see him dropping things for his s/o, but will rather make plans with you very ahead of time so that way he can have plans with you regardless of his schedule

for what it's worth, i see him kinda liking it when you match with him

i see him just going alone with your flow because you seem to know what you're doing in the relationship, and it works out nicely anyways

theres not many arguments or disagreements about anything cuz u pretty much have the same interests and views as him

little shopping dates, cart full with aesthetic cleaning supplies and snacks <3

yk i kinda see him being jealous easily but at the same time i dont

he's more jealous about people being more open and having the ability to make you laugh

but you seem dumbfounded at his worries, because he makes you laugh all the time!!!

doesnt worry about you cheating at all cuz he thinks worrying about that stuff is useless and stupid because theres no reason to doubt you

he's more worried if you're going to leave him tho, but he really only thinks that late at night when he's in his feels :(

but his negative thoughts are quickly disappearing when its like 3am and ur responding to his "are u awake" messages in less than a millisecond with a "yeah, wanna call? i miss you </3"

aw i see him lending you his volleyball jersey/jacket while he plays he actually thinks its cute

nsfw

maybe he's always stressed because he's sexually frustrated? 🤔

he hates masturbating, just because he doesn't like how dirty it feels

before you, he rarely did

he still didnt at the beginning of the relationship

but after the first kiss, he felt the strange familiar tingle in his core

yeah bro is so touch starved he got horny just with a kiss 😭

later that night of the first kiss, he was aggressively tugging at his cock, biting his lip till it bled cuz you just made him so horny :/

kissing is always a sweet thing for sakusa, because he likes the tenderness and the nice warm feeling it gives him

which is why he usually only kisses you when it's just the two of you because its when he's completely soft and himself

at first, he's really nervous and stiff while kissing you, and trembling?

but omg this guy learns really fast

because when his hands are wrapped tightly around your waist, his lips moving so deliciously against yours, it can only make you think "oh wow"

ah his kisses are so nice thats all i can say

after the 6th month mark, he'll eagerly and almost unknowingly turn what was a sweet peck on the lips into a full blown makeout session

its almost pleasurable, the way he applies the right amount of pressure while holding you in his arms, his kisses have you out of breath and you almost cant keep up with him anymore

the first time you had sex with him, he was so nervous

the virgin in him felt like a little boy all over again, awestruck at the discovery of a female's bare body

he was so infatuated with your body, worshiping it and touching you as if you were fine china

you felt so amazing, your lips so soft around his cock, he swears jacking off ≠ you

he felt so embarrassed with the way he came so quickly when you gave him a blowjob

he also didn't really know it, but according to you, he had a big dick

he was a little flabbergasted when you told him that 😭 maybe a little mortified too

oh god the moment he felt ur pussy walls around him it was over

he couldnt even keep himself up, eyes clamped shut at the vice grip your tight cunt had on him

you just felt so good around him

after the first time, he'll quickly want another second

though it took awhile, but he eventually mustered up the courage to politely ask you to have sex with him again 😭

although he didnt say it out right, the way he was stiff on his knees, lips in a visible pout and cheeks having a twinge of red it was obvious what he wanted

the first few times he had sex with you, he would focus on your pleasure rather than his, because the perfectionist within him had him wanting to know all of your weaknesses and soft spots

and learn quickly he did, almost becoming your own personal sex god after a few times of doing it with him

yk i see him being into naughty things 😏

i think the "normal" guy within him would have you pulled aside somewhere public, fingers pumping inside your cunt, his free hand underneath your shirt, fondling your breasts

to top it all of, he'll lean down to nibble on your earlobe, mumbling a teasing "you have to be quiet, you don't want them catching us do you..?"

he doesn't like quickes because he thinks they are unromantic, but occasionally he'll fuck you dumb in a bathroom stall if it calls for it

please if you wear nothing but his shirt he'll very much devour you

he's fucked you multiple times with you wearing only his shirt

the way his shirt just drowns your much smaller frame has him going crazy on you

he doesn't know what it is, but it's very much of a turn on for him

he's into anal 🌚

it wasnt something you discovered until almost two years into your relationship

he thinks its so erotic and dirty it never fails to make him blush hard

he has a smart mouth during sex 😒

"look at how wet you are, it's all over the sheets, you like it this much?" he'll say with a feigned annoyed expression, but the way his cock twitches at the way you practically drool all over him shows it all

he loves it when you sit in his lap, your back against his chest while he lifts you up and down his cock

since your pleasure is his, he'll go down on you as much as you want him to

sometimes the two of you will be just making out and his hand will sneak down underneath your panties and fuck you on his fingers for hours <3

hes so this video ☺️

okay, he's very much careful with sex

he always has a condom in his wallet, he'll always wear a condom, hes careful

but

he couldnt help the way he came so hard when you two first did it raw :(

he practically humped himself like a bunny against you, so pussydrunk on you 💔

he couldnt help it 😣 u just feel so good around him afterall

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nyoomfruits · 8 months ago

Note

not a day goes by that i don’t think about the fact that you’ve got a landoscar college au (PLUS Oscar POV) that ur just…sitting on somewhere in ur docs it’s there and not on my AO3…not sure if I could survive the winter without it btw, if u even care

anon please the implication that i would just leave a full ass finished fic in my docs 😭 i crave validation i would never anyway i'm still fighting the horrors (writing smut) on that one but here's a lil snippet!!!

The thing is, eventually all paths lead to fucking Rome. So maybe this was inevitable. Maybe this was always meant to happen. And maybe this is a fucking glitch in the matrix and Oscar has officially lost his marbles. Logan has been joking, how he’s been stuck with his nose in his study books so much they might permanently attach themselves to his face.

But then again. Logan’s also the asshole of a flat mate who threw a party on Oscar’s study night in the first place. So maybe it’s his fault. Or maybe it’s on Oscar, for wanting a break from studying, for wandering out into the party to grab a snack and a hot chocolate. Maybe it’s on whoever added a can of whipped cream to their shopping basket that week.

Regardless of the roads, Rome.

Rome, in this case, is Lando fucking Norris, on his knees in front of Oscar looking up with pleading eyes through long lashes, clearly a little buzzed, curls damp and sticking to his forehead.

God, universe, whoever is listening. What the fuck.

“C’mon,” Lando says, mischievous glint in his eyes. “Whip cream me.” And then he opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue and Oscar stop thinking all together.

#landoscar #mctwinks #twinklaren #will i finish this #maybe #maybe not #WHO KNOWS #NOT ME

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asumofwords · 1 year ago

Text

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. Angst, violence, fear, anxiety, PTSD, mentions of rape.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Full speed ahead from here... Buckle the fuck in my babies, let's get this show on the road! I think we all knew that something was coming and here we are... Rapid fire posting from here on out, are you ready? Again, as always, thank you, thank you, thank you all so very much for all your love and continued support! You guys have made writing this so much fun! <3

Chapter 97: Consequences

The sun rose slowly that morning, the room being cast in its gentle warm glow.

Shadows danced across the wall, growing larger with every hour that passed, and every crawling step that the sun took to get higher and higher in the sky.

You laid as you were, nestled beneath the sheets, with your hand still reaching for the blade Aemond had gifted you upon his departure.

Always ready.

Always waiting.

For him.

The maids woke alongside the sun, stretching long arms above their bodies to straighten their spines, vertebrae’s clicking into place and aches settling into their muscles after sleeping on chaises and chairs for many nights straight.

They rose, and helped you rise, dressing you in a deep black and red skirt, with a black leather bustier top. The shoulders were cuffed with metal, with long dripping hoops of chains that pressed cooly against the bare skin of your arms. The neck was high fitting, and splayed outwards like dragon wings.

As you sat at the table, waiting for the two girls to bring you food to break your fast, Amala entered first, a short bow, and the quietest of apologies on her tongue. The action caused panic to rear its ugly head within you, and so you darted your head backwards towards the bed, seeking out the place you knew the blade to be hidden, with your eyes.

Movement in your periphery, you turned your head, and met the deep brown eyes of Alicent Hightower, dressed in an even deeper green gown, tight arms and stiff neck, standing in your chambers.

“Good Morrow, Princess.” She greeted you, hands clasped gently at her front.

Your brows twitched as you looked at her, “Alicent.”

The Dowager Queen walked towards you slowly, “I thought I might join you to break our fasts together.”

You blinked at the Hightower. Her hair was half up, half down, pinned away from her face in a thick braid that Helaena used to wear across the top of her scalp, auburn wisps curling away from her face, escaping the style.

You opened your palm towards Aemond’s empty seat. A silent invitation to join you. A motion for her to sit. An unlikely guest in your chambers whom you had no real power to turn away.

A guest in whom you had to welcome regardless of the desire to slit her throat.

Alicent moved slowly, as though she was floating across the stones. Her feet did not make sounds as she walked, an entirely silent ordeal that made you see Alicent in Aemond in more ways than you had thought before.

Both having to have been seen and not heard. Quiet and dutiful. It was all there, the reflection of a mother in her son. The silent resentment of all those around. The even quieter pain that lingered behind the pairs eyes, pain from duty, pain from having no voice, pain from being trapped to the shadows of men before them.

Pulling out her chair, she seated herself down, eyes flicking about the chambers in inspection.

What she was looking for, you did not know.

It was not long until Joanna, helped by Amala, brought in the food and plates for the both of you. It was as if the Queen had planned this breakfast, and that it was not at all as spur of the moment as she wished it to seem.

Alicent Hightower was always making calculated moves.

You wondered what this one was for.

“And how are you?” She asked gently, thanking the girls as they bowed and left the chambers for you to be alone with the older woman.

You cleared your throat, serving yourself a plate of food as you stared at her. You let out a deep sigh through your nose and responded, “I have been better.”

There was no point in lying to her, nor did you wish to soothe any anxieties she, in your opinion, was most likely to have. And though you wished to have nothing to do with the woman seated opposite you, there was no denying the similarities that you both shared. The combined struggle that the both of you would understand, even wordlessly.

You were both women.

Alicent mirrored your actions, serving herself a plate of eggs, toast and cooked tomatoes, “It seems to be something we can all agree on.”

You blinked at her.

“What happened to you,” She began, hands placed delicately in her lap, which you knew to mean she was picking at the skin of her nails, “Was a horrific set of unforeseen circumstances. The Gods-“

“Unforeseen.” You hummed, picking up your goblet of fresh juice taking a sip, “Unforeseen for myself and Aemond, perhaps. But the King and his Council knew that I was to be brought to the Throne Room that day. You knew.”

Alicent cut herself a piece of toast, smearing egg onto its crispy surface, “I had cautioned the King against such an-“

“Alicent, you could not caution an ant if you wished.” You breathed, cutting into your own toast with far more vigour than needed.

“Aemond was not privy to know-“

“As I am now aware.” You swallowed the bread thickly, “Please be transparent about your coming today.”

Alicent’s doe-y features hardened, and the calculating serpent you had become accustomed to, was revealed to the room, though her eyes still stayed soft, “I came to speak to you about my son.”

“Which one? The rapist, my husband, or the corpse?”

The reminder of Daeron set Alicent’s teeth on edge, jaw clenched as she stared at you, “Aemond.” She grit out.

“My husband then." You gave her a clipped smile, "What did you need to speak to me of, which you could no doubt ask him yourself? Do you not have a better relationship with him than I?”

“I wished to hear it from your own lips.”

“My lips have said many things about your sons, my husband especially. What does the famed Green Queen want to know?” You sighed, munching on some star fruit as the Lady Alicent Hightower struggled to keep her frustrations at bay.

“Do you love him?”

You laughed.

You didn’t mean to.

But you just did.

Alicent was not impressed, and seemed all together confused.

“If I did not love him, I would not be here still.”

“You would. It is a marriage-“

“-I would have thrown myself from the window like Helaena if I did not, or ripped his throat out with my teeth..." You paused, "Or yours."

It was blunt.

Raw.

And hurt the both of you.

You strummed your fingers against the table loudly, looking down as you contemplated your next words.

“I love him. That is the truth of it. A sick and twisted truth if anything, but something I could have never fought. The Gods made us for each other. It is known. But my love for him does not outweigh the hurt he has inflicted upon me. He is still a Kinslayer.”

Alicent tilted her head, leaning back in her chair, chestnut waves falling over her shoulder, “As are you." One singular eyebrow raised, "I think you seem to forget.”

“How can one forget a life one took?" You spoke flatly, disinterested in the actions of the past, "My only consolation was that it was war when I did it. Aemond however, pushed the first piece on the board to start the others that fell. Like mother, like son.”

Alicent ate another piece of her eggs daintily, lifting to her lips with her fork, before swallowing, “The both of you are Kinslayers, acursed in the eyes of the people.”

You gave her a toothy grin, “Then what better way than to have those who are acursed as Kinslayers to be wed to each other. It would surely bring damnation and shame to any other husband or wife and their House, but the Gods made it so that we are together as one. In actions. In sin. In love. A small mercy really.”

Alicent gave an uneven smile, placing her cutlery back onto her plate, “It's strange, I must admit. The predicament we find ourselves in. But if anything, I am glad that it was you. That meek Baratheon girl would not have survived my son, I'm afraid.”

You frowned, and Alicent continued, “I would have no better match for Aemond. You have both always loved each other. You know each other better than anyone else, and at times, though it pains me to admit it, you know my son better than I do. You see him. All of him. The good and the bad. My parts that played in it, and yours. And I believe the Seven helped to bring you together.”

“It was the Old Gods, not the Seven.”

Alicent merely stared at you for a time, picking her napkin up to dab at her lips before placing the napkin back on the table, “With any luck, Aemond should return soon.” She stood, pushing her chair back as she smoothed out her skirts.

“Godspeed.” You prayed, and watched as she bowed and left your chambers.

You finished your breakfast without the presence of the Dowager Queen, and when you were done, you made your way down to the Library to read.

When you entered the Library it was quiet and still, with one lone servant stoking the flames in the large fireplace, placing three to four large logs inside carefully.

As they heard your entrance, they bowed at the hip, keeping their face to the ground before they scuttled out of the room like a rodent.

You perused the isles of books for some time, fingers tracing over the worn spines, and dusted covers. Leather and embroidered tomes combined. As you came to one isle in particular, you thought back on the way Aemond had taken you against the shelves, face diving between your folds, his tongue lapping at you feverently before spearing you upon his cock.

Your core clenched at the memory.

Picking a tome at random, you pulled the heavy leather bound book from the shelf, making your way to seat yourself before the fire as you opened it up in your lap. The first page was worn, and faded, but the script was slanted beautifully by a careful hand.

‘Maegor the Cruel, The Usurpation of Aegon the Uncrowned, and The Seven Faith Militant. A History.’

You had picked quite the intense read, but began it nonetheless.

‘Maegor the First was the son of King Aegon the First and his eldest sister-wife, Queen Visenya Targaryen. Maegor was born of fire and blood, the prodigy of Aegon the Conqueror, A King who laid waste to all the realms who did not bend the knee on the back of Balerion the Black Dread. Maegor the Cruel had an older half-brother, Aenys the First, who was said to be a fair and just Prince.’

The day floated by as you read the history of Maegor and his violent rise to power.

‘Maegor had six wives, to which the Faith strongly rebuked, polygamy a sin in the eyes of the Seven Faith. Ceryse Hightower, and Alys Harroway - who was later killed by his third wife Tyanna of the Tower. Then, there were the Black Brides; Elinor Costayne, Jayne Westerling, and his niece, Rhaena Targaryen.’

The warmth of the fire settled over you gently, and your eyes excitedly read each page as you got more and more into the violence of the Cruel King. You had read the history once before, but you had been young and under the Septa’s supervision, which made learning about him boring and irksome.

By now you had gotten half way through the tome.

‘At the death of his father, Aegon the First, his brother Aenys ascended the throne. Maegor was still exiled for his sins in marrying a second wife, and soon after his ascent to the Iron Throne, King Aenys passed. Maegor seized the throne, and crowned himself King. Yet his rule would not be an easy one. Some moons later, Prince Aegon, Maegor’s nephew, laid claim to the Iron Throne, as was his birth right.’

The sound of the library doors echoed in the chambers, but you did not raise your head.

‘Prince Aegon’s claim was supported by several Lords of the Westerlands and Riverlands, and so the Prince marched at the head of an army, fifteen thousand men strong. Queen Tyanna, Maegor’s third wife and the Mistress of Whispers, warned that Maegor's allies would turn on him for his nephews claim if there was show of his prevail. In the Battle Beneath The Gods Eye, Maegor and Aegon’s armies clashed, and fought in a bloody and brutal battle. Men were slain from their horses by archers and swordsman, dragon fire lay waste to hundreds of men, the earth under The Gods Eye was soaked with blood, and many soldiers sank into its red mud. Though it came to an end, Maegor slew his nephew and his dragon Quicksilver, tearing them from the sky on the back of the mighty Black Dread. Maegor the Cruel was thenceforth known for his cruelty and labeled a Kinslayer.’

“Princess, Y/n.” A voice pulled you from your book. Your eyes lifted from the page to meet Ser Criston Cole’s.

You straightened your back, looking to the two guards who flanked him either side, feeling a strange sense of dejavu from the scene before you.

“Ser Cole.” You greeted him warily, placing the book atop the table in front of you and standing, body ready to take flight.

Ser Criston lifted his head high, “King Aegon has requested for your presence in the Throne Room.”

You blinked, and you stomach did a small flip, fear rising in your throat.

“And I suppose these guards are there to enforce my presence?”

The two men shifted, their armour scratching against each other, eyes aimed at the wall behind you.

Ser Cole breathed, “No, My Lady.”

“Then tell the King I am busy.” You moved to sit back down, but Ser Cole took a step forward towards you.

It was clear then, that there was no real choice.

Not that you ever had one in the Keep.

It was not a casual invitation that they would like you to believe it was, much like Alicent's breaking her fast with you that morning, but they were not dragging you to the Throne Room, kicking and screaming as they did last time.

It did little to soothe your wrought nerves, but it was at least something.

The small voice in the back of your head screamed that it would be another Maester situation. Your intuition told you to run. Your baser instincts told you to fight.

But what if it was one of the maids?

Panic shot through you, and so you nodded, walking across the room, feeling as though each step further settled your doom. But you could not leave them. If it was one of the maids, if Larys had discovered them, you would not abandon them now in their time of need.

Ser Cole bowed his head to you, holding the door open before he began to lead you to the Iron Throne, the two guards walking closely behind you, ready to snatch you if you so chose to run.

Each step of the men was a shuffle of robes and armour, and you watched the sword on Ser Criston’s side sway heavily with each step, its long blade tapping the side of his thigh.

Each sway reminded you of how Aegon’s hand had swung down, separating the old mans head from his neck. How your Grandsire's blade had tipped at Aegon's side as he descended the steps of the Iron Throne to stand before you.

The blood.

So much blood.

On you.

On the stones.

You wondered for a moment, if the stain would still be there, or if they had tasked some poor servants to scrub it out of the porous surface as though their lives depended on it.

You tried to steady your breathing. Counting each step as you saw the large doors to the Iron Throne. Fifty-one. Fifty-Two. Fifty-Three. Fifty-Four.

Kings guards opening the heavy wood doors with steel bracketing along its face to let you in.

Ser Cole walked ahead of you announcing you to the chambers, as you held your hands behind you, fingers digging sharply into the flesh of your palm. The King Maker voiced boomed as you looked to Aegon, who was seated upon the throne, lazily leaning on one side with his chin in his palm, as though summoning you back to the Throne Room was a chore and a bore.

The Small Council were about the chambers, dressed in their robes and House colours, watching you with careful and guarded eyes, though nervousness shifted their bodies.

And there, beside the throne, once again, was Aemond.

His presence did little to settle your nerves.

It was happening again.

Gods, please, help me.

Aemond's gaze had snapped to you as soon as you had entered, and although he stood tall and stiff, hands behind his back and face impassive, your presence had clearly come as a surprise.

Again.

Aemond looked blindsided.

Completely at a loss as to why you were there, and it showed in his eye.

The Prince looked as though he had only just arrived back in Kings Landing, dressed still in his riding leathers, hair pulled back and away from his face by braids, and lips pressed into a thin line. His brows had furrowed as he looked at you.

But Aemond hadn’t come straight to you as he usually did.

Something was amiss.

“Husband,” You called out to him, schooling your voice to hide the rising panic, “I am gladdened to see you hale and hearty and returned home.” You gave him a small smile, and turned to the King, “You requested my presence, Your Grace?”

Aegon did not smile at you.

He did not even sneer.

The King merely stared at you with his intense, violet eyes, lips slightly pursing in thought before straightening into a flat line, much like his brother. But beneath those bright eyes you had come to fear, there was something simmering beneath.

Rage.

Swallowing and sensing that you were in danger, you turned to face your husband again, “Did you find the men who were responsible at the Red Fork?”

Aemond was still, shoulders tensed, head turning to look up at his brother who still sat staring at you, crown atop his head. You watched as your husbands lips opened to speak.

Otto Hightower stepped forward, his greying and receding hair shimmering in the light that poured in from the windows. His robes of green were trimmed with fur around his neck and chest, and the pin of the Hand of the King sat against his breast.

“You stand before King Aegon the Second, rightful heir to the Iron Throne.” His voice sent chills down your spine, skin breaking beneath your nails in your palm. It was happening again, “You have been brought before the King and his Council to answer for the crimes you are being charged.”

Your immediate thought was to turn to Aemond, to ask him what was happening, to beg him for help, but you remembered the last time this had happened. You remembered the last time he had stood there and watched.

You remembered as he had done nothing.

You remembered that you were alone.

Again.

Otto straightened, a ringing in your ears beginning to grow louder, “You are accused of treason; For the slaying of the Kings unborn child, aided by the traitor Maester. You are accused of conspiring with Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen against the Crown. You are accused of attempting to recruit Prince Aemond Targaryen to turn cloak and help your mothers cause. How do you plead against these charges?”

“What?” Your voice was so small, and sounded so far away.

This was it.

There was no going back now.

Aegon straightened on the monstrous throne of melted swords, “The Princess was given a gift by the Seven when my seed was put into her womb. She had made a confession to ensuring the death of her pregnancy out of spite when the Maester was charged. She has murdered my son. The Kings son. A highest of treasons.”

Your throat felt dry, “You raped me.”

Aegon’s lip twitched from the smirk he was holding back, “The Princess seduced me with promises of good behaviour for favours and fruit. Star fruit is your favourite, is it not?”

Aegon moaned as he heard you whimper, and let go of your throat, a lungful of air racing through your mouth as you gasped. Aegon fucked himself into you, the sound of his grunts and his flesh slapping against yours filled the chambers with your sobs.

Aemond bristled beside his brother, eye narrowed on you. His posture was straight, and as your eyes flicked from one brother to the other, you realised there was no hope.

There was no hope for you.

Aemond had made his choice.

And it was never to be you.

Aegon leant forward on the throne, silver hair shimmering in the light, “The Princess came to me after Prince Aemond left for Harrenhal. She was alone and angry at knowing that my brother was having an affair with the bastard wet-nurse, Alys Rivers. She begged me to warm her bed, and to give her an heir so that my brother would not suspect a thing.”

“You think the Knight would help you?” Aegon sneered, as you thrashed beneath him, pushing at him with all your strength, “Do you think he would listen to you? I could command him to come in here and make him watch, and he would do it. Should I call him for you?” He growled, fingers tightening around your throat, the room beginning to spin.

You swallowed thickly, the sounds of Aegon’s grunts breaking forth in your memory.

The night he attacked you.

The night he raped you.

The night that changed everything.

“That's a lie.” Your voice cracked, looking up at the King, “You came to my chambers, and held me down, and raped me.” Your eyes flicked across the room, meeting a pair of distressed brown ones, “Alicent, you know this to be the truth. You were there. You helped me.”

Alicent stepped forward, turning to her son, “Is this true, Aegon? Perhaps the Princess had not known the implications. The Maester must have deceived her, or forced her to do as she did under threat.”

Alicent had given you Moon Tea after Aegon.

She knew.

And she was lying.

"You're lying!" You sneered at the auburn haired woman.

Aegon looked down at his mother in mock pity, “Lord Larys Strong told me that she had been given Moon Tea after she was given my son. She had willingly and enthusiastically drank it, as she knew it was my child inside of her.”

Your stomach twisted in knots, and you felt as though you were going to be sick. But the anger of seeing Alicent play games with her own son, whilst her other watched you, was simply too much for you to bear.

Damn them all.

“The Queen gave me the Moon Tea.” You declared, voice clipped, "Is that not an act of treason? Try your own blood before the Council for the sins of your flesh.” Your hands came down to your side, clenched into fists.

You were not going to die in cowardice.

You would bite, and scratch, and claw until the end.

As you always had done.

“Princess Y/n, might I remind you that you are before the Small Council and King Aegon. You will have time to speak for your innocence when the King has finished his petition.” Otto cautioned you.

Your breathing became laboured, shallow, angry breaths that heaved.

It was that rage again.

That same rage that you had pushed down and away, that had been there at your finger tips, just beneath the surface of your skin, hiding in the shadows. The rage that you had clipped and preened like a rose bush, to not prick yourself on its thorns.

A rage that was innately yours.

Aegon straightened himself, the golden chains that sat heavily against his chest swaying with movement. He shifted, pulling himself to be seated in a stiff and upright position, as though one of the swords he was seated upon had slipped up his spine.

He looked every bit his mother.

And then he thought.

And the silence of the chambers was almost as deafening as the ringing in your ears. The pounding of your heart in your head, the rushing of the blood in your veins. You felt every bone in your body, the weight of them, the feel of them. Every tooth in your skull felt as though they were not sitting correctly, your tongue heavy and too large for your mouth.

Aemond shifted again in your periphery, taking two short steps forward towards you.

Coward.

“Swear yourself to me.” The King boomed in the chambers, his voice echoing in the space and decision made.

Aegon pushed himself to stand, looking down his nose at you.

“Bend the knee, and swear me as your King.”

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