#she hit us with that love triangle AGAIN

[telugu-girl-13]

how is Shannon so aware of her fandoms ships i will never understand

[the-witty-pen-name]

The Love Triangle from Hell (1)

Steve Harrington x F!Reader / Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Synopsis: Nancy is with Jonathan; Steve is still in love with Nancy; You're in love with Steve; Eddie's in love with you; Robin just wanted to have a movie night but everyone is making it weird.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: messy messy feelings; unrequited love; cursing; arguments; crying; angst angst angsty angst; drinking; Robin literally just trying to live her life but her friends are all idiots

A/N: I'm going to let y'all decide who our reader ends up with for this one- please let me know who you think our reader should pick! I think this will be another 5 part series. Please let me know what you think! Comments and reblogs and hitting up my asks are always so so so appreciated.

This series with be 18+ in later chapters MINORS DNI

It was always Nancy. No matter what it always came back to Nancy. It happened over and over and over like a broken record. Like a glutton for punishment, you always went back for more thinking to yourself this time it’s going to be different. Squished on the lumpy loveseat with Robin, you watch Steve as he watches Nancy. You were pathetic and you knew it. Hopelessly in love with someone who’d never in a million years look at you the way he’s looking at her.

Eddie sits on the floor between your legs with his back rested against the front of the couch as you aimlessly braid his hair. You run your fingers through his hair, carefully navigating through the tangles. You pull strains and weave them together without needing to think about it- you’ve done it a million times before. Eddie would let you do whatever you wanted, he loved the feeling of your hands in his hair. He’d lean his head back as far as he could manage, and shoot you an upside down smile. It always made you giggle before you would use your palm to gently put his head back into place. 

It was quite a sight for Robin, like the most fucked daytime drama never written, if she knew how to read the room and pick up on the very obvious clues before her. Steve, her platonic soulmate and best friend, pining over his ex-girlfriend while you, her other best friend, pine over Steve and all the while Eddie, Steve’s roommate and your other best friend, pines over you. It was enough to make her sick. All the while, Nancy is completely oblivious as she checks her watch, waiting expectantly for Jonathan- her actual boyfriend- to arrive. Despite the mess before her, Robin was none the wiser. 

She knew Steve was still hung up on Nancy, because he never shut up about her during their shifts. However, you felt you kept your lovesick crush on Steve under pretty good wraps. Unfortunately, Eddie was so preoccupied with you that he felt it every time your eyes were on Steve or he’d witnessed all the small things you’d do that convinced him you actually liked Steve. 

He’d watch as you couldn’t make eye contact with Steve, looking everywhere but him when he spoke. He’d watch the way you’d steal glances at him when you thought no one else was looking. He’d see the way you’d take a deep breath to compose yourself when you’d see Steve looking at Nancy. The same way you’d break your own heart looking around for Steve, he’d be doing the same looking at you watching him. 

You’d watched one too many movies where the guy realizes the right girl all along was his best friend. You thought if you were patient, Steve would realize he’d been in love with you the whole time and he never realized it. If you’re there for him in his times of heartbreak, he’d see that you’re so much better for him than anyone else. He’d see you, really see you, and know you were the one who was always there. 

“This movie doesn’t make any sense,” Robin said suddenly before reaching for the bowl of popcorn at the coffee table.

“Anthony Michael Hall is making a robot girlfriend because he can’t get girls,” Steve explains, coming off a little perturbed that Robin was talking during the movie again. 

“They could’ve just asked out a couple of more girls- they didn’t need to let their end all be all be two girls with boyfriends,” she continues and Steve scoffs. He couldn’t believe he was really about to have a debate on realism with Robin right now over fucking Weird Science. 

“This’ll actually happen one day,” Eddie muses and is met with four heads whipping around to give him the same weird look. “You’re telling me that like fifty years from now, no one will have this figured out? AV geeks are desperate enough- Ow!” You’d hit him playfully on the back of the head. 

“You’re not one to criticize anyone for being desperate, Munson,” Steve chuckles and Eddie promptly flips him off. “You don’t exactly have them lining up for you either.”

“It’s been a pretty dry few years yourself King Steve,” Eddie mocks, and you see Steve crack his knuckles nervously, hating the conversation going down this road. No one meant for it to happen, but now you’re all wrapped up reflecting in your own loneliness that the mood of the evening was almost completely dampened. 

“Can you guys be quiet,” Nancy chastises, “Some of us are trying to actually watch the movie.”

“You cannot be serious?” Robin giggles, “It’s a stupid movie, Nance.” 

The night took a weird shift. Jonathan did eventually stroll in and Nancy was understandably hurt that he was so late. He pulled a kitchen chair over to sit next to where Nancy sat but she promptly decided to ignore him, silently stewing instead of causing a scene. Steve recoiled back into his own head- Eddie’s King Steve comment affecting him more than he thought it would. He watched Anthony Michael Hall and kept wondering if this would be his fate- no bitches. Had he really been that guy to have peaked in high school and then is destined to end up alone?

Steve’s comment towards Eddie made him also get lost in his own stream of self deprecating thoughts. He knew Steve was joking- but there was truth to it that made it sting. Eddie didn’t have a lot of experience with girls, most girls- hell including the one he was actually in love with- wanted really nothing to do with him. He wasn’t that guy. Girls didn’t look at him like that like they looked at Steve- how you looked at Steve. It made him jealous and sad and made him feel so painstakingly lonely despite being in a room full of his closest friends as you played with his hair. He could scream. 

And as usual, you preoccupied yourself with Steve- thinking about what Steve could be thinking about or watching the way Steve anxiously rubbed his palms against his jeans. Was Steve thinking about Nancy? Maybe, just maybe, you could catch him looking at you, even if just once. Maybe Steve would get up and go to the kitchen, and it could be an opening for you to check in with him since he’s seemed off tonight. You felt hopeless. 

Robin just assumed most people were quiet because they genuinely were watching the movie, but she realized something was wrong when she was the only person laughing. It couldn’t be that she was the only one who wanted to crack jokes or laugh at this godforsaken movie. She eventually caught on to something brewing in the air amongst her friends and it was incredibly unsettling. 

“GOD! I can’t take it anymore!” She exclaims, and everyone jumps. “What is wrong with everybody tonight? You all are acting so effing weird and I can’t stand it.” 

“Everyone’s fine, Robin,” you offer, trying to diffuse the tension. She shooks you a look. A “do you think I’m fucking stupid” look that could kill. Fair enough, you think to yourself. 

“Clearly something is wrong,” she reiterates. Annoyed with Nancy, Jonathan takes the bait and casts the first stone. 

“I don’t know,” Jonathan muses, looking at Nancy before letting out his irritation, “Might have to do with the fact you hang around with your ex all the time- and it’s clearly obvious he still has feelings for you.” 

Nancy gasps, offended that Jonathan would bring a fight that they’d had before into the room for everyone to comment on. Jonathan knew how Steve felt, and Nancy’s refusal to acknowledge his concerns on numerous occasions has finally made Jonathan hit his breaking point. He needed her to realize that he wasn’t jealous of Steve- but Steve was jealous of him. Nancy denied that Steve still held feelings for her. She was actually oblivious. 

“Steve and I are just friends!” Nancy insists, “I have told you that and told you that! It’s like you don’t trust me!”

“I don’t trust him!” Jonathan emphasizes. “Whether you want to acknowledge it or not, he still likes you and you still keep hanging around with him when you’re supposed to be with me, Nance.”

“I am with you! I’m your girlfriend, not his,” she snaps. “Steve, come on, please tell him he’s being ridiculous.” 

Most unfortunately, Steve stutters. He hesitates and fumbles, and couldn’t lie fast enough. The pregnant seconds where he’s at a loss for words tells Jonathan everything he needs to know. It doesn’t feel good to know he was right. 

“Sounds about right,” Jonathan scoffs.

“It’s not her fault-” Steve tried to interject. 

“Stay out of it Steve,” Jonathan sighs, “please.”

This fight was not about Steve, and everyone knew it. This was about Jonathan, and the way he hurt when Nancy dismissed his feelings. It was about how she didn’t take his concerns seriously or ever was willing to talk about it. He was sick of being dismissed as paranoid or jealous. He knew Nancy had no idea how Steve felt, but it wasn’t an excuse to inadvertently gaslight him when he knew something felt off. 

“I’m going home,” Nancy says, sitting up suddenly in hopes of making a swift exit to save her pride. 

“Nope!” Robin interjects, “We aren’t done. I’m not letting any of you leave until all of it is out in the open. I can’t go on like this. You guys are my best friends and we are working all of this shit out.” She takes a steady breath and Nancy surprisingly sits back down calmly. “So props to Jonathan for getting the ball rolling,” Robin quips, “let’s actually keep talking things out, yeah?”

“Steve?” Nancy looks at him, and she looks hurt. She feels so betrayed- like all of the times they’ve spent together as friends has been a lie. A ruse to win her back- she feels lied to and like she’s simultaneously lost a friend in the same breath. It guts her. She’s too stunned to even know what to say. 

Steve keeps his head down, too ashamed to look at anyone. He holds his head in his hands. You watch him intently, you absorb all his hurt like a sponge. You keep your gaze on him, wanting to reach out and comfort him. You look like a puppy who's been hit on the nose with a newspaper and Eddie scoffs. 

“Something you’d like to share with the class, Munson?” Robin turns, picking up on Eddie’s disgust. He shakes his head and avoids her knowing gaze. Fuck it, he thinks to himself. 

“I’m fucking pissed,” Eddie announces, standing up. The braid you were in the process of making slowly unravels as he moves. He looks to you and then to Steve. “I’m not even pissed at anyone, I’m just stewing in my own self-hatred because I’m in love with her.” Eddie points to you dramatically, not even realizing how much he’s revealing as his emotions get the best of him. “But she’s so in love with you,” Eddie points a finger at Steve, “That she doesn’t even notice me.”

“I don’t even blame anyone- of course you love Steve, you know? It just fucking sucks because I watch you and you’re always watching him and you keep hoping he’s going to see you and he never does. Meanwhile, I’m so in love with you that it physically hurts and I can never tell you because you’re my best friend and Steve is my best friend. And if you like her back, Steve, you should go for it. I can’t even put myself out there cause scenario one, I lose you,” Eddie gestures to you. “Scenario two- Steve gets his head out of his ass and you two finally get together. I lose both of you, because I can’t put myself through watching someone I’m in love with be with someone else. Or scenario three- you and I do get together and I’m all in- I swear to god, I would be all fucking in. But would you ever even love me as much as you’ve loved him? I don’t know.” 

It’s your turn to be stunned. For the first time, Steve’s looking at you and it’s not at all what you hoped it would be. You recognize the look in his eye, it’s the same way Nancy was just looking at him. Pity. You know then and there that Steve never once thought about you the way you hoped he secretly did. It was all made up in your head. Eddie looks defeated, and mortified all at the same time. He shocked himself at his outburst. He’d always been one for dramatics but never at your expense. He feels so guilt ridden that he could shrivel up and let the world swallow him whole. 

“I, uh, need to get some air,” you say. You grab your jacket from the hook and slide on your shoes in one fluid motion. “I’ll be back,” you say quickly, slamming the door behind you as you left Eddie and Steve’s apartment. You can’t help as the tears stream down your face uncontrollably. It’s one of those cries where it’s so hard you can’t even make noise as it takes all of your breath away. You’re practically doubled over in the midst of a panic attack when Eddie finds you leaning against the building. 

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” he says earnestly, “That was so fucked up. I am so, so sorry. That wasn’t fair to you, that was such a shitty thing for me to say.” 

You manage to nod to let him know you heard him, but you’re blubbering and you’re still struggling to get your breath back. Hiccuped breaths finally catch up to you and you feel your lungs slowly begin to refill with air. The night’s cold air helps to clear your sinuses in one big breath. You wipe your face with the sleeves of your jacket. You can’t bring yourself to look at him just yet. 

“Steve is so lucky,” Eddie says after another few moments of silence. “To be loved by you?” He chuckles, taking a lean on the wall next to you. “Lucky bastard,” he jokes, and you manage a forced smile through the tears. “Must be the best damn thing in the whole world and he doesn’t even realize it,” he continues more seriously. “Well, until now, when I ruined everything,” he finalizes, sheepishly. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t realize it either,” you mumble, “God, what Steve was doing to me- I was doing to you? Fuck.” 

“Fucked up, right?” he teases. “How’s it feel, heartbreaker?”

“Really, really shitty,” you settle on and he laughs. 

“Yup,” he agrees, making a pop sound at the end. “Really, really shitty. Indeed.” 

“God, I wasted so much fucking time,” you admit to yourself. 

“I didn’t mean it,” he says softly, helping fix the collar of your jacket. It was tucked in because you put it on so fast and didn’t bother to fix it. “That I wouldn’t be able to trust you with Steve or whatever if we hypothetically got together or whatever- it was just a really, really ugly insecurity that bubbled up. If after this all blows over and you don’t completely hate my guts, and maybe by some miracle you wanted to give us a chance, I wouldn’t hold your feelings for Steve over you like that.” 

“Did you mean it that I’d lose you?” you ask, looking to him. He shakes his head. 

“I was talking out of my ass,” he admits, “I was emotional and just letting my frustration get the better of me. I won’t stop being your friend if you don’t like me back.”

“I’ve been doing that already,” he jokes and you swat his arm. 

“Not funny,” you grumble, but you can’t find it in you to actually be upset. 

“I don’t want an answer from you now,” he says, shifting back to a serious tone, but you can hear how nervous he is. “But if and when you get over Steve, and you realize I’m not that bad to look at- maybe you and I could go out sometime. I’m putting the ball in your court. I just want you to be happy. If you end up with Steve, I’m your best man. You end up with me, I’ll work my hardest every damn day to make you so fucking happy. No matter what, I will be your friend. You aren’t losing me.”

“Thank you,” you smile, and you pull him into a hug. You finally start to feel okay again. You feel like you could get over Steve, but then you remember that everyone inside is waiting for you- including Steve. The anxiety begins to stir and you can’t imagine facing everyone now after all of this. 

“I got you,” Eddie whispers, taking your hand, “We’ll go back together.” 

Eddie’s held your hand a million times before, but it wasn’t until now that you realize how well your hand fits in his. You shake your head to erase the thought from your mind for now and try to relax. The walk back up to the apartment is much longer than it’s ever felt before.

No one says anything when you both come back. You and Eddie kick off your shoes and he helps you take your jacket off. You sniffle, and quickly take your seat back on the loveseat. Eddie slips into the kitchen and grabs a six pack from the fridge. He holds it up like a fish he’s just caught triumphantly. 

“I think we all need one, yeah?” He jokes and he diffuses the tension as everyone agrees in tandem. He pulls them apart from the plastic ring, tossing them out. He throws you a wink when he tosses you yours and you can’t help but smile. 

“Can I just say,” Robin says, “Had I known you all were upset about actually serious stuff- I wouldn’t have opened this can of worms. I thought you were just pissed at each other about the comments about not getting laid.”

Nancy and Jonathan must have made up while you were outside because instead of separate seats, Jonathan sat on the living room chair and Nancy was perched on his lap. Steve was just watching you. Suddenly, it didn’t matter that Nancy was there. He was fixated on looking at you. He was taking in everything about you like he was looking at you, really looking at you for the first time. 

Fuck, if you weren’t beautiful, Steve thinks. He always knew you were, but he never really thought about it until now. Even after crying, you just look so pretty. He’s pained knowing he’s caused you so much pain. He looks to Eddie and feels jealousy rise irrationally. He’s jealous of Eddie for realizing how perfect you were before he did. It’s so fucking petty and he knows it. Eddie’s had all this time to adore you, while he’s squandered it following around Nancy like a simp. He’s loved you and lost you in the same fucking night.

“Let’s keep going,” Eddie jokes, trying to make light of the situation, “Air out more grievances- Buckley, you need new shoes. Those fucking chucks are abhorrent- please, get new ones. They are why your back hurts all the time.” 

“Okay, Mr. Same White Reeboks Since Senior Year,” she taunts, feigning offense to his jab. “Keep my converse out of your mouth!”

“I have boots now,” he says, pointing to the leather boots by the door. “Much more metal.” 

“Cause it’s fucking January, Eddie,” Robin says with a laugh, “Of course you’re wearing fucking boots.”

“Yet you strolled into my house wearing Converse,” he says walking over the the floor and pointing at Robin’s worse for wear Chuck Taylors. “It was snowing this morning, Robin! Please, as your friend- please let ME get you new shoes.”

“You can pry those shoes off of me when I’m dead,” she raises her voice. The lighthearted air has returned to the evening. It felt like it had been salvaged for now. Everyone seemed to be feeling better, except Steve. As the world began to pick up again, he was paralyzed- burdened with the knowledge of your feelings for him and knowing he might be too late to do anything about it. Was it?

PART TWO

[bluem1lls]

hii!! can u write a se-mi x female guard reader and theyre already lovers even before the game started. when reader realized that se mi is in the game, she secretly protected her. when the reader revealed herself to se mi in the bthroom they kinda argued,,

✧₊⁺ i'm mr. loverman (and i miss my lover)

se-mi x fem!reader

✦ synopsis: you're so in love with your friend with benefits that you'll risk your life to keep her safe, even if it's all to let her go in the end.

content: angst, guard! reader x player! se-mi

authors note: hi!!! tysm for your request, i hope u like it!

⋆｡°✩ her fingers feel so good inside that, combined with her lust-filled face that roams your features, you think you can cry from the sight alone.

"yes, yes, yes, just like that" your head hits the wall with a choked moan once she allows you to finish.

as you're coming down from your haze, she kisses you.

her kisses so rough, that you're used to being out of breath afterwards.

she lays you in bed, gently getting on top.

"you're my pretty girl.. and i'll miss. you. so. much" she says, kissing you after every word.

please, make it never ending.

"why can't i go with you?" you pouted as she shook her head no.

"i need to take this trip by myself. i told you.. i need to solve a few issues before.. we get more serious" she says as she hears your sigh. "i want that baby, i really do."

you nod, a bit hesitant, resting your head on her chest. you can feel heart beating, which pulls a smile from your lips.

"we can have a morning quickie, as a goodbye"

she hums as she kisses your forehead in agreement.

"mmm.. such a nice way to say goodbye." she replies as you chuckle. "but i still need one more round, just.. to make sure i'm leaving you all satisfied"

you smirk, lifting your head as your eyes find eachother. your lips meet hers once again.

"make me" she grins, quickly getting on top, covering the naked bodies with the white sheets.

⋆｡°✩ you place the mask over your face, following 015 to the 'red lights, green lights' room. stepping in, you remove the mask and drop the case on the floor, putting the weapon together.

practicing the aiming, you check the new players. you would judge them but, weren't you just one stupid more?

as you got ready for the game, the doll turned around, letting you hear the little song you knew all too well.

everyone started running, slowing the pace as it screamed red light.

you found an already familiar face guiding the newbies, oh? well he's..huh. player 456. that's actually cool.

you scanned the room as the game kept going, finding a face you had imprinted in your brain.

huh, she's pretty.

she has..

pretty brown eyes, short brown hair, piercings.

huh.

your eyes shut closed, trying to supress the angry scream.

the girl looked just like se-mi!

no wait.

it was fucking se-mi.

"fuck."

pulling your hair, you tried to focus during the game, you can't lose it now.

you tried to keep your shots far away from her, trying to not make her flinch or anything that made her move.

as she got to the finish line, a sigh of relief ran through your body.

you couldn't face her now though, that'd be reckless.

⋆｡°✩ as the night came, you stirred in bed. shivers running through your body as you kept thinking about her.

you slowly got dressed, walking where the players went through to go to the bathroom, you nudge your partner to go.

i mean, you weren't a big thing here, but they respected you as a triangle, at least the newbies (circles).

so as he left, you stood there, checking on her through the small window.

you located her on the bed, asleep. she was all alone and you almost ran in there to sleep with her, but you couldn't.

pressing your lips together, you sighed, hoping everything could end soon.

⋆｡°✩ a new day, the end of a new game. you prayed that she made it, as you couldn't be there present for it.

you stood on the bathroom door, guarding, as you kept thinking.

how could you ask them without being suspicious?

maybe grab a circle and ask, then kill him.

or um.. maybe go down to the bathroom door? like last night and look for her?

no, maybe you could-

no need, because as you kept thinking of ways to find out if she was alive after 'six-legged pentathlon' while taking custody, she stood there in front of you.

"can i go orrr.. you'll shoot me?" she smirked, eyeing me up and down.

you swore, if she kept being a brat, you'll throw the mask and kiss her. a few ways to makeout and have a quickie came to your mind.

you nod at her, your gun pointing to the door as she enters, leaving your sight.

at least the brat was alive. thank god.

⋆｡°✩ as you kept with your nightly ritual, you found yourself in the little hallway where the players walked for the bathroom.

you could see her chuckling, she was sitting down with a few guys, manspreading as always.

your eyes roamed her body, and then her face. she was so attractive.

you wouldn't judge any of the girls here if they fell for her.

judge doesn't mean you wouldn't shoot them though.

⋆｡°✩ a new day, a new game.

mingle.

as you stood there, your eyesight found her. she was scanning the room, walking with the same group you saw her yesterday.

moving aside with gun in hand, you stared as her brown eyes started to show a hint of fear as the platform begin spinning.

she does the first round, the second one.

but on third one, something feels weird as you see her talking with this guy, a frown on her face.

your heart shatters as you see her three partners run to a room without her.

fuck no. she's not gonna die here.

you stare side to side, as the guards are busy, keeping their focus on otherways.

good.

you get close, poking her with the gun as she turns around, surprise all over her face. you could see that she'd given up. that broke your heart even more.

"196 and 133 are missing one. run" you mumble, but she can still hear you.

she stays there frozen as you poke her again. she seems to react this time as she runs with them into a room, although she keeps turning back to stare, trying to find out more about you.

you go back to your position. once mingle ends, you let out a breathing that you didn't even knew you were holding.

⋆｡°✩ you can't sleep that night, knowing she's there, probably staring at the ceiling thinking about what happened today, just like you.

you miss her so much you feel like you're about to leave everything to go and help her.

because you would. you'd drop everything for her.

⋆｡°✩ light's out was next. you knew that.

you can never be too careful, right?

as you run downstairs, placing the mask on your face, you find another guard with the triangle instead of circle, like you're used to.

fuck.

"039, what are you-" you cut him abruptly, choking him with your arm.

once his body goes limp, you hide it behind the door.

you start looking for her, she's not in her bed.

a bad feeling running through your veins.

fuck it. it's worth it for her.

as you hide your gun, you enter the common room. the light's are flashing, making it worse to locate her. everyone is in such a rush, they don't even see you. if they did, they're too busy being stabbed to death.

where is she?? WHERE the fuck is she????

you look near her bed, she's not there. you stare behind, the sides. she's. not. there.

fuckk.

you find her friend...min su? on top of a bed, quickly, you run to him. once you're close enough, you could hear a whimper.

no. please. not her.

"se-mi?" you scream with fear, voice almost trembling. "se-mi!?"

your eyes find her cornered against the wall. she already has a wound close to her neck.

what's it gonna be? your life of her's?

there's no doubt.

you aim and shoot. his body falls on top of her as she gasps. her gaze finds yours.

she throws his body to the ground, running to your side.

"who the fuck are you?" she tries to pull the mask as you stop her, holding her wrist.

"not here. bathroom"

she follows you to the bathroom, her body shivers.

"are you cold?"

"no. just.. had a very close death experience" she replies coldly.

there's nothing left to say other than pressing your lips while nodding.

once you get there, you step in first, checking to see if it's empty. you sign her to follow you as she enters, closing the door behind her.

she swiftly pushes you against the wall, holding a shard of broken glass to your throat. "who. the fuck. are you?"

"if you let me, i'll show you" she hesitates but backs up. you remove the mask and everything that covers your face and hair.

her mouth opens in shock. please, not this.

"you're fucking kidding me right? is this some kind of sick joke?" she says, staring wide eyed. "you were the one who helped me today and..oh my god. this entire time it was you"

as you try to get closer, she slaps your hand, rejecting you.

"se-mi, please"

"i can't believe you accepted this. do you have fun killing people? what if- what if you had to kill me?" anger slips through her words.

"i-i dont, se-mi" your eyes close, a few tears threaten to spill. "you lied to me too.. there was never a trip-"

"it's different! i came here to fucking end my debts to have our happy ending! you're just here for pleasure!

"it's not pleasure se-mi. i get fucking paid for this too, i need the money as much as you do" your voice elevates.

tears roll down your cheeks. it's useless.

"can we talk better outside?" you hiccup. "may-maybe when this is done we can get back home and-"

she dry chuckles, shooking her head no.

"you're fucking insane if you think there's an 'us' outside after this"

oh.

she must've seen your fat tears rolling down your cheeks because she attempts to comfort you, the habit being stronger than her. she closed her fist before any move, trying to control herself.

"right." you try to move but all you could do was try to breathe. if you didn't left this place in 2 minutes, you'll have a breakdown.

her gaze filled with anger, starts to disappear once she sees your teary eyes.

"fuck. im- i didn't meant- i" she stutters as her hands cover her face. "i fucked up, i didn't mean to say that-"

its too late, because you start placing all to cover yourself once again. she grabs your arm to stop you as you remove her grip.

"princess, i'm- exhausted and i'm confused and i'm fucking pissed i had you here all along, and my fucking 'friend' tried to kill me and he died in front of me because my girlfriend is the guard at this fucked up place and-" she pulls her hair as she takes a deep breath, clearly stressed.

she closes her eyes, this must be a fucked up nightmare, she thinks.

"baby- i'm sorry."

"you're not the only one who's been having it hard sem. you think this is a birthday party? you get paid to murder your own partners too. you killed them everytime you hit the circle. i need this too. the money- it goes all to my parents se-mi. i don't kill for fun. you need the money to pay your debts and i need the money to keep my parents alive." a sob escapes from your mouth as she looks at you, regret takes over her.

"but i'm fucking glad you lived though. as i'm also glad you lived in 'green light, red light' when i tried to avoid shooting near you to stop you from flinching. as i'm glad i kept you alive, even if i had to stay all night on the door to look after you while you slept after the games. as i'm glad i fucking saved you, while your friends left you to die."

you grab the mask, turning around as her mouth agapes like a fish, trying to find some words to say.

she has none. she knows you're right. or maybe you're both morally gray. you're as fucked up as she is.

and maybe now, she realizes it would've been better if there were no lies from the beggining.

"baby.." she murmurs as you start to head out the door, walking away.

"take care se-mi. i- i did everything i could. i had to pick between your life and mine. and i chose you. there's a big chance they'll kill me if they see the tapes, but at least you get out of here alive." you said, placing the mask again to cover your face.

and you leave. and she lets you leave.

and she cries against the wall until there are no more tears left to cry.

maybe she lost the game, but most importantly, she lost her lover.

and now, there's not a home to come back to, because you won't be there when she does.

[scarluna]

Y/N, a gifted but self-conscious graphic designer, lands a job at Jeon Enterprises, a powerhouse ruled by the sharp and controlling Jeon Jungkook, whose ruthless perfectionism hides behind an enigmatic façade. Though admired and feared, Jungkook targets Y/N’s insecurities, using them as weapons against her.

Beside him stands his best friend, Min Yoongi, a sly and unpredictable force whose hot-and-cold behavior leaves Y/N questioning his motives.

Tangled in a web of cold authority, teasing games, and unspoken desire, Y/N must navigate a dangerous love triangle where ambition and emotion collide, threatening to unravel everything.

Pairing: Jungkook x Fem!Reader x Min Yoongi

Genre/Tags: plus sized reader, enemies to lovers, ceo!jungkook, graphic designer!reader, mafia!yoongi

Link to the other chapters: ACT I / ACT II / ACT III / ACT IV / ACT VI / ACT VII / ACT VIII

Chapters: 5 / ?

Chapter Warnings: mature language, bullying, slow burn, enemies to lovers

A/N: Thank you all so much for the likes and the comments. I did not think this story would become so liked. Again, thank you and enjoy! x

ACT V.

I climbed onto the bus and found an empty seat near the back. The hum of the engine and the faint chatter of passengers filled the air, but it all felt distant. My mind was a swirling storm of everything that had happened, and I couldn’t focus on anything else. I stared out the window as the city blurred past, the gray sky above mirroring the heaviness in my chest.

The tears threatened to spill again, but I clenched my fists and bit the inside of my cheek to hold them back. Not here. Not in front of strangers. I kept my face turned to the window, pretending to watch the scenery, hoping no one would notice how broken I felt inside. I had sunken in that headspace again, where I felt helpless and I didn't felt human at all. It was a nightmare for me. My mind was only stuck in the past and the pain was never ending cycle.

When the bus finally reached my stop, I stepped off into the cool air. My feet carried me the short distance to my apartment automatically, like I was on autopilot. The moment I closed the door behind me, the silence hit, and with it came the flood of emotions I’d been trying to keep at bay.

I dropped my bag by the door and slumped against the wall, sliding down until I was sitting on the floor. My chest heaved as the first sob broke free, and then another, and another, until I was crying uncontrollably. All the frustration, anger, and pain from today—hell, from the past few days—poured out of me in waves. I hugged my knees to my chest, rocking slightly, as if trying to comfort myself. Since I was a kid there was no one to comfort me, all the adults I once had believed in were never there for me. My dad was an alcoholic who used to mentally abuse me, my mom and my brother. My mother to this day is obsessed with control and she has always had the mentality of the victim. My brother was always the one who was cherished more, as the only boy of the family. And of course, I was thrown to the side with my emotional needs. So at this point, I had to be there for myself. And as grew up in adult, I felt comfortable crying and picking my pain alone rather than being vulnerable with someone. I knew I was broken, I didn't know how broken until now. 

I stayed like that for hours, crying until my throat was raw and my head pounded. Everything became a blur and I felt my body shaking. My breath was cut short and this is when I realized I was having an anxiety attack. I tried to grip at whatever I could find, my bag or my clothing as I sharply braeathed in and out of my nose, counting random numbers. At some point, my phone started buzzing incessantly, but I ignored it. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, didn’t want to explain or relive any of it. I was busy prioritizing myself at this very moment and nothing else mattered.

When the tears finally stopped, I felt hollow. My body ached from the tension, and my eyes were sore and swollen. I sat there in silence for what felt like forever, staring at nothing, feeling like I had nothing left to give. Eventually, I forced myself to stand, my movements sluggish and heavy.

I shuffled to the bathroom and turned on the shower, stripping off my clothes while the water heated up. The warmth of the shower felt soothing against my skin, like it was washing away the mess of the day and all the negative emotions I have felt until now. When I stepped out, I wrapped myself in a towel, drying off quickly before changing into sweats and grabbing Hades’ leash.

My dog greeted me eagerly, his tail wagging as if sensing I needed comfort. “Come on, boy,” I murmured, attaching the leash to his collar. His soft brown eyes met mine, and I felt a small pang of warmth in my chest. At least I had him. Hades was the only one that I felt was giving me the unconditional love I so desperately craved.

We went for a short walk around the block. The cold air biting at my skin but somehow grounding me. Hades trotted happily beside me, occasionally sniffing at patches of grass or barking at squirrels. His enthusiasm was a welcome distraction from the mess in my head, and for a brief moment, I felt like I could breathe again.

When we got back, I gave him a treat and collapsed into bed, wrapping myself in the blankets yet again. My body was exhausted, but sleep didn’t come easily. My mind replayed everything—the picture, Yoongi’s words, Rya’s betrayal, Tina’s cruelty—until I finally slipped into a restless slumber.

-

When my alarm went off, it took every ounce of willpower I had to drag myself out of bed. My eyes were dry, almost painfully so, but the crying had done its work—I felt an empty hollow shell of myself. I had realized that I slept for more than ten hours which was a record, yet I still didn't feel refreshed at all. I felt the same slump as I did yesterday. I didn't even manage to have any dinner, not that I felt like eating at all. In the last few days I skept meals way too much and I noticed my clothes growing bigger on me, which was odd because I wasn't a person to skip any meal. 

I finally went through the motions of getting ready: a quick shower, brushing my hair, slapping on some concealer to hide the evidence of my breakdown. The reflection in the mirror didn’t look like me at all. I couldn't recognize the person I had became. I was drowning in my own pain and it was getting harder to keep my head above the water. Grasping the sink, I stilled for a moment to give myself sometime to breathe. In and out. Until I felt I was grounded in my body and in my mind.

The bus ride to work felt endless. I kept my headphones in, the music drowning out the world around me as I stared out the window. I wasn’t ready for today, I wasn’t ready to face anyone, but I didn’t have a choice. I had to hold my head high and continue to push further. I shouldn't run away because these things would keep hunting me.

When I stepped into the office, the usual hustle and bustle felt distant, like I was walking through a dream.The people and their chatters almost sounded as an echo as I made my way toward my desk. It was Thursday now, and all I could think about was how close the masquerade ball was. 

I sat at my desk, turning on my computer and trying to focus, but my mind was still a jumbled mess. The excitement I’d once felt for the ball was gone, replaced by a dull ache in my chest. What was the point of pretending to care about it? Everything felt meaningless now.

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to start working. One task at a time, I told myself. Just get through the day and go home. I was too mentally exhausted with everything at this point. I typed on my keyboard, my eyes raking over the screen and the e-mail I was typing.

The office felt heavier than usual as I worked, staring blankly at the screen in front of me. The steady hum of keyboards and muted voices of my coworkers swirled around me, but I didn’t register any of it. 

“Y/N?”

I didn’t have to look up to know who it was. That voice—soft, hesitant—made my stomach churn. I clenched my jaw, refusing to acknowledge her presence. My eyes stayed glued to the screen, fingers tapping faster on the keyboard in an attempt to appear busy.

“Can I talk to you? Please?” Rya’s voice was quiet, almost trembling.

I didn’t respond. I didn’t even turn my head. The silence stretched between us and I could feel her discomfort, her desperation hanging in the air.

“I just... I need to explain. I didn’t mean for it to—”

“Don’t.” My voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. I turned to her slowly, my expression cold and unyielding. “I don’t want to hear any of it, Rya. What's done is done.”

Her face crumpled, her lips pressing together as if trying to hold back tears. “I messed up, okay? I know I did. I—I shouldn’t have sent that picture to Hoseok. I thought it was just—”

“Just what?” I snapped, finally swiveling my chair to face her fully. “Funny? Harmless? What exactly did you think was going to happen?”

Her shoulders slumped, her gaze falling to the floor. “I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking, Y/N. I was just... being stupid. I didn’t think he’d actually—”

I held up a hand, cutting her off. “I don’t care what you were thinking, Rya. You sent something private—something personal—to someone else without my permission. Do you have any idea what that feels like?”

She looked up at me, tears welling in her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’ll do anything to make it right. Please, just—”

“Make it right?” I let out a humorless laugh, shaking my head. “You can’t. It’s done. And I don’t want your apology.”

Before she could say anything else, another voice interrupted.

“Y/N.”

I looked up to see Hoseok standing a few feet away, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He looked guilty, his eyes avoiding mine at first before he forced himself to meet my gaze.

Great. Just what I needed.

“I want to apologize as well, it wasn't okay for me to do that—” he asked, his voice low.

I scoffed, leaning back in my chair. “I don't need your apology.”

“Please,” he said, stepping closer. “I messed up as well, okay? I shouldn’t have shown that picture to anyone. I just wanted to show off how happy you looked that night. It was immature and wrong, and I’m sorry. I—I wasn’t trying to hurt you, I swear.”

I stared at him, my expression unreadable. “But you did. Both of you did.”

Hoseok sighed, running a hand through his hair. He seemed worried and frustrated. “I know. I was stupid, and I regret it more than anything. I’ve felt like crap ever since. Please, Y/N, I’m begging you. Just give us a chance to make it up to you.”

I shook my head, standing up from my chair. “You don’t get to feel bad about this, Hoseok. Neither of you do. You made your choices, and now you have to live with them.”

Rya sniffled beside me, her voice barely a whisper. I could see that she has been crying, her eyes were red and her face was swollen. “Y/N, please—”

“No,” I said firmly, cutting her off. “We’re done here. Both of you, leave me alone.”

Without another word, I slowly stood up headed to the break room to escape the suffocating tension. My hands were trembling as I leaned against the counter, trying to steady my breathing. Thankfully they didn't follow me or else I'd have leashed on them even worse than I did back there. Soft sigh escaped my lips as I closed my eyes.

They might have been sorry, but their apologies didn’t mean anything to me. Not now. Maybe not ever. I could feel the entire office's eyes on me as I arrived here this morning, their judgy stares, the way they would whisper about me as I passed by . . . it almost felt like I was in high school all over again. I hated it.

The cool stream of water poured steadily into the glass I had picked from the cabinet as I focused on controlling my breathing. The break room felt quieter than usual, the faint hum of the refrigerator filling the space. I brought the glass to my lips, taking a small sip, when the sound of approaching footsteps broke the stillness.

I turned my head just as Jungkook entered the room, his sharp suit tailored perfectly, his posture confident yet somehow intimidating. He glanced at me briefly, his expression unreadable as he made his way to the coffee machine.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice even and professional as he greeted. That man was so cold. I could feel the chills in the room. He stared at my face for far too long to be comfortable. I tried to look away, but he grabbed my jaw. My breath stopped for a moment. The way he touched me, so gently, his skin felt burning sensation on me.* "Have you been crying?" he asked, tone low and demanding. I sighed and shrugged. "None of your business if I did." I could practically hear him roll his eyes. My Boss was not a man who tolerated such answers, but in my case, he remained silent. Instead, he changed the subject rather quickly and I was appreciating that, because I was not ready to talk about how I was with anyone. “About the 2 PM meeting today. You’ll need to be ready with the brief.”

I set the glass down on the counter, nodding. “I’ve got it handled.”

“Good.” He poured himself a cup of coffee and added, “Make sure Tina looks over it before you hand it to me.”

The words made me freeze for a split second. I turned to him, my expression hardening. “No.”

He looked up from his coffee cup, eyebrows slightly raised. “Excuse me?”

“I’m not giving Tina my work,” I said firmly, meeting his gaze without flinching. “I’ll present it directly to you.”

Jungkook sighed, leaning against the counter as he crossed his arms. “Y/N, Tina is your direct manager. It’s her job to review your work before it reaches me.”

“And it’s my job to make sure the work is actually done right,” I shot back, my tone sharper than intended. “Every time Tina gets involved, she messes things up. This is important, and I’m not taking that risk.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought he might argue. But then he exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Fine. You can present it directly to me. But don’t let this happen again. The hierarchy is there for a reason, Y/N. We can’t just ignore it.”

I rolled my eyes, but I didn’t argue further. It was already a small victory.

He took a sip of his coffee, his eyes briefly studying me. Then, in a tone noticeably cooler, he asked, “I hope you are feeling better than yesterday. That doesn't mean you should slack at your work, understood?” His gaze was sharp, and yet there was something softer lurking beneath the surface.

“I won't,” I said curtly, my defenses snapping back into place.

Jungkook’s expression didn’t change, but he gave a slight nod before turning to leave the break room.

As the door swung shut behind him, I let out a slow breath. My hands still trembled slightly from the conversation me and him had, but I refused to let it show. If there was one thing I had to prove today, it was that I could handle myself—and my work—without interference.

-

By the time the meeting started, the tension in the room was palpable. Tina sat stiffly across the table from me, her lips pressed into a thin line. Jungkook, ever the professional, appeared calm, but there was a hint of worry in his expression. Whether it was about Yoongi’s absence that went unnoticed by me as well or something else, he didn’t let on.

As we began, I passed copies of my brief directly to Jungkook and the other key members of the team. Tina shot me a pointed look, her eyes narrowing. Rya and Hoseok looked at me as if they tried to say something but I did not give thim that opportunity.

“Y/N,” she said, her tone clipped, “you were supposed to send this to me first.”

“I decided it was better to present it directly,” I replied, keeping my voice neutral but firm as I reached my seat and sat back down.

Tina’s glare hardened, but before she could say anything further, Jungkook cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Let’s focus on the content of the work,” he said, flipping through the pages. His expression shifted slightly as he reviewed my document, a hint of approval crossing his features. He set the papers down and looked at me.

“Good work, Y/N. This is thorough and well-presented. It shows that you had improvement since last time.” Is he serious? I wanted to roll my eyes so fucking bad but I did not. Soft sigh escaped my lips. At the same time however, I fought to keep the pride from showing too much on my face but couldn’t stop a small, satisfied smile from tugging at my lips.

Jungkook turned to Tina, his tone calm but pointed. “Tina, I understand you’re managing multiple aspects of the team, but when Y/N expresses concerns about her work being compromised, those concerns need to be heard. You should take her input seriously going forward. That said, the two of you need to keep collaborating effectively.”

Tina’s jaw clenched, but she nodded stiffly. “Understood.”

I couldn’t resist. Leaning back slightly in my chair, I fixed her with a steady gaze, my smirk subtle but unmistakable. Her eyes flicked to mine briefly before she looked away, her irritation clear.

Satisfied, I shifted my attention back to Jungkook as he moved on to the next topic on the agenda: the current project documentation.

“The documentation for the ongoing projects needs a thorough review,” Jungkook said. “There have been inconsistencies flagged by the higher-ups, and we need to make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

The discussion continued, but I barely registered Tina’s contributions. The small victory from earlier left me feeling hyped, even as I knew the real challenges lay ahead. Jungkook’s approval meant something, even if his cold professionalism sometimes made it hard to tell.

As the meeting wrapped up, I caught Jungkook’s gaze briefly. He nodded once, almost imperceptibly, before gathering his papers and leaving the room. Tina stormed out soon after, her heels clicking against the floor.

I allowed myself one more small, triumphant smile before heading back to my desk to finish my current brief.

-

The night had already fallen by the time I finally managed to clear my apartment. The chaos from the past few days had left my place in disarray—papers scattered on the floor, dishes piled up in the sink, and the weight of everything I was trying to avoid pressed against the walls. But now, as I wiped down the last countertop and took a deep breath, it was like a small weight had been lifted. At least something in my life felt under control, even if it was just this tiny corner of my world.

I collapsed onto the couch, trying to relax for a moment before I had to dive back into whatever would come next. But just as I settled, my phone buzzed loudly on the table. I picked it up with a sigh, already knowing who it was from.

Tae <3

I’d seen his name flashing on my screen in these days, but I couldn’t bring myself to answer. I hadn’t been in the right frame of mind, but now, with everything finally settling down a little, I pressed the green button.

“Hey, Tae,” I said softly, my voice hoarse from the days of tension.

“Y/N! I’ve been trying to reach you for days,” he said, his voice filled with concern. “Are you okay? I… am worried.”

I let out a slow exhale, feeling a knot form in my chest as I tried to explain what had happened. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just… it’s been a rough couple of days. There’s a lot to explain, honestly.”

I spent the next few minutes filling him in on the events that had unfolded at work—about the picture, the drama with Yoongi, Tina’s cruelty, and Rya’s betrayal. Tae listened patiently, his silence comforting. Even though I was exhausted from talking about it all, his kind, calming presence over the phone helped ground me.

“Y/N, that’s… a lot. I’m really sorry you had to go through that,” Tae said, his voice tender with compassion. “I know it doesn’t change anything, but I’m here for you, okay?”

His words meant more than he probably realized. Despite everything, it felt like a small lifeline.

“I appreciate it, Tae. Really. It’s just… I don’t know what to think anymore. I feel like I’ve been surrounded by lies. It’s all just been too much.”

“I get it. But know that you have people around you that care and you should not forget who you are, stand your ground, Y/N.” he reassured me.

His voice was steady, and for the first time in days, I felt a flicker of hope. And then I remembered what my parents had told me. Did Tae actually had feelings for me? Did he stuck around all this time because he felt something for me and I blantantly ignored him, oblivious to his advances and words? I felt like such a bad person. I had to figure out what I actually felt toward him, but deep down I was afraid that I might loose him. 

“We should hang out this weekend,” he continued, his voice pulled me out of the trance I was falling into. “Maybe grab a bite, just get out of there for a bit. How about Sunday- I mean, we will still see each other at the masquerade ball tomorrow but still?”

“Sunday sounds perfect,” I replied, the idea of spending some time with him lifting my spirits. No matter how many times I was with him, it always felt like a gulp of fresh air.

“Great. I’ll text you the details. And Y/N, take care of yourself, okay?”

The sincerity in his voice had me biting my lip to keep from tearing up. “Thanks, Tae. I’ll see you then.”

We said our goodbyes, and I hung up feeling lighter. The weight that had been dragging me down all day wasn’t gone, but it had lessened. I had a plan for Sunday after the ball, something to look forward to, and that was enough for now. I should start prioritizing my life and controlling my emotions better. This was such a vulnerable and cruical moment for me. I had let people peel my skin and expose me so bad that it hurt. I was going to fight and not let anyone do that anymore.

I set my phone down and glanced at the clock, surprised to see that it was already eleven pm. Time was passing fast when I was lost in my own little world.

Before I could do anything, my phone buzzed again, the screen flashing an anonymous number. I hesitated for a second, but curiosity got the better of me. Who could this be in such hour? I swiped the green button and pressed the phone to my ear.

The line was eerily quiet, nothing but slow breathing on the other end. My heart began to race, a strange chill creeping up my spine.

“Hello?” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

The silence continued for a moment longer, making my skin crawl. And then, just as I was about to hang up, I heard a voice.

“Y/N,” Yoongi’s voice came through the phone, gravelly and almost unrecognizable. “Please-” he slurred, "come down, I am in front of y-your apartment." 

A cold wave of panic washed over me.

“Yoongi? What the hell are you talking about?” I stood up and my bare feet tapped quickly and hastily toward my large window. I removed the curtain and I saw him. Yoongi's Hyundai Palisade was parked at the front and he was leaning against it. He glanced up but it was as if he was looking straight through me.

The line went silent again. His breathing was slow, labored, like he was struggling to stay awake.

My hands shook as I held the phone, my mind racing. What was he doing here? Why now? How the fuck did he get my phone and address?

I didn’t want to go down there, didn’t want to face him after everything that had happened. But something in his voice, a combination of weariness and something I couldn’t place, made me grab my jacket and slip on my shoes as I headed out of my apartment. My heart pounding in my chest as I walked towards the elevator. There was no way I could ignore this.

When I stepped outside, I froze.

Yoongi was standing there, barely able to stand on his own. His face was bruised, and his clothes were disheveled. His eyes were half-lidded, a bottle of something in his hand. He looked like he’d been through hell.

“Yoongi?” I whispered, my voice shaky. “What happened to you?” I took a few hesitant steps toward him. The view was horrific. It appeared as if Yoongi has fought with someone. And on top of that he was drunk and got here driving. The fuck was wrong with him?!

He didn’t respond immediately, swaying slightly on his feet. His breath was thick with alcohol, and his usually sharp gaze was dull and unfocused. He lifted his head and glared at me, trying to stand on his two feet.

“I… I just needed to see you,” he muttered, his voice thick with something I couldn’t quite place. He took a step toward me, his hand outstretched.

“You’re drunk,” I said, my voice rising in panic as I took a step back. “Yoongi, what the hell—why are you even here? Why are you acting like this?”

His eyes flickered to mine, a brief moment of recognition, “I… didn’t mean for it to happen like this,” he slurred. I could hear the pain in his voice, it was strained but it was there. 

I stood there, shocked and unsure of what to do. My mind screamed at me to walk away, to shut the door and forget this ever happened. But something inside me—something I couldn’t ignore—told me that I needed to help him. Even if I didn’t want to. See, I wasn't a person that would let others in distress or pain. Unfortunately, I'd even help to people who hurt me deeply. It was how I was raised, to always care for other's comfort but ours. It was a wicked game really, I was standing there and stared at his condition. In the months I have been at this company, I have never seen Yoongi drunk and like this. Vulnerable.

"Yoongi, you need to go home," I said, my voice firm despite the confusion swirling inside me. I felt him approach me but for some reason I didn't move. He towered over me, his brown eyes gazed at me but yet again, it felt like he was seeing right through me. Before I could say something he leaned over and pressed his face into my shoulder, sighing quietly. He dropped the bottle and I could feel him grow heavy. Was he about to pass out? Fuck.

I had second to decide what to do. To leave him lay there or drag him inside.  "Come on, let’s get you inside." I muttered quickly, wrapping my arms around him.

He didn’t argue, allowing me to help him stumble towards the entrance. He was a mess, and I hated that I couldn’t just leave him out there. I hated that I was a kind and caring person toward people that didn't deserve it at all.

As I guided him inside of the elevators and the doors closed, my mind raced with all sorts of questions.

Yoongi lifted his head and stared at my face yet again. I frowned his way and his lips twitched as he soon gave me a drunkish grin. "You are pretty like this." I rolled my eyes. "You are hallucinating,"  "I wish I was, then I wouldn't feel like shit for saying all those things to you and making you cry." he muttered lowly.

I dragged Yoongi inside, half-carrying him as he leaned heavily against me, barely able to keep his footing. His breath was labored, and his body seemed to have gone limp. It was like he was a completely different person from the Yoongi I had known—the one with sharp wit and even sharper eyes. This Yoongi was a shell, drunk and beaten, stumbling through the door of my apartment.

I didn’t know what I was doing. I just knew I had to get him off the hallway, away from the peeking neighbours and cold night air. I laid him down on my couch, watching as he immediately passed out, his head lolling to the side. He looked so vulnerable in that moment—so fragile—and it made my stomach turn. I hated seeing him like this.

I stood over him for a moment, my hands on my hips as I was unsure of what to do next. My mind was still reeling from the shock of his unexpected appearance, but there was something deeper stirring inside me. I had to make sure he was okay. Or at least, make sure he wasn’t going to hurt himself more.

I didn't really know any people closer to Yoongi than Jungkook. So I grabbed my phone and dialed Jungkook's number. After a few signals, he picked up.

“Hello?” Jungkook’s voice came through the speaker, sounding concerned and confused as of to who that might be. He probably didn't have my number saved at all. "It's uh- Y/N..." I trailed off, "sorry to bother you this late," I could tell by the sound of his voice that he was probably asleep.  "No, it's fine. Whats going on?"

“Well. . . Yoongi at my apartment. He showed up drunk with his car parked in front of my place and he’s passed out on my couch.”

There was a brief pause on the other end, and I could almost hear Jungkook’s mind racing. I heard faint curses and then some rustling before he spoke again.

“Give me your address, I will be on my way shortly,” he mumbled, I took a deep breath and gave him the location and then the line disconnected.

True to his word, Jungkook arrived fifteen minutes later. He was quiet when he walked in, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on Yoongi, sprawled helplessly on the couch. His jaw tightened for a moment, but he said nothing. I noticed Jungkook was wearing his pajamas. This is why he was so fast, he just got up and rushed here? 

“Will he be okay?” I asked, my voice softer than I intended.

Jungkook ran a hand through his messy dark hair and sighed, kneeling beside Yoongi. “Yeah. It's not his first time being like this.”

I bit my lip, watching as Jungkook carefully adjusted Yoongi’s position, making sure he was comfortable. The whole situation felt too surreal.

“Why is he like this?” I asked. The question had been gnawing at me ever since I found him outside, and I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Why would he show up like this, covered in bruises?”

Jungkook’s eyes flickered to me for a moment, his expression unreadable. He didn’t speak immediately, as if weighing how much he could reveal. After a long pause, he finally said, “Yoongi doesn’t handle emotional pain well. He’d rather take physical pain than face whatever’s going on inside. It’s easier for him, in a way.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. Physical pain over emotional pain. I had always thought Yoongi was this hard, untouchable person, but hearing that made me realize how much he was hiding beneath that façade.

“That’s… that’s not normal,” I whispered, my heart aching for him.

Jungkook gave me a look, as if to say, You don’t know the half of it. He stood up and turned toward me, his eyes piercing right through me.

“I’m taking him home,” Jungkook muttered, his voice a little softer now. “I’ll make sure he’s settled in. But Y/N…”

I looked up at him, surprised by the seriousness in his voice.

“He won’t admit it, but he needs help. And I don’t think he’ll let anyone in if he knows they’re worried...”

I nodded slowly, feeling the weight of his words.

Jungkook gave Yoongi one last look before he crouched down and gently shook him awake. It took a moment, but Yoongi stirred, groaning as he slowly blinked his eyes open.

“Yoongi,” Jungkook said, his voice low and commanding. “We’re taking you home. Can you stand?”

Yoongi didn’t respond right away. His eyes were glassy, unfocused, and he winced as he tried to sit up. “I don’t want to go home…” he mumbled, his voice thick with exhaustion.

Jungkook’s eyes softened for just a second. “We don’t have much of a choice. Come on.”

With a little effort, Jungkook helped Yoongi stand, supporting him as they made their way out of my apartment. My eyes followed them as they left, a mixture of concern and confusion swirling inside me. I had no idea what was going on in Yoongi’s life, what demons he was fighting. But I could tell it was more than just the things I saw at work.

I stood in the doorway for a while after they left, the quiet of my apartment settling back in around me. There was a lot more to Yoongi than I had ever realized, and I couldn’t help but wonder—what else was he hiding?

The night felt long, and I knew that nothing was ever going to be the same after tonight.

-

I tossed and turned in my bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to escape the thoughts swirling in my mind. Yoongi. What was going on inside his head? Why would he let himself fall to such a low point? I had been so wrapped up in my own problems, so focused on myself, that I failed to look outside my bubble.

Was he suffering just as much as I was? Or worse? His words, those harsh, cutting words, still echoed in my head. I couldn’t ignore them, no matter how much I wanted to. The damage had been done. There was no coming back from that—at least not for me. His actions, his words, they had already crossed a line I wasn’t willing to forgive.

I didn’t trust him anymore. How could I? But despite my resolve, I still wondered—why? Why had he let himself get to that point? Why was he hurting like this? Was he just as lost as I felt sometimes?

But that didn’t change anything. I couldn’t let my guard down. Not now. Not after everything he had put me through.

By the time morning came, I hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. I forced myself to get up, get dressed, and head to work, though it felt like everything was happening in a haze. When I walked into the building, everything felt louder, more intense. But my mind was still stuck on Yoongi.

As I walked down the hallway, lost in my own thoughts, I almost bumped into Jungkook.

"Hey," he said quietly, his tone almost cautious.

I glanced up at him, blinking a few times as I tried to focus. "How's Yoongi?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

Jungkook gave me a quick glance, and I could tell from his expression that Yoongi’s condition was still on his mind, but he didn’t want to dwell on it. “He’s fine. Just a little bruised up. He’ll be at the ball tomorrow.”

I nodded, but the words hit me harder than I expected. The ball? He was going to attend? After everything that happened?

Before I could process any more thoughts, I heard the click of heels approaching. Tina. Of course, she couldn’t leave us alone. She came up to us with that smug look she always wore, her eyes narrowing as she took in our whispered conversation.

“So, what’s going on here?” she asked, her voice dripping with false sweetness, arms crossed against her chest. “Are you two flirting?”

I rolled my eyes, not even bothering to entertain her question. I had better things to do than to deal with Tina and her constant attempts at stirring drama. "She's all yours." I muttered to him.

Jungkook, on the other hand, wasn’t as forgiving. He snapped back at her harshly, his tone cold. “No, Tina. We’re not flirting. I suggest you stop with the snarky comments or I will make you regret it.”

Tina’s eyes widened slightly, and I could see the jealousy bubbling beneath the surface. She looked from Jungkook to me, trying to read our expressions, but I refused to give her the satisfaction of a response.

Instead, I just turned and walked away, not bothering to waste my time on her games. Tina was starting to get pathetic even more in my eyes. 

Jungkook sighed behind me, clearly frustrated, but he didn’t say anything more.

It was strange—despite everything that had happened, despite the weight of my own emotions, there was something comforting about Jungkook’s presence. Maybe it was his steady calmness, or maybe it was the fact that he didn’t play games like Tina. Whatever it was, I didn’t feel as alone when he was around.

But even with that small comfort, my mind couldn’t let go of Yoongi. He was still a mess. And no matter how much I tried to convince myself otherwise, I couldn’t help but feel responsible for part of it.

I had to focus. On the work. On moving forward. Because if I didn’t, I might drown in all of this.

-

The afternoon sunlight streamed softly through my apartment windows, warming the room as I sipped my sugarless coffee, the cup cradled in both hands. At my feet, Hades curled up, his soft fur was shining under the soft rays of the sun. My eyes kept drifting to the royal blue dress hanging on the back of my bedroom door.

Rya had talked me into it—her determination was unrelenting. “You deserve to look stunning, Y/N,” she’d said, dragging me into store after store until she found the dress.

I reached for the diamond hair accessory on my dresser, its glimmer catching the sunlight. My fingers grazed it thoughtfully as I imagined how it would sit in my hair, which Rya had insisted I style in soft, flowing beach curls. I sighed, setting it down again.

Hades stirred, flicking his tail against my ankle as I took another sip of coffee, trying to ground myself. My thoughts were tangled, looping through the chaos of the past few weeks. Yoongi. Jungkook. The picture. The insults. And now, the ball. A part of me was still so anxious, but beneath it all was a simmering determination to get through this. To face everything head-on.

My phone buzzed on the counter, interrupting my thoughts. I picked it up, my heart sinking a little when I saw my parents’ number.

“Hi, Mom,” I said, forcing brightness into my voice.

“Sweetheart,” came my mom’s familiar voice, warm but tinged with hesitation. "Have you been alright, my girl?"  I paused, should I tell her about what happened to me or keep it to myself. I swallowed thickly and forced a steady voice, it was tough not being able to be understood by your own mother. I knew what she was gonna say so I did not bother letting her know about this. "I am okay, mom. How's dad?" "Oh, you know, he has a new hobby which is grilling. He is quite alright per say." I humed in response and there was a pause. “Your brother’s parole was denied.” she served it as if it was the most casual thing ever. I frowned and rose up from my bed, biting on my lips. The words hit me like a dull thud in the chest, but I kept my voice steady. “What now? Should we change the attorney?”

“We’ll figure it out,” she said, trying to sound reassuring. “We’ll visit him soon and see how we should proceed.”

I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me. “Alright," I trailed off. I couldn't believe his parole was denied. That probably wrecked him completely. 

We chatted a little longer before saying our goodbyes, but the call left a small crack in my composure. I set the phone down and took a deep breath. Focus, Y/N. Tonight is about showing up and holding your own.

-

The drive to the MNT Media headquarters was a blur. Taehyung had picked me up in his sleek black Genesis GV80 SUV, his reaction when he saw me leaving my apartment still fresh in my mind.

“Wow, Y/N,” he had said, his eyes widening as I stepped outside. “You look... incredible.”

I’d smiled, a little shy under his burning gaze. “Thanks, Tae." I was not used to compliments, but I took enough time to look at myself in the mirror. I did look quite well tonight. That dress hugged my curves perfectly and it showed everything that had to be shown and everything that had to stay hidden. The color perfectly contrasted with my skin. The mask was hiding who I struggled to be, it was made from royal blue diamonds and it shined under the lighting of my apartment.  And the jewlery in my hair only added to the effect of luxury. 

Tae however, he was wearing a black suit, tailored to perfection, with a crisp white shirt and a black bow tie. His mask—a gold and black design that made him look impossibly suave—only added to his charm. His brown locks of hair tossled and messy suited him perfectly. He looked like a handsome prince. And for a moment I found the thought of him liking me ridicilous. Why would someone who looked so perfect would like someone like me? As we drove, he threw out compliments like they were second nature, his voice laced with a playful flirtation that made me laugh despite my nerves.

“You’re going to steal the show tonight,” he said, his eyes briefly flicking toward me before returning to the road. "You are exaggerating." I gazed at him with soft grin and my eyes raked over his face and that smug smirk from my response. However, my eyes focused on his veiny hands that held the steering wheel. I stared at them for a little too long as he obviously noticed my stare. "Something wrong?" I snapped out of it and looked away, clearing my throat. "No- not at all."  I saw that dumbass smirk smugly at me. I wanted to punch him but instead a small giggle escaped my lips.

When we pulled up to the grand entrance of MNT Media’s headquarters, I felt a wave of anxiety crash over me. The paparazzi were already gathered outside, their cameras flashing incessantly, blinding all the people that passed by. The building itself was a towering masterpiece of glass and steel, lit up like a beacon in the night. It screamed 'you are out of this world, Y/N' in big bold letters.

Taehyung parked, stepping out first before circling around to open my door. “Ready?” he asked, holding out his hand like the real gentleman he was.

I nodded, placing my hand in his. I felt electricity run down my spine as I felt the warmth and softness of his skin. He held my hand ever so gentle as if he was afraid I'd break. I spared a glance at his face and then my focuse went on my exit from the car. As I stepped out, the flashing lights of the cameras hit me like a tidal wave. I felt overwhelmed for a moment, but Taehyung offered his arm, and I clung to it like a lifeline.

“Just keep your eyes forward,” he whispered, leaning close so only I could hear. “You’ve got this.”

I took a deep breath, straightened my back, and let him lead me inside.

The ballroom was breathtaking. The lights were dimmed, casting everything in a soft golden glow. Crystal chandeliers hung high above, their facets sparkling like stars. Guests milled about in masks, their laughter and conversation blending with the sound of a grand piano being played in the corner. The air smelled faintly of expensive cologne, champagne, and roses.

Round tables draped in white silk lined the edges of the room, while the center was open for dancing. Everything oozed luxury—from the gilded accents on the walls to the servers circulating with trays of expensive champagne.

“Not bad, huh?” Taehyung said, his tone light as we stepped inside.

“It’s beautiful,” I admitted, my eyes sweeping over the scene.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, his voice quieter this time.

I glanced up at him, his expression softer now, less playful. It was cute really, all I could do was give him a soft grin in response.

As we moved deeper into the room, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of the evening settling over me. And whatever happened tonight, I knew it was going to change everything.

I scanned the room, feeling a little overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of it all. Everywhere I looked, there were important people—CEOs, celebrities, politicians—all dressed in their finest. The men wore tailored suits with intricate masks, while the women dazzled in luxurious gowns, their jewels glinting under the chandeliers. The anonymity of the masks made it impossible to identify anyone from Jeon Enterprises however.

Taehyung and I found a spot near one of the round tables draped in white silk. He handed me a glass of champagne, the bubbling liquid catching the warm golden glow of the chandeliers.

“You’re doing great,” he said, leaning closer so I could hear him over the soft murmur of conversation.

I gave him a small smile, grateful for his calming presence. “Thanks, Tae.”

We lounged there for a while, sipping our champagne and observing the scene. Taehyung’s easy charm and lighthearted comments kept me grounded, though my thoughts still occasionally drifted to the potential encounters lurking behind the glittering masks.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw them—Rya and Hoseok.

Rya looked absolutely stunning, as she always did. She wore a deep crimson gown with a plunging neckline, the fabric hugging her petite frame and flowing elegantly to the floor. Her dark hair was pinned up in a sophisticated bun, and her mask—a delicate creation of red lace and gold—perfectly matched her dress. She exuded confidence, but there was a cautiousness in her eyes as she approached.

Hoseok, by contrast, looked sharp and understated in a classic black suit paired with a sleek white mask. The suit was tailored impeccably to his lean frame, and the silk pocket square matched the ivory tones of his mask. His usual bright smile was subdued as he stood beside Rya, his hands in his pockets, his posture slightly hesitant.

They stopped a few feet away from me, and for a moment, the air seemed to hang heavy between us.

“Y/N,” Rya said, her voice tentative.

I smiled softly, deciding tonight wasn’t the time for grudges or rehashing old wounds. The ball was too grand, the stakes too high for petty arguments. “Rya. Hoseok,” I greeted politely, nodding to each of them. “You both look amazing.”

Relief washed over their faces.

“You too,” Rya said, her smile finally reaching her eyes. “That dress... wow. You look incredible.”

“She’s right,” Hoseok added, his tone sincere. “You’re... glowing, Y/N. Like, really.”

I gave a small laugh, shaking my head. “You two are just trying to butter me up.”

“No, really,” Rya insisted, stepping closer. “I’m so sorry about everything. We are. I didn’t mean for things to get so out of hand—”

“Not tonight,” I interrupted gently, raising a hand to stop her. “Let’s just enjoy the ball, okay? We can talk about it another time.”

They exchanged a glance before nodding in unison. “Okay,” Rya said. “Thank you, Y/N.”

“Thank you,” Hoseok echoed, his smile finally warming.

I felt a small weight lift off my chest. It wasn’t forgiveness—not entirely—but it was a step in the right direction. Tonight wasn’t about grudges or misunderstandings. It was about standing tall, embracing the moment, and maybe even letting myself enjoy it.

Taehyung, who had been quietly observing the exchange, leaned closer and whispered in my ear, “See? You’re a natural at this.”

I gave him a playful nudge, but his words made me smile. The night was still young, and for now, I was determined to make the most of it.

The conversation with Rya and Hoseok had settled into an easy rhythm, the earlier tension softening with every passing minute. I was just starting to feel comfortable when the grand double doors at the far end of the ballroom opened, drawing everyone’s attention.

I turned toward the entrance, my champagne glass frozen mid-air. That’s when I saw him—Jungkook.

He was dressed in a perfectly tailored black tuxedo, his broad shoulders commanding attention even amidst the sea of masked guests. His dark mask was minimalistic yet elegant, fitting his sharp, chiseled features like it was made for him. But what truly caught me off guard was the person on his arm.

Tina.

She clung to him like her life depended on it, her smug expression practically radiating across the room. Her gown, a striking emerald green with a dangerously high slit, screamed of someone desperate to make an impression. She looked ecstatic—proud, even—and for good reason. To show up with Jeon Jungkook at her side? That was a trophy in itself.

My stomach twisted uncomfortably as I watched her lean closer to him, giggling at something he said. But Jungkook didn’t seem invested in her. His eyes were scanning the room, restless, as though he was searching for someone.

Someone?

Before I could make sense of it my eyes shifted to the second couple that had just walked in.

This time, it was Yoongi.

The sight of him stole my breath for a moment. He was dressed in an all-black ensemble as well, but with a velvet jacket that added an edge of understated luxury. His mask, a rich silver that contrasted against his dark hair, gave him an air of quiet mystery. But it wasn’t just him.

On his arm was Gina.

Gina—the same girl from the cafeteria who had made those snide comments about my weight. The same Gina who had once asked Hoseok to this ball and been pushed away. She had traded in her usual uniform for a glittering golden gown that hugged her figure like it had been poured onto her. Her mask sparkled with rhinestones, matching the shimmering confidence in her eyes.

The sight of her with Yoongi made my chest tighten, though I couldn’t quite explain why. Maybe it was because she had made me feel so small that day in the cafeteria, and now she was walking in like she owned the place.

I stared longer than I should have, my gaze flicking between the two pairs—Jungkook and Tina, Yoongi and Gina. "The hell, Tina and Gina?" Rya asked in disbelief. Hoseok giggled. "Their names rhyme." "They are both equally evil." Rya answered with a flat tone, "that's why." I burst out laughing at this, because let's face it. It was true, both of them thrived on attention. I wonder how the Boss and Yoongi fell for their traps.

“You’re staring,” Taehyung’s voice broke through my thoughts. He leaned in close, his lips brushing my ear. “Don’t let them see they’ve gotten to you,” he murmured, his tone soft but firm.

I blinked, snapping my gaze back to Taehyung. His brown eyes were warm, reassuring, and I gave him a small nod. He was right. I wouldn’t let them have that satisfaction.

But it seemed I wasn’t as subtle as I thought.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jungkook’s head turn in my direction. His eyes, sharp and focused even behind the mask, landed on me almost instantly. I couldn’t see his expression entirely, but something flickered there—recognition.

And then Yoongi’s gaze followed.

It was as though time slowed for a moment. Jungkook and Yoongi both stared at me, their attention laser-focused despite the room full of people.

I felt exposed, vulnerable, even though I was fully covered by my mask and gown.

“Looks like you’ve been spotted,” Taehyung said, an annoying lilt to his voice as he lifted his glass to his lips.

I exhaled slowly, trying to calm the sudden flutter of nerves in my stomach. “Let them look,” I muttered, tilting my chin up slightly.

But as much as I wanted to exude confidence, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this night was about to get a lot more complicated.

A hush fell over the ballroom as a woman walked onto the stage at the far end of the room. The murmurs around me stilled as all eyes turned toward her. Octavia Leeroy, the CEO of MNT Media, stood tall and commanding under the spotlight.

She was stunning—her elegance more commanding than any gown or mask in the room. Dressed in a sleek, black floor-length gown with subtle sequins that caught the light, she radiated power and sophistication. Her mask was a bold gold creation, but her presence alone was enough to command attention.

As she took her place at the microphone, her voice carried through the room, smooth and steady.

“Welcome,” she began, her tone warm yet authoritative. “Tonight is a celebration—a celebration of not only our successes but of the people who make those successes possible. Each of you represents a piece of a puzzle that drives industries, builds communities, and inspires change. But let’s not forget, behind every mask, every polished exterior, are sacrifices, challenges, and battles fought in silence.”

I felt a lump form in my throat as her words resonated. She spoke with a sincerity that cut through the grandeur of the event, sharing stories of her struggles—the nights she worked tirelessly, the people who doubted her and the moments she doubted herself.

Her voice wavered only slightly when she spoke of the cost of ambition, but she never faltered. She had built an empire with blood, sweat, and tears, and now she stood as a symbol of resilience.

A wave of admiration surged through me. This is what strength looks like, I thought to myself, soaking in every word. She was everything I dreamed of becoming—powerful, respected, unshakable. When Octavia finished her speech, a thunderous applause erupted, echoing through the grand ballroom. I clapped along with the crowd, my heart swelling with a renewed sense of determination.

As the applause faded, the music resumed—a gentle, lilting melody that invited couples to the dance floor.

I turned back to Taehyung, who was already watching me with a mischievous glint in his eye. He extended his hand, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “May I have this dance?”

I hesitated for only a moment before taking his hand. “You may,” I replied, my voice light. Rya and Hoseok also joined the dance floor and swayed in the slow rhytum of the piano music.

Taehyung led me to the dance floor, his confidence putting me at ease. He placed one hand on my waist, the other still holding mine, and we began to move in time with the music.

At first, our steps were measured, almost formal. But as we swayed, something shifted. The space between us grew smaller, and the intensity of his gaze deepened. His fingers lingered on my waist, his touch light yet deliberate.

“You’re full of surprises tonight,” he murmured, his voice low.

“Me?” I countered, my heart fluttering as his gaze dropped briefly to my lips. “You’re the one making all the bold moves.”

He chuckled, spinning me gently. “Maybe I like seeing you off guard.”

Before I could respond, I felt a pair of hands catch me mid-spin, steadying me. The grip was firm, different.

When I turned to look up, I froze.

Jungkook.

His dark eyes locked onto mine, a flicker of something unspoken passing between us. His mask did little to hide the sharp angles of his face, and the faintest hint of a smirk played on his lips.

“Mind if I cut in?” he asked, his tone smooth yet edged with something deeper.

I blinked, my breath hitching as I realized I had no choice—Taehyung had already stepped back, a deep scowl at his lips as he let Jungkook take the lead without any other word. 

Jungkook’s hand slid to my waist, his other still holding mine as he began to move us effortlessly across the floor. His proximity, the intensity of his gaze, left me completely unmoored.

“You look proper,” he said softly, his voice carrying a hint of surprise. Proper? Really? What should I expect from a man like him.

“Thanks,” I replied, my voice steadier than I felt. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

His smirk deepened as he twirled me, his movements confident and precise. “I’d say I look more than ‘not too bad‘.’”

I rolled my eyes, despite the warmth creeping up my neck. “Careful, Jungkook. Your ego’s showing.”

He chuckled, his grip on my waist tightening slightly as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “And here I thought you’d be too nervous to handle a dance like this.”

I tilted my chin up, refusing to let him rattle me. “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think.”

His gaze darkened, his expression unreadable as we continued to move in perfect synchronization. For a moment, the world around us blurred—the guests, the music, the grandeur of the ballroom. It was just him and me, locked in a silent battle of wills.  "You came with Tina?" I asked in a hushed tone as we danced. He frowned but then low chuckle escaped his plump lips. Was he amused? "Are you jealous?" "You fucking wish." I spoke out and Jungkook laughed at that. I have never seen him so cheery.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw another familiar figure on the edge of the dance floor. Yoongi.

He was watching us, his expression unreadable behind his mask, but his eyes told a different story. He was intently staring at me and Jungkook as Gina was tugging his arm to go to the dance floor but by his expression and his stoic frame, he refused. Gina gave up and crossed her arms against her chest.

The tension in the air between Jungkook and me was palpable. I couldn't breathe from the closeness of him. He was intoxicating me, like a bottle of strong alcohol making my knees go weak. I had my breath hitched the entire dance before the music stopped and everyone parted. Jungkook refused to let me go.  "You are really beautiful tonight, Y/N." he muttered, his eyes exploring my face. I cleared my throat and pulled away immediately, "T-thanks." He hummed and soon I saw a few guys call out to him. Jungkook turned around to see who it was then back at me. "I have to go. Talk to you later." he said before he headed toward the group of people as I was left alone at the dance floor.

Suddenly, a voice called my name from behind me.

“Y/N?”

I turned around, my steps faltering as I came face-to-face with a man I hadn’t seen in years. Richard Delgrassi.

“Mr. Delgrassi?” I stammered, the surprise evident in my tone. What was he doing here?

He smiled warmly, his salt-and-pepper hair adding a distinguished edge to his polished appearance. Dressed in a charcoal-gray tuxedo and a black mask that matched his sharp features, he exuded the same air of authority and charm I remembered from my childhood.

“I thought that was you,” he said, his tone brimming with familiarity. “My, how you’ve grown. It’s been what—ten years?”

“More like twelve,” I replied, a small smile tugging at my lips. “I’m surprised you recognized me with this mask.”

“Your eyes, dear,” he said, gesturing lightly. “They’re unmistakable. Just like your father’s.”

At the mention of my father, a pang of nostalgia hit me. Richard Delgrassi had been one of my father’s closest associates back when our family was still living the high life. My father, Benjamin, had owned one of the most successful car manufacturing companies in the country. His name had once been synonymous with innovation and luxury in the automobile industry. Richard had been his right-hand man, helping to expand the business and secure lucrative deals. But as fate would have it, a series of unfortunate events—including betrayal from within the company—had forced my father to sell his empire and move abroad, leaving behind the life he had built so painstakingly.

Now, Richard was a prominent politician, known for his advocacy for economic reform and his push for ethical practices in business. His transformation from a business mogul’s associate to a public figure had been nothing short of remarkable.

“It’s been ages,” I said, trying to suppress the rush of emotions his presence stirred. “How have you been?”

“Well, politics keeps me busy,” he said with a chuckle. “But I’ve been keeping an eye on the industry. It’s hard to let go of one’s roots entirely, you know.”

I nodded, understanding exactly what he meant.

“And you?” he asked, his tone shifting to genuine curiosity. “What are you doing these days? Last I heard, your family had moved overseas.”

“I’m working here now,” I said, straightening slightly. “At Jeon Enterprises.”

His brows shot up in surprise. “Jeon Enterprises? That’s unexpected. What are you doing there?”

“I’m part of their marketing team,” I explained, trying to sound more confident than I felt. “It’s... challenging, but it’s been a learning experience.”

Richard studied me for a moment, a glimmer of intrigue sparking in his eyes. “Jeon Enterprises, you say? That’s an interesting choice. They have quite the reputation—for better or worse.”

I tilted my head slightly, curious. “You know them?”

“I’ve crossed paths with their CEO, Jungkook, a few times,” he said thoughtfully, his eyes shifting behind me. I didn't have to turn around to know he was staring at Jungkook. “He’s a sharp one, but his company’s ethos has always been... pragmatic, shall we say. I’ve been looking for an organization that values long-term growth over short-term profits, something more aligned with my goals.”

“And you think Jeon Enterprises could be that organization?” I asked, intrigued.

“Perhaps,” he said, stroking his chin. “If they’re willing to adapt. But enough about me—how do you find it there? Are they treating you well?”

The question caught me off guard. I hesitated, the memories of Tina’s snarky remarks and Yoongi’s cold demeanor flashing through my mind. But then I thought of the moments when Jungkook had, in his own quiet way, come to my defense.

“It has its ups and downs,” I admitted carefully. “But I’m learning a lot.”

Richard nodded approvingly. “Good. That’s what matters. And who knows, perhaps our paths might cross again soon in a more... professional capacity.” I saw him pull out a business card out of his pocket and give it to me. Did I just made the first client join our company? My heart skipped. I accepted it. "Then, we should discuss this over a meeting at our company soon. "Excellent. See you soon, Y/N. And give Benjamin my regards."

A mix of nostalgia and newfound curiosity swirling in my chest. For years, I had tried to bury the life my family had left behind, but seeing Richard here, so firmly planted in this world of power and influence, made me wonder if maybe—just maybe—it wasn’t entirely out of reach for me either.

As he excused himself to speak with another guest, I couldn’t help but feel that this meeting was more than just a coincidence. Perhaps, amidst all the chaos, this was the start of something new. Something I hadn’t even realized I was searching for.

-

The evening had been going surprisingly well so far. I stood among a small group of representatives from various companies, discussing Jeon Enterprises and its potential as a reliable partner. My nerves had simmered down, and I was finally hitting my stride in the conversation.

“So, what makes Jeon Enterprises stand out from its competitors?” a tall, sharp-suited executive asked, his tone curious yet skeptical.

I took a deep breath, summoning the confidence I had been building over the months. “Aside from our innovative approach to market trends, Jeon Enterprises is focused on creating long-term solutions rather than short-term fixes. We prioritize adaptability, ensuring that our clients’ needs are met even as industries evolve. And with the resources we provide, we’re not just a business partner—we’re a growth catalyst.”

The executive nodded thoughtfully, and I could see that I was making headway.

But just as I was about to elaborate further, I heard the telltale clink of heels approaching.

And then it happened.

A sudden cold splash against my side made me flinch, and I looked down to see a vivid crimson stain blooming across my royal blue gown.

“Oh no!” came Tina’s voice, syrupy and fake, as she stood there holding an almost-empty glass of wine. “I’m so clumsy. I didn’t see you standing there, Y/N.”

Her tone didn’t match her words; there wasn’t an ounce of remorse in her expression. Instead, her lips curled into a smug smirk as her gaze swept over me, clearly reveling in the scene she’d just created.

Around me, the small crowd went silent, their eyes darting between Tina and me. The heat of their stares burned on my skin as I stood frozen for a moment, staring at the spreading stain.

Tina’s mockery didn’t stop there. “Oh dear, that dress must have cost a fortune. It’s such a shame, really.”

I clenched my fists, biting back a sharp retort. She wanted a scene, and I refused to give her one.

Forcing a tight smile, I turned to the group I had been speaking with. “Please excuse me for a moment.”

Their sympathetic nods did little to ease the weight of humiliation pressing down on me as I stepped away. As I walked past Taehyung, who had been nearby, he immediately stood and reached for my arm.

“Y/N, let me—”

“No,” I said quickly, not wanting to draw more attention. “I’ve got this, Tae. I’ll be fine.”

He hesitated but nodded, his concern clear in his eyes as he let me go.

I made my way toward the restrooms, my chest tightening with every step. The laughter and conversation from the ballroom felt like it was directed at me, though I knew logically that wasn’t the case. Still, the weight of humiliation was suffocating.

Once in the restroom, I tried dabbing at the stain with water, but it was no use. The red had seeped too deeply into the fabric. Sighing, I gave up and left, heading toward the balcony for some air.

The cold night breeze hit me as I stepped outside, the quiet a welcome reprieve from the noise and judgment inside. I leaned against the stone railing, my eyes sweeping over the city lights below. They sparkled like a sea of stars, but even their beauty couldn’t distract me from the ache in my chest.

I felt humiliated, small, like no matter how much effort I put into proving myself, people like Tina would always find a way to knock me down.

“Thought I might find you here,” came a familiar voice from behind me.

I stiffened, glancing over my shoulder. Yoongi stood there, his mask pushed up slightly on his forehead, his bruised face partially illuminated by the soft glow of the lights. I noticed him not taking off his mask at all at the ball room. Probably because he didn't want anyone to see his bruised face.

“Did you come to add to the humiliation?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.

He sighed, stepping closer but leaving enough space between us to keep it comfortable. “No,” he said simply. “You looked like you could use some air.”

I turned back to the railing, the weight of the evening pressing down on me again. “Well, congratulations. You were right. I don’t belong here.”

His silence was surprising, and when I glanced at him, I saw something I didn’t expect—regret.

“I didn’t say that,” he said after a moment, his voice low.

“You didn’t have to.”

He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I know I’ve been... a jerk.”

I scoffed at the understatement but said nothing, letting him continue.

“I’ve said things—done things—that I’m not proud of,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “And I can’t take those back. But for what it’s worth... I don’t think you’re out of place here. Not tonight. Not ever.”

His words hung in the air for a moment, and I stared at him, a cocktail of emotions swirling inside me. Regret? From Min Yoongi? It was almost laughable. Almost.

I turned back toward the city lights, gripping the railing tighter. “You think a couple of kind words will fix everything?” I asked, my tone sharp.

He didn’t respond right away, and I could feel his gaze on me, heavy and searching.

“I’m not trying to fix anything,” he said finally. “I just... I wanted to say it.”

“Well, you can’t just ‘say it’ and expect me to forget everything else.” I spun to face him, the emotions I’d been suppressing all night bubbling to the surface. “You humiliated me, Yoongi. Over and over again. And for what? To make yourself feel better?”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t look away. “I deserve that.”

“You deserve more than that,” I snapped. “But that’s not even the worst part. The worst part is what you did that night. Do you even realize what could’ve happened? Driving drunk to my apartment like that? What the hell were you thinking?”

Yoongi blinked, clearly not expecting the shift in conversation. His face darkened, a flicker of shame passing over his features. “I wasn’t thinking,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just... I needed to see you.”

“To see me?” I threw my hands up in disbelief. “So you thought, ‘Hey, let me risk my life and possibly someone else’s because I’m having a bad day’? What if you’d hurt someone, Yoongi? What if you’d hurt yourself?”

He took a step closer, his expression pained. “I know,” he said, his voice rough. “I know it was stupid. I wasn’t in a good place—”

“That’s not an excuse,” I cut him off, my voice trembling. “You don’t get to make reckless decisions and then shrug it off because you ‘weren’t in a good place.’”

He looked down, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “You’re right. It’s not an excuse. I just...” He trailed off, shaking his head as if searching for the right words. “I didn’t know how to deal with... everything. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

I let out a bitter laugh, turning away from him. “Clearly.”

Silence settled between us, the tension thick and suffocating. The sounds of the city below seemed to fade as I struggled to rein in my emotions.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, the sincerity in his voice catching me off guard. “For all of it. For the things I said, the way I treated you, for... showing up that night. You didn’t deserve any of that.”

His words hit me harder than I expected, but I wasn’t ready to let go of my anger just yet. “You’re right, I didn’t,” I said coldly. “And sorry doesn’t erase what you did.”

“I know it doesn’t,” he said quickly, his tone pleading now. “But it’s all I can give you.”

I turned to face him again, searching his eyes for something—anything—that would make sense of the man standing before me. He looked vulnerable in a way I’d never seen before, the usual cool confidence stripped away.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you,” I said finally, my voice breaking. “You hurt me, Yoongi. Over and over. And I don’t know if I can ever trust you again.”

He nodded, swallowing hard. “I understand.”

The weight of his gaze was almost too much to bear, and I looked away, my chest tight with a mix of anger, sadness, and something I didn’t want to name.

“I’m trying to be better,” he said quietly. “I don’t know if that matters to you, but... I thought you should know.”

I didn’t respond, my emotions too tangled to form a coherent thought. Instead, I turned back to the city lights, the cold air biting at my skin.

Yoongi stayed for a moment longer, as if waiting for something—an answer, a reaction, anything. But when it became clear I wasn’t going to give him one, he sighed and stepped back.

“Have fun at the ball, Y/N. You deserve it.” he said softly before turning and walking away, leaving me alone on the balcony with my thoughts.

I gripped the railing tighter, the ache in my chest growing stronger as I watched him disappear into the shadows of the ballroom.

And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t know what I wanted anymore.

[moonstruckme]

Congrats on 8k!!! You deserve all the love and more <3 also the holiday/winter theme is so so so cute!! Literally cannot even begin to describe how much I adore you and your talent and the fact that you give back and share your wonderful writing with us makes me so unbelievably happy <3

Can I request a hot cocoa drabble with Remus and the prompt wrapping paper from the 2nd list? Much love to you!! And congratulations again!!

I adore you! Ty for requesting angel <3

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 653 words

You watch out of the corner of your eye as Remus carefully folds the wrapping paper over itself, lining the triangle up against the side of his box. He curses. 

You giggle. “How are you so regimented and so bad at this?” 

“Hush.” He rolls his eyes, reaching across you for the tape. “It’s fine.” 

“The label is showing,” you say, trying to be gentle but only hitting amused. “You can’t leave it like that, she’s gonna know what it is.” 

“I’ll cut a square of wrapping paper to cover that part.” 

“Another patch job?” You shake your head at him, grinning. “Rem, I can’t let you bring these to the function. They’re an embarrassment.” 

“The function,” says Remus, cutting through the wrapping paper with a pointed slice, “is already going to have gifts wrapped by James, which always look like he’s let Harry do them, and Sirius is most likely going to bring his in bags. I guarantee ours won’t be the worst there.” 

“It’s just a little embarrassing,” you murmur, really only teasing him. You start folding a ribbon into gentle curves on the top of your box. “I thought I had this really competent boyfriend, but…” 

“Didn’t I tell you to hush?” Remus asks, but his laughter betrays him. The light from your tree smoothes out the lines of his face, his eyes warm and glittering and lashes kissing at the corners. You wish suddenly that you had a camera on hand, but there’s no chance film could capture how perfectly happy he looks.

Remus smooths tape over his patch of wrapping paper with swift, vaguely menacing movements. “I’ll have you know, I am very competent,” he says. 

“It’s gonna take a knife to open that with all the tape on it,” you observe solemnly.

“I am very competent,” he repeats, and you suck in a breath when he locks his hands around your ankles, dragging you to him with one swift motion. You can forget how strong Remus is, sometimes. He’s not very physical usually, but you’ve riled him into playfulness. “You ask Lily tomorrow who the most competent man in her home is, and you get back to me on what she says, yeah?” 

“Well,” you’re giggling, caught under his stern gaze and bubbling with giddy anticipation, “if you limit it to the men, the bar can’t be very high. Lily and I are more competent than the three of you.” 

“How do you figure?” 

“You can look at my gifts, for starters.” 

Remus has an excellent poker face. He squeezes your calf at the jab, and your nervous giggling intensifies. “We’ll see how you feel about your competence when you make your own tea tomorrow.” 

“No wait! Wait.” You get into his lap, trying your hardest to school your features into some sort of contrition. Smooth your hands up and down his shoulders. “I’m sorry. I love you. Have I told you I love you lately?” 

“Not without ulterior motive,” Remus says drily. 

Your lips turn down in a real frown. “That’s not true.” 

“No.” He rolls his eyes, grunting as he pulls you further up his lap. “It’s not, lovely. What, you’re the only one who gets to tease?” 

“Mhm,” you hum, teasing. 

Remus chuffs like you’re something else, but his lips touching to your nose are gentle. “So what if I’m not the best at wrapping? You can’t make your own tea.” 

“I can…it’s just not as good as when you do it.” 

“Some could argue that’s a much more everyday sort of competence, dove.” 

You make a quiet scoff of protest, not very convincing. Remus smiles. His hands stroke your sides. 

“So. We’re going to put my gifts under James and Lily’s tree without complaint, hm?” 

You feel your nose wrinkle. “Without any complaint? I feel like some damage control is necessary.” 

“Remember your tea.” 

You sigh, rolling your eyes. “Right. No complaints here.”

[tqlepatia]

⋆ - 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐍 ୭˚. ᵎᵎ

#.ex!toxic sevika, love triangle, mild violence and emotional manipulation

- part one. part two. part three.

Sevika was fuming.

She stalked through the dimly lit streets of Zaun, her jaw clenched so tight it ached. Four days. Four days of stewing in her own anger, of replaying that damn conversation in her head, babette was living in her head now, repeating that damn words, again, again, again and again

"she's busy sevika, with grayson"

Grayson.

Fucking Grayson.

The woman had no damn business being here. She was Piltover through and through, too clean, too proper, too used to getting what she wanted. And what she wanted now, apparently, was you.

Sevika knew it the moment she saw her, standing too close, that infuriating smirk on her face. She had seen the way Grayson watched you, the way she talked to you, how she hears your moans at the other side of the wall of the brothel while she walk in to search another girl, It made Sevika’s blood boil.

So, when she finally found Grayson leaning against the bar in one of Zaun’s more upscale dens, nursing a drink like she belonged there, Sevika didn’t bother with pleasantries.

"You should go back to Piltover, Sheriff," Sevika growled, stepping into Grayson’s space, making it clear she wasn’t in the mood for games. "They have brothels there too, don’t they?"

Grayson chuckled confidently, swirling the amber liquid in her glass. "They do," she said, taking a deliberate sip, her eyes glinting with amusement. "But none of them have her."

Sevika’s fists clenched. She could feel the familiar itch of violence crawling up her spine, urging her to swing, to grab Grayson by that uniform and shove her against the bar. Instead, she exhaled sharply through her nose.

"She doesn’t belong to you," Sevika snarled.

Grayson raised an eyebrow. "No? Funny, because last I checked—" she leaned in, voice dropping low "—she's doesn't belong to you neither, not anymore."

Sevika froze.

That, that, hit deeper than she was willing to admit.

She had known things between you had fallen apart, but to hear it so plainly, from Grayson of all people, made something ugly twist in her gut.

Grayson tilted her head, watching her reaction. "What’s wrong, Sevika? Thought you could ruin her, toss her aside, and no one else would ever want her?" Her lips curved into a slow smirk. "Hate to break it to you, but she's too damn hot to pass up."

Sevika’s patience snapped.

She grabbed Grayson’s collar, dragging her in close, their noses nearly touching. The tension was razor-sharp, the air crackling with the unspoken challenge between them.

"Stay the fuck away from her."

Grayson didn’t flinch. If anything, her smirk widened. "Or what? You gonna lose her again?"

That was the thing about Grayson. She didn’t need to throw a punch to land a hit.

Sevika let go, shoving her back with a sneer. She turned on her heel, stalking away before she did something really stupid.

Grayson’s voice followed her.

"Better move fast, sweetheart." A pause. "Wouldn’t want me to get there first."

Sevika didn’t stop.

Four days had passed since Sevika's encounter with Grayson, but the fury hadn't subsided. If anything, it had only intensified. Her mind kept replaying that moment over and over, each time with a deeper ache. She should have done something more, something to teach Grayson a lesson, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized it wasn’t Grayson she was mad at. It was herself.

She had let you slip away. Her. The one person she had let herself care about in years. And now Grayson, of all people, was circling around you like a fucking lion, and Sevika could do nothing but watch.

It was late afternoon when Sevika found herself on the outskirts of Zaun, heading to the last drop, a frequent place to her. Her fists were still tight at her sides, the weight of her emotions weighing on her chest. She wasn’t sure whether it was the stress of the past few days, or the feeling of helplessness that gnawed at her, but something felt off.

And then she saw it.

A shadow slipped between the drunk mans, and her instincts kicked in. Her hand shot to the side, grabbing the hilt of a knife she always carried.

But when the figure stepped into the dim light, Sevika froze.

It was you.

"Sevika…" Your voice was soft, almost hesitant, but she could feel the tension in the air, the way you were holding back.

Her jaw tightened, eyes narrowing. "What are you doing here?"

You hesitated for a moment, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. "I needed to see you."

Sevika’s heart skipped a beat, her defenses crumbling just a fraction. She hadn't expected this. She hadn't expected you to seek her out.

"What the hell do you want, huh?" Sevika growled, stepping forward to close the space between you. Her anger was still there, simmering under the surface, but now it was laced with confusion. Was it anger at you? At Grayson? At herself?

"I—I need to understand," you said, your voice wavering. "I need to know what happened between us."

Sevika’s eyes flickered away, her gaze hardening. She didn’t want to talk about this, not now. "We don’t need to do this."

But you weren't backing down. "I do." Your voice cracked with a rawness she hadn’t heard before. "I need to know if there’s any chance left. If we can fix this. Can we?"

Sevika’s breath caught. Her heart ached at the vulnerability in your words, but she knew—she knew deep down—that she was too broken for anything between you to be fixed. She was too lost in her own demons to ever give you what you deserved.

But you were still standing there, looking at her like you wanted answers, like you still saw something in her worth saving.

"Please," you whispered, and she almost felt herself melt when you looked at her with those big bambi eyes

Sevika wanted to say so many things. She wanted to tell you that she cared, that she hadn’t meant for things to spiral this way, that she wanted nothing more than to hold you and tell you everything would be okay. But the words wouldn’t come. She was too tangled in her own emotions, too lost in the anger and regret that clouded her mind.

"You’re better off without me," Sevika muttered, stepping back, unwilling to meet your eyes. "You deserve more than this, more than me"

But before you could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed from the shadows. Grayson’s voice cut through the tension like a blade.

"Seems like I got here just in time," she said with that damn smug grin plastered on her face.

Sevika’s heart sank, her fists clenching again, rage bubbling up once more.

"Stay away from her, Grayson," Sevika growled, turning to face the woman she had been avoiding for days.

Grayson held up her hands, feigning innocence. "I’m just here to check on my new… friend." She winked at you, ignoring Sevika’s glare entirely.

You stepped forward, your gaze flickering between them. "I don’t need either of you to fight over me, its fucking stupid and childish."

"Don’t listen to her," Sevika snapped, her anger rising once again, but not at you. Not at the idea of you being with Grayson. At herself, for being too damn dumb to let you slip through her fingers.

But Grayson wasn’t finished. "You know," she said, her voice laced with condescension, "I’m really starting to think you’re just too late, Sevika."

Before Sevika could snap back, you spoke again, your voice quiet but firm. "Enough."

The word hung in the air, heavy with the weight of everything that had been left unsaid.

Grayson raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "You want to tell me what’s going on here?"

But you turned away from both of them, and you're back to Grayson and Sevika. "I’m done," you said softly, your voice barely audible. "I’m done with all of this."

Sevika’s world tilted, her heart falling into the pit of her stomach.

"You can’t just walk away," Sevika said, her voice cracking with the intensity of her frustration. She reached out, but you didn’t turn back.

"I’m not walking away from anyone," you said, your voice filled with pain. "I’m walking away from both of you."

Sevika watched as you disappeared into the shadows, leaving her standing there with nothing but the echo of your words.

For the first time in days, the anger faded, leaving only a hollow emptiness.

And she knew, deep down, that this was the worst thing she could have done.

❝ For the last part, who stays with the reader? And I may change some things later. I hope y'all are feeling well, angels! Xoxo❞

[bbrainr0t]

For when you flover VI

Masterlist

Pairing: Emperor Caracalla x Greek!woman/reader x Emperor Geta

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, angst, hints of PTSD/bad mental health, imbalance in the relationship (sexism, oppression, misogyni, etc.), toxic/abusive, choking/death threats, alcoholism, sexual/sensual content, mentions of violence, suicide, rape, blood, death, and slavery (sometimes only implied)

Tags: Enemies to lovers (?), slow burn (?), dark romance (?), triangle drama/love (but no incest!!), unhealthy/toxic dynamics, slave x masters, no use of y/n, 1st person narrative, hurt/comfort

Summary: Pulled from a new-found peace, the hellen finds herself in an dramatic confrontation with the sparrow, Geta. She wonders again and again: what are feelings, if not to be felt?

Word count: 3.6K

Dictionary for this chapter:

Nothing! whaaat!

I sit in quiet, wondering and thinking about life and how I ended up like this. Between my legs lay one of the men I am sure that I am destined to kill someday. The man who was responsible for so much pain – and whom I’ve longed to see decay. Yet, I feel no remorse of his touch or how his breath meets my leg like how the wave hits the shore. I try putting sense into the situation by remembering my brother, but no good comes of it. It’s like the agony is erased in this curious second, ticking on by while the emperor sleeps soundly, nested in my embrace. Instead I end up thinking about how this man is a brother as well, and how his brother seemingly cares for his health rather than his own. It’s exactly what alienates them from the description I once let fit their profile; they’re no longer masters of blasphemy and war but humans with flaws; and so am I. Am I foolish for thinking they can change?

Caracalla looks so peaceful as he sleeps. His lips parted just a bit, his eyes relaxed and no longer as puffy and dark as before. He has been nothing but nice to me ever since I arrived – that I must admit. If I am not to accept that they can change then I can at least acknowledge that this one never had the chance to be at all. Scars all over his face and skin shows the true nature of his past as well as destiny. It can be that they say he is mad, but I am slowly starting to think that he is the sanest of them all; at least he is a man true to his word, although they can be demanding.

My hand over his forehead, I catch myself praying for his well-being. A warmth beneath my touch. “Apollon, there is nothing in this world other than you that can help this man, though his past might shows otherwise, I pray that he will show you-“

“Are you praying for my brother?” A cold air slaps my skin so that it shivers. I gulp.

Geta comes to light from behind the bed, his voice jumping ever so slightly off the walls like a haunting ghost. Has he been hiding, watching all along? He settles on the silk furthest away from me and Caracalla. It is like he is afraid to approach as his hands seems unsure crossing the invisible borders between the right and the left side of the bed. There seems to be a thick and uncomfortable silence in between that I can’t quite place. A peace that is although just for the tainted soul upon me.

He can’t attack me with his brother sleeping on me. Is that why he’s not at ease?

I am unsure whether I am allowed to speak or not. So, I nod, somewhat sternly and proud. I must take a stand when I can. I will not deny my submission to the only righteous Gods.

The sparrow merely stares at me, blankly, his shoulders slightly slumped and somewhat weak. It’s only his upper body that is turned towards the two of us, his legs are staying on ground so that I cannot see his feet. For a short moment I see a sadness rush the empty gaze before he turns to let his elbows settle on his knees, his head held by his rigid hands. There’s a cloud forming in the air around him, full of thunder, seemingly a swarm of thoughts, all piercing into the skull. He’s nothing without his strength, without his power. Am I holding his only will? I curl Caracalla’s hair around my finger like a ring.

“I told you not to speak.” Sour is his spit, I am sure. Puncturing is his words to my soul. If only he had heard his brother and how he was happy to hear me speak. Maybe that’ll change his mind. Does that even matter? I am led astray, emphasizing for someone not deserving of it.

The Gods know what they did – but still.

“You will get yourself out of this … distraction… and come to my chamber.” Though he is quite familiar with the tongue of my people, he sometimes speak as if he knows no words at all. I am puzzled by what he means, but I dare not object. Geta puffs and stands up to leave. “You will get what you deserve.” He mumbles as he walks away, evidently drowning in either doubt or gloom.

I realize my heart is beating out of my chest, and that the pit in my stomach has hollowed even further. There’s a ringing in my ear that keeps my thoughts at bay. I feel dizzy, nauseous even. The peace from before long gone.

Am I to leave now? I watch the other brother sigh in his sleep. Surely, he can feel how my legs have started shaking, can he not? I am afraid of what will happen if I don’t get moving now.

I carefully lift Caracalla’s head and pull one leg after the other away, and thankfully he doesn’t seem to wake. Swiftly I find myself on my feet, watching the emperor before me lie still. Something so fragile about how he lays, unprotected and yet salvaged from misery of being awake. I put a pillow beneath his head in hopes that he will continue to fall deeper but softly further into his slumber. For some obscure reason I hope that he rests, knowing no bad will reach him now. What are these thoughts? I pull a blanket over his shoulders.

With a few steps I reach the exit, but I don’t know the way. A purple guard stands on each side. “Follow me.” One walks past me almost like a shadow without grabbing me - a freeing feeling, and oh so intoxicating. No wine to keep my thoughts further away now, only this man and the unearned respect he delivers at my feet. I know not to take it to heart for that would be foolish of me, yet…

Shame bubbles within, slowly filling the whole hole with the tiniest drops of guilt. I think of my people and how I am led to this place and this sudden respect. Their bodies dead, flowing into the sea. The water red. My brothers head. I remember where my loyalties lay. I acknowledge his hospitality, but I wish not to take it heart - but oh...

I enter this new chamber, the purple guard leading me inside, though leaving me to walk alone. I am but a rabbit in an open, unknown field and land of predators – or rather the predator. A stabbing pain grows inside, prickling in the tips of my fingers; all my blood has left my limbs and gone to my head.

Geta stands by a desk, identical to the one inside of Caracalla’s chamber, sipping the same red liquid. His shoulders are rising and falling in a dangerous speed, revealing that there’s a race inside of him. If I just come but an inch closer, perhaps I can hear the beating of his heart, beating in sync with mine. He’s nothing but a man. A sparrow, but surely, he wishes that he was more. He takes in a deep breath like last time except this time no words leave his mouth. I wonder if he has lost them on his way here.

I wish that he was to lose his head – it would make killing him so much easier. His brother’s words are poisoning, misleading from what I can conclude or admit as of right now; I wish not to find out whether his can be as well or not.

“You may speak to me.” He speaks. “Speak.” He commands.

I try to forget what Caracalla told me to do yesterday. And forget how it pains me to try to do so. Remember, I do not care for these tyrants.

“I do not know what you want me to say.” I speak. The words grating my throat. A struggle I didn’t know I would face - wanting to stay quiet, to be a part of the sweet abyss, but forced to practice a right, I forgot I had. Speaking my truth, I dare not to do. What would he do if I did? Does it matter? I forget anyway.

He stays quiet as he places his glass, both hands on the table as he leans forward, relying all his weight on the wooden table. He looks too heavy to carry on his own.

The sparrow drops his cape slowly, and I watch it fall to the floor like a body robbed from life. It loses all color as it reaches the ground, the grace vanished into the air like a soul from a corpse. Suddenly, Geta looks so small.

I need nothing but a knife to spare me from this. Would I take my life or his? I remember my brothers smile. Caracalla’s laugh.

I feel unsteady on my feet. My heart ache. I am weak and that is all that Geta will see, if he just looked. What’s happening in his head? I stand in a shadow where no power yield. I sharpen my words. “You’re just as mad as him.”

At first it seems that he needs to process my words, but then Geta laughs shallowly, his shoulders dropping. He pushes himself up from the table and stand barely upright, his torso tilted to the right as he turns his foot to face me. Never have I seen a man so stellar in his most melancholy attire. Kohl smeared so that he looks as if he never has met the insides of his eyelids, his jaw so tense, and his lips so red. He even looks as if he has been hunting a prey, having teared his teeth into it, tearing muscle from muscle.

I dare chuckle. “You look more a mess than him.” I serve him his own words on a silver platter. If I must die, I will do so with pride.

“What are you afraid of?”

I am taken aback by his words as they hit harder than any punch.

“It surely isn’t death, so that I will not give you.” Geta approaches slowly and sloppily. He gets so close to my face, his breath crawling into the cracks of my lips. I smell the wine so clearly that I am sure that I can get drunk on the smell alone. “How can I best torture you?” He grabs my chin almost tenderly as he whispers. The sparrow watches my lips - by now it seems he has made it his duty. A feeling creeps on my spine and my breath jerks. Geta grins.

“I went to your little… bed, and I found this.” From his pocket he pulls out the knucklebone, given to me by Alexandra. Instantly I reach out for it, but he is quick to remove his hand. He shakes his hand and from his mouth comes these demeaning sounds: “tsk, tsk, tsk.” It sounds like a squirrel’s chatter. I feel so little. His lips only inches away.

“What does it mean to you? It’s just a bone…” He takes a step back and inspects the knucklebone between his fingers. His filthy, filthy fingers.

An anger and an anxiety spewing within. “Nothing. Give it back.” I spit.

He turns his gaze to me again from which fury rages in its scornful manner. There are no words, only a war between our stares. In this moment I wish to cut off his every limb, dismember him like they did my brother by the order of those beneath him. The tyrant. The unbelievably gruesome man who dresses to cover his mediocrity. The man who’s taken Alexandra from me, only a few inches away.

“You do not order me around.” He warns ghastly. “Answer me.”

I reach out again, and Geta stomps on my foot. I cry in pain and try to fight back, but he pushes me off my balance. Harshly, I land on the floor, on my side. A lightning bolt crashing through my body from my hip to my head. I weep, but I fight to press words through the startling numbness, growing out of the floor, infiltrating my core: “I won’t tell you.”

“Shame.” Geta grits his teeth. Hastily he walks to his table and places the bone as he grabs ahold of a book. Giving me no time to think or react he holds it above his head, ready to motion it towards the only hope I have. He wants to shatter it. He will.

Panic endues. “WAIT!” I yell.

He stops.

I wail. “It’s a bone given to me by one of the other slaves.”

“Who?”

I give him no answer, leave him in quiet. My heart feels as if it was the one to be stomped on. My head beginning to throb.

“WHO?!”

“Alexandra.” Her name falls out and, in my head, regret takes its place, settling among all other sensation fed by this menace.

“Alexandra.” Geta tastes her name as he puts down the book slowly.

I let my body completely break to the ground. The cold of the marble being the only comfort I need. The sound of my tears hitting the surface resembling the sound of small childish chatter and broken wishes. They fall, seeking truth but finding sorrow so deep. Suffocated by the limited space between my faith and my destiny, both brittle and frail. His little laugh stifled, making its way to my ears in between the chaos that is my mind. The chaos that is him.

I hear him walk up to me, crouching down. I feel his eyes, scanning my frigid body. They burn. “Looks like I found your torture.” I look up from the floor and see how he is entertained by the state, I am in.

“Please, don’t hurt her.” I only wish. I gulp. “Master.”

The word vibrates on his skin as his eyes look at me more attentively. It strikes a nerve, but one of the good. It looks as if it activated something in his obscene brain, like it spiked his interest in me. I feel and see the filth soar in his eyes. He undresses and dresses me dirty in his mind, I am sure. Disgusting beast.

“I won’t hurt her…” Geta lets his words hang in the air before finishing. “… just yet. Get up.” He stands. Shakingly, I follow. I don’t know how I still find the strength. Adrenalin keeping me afloat. The sparrow grabs my chin once again. “I hope you now understand the power, I have over you.”

I don’t understand what I have done to fully offend this man. I haven’t given him any treatment he hasn’t seen before, I am sure. He scans my face as if it’s his last chance, breathing in my air like he has never tasted an air so fresh. Geta looks almost obsessed.

“You do not speak to my brother – or near him. But you will keep him company for I have never seen him so controlled before…” Geta admits amidst the threats. “I am keeping you alive for him. Remember that.” I feel a lie linger from off his tongue.

A tear trails off my cheek onto his finger, yet he seems unbothered. He’s nothing like his brother. I remember how Caracalla held me and dried my tears away.

“I won’t hurt him.” I assure him for that is the truth, I admit. It seems if I strike it must be him. Caracalla is incapable of the inhumane things his brother puts him up to. I watch Geta’s eyes dart back and forth between my eyes and my lips.

“Good.” There’s an uncertainty in his growl. “You do not wish to see my wrath if you were to disobey.”

If he just knew how I would tear him apart if I had the chance. Leave him to rot in the sea.

Geta stands, staring at me intensely without shame. His stance is tall as he is towering over me with all his might. I wish to find the crack, and he looks to want to fill out any cracks I possess in the nastiest possible sense. He licks his lips. “I might just reward you if you do.” His words mingle together with other tingles inside, distress. “Do you know what it takes to please a man?” His grip becomes firmer. His other hand removing hair from off my face.

Although I am given no seconds at all to respond, he is quick to be unsatisfied. His hand moving from the chin to its rightful place. It finds shelter around my neck, tipping my head back. Geta examines the marks he has left from the day before. My air choked up and piled beneath the skin, scared to try and peak out. I shake my head in obedience. I do not know if I do it out of fear or because of the sudden thrill of unfamiliar attention - only introduced to me shortly by his brother. I am disgusted by the way my body reacts; a sour taste lies burying inside my mouth. The pit in my stomach prickling, reminding me of its existence.

I force closed my eyes to try and numb out this new feeling, but instead it enhances. Geta leans in and I feel his damp lips brush by the hairs of my neck. I feel how to sensation provokes hysteria within my heart. I choke, not by the force of his hand but by the impotence of my lungs. He makes way across the bare skin of my throat by trailing his hand down to my collarbone, his lips nibbles on the bruise. A sensation of both pain and pleasure.

My hand jolts to hold at his shoulder as my insides flips. The tingling turning to a throbbing like a headache but lying deep in my gut. A fuzzy feeling censors all thoughts, sorting away purity and logic. The amorous feeling eating me away. There’s a noise that I do not register as my own, leaping from my mouth.

Geta jumps in motion. His hand possessively grabbing at my waist, stabling himself to my body. The other keeping my neck in place, pressing deep into my skin. The nibble becomes a bite, the bite into devouring every scent on my neck, devouring my every sense. I am blinded to reality and led into a dreamscape of sorts.

Soon enough I find myself lying on his bed as he pins my arms over my head. Having lost all control, I let it happen. My leg slightly bent, slightly keeping him on a slight distance. A bulge hidden beneath his clothes is almost stabbing into my thigh. His length. Arousal brews between my legs. I almost feel the urge to shy away.

All over my collarbone, my throat to behind my ear he tries to eat me away. A surface I never knew was so sensitive. He groans. “You’re not only his.” He hisses, pushing himself past my guard. His hand grabbing beneath my knee, positioning me for his desire.

Before my closed eyes I see Caracalla smile.

“This is so wrong…” I mumble.

I see my mother, my father, and my brother. The beach, the war, the flood of blood. I feel the way it paints shame across my mind, feeling the emperor’s filthy hands grabbing at my flesh like one of his concubines.

I try to push him off but to no use. He’s settled upon me like stone, heavy. I groan and suddenly I cry. I feel as if I am betrayed not just my brother but also the burdened. I am confused.

“What is happening in your mind?”

There’s a sudden rush of tears. I claw at his upper body, hoping that he will stop. The arousal is numbing, but I do not wish to obey. Not this easy.

Frustrated, he groans and slaps my cheek. It stops me from crying. He grabs my cheeks. “Stop it.”

I shake my head.

He mumbles something, discontented in Latin, sounding so bitter, but as I open my eyes to face the anger, I meet only unease. Worry. Geta’s eyes filling with tears. He’s… panicking…? The world stops its fret. All I hear is how Geta is far from catching his breath. He looks to me as if I have all the answers. There’s no end to the distress which grows from this man’s heart.

“Please let go of me.” I beg.

Fear ravishes his soul in the depth of his brown orbs. Sweat mixing with the tears dipping onto my chest. He looks as if he doesn’t trust his own tongue, mute he slowly releases my arms, my body from his might, his weight. I crawl and scrunch my knees to my shoulders. Images starting to reappear. Bodies. Blood. I hyperventilate.

I feel his hand at my shoulder, but I pull away.

I let the moments drag me away. I only hear him whimper before I faint.

The next moment I am awake, I am back in Caracalla’s bed. All alone and all tugged in. I feel a faint kiss on the top of my head, and a sweet whisper: “Sleep soundly, meus flos.” A pet on my hair. “I will be here…” - Words unknown - ” … again. I will make sure of it.”

Next chapter: ehhh soon enough... (rough times are happening)

All support is greatly appreciated <3

Taglist: @syraxnyra, @omg-hellgirl, @t6gse370, @duckyhowls, @littlemissholy, @naysha140, @lover-rep-fanfic

[slickdickwitchbitchh]

OBX realityshow!au

“Coming Soon: Outer Banks After Dark”

Coming to Netflix this summer !

It’s the show everyone will be talking about—a reality TV experiment like no other. Welcome to the Outer Banks, where the richest of the rich—the Kooks—rule the pristine beaches and country clubs, while the Pogues, the working-class locals, hustle to make a living on the water. The divide between these two worlds has fueled decades of tension, and now, it’s about to hit a boiling point under the summer sun.

This season: Relationships will ignite, friendships will fracture, and secrets will explode.

Meet Y/N: the wildcard in a love triangle that’s shaking the OBX to its core. On one side, there’s JJ—the fun-loving bad boy with a reckless streak and a heart of gold. On the other, Rafe—the reformed kook whose dangerous charm has everyone questioning his motives. Sparks fly as Y/N tries to navigate her feelings, but when a late-night pool party takes a turn, the rivalry between JJ and Rafe threatens to get out of control.

But that’s just the beginning. Sarah Cameron is navigating her own triangle with long-time boyfriend John B and her ex, Topper. "Once a Topper, always a Topper," she teases in her confessional—but John B isn’t laughing. When an innocent game of truth or dare turns personal, things get messy.

And then there’s Sarah and Kiara. Once inseparable, now anything but. Their unresolved tension from Kiara’s kook year resurfaces, threatening to split the group down the middle. "She acts like she’s better than me now," Sarah snaps. "But we all remember who she was."

"I feel like I’m stuck in the middle of this," Y/N admits in her confessional. "I’m friends with both of them, but it’s exhausting trying to keep the peace when they can’t even be in the same room together."

And while Cleo and Pope are the group’s newest power couple, even they aren’t immune to the drama. "We’re just trying to stay out of it," Cleo jokes in her confessional. Pope smirks, adding, "But let’s be real, these people live for chaos."

Friendships will be tested. Lines will be crossed. Hearts will be broken.

So, grab your drink and settle in for the world’s most dramatic beach house experiment. This isn’t just summer in the OBX—this is Outer Banks After Dark.

First Chapter

Author's Note

Hey guys,

Thank you so much for checking out my story! This is my very first fanfiction, and I’m so excited (and nervous) to share it with you all. I’m keeping things open and fun, so if you have any ideas or plotlines you’d like to see, my requests are definitely open. I’d love to hear your thoughts and suggestions—this story is for all of us to enjoy together!

This will be a love triangle for Y/N, and honestly… I don’t even know who she’s going to end up with yet! I’m just as torn as she is, so we’ll figure it out together as the story unfolds.

Oh, and one last thing! I’ll be posting a moodboard for Y/N and the show tomorrow, so stay tuned for that! I can’t wait to dive deeper into the vibes of this story with you.

Thank you again for all your support, and I hope you love what’s coming!

xoxo, [Z]

[plasticferal]

keeping score | matt & chris sturniolo.

prologue: 'they say love is the sixth sense that destroys all other five senses’

authors notes: 1.9k, explicit language, reader discretion is advised. welcome to my first series, please enjoy the ride.

they both want you. the only way matt and chris can agree to settle who wins is through competition, one where you’re the prize. your own heart is torn between the two brothers. the thing is though, love doesn’t keep score.

they have two very different experiences to offer. two sides of the same coin. a coin you refuse you flip and settle on.

matt is the first to catch your eye in any room. he makes you nervous. butterflies, awkward laughs, stuttering over your words. all of it. you like him. you’re unsure if he feels the same toward you.

however, you also like chris. the compliments he showers you in, the subtle flirting, the way he softens his tone around you, how giving he is, the way he’s so shamelessly himself. the list goes on. he’s different. 

it’s a weird triangle of intrigue and unrequited feelings that lingers and is never acknowledged.

you’re already convinced it’ll never happen. with either of them. you’d be putting too much at risk considering how deeply you value your friendship before anything else. the fear of falling in love, and losing them both. 

which might just be your karma for being into both brothers. 

they occupy the living room. you’re upstairs, using nick’s bed to take a nap while he showers, and he takes long showers. he’s always given you a safe space in the house, to make it feel like home. 

you love to annoy chris and matt by stealing their clothes, blankets, soft drinks out of the fridge, tagging along to every late night drive and fast food pick up. 

they share everything with you, but you designate yourself in nicks’s room as to not stir up any terrible, rash decisions on your accord.

being fast asleep and tangled up in crisp, cold, silk sheets, it’s a deep sleep. completely escaping into your dreams.

you’re left unaware of the chaos that’s about to ensue in the living room between the two brothers who occupy your mind. chaos is the score in which reality is written upon.

“you like y/n, right?” matt asks chris. 

you’ve had a strange feeling for a while now that matt is trying to set you up with his brother. which, as flattering as it is, it’s bittersweet. 

matt is sinking lazily into the lounge while scrolling through his phone, on the furthest left. chris is on the furthest right with his feet kicked up on the coffee table. 

they’re in direct view of each other on the L shaped couch. not in a literal sense, just in proximity. neither brother is actually looking up from a screen of some kind.

“what?” chris snaps his head toward matt, diverting from the television for a moment. 

“just answer the question.” matt huffs.

“of course i like y/n. she’s the closest person in our life besides like, nick” chris shrugs, going to look back at the screen again. 

matt groans in disappointment at his response. 

“you know i don’t mean it like that.” matt sits up slightly, readjusting his position and posture.

“god here we go again.” chris runs a hand down his face, fearing his brother's next words. 

“how do you really feel about her?” matt pries. 

unusual for him. out of character even, chris is usually the one who needs to know everything all the time, and is never afraid to ask the hard hitting questions, as annoying as it may be. but not with this topic of conversation.

the difference is, chris does it because he’s genuinely curious. matt asks questions for his own selfish reason, to chris’s oblivion. 

chris needs reassurance that he’s making the right decision in not pursuing you. matt needs to know if or when he’s going to have to compete. little does he know that time is nearing. 

“man, i don’t know. i just- i like her. can’t we leave it at that?” chris’s tone is anguished. 

“you’re avoiding the question-”

“i answered your question!” chris cuts matt off before he can fully form his sentence, and matt’s jaw tightens. 

“fine, whatever.” matt waves his hands in the air with defeat before diverting back to his phone, leaving chris to linger on his words.

“i’m never gonna make a move. i know how you feel about her, too.” chris huffs, as though he’s annoyed at the response he’s had to give.

“what’d you mean?” matt gives chris a glare, like he’s daring his next words.

“you know exactly what i fuckin��� mean” chris scoffs, shifting in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest and pulling the sleeves of his gray hoodie past his knuckles.

matt takes a loud inhale through his nose and exhales through his mouth 

“we can’t just keep pretending that we both don’t want her.” matt drops his phone onto his stomach face down, being slightly slumped. 

“i’ve been fine pretending” chris throws the hood of his sweatshirt over his head to hide his eyes more from matt, a natural reaction to not enjoying the grilling. 

“well if you don’t make a move, i will.” matt’s tone is serious.

“you wouldn’t.” chris deadpans, a sincere tone of disbelief seeping from his lip that he’s now biting the corner of.

“you’ve been saying you’re gonna make a move forever and haven’t done shit."

he knows it’s not nice, but there’s something about the lack of passion from chris despite the obvious crush just makes matt's skin crawl. if someone is going like you and not do anything about it, matt is more than willing to shoot his shot, give you what you deserve. 

“that’s not fair” chris twists his face, glaring at his brother. 

"i think it’s more than fair play at this point, kid.” matt scoffs.

if looks could kill, matt would be dead.

all those times you’ve perceived matt bringing up chris to entice you have just been a ploy to gauge how both of you feel. he knows it’s manipulative, but no harm, no foul.

the worst part is, chris isn’t actually even sure he wants a relationship. he’s infatuated by you, undoubtedly. matt on the other hand would marry you with a paper ring. 

they’re both scared of their own feelings, and the intentions that might come along with them. they don’t ever want to hurt you, but their carnal desire is misleading their moral compass.

“alright then,” chris starts, matt’s words hitting a nerve for him. he slaps his hands onto his thighs and sits up in his spot. 

“how do we settle this? who gets her?” chris continues, staring at his brother intently now.

“i don���t think we get to make that decision.” matt shakes his head, bringing his hand to his mouth as he begins to bite his nails, which muffles his words.

“you’re right, we don’t. but we’re gonna have to compete for it to even be an option.”

“compete” matt repeats chris’s words with a sour huff, a slight arrogance in the sense that he doesn’t view his brother as a threat. 

not when it comes to you, and there might be a small part of that statement that’s correct. you have a sweet spot for matt, which fires up chris even more. he is conscious that he’s the underdog, as much as you try to show an even amount of attention to the both of them.

“what’s wrong? you scared you’ll lose?” chris taunts. 

“that’s the least of my worries.” matt scoffs, his mind traveling down every possible path this terrible idea could go down. 

“fine, then you won’t be afraid of a little competition.” chris says nonchalantly, pushing back with the same energy matt’s been giving, turning the tables.

“what’s your plan here? we just tally up the moments we get with her until someone wins? to boost our own egos?” matt speaks with his hands.

“i do love to have my ego stroked” chris grins to himself, the thought of you crossing his mind as the words leave his mouth. his train of thought tends to wonder easily.

“seriously, chris, how do we plan on settling this?” matt rubs his hands together, like the action you do when you’re trying to stay warm. 

“i think there’s only one answer to that.” chris responds, in a “duh” tone, without explicitly sharing what’s on his mind.

their sixth sense of being able to unpack each other's minds sparks like an electrical fault in the moment. of course, neither of them hate the thought of getting you in bed. they just hate the thought of you being unaware. 

somehow it’s more challenging than falling in love, or securing a relationship. betting to sleep with you is actually the hardest challenge of them all, let alone covering all the bases in order to attain it. 

the intimacy, the intensity of it all. it just seems so unattainable. it requires them, and you, to be completely and utterly vulnerable. 

“that seems kind of, objectifying.” matt shifts his demeanour, ironic considering he sparked the conversation. 

“it wouldn’t be a competition without a challenge.” chris acknowledges, and unfortunately for the both of them, he’s right. 

“this sounds so fucked up” matt says, running his hand through his scruffy hair.

“first brother to five points takes all. all of her.” chris speaks, confidently setting up the challenge. 

essentially their plan is to see who can get the closest to you, and let the other brother suffer in watching it happen. which occurs points. loser has to back off of you completely. unless someone gets to you first, in which case all their hard work flies out the window. they won’t be making it easy for each other.

“points won’t matter when i get her into bed first.” matt’s smug, knowing it’ll make chris go insane. 

“so i take it that you’re up for the challenge?” chris ignores matt’s words with a prompt, because if he doesn’t disregard it, he’ll lash out. 

matt considers it. at least he acts like he does. he knows his answer. if he wants you, if either of them do, they have no choice but to compete. neither of them are sure if it’s love or lust, but they’re about to find out. 

they are certain of one thing though. they like everything about you. the way you look. the way you smell. the way you sound. they know exactly why they want you. it’s the first time ever someone has been able to grab the attention of both brothers. hence the severity of the agreement.

“when do we start keeping score?” matt responds, and that’s all the reassurance chris needs in his brothers answer. 

as if on command, you trudge down the stairs in a sleepy state. their eyes snap toward you simultaneously, and you blink repeatedly to make sure you’re seeing them right. 

you are their favorite part of every day, so it’s not out of the ordinary for them to acknowledge your entrance, but you can feel the intensity of their eyes on you with a different energy. 

with foggy vision still clearing as you rub your heavy, tired eyes, you let a small yawn escape. they both melt at the sight, despite you feeling like you’re in your least desirable state. 

you’re not even paying attention to their back and forth bickering. the sound of their voices muffling through your ears. whatever it is they’re saying, they’re not saying it loud enough for you to hear before you even make it down the stairs.

“now.” chris states, eyes snapping back at his brother as they both raise off the lounge.

all is fair in love and war.

tag list: @luverboychris @floofparker @fake-sturniolos @letstripsturniolo @imwetforyourmom @mattsneezing @mattslolita @breeloveschris @rootbeerworshiper @mattstattoo @mxqdii @tay-laaaaa @pettydollie @lacysturniolo @annamcdonalds67 @landrysflannel @goandcomebsck @sleepysturnss @call-me-ninaaa @lustfulslxt @txssvx

[zutarawasrobbed]

ALTA Live Action Season 1 Initial Thoughts (Spoilers)

I just finished the season, and holy shit!

Quick things that need to be addressed/debunked:

“Sokka is no longer sexist”

I dont know what people were talking about when they talked about Sokka’s “sexism” being removed. It’s still there! But not in the overly exaggerated comical way it was in the original.

In fact, it’s more in line with ancient practices of indigenous tribes where men are seen as protectors and providers while women are expected to nurture. It’s not the same “boys are better than girls” narrative in the original.

Additionally, Suki still beats the fuck out of Sokka and humbled him really quick. They’re super cute by the way. And I love Suki’s “I like my men a little stupid” vibe. She’s great.

“Aang doesn’t run away like the original!”

That is not true. He does run away, but not because he’s trying to get away from the temple but instead to get some air because he feels overwhelmed. He’s more like taking a quick break and planning to come back. It’s not exactly the same, but almost. It also is done in a way where his guilt feels more justified.

“Katara doesn’t talk about her mom anymore like the original”

This is true… BECAUSE THEY SHOW INSTEAD OF TELL. I was honestly not prepared to see the death Kya in such graphic detail and how Katara was in the room hiding when it happened. It’s honestly really sad and more heartbreaking.

Plot:

The timeline seems to be ambiguous compared to the original series where it was “end of current year.” In fact, they repeat “three years” a few times, which makes me think if the series get greenlit for more seasons, it would be over a three year period.

Jet is still villainized but given more nuance and not a simple "good v bad" way like the original.

Zuko’s story about how he got his scar has additional lore that makes him come across as even more selfless and compassionate. The additional context of the platoon he advocated for in the war meeting, becoming his current crew, really added to the story.

Eradicated the nepotism baby plot point with Pakku only training Katara when he finds out he used to date her grandma. Instead, Katara proves herself and ends up teaching the other male fighters the techniques she learned from watching other benders use their elements and mimics them.

This season doesn’t have Aang learning any waterbending, but rather facing his trauma and the consequences of his actions. He get roasted by all his past lives. Which is an interesting choice, but I think it works well in how they executed it.

This season seems to actually be Katara focused and her journey of learning waterbending which I honestly loved because it really hits home the element of “water” being the story of an untrained waterbender learning her element. But, I do think Aang could’ve learned a little bending. It felt a little off.

Katara ends up advocating for all waterbending women and ends up leading an army of both men and women during the siege. She’s really bad ass and is given the title of master without being formally trained by Pakku. She made herself a master.

I think the timeline is a little wonky because of how much they had to fit in with the limited episodes they had.

Kuruk is given respect! I loved that.

June actually seems into Iroh which I thought was a funny but cool way to flip the script from the original.

The relationship between Zuko and Iroh is really beautifully executed. I love the depth they added with flashback scenes and their bond prior to the Agni Kai. It also wasn’t as frustrating watching Iroh and Zuko’s dynamic because Iroh communicated with Zuko in a way he could understand with straight answers rather than seeming to actively sabotage him with cryptic puns and shenanigans like the original.

They changed the love triangle with Yue Hahn and Sokka to be very healthy. They gave Yue autonomy and a choice in her relationship- which- again- is much more in line with indigenous cultures. Also, Hahn and Sokka’s relationship is really supportive and full of respect and no ill will.

They way they handled grief and the realities of war with the loss of life was very well done and really drove home the point that this is a war and these are child soldiers.

There’s a lot more but these are my initial thoughts. Will probably post more later.

Shipping:

Kataang is all but removed. Literally DOA. There is no indication of a crust on either side. It’s painted like a sibling relationship, which is like the original, but this time everyone seems to be on the same page. But, I swear the writers had to have read ZK fics because damn.

They canonized a popular Zutara theory/hc about the cave of two lovers and how the crystals would light up once it went completely dark instead of a “kiss” activating the crystal glow.

Speaking of the Cave of two lovers. They keep the Oma and Shu story with red and blue coloring. Making it come across more as foreshadowing than a direct link to the present tunnel story.

Sokka is put in Aang’s place with Katara in the tunnels and turned it into a story about the love of family and sibling bonds. Aang wasn’t even present.

Zuko and Katara share a meaningful look when they first see each other and continue to have a Katara centric scene followed by a Zuko centric scene and vice versa.

The scarf scene. I will not be elaborating further. If you know, you know.

Zuko and Katara fight scene in the North is epic. He still taunts her with almost the exact same dialogue but it’s so sassy- I love the banter.

Suki and Sokka were really cute and the actors had great chemistry. I think Yue and Sokka was really rushed and didn’t really feel anything about them, honestly. But I attribute that to lack of episodes to develop all that plot.

[cup1drul3z]

★ — I'll survive, i always do | FINAL SPECIAL

4.4ᴋ ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ | ʏᴇʟʟᴏᴡᴊᴀᴄᴋᴇᴛꜱ ᴀʀᴄᴀɴᴇ ᴀᴜ

CW : Plane crash, love triangle, pregnancy, wilderness, blood mentioned, fire mentioned, gun mentioned, suicide, major charater death

A/N: this was the longest ive ever taken to write something i honestly didnt know how to finally finish this series

The gym hadn’t changed much. Still smelled like old wood and lemon-scented floor cleaner. Still had those awful flickering lights. Still echoed like hell when people laughed too hard.

Sevika stood near the doors, arms crossed, eyes flicking across the streamers and balloons and the banner overhead: “Welcome Back, Class of 1997!”

Cute.

She downed the last of her plastic cup of something vaguely whiskey-flavored, then glanced at the clock. If she left now, no one would notice. No one ever really did.

She’d already done the whole circuit—signed in, stared at her old name tag too long, avoided everyone who looked at her like she should be dead. She didn't want to make small talk with people who got to go home after senior year.

Her feet were already turning when—

“Sevika?!”

The voice hit her like a dodgeball to the face. She blinked. Turned.

Jinx was halfway across the room, pink sequined dress, big white heels, and the most ridiculous blown-out blue curls Sevika had ever seen. She looked like a fever dream of a middle schooler’s idea of glamour. Still unmistakably her.

“You were just gonna leave?!” Jinx gasped, bounding over like nothing had happened—like twenty-five years of silence didn’t separate them.

Sevika huffed, biting back a smile. “Thought about it.”

“You look like you’ve been dragged through a sewer,” Jinx grinned. “You look great.”

Vi joined a beat later—shorter haircut, slightly softer face, but same stance. Arms crossed, head tilted, guarded but trying not to be.

Sevika gave her a nod. “Vi.”

“Sev,” Vi said with a sigh, a smile barely tugging at her lips. “Didn’t think you’d come.”

“I didn’t either.”

The three stood there, and for a moment it felt normal. Until Sevika looked up.

Everyone was staring.

Not in an obvious, finger-pointing way. Just… watching. Waiting. The plane crash had become a myth to most people—an urban legend with yearbook photos. The survivors? They were ghosts walking.

But no one said anything.

No one would say anything.

The music swelled again, people laughed, and the moment passed.

Until the principal tapped the mic.

“Hi, everyone,” she said with forced cheer. “So wonderful to see so many familiar faces. Before we get into dancing and drinks, I thought we’d take a moment to remember the classmates we lost…”

No. No, no.

Sevika’s spine went rigid.

The slideshow began.

Photos of bright smiles. Awkward teenage poses. Graduation robes. A track meet. Prom.

Then: “In Loving Memory.”

Mel. Caitlyn. Jayce.

And then— You.

Your photo wasn’t formal. Just a candid—eyes half-closed, laughing at something out of frame. She felt the breath leave her body.

The gym spun a little. The walls felt too close.

She shoved her way past a group near the snack table, pushed open the gym doors, and stumbled outside into the cool air.

The night hit her like a slap.

She paced the sidewalk, pulling a cigarette from her coat pocket with shaking fingers. She was halfway through lighting it when—

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

She froze.

Your voice.

She turned.

You were standing just a few feet away, leaning casually against the railing like you’d been waiting for her all night. Pale. Bloody. Bits of pine stuck in your hair like you’d just walked out of the woods.

But your eyes? Still warm. Still you.

“Jesus Christ…” Sevika whispered.

You tilted your head. “You didn’t think they’d use that photo, did you?”

Sevika couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move.

You stepped forward, smiling a little. “You know, you didn’t say goodbye.”

Her throat tightened. “You’re not real.”

“Maybe,” you said, still smiling, soft and eerie. “But you missed me anyway.”

The door creaked open behind her.

Vi stepped out, squinting against the light. “You okay?”

Sevika blinked—and you were gone.

Just the railing. Just the smoke curling from her cigarette.

“Got another one of those?” Vi asked, stepping beside her.

Sevika swallowed hard and handed her the pack.

Neither of them said anything for a minute.

Then Vi lit up and muttered, “God, I hate reunions.”

Sevika laughed once—just a breath. “Yeah. Me too.”

The two of them stood under the yellow glow of the parking lot lights, smoke curling from the ends of their cigarettes. The gym was still buzzing behind them—distant laughter, muffled music, the clink of drinks—but out here, it was quiet. Heavy.

Sevika hadn’t said a word since she came back from wherever she’d been… from whoever she’d seen.

Vi broke the silence.

“Can I ask you something?”

Sevika gave a noncommittal grunt, taking another drag.

Vi hesitated. “Do you ever… I don’t know. Hear things? See people?”

That made Sevika glance over.

Vi didn’t meet her eyes. “It started a few months ago. Maybe longer. I thought it was just dreams, but… she’s awake. She talks like she never died. Like we’re still in the woods, and we’re not starving, and nothing went wrong.”

Her voice cracked slightly. “Sometimes I see her walking ahead of me. Sometimes I forget she’s gone.”

A long silence settled between them. The cicadas buzzed in the distance. A car door slammed somewhere nearby.

Then Sevika said, quietly, “You see her too.”

Vi turned to her, brows furrowed. “Wait. You—?”

Sevika nodded once. Slow. Like saying it out loud made it more real. “Not all the time. Just enough to wonder if I’m losing it.”

Vi let out a shaky breath and looked away, blinking hard. “I didn’t think anyone else—”

“She talks like nothing ever happened,” Sevika murmured. “Like we’re gonna meet at the lake or raid the pantry. Like Jayce is still alive. Like you’re still talking to me.”

Vi laughed, bitter and low. “Guess we’re both crazy.”

“Maybe,” Sevika said. “Or maybe she never really left.”

They both went quiet again, the weight of it pressing into their bones.

“I don’t wanna go back in,” Vi muttered.

“Then don’t.”

They stood in silence, shoulder to shoulder. Haunted. United. For the first time in years.

Sevika’s head throbbed like it had been used as a drum. The taste of old whiskey clung to the back of her throat, and her shirt smelled like smoke and sweat and regret.

She groaned, squinting against the sunlight bleeding through the motel blinds. Her mouth was dry. Her knuckles bruised from gripping too hard—either the bottle or the steering wheel last night, she wasn’t sure.

She dragged herself into the tiny bathroom, flipping on the light with a wince. The mirror was streaked and fogged, but as she leaned down to splash water on her face—

Her breath caught.

There. Behind her in the reflection.

You.

You were standing behind her. Same messy hair. Same tired eyes. A little older than the last time you were real. You smiled, soft and tired, like nothing had ever happened.

Sevika spun around.

Empty.

She gripped the edge of the sink, head hanging low. “Get a grip,” she muttered. But her hands were shaking.

You were in her head again. And maybe you always would be.

She didn’t plan on going.

Didn’t know why she did, really. Maybe guilt. Maybe curiosity. Maybe punishment.

But here she was, standing outside the small house at the edge of town. Weathered siding. Wind chimes. Overgrown roses climbing the porch railing. It looked nothing like the woods. Nothing like blood and cold and desperation.

She knocked once. Twice.

The door opened.

And for a second—just a second—it was you.

Same eyes. Same mouth. The shape of your jaw. A little taller. Darker hair, maybe. But everything else? Like some cruel echo.

The woman blinked, confused. “Can I help you?”

“Val?” Sevika asked, her voice rough. Like it hurt to say the name.

Val nodded slowly. “Yeah…”

“I—” Sevika faltered. “I knew your mom.”

Val tilted her head, wary, but not unkind. “You’re… from the plane, right?”

“Something like that,” Sevika said, clearing her throat. “Can we talk?”

Val looked her up and down, then stepped aside.

“Yeah. I was wondering when one of you would show up.”

Sevika walked in.

And everything inside her started to shake.

Because Val moved like you.

Talked like you.

But you were gone.

And Sevika wasn’t sure if this visit was closure… or just another ghost in disguise.

The tea steamed softly between them, curling like ghost-breath in the silence.

Val sat across from Sevika at a small wooden kitchen table, her hands wrapped around a chipped floral mug. The silence wasn’t awkward, but it wasn’t comfortable either. It was heavy. Dense with the things neither of them knew how to say.

Val took a slow sip, then set the mug down gently. “You don’t have to tell me what happened,” she said. “I know some of it. The official version. The ‘we survived something no one else did’ story.”

Sevika looked down at her tea. Didn’t drink it. Just stared at it.

“But I always knew there was more,” Val added. “The way people flinch when they talk about it. The way they never say her name.”

Sevika’s jaw tightened. “You look just like her.”

Val blinked, caught off guard. “I get that a lot. I used to hate it. Now… I don’t know. I think I wear it like armor.”

“You move like her too,” Sevika said, her voice quieter. “It’s messed up. Every time I blink, it’s like I’m back in that cabin. Like she’s still eighteen and laughing like the world isn’t on fire.”

Val gave a sad smile. “You loved her.”

“Yeah.” Sevika finally took a sip. “Still do.”

There was a beat of silence before Val asked, “Did she love you?”

Sevika didn’t answer right away.

She stared into the tea again like it might offer her something—some truth she didn’t know how to say out loud.

“She didn’t get the chance to say it,” Sevika murmured. “But yeah. I think she did. I think we were finally getting there. And then...”

She trailed off. She didn’t need to finish.

Val didn’t push. She nodded, gently. “She always had good taste.”

That pulled a dry laugh from Sevika—soft and small, but real.

Val took another sip, then asked, “Do you still see her?”

Sevika froze.

Then nodded.

“Sometimes in dreams. Sometimes in mirrors. Sometimes when I wake up too fast and think I hear her singing in the kitchen.”

Val didn’t flinch. “Me too.”

They sat like that for a long time. Two versions of grief at the same table. One haunted by the past, the other shaped by it.

Eventually, Val spoke again. “You came here for a reason.”

“I needed to see if there was anything left of her,” Sevika admitted. “And there is.”

Absolutely—here’s a full rewrite of the scene, now with the updated context: Val was just a baby when they were rescued, and she was given your reader character’s belongings when she turned 18. The tone here is quiet, intimate, and emotionally charged, with Sevika finally stepping into the weight of what’s been left behind:

Val didn’t say anything when she stood from the kitchen table. She just glanced toward the back hallway and nodded for Sevika to follow.

They walked in silence, the house creaking under their steps. The floorboards were uneven, worn down from decades of trying to carry more than they were built for. Val led her to the basement door and flicked on the overhead light.

It buzzed to life—dim and yellow and tired.

The stairs groaned as they descended. The air was cooler down there, still. Like time hadn’t moved in years.

In the far corner were stacks of boxes. Carefully labeled in black marker.

[Y/N] – High School [Y/N] – Letters [Y/N] – Private DO NOT OPEN

Val didn’t touch them. She just sat on the bottom step, arms resting on her knees.

“They gave them to me when I turned eighteen,” she said. Her voice echoed in the basement—light, but distant. “Like some kind of gift.”

Sevika stood still, her eyes locked on the boxes. On the name. On you.

“They said I should know where I came from,” Val continued. “That it was time I started understanding what I was ‘meant’ to carry.”

She laughed once, hollow. “I don’t remember her. I was just a baby. But they handed me this whole person—her journals, her clothes, her mixtapes, a necklace with a broken clasp—and they wanted me to be her.”

Sevika’s jaw clenched.

“They didn’t say it like that,” Val added. “But they wanted her to live again. Through me.”

Sevika walked to one of the boxes, resting a hand on the lid. Her fingers were trembling.

“She was nothing like what people think,” Sevika said. “She was stubborn. Kind. Loud as hell. Braver than all of us.”

Val looked up. “Did she want to be a mom?”

Sevika’s throat tightened. That wasn’t a question she’d ever expected.

“She was scared,” Sevika said honestly. “But she never stopped trying. Even when she was starving. Even when she knew she wouldn’t make it. She protected you.”

Val nodded slowly. “I always thought... maybe I owed her something. For that.”

“You don’t,” Sevika said, finally meeting her eyes. “You don’t owe her anything.”

Val blinked, quiet.

“I do,” Sevika added, softer now. “But not you.”

They stood in the hum of silence for a while, surrounded by the pieces of a life that never got to be finished.

“She’d be proud of you, you know,” Sevika murmured.

Val tilted her head. “Why?”

Sevika gave a small, pained smile. “Because you’re not trying to be her. You’re just trying to live.”

Val didn’t smile back, but her shoulders relaxed. Just a little.

“I don’t want her story in a box anymore,” she said, finally. “If you have pieces of her—real ones—tell me.”

Sevika nodded once. “I will.”

And for the first time in years, it didn’t feel like memory. It felt like something finally waking up.

Sevika crouched in front of the box labeled [Y/N] – Private, running her calloused fingers over the lid for a long moment before carefully opening it. The smell hit her first—old paper, dried flowers, faint traces of the forest. Like the box had held in decades of memory and grief.

Nestled among loose photos and folded letters was a battered leather journal, the cover cracked and water-damaged, the edges curled like it had been clutched tight even in the rain. Her breath caught in her throat as she lifted it out.

“That one,” Val said quietly from behind her. “A girl dropped it off when I turned eighteen. Said she found it in the wreckage. She had bright blue hair… kind of wild. She didn’t say much. Just... handed it to me and left.”

Sevika’s hands tightened around the book. Her jaw clenched. Jinx. Of course.

She didn’t say anything—didn’t let Val see the wave of heat crawling under her skin. She just turned away slightly and slowly opened the journal.

The first page was smudged but legible.

Day 37. I don’t know what day it actually is. I just know the cold is different now. Not biting—numb. Like my body’s just giving up little by little. But I still feel her kick. And I think that’s enough for now.

Sevika blinked hard.

Her thumb moved to the next page.

Sevika held my hand last night. I think she thought I was asleep, but I wasn’t. She was shaking. I think she’s more scared than she’ll admit.

A few pages ahead:

Mel and Caitlyn are trying to keep it together. Vi’s getting reckless again. Jinx is quiet. That scares me more than when she’s loud.

Then—

I don’t want to die. But sometimes I think… if I do, I hope someone tells her that I tried. I tried to stay for her. For Val. For Sevika.

The name felt like a gut punch.

I’m sorry for yelling at her. I was scared. I didn’t want her to see how bad it was getting.

Sevika turned another page, and another—your handwriting becoming shakier, words rushed, ink bleeding where tears or rain had soaked through.

me and jinx have been waiting the storm out but the baby is coming now, something doesnt feel right.

then underneath it, smeared with blood. If Sevika finds this… I love you. I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner.

Sevika shut the journal, her hands trembling.

She didn’t cry.

Not in front of Val.

But her heart had already split open, and the only thing keeping her together was the sound of your words still echoing in her head.

Val stepped forward, her voice softer now. “You don’t have to say anything.”

“I know,” Sevika rasped, staring down at the journal. “But she did.”

Sevika sat in silence for a long while after finishing the journal, her thumb still brushing over the last page. Val had gone back upstairs to give her space, but her presence lingered like a soft weight.

She looked down again at the familiar handwriting. At the final entries.

There were things in there Val didn’t need to see. Things no daughter should ever read about her mother. Especially the parts after the first snowfall. Especially when the food ran out.

The entries got colder. Blunter. Less poetry, more survival.

Mel was the first. We told ourselves it was mercy. Caitlyn didn’t make it long after. Vi cried for hours. I didn’t eat. But I knew. I knew what they were doing. I kept thinking if I died, they’d feed on me too. I didn’t want to be food. I wanted to be remembered.

Sevika shut the journal again with a soft thud.

She stared at the worn leather for a long beat, then tucked it inside her jacket, close to her chest. Not because she wanted it. But because Val didn’t need to.

When she came back up the stairs, Val was washing dishes like she hadn't just passed her mother’s ghost down in the basement.

“I’m gonna come by again next week,” Sevika said, voice low.

Val looked over, drying her hands. “Yeah?”

Sevika nodded. “I owe you that much”

She didn’t wait for Val to ask questions. She just left—with the journal and everything it held.

Jinx’s apartment was quiet—too quiet. The kind of silence that clung to the walls and settled in the corners like dust. Sevika didn’t knock. She didn’t have it in her.

She kicked the door open and stormed inside, boots loud on the hardwood. Jinx was curled on the couch in a hoodie and shorts, fiddling with the antenna on a busted radio, a bowl of cereal half-eaten on the coffee table.

She looked up, blinking like she was waking from a nap. “Uh… hi?”

Sevika didn’t answer.

She walked straight up to the table and slammed the leather-bound journal down. The sound cracked like thunder in the silence.

Jinx’s face went pale.

“Why,” Sevika growled, “was this with Val and not me?”

Jinx sat up straighter, her hands trembling slightly. “I—what are you—she turned eighteen, I thought—she had the right—”

Sevika’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not what I asked.”

Jinx looked around like the walls might help her, her mouth opening, closing. “I didn’t think it was mine to give to you.”

“Bullshit.”

“I didn’t know how you’d take it!” Jinx snapped. “I thought it would mess you up!”

Sevika stepped forward, towering now.

“You think I wasn’t already messed up?”

Jinx backed into the arm of the couch. Sevika grabbed her by the collar and shoved her up against the wall in one hard motion, making the picture frames rattle.

Jinx gasped, her eyes wide. “Sev—!”

“Are you keeping something from me?” Sevika yelled, her voice raw. Her arm trembled from the pressure of holding back something worse. “Are you hiding something else?!”

Jinx swallowed hard. Her lips wobbled, her hands reaching up slowly like she didn’t know whether to defend herself or fall apart.

Then she broke.

“I destroyed it,” she whispered.

Sevika froze. “What?”

“The transmitter,” Jinx croaked. “After the crash. Three days in. I found the emergency transmitter in the tail wreckage. I—I didn’t tell anyone.”

The world shifted. Sevika could hear the blood rushing in her ears.

“I smashed it,” Jinx said. “I didn’t want them to find us. I thought someone dangerous would show up. I thought we could survive on our own. I didn’t—I didn’t think she’d die.”

Sevika stepped back like she’d been punched.

“She could have been saved.” Her voice cracked at the edges. “You let her bleed out in the cold.”

Jinx’s mouth trembled. “I didn’t mean for that to happen—”

CRACK.

Sevika’s hand struck her across the face.

Jinx stumbled into the wall, cradling her cheek, breath hitching in pain and shock.

Sevika stared down at her, shaking with fury. “And the hunts?” she asked. “The whispers? You turned us against mel, you told us she wanted to eat the baby”

Jinx didn’t answer.

“Tell me the truth.”

Jinx slowly looked up.

“I targeted Mel,” she said. “She wanted to leave. She- she found me with the transmitter. She was going to expose everything.”

Sevika stepped back.

Disgust. Horror. Rage. All boiling beneath the surface.

“You killed her.”

“She was going to bring it all back,” Jinx said, quieter. “The news. The names. All of it.”

Sevika didn’t think.

She didn’t plan it.

Her hand closed around the heavy brass lamp from the table beside the couch.

She swung.

THUD.

Jinx dropped instantly.

The silence returned. Sharp and suffocating.

Sevika stared down at her body, chest rising and falling like she’d just run ten miles.

Blood pooled on the rug. The same color as the forest had been, all those years ago.

She waited for the guilt.

It didn’t come.

The knock on Val’s door came just after midnight.

She had just turned off the last lamp and was sitting at the kitchen table, flipping through one of her mother’s old mixtapes like it might still hold some kind of answer. The sound made her jump.

She opened the door cautiously.

And froze.

Sevika stood there, her coat soaked in blood. Her hands red. Her expression hollow.

“Jesus,” Val breathed. “What happened?”

Sevika didn’t answer right away. She looked past Val, into the house, like it would be easier if she didn’t have to meet her eyes.

Val stepped back, alarm growing. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” Sevika said hoarsely. “It’s not mine.”

Val shut the door behind her quickly, locking it out of instinct.

“Sit down,” she said. “I’ll get water—”

“No,” Sevika cut in, her voice flat. “I’m not here for water.”

Val turned slowly, her face pale now.

Sevika stepped into the kitchen, dripping red onto the tile. She looked down at her hands. Then up at Val.

“I need to tell you the truth. All of it.”

Val didn’t move.

Sevika pulled the chair out and sank into it, her shoulders slumped like they weighed a thousand pounds.

“You read pieces of it. In her journal. But it didn’t say everything. Not the worst parts.”

Val leaned back against the counter, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

Sevika looked at her, and this time—she didn’t look away.

“When the food ran out… people changed. We changed. We weren’t right anymore. We started hearing things. Seeing people in the woods. We thought the trees were watching us. We started giving names to the shadows, making rules. Rituals.”

Val said nothing, but her face was drawn and pale.

“I was part of the hunts,” Sevika continued, voice ragged. “We took turns going after the weakest. Anyone who wanted out… or stopped believing in the way we were surviving. Mel tried to leave.”

Val’s lip trembled. “You killed them.”

Sevika didn’t answer.

Val’s voice cracked. “Did you kill her too?”

Sevika’s face crumpled. She looked away.

“We didn’t kill her. Not… directly.” She swallowed hard. “She died giving birth. Alone. In the cold.”

Val’s eyes welled. Her throat worked hard to hold something back.

“She bled out in my arms after jinx brought us to her,” Sevika said, tears finally forming in her eyes. “And we were starving. We buried her. But… not before…”

She couldn’t say the words.

But she didn’t have to.

Val’s knees buckled slightly. She leaned forward on the counter, her hand over her mouth.

“Oh my god.”

Sevika sat there, letting it hang in the air like smoke. Like the truth had poisoned the room.

“She didn’t want to die,” she whispered. “She wanted to be remembered. She wanted you to live.”

Val wiped her face, trying to breathe, trying to hold it in. Val looked at her again.

And this time, she didn’t see her mother’s protector.

She saw the monster that ate her

Sevika’s house was dark when she returned.

She didn’t turn on the lights. Didn’t take off her coat. The blood had dried, stiff and flaking. Her boots left faint red marks with every step across the hardwood floor.

She walked to the small desk in the corner of the room, opened the drawer, and pulled out the old handgun she hadn’t touched in years.

The metal was cold in her hand. Heavy. Familiar.

She sat down in the middle of the room, the weight of the silence pressing down around her. The journal still sat on the table, its pages curled. A life recorded in secret. A goodbye disguised as survival.

She checked the chamber. One bullet.

That’s all it would take.

She sat for a long time, the muzzle resting against her temple, her finger trembling on the trigger.

And then—

“Hey.”

She looked up.

You were standing across from her, near the doorway. Soft, bloody, barefoot. Just like you looked the day she lost you. Pale lips. Hair damp with snow. But your eyes were kind. Alive.

“You look tired,” you said, smiling gently.

Sevika’s hand shook harder.

You stepped closer, but didn’t touch her. “It wasn’t all your fault, Sev.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Sevika whispered, voice breaking.

“I’ve always been here,” you said.

A pause.

Then you knelt in front of her, meeting her eyes.

“She forgives you. But you have to forgive yourself.”

Sevika’s eyes flooded. Her chest heaved.

“I can’t.”

You smiled again. “Then let go.”

She closed her eyes.

And pulled the trigger.

The shot echoed through the house.

And then there was nothing but silence.

Just the way it was in the woods.

[ihavethedreamiesx]

Stupid | Wooyoung [NSFW]

Jung Wooyoung - ATEEZ)

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~10.2k

Pairing: Wooyoung x AFAB!Reader

Genre: Reader-Insert, Actual Plot, Fluff, Angst, Smut, Friends-to-Lovers, Comfort

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Caution: The angst in this story is more familial based. There are mentions of adultery/infidelity, but it's not dwelled on. This could be triggering for those who have had parent's leave or other similar circumstances, so just be warned.

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Pet Names (Princess, Sweetheart, Sunshine, etc.), Childhood/Teenage Trauma, Family Issues, Tears and Crying, Swearing, Unrequited Love, Kind of a Love Triangle, Kissing, Dirty Talk, Oral (F! Receiving), Fingering, Multiple Orgasms, Marking/Hickeys/Scratches, Couch Sex, Shower Sex, Unprotected Sex (Use a condom! Reader is on the pill)

Author's Note: Hm, just thought I would do this since I made something similar for San.

(S/N) is for the name of your sister.

Revised (1/31/25) - I forgot to change the name to (Y/N), so I fixed it!

I am cross-posting this on Archive. Please reblog! Share, even if its to the other sites! Let me know if you want to be on the taglist!

The only sound you can hear is your own aggressive keypresses. You’d paused your music to go to the bathroom and hadn’t bothered hitting play again. Staring hard at the screen, your eyes hurt even with the dark theme applied. The colorful lines of code on the dark screen blur and refocus, and you blink, trying to force your eyes to not blur again. Sighing, you push back from your desk, rubbing over your eyes. Taking your computer glasses off, you let them fall onto your desk and you get back up. It’s really hard to work at 2 am, let alone when your thoughts are racing; and the thoughts have nothing to do with your job. The last thing you need the day before a project is due is to loop on irrational thoughts. Your socked feet thump on the wood floor of your hallway as you go down it. Your sister’s door is propped open, so you quietly open the door, peeking inside. The soft teal lighting strip lining her walls casts a faint flow over the room. She’s starfish-ed on the bed, peacefully and messily asleep. Hugging, you step out and shut your door. How nice it must be to be thirteen... Pulling your phone from the pocket of your sweatpants, you exit the hallway and go into the kitchen. The large open room of the apartment includes the kitchen as well as dining and living areas. A spare room is in the back corner, empty since your friend had moved out a month before. Another room sits across from it, the large windows of the studio covered with tall curtains, but you know it’s just full of boxes of old things. Someday you’ll have the courage to go through them and get rid of stuff, maybe use the studio as an office or something, but…

Opening the fridge to get the pitcher of orange juice, the door shuts, and your eyes focus in the dark on the picture magnetically attached to the front. The picture is of a once happy life you lived. A black squiggle covers the face of the man, the woman next to him smiling like the sun. Glaring at the censored face, you yank the photography from the magnet clip and slap the picture on the counter. The pitcher follows and as you grab a glass, you pluck the scissors from the small utensil-filled mug on the counter. After pouring yourself a drink, and taking a few sips, you grab the photo. Holding it up, you realize it’ll make sense to turn the overhead light of the range hood on to see better, but you continue in the dark. Opening the shears, you cut a tiny slit into the white border of the photo and halt. The line splits the man’s pants from the shoulder of the little girl’s white sundress; she’s no more than four… She’s sitting on the lap of a girl looking much the same, just about twelve years older. It’s weird to see such a bright smile on your face.

The purple-handled scissors clatter onto the Formica counter; the photo still held in the crook of the blades. Resting against the counter behind you, you drink the juice in gulps, hissing through your teeth when it’s gone like it’s some kind of liquor. The glass-mimicking plastic cup clanks into the sink, and you leave the kitchen to shuffle back to your room. As you reenter, you yank the zipper down of your hoodie, nearly tearing the garment off and throwing it harshly onto the floor. You let the door click quietly closed despite wanting to slam it and go back to your computer. Your chair lets out a puff of air when you plop down into it, the remaining pieces of the candy necklace you had on bouncing over your collarbone. Crunching on one of the sugary beads, you flip your phone over, so the screen faces up, tapping the black surface and a small white notification bubble shows itself under the white numbers of the clock; 2:13 am. Unlocking the phone with your finger print, you open your message app and sniff at the message in annoyance.

🦊WooWoo🦊: did you get it done?

He’d sent it nearly an hour prior. You glare at your computer screen, then to the second monitor, the program running over and over, glitching at the same time stamp each time.

☀️: not even close 🦊: why are you up young lady ☀️: why are you?

He doesn’t reply right away so you look back at your computer, clicking your tongue. Hitting save and closing the window, you instead open up a new email and send one to your coworker that it might not get there by tomorrow night but that you’ll try. It’s not a hard deadline anyway. You work for an Indie label, not some AAA, so that gives you some flexibility. Closing the window, you stare at your background for a good few minutes, waiting for Wooyoung to reply. The picture used to make you smile, but it hurts your heart. San’s cute dimple smile, and his arm around you makes you wince. Wooyoung’s on your other side, his cheek pressed into the side of your head as he hugs you. You’re leaning into San, trying to escape the other man’s embrace, at least that was your excuse… The picture is getting close to five years old.

🦊: games 🦊: why are you up ☀️: working. thinking 🦊: about? ☀️: how shit I feel 🦊: you sick??

You roll your eyes; he isn’t super intuitive sometimes. It’s almost 2:30 in the morning though.

☀️: no. how shitty my life is now compared to back then…

Once again, he takes a bit to reply, and you almost get up to use the restroom before going to bed. Your phone then buzzes on the desk, the noise even louder going through the wood, and you grab it quickly, answering the call.

“Your life isn’t shitty (Y/N). I’m here, huh?” His giggle is forced. You just huff, getting out of your desk chair to move to your bed.

“Livin’ the dream.”

“What’s it this time? Your…da- uh, male-life-giver?” His little catch at least makes the corner of your mouth crook up.

“Yeah.”

“How’s (S/N)?”

“Good, I guess. She…she was a bit too young to really remember either of them.”

“Even if she doesn’t, it can’t be easy with…how it all played out.” He’s trying to be careful with what he says, but you’re already in a bad mood.

“Our dad cheating, leaving us for his second family and then my mother…” You thought tears would come to your eyes, but maybe you’re too tired.

“Where do you think she went?” Your best friend’s voice is soft.

“No clue. Neither did Gramma, or the cops. She could be in Timbuk-fucking-tu for all I know.”

“Do you want to go out tomorrow with me and San? Or do you have to work?” Before you can answer, your phone buzzes, and you pull it away from your ear. Opening the email from your coworker, you sigh in relief. Perfect timing.

“Not anymore. The character models are getting scrapped and redone so that means my code has to be scrapped. Might be why I can’t get it to move right.”

“What about (S/N)?”

“She’s thirteen not three. I’ll have her sleep over at a friend’s maybe…”

“Great! Get some sleep, sunshine. Meet us at 9!” He hands up and you flop back onto your mattress, feeling disappointed for some reason. Finally working up the energy to get off the bed, you go back to your computer and shut it down, staring at San’s smiling face a little too long, before letting it actually turn off.

~TωT~

“Good morning, little lady.” You leave the hallway, sandals in your hand. Your sister sends you a tired look over her cereal, waving lazily.

“G’mornin’.”

“Do any of your friends get to have sleep overs on school nights?” Her eyes open a bit wider then, then squint as she thinks.

“Uh…probably. Going out with-“ she gives a flirty pose, batting her eyelashes, “Sannie?” the drops the act.

“Wooyoung’s going too.”

“Oh. You ever gonna tell him?”

“Tell San I like him? I don’t know…”

“San? Oh, yeah, right… Why not?” You don’t answer right away, pouring a glass of juice.

“You’re gonna turn into an orange.” Your sister rolls her eyes, and you pour just a bit more before putting the pitcher back down.

“I just… I don’t think I stand a chance.”

“What?! Why?!” Your sister acts like you’ve personally offended her. Even before your whole messed up parental situation, you two never bickered or anything. Probably because you’re nearly thirteen years older than her.

“I’m not his type. He probably sees me as a sister. Also, he looks like that,” You motion down at your white tank and a think blue plaid shirt over, and worn denim capris, “and I’m…”

“You better compliment yourself.” Your sister glares at you, making you sigh.

“He likes the girls in skirts with makeup and their nails done. The ones that giggle at everything he says and touch his bicep ‘accidentally’…” You drift off, getting mad at the mental pictures.

“Then do all that.” (S/N) shrugs, getting up to put her cereal bowl in the sink.

“Counter.” You correct and she rolls her eyes, taking the bowl out and moving it to the counter.

“(S/N), I don’t even own a tube of mascara.” You sigh, then proceed to down your orange juice again like it’s a stiff drink. Your throat burns and your stomach stings somewhat… maybe you do drink too much.

“Use mine.”

“What?” You turn fast to look at her and her eyes widen in panic.

“I only have mascara, I promise!” She lifts her hands in surrender, and you breathe out your nose hard. She’s only a year off being allowed make up, you at least want to maintain the rules your mother put on you with your sister. Even if a lot of them never had to truly be enacted on you.

“Look, I’m just going to go hang out with them and pretend one of my best friends isn’t sex on legs.”

“I’m pretty sure they both are, but okay…” (S/N) mutters under her breath as she passes you to go get her backpack and you pretend to not hear her.

~θɞθ~

“Bye, sis!” (S/N) gets out of the car and heads into her middle school. She’s one of the few who doesn’t mind being seen dropped off right in front of the school, but laid-back older sisters are much, much coolers than any parent.

“Just text me who you can stay with!” You call to her, and she turns around with a shocked face.

“Right! What about my bag? My locker’s not big enough!” She realizes, coming back to your rolled down window, leaning into it.

“I’ll bring it by after you club meeting is done.”

“Really?! Can you bring WooSan?”

“Don’t call them that!” You scold, but laugh nonetheless, “Sure.”

“Bye, sis!” She takes off again, meeting her similarly uniformed friends by the entrance. You’re blessed that the school was willing to take her in for free more-or-less on a scholarship. Your mother had wanted both of you to go to the same school, but it’s private, and you’re in no way capable of paying. If you were, you wouldn’t be driving a whine red 2002 Hyundai Sonata with suede upholstery. Pulling out of the drop-off line, you continue down the road till you meet the traffic light. It sits at the edge of the academy’s campus and the park where you’re meeting the guys is just past the light. As you wait for the light to turn, you tap your fingers on the steering wheel along to the music playing from your radio. The light takes even longer because the crossing guard is leading a group of elementary schoolers across. You’re watching them pass in their cute little uniforms when you’re startled by a knock on your window. You flinch, looking to see what looks to be a high school boy on the other side. You roll the slightly tinted glass down just enough that you’d be able to hear him. He flashes a smoldering smile, and you blatantly sneer.

“What, kid?”

“You obviously don’t go to school here, you from the public school?” How dumb is this kid? You haven’t been in high school for seven years. You have a college degree and everything. Most might take it as a compliment to be seen as looking young enough to be a teenager, but…

“Get lost, squirt.” You scoff, looking away but not bothering to roll the window back up. You’re a bit curious what his reaction will be.

“I might look young, but I’m a senior this year, princess.” He’s clearly a little put off by your flat dismissal, trying to keep a flirty tone.

“Fuck off, kid. She’s our princess.” A familiar voice hits your ears, and you sigh in relief, watching Wooyoung essentially hip bump the kid so hard he falls back onto the sidewalk. Your heart skips as you huff a laugh, watching San come up as well and unlock the doors so the two guys can climb in, right as the light turns green. San barely shuts the back door before you take off, leaving the teenager’s friends laughing at this sorry state. Crossing the median, you pull into the parking lot of the park and slump back into your set.

“Got your favorite~” San leans forward, toned arm hovering over the center console, holding a bag with one finger.

“Sweet!” You swipe it from him and Wooyoung gets out, running around to your side where the window is still rolled down.

“Hey, pretty lady, want to go make out behind the bleachers?” He leans against the side of your car just like the cocky teen had and you can’t help but laugh.

“Uh, no.” You wonder if he catches your glance in your rearview mirror to watch San get out of the car, holding the drink holder of ice coffees as well. You can’t meet his gaze though, and surprisingly, he doesn’t respond, just stands up and starts to follow San down the path.

“Hey, wait up!” You get out quickly, nearly forgetting your phone and to lock the car as you dash after them. Finally getting half-way around the pond that’s trying to be a lake, you sit on a picnic bench of the wooden shelter right on the edge of the water. Some ducks quack as they lazily swim closer, hoping for a snack. As you take a long sip of your ice coffee, you watch San get up and go closer to the ducks, a little bit of his croissant left. Your eyes can’t help but travel over the wide expanse of his shoulders and back. His arms are on display since he’s in a sleeveless hoodie, and you smile at him as the ducks happily eat the bread.

“That’s bad for them, y’know?” Wooyoung calls and the other man tosses him a bored look over his shoulder, then goes back to the birds. Because you’re too busy eying over your friend, you don’t notice Wooyoung watching you. He lifts half of his nose in a sneer, glaring at his friend who’s taking up all of your attention. Wooyoung wants to blame it on that San’s started working out since you’d all started being friends, but he’s not sure that’s it.

“Just fucking tell him.” He whispers harshly to you and his sudden mutter makes you choke. San immediately turns around, and you wave him off, but he still goes to your side, patting your back some to help.

“You okay?” He kneels next to you, and you nod, flashing a small smile, trying not to get red. Not like you can control it… Just then, something green flies through the air, flying past San’s head as he stands, and he’s toppled over by a mass of blonde fur.

“Jeremy, get off of him!” A young woman scolds the golden retriever as it refuses to get off of San, sniffing him and licking his face. Why am I jealous of a dog? You sigh, slumping back against the wood railing of the shelter.

“Why don’t you tell him?” Wooyoung’s next whisper is much softer, he sounds very tired.

“And get rejected? Ruin our friendship? No.” You whisper back, still watching the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. The dog is a fat mood, refusing to get off of San…

“I’m so sorry!” The woman finally manages to pull the dog off of the man and he gets up laughing. She immediately blushes, finally able to see San past all of the fluff. Looking away and down the path to where the green flying disk still lies you get up to retrieve is, since the dog failed its job.

“Here.” You force a smile as you hand it back to her and she snaps out of her daze to take it from you, immediately looking back to San. Luckily, she leaves not too longer after and you’re able to continue the day with the two guys.

~υ-υ~

A week passes, and you still haven’t been able to work because the rest of the team can’t get their act together and finish their parts. So, you’d been left to your thoughts which is never good. You sit on the couch, boredly and only partially watching the TV. Your knees are pulled up to your chest and your hands lazily tap a rhythm on the worn faux leather of the couch. Tilting your head, it rests on the back of the couch, and you stare at the ceiling of your loft apartment, the large ventilation pipes curving around the support columns high above your head. When the doorbell rings you almost don’t recognize it, thinking it might have been on the show. It happens again and you know it’s yours because the TV now displays a commercial for some kind of sports drink. Getting up with a groan, you trudge over to the door, a young woman stands on the other side, and her face makes you nervous. She looks…

“Hi. Are you (Y/N)?” She smiles gently and you nod.

“I’m Jena Hwang. Can…can I come in?” When she says her last name, your heart falls. You know immediately who she is.

“Sure.” Your tone is flat, but since she doesn’t know you, it seems she doesn’t notice. You motion her in and toward the couch and you glance around your place. It isn’t messy, but it isn’t nice either. She’s in a sundress that’s at least $300, and she has a giant rock on her finger. You grimace as she sits on your very well-worn couch and you sit down as well, facing her by sitting sideways. She puts her designer bag down, linking her fingers and resting her hands on her knee, legs crossed.

“I’m sorry to intrude, but… I’m assuming you know Daniel Hwang?” You never wanted to hear that name again.

“Uh, yeah.” You shuffle on the couch, the faux leather creaking under you.

“I’m his daughter. I have to admit I was being a little…stalky?” She cringes at herself, smiling sheepishly.

“Dad is…well, he doesn’t have much longer.” When you don’t really react, she continues. On the inside, you’re just aren’t sure how to react.

“They don’t know if he drank too much when he was younger or what, but his liver is failing. He’s been on a transplant list, but they can’t find anyone compatible.” She better not have come to get you to give him half of your fucking liver-

“Anyway, I was looking over his will-“

“Where’s your mom?”

“Huh?”

“How…what about your mom?”

“Oh, uh…” She looked down, a sad expression covering her face.

“When he got sick, she left him, so I’m in charge of everything.” Rolling your eyes, you huff, looking toward the kitchen, focusing on the picture on the fridge you meant to cut up.

“Uh… Right, your name is on the will.” She pulls a packet of paper from her purse, showing you where your name is highlighted. You don’t even care what he’s leaving you, so you hand it back.

“I don’t want it.”

“O-oh…if you don’t mind me asking, who are you?” You raise an eyebrow, and she wilts under your glare.

“You don’t know?”

“No, sorry.” She hides bashfully behind the papers, “are we cousins or something?” You just stare at her in shock.

“No offense, but it’s a bit weird to have a niece in your will when you have four kids?”

“Look, if you want my part, have it.”

“No! That’s not… Actually, the reason I’m really here is-“ She pulls something else out of her bag and you recognize it.

“Dad kept saying the name Naomi.” You stand up at this and she flinches. You pace a bit, hands going to your head, fingers digging into your scalp. Breathing out slowly, you turn back to her.

“Sorry…keep going, I’m just…struggling with this.” She seems a bit unwilling to continue without asking anything, but she does so as you sit back down. Your ire is evident, you’re sure.

“Um…well, I can’t figure out who she is, so I looked in his yearbook. He’s…” She flips to the middle of the book, “with a girl named Naomi.” She shows you the page, but you already know it. High School Sweethearts reads in the flowery script over the picture of your parents.

“But when I looked her up, I can’t find anything.” Of course not. You never could either.

“So, I used Google’s new AI search with this picture, and I found a woman…” You hadn’t gone that far, still not really trusting any kind of program claiming to be AI. She pulls out another paper from her bag and shows it to you. It’s an article about some town’s mayor on the other side of the country, and the caption lists the woman next to him as his wife. It’s your mother… But her name is wrong.

“It says her name is Carry, but that looks like the same woman, right?”

“Y-yes.”

“Maybe they’re sisters? Twins even? I know it’s a long shot, but do you have her contact information? Even if they broke up soon after high school, maybe she’d be willing to see him since he’s dying…” As soon as you see her face on the paper, your anger leaves, and you’re holding back tears.

“I don’t…but-“ you take a shuddering breath, “uh, I don’t think she’ll go see him.”

“Really?” She deflates a bit, and you look down at your lap, picking at your torn jeans.

“Uh. No. She’s…Okay, I’m in the will because I’m…your sister. Those are my parents. She’s my mother.” This information floors her, her jaw literally dropping. Sniffing hard, you hate crying, let alone in front of essentially a stranger.

“How old are you?” Your question snaps her back, making her flinch.

“T-twenty.” Of course.

“Dad…He uh, left us and mom for…you guys. The mom fucking snapped or broke or whatever and left us too.” You look at the printed off article, at your mother’s smiling face next to some man you’ve never seen or heard of before. This shocks her even further. You give her the article back and stand, moving to the door.

“Uh, take me out of the will or whatever and just leave us alone please. Thank you.” You open your front door, not able to look at her.

“U-us?”

“Ah… (S/N). My thirteen-year-old sister.” This must really make this Jena girl realize why you’re acting the way you are. It isn’t that your father left your mother then fathered her, he had both families at the same time.

“M-my brother is twelve…” Reality is hitting her.

“Great. That sucks for everyone, please leave.” You motion with your arm for her to get out and as soon as she shuffled out into the hallway, you let the door fall closed. Your shoulder hits the wall, and you slump to the floor, hot tears falling down your cheeks and onto the floor. Your chest heaves as you sob, hand covering your mouth to keep you quiet.

“Fuck!” You scream, grabbing a cheap ceramic bowl you use for change and chuck it across the room. It hits the column behind your TV and shatters, coins clattering onto the floor in its trail. You bury your face in your hands, breathing harshly, trying to prevent yourself from hyperventilating. Your phone buzzes on the coffee table. It buzzes again a few minutes later, then again. Again.

“Damnit.” You get up, storming over to your phone, looking at it. It’s the group chat, Wooyoung and San are talking about doing something the next day, some kind of lawn game competition at the community college. When they see you’re reading the messages but not replying, your phone rings with a call from Wooyoung.

“I know that we’re not in college anymore, but we can get away-“ You’d stopped crying more or less, but hearing his voice brings tears back to your eyes and you fight a sob.

“Are you crying? What happened?”

“U-um…” You swallow hard, a lump rising in your throat along with the tears.

“I’ll be there in five…six minutes!” He hangs up and you let the device fall onto the couch. Your shoulders fall as you stand in the middle of the main room of your place, glaring at the coffee table’s scratched surface. A tear falls onto the plywood, then another. Snapping out of your daze when hard knocks pound on the door, you only get hallway to the door before he opens it, finding it unlocked.

“(Y/N)?” Seeing the concerned look of your best friend makes you feel safe and so your self-erected walls fall. He shuts the door as he moves forward, catching you in his arms as you shrivel to the floor. Wooyoung holds you tighter as you cry, desperate sobs and whimpers muffled as you press your face into his chest. Your tears darken the red fabric of his sweatshirt, and he adjusts your position, so you sit on the floor, legs over one of his, cheek pressed to his collarbone. A tear of his own falls and mixes with yours on your jaw, but you don’t notice it. He doesn’t know what happened that wrecked you so badly, but he can’t stand hearing and seeing you so upset. He even hates it if you cry at a movie.

“What happened, sunshine?” His embrace loosens so you can sit up straighter, tears still falling, but you aren’t actively sobbing. Wooyoung cups your cheek in his hand, wiping a tear from your eye. You have to take several deep breaths through the story, but you manage to tell him what happened.

“M-my mother’s alive, Wooyoung.” Your voice has quieted so much at the end, but he still hears the pain.

“(Y/N), sweetheart, come here.” He stands, helping you get up and he leads you over to the couch. He grabs your phone, and you rest back on the couch as he easily puts in your pin code without having to ask what it is. You listen half-heartedly as he calls your sister, most likely just getting out of class, about to go to her art club meeting.

“Again? Is this going to be weekly? I think I can stay with Amanda, maybe Emily…” You hear (S/N) sigh, “what about my stuff?”

“Can’t you manage with borrowing?” Wooyoung casts you a glance, your forearm over your eyes.

“I guess. What’s wrong with (Y/N)?”

“She’s just really struggling with something.”

“What?”

“Adult stuff.”

“Okay, yeah, sure, uh-huh.”

“She’ll tell you when she’s ready, little lady.”

“You better take good care of her Mr. Jung.”

“I will Miss Hwang.” He hangs up and puts your phone back down. You feel the couch shift when he stands up, then feel his body heat as he kneels on the floor next to you. Wooyoung gently removes your arm from your face, and you turn to look at him.

“Oh, sweetheart…” He sighs, hand going to your cheek, rubbing his thumb over the red skin of your cheek, brushing away a stray tear.

“C-can you call San? And we can watch a movie? Get Indian food?” You aren’t sure how to read Wooyoung’s expression. He seems to be thinking, but then he forces a smile and nods.

“Sure, princess.” Wooyoung stands and presses a long kiss to your forehead, and you blame your turbulent emotions on your racing heart.

~σ-σ~

About two weeks later, you find yourself sitting on the couch, staring at the number you’ve plugged into your phone. You haven’t pressed call yet, the non-local area code of the number glaring at you. It’s a long shot, but you hope calling the mayor’s office might get you somewhere. You’ve been stalling for a long time, his office will only be open for another hour thanks to the time difference. Your sister is getting annoyed with you having her stay the night at a friend’s place, but luckily, she has a slumber party she’d been invited to. The sun is starting to set, and you finally work up the courage to hit call, then turn it onto speaker, at 5:57. It’s probably around 3 there…

“Mayor Elledge’s office, this is Peg.”

“Hi, uh, Peg. I’m… I’m trying to get in contact with Carry Elledge, but I’m not sure how to get ahold of her…” The silence scares you, worried that the woman might be too suspicious to help you.

“May I ask who you are?”

“I’m…a relative. It’s about…my father’s will.” Please work…

“I see… I can get you her cellphone number.” The secretary relents and you sigh in relief, thanking her several times. Typing the number she give you into your notes app, you politely end the conversation and go to call the other number while you still have the courage to do so.

Ring… Ring… Ring-

“Hello, this is Carry?” It’s your mom, no doubt. Tears well in your eyes and you swallow, voice coming out softer than normal to keep from crying.

“M-mom? It’s me. It’s (Y/N).” More silence.

“I think you might have the wrong number, dear.” You feel your face fall, your brow furrowing, your lip trembling.

“This isn’t Naomi Hwang?”

“No, dear, sorry.” There isn’t any kind of recognition in her voice, but it’s hers.

“O-oh…okay, sorry.” The call ends and you press your lips hard together, jaw clenching. What the hell happened? You sit trying to wrap your head around everything, about thirty minutes passing, and your phone stars to ring. It’s a different number, but it’s the same area code as the other two.

“H-hello?”

“Are you the young woman looking for Naomi Hwang?” A man speaks, and you wonder if it’s the mayor guy.

“Yessir.”

“You must be (Y/N).”

“What the hell happened to my mother?” Your tone doesn’t have nearly as much malice as you wanted. Even if this guy did nothing wrong, you hate him. He sighs. He explains that he found her near death in an alleyway. She was malnourished and dehydrated. He got her to the hospital, she had been in a medically induced coma for a few days, and when she woke up…she didn’t remember anything.

“So, she has no idea about her past life?”

“No, miss.”

“Thank you for…not letting her die.”

“I’m sorry to not be of more help Miss (Y/N). Though, I don’t think it’s good for her to be reminded of her past life. I called because she is…having a panic attack. Maybe it was your voice, some part of her recognized it maybe? It’s clear she’s traumatized from her past. I think it’s best if you leave her be.” You don’t want to. You want to get in your car, grab your sister, and drive for the three or four days you need, and get your mother. But… she isn’t your mother anymore, even if she does remember you, it’s clear her brain is hiding you and your sister.

“I…Okay. If you want to know, Daniel Hwang is dying.”

“Good.”

“Yes.”

“I appreciate you wanting to reach out, but I’d like you to lose our numbers.”

“Yessir.” He hangs up. Your body must’ve ran out of tears along with your energy because you just slump back into the couch. Something rises in your then, something bold. Grabbing your bag, phone and keys, you leave your place, heading for Wooyoung and San’s.

~₸v₸~

As you ride the elevator to the third floor, you’re shaking. Whether it’s nerves or pure exhaustion you aren’t sure. Going down the hall, you hear voices further down and you finally see the owners as you turn the corner. San’s standing at this apartment door, some bleach blonde girl wedged between him and the door. You aren’t sure how to feel, your emotions are too turbulent. Somehow, it feels like your heart finally completely shatters, but you’re also relieved, but the latter makes you mad. You turn and flee before you can see his lips actually meet hers.

~ę×ę~

“(Y/N)?” You hear your name through the door, then Wooyoung’s rapid knocks. You’re slumped against the island counter, hands stinging and bleeding, shards of glass and ceramic scattered around the room. Tissue paper and packing peanuts are strewn about the main room of the apartment as well, old papers and books torn and discarded. Splinters of wood from broken frames and dismembered toys litter the floor as well, and you run your thumb over a glass paper weight shaped like a cat.

“(Y/N)?!” Wooyoung jiggles the door handle harder, but it’s locked. A red smear follows your thumb on the glass cat, the cuts on your palms still oozing blood.

“Damnit, (Y/N) Hwang! Open the fucking door, I know you’re in there.” He’s panicking, you can hear it in his voice.

“Fuck off.” You sigh, throwing the glass piece as hard as you can, and it hits the far wall. The ear chips of and breaks, the finish over the brick wall flaking off, then it clatters to the floor.

“(Y/N), please princess, let me in.” You hear a thump, presumably his forehead hitting the door. You lick your lips, the salt of your tears hitting along with the iron tang of blood. You aren’t sure if it’s from where you’d bitten your lip or the cut on the tip of your nose.

“(Y/N)… Please, I need to see you, sweet girl. Please let me know if you’re okay.” You don’t know what time it is, just that it’s late, only the light of the storage room flowing into the room from the door. Your phone had been going off, and you hated the final message you saw on it, so you chucked it across the room as well, breaking it instantly. The place is a mess, and you’re grateful your sister isn’t home to see your breakdown.

“Go away, Wooyoung.” Your voice is hoarse after your crying, but the door is thin, and you know he hears.

“Not a fucking chance, (Y/N).”

“Just…just let me be alone.”

“No! Open the door, damn it!”

“Go home.”

“Shit. (Y/N) open the freaking door or I’m coming up the fire escape!” You know he means it. You get up, not bothering to be careful of what you step on, only wincing slightly as a speck of glass wedges in your foot, joining other scrapes and cuts already present. Shakily, you undo the door chain, and he must hear you turn the deadbolt and unlock the doorknob, because he opens the door before you can. He gasps, looking at your face, pale but red from smeared blood of the small cuts on your face. He looks at your hands too, and the bloody footprints on the floor…

“Oh, my god, (Y/N).” Wooyoung shuts the door, dropping his backpack and cupping your face with his hands. They’re cold from being out in the early autumn night and you don’t even react when he does so. Wooyoung lifts your head so you can look at him and his brow furrows in despair at the blank look in your eyes. Finally, he looks around the room in the low light, shocked at the carnage.

“I called her.” You manage to get out and he looks back at you, confused.

“Mom. I looked up the mayor guy’s office number and called. She didn’t… She didn’t know who I was. Her husband called and told me she had some kind of amnesia after he found her. Then he told me never to try again. So, I…” you lick your lips, “then I…I decided and went to your place. San was taking some blonde bitch into the apartment.” Your breath shudders and his shoulders slump.

“(Y/N)-“

“I…I went to the store, but they were out of Cayman Jacks. The Indian place down the street closed early. The pizza place was out of white sauce… I grabbed some random food from the convenience store and then when I got home… I got a text from that Jena girl, my half-sister,” you spit, “dad’s dead.”

“(Y/N), sunshine, you must… What can I do?” He steps closer, one hand leaving your face to grab your hand. You flinch at the sting, and he holds your hand up to see the cuts in the skin. It looks like you have a few splinters as well.

“Help me clean this mess?”

“I’ll just do it, let’s get you cleaned up first.”

~

He picks a few splinters out of your hands and feet, then sends you off to shower. Wooyoung vows to work on the mess more later, maybe even get Seonghwa’s help, but he deals with the dangerous stuff first. He’s shoved and/or swept all the debris into a big pile in the ravaged storage room, leaving the mess for another time. After carefully picking up all the sharp shards and splintered wood, he vacuums to make sure everything is picked up. He glances up when you shuffle out of the hallway, a towel draped over your wet hair, a soft light-weight grey sweater draped over your torso, and a darker grey pair of shorts nearly hidden by the shirt. Your head is bowed, hands and feet red and he shuffles over to lead you to the couch.

“Did you use soap?”

“Mm… Conditioner stung.” You sit, and he pulls your hands into his lap so he can look them over.

“I’ll help you with these.” He lets your hands go and then his own go to the towel on your head, gently rubbing it over your hair, then scrunching the strands with the fabric to get more of the water out. Gently he lays it around your neck and shoulders, so the still damp strands don’t drip on your shirt. When Wooyoung returns with your first aid box from the bathroom, you’re still sitting in the same spot, staring blankly at a spot on the couch. Sighing, he goes back to you and neither of you say anything as he smears ointment on the cuts. He goes ahead and just wraps some bandages around your right hand since it’s so cut up, but puts band aids on the other. Wooyoung does the same with your feet, and you don’t even flinch even though you’re usually ticklish there. As he finishes some other little tidying things, you run your finger over the chipped nails of your opposite hand, the polish flaking and cracked as well even though (S/N) only painted them two days prior.

“(Y/N), look at me.” He prompts and when you don’t, he gently lifts your head with his finger under your chin.

“I’m so sorry, princess, that your…about your mom. And your father. But with San-“

“It was a stupid thought. I don’t know why I got the courage to go.” You try to look away, but he forces you back to look at him, thumbs stroking your cleaned face. The little cuts have already pretty much closed, and he leans forward and presses a small kiss on the scratch on the tip of your nose.

“It’s not stupid, (Y/N). Neither are you; he is.” You huff a wry laugh, but he shakes his head.

“No, he is. He’s a fucking idiot. You wanna know why?”

“Yeah, why?” You pull both of your legs up under you, leaning with you side into the back of the couch, head resting on the back cushion.

“Any man who doesn’t fall in love with you after knowing you is an idiot. I think I’m the only smart person there is.” Wooyoung shakes his head, throwing the band-aid wrappers onto the coffee tables. It takes your tired brain a bit to process what he’s said, but you still barely have the energy to snap your head up to look at him.

“What?”

“You’re looked at him like he’s hung the damn moon for like two years, but you’re still like a sister to him or something. Fucking stupid.”

“You…fell in love with me?”

“Yes! And you’re an idiot for not noticing. That’s why I’m the only smart one.” He stands up to actually throw the wrappers away, using the task to flee since he’s flushed from his confession. He stands looking down into the nearly full trash for a few seconds, trying to think of what to do next. Before he can turn back to you, he feels your arms wrap around his middle from behind, your cheek pressing to his back. He isn’t very tall, one of the shortest in your friend group, but you’re small compared to even him. Normally your hugs have a great deal of strength in them, like you do as a whole, but he can feel your arms shaking around him.

“I’m sorry for being an idiot, Wooyoung.” Your voice is quiet, he feels it vibrate through him more than actually hearing it with his ears. He sighs.

“It’s…it’s fine. You can’t help how you feel any more than I can.” He lays his hand over your arm, gently prying you off of him, but pulling you back into him once he turns around. As he rests back against the island, you go with him, letting him hold you close. His fingers run through the drying strands of your hair, and you shuffle even closer when he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I…My brain is too frazzled to give you a response right now, Woo. I…I want to tell you-“

“It’s fine, (Y/N). I’m not expecting anything back…”

“No, it’s… I can’t put emotions together right now, but I might like you back, but it could just be my subconscious looking for comfort.”

“Can I help? We can talk it out? What do you want me to do?”

“What do I want…?”

“Anything.” You pull back to look at him, looking over his face. He’s so freaking pretty, his longer black hair is pulled half-up, a few strands framing his face. The ends of the little strands brush over the beauty mark under his eye and your eyes flit to the small one he has on his lip. You bet most people don’t even know it’s there… Bringing your left hand up, your sleeve falls so it’s no longer hanging by your fingers, and your index finger runs over the small dot. You flinch when he quickly grabs your wrist, a little tighter than it maybe should be. He realizes this and loosens, sliding his thumb up to your palm.

“(Y/N). Be careful, sweetheart.” With his grip on your wrist, he pulls you closer.

“Anytime you’re close to me, I want to hold you. I want to kiss you. I want to pin you to the nearest surface and…” He licks his lips, brow furrowing, “don’t let me do something you’ll regret because you’re weak now.” You grimace, looking down, stepping back from him.

“D-don’t…” Your breath shudders and he can tell you’re starting to cry again.

“Hey, hey.” He pulls you back in for a hug, “I will hold you as long as you want. I can lie on the couch, and you can lie on me. We can sleep there. We’ll watch that movie you like so much that your sister hates…” You sniff, nodding and he kisses the crown of your head before you pull back, and he leads you to the couch. Not even ten minutes later he’s stretched across the old couch, you nestled half on top of him, half between him and the back of the couch, the intro of The Last Unicorn playing on the TV. You normally don’t use a blanket on the couch, not unless you’re upset, so it’s wrapped around you, tucked under your chin.

“How did you know to come?”

“Huh?”

“Why did you come here?”

“Oh. (S/N) was freaking out because you weren’t answer any texts or video galls, and your phone was going straight to voicemail. I texted her that you broke your phone and that she doesn’t need to come home.” Like it feels left out, his phone buzzes, and he shifts to grab it from the coffee table. You sneakily glance and see that it’s from San.

🐯: where you at??

He just puts the phone down, but it buzzes not even a minute later.

🐯: is (Y/N) ok, or do I need to send Becca home and come over?

“You better not fucking come here.” Wooyoung huffs quietly, managing to use one hand and reply.

🦊: She’s fine now. Leave us alone.

“That’s harsh.”

“He broke your heart; I should be much worse.” He clicks his tongue, picking his phone up when it buzzes again on his stomach.

🐯: wtf you good? Are you mad?

“Yeah, I’m fucking pissed.”

“He’s calling.” You mumble, looking at his screen while he looks at the TV, trying to think of what to say. He angrily slides at the answer button, having to do it a second time for it to work.

“What?!” He nearly shouts into the phone, his even-louder-than-normal voice sharp in your ear.

“Sorry, sweetheart.” Wooyoung brushes over your hair, “What?”

“Woah, dude, are you sure you’re okay?”

“What. Do. You. Want?”

“Woo.” You scold, and that seems to make him even more mad.

“Is she okay?!” San must’ve not heard…

“Yes, you stupid- She’s fine. What do you want?”

“Can I talk to her?”

“No, you can’t.”

“What? Why?”

“Just go…hang out with or in Becca or whatever-“ You smack his chest and he yipes.

“Did you make her upset; did you guys get into a fight?”

“No-“

“I’m coming over-“

“Damnit, no!”

“I don’t see why you fucking care, Choi San.” Something snaps in you, your last vestiges of rationale fizzling out. Wooyoung chokes around a laugh, quickly putting the call on speaker.

“N-(Y/N)?” He sounds like a whimpering puppy.

“Why are you trying to stuck up for me or defend me?”

“Y-you’re…you’re like my sister-“ Your fingers dig into Wooyoung’s shirt so hard, you scratched the skin underneath some, and you sit up, grabbing the phone.

“You know why I’m not okay? Huh? I found out my mom’s alive but doesn’t remember me or my sister. My dad is dead. I couldn’t get my favorite butter chicken, and the guy I like is at his place sucking face with some chick who looks like she can’t do basic addition. So, fuck off, San.” You hang up and slide Wooyoung’s phone away, so it lands on the coffee table, sliding just a bit further past where it lands. Huffing, you lay back down onto your other friend and continue to watch the movie. You both try to focus, but after a few minutes, you both burst into laughter, and it’s a good five minutes before you can fully calm down.

“I’m so fucking tired.” You rest your hand over your eyes, wedged between Wooyoung and the couch and he turns toward you, blocking your view of the TV.

“Do you feel better though?” He brushes your hair off your face, and you nod, nestling into the crook of his neck.

“Just sleep, sweetheart.” Wooyoung presses another kiss to your forehead, and you can’t help but listen.

~ųƐų~

You wake up sore, not sure if it’s from sleeping on your shitty couch or from the destruction you had wrecked on your apartment the night before. Wooyoung is still asleep, curled around you, and still so, so pretty. You assume he thinks that if you waited, you’d realize you’re just wanting him for comfort, not because you like him back. But, after sleeping on it, you aren’t so sure. Before, you really didn’t know if you like him back or not, but as you watch him sleep (feeling a bit creepy honestly) you think about it. When you first became friends, you had a pretty big crush on him. The closer you got, the more it seemed he got on your nerves, and he was just annoying and immature. But after graduating, you got much closer; he really is your best friend. You’re genuinely closer with Wooyoung than San, but you almost always hang out as the three of you. Could you have liked both, but chose San because you didn’t want to admit you’ve liked Wooyoung the entire time you’ve known him? Did he annoy you so much because you have feelings for him like some elementary age boy who pulls a girl’s hair, and says he hates her? Gently, so as not to wake him, you cup his jaw with your hands much like he had the day prior to you.

“Be careful, sweetheart.” He echoes the same words from the day before, not even opening his eyes.

“Why?” His eyes finally open, the intensity in his gaze taking your breath away. Wooyoung scoots an inch closer, pressing you further into the back cushions, his knee wedging between your legs. You gasp when he presses closer, finally feeling him against you.

“If you let me kiss you, I won’t stop there.” His lips hover over yours, tongue flicking out and running over your bottom lip as well as his.

“Then don’t.”

“(Y/N)-“

“I’m sure, Wooyoung. I thought about it, and yes, I have…had a crush on San. But that’s what it is, like a school crush. You’re right that I was stupid. I don’t love you because you’re my best friend, you’re my best friend because I love you. I’m in love with you.” Normally such flowery words make you cringe, but yours are genuine. He breathes out hard with his nose, brow furrowing, eyes flitting away from yours, down to your lips.

“That was part of the reason I was so upset last night. Yes, I felt heartbroken from seeing San with that girl, but I also felt horrible, because I wasn’t nearly as upset as I thought I’d be. I was just glad it wasn’t you with some bleach blonde bitch. After I found out about my mother…I was really glad you came over and not San.” Wooyoung can’t hold a giggle back, trying to keep his face serious, but he can’t.

“And I’m glad my sister called you, that you came.” You smile purely, but his turns into a smirk, the arm not under your head curling around you. You gasp when he slides the last little bit closer, hitching your leg over his hips and grinding his hardening cock into you.

“You have ten seconds to tell me to get off, otherwise I’m fucking you stupid on this couch.” You whimper at his words, hands leaving his face and resting on his shoulders. You buck your hips, causing him to let out a soft grunt.

“Stupid, huh?” You smirk back and you squeak when he rolls on top of you, soft lips capturing your chapped ones. The kiss isn’t gentle, his tongue quickly invading your mouth, tasting every inch of your tongue, his strong thigh hitching hard against your mound. Sneaky hands sneak under the waist band of your shorts, fingers pressing hard into the flesh of your ass, pulling you up against him, feeling the outline of his dick against your tummy. Wooyoung pulls back from the kiss, letting you catch your breath, a trail of saliva dripping down your chin. He kneels over you, pulling his shirt off and chucking it across the room. You whimper, your won sneaky hands stroking over the skin of his chest and abs, when did he get so built?

“Up.” He orders, and you sit up just enough for him to pull your shirt off, along with your sports bra underneath.

“Fuck~!” You twitch as those sinful lips wrap around your nipple, teeth nibbling the peak before moving to the next, then up. Finally, his trail of kisses stop at your throat, and he sucks your skin between his teeth there. It’s too high to hide, and he works the skin nearly raw, leaving a large purple welt on your jaw.

“Ah!” You jerk under him when his hand dives under your shorts and panties, two fingers swiping through the slick of your folds.

“You’re already this wet for me, sweetheart?” Wooyoung chuckles in your ear, those two fingers not hesitating to plunge into you. The sudden intrusion takes your breath away, the slight burn leaves your head swimming. He only pumps the digits maybe twice before retracting his hand, and instead shoves his fingers in his own mouth.

“Oh, fuck~” He groans, climbing off of you, then shoves you up the rest of the way on the couch, landing on it with his stomach. Your shorts and pants fly through the air, joining the rest of your clothes and he throws your legs over his shoulders. Your skin feels like it catches on fire when his tongue wastes no time in wiggling inside your cunt. It’s long and he knows how to work it, his nose brushing your clit as he drank from you like a thirsty dog.

“Woo-Wooyoung, god~!” Your breath hitches, legs twitching around his head, that deft tongue leaving your core to circle your clit, those two fingers sinking into your heat once more. He pulls back, licking his lips, spread into a sinful grin.

“You taste so fucking good, sweetheart~” He groans, crooking his fingers up hard, battering your weak spot.

“W-w-wait!” Your orgasm is coming on fast, and his fingers keep up their antics as he lays over you again, nose nuzzling behind your ear.

“Cum for me, princess.” He licks over the crest of your ear, and he chuckles breathily as your cunt clenches and spasms around his fingers, their wiggling spurring your orgasm along. You shudder and heave as he pulls them out, and you flinch when the slick pad of his index finger lowers, swirling over your pucker.

“Huh?” Your back arches from the odd sensation, but he doesn’t go further than a few teasing brushes.

“Maybe later, I want to taste all of you. And I want to fuck you full of my cum there too.” He sinks his teeth into your earlobe, and you turn your head to the side submissively, whimpering.

“Oh, you’re a good girl, huh?” His teeth scrape along the column of your exposed throat, your head twists more to give him better access.

“Fuck, you’re gonna feel so good on my cock, princess.” Wooyoung groans, scattering kisses over your neck, shoulders and throat as he wiggles to get his pants and boxers off. Hauling you back down the couch, he easily grabs your thighs to lead you to wrap them around his middle. You sigh, feeling the heat of his hard cock sliding through your folds, heading swimming as the fat head prods your entrances, then slides up.

“Wooyoung, please~!” You whimper, wanting him to sear through you, craving the burning sting.

“You wanna know something, sunshine?”

“What?” He chuckles at your slightly slurred speech.

“I plan on railing you so hard you don’t even remember who San is.” He hums and you can’t brace for his entrance, his fat cock filling you with a hard snap of his hips. Your back arches, breath forced out of you, chipped fingernails digging crescents into his back. Your mouth hangs open in a silent scream, gummy walls spasming and fluttering around his cock, somehow the pain of him gouging into you threw you over the edge so quickly it makes your clit sting too.

“God, fuck, Wooyoung!” You finally catch your breath enough to speak and he groans long and deep.

“You’re so fucking perfect, (Y/N). Oh, sweetheart, you’re made for me~!” He groans a laugh, fading into a whine as the clenches fade with your orgasm. You feel like a truck hit you, vision blurry, lower half protesting at Wooyoung’s brutal entrance, but you love it. Your hips jump again, cunt sucking him in further when he sits up more, pinning one of your knees to your shoulder, holding the other at his waist.

“Look at your cute little pussy struggling to take me, huh?” He loves the sight of your tight core weeping around his sock, slick shining along his flesh and both of your inner thighs.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, sweetheart~” He giggles, and your fingers gouge lines down the skin of his back as he starts, pace immediately relentless, battering your cervix with the head of his dick. The hand at your thigh holds it to his left side, sliding down your body and gripping your ass.

“Hm, you like it, pretty girl? Like my fat cock?”

“Fuck, yes, Woo~” Your breath heaves, and you let out a delirious giggle, gasping and whining hard as his rapid pace barrels you through your third orgasm. Your cunt stings, but it’s so good. You squeal when his hand leaves your butt, only to slap the skin hard, the sting travelling up your hip and into your thigh. He feels your walls grip him harder at the spank, so he does it again, harder.

“Oh, shit-!” Your head lolls against the couch cushion, face and neck flushed, heaving for air. Your nails claw down his chest to his stomach and he licks his lips at the sting.

“(Y/N), you’re such a good girl, yeah? My good girl~”

“Y-yours~!”

“Yes, sweetheart. All mine, oh, you’re doing so good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, princess. This pussy’s so good too, welcoming my cock home?”

“Yeah~!” You giggle, dumb on his cock and he hasn’t even cum once yet.

“Aw, love, can I cum inside? You on the pill, yeah? Let me paint you white, huh? Fuck you full of my cum, then flip you over and give you more?” He’s laughing every few words, sounding a bit delirious himself. He’s wanted to have you like this for so long, and he’s going to fuck you on every surface in the place if he can.

“P-please~!”

“Okay, I’m gonna then-“ Wooyoung hums, it fading into a groan, then with a few more stuttering thrusts, you feel heat blossom in your lower stomach. His cock pulses as rope after rope of hot jizz fills you, a few drops leaking from where he splits you open, leaving a mess on the couch. Your body jerks as his orgasm fades, you almost black out from your own. Your clit is throbbing, folds swollen and red, but he’s still painfully hard…

~

“Hold on here.” Wooyoung moves your hands to the mount of the shower head, and you wrap your fingers around the metal pipe. Your toes curl as he enters you again, hot water hitting his back and dripping off of him onto you. Drops of cum hit the shower floor along with the water and he starts to pound into you again. The water makes the slaps of the skin of his pelvis against your butt and thighs all the louder, nearly muffling your soft whimpers and mewls. Your ass is red, covered in hand-shaped welts, thighs littered with hickeys and kiss-marks. His back, chest, and stomach are covered in scratches, a bite-mark etched into his shoulder and a single hickey clings to his jawline. You aren’t sure how long it’s been since he first got inside you, but it has to have been hours ago. You have no idea where his stamina has come from, and your once burning cunt has more or less numbed to the sting of overstimulation, tiny orgasms shattering through you without warning or reason. You feel the wets strands of his hair on your shoulders as he leans over you, hand cupping the underside of your breast, the other over your hands on the shower mount.

“Fuck, (Y/N), I love you. I love you so much.” He kisses your shoulder, avoiding a sore-looking mark he’d left.

“I-I love you t-t-too, Wooyoung-!” You heave for air as another tiny climax shivers through you.

“Breathe baby, you gotta pace yourself, I still gotta fuck you stupid~” Wooyoung giggles and you just squeak and mewl, since he already has.

Master-List

[theonlyhonoredone]

Break My Heart Again

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Reader

Warnings: cannon typical violence, blood, death, fighting, love triangle

Summary: A romantic rivalry drives a wedge between you and Suguru

Masterlist

On the first day of your second year at Jujutsu High you noticed an instant change in Suguru. He had been happy until Satoru arrived, the white haired boy was late as always, but came running right away to greet everyone. He’d come up to you first, wrapping you in his long arms and telling you how he’d hoped you’d finally become half as strong as him this year. While you rolled your eyes and told him you hoped he’d become less annoying, Suguru had set his eyes to a narrow glare. He’d come to you that evening and told you he didn’t like how close you and Satoru were. 

“He’s too cruel to be friends with you,” he began, “He’ll hurt your feelings and you’ll only prevent him from progressing as quickly as he could.”

The remarks were odd and hurtful. All of you were close, in fact Suguru had been your first friend at the school. Over the summer he’d been busy with familial obligations and wasn’t able to keep in contact as you, Satoru, and Shoko were. Of course you’d all grown closer over summer and you wondered if he’d become jealous or felt left behind. You tried your best to offer him some comfort, telling him that you were all still good friends and you were looking forward to catching up with him.

“It’s not about that,” he scoffed at you, “I just think you need to get over your ridiculous crush on him, and you both need to focus on sorcery.”

It was hurtful again and you chose to leave it alone after that. He was strange and aloof to you for days and at the end of the first week he requested you stop calling him Suguru and use the more formal Geto instead. You considered it the end of your friendship. You had spoken to both Shoko and Satoru about it, asking them if he’d told them about his sudden disdain for you. Satoru had gotten upset and called him a jerk before going to talk to him, despite your objections. It was then when Shoko revealed her theory on the matter.

“Suguru has a crush on Satoru,” she had told you in a hushed tone, “It’s obvious. He already knows you liked him so you know, your romantic rivals.”

Your cheeks had flushed, “Why wouldn’t you just talk to me then? I-I don’t want to not be friends just because we like the same guy.”

She shrugged in response and you left the conversation at that. You never brought it up to Suguru, hoping that it would blow over in due time. School brought a more normal rhythm to your lives. Suguru and Satoru were always training together, it made them closer and stronger. Shoko would work on her medical training and you were doing your best to meet the boys level. The gap between you three grew exponentially that year. You weren’t weak by any means, but they were on another level. You’d spar with them as frequently as you could, always pushing yourself to get stronger and stronger. 

Satoru was helpful, he tried his best to help you perfect your use of basic sorcery techniques, which in turn helped you to refine your own technique. He often taunted you still and called you weak, but you always knew it was in jest. Suguru on the other hand was more cruel. If you were set to spar he’d show no mercy, hitting you with more powerful curses or techniques far out of your grasp. In hand to hand combat he was unrelenting too, and he seemed to relish in your constant losses. You confirmed his resentment must be jealousy as he always was harder on you after you’d spent time with Satoru alone. 

After a particularly rough mission for you he’d taunted you for getting so beat up and it’d cause a fight between him and Satoru. Satoru had claimed he didn’t need to be so mean since you’d already gotten hurt. Suguru accused him of being soft on you and with pink cheeks Satoru had yelled back that he wasn’t soft on you he just cared about his friends. That had really angered Suguru, who ended up scoffing and leaving you two alone in the infirmary. Later he’d come to speak to you alone and told you that Satoru only liked you because you were dependent on him and it made him feel special. In his words Satoru cared about attention, not you, since you could never make it to their level.

For you it was the final straw, already beaten up and exhausted you’d finally snapped and yelled at him. “Shut up!” you’d cut him off mid sentence, your whole face burning as you screamed, “Just shut up okay?! I don’t care what you think Geto! I don’t care if I’m weak or pathetic or anything else because at least I’m not half as insecure as you!”

His eyes had widened before quickly turning to a glare. He had clenched his fists before leaving the room in silence. It felt good to yell back at him, but you stopped speaking entirely after that. You avoided each other and your other friends danced between the two of you. It continued like that until the spring, when the boys got assigned to some special secret mission which they’d be gone for a while working on. Suguru said nothing about it but Satoru of course had to brag about how this important mission had been entrusted to them, but especially him since he was the strongest. You’d told him you were happy for him but really you were worried.

You were scared for them both, and you were scared that you’d be left in the dust as they got assigned to harder and harder missions. That same evening you’d decided to take a walk to ease your anxiety. You paced all around the school grounds as you tried to reason with yourself. Of course you’d never grow to their strength, they were special grades after all, blessed from birth. You’d hoped to reach first grade already though, to at least be close to keeping up with them. As much as you tried not to let it get to you, you did often think about Suguru’s words, claiming you were too weak for Satoru.

You hated that some silly romantic rivalry had come between you and your friend, but you did really care about Satoru. Loved him even. He admired strength and you so badly wanted to be admired by him. Admired and loved, to have him see you in the same heavenly light you saw him. The friendship you shared was wonderful and you treasured it, but you wanted more than that. You hoped it would fade with time but really your feelings only grew stronger. Longing glances and daydreams were the only hopes you had of furthering your relationship with the man you’d consider your closest friend. 

With an unhappy pit in your stomach you finally decided to return to your room. The walk hadn’t helped much so you now hoped that sleep would wash away your unease and you’d wake up with a brighter outlook. As you entered the dorms you were shocked to find Satoru was seated in the day room, staring out the window with his head propped up on his hand. He was half asleep, droopy eyes turning to you as you entered the room.

He frowned as he spoke, “What are you doing up? It’s nearly 2.”

“I could ask you the same thing,” you cast your gaze away from him, hoping not to give up that you’d been crying just minutes earlier, “I was just on a walk, my room was getting really stuffy.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” he confessed. “Thinking about your big mission?”

He nodded as he tried to catch your flighty gaze, “You wanna come sit for a minute? Maybe you can help me get my mind off it.”

Of course you had to comply so you nodded and came to sit beside him on the couch, “I’ve never seen you nervous Satoru.”

“I’m not, just sort of ansty,” he explained with a wave of his hand. He was finally able to lock his eyes with yours and it only took him a moment to realize something was wrong, “You’re upset,” he stated it as a fact, leaving no room for you to argue, “What happened?”

“It’s not fair to use your technique on me,” you attempted to change the subject.

“I didn’t,” he’d turned to fully face you, “I don’t need to, I know how to read you without it. So what’s going on?”

“It’s nothing Satoru, don’t worry about me,” you brushed him off hoping he would just forget it, but of course he always pushed until he got his way.

“Ah, I always worry about you,” he tossed an arm over your shoulders and leaned back on the couch, “It’s my job as the strongest you know? I got to worry about the weaklings under me.”

Normally his jokes didn’t bug you and you’d jab right back at him but you were already fragile. You felt your eyes burning again and your lip started to tremble. You attempted to quickly get yourself under control but a small sniffle was enough to alert him to your state. “H-Hey! I didn’t mean to make you cry! I’m just kidding, you know?” he tried to comfort as his cheeks started turning pink.

You shook your head at him, “I-It’s not you Satoru I just…” you trailed off, “I’m tired of being weak.”

His lips tugged down to a frown as he searched for some way to comfort you. The truth was he hated to see you cry, more than anything. It made his stomach churn and filled him with anger. He’d only see you cry a few times but it was the same every time.

“You aren’t weak,” he grabbed one of your hands, “I-I mean compared to me, sure, but you’re really strong compared to most people. Plus you’re working everyday to get stronger, you don’t need to be so hard on yourself.”

“I hate that I’m weak to you!” you exclaimed suddenly as the tear grew more violent, “I don’t want you to see me as weak Satoru! That’s all I care about.”

“I-I don’t I-”

“You do! I-I want to be just as strong as you, and Suguru. I don’t want to be dependent on you! I want you to like me for more than just that…”

He tensed, the gears in his head turning before he spoke softly, “You think I only like you because you’re dependent on me?”

You sniffled again and nodded, “Yes, I mean, sometimes, no, fuck, I don’t know. I just want you to see me as an equal. I don’t want to be nobody.”

“You aren’t,” he said firmly, “If I ever don’t think we’re equal it’s because I think you’re better than me.”

You laughed bitterly, “Be serious Satoru.”

“I am! Look physically I’m stronger for sure, but you’re way nicer than me, and funnier too!” he exclaimed suddenly, “And you’re way better at claw machines! Remember you won me that big dog I wanted! I sleep with it every night!”

You laughed again, a weird sad laugh that was full of tears, “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“It means a lot to me,” he promised, “If you were a stronger sorcerer than me I’d have nothing going for me, except maybe my good looks.”

“Shut up,” the tears were beginning to melt into regular laughter at each remark.

“And I guess I’m pretty good at stopping you from crying too,” he grinned wide, “Look I get it if you’re down about not getting stronger faster, but if it helps I really don’t think of you as weak. I know you’re weaker than me, but I kind of like that because it means I can protect you, and I want to protect you, and everyone else too. It makes me really happy knowing that I can keep you safe. I mean it’s a lot of pressure sometimes but when I just think about doing all this hard stuff so you don’t have too then I’m really happy, and I don’t mind so much.”

Finally your tears had stopped, so he wiped your tear stained cheeks as you looked up at him, “I just wish I could be there with you Satoru, then I could help protect you too.”

“It wouldn’t work then though, we’d be too worried about each other,” he leaned in and pressed his lips to your forehead. It was a simple gesture, meant to be comforting and sweet. He’d never done it before though. Usually when he imagined kissing you it was on the lips, but this was nice too.

You leaned into him, burying your face in his chest, “Thank you Satoru.”

“Yeah, no problem,” he wrapped his arms around you and rested his head on top of yours. 

You sat there on the small couch, holding each other until the sun came up. At that point you both scurried off to your bedrooms to try and catch a few hours of sleep while you still could. Later Satoru had to leave for his special mission and you had to return to normal classes and training. 

While Satoru was gone he sent some photos at different locations and small updates, always assuring you all was well. You did the same, giving him updates on the antics at the school and sending him a few pictures you found funny, always wishing him good luck. You hoped he’d be back soon.

Unfortunately his arrival home was anything but pleasant. The school was attacked, the young star vessel was killed, and Satoru was nearly killed as well. Having just escaped death he ran after the assailant in what you could only describe as a temporary bout of psychosis. Luckily he had calmed somewhat by the time he got back, he was taken into medical care alongside a totally distraught Suguru. Shoko and you worried for both of them but in the coming weeks they seemed to return to semi-normal. Suguru still seemed off, but he’d ceased his constant teasing and you thanked the universe that the whole thing had bruised his ego enough to grant you some peace. The only other good thing to come from the event was Satoru’s new ability to use the reverse curse technique. He told you all excitedly about how this had greatly enhanced his abilities, making him even stronger than before. He’d moved far beyond being the strongest, he was now some god untouchable to the rest of you mere mortals. Even Suguru seemed weak next to him now.

Satoru began taking on more and more missions alone, no longer needing any sort of assistance for even the toughest of cases. It made you a bit smug, seeing Suguru left reeling in his dust the same you you had always been. Sure Suguru had stopped his teasing but you still thought he deserved to feel some of the misery and insecurity he’d inflicted on you. It helped that Satoru never seemed to have the time to comfort him either when he was around, opting instead for more fun activities that Suguru often decided to stay home from. One of Satoru’s best suggestions had been that you all go to an amusement park together, Suguru claimed he needed to rest but you and Shoko had gone. Satoru promised there would be no use of curse energy as you all attempted to best each other at carnival games and dared each other onto increasingly scary rides. It was one of the best days you could remember having, topped off by a delicious dinner on Satoru.

When you returned home you’d all split off, with you opting to take a long shower before you headed for bed. You replayed the happy memories as you readied yourself, smiling wide as you left the bathroom, only to collide with a wall of a man. Suguru stepped back without an apology, eyeing you up and down before pursing his lips.

“Have fun?” he asked.

You’d been on more friendly terms lately but you couldn’t help being constantly suspicious. Waiting for him to make the same 180 he had at the beginning of the year as soon as he was out of his slump. 

“Yeah, it was great,” you smiled brightly at him.

He looked terrible. Bags under his eyes and his hair grown out. He seemed like he hadn’t slept in weeks. You’d noticed he seemed to slump over now, not glare down at you the way he had for months.

“I ran into Yuki today,” he began, “The special grade.”

Your eyes widened just a bit. No one ever heard from her as far as you were aware.

“Wow, that’s like spotting bigfoot or something,” you tried to joke, “Did you get to talk?”

He nodded, “Yeah, we talked for a while, it was nice. It made me think a lot.”

You studied him, tempted to make some snide remark, “Good, you’ve seemed down. Hopefully it brought you some peace.”

“It did, I feel a lot better. I’m glad I ran into you actually, I have to leave for a mission tonight. I wanted to tell you I don’t think we’re enemies anymore,” he leaned on the wall beside him, “So I forgive you.”

Something twisted in your stomach and you narrowed your eyes at him, “You forgive me? What the hell would I need to be forgiven for? You’re the one who’s been a dick to me all year.”

“I’m forgiving you for being my enemy.”

“I was only your enemy because you decided I was! I never wanted to have some stupid rivalry with you!” you snapped at him, “You should be asking me for forgiveness if anything!”

“I don’t need it,” he waved his hand dismissively, “I just realized there’s things I care more about than our romantic rivalry. Satoru would never make a choice anyway, so it’s always been up to us to make that choice.”

“He would choose me,” you weren’t sure about it at all, but you wanted so badly to hurt him, to have the power over him just this once, “I would win, Suguru.”

He grabbed your chin between his thumb and index finger. The gesture was intimate and startling. “You sound so confident but you’re trembling you know? It’s a shame things went so bad between us.”

Before you could snap back that it was his fault his lips were pressed against yours. The shocked sound you made was muffled by his lips pressing hard against yours. Something about it was all sour and wrong. You shoved him off of you as soon as your mind processed what was happening. He smirked at you and slapped him as hard as you could, leaving a big red splotch on his pale cheek. He started to laugh.

“Fuck you!” you yelled at him, “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“Can you two keep it down?” Satoru sighed as he peaked out of his bedroom door, his arms crossed like a disappointed parent, “I’m trying to catch up on my manga. I thought you two were done with all the fighting anyway.”

“He kissed me!” you yelled as the taller man smirked at both of you.

Satoru’s eyes widened, glowing a bright blue in the nearly pitch black hall, “He what?”

“It was a friendly peck,” Suguru just kept smirking, like he’d finally won the battle between you two.

“It was not! I would never, ever in a million years want to kiss you!”

“What the fuck Suguru!” Satoru had shoved him a few paces back from you, acting as a wall between you, “You can’t-” he paused as he examined his best friend's face, “You can’t kiss people without their permission!”

Suguru shrugged, “I thought she wanted to. My mistake, we can talk about it when I get back from my mission.”

He had spun on his heels and made a quick return to his room. Satoru muttered, “What the fuck?” before turning back to you, “Are you alright?”

You nodded, “Yeah, he’s just being a jackass, nothing new.”

“I’ll talk to him,” he promised, “I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, “You don’t need to apologize for him Satoru. I’m fine really, he’s just picking on me again. Don’t worry about it.”

“Well I don’t like it when he does that,” Satoru frowned at you and offered you his hand, “Here, I can walk you back to yours if you want, I’m sorry that happened.”

“I’m okay,” you took his hand, so big it nearly engulfed yours entirely, “Thank you Satoru.”

“Yeah, anything for you.”

Suguru had left sometime in the middle of the night. It was the middle of the day before you found out exactly where he had gone. Run off to slaughter his entire home town. Sure he was a jerk to you, but you’d never imagine he would be capable of something like that. It made you feel sick, knowing you’d been beside someone so evil for so long. Knowing he’d kissed you just before he.

You felt even worse for Satoru, who would most likely end up having to be the one to kill him. There weren't a lot of people strong enough to do the job. Satoru had cried on the school steps after he found out. You did your best to provide comfort and let him sob into your neck. You both talked for hours about how you couldn't imagine him doing something like this, about how upset you were for not following him after his odd behavior the night before. It felt suddenly like you were responsible for not stopping him, even though no one ever would have guessed he was capable of what he did. 

The next week passed in silence. No one wanted to discuss what happened. You all buried yourselves in training, attempting to push down your emotions around the event. Satoru and you had begun sharing a bed. You had nightmares about that night that made it hard to sleep. Satoru wasn’t sleeping at all, but he’d let you lay on his chest and hold you while he did. He stayed up most nights just thinking and replaying events over and over in his mind. He found holding you brought him a lot of peace. He could run through all the ‘what if's' of that night, questioning if Suguru would have hurt you if he hadn’t heard you two fighting, but that didn’t change the fact that you were right there in his arms. You were safe as long as he was holding you. He’d lost half his soul already and he couldn’t bear to lose the other. 

It was exactly one week after Suguru’s attack that Yaga had approached Satoru for a mission. Satoru may have been grieving but he was still the strongest, there were still things only he could take care of. So he was sent out to the outskirts of Tokyo to get back to work. He was a bit worried about leaving the school, worried Suguru might be planning to attack it next. Yaga had assured him the school was perfectly safe against him. You had encouraged him to take the mission as well, thinking that getting back to work might help him blow off some steam and ease his anger. 

Satoru had still seemed a bit antsy when he left so you wanted to do something nice for him. You’d gone to the city, not far from the school, to retrieve some baked goods from a favorite shop of his. It was a quick errand you thought nothing of until you spotted a familiar head of black hair outside the shop. Your eyes widened and you debated who to call but before you could even reach for your phone he was waving to you.

He cocked his head and smiled at you the same way he had when you first met, “Hey!” He seemed more friendly and happy than he had all year, “You don’t have to look so scared, I don���t bite sorcerers you know?”

“What are you doing here?” you questioned.

“Satoru’s favorite, right?” he nodded towards the shop, “Picking something up?”

“What are you doing here?” you repeated.

“I wanted to talk,” he shoved his hands into the pockets of his baggy sweats, “Can you take a few minutes for an old friend?”

Satoru had taken care of his mission rather quickly. You had been right, it helped alleviate some of his stress, but it quickly returned as soon as he checked his phone.

‘Let’s meet up. That bakery with the giant cakes? See you soon - S.G’

It wasn’t an alarming text per say, but the fact that Suguru was showing face again was. Satoru was sure he knew he had a death sentence, and sure he knew Satoru was supposed to take him out. He was also sure Suguru wouldn’t put himself in danger without a plan. Probably why he wanted to meet among civilians. Fearing another slaughter fest Satoru opted not to contact anyone else and rush right to the scene. He picked up on Suguru’s curse energy as soon as he got close, but more alarming than that he detected your energy as well. Satoru assumed he was going to attempt to take you hostage, probably having sent you a similar text to lure you out.

“Satoru! Yo!” Suguru waved to him as soon as he turned the corner to the bakery.

The whole street was empty. Suguru’s body was splattered with blood. He sat smiling and waving with a knife in one hand. A cursed tool Satoru recognized instantly. 

“Suguru what the he-” before he could finish he spotted you. 

You laid limp on the ground under Suguru, your eyes were still open but there was nothing behind them. Your lips were starting to tint purple, your whole body was totally limp. Suguru sat on top of you, it was obvious what had happened, what he had done. Satoru was in shock, only able to stare as his mind reeled.

“I don’t want to hurt sorcerers,” Suguru wiped his hands on his sweats as he stood, “But there’s always exceptions right? One day you’ll probably thank me for how much stronger this makes you.”

He knew he should attack Suguru, that he should stop him and kill him right there. He wanted to, it was the first moment he could actually picture himself murdering his best friend. Instead he paced towards you, quite slowly, as if he might startle you.. He bent down beside Suguru and placed his hand on your neck, looking for a pulse. There was nothing though, you were cold and covered in your own blood. Satoru felt nauseous, his ears were ringing, his eyes were burning. He felt as if there was nothing else in the world but you for a moment. He imagined some way to heal you even though you were gone. Killed by a cursed tool to make sure there was no way to come back. Suguru had taken every precaution.

“I’ll kill you,” he muttered softly, “I’ll kill you, Suguru.”

Suguru was gone already, fleeing before Satoru could get his bearings. Instead of chasing him, Satoru laid down beside you. He pulled you onto his chest and wrapped his arms around you. He squeezed you tight and wept silently until you were dragged away from him.

part 2

[daisyjonesgf]

the lakes (8) // finnick odair x f. reader

summary: it's supposed to be over, you and Finnick are supposed to spend the rest of your lives helping each other heal. living as peacefully as possible, but the the third quarter quell throws a wrench in your domestic bliss.

previous part / next part

masterlist

4.6k words

warnings: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, manipulation of someone's feelings, drinking away problems, mental illness, mentions of suicidal ideations, savior complex Finnick and reader, codependent relationship, allusions to trafficking and forced sexualization of body, mentions of death/violence happening to children, unedited, no use of y/n, arguments, self-hate, self-doubt, a love triangle that really isn't a love triangle

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

“Oh, you look so beautiful." Cambrie was crying, actually crying. Standing behind you in the mirror, staring the the gorgeous dress she'd designed. You wanted to cry too because even if she'd always treated you more like a doll than a living, breathing person it did hurt to know you'd never see her familiar presence again. 

“You did an amazing job, Cambrie, it reminds me of home." Truthfully the dresses shimmery deep blue did make you think of the waters of home and the seaweed and pearl based jewelry was a nice touch. Of course it was a too low cut for your liking and regardless of the colors would be completely translucent if the light hit it right, it was stunning.

“You really think so?" Her eyes were full of tears and you nodded your head turning to hug her.

“Yes, thank you." It pained you too think about how even if she never treated you fully human she would still be deeply hurt by your death. Her favorite muse.

“I don't know who I'm going to model my designs off of anymore, unless you come back or course, but you make it so easy." Of course she had ulterior motives, but it was somewhat amusing to hear her problems when yours were so much more lethal. She pulled away from you, “I wanted to go more bridal, but President Snow wanted Katniss wearing her wedding dress, so we're going to go for the more subtle route.”

It wasn't subtle in the slightest, a similarly shimmering, translucent veil was in your hair although not covering your face and adorned with sea thrift. Your arms had bouquet-like bracelets of yarrow, lavender, and sea oats from your shoulders down to your wrists. Then there were the sandals covered in pearls and seashells, if it hadn't been purposefully forced to be more sensual you would have genuinely loved it. More of a “natural" makeup look had been preferred to create the essence of more of a sweet mermaid than a sultry, seductive siren.

Suddenly you could feel the tears threatening to pour over, “I wish you would have been able to just design my wedding dress with normal circumstances. Thank you for this.” 

"Oh you're such a sweetheart, I can't fathom how they could do this again to such a sweet girl. Everyone loves you, there's so much outrage. You'll certainly have lots of sponsors.” She cupped your face, shaking her head sadly. "We'd best be on our way.” She sighed, leading you out of the room for the last time.

There all the tributes stood waiting in their line, Katniss was already waiting in her wedding gown. She caught you staring at the dress, "Snow made me wear it.” 

"Make him pay for it.” Johanna remarked ok the side, in another one of the tree related get ups her designer has such an attachment too. She looked you up and down,"Even in death they just can't leave you alone?” It was true, you were basically naked if people were staring at the way the colors caught the light.

“Just making sure to squeeze out every last drop before I go." One last glance at the body they'd controlled before you took it back forever. Johanna scoffed.

“Make him pay for that too." You took your place in the line next to Finnick, whose shirt was heavily unbuttoned.

“Is this our own wedding get-up?" He asked, arm sliding around your waist. You hummed a yes as you pecked at his lips.

“Do you like it?" You asked, hand playing with his sleeve.

“You look stunning. Do you like it, would it be your top contender when I finally get you that real dress?" He asked, a loving grin adorning his face. 

“Maybe, if it wasn't so see-through. Reminds me of home though.” Finnick nodded in agreement.

“Look like you came straight from the moonlit waters, angel." You rested into his warm arms which were a godsend when the fabric did even less to protect you from the chill in the air. Cashmere and Gloss both proclaimed how difficult it would be to let go of their friends from the Capitol. How they were all like brothers and sisters to them, trying to further manipulate the audience's feelings into somehow getting them to prevent the games. Snow would never let that happen, but taking a shot at it couldn't hurt. Enobaria and Brutus both acted like it was a normal game, with just as much intensity as they had the first round. Wiress was rambling on and on, sometimes coherently, but the audience simply laughed like it were some huge joke about how unstable she was. Beetee’s rationalization took hold, talking about all he had done, all he'd offered to the Capitol, and questioned how legal this type of Quarter Quell was, couldn't it just be unwritten since it would have such a negative effect? Finnick rubbed circles on your arm as you nervously tapped your foot. “You've got this, my love." He reassured you as you were lead to wait off stage.

“Our very own Capitol Princess!” Caesar Flickerman’s voice blared and you put on your most charming smile to enter as he said your name. Waving at the audience, blowing kisses. The cheering soon calmed down and he turned to look at you, “Now, I think we're all a little bit upset with you and your husband. Aren't we?" The audience gave out enthusiastics agreements. 

“I'm sorry!" You giggled, breathily. “We didn't want to take away attention from the star-crossed lovers."

“Oh we have enough love for the both of you!" The audience cheered in agreement.

You looked out at the crowd, “And we love you! It breaks my heart to know we won't get to share our journey with you." The tears that wanted to spill about other things you willed to appear now.

“So a secret marriage? How did that come about?" Caesar asked after the ooh’s and aww’s had quieted.

“We just knew that if we were going to die in the arena, we needed to be one with each other, and the waters." The first tears began to roll, “Now that we know we can't ever again have those moments. Especially to share them all with you." You could vaguely see tears on obscured faces and you knew it was working. "We'd been quietly planning how we'd get engaged in front of all of you, but when the Quarter Quell announcement came it just couldn't wait. So now we can't do the dress, and the wedding, and the house decorating, and the kids with all of you.” Wiping away the tears falling down.

"We'll certainly mourn that just as much, won't we?” The crowd boomed with agreement and cries. "One more thing, last time you were here you were also going into the arena with a romance, now it's happening all over again, does that add to the emotions we’re feeling tonight? The idea that if you win you'll have lost another love?”

Your tears glistened under the lights as you nodded, "All I have to say about that Caesar is that I have no intentions of leaving that arena if I can't be with him. We are one and I couldn't bear to live my life without knowing I'd see him everyday. This hurts so bad because I know it'll be my last time seeing all of your kind faces.” By now the audience was sobbing and suddenly the tears began feeling real, creeping up on you.

Caesar nodded solemnly, “And we'll be sorry to see you go. Ever romantic, our Capitol Princess!" Tears were blinding you and it was difficult to find your way to the pedestals where the other tributes were standing. Suddenly your face was being held and honey tasting lips were on yours, Finnick. You could hear the audience cooing and crying, he wiped the tears once he pulled away and led you to where you needed to stand.

"Sorry, Ceaser I couldn't help myself." His warm voice filled the room, his gorgeous smile being zoomed in on by the cameras.

“Oh no worries! Making ever the entrance, Capitol darling Finnick Odair!" The audience let out a resounding cheer for him. “Finnick, can I be honest?"

“Of course, Caesar." That gorgeous, sunshine smile rested on his face and it was no wonder it left the Capitol citizens swooning for more.

“I don't know what we're going to do if you don't come back. Right?” The audience loudly agreed and Finnick chuckled. "I mean you've been such a favorite, both of you have, and the world will not be the same without it.” How ironic, if it would be so painful then they really should make more of an effort to put a stop to it, but they wouldn't.

"I'm very sorry about that Ceaser, but my hands are tied. If we could, we would spend every moment with all of you, we're so grateful for your love.” A bold-faced lie, every party to keep up appearances, each call from the Capitol was far more draining then just spending a peaceful day together which could be endless.

“We wish you could too. Being married in the arena, how's that going to work? I mean we've heard from her that there's no grand plan for her to come back, but I assume as the husband you might have something to say about that?" This elicited a laugh from the audience and Finnick nodded.

“Well certainly, Caesar, what kind of husband would I be if I let her have her way in that? I will say, my love, you have my heart for all eternity, and if I die in that arena, my last thought will be of your lips.” You were sick, honestly nauseated with grief. This was so unfair, you'd tried not to think about it, but in just over 12 hours you'd be forced back into the arena and risk losing each other.

"We wish you the best luck with that." People were weeping in the audience and Finnick's face had become so sober that it was jarring how naturally it fell back into an easy smile. “That's Finnick Odair, Capitol darling." Soon he was right beside you on the podium, kissing you again for the audience to be giddy with joy, but also hearts ruptured for the lovers torn apart for only the first time of the night. You could taste your salty tears mixing with the honeycomb of his lips before he pulled away, giving another grin to the audience.

His hand stayed intertwined with yours, but something wasn't quite right about his demeanor. Even if physically he kept up the same presence as always you could feel the shift in his aura, in his touch. He was upset, but not in the way you were. You couldn't stop yourself from continually glancing over at him, silently trying to get his attention so you could see what was wrong. Squeezing his hand with yours to try and get a response when he finally did meet your eyes it hit you that the look was disappointment, dread and when you shot a quizzical look back he looked like he was going to cry as he put his focus back on the stage.

You were stuck in your own head no, had it been something you said? Did? It was all for the performance which he had to know. Your foot was tapping and you were zoning out of the interviews until all the sudden the audience was shrieking. Katniss’ wedding dress disappeared in clouds of black smoke and when they disappeared the dress had transformed. Upon lifting her arms you could see what it was, a mockingjay. A public symbol of the rebellion, Caesar was trying to cover, but the cameras already would have caught it.

One more interview before the night would be over and you'd wait to be shipped back off to the arena where certain death awaited you. Charming Peeta insisted that he and Katniss too had a secret wedding to have the traditions of District 12. The audience ate each crumb he gave right out of his hands when suddenly he made the world stop, “If it weren't for the baby." Shock, outrage filled the room. All of these people who'd been fine watching children fight to the death and suffer after they won for personal entertainment couldn't stand the fact that Katniss could be pregnant. The irony of it all, how smart Peeta had been on his feet made it hard for you to suppress the smile. As Caesar desperately tried to do damage control once again you noticed how everyone of the tribute's hands began linking, placing your free hand in Beetee’s who bobbed his head before holding Wiress’. Hands joined, you lifted them above your head increasing the audience's screams and Caesar was yelling for lights to be turned off, all this did was illuminate your figures in the low lights. 

Then you were being filed off of the pedestals and to the hallway. You instantly met eyes with Haymitch, holding some glass filled with some type of drink. You didn't say a word to him before taking it from his hand to take a drink. 

“Dealing with pre-game jitters with alcohol really seems like a great idea." He said sardonically, scoffing. He didn't try and grab the drink back though even when you scowled at him. Right when you'd taken another drink of the bubbly liquid it was Finnick who took the drink from your hand, handing it back to Haymitch. "What? Trouble in paradise?” He took a drink too.

“Just need you to be rational instead of hungover in the morning.” Finnick muttered, he was angry at something, that much was obvious. 

Haymitch took something off of his wrist and handed it to Finnick, “Show her this and she'll realize I gave it to you, since she won't ally with you of her own accord." It was a gold bangle and Finnick nodded as he slid it on his wrist. They were whispering something to each other and you pulled away to an Avox holding a tray of more bubbly drinks nearby. Grabbing one you nodded a thank you, swallowing it down as fast as you could before Finnick had grabbed it again, looking at you sternly.

“I'm not going to be hungover.” You rolled your eyes and he handed the second, nearly empty glass to Haymitch as well.

"Well you don't exactly make great decisions for yourself.” You rolled your eyes at him as he ran his fingers through his curls.

"What's your problem? I made them sympathetic, I did what I was supposed to!” You couldn't fathom why that would upset him, it was a performance and he did the same thing.

"You have a death wish, that's the problem, I'm not letting you die for me!” You stared into his gorgeous sea-green eyes and scoffed before turning around to walk straight back to your floor.

"Thank you, Haymitch.” You heard Finnick say before he was following you to the elevator.

"You're really gonna argue with me about what I said in the interview right before we head back into the arena?" You pressed the cold buttons before crossing your arms, refusing to look at him.

“When this started I begged you to talk to me, to stop punishing yourself for whatever you did six years ago to survive, but you still are. You didn't say anything until right before we headed back into the arena, informing the world all about how you plan to die in there.” The elevator opened and he stepped in as you followed.

“I don't plan too, I just expect it. I'm not going to keep going if you die."

“Yes, you are, Annie needs you, Mags needs you." He pointed to the bangle quickly to put off anyone who could be listening in, “Needs you. This insistence that you're going to die is ridiculous, angel, I'm not going to let you.”

             𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You stood backstage with Conway, having to consciously force your leg to stay still, to not keep tapping as you waited to do on stage. The air was chilly which wasn't helped by the thin material of your dress, it's low-cut, or the huge slit in it's side at least Conway got to be in a suit. Your eyes were glued to the screen where the male tribute from District 3 had just begun his interview.

“Now, how old are you?" Caesar asked, the boy was small, he couldn't be that old, it looked like the seat was going to swallow him whole.

“Thirteen." His voice was shaky and your ears started ringing. How were you supposed to do this, that was a child, a tiny kid whose family was sitting back home watching their baby boy be shipped off to certain death. You could feel the tears approaching and your breathing getting more shallow. Cold hands were suddenly on yours.

“Are you okay?" Conway asked, as you began to hyperventilate.

“I can't do this." You whispered out as the first tears began falling, “That's a little boy, I can't-"

“I get it." Conway reassured, his big, brown eyes trying to comfort you. “You've got this though, you can't do anything about him being here, but you can make a good impression with the audience. We have to focus on that no matter how screwed up you feel like it is. Go up there and do what you have to do.” What you have to do, charm them, be sweet, and pretty, but a little mysterious. Finnick had all types of angles for you. You gave a final look back at Conway who tried to give a reassuring smile, but you could tell he was bothered too. Caesar's booming voice called your name and you stepped out into the bright lights of the stage. Beaming for the audience, waving, giggling at their cheers.

“I have to say, everyone was blown away with how charming you seemed at the tribute parade, but then that training score came out. How did you do that?" Caesar asked as the two of you sat down, the audience murmuring in agreement. 

“Well, Caesar, a lady has to have some secrets for herself." You made your laugh airy and winked at the laughing audience. “I have to save some things for the show, don't I?"

Caesar nodded, laughing along. "Of course! You know when I saw your face at the reaping I couldn't help but feel like I recognized you from somewhere, did anyone else feel that way?” The audience cheered out agreements and your stomach knotted. What was he talking about? You certainly didn't know how they knew you. "I mean this was literally keeping me up at night.”

You leaned forward, the dress putting a little too much on display, but you persisted. "Well do tell.”

"Months ago we were doing a catch up piece of Finnick Odair and you were in some of it, very briefly, but you were.” The audience was wild, they adored Finnick and loved any type of connection. Your stomach clenched, how were you supposed to seem in love with Conway when this was being chosen for you.

You blushed, “Oh yes, Caesar! I didn't imagine anyone would remember that!" 

"Well we did and we love it!” He proclaimed and the audience agreed. "So tell me, just between us-” The audience laughed and you did too. "Are you and a certain victor pining for your return to tell us all some very exciting news?” You shook your head slowly, trying not to look as embarrassed as you felt. “No? I don't believe that, look at you, charming and obviously extremely talented. There was definitely something going on when that program came out, not anymore?" Time was running out and this was not going the way you planned.

So new plan, “No, Ceasar.” Your voice was light and sounded shaky on purpose. You shook your head.

"Oh, so this is a tale of heartbreak?” He asked and the audience cooed. "Well if you win, he'll have to take you back won't he? I'm sure we won't let up until he does!” He laughed and the crowd seemed to agree with him. 

“I'm afraid it's much more complicated than that." You smoothed out your dress even if it needed no smoothing.

"Oh! Is there another man as well, we live for the drama!” You nodded slowly.

"Yes and I'm afraid winning won't help me in either case.” You were alluding and there was only a few seconds left. Caesar stood up.

"Well now you have to win this thing, so we can all know about this tale of romance. It's going to be keeping me on the edge of my seat!" 

“And I'd love to share it with all of you." You let a few tears fall as you blew a kiss out to the audience who adored it. The two of you bowed as you walked off the stage. Heart pounding rapidly as you were escorted out to the hall where Finnick, Ondine, and your designer Cambrie stood.

“Oh you looked divine!" Cambrie announced, hands on your shoulders. “All of my friends are going to want to sponsor you, I'm certain you'll be the talk of Panem, leaving us on a cliffhanger like that!" She was basically shrieking in joy when she got distracted by some hors d'oeuvres an Avox was holding.

You buried your head in your hands as Finnick approached, “I didn't know they were going to side swipe you like that. It could be good for your image though." You were now hyper aware of the eyes on the both of you even if technically he was your mentor just giving you advice.

“Could be bad for that, unless he picked up what I was putting down." You pointed at the screen where Conway sat with Caesar.

“So Conway, I'm sure all of us were very impressed by your training score, a big, strong man like you, what's your strategy?" Caesar asked and the audience made comments under their breath, acting as if they were also part of the conversation. 

“Let's just say I know what I'm up against and am confident in the people I've decided to trust." Looking at him made you see flashes of your childhood, of him crabbing with your family as kids, hair billowing in the wind as he made sure you didn't slip on the water covering the boat’s deck.

Caesar nodded, “Well alright, making us wait for tomorrow as well?"

Conway smiled that kind, loving smile he gave everyone, “I guess you could say that.”

"Now everyone is dying to know if you have a special girl back home, I mean you’re a good looking guy and even girls in the Capitol are swooning.”

"Well, it's a lot more complicated than that, Caesar.” Conway and his boyish charm was sure to bring in more sponsors as well. Caesar took a second, looking at Conway and the audience with as much drama as he could, like he was slowly connecting the dots.

“You're not saying what I think you're saying are you?" He asked and the crowd screamed in agreement, eating it up.

Conway adjusted his shirt collar, “Regretfully, I might be."

“Well isn't this straight out of a fairytale." A dark, corrupted one if that. “That sure complicates things doesn't it?"

Conway nodded, “Yes."

“You're certainly going to be keeping all of us on our toes, a love triangle. Well I certainly wish you the best of luck in your endeavors." Caesar laughed. What luck? Only one ‘choice’ would be alive if you won.

“Thank you, Caesar. All I can say is even if it's doomed, hopefully she doesn't pick the one who already broke her heart.” Even if it wasn't meant that way to you it felt threatening, hopefully you didn't or he'd be forced to kill you? You honestly had no idea what the best outcome was, maybe him asking you to take care of his family before sacrificing himself? But now you were overtly aware that you not only had him observing you, but all of Panem desperately wanting to know where you would land. 

            𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You were laying on the bed, hands covering your face as Finnick went on and on about how self-destructive you were. Maybe he was right, but you didn't see why it mattered. It's not like you were going to do anything intentional, you'd just do what you could to get Katniss out of the arena alive and be with Finnick.

“How are we supposed to do this if you don't believe you can survive?” He was pacing the room,"The moment that gong rings you need to come find me, I need my eyes on you.”

"I will, Finnick! But you need to focus on other things too.” You defended, sighing.

"How am I supposed to do that when the person I love the most is a danger to herself?” He stopped moving for a moment to stare at you, even with your face hidden in your hands you could feel his eyes burning into you.

You finally moved your hands,"I'm not! I just want to go to sleep, Finnick, can't we just rest?"

“We can sleep when I can rest well knowing you're not going to make impulsive decisions or give up if I get hurt. Don't be dependent on my life, angel, you deserve to live." You stood up only to walk to the open bathroom door and begin removing your makeup. 

“I don't know what you want me to say, Finnick." He followed you and stood behind you watching you in the mirror. You were passive to his pleas, you couldn't understand why it mattered so much to him. If he died it's not like he would know if you did too and if he lived there were plenty of other women who would be glad to comfort him, plus the revolution would keep him distracted.

There was a pause as you continued with your routine before he removed the bottle from your hands and turned you to face him, he'd always been much stronger than you and there was no use trying to release yourself. 

“That your life matters to you just as much as it does to me and I want you to believe it when you say it."

You sighed, “Finnick I will do whatever you tell me to do, I'll stay right by your side if you want me too. All I want is to be with you, that's all that matters to me."

He closed his eyes, exhaling shakily, “I can't believe I let us get so codependent." You watched a tear make its way down his cheek and felt you swarmed with guilt. “I can't make this better overnight no matter how badly I want to, but I do want you by me every second in that arena. Don't you dare go sacrificing yourself for someone, anyone. Angel, I can't live without you either.” His warm arms brought you to him, caught in his embrace as the guilt overwhelmed the numbness. "We're both getting out of there alive, no matter what it takes.” He whispered and although your brain told you not to believe him, to accept your fate you would trust him to the grave so you nodded your head into his shoulder. 

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

thank you so much for reading and all the support I've been receiving, I love you all so much and am glad you're enjoying my little thoughts. next chapter we can finally get into the games of it all, not gonna like this chapter was a lot of fun to write but took forever because I was having too many thoughts. if you enjoyed it feedback, likes, reblogs, and comments are all super appreciated. my inbox is always open! I love you all, thank you again! 💋

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[pascaloverx]

Moonlight

Summary: You and Edward Cullen used to have a romantic relationship. But fate seemed not to believe in the possibility of a vampire and a potential she-wolf being together. Years after your separation, you return to Forks. Edward is committed to Bella Swan, and Jacob Black has his own pack. What happens when, upon your return, you begin to transform into a she-wolf and both Edward and Jacob seem eager to revisit the past with you?

Author's Note: The characters in this fanfic do not belong to me but to Stephenie Meyer and the Twilight universe. The story blends events that happened in the Twilight saga movies with invented ones. Enjoy reading. This story will contain inappropriate language, a possible love triangle, scenes of violence, and romance.

TWO FOUR

THREE

The guilt of kissing Edward was eating away at you inside. You didn't know if you were feeling worse because of the kiss or because you enjoyed kissing him so much. The worst part was that you were starting to want to kiss him again. But that couldn't happen again. Not while he's dating someone else and you're staying at the house of his biggest enemy.

"You know your thoughts almost scream because they're so loud, right?" Billy Black comments as he walks through the door of his room. Well, his guest room. You realize you've been sitting on the bed, replaying every moment from last night. What could you have done to avoid feeling so burdened with guilt?

"Mr. Black, may I ask you a question?" You inquire as you snap back to reality. Billy Black was your father's best friend, which is why you grew up close to Jacob.

"No need for all that formality, Y/N. But go ahead and ask your question." Mr. Black enters the room, wheeling his wheelchair close to where you're sitting. You look at him, feeling a bit embarrassed about asking such a question.

"If you had made a mistake and your mind was punishing you with the heaviest burden of guilt, what would you do?" You ask, sounding quite dramatic, which makes him chuckle a bit.

"There are two ways to relieve the burden of guilt. The first, more complicated and less chosen: be honest and admit the mistake to everyone it may affect. Or you can take the other way: experience the guilt and let it go. Your father used to tell me that some mistakes are meant to live only in the deepest corners of our being. I hope I've helped." Mr. Black speaks calmly, as you find yourself thinking that perhaps this is a mistake you'd like to keep hidden in some corner of your being.

"You did help. I think I need to get some fresh air. If Jacob asks for me, tell him I'll be at the cliff." You say as you get up from the bed, and Mr. Black nods understandingly, acknowledging that you needed that time. The cliff was the place where all of you used to meet when you were younger. Jumping off it was your big adventure together. When you reach the top of the cliff, you feel the wind hitting your face strongly. It's liberating. You close your eyes, and for a moment, you feel nothing at all.

"Do you remember the last time we were here?" Edward appears behind you. You really didn't miss those surprise appearances of his.

"I remember a situation like this before. You showing up out of the blue and me trying to figure out what I've done to deserve the honor of having my private time invaded by Edward Cullen. But tell me, what do you want?" You speak almost harshly, clearly on the defensive, fearing a difficult conversation with Cullen. You don't even turn to look at Edward.

"If only back then I had left you alone. Maybe we wouldn't have broken up, and now we might be experiencing a different reality." Edward speaks as he approaches, and you can feel his presence getting closer to you.

"Stop with this talk. After what we did, reminiscing about the past is the last thing we should be doing. You should thank me for breaking up with you. You're in love with someone else. And you shouldn't even be here. There's more than one pack of wolves who jump off this cliff ready to take out any vampire." Looking into Edward's eyes as you say this makes everything more personal. Unfortunately, you can't help but worry about Cullen. Unfortunately, the kiss you shared proves that there are feelings between you.

"I want to talk about the kiss. You basically locked yourself in the Black house. I had to come here." Edward speaks as he approaches you, and you take a step back. Too much proximity might lead to repeating the mistake.

"I'll make it easy for you. The kiss meant nothing. We were foolish and let ourselves get carried away by silly sentimentality. We're not meant for each other. You're literally living your happily ever after. Overthinking that damn kiss will only hurt us. And hurt those around us." You say, feeling tears welling up in your eyes. Damn it, this conversation has barely begun and you already feel deeply affected by lying to Edward, especially because it's not true.

"It would be easier for me to move on if you told me why you broke up with me. Why you want to bury your feelings for me so deep in your heart that I hardly recognize the woman I fell in love with," Edward says, somewhat angrily, moving closer to you.

"My father found out about us the day before I broke up with you. I wanted to tell you, but he said he would kill every member of your family, that a war between the Cullens and the Quileutes would be on my hands. I feared for us. And for my tribe." As you explain to Edward something that remained unresolved between you, you feel like you're reopening a very painful wound by reliving the past.

"And you chose to be a coward and abandon me. Seems fair, a war doesn't seem fair when you can just end everything with the person you say you love and walk away," Edward responds, clearly hurt. As if he could judge you.

"First, I will not accept being called a coward for doing the right thing. Sure, I could have told you the truth years ago, but lying was the safest way to prevent you from doing something reckless. And I didn't just say I loved you, I actually loved you. I loved you so much that I can't let anyone find out we were together because any member of Sam's or Jacob's pack might believe you killed my parents. And I've done a very good job defending that none of you, Cullens, would ever do something like that." The words come out of your mouth more harshly than you intended. Edward looks perplexed, perhaps never realizing that if they found out about us, they would think he killed my parents to be with me. You know he didn't do it. But the others, they don't know him well enough.

"We could have faced this complicated situation together. Do you think I wouldn't have faced the accusations and the wolves' fury to have you by my side?" Edward's words, along with his closeness, almost made you wish you had never left.

"You're impulsive sometimes. We wouldn't have survived long together if we were responsible for the pain of the people we love. Not to mention that when you and I dated, I wasn't transforming. Maybe that's why I never felt it was wrong for us to be together, but now it's different." Your conversation has taken a deeply melancholic turn, something you didn't want. A relationship discussion is the last thing you planned when you came back to Forks.

"Whether you turn into a wolf or not wouldn't change how I feel about you. It never could. I thought you knew that." Your gaze meets Edward's. You always thought he would see you differently if you transformed into a wolf. Hearing him say otherwise makes you feel things you shouldn't. Feelings you should have abandoned a long time ago.

The rain starts to pour down on you both with force, as if the heavens are watching your argument from a front-row seat. You stare at Edward, trying to understand where discussing the past will lead you. Then, suddenly, your lips and Edward's meet. You don't notice who made the first move, who stepped towards the other first. You only feel the cold sensation of his lips on yours as you deepen the kiss. Your fingers grip Edward's hair tightly while his hands gently hold your waist. Then suddenly, Edward is pulled away from you. Jacob, in his wolf form, charges at him with all his strength. Edward's body falls near the edge of the cliff, which puts you on high alert. Seeing that Jacob is about to attack him again, you know what you have to do. Your body transforms into the wolf version as you run towards Jacob. Even though Edward was taken by surprise, he is recovering when you finish transforming fully into a wolf and attack Jacob. You don't want to hurt Jacob so you decide that instead of biting him or attacking him, you would push him to fall off the cliff with you. And that's what you do. You don't feel anything for a few seconds until the feeling of falling off the cliff is too sudden for you. You start to worry about Jacob when you can't find him. Still in your wolf form, you try to swim to see if you can identify Jacob. You smell him close to where he is and see that he is unconscious. You use your mouth to hold his wolf body until there is no more water.

"Jacob if you're listening to me, I'm sorry." You speak using telepathy. You don't even know if you're apologizing for pushing him off the cliff or for this part right now. You transform into a human again and like an instinct, Jacob's body seems to have realized that for you to provide first aid, it would be better for him to be in the human version as well. You give him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation while trying to get him to stay awake. A few minutes later, Jacob wakes up, releasing some water from his mouth. He looks at you, for a few seconds seeming grateful for your help. Until we both notice that we are inappropriate. In the next second, the two transform into wolves again.

"I can explain." You speak telepathically, while Jacob remains silent. You've been following him to his house since you got out of the water. He must be too angry to speak to you, which is killing you inside. You never wanted to hurt him.

"At home." That's all Jacob responds telepathically. He must be really mad. Damn Edward for showing up then. You arrive at the Black house a few minutes later. Jacob heads straight for the shower while you look for something to wear. You shower right after him, both of you in complete silence.

"When were you planning on filling me in about your little affair with Edward Cullen?" Jacob's first words to you once you both finish getting dressed. You try to suppress the part of you that wants to lash out at Jacob for speaking so coldly to you, as if you're Edward's lover.

"To be honest, never. Though I understand why you're angry with me, I'd like to remind you that I'm a single woman. I admit my mistake in kissing a vampire committed to someone else, but none of this has anything to do with you." You speak, trying to be as cold as Jacob.

"Your father would die again if he knew you'd become the kind of person who gets involved with a vampire," Jacob says, looking into your eyes with a seriousness that honestly upsets you. He's aiming to hurt you, perhaps for what you did with him at the cliff.

"Is that what you want to talk about? Not the fact that I threw both of us off a cliff to stop you from hurting Edward? Or that I seem to favor him over you?" You also know how to hurt feelings, or at least that's what you want to demonstrate. But the truth is, you hate hurting Jacob.

"Do you love him?" Jacob asks after several minutes of silence. You move closer to him, sitting beside him. Gently, you place your hand on his face.

"I don't love him like I love you. What I had with Edward is in the past. What you saw was just two people confusing what's already gone with their current moment. Trust me," you say, leaning closer to Jacob. Part of you believes your words, but another part wonders if you're being completely honest.

"Next time you use your wolf form to attack me, I won't go easy on you. Just so you know," Jacob says playfully. You lean in, planting a soft, brief kiss on his lips.

"I'll be eagerly anticipating that moment. And know that I won't go easy on you either," you say, and Jacob smiles, kissing you in response. After the kiss, you hug him tightly, hoping that the concern about how Edward is doing after the cliff incident leaves your mind.

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook/Taehyung/Jimin

L♡ve Triangle | TEASER

What happens when you put a painter, a dance teacher, and a personal trainer in one house with the person they all have a crush on?

Tags/Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Romance, so much bickering, Teasing, (heavy) flirting, Adult Themes (Aka you're all gonna be edged until the fic hits its climax towards the end oops), poly!AU, don't like it don't read it

Wordcount: ???

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

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"All is fair in the fight for love." Taehyubg smirks from his corner, as Jungkook rolls his eyes.

"Well, be sure to remember your words then because I won't be holding back." He challenges, crossing his arms. "I'll win her heart in no time. You both can stay here and enjoy Yoongi's free vacation or something." He almost jokes, making Jimin frown.

"You act like she's already yours." He mumbles. "What if she doesn't choose you?" He asks, earning a look from Taehyung.

"Then obviously she'll choose me." He says.

"You don't know that. She knows me the longest-" jimin defends himself, causing Jungkook to click his tongue.

"Childhood friends to lovers almost never works out Jiminie, give it up." He hums towards his friend.

"Well, just because she chooses one doesn't mean she can't spend time with the other anymore. So it's not like I'll lock her up in my basement and never let her see the light of day again." Taehyung reassures.

"But, guys.." jimin sighs, running his hand through his hair. "You do know that we talked about already- and she said she can't choose." He says.

"Well,..." Jungkook mumbles, but for once doesn't have anything to say to this as he knows that his friend is correct.

"So what do we do if she chooses no one? Then we'll all lose her." The oldest of the group tries to reason with them, when Taehyng suddenly looks at both of them from his spot on the couch.

"What if we don't make her choose?" He proposes.

Everyone frowns, unsure what he's getting at.

"What if we just.. share?" Taehyung proposes. "Not in some.. weird kinky way. But I mean, genuinely." He says, trying to explain his point. "She already made it clear she can't choose. She also gave each of us very clear signs that she holds deeper affection than what one would have for 'just' a friend." The young man offers. "What if we share?"

"You mean a triangle-relationship?" Jungkook wonders, and Jimin laughs.

"It would be more of a square, Kook." He corrects his friend who draws a shape of a triangle, before Jimin interrupts by holding his hand. "Taehyung-" he points to one point in the air. "Me.." he moves his friend's hand to another. "You-" he moves it again until he looks at his friend with raised eyebrows.

"Oh right! We're four then.." jungkook exclaims, and Taehyung can't help but laugh with everyone in endearment for a second-

Until all of them look at each other, silently agreeing to the plan. If neither of them can have you because you refuse to choose, then why not do this?

Sharing is caring, after all- and yoongi never said how they were supposed to solve their love triangle at the end of this vacation, after all.