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someonegoood · 3 days ago

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BRUISED HEARTS ✫ jeon jungkook

CONTAINS: boxer!Jungkook x reader, fighting turned bonding, emotional vulnerability, healing together, SOULMATES AU, mention of violence, past trauma, shared pain, fluff & angst, unexpected connection, fighting against fate....

NOTE: thanks so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed it!! this work hasn’t been revised, and english isn’t my first language, so please bear with me!!!! your feedback means a lot to me! 😊THIS IS A ONE PART STORY.

my main masterlist! ❀

From the moment you’re born, your soulmate exists somewhere out there—a thread tying two lives together, invisible but unbreakable. Yet, the connection remains asleep until your eighteenth birthday. That’s the moment everything changes.

The moment the clock strikes midnight, your body becomes linked to theirs. Every ache, every wound, every sharp sting of pain—they feel it, and so do you. A scraped knee burns against your skin. A broken bone sends you crumbling under the same pain.

It’s an unspoken law of the universe: soulmates share pain, but bleeding wounds always belong to the one who truly endured them.

For some, it’s proof of an unshakable bond, a guiding force leading them to their other half. For others, it’s a cruel twist of fate—linkedto a stranger’s suffering with no way to stop it.

And for you? It starts with a split lip the day after turning eighteen, stealing the breath from your lungs.

A sharp sting on your lip, the dull ache blooming across your face. You scramble out of bed, stumbling to the mirror, fingertips ghosting over the swollen skin. There’s no explanation. No accident from the night before. No memory of falling. And yet, the pain lingers deep in your bones.

And that’s when it hits you.

Your soulmate is hurt. And you have no idea who they are.

That was a year ago.

At first, the pain was relentless. It happened again two nights later—an ache in your ribs, enough to make you suffer with every breath. Then a bruise on your knuckles a week after that. It was slow at first, little reminders that somewhere, someone was fighting battles you couldn’t see.

You tried not to think about it too much. Tried to convince yourself it wasn’t your problem. But then the injuries worsened.

One morning, you woke up with bruises scattered across your face, purple and aching. Your mother screamed when she saw you.

"What happened to you?" she demanded, rushing over with wide, frantic eyes. You blinked at her, still groggy from sleep.

"I—I don’t know."

"Don’t lie to me!" Her voice cracked as she cupped your face, fingers trembling. "Who did this to you? Did someone—did someone hurt you?"

Tears burned at the back of your throat. "No one hurt me, Mom. I swear. It just… happened."

"That’s not possible," she whispered, her hands falling to her sides. "This isn’t normal."

You swallowed hard, heart pounding. "It’s the soulmate bond."

Your mother exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "Oh, sweetheart..." She pulled you into a hug, holding you tighter than she ever had before. "You need to start covering them. People will ask questions."

So you did.

From that day forward, you mastered the art of makeup. Layers of it over bruises, carefully chosen clothes to hide what foundation couldn’t. Some days, the pain was just a dull ache. Other days, it felt like your body was breaking under the weight of wounds you couldn’t see.

You had to.

Now, the pain is back. It comes in waves, occasional bruises appearing on your skin like echoes of a fight happening miles away. You thought it was over, that maybe your soulmate had finally found peace.

But the fresh aches tell you otherwise.

Jungkook’s life has always been a battlefield.

He grew up fighting, not just in the ring, but for survival. There was no softness in his world—no warm hugs, no soothing words, no gentle hands to catch him when he fell. His parents were there in surname only, too preoccupied with their own lives to notice the boy slipping through the cracks.

So he learned early: no one was coming to save him.

Pain was temporary. Weakness was unacceptable. And anger? Anger was the only thing that was his.

He was fifteen the first time he stumbled into an underground fight. It happened by accident—one of the older kids at school had mentioned a place, a ring hidden near a park on the outskirts of the city. No rules, no questions, just fists and money exchanged under flickering lights.

Jungkook hadn’t gone looking for a fight that night. But when he saw it—the raw brutality, the way blood stained the concrete floor, the way the crowd roared with every brutal hit—something inside him clicked.

For the first time, he felt something real.

The next time he went... he wasn’t just a spectator. Now, years later, fighting is the only thing that keeps him steady.

“Why do you keep doing this?” his coach, Seokjin, asks one evening after a particularly brutal match. Jungkook sits on the locker room bench, wrapping his bruised knuckles with practiced ease. His jaw is swollen, a cut on his cheekbone still fresh, but he barely flinches.

He doesn’t answer right away. Just stares at his hands, flexing his fingers. “Because I need to.”

Seokjin sighs, running a hand through his hair. “That’s not an answer. You have talent, Jungkook. Real talent. You could go pro. Make something of this. But instead, you’re out there throwing punches in illegal rings for what? Money? Bragging rights?”

Jungkook lets out a humorless laugh. “It’s not about money.”

“Then what is it about?” Seokjin presses, voice softer now. “Why do you need to fight like this?”

For a moment, Jungkook hesitates. Then he exhales, leaning back against the wall. “Because if I stop, I have to feel everything else.”

Seokjin doesn’t push him after that.

Two years ago, Jungkook turned eighteen, expecting something—anything. But no pain came. No sudden ache, no phantom injuries. Nothing. At first, he waited, convinced that maybe his soulmate just hadn’t been hurt yet. But days turned into weeks, then months, and still, he felt nothing.

Soulmates were supposed to share pain. If he felt nothing, then maybe soulmates weren’t real. Maybe he was alone in this world.

One night, during a rare outing with his friends, the topic comes up. They're sitting at a bar, laughter mixing with the low hum of music. Taehyung leans back in his seat, tipping his drink toward Jungkook with a knowing smirk.

"Still no sign of a soulmate?" he asks.

Jungkook scoffs, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "You know the answer."

Jimin, ever the romantic, frowns. "That’s... kind of sad, man. Doesn’t it bother you?"

"Not really," Jungkook lies, taking a slow sip. "Means I don’t have to worry about someone else’s pain."

Taehyung hums. "Or maybe it means they don’t exist at all."

Jimin shakes his head. "That’s not how it works. Everyone has a soulmate, Jungkook. You probably just haven’t—"

"I don’t believe in that crap," Jungkook cuts in, sharper than intended. "If I had one, I’d feel something. Anything. But I don’t."

The table falls silent for a moment. Then Taehyung raises his glass in a mock toast. "Well, soulmate or not, at least you can still drink with us."

Jungkook clinks his glass against Taehyung’s, forcing a smirk. But deep down, something unsettles him. A quiet thought he doesn’t want to acknowledge.

If soulmates are real, why hasn’t he felt anything?

The underground fights are ruthless. There are no rules, no referees to step in when things get too rough. It’s just fists, blood, and the roar of a crowd hungry for violence.

Jungkook thrives in it.

Tonight, he moves like a predator in the ring—sharp reflexes, calculated brutality. Every punch he throws is precise, every hit he takes with gritted teeth and unwavering focus. He’s fast and relentless. He doesn’t just fight to win, he fights to feel something. To punish himself for things he won’t say out loud.

And somewhere, you feel every single one.

Your body jerks awake with a sharp gasp, searing pain tearing through your ribs. Your vision swims, the force of a punch nearly knocking the breath from your lungs. You clutch your side, fingers pressing against skin that remains unbroken but throbs as if bruised to the bone.

You barely make it to the bathroom, bracing yourself against the counter as your legs tremble beneath you. Another hit lands, this time to the jaw, and your head snaps to the side as if an invisible fist just struck you. A choked whimper escapes your lips, swallowed by the silence of your empty apartment.

Whoever your soulmate is, they are fighting for their life.

And losing.

The next morning you tend to your aching body, carefully putting ointment over bruises that aren’t really yours. The motions are familiar, practiced. Once done, you take your dog for a walk, hoping the fresh air will clear your mind.

But the moment you get to the park, he takes off.

“Wait—Soo!” you call, but he doesn’t stop. He runs between trees, disappearing into the distance. Panic rises in your chest as you chase after him, heart pounding.

You finally catch sight of him slipping through a half-open door of an old shed. A strange chill creeps up your spine.

You hesitate before stepping inside, your voice trembling as you call, “Soo?”

The dim light reveals punching bags, weights, and a massive ring in the center of the room. The scent of sweat and metal lingers in the air. A gym—hidden, secure.

And then, a sound. A faint, almost imperceptible.

Your heart jumps. You whip around, breath shallow, eyes scanning the room. The space seems unnervingly still, the only movement coming from the dim, buzzing fluorescent lights above. But there’s nothing else. Nothing... until another sound. This one louder.

A figure steps from the shadows, taller than you expected, broad shoulders cutting through the low light like a figure from a dream. The knot in your stomach tightens, but you can’t look away.

You know who it is.

Your heart races, but not from fear—no, it's something else, something far more primal. It’s like your body recognizes him before your mind has a chance to make sense of it. A fleeting sensation of familiarity, as though you've seen him before… in a dream, or maybe in another lifetime.

His eyes catch yours—intense, almost possessive—like he’s been waiting for you too. His lips part, but he doesn't speak. His presence feels like a weight in the room, pulling the space around you taut, making everything feel infinitely closer. You swallow hard, a lump in your throat, unable to find the words, but a strange tug at the back of your mind tells you he knows you.

But how? Why does it feel like this moment was always meant to happen?

He steps closer, the sound of his footsteps muffled by the thick air in the room. There’s a quiet intensity to his movements, as if he's waiting for something, calculating your reaction. Your breath quickens as your pulse races in your ears, the distance between you shrinking.

"Soo?" you ask again, your voice trembling, unsure whether it's out of fear or something else entirely. You can’t quite place it, but something inside you stirs, a flutter deep in your chest, as though you’ve been waiting for him all along.

Jungkook doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, his gaze holds yours, unreadable, before a small, knowing grin tugs at his lips. His silence speaks volumes. There’s something in the air, a strange recognition, an unspoken connection. It feels inevitable, even if neither of you understands it.

Jungkook stands frozen, his mind a whirlwind of confusion, and something deeper—a recognition he can’t shake. He’s drawn to you, inexplicably, even though every instinct tells him to stay back.

Jungkook thinks this can’t be real.

His mind spins with a whirlwind of confusion and something deeper, a recognition he can't shake. He’s always been cautious. Always kept his walls high. After all, the world had taught him that letting anyone in just leads to pain. But here you are, standing in front of him, and there’s a familiarity in your eyes—something that speaks to him on a level he can’t even begin to understand.

Why now? Who are you?, he thinks.

His eyes follow your every movement. Every part of him wants to know you, to understand why everything about you feels so... right. But the voice in his head urges him to retreat, to protect himself from whatever this connection might bring. He can’t afford to trust anyone again—not after everything he’s lost.

But the pull is too strong.

All of a sudden, a high-pitched bark echoes through the gym, breaking the tension in the air. The sound is so unexpected, so out of place in the heavy silence, that it startles both Jungkook and you.

Jungkook jumps, muscles tensing, eyes wide. The bark throws him off balance, and in his haste to step back, he bumps into something hard. The sound of metal crashing to the ground sends a jolt of adrenaline through him.

He stumbles, trying to regain his footing, but as he does, his shoulder brushes against yours. The unexpected contact makes both of you freeze.

A sudden wave of warmth rushes through you, more intense than any shock you’ve ever felt. It’s like a spark, an undeniable connection surging between the two of you.

You flinch, your breath catching in your throat.

"Auch..." you mutter under your breath, the word slipping out instinctively, and just like that, something shifts in the air. It’s subtle, but you feel it. The pull between you and Jungkook intensifies, and for the first time, the weight of the moment settles around you, overwhelming, undeniable.

Jungkook stands still, eyes wide as he processes the surge of emotion, the inexplicable bond between you. His breath falters for a moment, the realization dawning on him.

This is what it feels like.

You and Jungkook stand there, breathless, a shared understanding passing between you. Neither of you needs to speak because you both know.

You’re soulmates.

“Soo?”

That fluffy little dog. The one that had barked, causing the sudden, chaotic moment between you and Jungkook. The dog now stands quietly at your feet, as if it, too, understands the truth, playing its part in this strange, inevitable moment.

Jungkook looks between you and your dog, his confusion turning into something deeper. He doesn’t speak, but his eyes narrow, taking in the shift in your expression. Something clicks in his mind, a strange understanding flashing in his gaze.

His gaze flickers down to the dog again, and then back to you—realizing something that had been hidden in plain sight all along.

You take a deep breath, and the words rush out before you can stop them.

“I—I’m so sorry,” you say, your voice soft but filled with genuine regret. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t mean to intrude.” Your gaze flickers down to the dog at your feet, still looking up at you with that familiar, innocent expression. “I was just looking for Soo.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond immediately. He looks at you, his eyes softening, taking in your apology. Then, after a long moment, he steps a little closer, the distance between you still feeling palpable.

“You don’t need to apologize,” he says, his voice low but firm, like he’s already decided what he’s going to say. “But don’t get this twisted. I didn’t ask for any of this.”

His words hit you like a slap. For a moment, you’re stunned into silence. You can’t breathe. You thought the connection between you was undeniable, but now, it feels like he’s put up an unscalable wall between you.

“I don’t want this… whatever this is. I don’t need anyone to complete me, and I sure as hell don’t need you or anyone else to make sense of things.”

You open your mouth, but no words come. How do you fight against a rejection like that?

Jungkook turns away, the finality in his movement clear—this conversation is over. He doesn’t look back. The words hang in the air, heavy and suffocating, leaving you standing in the aftermath of a connection that never had the chance to bloom.

Jungkook leans back against the cool metal of the bar, the bottle of beer in his hand nearly empty. His friends are scattered around him, the night still young, but the mood feels different tonight. The conversation from earlier keeps replaying in his mind, echoing in his thoughts.

“SO YOU REJECTED HER?” Taehyung’s voice cuts through the air, sharp and teasing, his eyebrow arched as he takes another long sip from his bottle.

The others look between them, all clearly waiting for Jungkook's response. There’s a lightness in the air, but it feels forced, like they can’t tell if this is some sort of joke or if Jungkook is dead serious.

“I didn’t reject her,” Jungkook mutters finally, his voice rough, as if the words don’t sit well in his mouth. "I just told her the truth. She was… looking for something I don’t want."

Jimin leans forward, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “So, Jeon Jungkook doesn’t want a soulmate?” He shakes his head, laughing lightly. “That’s rich, man.”

Jungkook’s eyes flash with irritation, and for a moment, the teasing vibe shifts. It’s not fun anymore. Something darker flickers in his gaze, something that says he’s not in the mood for jokes.

“I never asked for this,” Jungkook snaps, his tone harsher than he meant. “I’m not looking for someone to complete me. I’ve got my own shit to deal with.”

“Yeah, but you could’ve been a little gentler with it,” Namjoon adds, his voice calm but firm. “You’re not the only one with baggage, you know. But she... she didn’t deserve that cold of a response.”

“Did she do something?” Taehyung asks, his tone softer now, more thoughtful. “Remember the ring. When you’re boxing... she feels it.”

“Stop,” Jungkook mutters, the frustration and guilt creeping into his voice. He doesn’t want to hear it, doesn’t want to deal with it. His jaw tightens, and a frown pulls at the corners of his mouth.

“She can’t handle me,” he finally says, his voice low, almost like a confession. “No one can handle all of this. I’m not gonna drag her into my mess.”

“She's already in it, man,” Taehyung shoots back, his words cutting through the tension. “You don’t get to decide that for her. She’s already shown she’s not backing away. She’s in this whether you want her to be or not.”

Jungkook falls silent, the weight of his friends' words sinking into him like a stone. He doesn’t know how to respond. The truth stings, but it also feels impossible to ignore.

A few weeks had passed since the encounter, and the tension still lingered in the air. It wasn’t easy to shake off, and you decided it was best to avoid him and that gym altogether. The thought of crossing paths again felt unbearable, especially when everything remained so raw, unresolved.

So, you made a conscious decision to stop walking past the gym—you started taking a different route home after university, deliberately steering as far away from the gym as possible.

Meanwhile, Jungkook had thrown himself into training. The big fight was approaching, the culmination of months of grueling preparation, and he needed to be at his best. But no matter how hard he trained, no matter how many rounds he sparred or how relentlessly he hit the punching bag, his mind kept drifting back to you.

He tried to concentrate on the fight, but all he could think about was the last and the first time he saw you—the pain in your eyes, the way he had pushed you away when he should’ve reached for you.

The night of the fight finally arrived, and the gym was buzzing with energy. The crowd outside had already begun to gather, their anticipation filling the air.

In the locker room, Jungkook stood, sweat dripping from his body as he tightened his gloves. His coach gave him one last pep talk, but Jungkook wasn’t really listening. His thoughts kept wandering back to you—wondering if you were still thinking about him, wondering where you were.

The bell rang, and the fight began.

Sitting on your couch you felt an odd pull deep in your chest, a force was gently tugging at you, calling you back to the gym. You tried to ignore it, to push it aside, but the feeling only grew stronger. Something inside you told you to go to the gym, so, against your better judgment, you followed that pull.

When you arrived, the crowd was already thick with excitement. The atmosphere was electric. You pushed through the sea of bodies, your heart racing for reasons you couldn’t quite explain. And then, you saw him.

Jungkook in the ring. He was a force of nature—each punch landing with precision, his body flowing like a dancer, but there was a raw intensity in his movements. He wasn’t just fighting his opponent; it was as though he was fighting everything inside him—the hurt, the frustration, the things he’d been trying to bury.

And then, it hit.

The pain. Sudden and sharp, like a knife piercing your chest. You stumbled back, clutching your stomach as the world spun around you. The pressure in your chest was unbearable, each breath harder to take than the last. You wanted to ignore it, push through it, but the pain only worsened.

You gasped for air, your body trembling, and with each punch Jungkook landed in the ring, the agony seemed to ripple through you. You pressed your hand to your stomach, trying to steady yourself, but the pain wouldn’t stop. You accidentally trip over a rock and fall to the ground, hurting your ankle.

And that’s when he felt it, a particular pain in his ankle.

Jungkook’s head snapped to the side, as though something had reached him through the chaos. He searched the crowd, his gaze sweeping over the sea of people, until it landed on you. His heart skipped a beat. There you were, clutching your chest on the floor, barely able to stand. His world tilted.

Ignoring the shouts from his coach and the crowd—he leaped out of the ring, pushing through the crowd as though nothing else mattered. His pulse hammered in his ears, and all he could think about was getting to you.

The crowd around you parted as Jungkook pushed through. You felt him before you saw him, his presence like a magnet pulling you toward him. His hand steadied you, his touch warm and strong as you struggled to stay conscious.

You looked up just as he reached you, kneeling in front of you, his hands hovering around you as if he wasn’t sure what to do. His eyes locked onto yours, filled with panic, and something inside him snapped.

“I knew you were here,” he breathed, his voice rough. “What’s happening? Are you okay?”

“I…” You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat, the pain still gripping you. Somehow, being near him made it feel a little less suffocating.

“Stay with me,” he urged, his voice shaking with urgency. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”

You couldn’t find the words. The pain still gnawed at you, relentless and all-consuming. You trembled, barely able to stay on your feet, your knees buckling.

“Hold on,” he whispered, his voice tight with panic as he scooped you into his arms. “I’ve got you.”

The crowd murmured, but it was a blur. All you could focus on was Jungkook’s heartbeat, thudding in his chest as he rushed you toward the back exit. His touch was gentle, yet desperate—his focus solely on you.

Once outside, he didn’t hesitate. He pushed open the door and called out to the driver, his voice strained with worry. “Get in the car,” he ordered. “We’re going to my place.”

You wanted to say something, to assure him that you were fine, but the words wouldn’t come. The pain still gripped you, leaving you numb.

“You’re gonna be alright,” Jungkook murmured, glancing over at you before turning his attention back to the road. “I’ll take care of you. We’ll figure this out.”

When you arrived at his place, he didn’t let go of you. He helped you inside, his hands gentle as he guided you to the couch. His eyes never left you as he checked your pulse, your temperature, doing everything he could to make sure you were okay.

“I’m here,” he whispered, sitting beside you. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His words were the only comfort you could feel as the pain started to slowly subside, bit by bit. You didn’t know how long you would stay here, or what would happen next, but there was one thing you were certain of: he wasn’t going anywhere.

The bathroom was small, the smell of antiseptic filling the air, the light flickering overhead. Jungkook stood at the sink, his shirt off, revealing the bruises and cuts from the fight. His movements were sharp, purposeful as he cleaned the cuts on his arms, his jaw clenched against the sting.

You sat on the edge of the tub, your body still sore from the pain that had brought you here. Jungkook had insisted on helping you, leading you to the bathroom, tending to your bruises with a professionalism that made it clear he was used to this kind of care.

You winced as he applied pressure to the bruise on your side. His touch was gentle but distant, his expression unreadable. The quiet movements filled the air, but there was an unspoken tension between you.

You didn’t know what to say, or how to bridge the gap between you. This wasn’t how you imagined the night would go—here you were, two people in silence, tending to each other’s wounds. You remembered how he had carried you, how you’d felt his worry despite the coldness he tried to show.

You said your name softly, breaking the silence. “Sorry for all this… for everything. I didn’t mean for any of it to happen.”

“Jungkook,” he replied shortly, his voice clipped, almost dismissive. “It’s fine. Just… be careful next time.”

You nodded, feeling the sting of his coldness, but understanding. He was protecting himself. The sharpness in his tone hit harder than you expected.

“I should probably go,” you murmured, standing up slowly, mindful of the pain. “You’ve done enough. I—”

Before you could finish, his voice stopped you.

“I’ll take you home,” he said, his tone softer now but still holding that edge of distance. “It’s late. You shouldn’t be out alone.”

You didn’t argue. You couldn’t. You just nodded as he grabbed his jacket and slid it on, movements slow and deliberate. You left the bathroom in silence, walking to the car without another word.

When he pulled up outside your apartment, you hesitated. You didn’t want to make things awkward, but you felt the need to say something.

“Thanks for… helping me tonight,” you said quietly. “I didn’t expect any of this, but… I appreciate it.”

Jungkook didn’t look at you. His eyes remained fixed on the rearview mirror as he nodded. “Get some rest. Stay safe.”

You gave him a small nod, feeling the weight of his words. You hadn’t expected more, but still, something in the air felt unfinished. A moment of hesitation passed before you reached over, picking it up slowly. Jungkook’s eyes flickered to you, his face hardening immediately.

"I should probably have your number, just in case something like this happens again," you said, trying to make it sound casual, though you felt your heart racing. You didn’t want to push him, but you also didn’t want to leave things hanging.

He didn’t immediately respond, and you could feel the conflict inside him. He was clearly reluctant. But after a long pause, he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before nodding curtly. "Fine," he muttered, a mix of frustration and resignation in his tone. "But don’t expect much from me."

You held his gaze for a beat, then typed in your contact information. As you handed the phone back to him, you caught a glimpse of the hesitation in his eyes.

He didn’t say anything, just took it from you without looking at your face. His fingers gripped the device a little too tightly, as if holding on to something he didn’t want to let go of.

"Good night," you said softly, opening the door.

"Yeah," Jungkook’s voice was quieter than before, and for a brief second, you thought you saw something flicker in his eyes. "Get some rest."

You closed the door behind you and stood for a moment on the sidewalk, watching his car pull away. The night felt unusually quiet, almost too still, and as you walked to the entrance of your apartment, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted.

He shook his head, trying to silence the thoughts. He knew he wasn’t supposed to care. He had made that decision a long time ago—no soulmates, no attachments.

But as he drove away, the uncertainty waved at him.

The next morning you sat on the edge of your bed, your phone pressed to your ear as you spoke with your mother. The concern in her voice was unmistakable, but you tried to keep the conversation light, not wanting to worry her too much.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked, the words heavy with worry. “I saw the bruises on your arm when we last talked. Have you been getting enough rest? Are you eating?”

You glanced down at the fading bruises on your wrist, the reminder of the hectic few days that had passed. You hadn't told her about Jungkook yet—didn't want to add fuel to the fire of her concern. She’d only worry more if she knew about him.

“I’m fine, Mom,” you said, forcing your voice to sound reassuring. “I’m just a little clumsy, that’s all. Nothing to worry about.”

Her sigh on the other end of the line was audible, but she didn’t press further. “Alright. Just take care of yourself, okay? And if you ever need me—”

“I know, Mom. I will. Love you,” you interrupted, hoping to end the conversation before she could say anything more. You needed the distraction, the escape, from everything that was weighing you down.

“Love you too,” she replied, and you could hear the concern still lingering in her tone before she hung up.

Soo followed you, tail wagging, oblivious to the storm of thoughts that were swirling in your head. You smiled weakly at the sight of him, kneeling down to pet him before you prepared to leave. “I’ll be back soon, Soo. Be good while I’m gone,” you murmured, trying to shake off the weight of the night.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. As you reached for the door to leave for your uni classes, a notification caught your eye. . You checked the screen, your stomach tightening as you saw the name that popped up.

Jungkook.

i don’t know how to make this easier for you, just stay safe

don’t get too close to me

It was cold, but there was something deeper in it, something that pulled at you despite the detachment. His words were sharp, but the underlying care was unmistakable, even if he couldn’t bring himself to show it fully.

You bit your lip, a mix of emotions washing over you. He wanted to protect you, but at the same time, he was pushing you away, keeping you at a distance. It was always the same—Jungkook’s confusion, his walls, his inability to be vulnerable.

There was no easy answer, no simple way to make sense of him, of what you were supposed to do with all of this. You ran your fingers over the edge of your desk, then typed a short reply.

i’ll be careful, but don’t push me away!!

i won’t disappear :)

You hesitated, staring at the screen for a moment, then sent it. What were you even expecting in return?

With a new sense of energy and warmth you turned to leave, Soo’s wagging tail following you out the door. As you stepped into the cool morning air, a sense of possibility filled you. Whatever this was between you and Jungkook, whatever he was trying to say, you felt a spark of hope that it wasn’t over.

The gym was nearly silent, save for the rhythmic hum of the overhead lights and the faint creak of the floorboards beneath Jungkook’s heavy steps. His fists were clenched, shoulders rigid with frustration as he stormed inside. The sting of his loss still burned in his chest, but the anger coursing through him had nothing to do with the fight itself.

Seokjin was already there, arms crossed, watching him with the kind of knowing gaze that made Jungkook’s skin itch. He didn’t need a lecture right now. He needed to hit something, to drown out the mess in his head with exhaustion.

"You lost," Seokjin said, his voice even but edged with something firm, something disappointed. "You weren’t focused. You let your emotions get in the way. You let her get in the way."

Jungkook’s jaw tightened. His pulse roared in his ears at the mention of you.

"I told you I don’t need anyone’s help," he bit out, his voice rough with frustration. "I don’t need you or anyone else telling me what to do. I’m fine on my own."

Seokjin let out a slow exhale, shaking his head. "It’s not about needing help, Jungkook. It’s about what you’re doing to yourself. You’re pushing everything away—everyone away. And for what?"

Jungkook’s chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven breaths. He hated this. Hated feeling like his insides were unraveling. Like no matter how fast he ran, the past—the pain—was always a step behind, waiting to sink its claws into him.

"You don’t get it," he muttered, shaking his head. "You don’t know what it’s like to feel like everything’s slipping through your fingers, no matter what you do."

"Then stop running," Seokjin snapped, stepping forward. "Face it. Face her. Face yourself. Because this? What you’re doing now? It’s not working."

The words hit harder than any punch Jungkook had taken in the ring. His breathing stuttered, his vision blurring at the edges as something sharp lodged itself in his throat. He turned away before Seokjin could see the cracks forming.

"I’m done," he muttered, voice tight. "I don’t need this."

"Jungkook—"

But he was already moving, shoving open the door and stepping out into the cold night air. His pulse pounded in his ears, hands still curled into fists at his sides. He didn’t know where he was going.

All he knew was that if he stayed, if he let himself feel any more than he already did—he wouldn’t be able to stop. And that terrified him more than anything.

You had just finished your last class of the day, your mind still tangled in the mess of notes and half-understood lectures. The weight of exhaustion clung to you, but it wasn’t just from studying—it was from everything. From the lingering thoughts of Jungkook, from the conversation with your mother, from the way your chest felt too tight lately.

And then you saw him.

Jungkook was walking down the street, head down, shoulders tense, his whole presence brimming with frustration. His eyes—dark and stormy—barely flickered as people passed him, lost in whatever war was raging inside him. But beneath the anger, beneath the cold detachment, you saw it.

Something broken.

He didn’t notice you at first, his mind too consumed by his own turmoil. But as you caught up with him, you called out his name softly, trying not to startle him.

"Jungkook?" Your voice was gentle, but it broke through the fog in his mind. He turned sharply, his eyes flashing with a mix of fury and sadness.

"What do you want?" His voice was harsh, sharp, like he was ready to lash out. "I’m not in the mood for any of this."

You didn’t flinch. You didn’t back down. Instead, you stepped closer, your tone steady, insistent. "You’re not going anywhere like this. You need to calm down."

"I don’t need your help," Jungkook snapped, his fists tightening at his sides. "Just leave me alone."

His jaw clenched, but before he could argue, you grabbed his wrist—not hard, not forcefully, just enough to ground him. His body was tense, radiating frustration, but he didn’t pull away. Maybe because deep down, he was too exhausted to fight anymore.

You shook your head, not willing to let him push you away. "No, Jungkook. You’re not fine. I’m not letting you do this alone. Come with me."

Before he could argue further, you guided him toward your apartment. You didn’t care about his anger, his desire to fight. You cared about the pain behind it, the way he was falling apart, and you weren’t going to let him suffer in silence.

The walk back to your apartment was quiet, thick with unspoken tension. He moved stiffly beside you, every step heavy with something neither of you were ready to name.

Once inside, you guided him to the couch. He sat reluctantly, his eyes still dark with frustration. You disappeared into the kitchen for a moment, returning with two glasses of water. He took his without a word, staring at the liquid like it held answers he’d never find.

"Why do you care?" His voice was quieter now, but the edge was still there. "You don't know me at all."

You sat down next to him, close enough for warmth but not enough to make him retreat. "You’re human, Jungkook. You’re allowed to be angry, to make mistakes. But you don’t have to go through it alone."

Something flickered in his expression—hesitation, doubt, maybe even relief. His fingers curled around the glass, but he didn’t drink. He took a deep breath, as if he was allowing himself to finally feel the weight of everything he had been pushing down.

"I don’t know what to do anymore," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "I feel lost. And it hurts."

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you leaned forward, placing your hand gently on his. The contact was small, but it seemed to ground him, his shoulders slumping just a little as he let the tension leave his body.

"Just be here," you said softly. "Just for tonight. Let yourself feel it. You don’t have to have all the answers."

Jungkook exhaled, his head tilting back as he closed his eyes. It felt like a weight was lifting from him, just a little. And for the first time in what felt like forever, he let himself lean into the moment, let the anger and the frustration subside, replaced by something quieter—something softer.

"Thank you," he whispered, barely audible. "I didn’t think anyone would be here for me like this."

As the silence stretched between you, the weight of the day slowly fading, you glanced at him, feeling a quiet resolve settle in your chest. His shoulders were relaxed now, his eyes softer than you’d seen them before. You couldn’t help but smile, the warmth in your heart spreading through you.

You watched him, your resolve settling. His walls were still up, but there was a crack now, a glimpse of the person beneath all the anger and resistance.

"You're not alone, Jungkook," you said, voice soft but certain. "I’m your soulmate, anyway. No matter how much you fight it, I’m here."

His eyes snapped to yours, something shifting between you in the dim light. It wasn’t a plea. It wasn’t an argument. Just the truth—unshakable, undeniable.

For a moment, he didn’t speak. But then, barely there, the corners of his lips twitched, something small, something real.

And for now, that was enough.

SIX MONTHS LATER...

Jungkook was sprawled on your couch, flipping through channels with the kind of bored impatience that made you roll your eyes. His hair was still damp from his shower, a few strands falling into his eyes, but he didn’t bother pushing them back.

You were on the floor, leaning against the coffee table, scrolling through your emails when a notification popped up. Your brows furrowed as you opened the message.

You are invited to the wedding of Kim Namjoon & Seo Yuna…

Your eyes widened. "Jungkook."

"Hm?" He didn’t look away from the TV.

"You got an invitation to Namjoon’s wedding."

That made him pause. He turned his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "Namjoon? Hyung is getting married?"

"Yeah. And it says we’re invited." You lifted your phone, shaking it a little.

Jungkook’s jaw tensed as he sat up properly. "He invited both of us?"

"That’s what we means."

His lips pressed into a thin line. You watched as he processed the information, his fingers tapping against his knee.

"You don’t have to come," he said after a beat, voice a little too casual. "It’s not like anyone expects—"

"I want to," you interrupted, tilting your head at him. "Unless you don’t want me to go."

Jungkook hesitated, eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite place. A few months ago, he would’ve found a way to push you away, to make it seem like he didn’t care. But now, he was different. Softer in ways he didn’t realize.

Finally, he exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "It’s just… a lot. Weddings, relationships—" He stopped himself, then sighed. "But if you want to go, then we’ll go."

You smiled, setting your phone down. "Then it’s settled."

Jungkook shook his head, mumbling something under his breath, but you caught the way his lips twitched, the way his fingers absentmindedly reached for yours as if it was second nature now.

Neither of you said it out loud, but the truth hung between you like a quiet understanding.

This wasn’t just about a wedding. It was about showing up—for each other.

Jungkook had spent months resisting, convincing himself that fate was something he could outrun. That having a soulmate was a burden, not a gift. But somewhere along the way—between the quiet moments where you stood by him without expecting anything in return, between the nights where you saw the parts of him he kept hidden from the world—something shifted.

He stopped fighting it. Stopped fighting you.

It wasn’t sudden, but gradual, like ice melting under the warmth of the sun. He still wasn’t perfect—still stubborn, still rough around the edges—but the walls he’d built weren’t impenetrable anymore.

Now, when you reached for him, he didn’t pull away. When you said his name, he answered without hesitation. And when he looked at you, really looked at you, he didn’t see a mistake.

He saw home.

A few days later, both of you were seated in the venue. It was breathtaking—golden chandeliers casting a soft glow over the polished floors, tables adorned with white roses, and a string quartet playing something elegant in the background.

Jungkook had been fidgeting with the cuffs of his black suit since the moment you arrived, but he looked effortlessly handsome, the dark fabric hugging his frame in all the right places.

"You clean up well," you murmured, adjusting the slightly crooked tie around his neck.

He huffed, feigning annoyance, but you didn’t miss the way his lips twitched. "Yeah, well, you look—" His gaze flickered over you, lingering for a moment longer than necessary. "Nice."

"Nice?" You raised an eyebrow. "That’s all I get?"

Jungkook rolled his eyes, but there was no real irritation behind it. His fingers ghosted over your wrist before he slipped his hand into yours, like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Fine. You look beautiful. Happy now?"

Before you could tease him, the sound of laughter and clinking glasses filled the air as Namjoon and Yuna made their grand entrance. The crowd erupted into cheers, and Jungkook straightened, his grip on your hand tightening slightly.

"Do weddings always feel this… intense?" he muttered, eyeing the scene.

You grinned. "It’s just love, Jungkook. Try not to look so scared."

His jaw clenched slightly, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he let you pull him toward your table, where some of his friends were already gathered.

Throughout the night, you caught glimpses of something new in him. The way his shoulders eased when you leaned into him, the way his fingers absentmindedly traced circles on the back of your hand, the way his lips twitched in amusement when you forced him onto the dance floor despite his protests.

And then, somewhere between the speeches and the first dance, he leaned in, his voice quieter, more certain than before.

"I don’t know when it happened," he murmured, eyes locked on yours. "But I stopped fighting it. Stopped fighting us."

Your breath hitched, the weight of his words settling between you.

Jungkook wasn’t running anymore.

Instead, he was here—standing beside you, hand in yours, finally accepting that maybe, just maybe, fate had been right all along.

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that-weird-thing-in-the-woods · 12 hours ago

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~{ Heyyy, So this is a post made with the help and suggestion of @villainmirabelmadriga so go check them out and now to the post! }~

•God-Queen•

Diana and has been invited by the God-Queen to heavens.

This was a great surprise for Diana as unlike the legends would say her stepmother adores her husbands children and often gives them her support the only reason for her reputation for hating her husbands children is because when she finds out she beats the hell out of Pariah while his children watch.

And speaking from one of the lucky children who have gotten to see it for herself it is amazing and definitely not with the added pluses of eating the sweets that her stepmother gives and petting her peacocks while talking with Lord Ares and Lady Eris who also like watching their “Father” get his ass beat.

Anyway Diana is certainly excited to visit her stepmother and she could ask why her father has been quiet for so long.

-•—••••••••••••••••—•-

•Background•

It has been over 300 years since Danny home-world has been eaten by their sun and over thousands since Danny himself had fully died by the hands of his parents and the G.I.W.

When Danny had first died he was a mess and was never able to fully recover from his death when he had to start fighting the over ghosts and beating the G.I.W but the second time around Danny was much better prepared for it and he got the hang of being a full ghost very soon as it’s not that much different from being a half-ghost.

And he was mostly left alone unless it was his children Dawn and Dusk who he absolutely adores and his afterlife was calm until the Observers decided that with Pariah Darks madness mostly worked its way through that he was able to become king again but for everyone’s safety and to make sure this didn’t happen again they needed a Queen who would be able to put down any and all attempts for domination.

So Danny was chosen to become Queen as he was the only one able to beat him down and shove him back into his tomb so now Danny was the Queen.

And his life was good apart from having to kick Pariahs ass every few years it was fine especially when he got the most adorable Stepchildren out of this.

Speaking of stepchildren maybe he should invite Diana and Marvel over.

-•—••••••••••••••••—•-

•Little Facts•

•The Gods often change gender so for Diana to see her stepmother as a man it is normal

•Danny has no romantic feelings for Pariah Dark, he mostly just beats the shit out of him for his lack of respect for women and putting his children through shit

•Dusk is Ares and Dawn and is Eris (mostly for the chaos part)

•Danny keeps on saying “Don’t worry about it sweetheart here have some [Insert Greek sweet]” whenever Diana asks where her father is

•In the past Pariah Dark kids would go to Danny when their father would be an asshole and watch as their stepmother beat the shit out of him and it was Glorious

•Captain Marvel has met Danny and Danny treats him like he does his stepchildren,And Marvel isn’t complaining he likes the sweets Danny gives him before he goes to beat Pariah back into submission while yelling “RESPECT WOMEN YOU BASTARD”

•Pariah Dark is still around Danny just throws his ass in the nap-time box when he pisses him off

•The reason the legends say that Danny hates Pariah Dark kids is because when he beats his ass they mistake the hate for the kids instead of him

•Danny is the Ancient Of Marriage and Family

•Dawn goes to pick up her little half sister and brother with some good old ghostly bonding and the JL think that Eris kidnapped her for Hera :)

•Dawn and dusk know Billy’s not their actual brother but their mother likes him so honorary little brother!

•~{The DC part is in Diana’s pov because even if I have no clue how to write her I’m worse that writing Billy}~

-•—••••••••••••••••—•-

•Appearances•

Danny

[I wanted to put him into the 70s type thing but I couldn’t find one I like so you gremlins get this]

Dawn

Dusk

[^One for when he’s fighting and one for chilling^]

~{ And that’s it! Hope you gremlins like it byeeee }~

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secret-moonstruck · 3 days ago

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How you see me? | k. sn

— Pairing: sunoo x fem!reader | (Masterlist)

— Synopsis: Y/N and Sunoo were just friends, even though she liked him, she never had hope because her friend was gay…what chance would she have.

— Genre: smut

— Warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, oral sex, praising, cum inside, making out, clit play, begging, hickeys, cum eating, overstimulation.

— Notes: I'm new to this writing thing, and English is not my first language. Sorry for not writing so well, I wish to improve and bring better and well-written stories.

When his friends told Sunoo to take a drunk Y/N to the shower, he tensed up, he should have said no, but what was he going to say? So he just did as he was told.

- No, it's cold, stop. - Y/N's voice was tearful as the cold water began to fall on her.

Sunoo's hands continued to hold Y/N as she tried to get out of the shower, but she could barely stand, but it was difficult for him to keep her there, the cold water falling not only on her, but on him as well, which made him feel a little sorry for her, it was really very cold, but she needed to be at least a little sober.

Y/N was too dizzy, her legs had no strength, her body fell onto Sunoo's, he froze, too close, she was too close, he could feel the heat of her body against his and it made him nervous, he's been like this for weeks, he can barely look at her, but why is he feeling like this? It's not normal, he's never felt this way about any girl.

- Warm... - Y/N whispered as she hugged him, she inhaled his scent, settling more and more against his body. - You smell so good.

Sunoo managed to come to his senses, so he pushed her away a little, her eyes closed, her face flushed, he couldn't help but look down, her clothes stuck to her body marking every curve, he felt more and more confused.

- It's sticking. - Y/N complained about her clothes that were glued to her body. - Who bathes with their clothes on?

Sunoo's panic increased when Y/N let go of him, only to start taking off her clothes, he was supposed to stop her but he couldn't, he just stood there, petrified as he watched her undress. He felt so wrong in leaving, but it was too tempting, he couldn't help it, just as he couldn't help what he was feeling, seeing her there half naked in front of him was making him excited, that's when he came to his senses, she was drunk, she didn't know what she was doing. Then he stopped her, his hands firmly holding her wrists.

Y/N's eyes opened, a smile appearing on her flushed face, little by little she wasn't so unconscious anymore, which was worse.

- Instead of my wrists because it doesn't squeeze my neck. - That was clearly the alcohol an intrusive thought leaving Y/N's lips.

The grip on his wrists lessened, Sunoo tried to understand if he had heard right, no, his mind could only be playing a trick on him, Y/N wouldn't say that so suddenly, not to him.

But it was clear he heard her right as she approached, her breathing heavy as her eyes were fixed on his, their lips almost touching, so close, so tempting… but he left her there, alone, she jumped in fright when the door slammed just as he ran out of the bathroom.

When Y/N woke up she didn't need to open her eyes to know that she was in Sunoo's bed, she knew his smell very well, she snuggled closer against her pillow, while smelling the scent of the covers, she wanted it to be him there. From the day she met him she liked him, she soon realized that he was ridiculous and useless, she would never have any chance with him. If he only liked girls, maybe then she would have a small chance.

Sunoo was in the room and finally he had managed to sleep, after spending the night trying to understand his mind, trying to control his thoughts. No girl so far had left him like this, he was too confused about Y/N.

At first he tried to convince himself that it was normal. He to feel jealous when one of her friends was too close to her? Normal, she was your friend so it was normal to be jealous of your friends, right? Miss spending comfortable time while watching together snuggled up against each other? Normal, then again she was your friend so why would it be weird? There were so many things about her that he used this excuse for, but starting to have hot dreams about her no longer seemed so normal, much less that he liked it. And it was even less normal when he woke up and found himself thinking about what it would be like to kiss her, what it would be like to touch her, what she would taste like, what it would be like to have her body writhing beneath his? What would it be like to hear her moaning his name?

These thoughts had been tormenting him for weeks, and last night, that situation in the bathroom, that was his limit. He knew what he felt, he knew what he wanted, he knew what he needed. Y/N, just Y/N. What he felt about her, he never felt about anyone. And he needed to deal with this situation.

The day went by normally, at least in the eyes of others.

Y/N didn't seem to remember the bathroom scene, and the others had no idea what had happened, but for Sunoo the day was hell.

He couldn't take his eyes off Y/N, the anger when she was being too friendly with others, how she laughed while they played video games together. He couldn't get closer to her, at the same time his eyes remained on her all day, he couldn't get close, he was afraid he wouldn't be able to control his body, his hands.

When night fell, Y/N was going to sleep in Sunoo's room again, but she felt bad about letting him sleep in the living room.

- Please Sunoo, I'll feel guilty if you sleep there again. What's wrong? Come, sleep comfortably in your bed.

He hesitated for a moment, but he wanted to know if she was teasing him or really didn't remember what happened in the bathroom.

They were watching, Sunoo had to cover herself, it was difficult to control her thoughts while Y/N was only wearing the shirt he lent her to sleep in.

She should have put something underneath too, but she didn't. He didn't know if he thought she was naive in not seeing the harm in being like that in front of him, if he thought she was belittling him as a man, or if she was doing it on purpose.

- About yesterday... - He started to ask, he needed to know. - Do you remember anything?

- Hmm, just being in the restaurant drinking afterwards I don't remember anything else.

- And why did you drink so much?

He was a little disappointed that she didn't remember, he was worth so little to her that she didn't even remember trying to kiss him? Of trying to get naked in front of you? Damn... how could she ask him to choke her? He tried so hard to avoid thinking about it, but now the thought was there again.

- Oh, that? Sorry, I was just angry, a guy indirectly rejected me, but that doesn't even really bother me, no guy ever likes me anyway.

He hated how she said things like that, belittling herself. But he ended up smiling without realizing it, happy that the guy rejected her, he felt relieved.

- I like. - He whispered without thinking but without regret.

- Thank you, but I'm not talking about that, I mean it in the sense of a MAN like you know.

His blood boiled at that moment, he hated how she highlighted the word man, did she really not see him as a man?

- That's exactly what I'm talking about Y/N, I AM a man, and I like you.

- Sunoo, I don't... -She was confused by his answer. - There's no way you...

- How do you know? You can't decide for me whether I like you or whether I desire you. - He was clearly angry.

To like? To wish? She couldn't be hearing right.

- But Sunoo, how? I mean, you're GAY. - Y/N laughed nervously, trying to hide her confusion, maybe he was joking or just trying to cheer her up?

Hearing her say that angered him. He never had a problem with it, but why did it come out of her mouth so offensive?

He doesn't know what happened to him, anger took over his body, when he realized it was over Y/N, his hands holding her against the bed, her eyes wide, looking at him in surprise. But there was something more, it wasn't just surprise, she liked it, he could see how her eyes were shining, she was happy, she seemed satisfied as if she had been waiting for this, as if she had wanted this for a long time, to be under his body.

- Are you sure of what you said? - He whispered, pressing her closer to the bed. - You didn't seem to think that way yesterday in the bathroom, when you tried to kiss me, when you asked me to choke you.

- What did I do? - Y/N was surprised she thought she had dreamed it. - I'm sorry...

- You must really apologize, how can you say these things, if you couldn't even stay awake properly? Leave me like that? Having to end this alone, again?

- Again? - The glow that covered Y/'s eyesThey weren't visible. - Do you think of me like that?

Y/N felt Sunoo's grip on her arms relax a little, then she stood up, her hands pressed against his chest pushing him gently.

- Do you feel like thinking about me? - Y/N asked softly, with a smug smile. - Show me, I want to see.

- What? No. - Sunoo's cheeks turned red. Y/N smiled, he looked confident just a few seconds ago and now he looked so sweet with his flushed face.

- Show me Sunoo, I want to see how much you like me. - Y/N continued pushing him as she crawled under him until he lay back against the soft pillows. She left a soft kiss on his lips, before taking off his shirt, running her fingers gently over his body making him tense, she walked away smiling.

- Come on Sunoo, touch yourself for me. - Y/N took off her own shirt, exposing her body to him.

It was the second time he saw Y/N half naked, and this time he didn't need to run away.

He took off the rest of his clothes, and blushed even more when he noticed Y/N's gaze on his erection, it was strange doing this in front of her, but at the same time...it felt good.

He took his member, his fingers running over the tip spreading the precum before starting to pump, he noticed how Y/N's breathing became heavier, how she seemed restless as she watched him, at the same time he felt embarrassed, he liked her reaction, he wanted to tease her.

- Y/N…Noona. - He moaned slyly, his hand moving slowly, but it was tortuous for himself, his movements accelerated, his breathing becoming irregular. - Please noona, help me.

Sunoo was very close, his movements faster, Y/N couldn't stop looking at how he looked so beautiful, desperate, his face flushed, how he looked so tearful calling for her.

She moved closer, replacing his hand with hers, when she touched him he trembled under her touch. Her name coming out in whispers from his mouth, he couldn't take it anymore, soon ropes of cum covered his abdomen and her hands as he came, his eyes closed enjoying the moment, when he opened them he saw Y/N licking his hand, he swallowed hard at the scene in front of him.

- Damn Y/N... - He cursed when she bent over, her tongue passing over his abdomen, cleaning it before he felt her mouth around his cock, cleaning up the drops.

- You look so cute like that. - She said as she got up, dragging herself to sit on his lap, while touching his red face.

Y/N saw the change in expression on his face. How could she call him cute in a situation like that? He became angry, his eyes narrowed, a wicked smile on his face.

- Is the sweet little fox going wild? - She joked, but soon a small scream left her lips, when it suddenly penetrated her.

- Do you still think I'm sweet and cute with my dick buried inside you? - The tone of his voice was as threatening as his gaze, this was definitely a side of him that she never thought existed.

Sunoo turned her on the bed, getting on top of her, his hand holding her waist while the other raised her thigh, pulling her more and more towards him, while his hips moved quickly against hers, the thrusts rhythmic eliciting moans from her lips.

She gasped in surprise when she felt his fingers around her neck.

- You like that, don't you? You asked yesterday, how many times did you imagine me choking you while fucking you?

His smile was almost devilish as he pressed into her neck, his movements becoming faster and faster. He felt her tightening around him every time he applied pressure to his fingers, suffocating her a little. It didn't take long for him to fill her with cum inside her, as his name came out as a whisper, he continued the movements until he made her come around him.

When he withdrew from inside her, he lowered himself between her thighs, his tongue passing gently over her sensitive hole cleaning her, while Y/N trembled feeling his hot tongue, she was sensitive and it was torturous, he moaned as he devoured her, she was tearful as his mouth tortured her, her hands clinging to his hair when she came again, he smiled, as she came violently shaking.

The room was silent the next morning when Jake opened the door.

- You're not coming for coffee... - Jake froze at the sight before him. - You two? No.

Y/N and Sunoo could hear Jake running around gossiping to the others.

- They will tease me so much about this. - Sunoo complained, cuddling up to you like a cute puppy.

- Well, I don't care about leaving here anytime soon.

- Me either. - He stood up a little just so he could kiss her.

#enhypen #enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #sunoo smut #sunoo x reader #sunoo imagines #kim sunoo #sunoo scenarios #sunoo #heeseung #jay #jake #sunghoon #jungwon #niki #smut #fantasy #imagine

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twstfanblog · 1 day ago

Note

Hi, if requests are still open, I was wondering if you could do one with Sebek where the he and the reader/ yuu are just talking about books, and Sebek sorta forgets that we/ yuu aren't from twisted wonderland and asks us how we've never heard of some really popular book, before having to be reminded about that fact when reader/ yuu just gives him a look that say "I'm not from here," and just back tracking with an apology, because we all know he would apologise profusely for forgetting something like that, and just something really fluffy where the two of them are in the library in the town near the school on the weekend.

If not, that's totally okay. Have a good day/ night and drink some water.💚💚💚💚

Library Date

Sebek x Reader

While the NRC library was much bigger than the local library of Sage Town, it was still the perfect location for the prefect and Sebek's reading dates. Every third weekend, they would get dressed in casual clothing and take the long bus ride down the mountain. A quick walk around the downtown area, a trip to the boba shop, and ending in a reserved private reading room until the last bus back to NRC came.

They would spend hours in comfortable silence together, reading through their tall book piles. While Sebek was delighted by fictional scandals of lords and ladies, the prefect normally chose non-fiction or educational books about the world around them. Though, on this library date, Sebek had proposed they do a genre switch.

The book the prefect had picked was informational; an etiquette guide of various dining customs around the world. He's not sure when he would ever use the knowledge, but any and all information he gained as Malleus’s retainer was nothing but helpful. He looked up from the text, a smile on his face that quickly fell at seeing the prefect's expression.

"Dear? Are you okay?" He looked at the cover of the book in their hands, brows furrowed, "Do you not like it...?"

"I do. It's just...I guess I'm confused? I'm halfway through, but people keep getting introduced, and I have no idea who any of them are. Like, this ship just appeared, and everyone got super excited, and then the next chapter happened. And suddenly, this James character is there? Who is that?"

"..." Sebek's face pinches together, his expression befuddled, "Captain James Hook? The pirate captain who ferries travelers to the second star to the right? How do you not know about him? He's a well-known figure in children's literature!"

The prefect sat, blinking nonchalantly as Sebek went on and on about the disservice of their choices in reading material. They leaned back in their chair, hands folding in front of them as he entered into a passionate speech on the many bedtime stories about Captain James and his pirate-like adventures.

A librarian has leaned their head in, angrily shushing Sebek who nearly shushed back. It wasn't enough to stop his rant, but his voice lowered considerably.

Sighing, Sebek shook his head, "Honestly, dear, how do you not know of him? Even Silver and I were read his books in the remote lands of Briar Valley-"

"Sebek, what's the name of my hometown?"

"..." The half-fae pulled a confused look, but seeing how deadpanned his partner was he thought it over. The name of Yuu's hometown was simple to pronounce, yet hard to remember. The names of places from their world were so odd yet familiar that it-

...

The tips of Sebek's ears started to turn red. Taking a deep breath, he picked his book back up and hid his face within the pages, "...Sorry."

"It's ok."

"I forgot."

"I assumed as much."

"I shouldn't have yelled at you."

"No, you shouldn't have." The Prefect reached across the table, gently tucking their fingers between Sebek's iron grip and the book cover as a way to hold his hand, "But I forgive you because I love you."

Sebek's red face peaked from behind the book, a small, goofy smile spreading his lips, "Thank you..."

"Though, to be fair. We do have Captain Hook in my world too."

"Wait, what?"

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #twst wonderland #twst sebek #sebek zigvolt #sebek x reader #requests

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malk1ns · 3 days ago

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february 27 vs flyers, 5-4 OT win

i was sent a picture that appeared on the jumbotron before the game started and it looked like geno had a lock on the front of his breezers, almost like he was wearing some sort of chastity device....

inspiration also drawn from the second picture in this tweet.

Sid doesn’t usually put Geno in chastity during games.

Practices are one thing. Nobody’s really going all-out and there’s very little contact—it’s not a regular thing, but sometimes Sid will be in a mood, or Geno will be acting out pre-rut, or they’re using it to make their afternoon plans a little more exciting. Chastity at work has fallen out of favor in general, and in pro sports in particular where even the most well-designed cage can cause injury with the wrong movement.

Geno’s rut is due in a month, and his eye is starting to wander like it does this time every year. Normally Sid doesn’t mind; all alphas look, everyone knows that, and at the end of the day it’s Sid that Geno comes home to, Sid who Geno spends his ruts into, Sid who wears Geno’s bite on his neck.

Sometimes, though, Sid’s even keel about Geno’s tendency to drool after whatever other omegas are out on the ice upends itself. The first game in their home-and-home against Philadelphia turns out to be the tipping point.

Sid hasn’t paid much attention to how the Flyers are doing this year. They’re not contenders and neither are the Penguins, and the rivalry isn’t as blood-hot as it was when they were younger. He still gets a rush out of scoring in Philadelphia, but it’s not the same level of hatred. Maybe he’s getting soft as he gets older, or maybe over a decade of the Flyers being practically irrelevant while Sid had to make room for three Stanley Cups and two Conn Smythes on his trophy shelf cooled it off.

Whatever the reason, Sid’s vaguely aware that they’ve got a young Russian superstar in the making over there, but it’s not until Geno starts ‘casually’ stretching near him during warmups, making a point to skate by the Flyers bench during play stoppages to exchange a few words that Sid gives it more than a passing thought.

Geno had been restless on the trip back to Pittsburgh, handsy with Sid in a way he almost never gets after bad losses…unless something else got him riled up, of course.

He argued when Sid brought the chastity belt out after their pre-game nap, but Sid has his pride, and Geno’s easy to manipulate when he’s hopped up on his own hormones; he’s suggestible, extra vulnerable to an omega looking up at him through their lashes and putting a little whine in their voice. Knot-stupid, just like every alpha on the planet—they’re all the same at the end of the day.

Sid eased the sting by letting Geno hump his thighs until he came all over Sid’s skin; while Geno was sprawled out on their bed, knot deflating and half-drunk on his orgasm, Sid cleaned himself up, wiped Geno down, and locked him into his cage, all before Geno was coherent enough to notice and try to talk his way out of it.

That doesn’t stop him from arguing the entire way to the rink.

“Hurts,” he whines, shifting in the passenger seat. Sid keeps his eyes on the road; seeing Geno squirm like this always gets him going, and if he gives off even a hint of interest Geno will be on him all night. “Sid, can’t wear during game, like, people see.”

“Should have thought of that on Tuesday before you were drooling after that kid,” Sid says, laying on the horn and swerving into the turn lane he needs at the last second. “Whoops. If I could trust you to keep it in your pants, I wouldn’t have to do this. He’s way too young for you anyway; you’ll thank me after your rut once you’re done being embarrassed.”

“No,” Geno mutters petulantly, but he slouches in his seat and stays quiet the rest of the drive.

The guys notice. It’s impossible not to. Sid holds his breath as they get changed, keeping an eye on where Geno’s practically trying to crawl into his stall, but nobody says anything. The team is never shy about giving them a hard time when Geno shows up wearing it to practice, but that’s different and they know it—dirty jokes and poorly-done innuendo doesn’t apply here.

Everyone gives Geno space, except for Karl who sits next to him for a while. Sid keeps half an eye on the way they bend towards each other to whisper; Karl’s omega keeps him on a pretty tight leash, and while he’s never had to play a game in chastity Sid knows for a fact that Mel has her own methods to keep him under control when his rut is approaching.

The cage works. Geno doesn’t so much as look at the Flyers’ bench the whole first period. Granted, he doesn’t do much of anything else either, and they troop off the ice at intermission down one and with basically no pushback to show for it.

Sid’s as much at fault as anyone; he spent most of the first 20 minutes watching Geno, tracking his path across the ice and cataloging the slump of his shoulders on the bench. He ignores Sully’s irritated diatribe in favor of watching Geno listlessly spin his stick in his stall, eyes downcast and thighs pressed tight together.

Sid’s lips twist into a frown. It’s working, but not the way he anticipated. He wanted Geno focused and hungry, not embarrassed and withdrawn.

Just as they’re about to walk back out for the second, Sid tugs Geno’s sleeve to hold him back. “Hey,” he says, keeping his voice low. “Get this game for us and I’ll make it worth your while.” He cuts his eyes to Geno’s groin where the outline of the lock is pressing against his pants.

Geno doesn’t say anything, but Sid knows when he’s caught Geno’s attention.

It takes another two goals against and a goalie change that has the entire bench cowering under Ned’s anger, but when Geno flips that switch he’s still one of the best in the league, and Sid loves nothing more than sitting back and watching him decide the outcome of a game by sheer will alone.

When Geno snaps the OT winner into the net, Sid can’t get to him fast enough. He practically pushes past Kris to slide under Geno’s arm, tilting his head just a bit, enough for Geno to scent him but (probably) not enough for anyone else to notice what he’s doing out in the middle of the ice with every camera on them.

“That was so hot,” he says under his breath as they skate to the bench, biting back a smile when Geno tries to follow him down the tunnel and gets yanked back. First star of the night gets media duty when it’s a national game, and Sid loves making Geno wait.

Geno’s practically gagging for it by the time he gets back to the locker room, but then the team cameras crowd around him for the helmet video. He stumbles his way through a little speech, eyes cutting to Sid constantly as he trots out something encouraging. Sid slips out when the reporters are let in, taking pity on Geno’s distraction and giving him room to breathe so he can talk to the media without giving them a soundbite he’ll regret later.

By the time Geno barges out of the locker room, hair still wet and eyes wild, Sid’s waited just about as long as he himself can stand without starting to fray at the edges; Geno must be absolutely miserable.

Sid chatters through the whole drive home, as much to give himself something to think about that’s not Geno’s dick as it is to help Geno out. Geno’s responses are mostly grunts, but he laughs at Sid’s shitty joke about Torts, so Sid’s feeling pretty good when they pull into his garage.

As soon as they’re up in the bedroom, Geno’s on him.

“Please,” he groans, mouthing at Sid’s throat. He has Sid pinned to the wall and he’s rubbing himself all over Sid’s body. Sid can feel the metal from the chastity belt through Geno’s thin sweatpants. “Sid, need so bad, you’re say to me if I win you game you give to me, please, it hurts.”

“Okay, big guy,” Sid gasps, fighting off his instinctive urge to fawn, to swoon into Geno’s arms and let Geno take him. “You’re right. You got me that game—let me take this thing off and I’ll take care of you.”

Geno fights it, but Sid powers him down onto the mattress and strips off his clothes before sitting on Geno’s thighs, effectively pinning him in place. Geno thrashes, working to try and throw Sid off and get him belly-down and presenting, but Sid can see it in his eyes—he likes it when Sid bosses him around just as much as Sid does.

Sid keeps the key for Geno’s cage on his necklace, and he fishes it out from under his shirt with shaky hands, almost dropping the chain once it’s unclasped. The sound Geno makes when Sid frees his dick and balls from the constrictive metal is more pain than it is pleasure, and Sid doesn’t give him a second of relief, getting his hands around Geno’s dick and stroking him until he’s hard.

“Damn,” Sid says, mouth watering. Geno fully hard is impressive; even for an alpha he’s big, dick curving up to his belly button and veiny. The skin where his knot swells is loose, and Sid knows from experience that it’s sensitive as hell. When he pinches it, Geno practically howls.

Sid squeezes his thighs around Geno’s legs tighter and rocks down, shivering a little at the stimulation over his pussy. He’s wet and throbbing—Geno’s rut doesn’t always trigger his heat, but he suspects this year it will, with how attuned he’s felt to Geno’s shifts in hormones over the last few weeks. “What do you want?” he manages, clenching down on nothing. “You could fuck me, or I could use my mouth. Whatever you want.”

Geno looks distraught, hands flying to Sid’s side as Sid fumbles his shirt off. “Siiiiid,” he whines, plucking at the waistband of Sid’s sweats until Sid lifts up enough to somehow rip his way out of those too. “So hard to choose, like, both so good.” He bites his lip, and Sid suppresses a whine of his own; he wants to do that. “Pussy always so sweet though, think I want to be inside.” His hands find the creases of Sid’s hips, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. “You give?”

“Anything,” Sid groans, lifting up and sliding down onto Geno’s dick without giving either of them time to adjust. “Fuck.”

Geno’s hands spasm around his hips as Sid sets a rhythm, bracing himself against Geno’s chest and ducking his head. Geno’s huge and hot in him, and Sid’s legs are sore, but he’s falling into the pheromones Geno’s pumping out—they’re fogging up his brain, erasing the muscle strain from the game and the pain in his elbow and leaving behind nothing but white-hot pleasure. Sid thinks his toes are curling.

“Malysh,” Geno rumbles, alpha-deep from his chest, and when he moves to flip them over Sid doesn’t offer an ounce of resistance. Geno cages him in, arms on either side of Sid’s head, and Sid purrs, baring his throat. Geno’s bite mark feels like it’s throbbing and fresh.

Geno ducks his head into Sid’s neck and fucks into him, careless and hard and feral, and all Sid can do is lie there and take it, every ounce of strength sapped from him as Geno’s knot starts to swell in him.

When it catches, the noise Sid makes is animal, desperate, and when Geno’s hand sneaks between them and closes around his dick he comes so hard he loses the ability to breathe for a second.

Geno’s own breathing is heavy in Sid’s ear, labored and undercut with a nasal whine as he humps forward, knot caught but the need to fuck into Sid until Sid is well and truly claimed still pushing him. It’s not like the steamy romance novels all the Russians in the league are always passing around for their book club, Sid can’t feel Geno come inside him, but he can Geno’s knot twitch, can feel his balls pulse against his ass as they empty themselves into him, and it’s arousing enough to make his soft dick twitch painfully.

Geno always goes nonverbal when he’s knotting Sid, so Sid runs his hands down Geno’s back and purrs as hard as he can, feeling Geno’s frantic heartbeat start to slow as Sid settles them down.

By the time Geno’s knot has shrunk enough to pull out, he’s regained his ability to speak.

“Oh god,” he groans, flopping onto his stomach and narrowly missing clocking Sid in the face with his arm. “Best.”

“Uh huh,” Sid says, blinking rapidly to try and keep from passing out right there. “Good work tonight.”

Geno snorts a laugh into the pillow, then heaves himself to his feet and stumbles for the bathroom. Sid listens to him piss and wash his hands, letting himself wallow in the vast fondness that rushes through his chest.

Alphas have wandering eyes. Alphas need to be kept in their place, reminded where they belong. Alphas are ruled by their instincts and their hormones, and the closer they get to rut the more like animals they act. Everyone knows that.

What Sid also knows is that Geno never lets Sid get up after they fuck, insisting that he be the one to get water and clean Sid off. He knows that Geno will stay up half the night, long after he thinks Sid’s fallen asleep, tracing the scar he left on Sid’s throat all those years ago. He knows that Geno will do anything, reverse the clock a decade and a half on the ice, if it will make Sid happy.

Sid wriggles on the mattress until he can get to his discarded pants, pulling his phone out of his pocket and tapping at the screen, holding the phone close to his face and closing one eye so he can see. Geno always somehow manages to have all of Sid’s favorite stuff on hand for his heats, everything he happens to be craving that cycle there for him to indulge in; Sid needs to do a better job of returning the favor this year.

#sidgeno #hockey rpf #my writing #my fic #24-25 series

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whosyourmommy69 · 3 days ago

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Short Story of Falling in love with Rafe Cameron

The first time I saw him, I thought he was trouble. That was the thing everyone said that about him. He had this reckless, almost dangerous aura that surrounded him. Blonde hair , piercing eyes that never seemed to miss a thing, and a smile that could be either a warning or a promise. I should’ve known better.

But I didn’t.

It started at a party one of those endless nights where people float from room to room, doing god knows what barely remembering the faces they meet. I hadn’t expected to be noticed. Then he appeared, leaning against the table bent down, one arm casually slung over it. he leans up and his eyes caught mine for a moment. It was brief, but it felt like an eternity. He didn’t look away.

“Who’s this?” he asked sitting up wiping his nose , his voice almost playful, but there was something under it, something darker.

I smiled awkwardly, trying to stay composed. "Im trying to find my friend in this mess.

He laughed “You need some help?" Cmon just say no, just say no. "uh yea sure, She has blonde hair"

He smirked at me, "Gonna have to be more specific than that baby, You see how many girls here have blonde hair. What's she wearing"

"uh yea right um she has a blue dress on." I replied.

What started off as an innocent searched ended in us on his boat, drinking something from a bottle that looked like it costed more than my rent. One thing lead to another and before I know it I wake up in a bed. I was cold, naked, alone, and PISSED.

Since that night he started showing up everywhere. I’d catch him in the hallways at school or a tagged post on my instagram. At first it was annoying. This guy I have never met all of a sudden is every where in my life. So I did what any girl would do and I stalked him. I stalk his friends, his friends of friends, his siblings, even his parents. I followed behind him to his classes. You know I even went as far as talking the road that passes his house thinking maybe just maybe I would catch a glimpse of him.

This went on for weeks until one day he was there. I couldn't believe it. The guy who flipped my whole world upside down in just one night, sitting in his truck. I felt like the world stopped moving for a second when he looked up at me getting out the truck.

"hey stalker" he yelled from across the driveway, walking towards me.

"Not a stalker just passing through" I say calmly putting my head down.

"Mhm Im sure stalker. Where you coming from and where's your car?" he says almost like its a crime that Im walking.

"I uh don't have one, and Im coming back from work."

"let me give you a ride" he says smirking

I hesitated for a second before nodding, walking up to the truck and sliding into the passenger seat. The air between us was thick with unspoken tension, I tried to hide it the way my hands would hold onto my pants. With every second spent in his presence I tried to act normal, like this was just another casual ride. But inside, I was a nervous wreck. I mean I had given up hope of even talking to him again, let alone in his car with him alone. And yet here I was, in his car, close enough to smell the faint scent of his cologne. I looked at his hands thinking about the last time they were on me.

Rafe's attention was still on the road. He looked over with a look of something that felt like a challenge. My heart raced, the realization of what was happening settling in.

The drive felt like it took forever, but when he finally reached my street, Rafe didn’t immediately slow down. Instead, he pulled up just past my house and parked at the curb. I turned to look at him, my breath caught in my chest.

“Thanks for the ride,” I said, my voice a little more breathless than I intended.

Rafe didn’t say anything at first. His gaze lingered on me dark and intent. It made my skin prickle. The air between us thickened, like something was about to shift.

“You know,” Rafe said, his voice low, almost teasing. “I've been thinking about that night, and I know you have been to."

I blinked, unsure if I heard him right. “What?”

“Don’t act dumb, I've never seen you on my street before that night” he smirked, leaning closer, his face inches from mine now. “ and I also see the way you watch me. The way you follow me around when you think I’m not looking.” His words sent a shivers down my spine. He knew. He had known all along.

My cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and excitement. I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could, Rafe was already kissing me soft at first like he was testing to see how I would act. I melted into it, my body reacting instinctively.

The kiss deepened, and I felt a warmth spread through my chest. The low hum of the engine, the rhythm of his breath against mine, it just felt so right. I had dreamed of this moment ever since that night on the boat, but now that it was happening, everything was different.

When we finally pulled away, my head was spinning. Rafe just laughed softly, his lips curling into a satisfied grin.

“You’ve been watching me for a while, haven’t you?” he whispered, his voice rough.

I nodded “I didn’t think you’d notice.”

“I know everything” Rafe murmured, his hand brushing against mine before he slowly withdrew. “I can't always make the first move stalker”

And with that, he started the engine again, pulling away from the curb. I watched him disappear down the street, my body still warm from the moment we shared. As I turned to head inside, I couldn’t help but smile.

Little did I know this was either the beginning of the greatest love Ive ever known, or the most painful heartbreak Ive ever experienced.

Author: There is going to be multiple parts!! so stay tuned hope u enjoy!!

#fanfiction #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron #obx fic #rafe x reader #obx rafe cameron #rafe Cameron #outerbanks rafe

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xiiithhazard · 3 days ago

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Those That Follow

Why is Knuckles so afraid of ghosts? (Movie Verse)

Word Prompt - Atonement

@year-of-the-echidna

…

“Alight!” Sonic crowed happily, as he started the movie before anyone could see the title. It was finally his turn to pick, and he had plans. But just so he was out of the danger zone, he’d brought his bean bag chair. Something Tails had clearly picked up on, as it wasn’t a normal habit of his, but he hadn’t commented yet. Thus, allowing the hedgehog’s scheme to continue uninterrupted. “You guys are gonna love this one. It’s a classic.”

They proceeded to sit back with their individual bowls of popcorn and drinks to watch an elderly lady collecting discarded books from a library, before taking them down to the maze-like basement for storage. Of course, the action started pretty soon after that, when a couple of books floated off the shelves on their own, to seemingly reorganize themselves.

“Sonic?” Tails whispered, instantly understanding what he was up to. But he quickly shushed the fox, as they both turned to watch Knuckles, for his reaction. Already he was tensed, however, he didn’t quite understand what was happening yet and continued to watch the woman, as she made her way through the shelves, only to look back when a dozen or so tiny drawers opened on their own, allowing thousands of cards to fly into the air without any visible means to be doing so.

Immediately she began to scream and ran to the exit, only to continuously get herself lost in the endless shelves of books, until she finally rounded a corner and was attacked by a glowing, terrifying creature just off screen. Then the title appeared, and the theme song began to play.

‘Ghostbusters’.

“Oh, come on, man.” Sonic proclaimed, trying and failing to keep a straight face, when Knuckles stood up and walked out of the room. “We haven’t even seen the ghost yet.” He pointed out truthfully. However, it was pretty clear that he wasn’t coming back, so he decided to just let his chuckles run free and relish his prank.

“Sonic, that wasn’t very nice.” Tails insisted, not at all finding it funny. “You know how he feels about that.”

“Oh, give me a break. He’s gotta get over it at some point.” Sonic countered, waving his friend’s concerned off like it was just an annoying bug and started the movie again. Only for Tails to get up and leave as well. “Hey. Come on. It was just a joke.”

“If that’s how you feel, then you can watch it alone.” The fox seethed and exited the room in a huff. Leaving Sonic, as promised, alone on a night that the three of them were supposed to share.

And suddenly it wasn’t so funny anymore.

Jumping up, he rushed after his friend, only to find that Tails had run into Maddie on his way to the attic. The hedgehog winced, knowing what was about to transpire. And he wasn’t disappointed, as her gaze suddenly snapped to him, as he tried to sneak back into the living room.

“Sonic.” Her voice was calm, but firm, thus, he found himself basically forced to obey and froze on the spot, despite his better judgement. With that he just sighed and turned to await his punishment. “Why would you do that?” She asked sternly.

“It –” He began, tugging at one of his gloves sheepishly. “It was just a joke.” She folded her arms, never a good sign. “Oh, come on. It’s ghosts.” He insisted, though he knew he was just digging his own grave at that point.

“I seem to recall a certain blue hedgehog having an irrational fear of water.” She pointed out and he quickly jumped to defend himself.

“It’s not irrational. I could drown.” He insisted truthfully. But she just continued to glare at him.

“In the bathtub?” She clarified and he was suddenly less certain.

“It could happen.”

Maddie remined quiet for a moment, just watching him, until she finally spoke again, though her voice was just a little softer now. “The point is, you have a fear, a fear you cannot control. And no one makes fun of you for it.”

He found himself looking at the floor, as he realized she was right. She always was. “I’m sorry.” He said at last, but she wasn’t convinced.

“I’m not the one you hurt, Sonic.” Her specific choice of words made him cringe. He never wanted to hurt his friends. But then she knelt down to be at his level, and he felt a teaching moment coming on. “Have you ever bothered to ask him – why he’s afraid?”

“He wouldn’t talk about it anyway.” Sonic said, at least 98% sure that he was right on that front. However, she just scowled at him again and he sighed, ready to face his fate and started walking to the attic. Only for her to reach out and stop him again.

“The reason for asking is not to actually get an answer.” She explained, though, that hardly made any sense at all. “You ask because you care. Even if he never tells you. It’s your job, as his friend, to be there – and listen.”

Sonic realized just how heavy her words had been, as they really sank in, and he looked up into her eyes. “I – I’ve been really bad friend.” He admitted, almost ready to cry. But Maddie gave him a supportive smile, her eyes filled with understanding.

“Then – it’s time you make it right. And, thankfully, all you have to do is talk to him. It might mean more than you realize.” She encouraged and stood up to give him a gentle pat on the head, before stepping aside and allowing him to head to the attic.

He was halfway up the stairs, when he realized he had a shadow and looked back to find Tails following him, though he didn’t ask why, he could see it on his friend’s face. His own guilt for not stepping up to stop the prank, when he realized his friend would be hurt and a simply desire to just make sure Knuckles was okay.

So, together they climbed the stairs and found their friend sitting on his bed, his back to them. Thankfully, Tails was the first one with enough courage to step forward, and walked over until the echidna could see that he was present.

“Are you okay?” He whispered and Knuckles smiled, though it didn’t light his face at all.

“Yes.” He answered and Tails took that as his cue to sit with him. Thus, forcing Sonic to swallow his pride and walk over as well. Though he didn’t receive as warm a welcome.

He probably deserved that.

“Hey Knux.” He said nervously, fiddling with the cuff of his glove once again. “I – I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” He started, only for his friend to lift his head a little, like he was waiting for more. However, Sonic had run out of preorganized thoughts. “It really was just a joke.” He insisted, only for Tails to glare at him sharply. “But – that isn’t an excuse.” He finally let his hands fall to his sides, as he admitted defeat. “A joke isn’t a joke if it isn’t funny. And – hurting my friends is never funny.” He lifted his eyes to meet Knuckles and held the gaze, determined to make this right. “I really am sorry.”

It was all he could really say. But thankfully, his friend’s stern expression slowly softened, and he finally smiled again. This time actually looking like he was okay, instead of just saying it, despite the fact that he clearly wasn’t.

However, Knuckles ended up being the one to look away first and sigh, as he stared at his hands in sudden frustration. “It is not that I don’t understand. I do.” He admitted quietly and Sonic carefully inched backward to sit in a chair, so they would all be on the same level. “It is not becoming of a warrior. It is – irrational.”

There was that word again. “That doesn’t make it invalid.” Tails came to his rescue, but Knuckles didn’t look convinced. Instead, he just clenched and unclenched his fists a few times. Seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

“Maybe – it would help if you talked about it.” Sonic suggested, trying to take Maddie’s words into account. “I mean – if you want to.” He added uncertainly. Honestly, with only a few short years of experience under his belt, he could be forgiven for being kind of bad at this whole ‘talking to people,’ thing. But if nothing else, he and Knuckles could find a shared understanding of each other through the loneliness they had each experienced, as well as their desire to find companionship.

“I – I’m not exactly sure how to explain it.” Knuckles admitted after a minute and went quite again. And, for a time, Sonic thought that he wasn’t going to try and found himself struggling over whether to push or let it go.

Thankfully, their resident emotional compass was there to help the process along. “Maybe just start at the beginning.” Tails suggested warmly and the echidna looked up at him for a moment, then back at his hands.

It was then that Sonic realized the real problem. Knuckles knew he needed to talk about it, he wasn’t stupid, but his isolation had left him unable to do so. Now it had been so long that he just didn’t know how to address it and, what’s worse, he was ashamed. To a stubborn warrior like him, he knew how childish this fear must seem to others, but yet he couldn’t fight it. And that shame made him want to close the bottle again, giving it even more pressure, which would only make the unavoidable explosion that much more devastating.

Trying to bridge the gap, Sonic just said the one thing he sometimes still needed to hear himself. "You're not alone." He said softly and finally, Knuckles looked up, a hint of rarely seen vulnerability in his eyes, then he took a deep breath and spoke.

“Do you recall the owl’s temple on the mountain of snow?” That was unexpected, but Sonic still considered the question.

“You mean where we found the compass?” He asked and Knuckles nodded. “What about it?”

“The murals there. Did you see them?”

Sonic and Tails looked at each other, recalling the stone walls and their story of the creation of the Master Emerald. “Yeah.” Tails answered after a moment, just as confused as Sonic at this point.

“There was one, a depiction of an ancient warrior that once used the Emerald to drive back an invading army.” Knuckles explained and the other two winced a tad, recalling that rather distressing image. “That warrior – was my direct ancestor. Enerjak. In many ways, the power that flowed through him on that day – now flows through me.”

“Oh.” Sonic murmured, honestly unsure how to feel about that and was still confused as to what this had to do with anything. But again, Tails came to his rescue.

“So that’s where your chaos powers came from?” He asked quietly and Knuckles nodded. “I always wondered.” The kid admitted but held back from pushing the topic any further.

“What the murals did not show – was the aftermath of that battle.” The echidna finally continued. “As its Guardian, Enerjak was able to do what many could not. Harness both halves of the Emerald’s power at once.”

“What do you mean?” Sonic found himself asking, despite knowing he should interrupt. But Knuckles explained anyway.

“Chaos comes in two very distinct forms. Negative and Positive. The Emerald acks as a kind of fail-safe. To prevent a single person from gaining too much power, only one form can be accessed at a time.” He said simply. “When Robotnik used its power, he channeled only the negative. When you did so, it was the positive.”

“Oh.” Sonic murmured, having not actually realized that until just now, but he supposed it made sense.

“But – Enerjak was different?” Tails asked and Knuckles nodded, seemingly a little lost in his own thoughts for a moment, thus allowing the fox to ponder another question. “And – does that mean you could do that too?”

“Theoretically, yes.” Knuckles stated, coming out of his thoughts again, though he did so with a kind of shiver. “Though I would very much never like to try.” He admitted, and that more than anything made the other two nervous, for what came next. “In order to save our clan from complete annihilation, Enerjak called on its power. However, whether his cause was worthy or not – it did not save him.” He took another breath to steady himself, before continuing. “He was driven to pure madness.”

Sonic felt himself cringe inwardly, suddenly realizing why Knuckles never wanted to use the Emerald himself, despite arguably having the most right to do so. This also explained why the echidna had been so cautious when Sonic had taken on his golden god form. He had been afraid that the same thing had happened again – in fact, he had to wonder just how close he had been to that fate.

Suddenly feeling squeamish, he looked up to ask, despite not really wanting to know, only to find Knuckles eyes meeting his own, clearly thinking the same thing. However, the echidna’s calm deminer helped him to relax again. He’d not only forced the Emerald out of Robotnik’s body, but had basically put the thing back together again, a few minutes later. Surely, he could have handled a rampaging hedgehog, if he’d had to.

Eventually Knuckles turned away, clearly content that their silent conversation had had its desired effects. “In the beginning, Enerjak’s insanity wasn’t immediately noticeable.” He continued after another minute. “He led our clan to reclaim the Emerald, but they did not realize his only goal was to restore his own power.” He looked away, unusually calm considering the discussion. “It was his leadership that led my people to war with the owls. Even long after his death.” Sonic found himself no longer wanting to talk about this particular topic, but didn’t interrupt, as his friend moved on as well. “In the end, his insanity nearly drove my kind to extinction. He had to be stopped, and the only way to do so was to trap him in the chaos void.”

“What’s that?” Sonic interrupted anyway, before he could stop himself. But thankfully, Knuckles looked relieved to have a change of topic.

“Think of it like an invisible sheet over the universe. It is where all chaos energy comes from. At times, holes will form in this sheet and when the pure power of that void meets our world, a chaos emerald is formed. This is what Enerjak was trying to do. He wanted to create a hole and, with himself in place of an emerald – he’d become a god.”

Both Sonic and Tails winced at that. They could only imagine the kind of destruction someone like that could cause if they reached godhood. Even Eggman’s brief time with the emerald looked almost peaceful by comparison. And that was not a pleasant thought.

“He was stopped. However, he had his – followers.” He explained further, and Sonic roiled his eyes. ‘Yeah, that figured.’ “When I was born, I showed immediate signs of chaos powers, beyond anything my clan had ever seen. They grew concerned that I was his reincarnation, and they feared the possibility of Enerjak’s return. There were honest discussions of simply killing me, just to be safe.”

“Say what?” Sonic proclaimed in horror and his friend finally looked up from the floor, as if shocked that this had gotten such a strong reaction. However, he recovered and smiled at the hedgehog.

“My father vehemently opposed this decision, of course. And his brother, the chief, backed him.” He explained calmly, only to slowly look back at the ground. “There were those that did not agree, and – there were those with – other agendas.

The room went quiet, as Knuckles stopped talking and Sonic and Tails looked at one another again, before the hedgehog leaned forward. “Knucks, are you okay?” He asked worriedly, which seemed to pull him out of the memory a bit.

“If you don’t want to talk about it – you don’t have to.” Tails insisted, but the echidna shook his head, clearly determined to get the rest off his chest. As he soon closed his eyes and took another breath, then continued.

“There was a man, a secret worshiper of Enerjak.” He said, pausing for another second, then shook himself out of it again. “To this day – I cannot remember following him. I just – woke up and I had no idea where I was. He wouldn’t talk to me, he was too busy preforming his ritual and I couldn’t escape, I could barely stand. The energies in the cave were so – corrupt they made me sick. Then I began to – see things. People. People I soon realized were not actually alive.”

Knuckles sighed loudly and leaned back on his hands to look at the sky through the circular window in the ceiling. Like he needed the reassurance that he wasn’t back in that cave. “Then I saw him. Enerjak.” He whispered, seemingly speaking more to himself than them. “I’d heard stories of him, of course. But nothing could prepare me for what I saw. He was – cold. Terrifying. And, somehow, I knew he was there to kill me.”

When he went quiet again, clearly stuck in the memory, Tails reached over to gently touch his shoulder, and he jumped. Prompting Sonic to stand up and sit on his other side, so, he’d have even more contact to prove that he wasn’t alone. But neither of them spoke, there wasn’t really a need.

“In a way. I was right.” He finally spoke again. “It was explained to me later, that the ritual had opened – a hole in my soul. A door, if you will. If the process had been allowed to continue, Enerjak would have forced me out of my own body, to trade places with him. I would have been trapped forever in the chaos void, as he had been. But my father had noticed my absence. They tracked the man to the cave and stopped him, just in time.”

Sonic felt like he could suddenly breathe again, but the tension hadn’t quite subsided. “The ritual was stopped, but – the door remained.” Knuckles went on, slowly lifting a hand to touch his chest, like he could actually feel it there. “I’ve been susceptible to spirits since that day. I still see them everywhere I go. And, though I have had – some positive experiences. My old Chief has often come to me in my times of need.” He clutched his chest fur just a little tighter, as he stared back at the floor. “They can – sense the door and if they feel so inclined, they will try to – enter.”

Tails and Sonic winced again, as that certainly did not sound pleasant. “But – they can’t – take over – can they?” Tails asked worriedly and thankfully their friend looked up to smile at him reassuringly and shook his head. Leaving them both to breathe a sigh of relief.

“That being said.” Knuckles continued quietly, and the sudden fear in his voice made the room’s temperature drop by a couple degrees. “He – still lingers, at the edges of my sight. He waits for the moment that the final pieces of the interrupted ritual are set back into motion. If that should ever happen –” He froze, the words getting stuck in his throat, but they didn’t need him to finish. Sonic and Tails were already completely distressed, trying to imagine one of the people they cared about the most being hunted by a literal god.

“Gees.” Sonic complained, rubbing at his quills, suddenly immensely irritated with himself. “Now I feel like a total jerk.” He looked up to meet his friend’s gaze and found himself practically begging for forgiveness. “Knux, I – I’m so sorry. I – I –”

Before he could completely break down, Knuckles reached over to lay his hand on the hedgehog’s shoulder. “I forgive you.” He said simply and Sonic felt like a planet had just been lifted off his chest. “Besides.” He spoke up again, his smile returning, though it looked much more genuine than it had before. “If he should return – I will not face him alone.”

Sonic perked up at that, and smiled as well, before they were interrupted by Tails suddenly throwing his arms around the echidna’s waste. “No – you won’t.” He whispered, his voice cracking as tears welled up in his eyes and his hold got just a little tighter, causing Knuckles to gently place a hand on his head, clearly unsure what to do. He wasn’t exactly accustomed to this kind of emotional show of affection.

But he’d just have to get used to it, cause Sonic quickly threw his arms around him too. “Never again.” He promised and together, the two practically crushed their older brother. Until he finally had no choice but to give in and gently rested his arms around them both and brought them in closer.

…

The End

#@year-of-the-echidna #knuckles wachowski #knuckles the echidna #sonic the hedgehog #miles tails prower #maddie wachowski #ghostbusters

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faeryseiko · 2 days ago

Text

Ahead of me || Katsuki Bakugo

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A/N: Hi ! I haven't wrote since 2022 so I'm sorry if this one sucks but please take the time and tell me your thoughts on this one !! It is a song lyrics based fic, I LOVE the quirk I just cooked and might do an AO3 story with it...

WARNINGS : season 7 BIG SPOILERS. death, blood.

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Muffled screams, tears running down soft cheeks.

"If I could, I'd be your little spoon"...

I looked as Shigaraki threw Bakugo's body like an useless doll that he didn't want to play with anymore. My heart was beating strongly fast in my chest. I got up on my feet and ran to his side, sliding on my knees as I did so. I started to scratch my arms, the red powder falling on the hole of his chest.

Quirk name : Philosopher's stone

I kept scratching, normally it wouldn't even take a second before healing. But it didn't this time. I felt my own blood rolling on my arm and saw it going to mix with his on his chest. I heard Best Jeanist next to me as he just saw the student he taught yet learned so much from.

"No. No no nonononono" I started to panic as my eyes watered down. I was shaking a corpse, trying to wake it up. I put my forehead on his and was breathing uncontrollably.

"Y/n-san, with you around, we will not be scared of our injuries anymore. I know we can count on you !"

I remembered Izuku's words, now stabbing me as I felt useless again in my life. My best friend was lifeless before me and I couldn't even bring him back or save him.

My quirk wasn't a flashy one, nor did it help for defense. I had to work harder to prove myself worthy of being a hero. The number of times I felt useless watching my class fight as I could only stand watching on the sidelines. I hate it, I'm thankful for Aizawa that have let me show my worth.

"Your quirk is special, Y/n. Great sacrifices and hard work will have to be done to reach it's full potential."

I was shaking, taking his numb upperbody on my knees as I carressed his cheek with my thumb. His beautiful crimson eyes were now turned a pale pink color and his mouth gaped open to show the last breath he took. I let my forehead fall on his chest.

. . .

"One day, I'll become number one and will beat all bad guys like All Might !"

It was one of these times where Bakugo and I's parents would hang out and we would play in the park together. We were on top of the slides as we practiced our hero poses while laughing.

"I'm excited to see my quirk so I can now start ny hero journey, aren't you Bakugo?" I asked with a smile and to this he nodded with a proud smile.

"I already know mine will be awesome ! You'll just have to wait and see. It'll be so strong that it will surpass even All Might and AH-"

I jolted in surprise and panicked as I saw Bakugo fall from the slide's top. I carefully went down and sat down next to him. He winced in pain as he was holding his arm. After a few seconds, a blue color was appearing and that's when I knew it was broken.

"Bakugo, y-your arm-"

"Shut up I know !"

He tried to not let his tears fall and when I saw this, that's when I suddenly took his arm. I don't know how this happened... Even today, I am not able to reproduce what I did that day, but when I touched his arm, his arm healed itself, but in the process broking mine completely.

Bakugo smiled as he saw his new and healed arm.

"Y/n! Your quirk it finally came-"

His eyes widened, seeing me holding my arm in pain. His smile disappeared and I don't know what he thought at that time. That I had an useless quirk ? That I was pathetic ?

. . .

That day was my quirk's first appearance and I couldn't understand how I did it. I had the properties of a stone made with alchemy. Yet, I couldn't understand them exactly.

"And kiss your fingers forevermore..."

But then, it clicked.

I gently lift up Bakugo and hugged his figure, closing my eyes in the process. I focused on him, I had to.

"but big spoon, you have so much to do..."

Water filled my eyes as I sobbed, hugging him tightly, knowing this was my first and last.

....

I remember when I saw Bakugo and Deku fight against eachother, their first fight when they were teammed up with Uraraka and Iida. I looked in awe at both strenght.

Even though Izuku used to be quirkless, he showed himself worthy for All Might to give his quirk. Bakugo was mad and confused at the time, mad that Izuku had showed up randomly one day with a quirk that was strong. And confused on how it happened.

I was selfish to think that... but with Izuku I felt less alone next to Bakugo with his amazingly strong quirk. I had to work extra harder and might never catch up to them.

I also remember at the festival, against Kirishima I was nothing but an easy target. I have cried that day so hard, I even wondered what I was doing at U.A and why I stayed. Also on why our teacher kept me.

Aizawa taught Shinsou and I to still be strong even with a quirk that didn't give us boosted strenght, rapidity or stamina.

I have made so many good friends at U.A, but I knew that if for whatever reason someone had to leave, they had too much potential, too many hopes and dreams for it to be them.

"And I have nothing ahead of me..."

I have made so many great memories, so many. I felt my chest getting lighter and breathing turned so easy to do. Weights on my shoulder turned into empty ones, you know that feeling before falling asleep ?

And as my chest softly stopped to move, I felt against my ear a heartbeat. By now, I was too weak to great him happily like I usually do.

I wish we had more time, more time for me ask for his help for math homework, more time for him to look behind him to look at me, as if having me helped feeling more confident.

Or more time for me to go shopping one last time with Mina, one more time for Shinsou and I to proudly look at our better fighting forms, one more time to play video games with the squad.

More time so I can admire the developpment Bakugo has made on himself.

Maybe, I can finally be useful to you, Katsuki ?

....

Bakugo's eyes opened softly as he heard Best Jeanist yelling out someone's name. Surprisingly, it wasn't his.

The pain he had felt on his chest left and the blood disappeared, he still felt some weight on his chest. He had a hard time moving, but when he looked down, he saw your h/c hair, your normally e/c vibrant eyes that were now closed forever.

He would call you a dumbass, but he knew you wouldn't hear him this time. He would call you a selfless idiot, because since the day you had your quirk, the coolest quirk he've seen in terms of healing, that's just who you've become.

His eyes watered down. He focused so much onto catching up with Deku that he hasn't looked behind him at the person who destroyed themselves just to catch up to him.

And now, it was too late for him to simply catch your hand to help you run with him.

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song : Your Best American Girl - Mitski.

#bnha angst #bnha requests #bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugo katsuki #mha katsuki bakugo #mha x reader #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #bnha oneshot #bakugo oneshot #katsuki bakugo mha #katsuki bakugou x reader

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cute-little-fly · 2 days ago

Note

Is there any good reason why Stolas didn’t divorce Stella after they had Octavia?

There are a few reasons I can think of.

First, we know the marriage was loveless and bad from the start, arranged since they were kids and forced. But I don’t see why Stolas would think that he should divorce from the start, since that is not common for their social class and society (Andrealphus mentioned this when they are signing the divorce, that this is a very uncommon case in the Goetia family).

Marry for love is a concept that hasn’t been present in all ages and in all societies as it is today in the western world. Some people have ended up loving the person they are arranged with, or they have managed to have a happy life with them, even if there is no love. Others have ended up marrying not the person they love but someone else they have a good relationship with (like lavender marriages), and they are not 100% happy… but they manage to live a peaceful and good life with the other person. Some of them even negotiate seeing other people outside of the marriage, others don’t and perhaps they always silently carry a cross. Some arranged or forced marriages end up being a nightmare too. But they just keep appearances.

Where do I want to take this? That Stolas trying to make the marriage work at the start is not a uncommon or ilogical thing. Is the thing that would carry less issues to him, the family and his daughter. You can see that when Octavia was little they even shared a bed. So, maybe the marriage wasn’t as hostile as it is now since the start. But the issues where already there… we can see Stella far away from Stolas, taking all the sheets for her and leaving him colder.

In this same scene Stolas tries to make Stella more involved with Octavia’s raising. But Stella doesn’t want to, and he sighs like this is a common thing. He wants her to be with him in those moments, because since he didn’t had a present father and seemingly his mother wasn’t there (for some reason we don’t know), probably he wanted Octavia to have both of her parents present.

So, basically here we are seeing what Stolas says here:

Probably Stella started to turn more and more difficult with the years. Eventually they stopped sleeping together, or trying to have the family. Now, why Stolas didn’t divorved when things were more worse? At the start he tried to give Octavia a normal family life. But now, why?

Well, this might be a case when things start to get slowly worse and you just accept it as part of things, slowly normalize it even if it starts to harm you (like the analogy of the frog in the slowly heating water). At the same time Stolas started to get his depression, because all the abuse endured; and when Blitzø comes into his life, again he has given up happiness as a possibility for him. At all.

If you think about it, the reason why he ends up divorcing Stella is when he sees that the situation makes Blitzø feel bad and impedes them to be able to pursue something beyond the deal they have. He does it more for Blitzø and the possibility of them having a relationship than he does for himself. He wouldn’t have done it if Blitzø didn’t came into his life, because he had already accepted that was his reality.

This is why he says Blitzø is his light. Because it made him feel strong after a lot of time of feeling powerless. He made him feel alive after a lot of time of being dead in life.

I don’t know if these count as good reasons, but, they have been the ones the show have given so far and for me they make sense enough.

#helluva boss #stolitz #stolas #stolas goetia #blitzø #helluva boss stolas #blitzo #octavia goetia #helluva stella #stella goetia #helluva analysis

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yuamusuzuran · 2 days ago

Text

The Dragon & the Foreseer who loved him

Pairing: Sylus x Zayne/ SnowCrow

Chp word count: 2212

Rating: Mature to Explicit at times/ Minors DNI!

Tags for the whole fic: soulmates, canon divergence, reincarnation, M/M, fluff, smut, angst, romance, drama, tragedy (but they get better), initial top!Sylus/bottom Zayne but later they become a switch

Tags for this chapter: references to SnowCrow myths, canon divergence, kidnapping, Sylus has dragon anatomy through and through

ENJOY!

CHAPTER 1 - I have not foreseen you coming for me

The cold... Zayne was accustomed to it all too well.

As his eyelids flickered open for a single moment, he couldn’t be sure how much time had passed since he was last conscious. It could’ve a few minutes; it could’ve been days, months even… or maybe years. He was never really sure…

Zayne inhaled slowly, the sharp and cold air filling his lungs as the ice surrounding him crackled at even a minor movement.

To a bystander, he might’ve appeared stuck in the clutches of merciless ice, but if he had to be honest… he could raise from his chair at any given moment.

He just didn’t want to. There was no use, as he already knew when the royal envoy will soon pay him a visit, asking about the destiny of the kingdom, and all of its individuals.

Zayne could see it all so clearly, his mind never quiet or at ease, the rest of his already long life playing before his eyes in sequence of hundred visions.

He could feel his eyebrows twitch as he adjusted his sitting position, the marble throne under him enclosed in ice, like everything in his surroundings.

This was the fate of Foreseer of Astra, who only existed to bring news and hope to the people of Philos.

From the moment he was chosen to be the Almighty Astra’s voice, Zayne knew his fate was never to live a normal life… or to live at all.

He had already seen it all, clearly, as if it was set in stone.

And thus, there was no use in remaining conscious, at least for the next year or so.

Zayne closed his eyes again, the ice enclosing its chilly grip on his entire body.

The visions of the future started playing in his mind again, showing him many lives which he could only observe and foretell, without ever getting a chance to live through these moments himself.

Such was a life… of a Foreseer…

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Dragons were always thought to wreak havoc upon humanity wherever they lived… at least, that’s what the people of Philos believed.

With them gone for more than five hundred years, citizens of this prosperous kingdom believed there to be no threat that they have posed so many years ago. And yet, most of them were blissfully unaware of the beast that was trapped in the deepest parts of the royal dungeon.

The dragon hissed quietly through his teeth, his hearing being the only sense with which he experienced the world around him.

Every other part of his body was bound, his long tail nailed down to the stone floor, thick chains with boulders on their end holding his arms spread out and tense. The massive boulder was strapped on the beasts’ back, forcing him to remain in a perpetual kneeling posture, his massive wings nailed and chained around the same block of stone that held him down. His eyes were covered with blindfold made of coldest iron, the piece connected to a muzzle that kept his mouth shut at all times.

All the dragon could do was breathe and absorb nutrition via a thick needle someone would always stab him with, every now and then…

But people of Philos, and its royal family grew arrogant.

They’ve destroyed, slaughtered his kind so many years ago… they didn’t even remember dragon’s true nature.

The wounded and trapped dragon was the most dangerous kind… especially when it had the time to harness its own, always-growing power.

As he took another breath, the dragon listened.

The guards have changed recently… and judging by their distant footsteps, they were on one of their many patrols.

With the biggest amount of effort, the dragon moved his head to the side, a small hole in his blindfold being more than enough for him to notice a dim light of torches in the distance.

Soon enough, two guards appeared in his limited field of vision.

The dragon smiled.

As one of the guards gave him a single glance whilst holding a torch, the beast focused all of his energy into a single, hypnotic gaze.

Expectedly, the guard stopped, dead in his tracks, as if frozen solid in place.

Someone didn’t listen to his teacher, the dragon thought, his smile widening.

In a matter of moments, the torch the young guard was holding was thrown across the circular chamber, landing directly behind the dragon’s bound tail.

He could hear the other guard yelling and scolding his entranced comrade, but there was nothing he could do at that point.

Using the very tip of his tail, the dragon connected with the small flame, the fiery power immediately coursing through his body.

The energy shifted inside him, making fire’s energy even more intense as it melted away the binds on his tail, the long appendage swaying left and right before being used to cut open the very chains that held his wings in place.

The dragon continued to smile as the panicked footsteps and yells echoed above him, thankful for the fact that his guards employed enough reckless people for this to succeed.

They really became an arrogant race…

With his wings free, the dragon was easily able to get rid of the boulder that sat on top of his back, every bone and joint in his body cracking once he stood back on his feet.

He let out a loud groan, the relief so intense it made the beast laugh as loudly as his muzzle allowed him.

All of a sudden, the entire tower lit up with the power of thousand torches, the humans attempting to use every trick in the book in order to distract him and hold him in place.

But… this iron blindfold and a muzzle were the only tools he needed… and they were the ones who gave him these tools freely.

The dragon spread his large wings as much as he could, causing him to promptly ascend into the air while still being chained up to two huge boulders.

Flipping both of his wrists, the beast harnessed the fiery power he had absorbed moments ago and channeled it into his binds, the cuffs coming off in the next moment and clanking on the floor.

With his arms finally free, the dragon reached up for the muzzle and loosened it up ever so slightly, never taking it completely off as his wings carried him up the tower.

He could hear hundreds of panicked guards yelling and running in formation on every level of the tower, the sound of their weapons, arrows and explosives being so clear the dragon didn’t even need to see them to know their location.

And even though his flying skills became slightly rusty in the past five hundred years, he was still able to withstand the occasional hit or two.

But what the guards didn’t expect was him to absorb the energy of the firearms and weapons that had hit him… and shoot that same energy right back at them, but tenfold.

When left to their own devices, even when immobile, dragons are always able to increase their level of power just by channeling it from within, from their own hatred, anger, and wish for vengeance.

And this dragon had plenty of it to go around…

As he continued to ascend, the ancient beast used up all of the power he had harnessed, making the very space around him feel heavy and suffocating.

He then removed the muzzle, letting out the loudest, earth-shattering yell any of those humans have ever witnessed.

The mere vibration of his cry made the whole structure shake, floors and levels crumbling under the force of his power and pulled down by the gravity.

As the light slowly dimmed out, the dragon was finally able to remove his eye covering, revealing a pair of deeply crimson, glowing eyes.

Harnessing his power once again, the beast directed both of his hands towards the metal ceiling, not even multiple layers of glass able to contain him in this prison any longer.

Another explosion echoed through the night, horrified and pained screams of his guards and torturers becoming music to his ears.

And now, after more than five hundred years, the dragon was finally able to breathe in the fresh, night air.

As his menacing figure floated over the capital city of Philos, he knew there was no time for sentimentality or staying around for too long.

These humans maybe relaxed with his imprisonment for the past centuries, but one thing the dragon knew about their species was that they were adaptable.

They will promptly find a way to hunt him down and bring him back to the dungeon… and that was something he wasn’t willing to experience ever again.

Thus… he needed a strategy, a way to evade all of their future capturing attempts.

The dragon landed on the top of the tower he had just fled from, observing humans beneath running around and regrouping, each house in the capital coming alive after the intense commotion.

That’s when the dragon’s eyes caught a glimpse of something.

High up on the mountain with a snowy peak, stood breathtakingly white tower, as tall as the one he stood on.

Recalling many conversations he had heard over the centuries, the dragon smirked once again, the perfect plan forming in his mind.

With his wings spread and ready for flight, the beast took off, leaving behind the panicked little ants that will do anything to keep him confided for their own benefit.

But now, he will take something they consider important…

His flight was short, cloudy skies hiding his figure from most of the onlookers. And as he approached the massive tower on the snowy mountain, he realized it had no windows… aside from a massive, glassy dome at the very top of it.

Balling his hand into a fist, the dragon channeled his power, causing the dome to promptly explode and gain him access to the inside of the ominous yet beautiful structure.

The dragon landed inside, every inch of the main chamber covered in massive structures of sharp ice. He frowned, looking around at the empty space, not believing a human was actually able to live there, at least from what he had remembered.

But then he saw him.

At the far end of the chamber, on top of a set of marble stairs, sat a throne completely enclosed in ice.

On top of the throne, merged with the ice from head to toe, sat a human figure; his hair dark and short, dressed in gray robes and with a massive staff gripped in his right hand.

The dragon made his way up the stairs, soon stopping right before the legendary figure he only heard about.

The Foreseer of Astra, the one who could accurately predict one’s destiny, even the future of an entire nation.

Royal family always turned to him for guidance and received messages from their beloved god through the Foreseer… so; it was only an appropriate punishment for them to be stripped of that luxury.

With a widening smirk, the dragon reached down, his clawed hand about to grip the human’s neck… only for his eyes to suddenly open and look up at him.

Taken aback slightly, the dragon still closed his palm around his neck, the Foreseer only closing his eyes as if accepting his fate.

“Interesting…” the dragon purred, putting a slight pressure on the man’s neck “Humans usually scream and beg for mercy when they merely lay their eyes on me. And yet… you’re willing to die by my hand, just like that…”

The human took a deep breath, his voice as calm and cold as the ice he was surrounded with:

“I have not foreseen you coming for me… but if that’s how it’s supposed to be… do it quickly”

Dragon’s eyebrow twitched, the man relaxing under his grip as he released the staff from his hand, allowing it to fall to the floor with a loud clank.

Interesting, he thought, deciding to retrieve his arm.

A Foreseer willing to die because he believed it was his destiny… allowing himself to be enclosed in ice, until the next time someone dares to pay him a visit?

The dragon sighed, clicking his tongue in annoyance.

“It’s not entertaining to kill someone who seems to yearn for death…” he growled, prompting the Foreseer to look up at him again with confusion.

The reaction made the dragon laugh as he lowered himself to look the human directly in the eyes.

“Instead… I’ll make you my captive”

The Foreseer gasped and frowned, but before he could utter another word, the dragon stung him in the thigh with the tip of his tail, injecting him with a small amount of poison to put him to sleep.

The ice around the throne suddenly retreated, making the Foreseer’s body slump forward, right into dragon’s arms.

Chuckling, the beast picked the human up like a ragdoll before throwing him on his back, holding both of his hands around his own neck as he got ready for flight again.

As the capital of Philos continued to fall into panic and uproar, the lone dragon flew above the clouds, the unconscious Foreseer slumbering peacefully on his back…

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

TAG LIST: @rafayelsplushiekiller @jasmines-greentea @nezuswritingdesk @angelwhizpers @katiralovely @nothoughts-justzayne

THANK YOU ALL AND SEE YOU NEXT WEEKEND!

#snowcrow #love and deepspace sylus #zayne x sylus #lads zayne #lads sylus #fanfic #zayne #sylus #zayne love and deepspace #sylus love and deepspace

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umikawa · 2 days ago

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infatuated

a/n: listened to like four songs on repeat to write this haha (￣▽￣) I hope this is good!?? used penny and pete from tgm’s relationship as inspo lol <3

Stanley Snyder x gn!reader | 1.8k wc | warnings: on&off relationship (get it together!) alcohol consumption (ur in a bar, don’t waste it) smoking (it’s Stanley) maybe a bit ooc? I love yapping.

♫ infatuated / the royston club | flash in the pan / wallice | war / keshi | lullaby for you / greer

“Nice to see a familiar face here.”

You chuckle at the voice, smooth and deep, with the slightest southern drawl, familiar and warm. The person slides into the barstool beside you, nodding to the other person beside you with a glare.

Get away. Get lost. Don’t come back. The intention was obvious: to rid you of a flea you’d spend too much unnecessary time and attention on. He saved you the time, being in uniform, his purple lipstick painting a nasty (shit-eating) smirk on his lips. His appearance added to his intimidating personality.

“Scaring away my dates as per usual.” You laugh, downing the rest of your drink and flagging the bartender for another. “A beer too, please– Pabst.”

Stanley grins at the remembrance of his drink of choice, crossing his arms across his chest. “Taking your dates to our bar, sitting in our seats— as per usual.” He mocks your words with a scoff, tipping his head towards the bartender when they slide the beer to him. “Don’t have any other place to show your collection of love interests?”

“Don’t you have any other bar to go to?”

“Actually,” he starts, quickly swigging his beer. “This is the closest one to where I’m stationed, but you knew that, didn't you?”

You shrug, tracing the rim of your glass as you refuse to look at him. “Maybe I’m just eternally trapped here,” you said quietly, laughing softly at your own words. “It’s my own personal hell. Limbo, maybe.”

Stanley looks down the spout of his bottle, eerily shifting into the barrel of a gun the longer he stares at it. Was that supposed to be an unrelated metaphor? “Why do you keep holding on?”

You turned to him for the first time since he walked in. Your expression was almost deadpan, but Stanley knew how to read you: longing, resignation, guilt.

He didn’t understand the last one; you had no reason to be guilty. Your parting was solely because of him and his devotion to serve. He would lay down his life in war if he needed to, and you didn’t like that.

“Why do you want to let go?”

Stanley looks at you, really looks at you. Three key differences have changed since he last saw you.

For one, the bags under your eyes. You’d kill him for pointing it out. You always gave him shit for saying it— he was just concerned and didn’t know how to show it. Though you did have some the last time he saw you, they seemed to have worsened, emphasizing the darkened skin underneath your eyes. Have you not been sleeping well?

Two, your hair was longer. It would look the same to a normal person; nothing more than a few inches had been added to the ends of your hair, but Stanley could tell. Were you letting it grow? Or were you refusing to cut it because it was the last thing he touched before he left you again? He shouldn’t give himself so much credit, but hair holds memories.

Third, the lack of bite. Before, you’d shoot remark after remark with him, going on and on for hours on end until you were leaning against the counter with a defeated (sleepy) expression. But now, it was only blatant relinquishment: no fight, no argument, nothing.

“You truly think I want to let go, or that I have?” He keeps his eyes forward, zoning in on the bottles lined up in rows behind the bar. “Do you think you’re the only one that comes to this bar and sits in these seats, hoping the other will show up or already be here?”

Your hand comes up to your face with a quiet sigh, almost a whine, like you didn’t want this conversation to happen. “So you admit it, you feel the same… reluctancy as I do.”

Reluctance? To what? Let go?

“That’s one of the reasons we didn’t work out back then.” You glance at him lazily, eyes darting to the somehow visible stain of purple lipstick on the rim of his bottle. “We always bottled our emotions to save face for the other.”

“Couples therapists would’ve loved us.” He chuckles at your quick joke, taking a sip of his beer. “I guess somewhere along the lines, we got so used to bottling everything up that we started to hide our infatuation as well.” You pause momentarily, furrowing your brows while staring absentmindedly into your glass. “Even when we went to bed, we weren’t together. We were just…laying next to each other.”

Stanley hums, feeling his pocket for a cigarette—he really needs one right now. You spare him a glance but don’t say anything as he retracts his hand, silently waving to the bartender and sliding your card across the counter.

He opens his mouth to protest, but he was already too late when you put your card on the bar. So he keeps quiet, muttering to himself about his marine salary that would have paid your tab.

“It’s fine. Besides, I had a lot more than you did.” You reassured, slipping your card back into your wallet. “Let's go outside. You wanna smoke, don’t you?” He follows wordlessly as you walk out of the bar, taking the box of cigarettes from his coat the second he feels the cool air hit his skin.

Nothing was said between you two for a while—just a silent exchange of glances. The only sound was the exhale of breath that flew past Stanley’s lips occasionally. He’d passed the cigarette to you when he caught you eyeing it, laughing softly at the disgusted face you made after inhaling it.

“I’m glad I never picked up this habit from you.” Your voice strained as you held your coughs in. “How the hell did you pass the Marine inspection?”

“Tobacco isn’t a stimulant.”

“Are you dumb? It is. It’s literally nicotine.” He looks off the side, blinking down at the dimly lit stick in his grasp. “Stanley, come on.” You burst into laughter at his reaction, nearly keeling over when he drops the cigarette to the ground and squashes it with his shoe.

He freezes when he feels your hand holds the side of his face, fingers brushing against his buzzed sides. “What happened to that smart-ass brain of yours, huh?”

Why were you being so casual when moments ago you looked like you wanted a hole to open up beneath you and swallow you? So that you could avoid the prying question of what could’ve been?

“It got fried,” he says, a blank expression on his face. He couldn’t focus with your warm touch against his skin. “Being a marine isn’t easy, you know?” Your thumb starts to brush against his cheek, and Stanley has to fight every power within him not to shut his eyes in content.

“I bet.”

Silence looms over the two of you again. Your palm is still planted on his cheek, and his eyes fluttered shut a second ago—much to his dismay and to your amusement. But before he could continue to savor the feeling of your warmth properly, your hand starts to slip away slowly, and Stanley starts to feel…

Reminiscent.

He’s quick to latch his fingers around your wrist before you can pull away entirely, holding it near his head while you stare at him with wide eyes. He didn’t know what he was doing, nor did you, but Stanley didn’t stop himself when he began pulling you closer, and you didn’t make any effort to pull away when his face was inches from yours.

Just before his lips press against yours, he whispers out. “Do you want this?” A faint nod, almost like hesitation. Then another, firm and confident. Stanley would’ve preferred you use your words, but he dismisses it this time, not wasting another second before he presses his lips to yours.

You sigh through your nose when he kisses you, hands traveling to his neck, holding his jaw delicately, bringing him closer to you with each passing second.

Then, Stanley gets desperate.

His movements become sloppy, uncharacteristic for a man as poised as him, who was ever the perfectionist. His mind was fuzzy, eyes screwed shut as he tried to compose himself before you could pull away.

Stanley was terrified, and he didn’t know how to handle it.

His hand moved to your waist, gripping tightly like he was afraid to lose you again, and maybe he was right to feel that way— because it always ended like that.

He’d have you in his grasp, and then he’d get dragged back to reality before you could indulge in the feeling. But Stanley never held tight enough to keep you bound to him. That was his fault. That’s why you never stayed. Because Stanley could never commit the way you wanted– or hoped.

“I’m leaving tomorrow.” He whispers when he pulls away, resting his head against yours while clutching the fabric of your jacket tightly. “I won’t be here for a few months, but when I come back– will you let me come home to you?”

When you look at him, there’s a clear emotion written on his face. One that he’d never shown much before, one that he kept bottled up in fear of judgment.

Vulnerability.

“It always ends the same with us, Stanley.” His eyes shut as you spoke, saying the words he wished you hadn’t. “I don’t know if I can handle watching you leave again.”

“I won't.” He shakes his head, “I couldn’t let you go when I didn’t even have you. Your name is engraved in my heart and soul.”

A soft chuckle comes from you suddenly. Stanley doesn’t understand why. “I never knew you could be so romantic.”

“Let’s focus on the topic at hand, shall we?” He prompts with a light snort. “Will you wait for me?”

A quiet hum follows his question. It's almost like you’re trying to torment him with your silence. “I’ll wait forever and a day, Stanley.” You answer, fixing his collar to occupy your hands. “Even if we break up two weeks in, you’re worth it.”

He shakes his head. As if he was going to let you go again.“When I come back, I’m yours forever.”

You sigh, filled with faux despair. “What a nightmare.” Stanley grins at your remark, holding your chin as he presses a long kiss to your lips. “Oh, I’m already dreading it.” He hums softly, lips curling into a smile when you bump your nose against his.

“We’ll make it work.” He says suddenly, though it sounds more of a promise to himself than a declaration to you.

You glance at him, an almost pained smile on your face. “I know.”

“I love you.”

He’s met with wide eyes holding a glimmer of hope and a touch of love. But, Stanley nearly takes his words back and scoffs to himself at your response.

“I know.”

a/n: I was watching sw… that explains the ending.. sorry… also no idea if Pabst is a good beer, just heard it in a song

#stanley snyder x reader #drst x reader #dcst x reader #dr stone x reader #stanley snyder x gn reader #stanley snyder imagines #stan snyder x reader #dr stone x y/n #stanley snyder x y/n

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sunflowersonatas · 21 hours ago

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TOO GOOD TO BE FAKE: CHAPTER 5

JAMES POTTER X F!READER

a/n: YAYYYY CHAPTER 5 OUT EARLY!!! i've been so so appreciative of all the love for this series 🥹 i figured it was the least i could do to get my ass up and edit the rest of it. hehehehe enjoyyyyy!!! ☀️🌻

series page for prev chapters

wc: 2197

5: Too Good to Be Fake

— 1 —

The next few days pass in a blur, and my real life and my fake life begin to meld all the same.

It’s subtle at first—little things, easy things. James slinging an arm over my shoulder in the corridor, without thinking about it, his hand drifting naturally to my waist when we squeeze through crowds. Me leaning into his touch on instinct, him whispering a joke just for me in class, both of us laughing too effortlessly.

The stares haven’t stopped. The whispers haven’t faded.

But somehow, I don’t care as much anymore.

Or maybe—I don’t care why they’re watching.

It’s not just the school anymore, though. It’s our friends. Alice and Jade don’t even try to hide their amusement anymore. Sirius has started giving James looks. Remus has started watching me.

Lily Evans has started paying more attention, too.

It’s another Saturday when I realize how far I’ve let this go: Quidditch practice.

I would never normally go to these. I’ve never had a reason to sit in the stands, watching a group of sweaty Gryffindors hurl themselves through the sky while screaming at each other.

But today, I’m here.

I keep telling myself it’s for appearances. People have to see me invested, have to see me acting like a real girlfriend. I bring a book, find a spot on the stands, fold my legs beneath me, and pretend I’m not watching James too closely.

I tell myself it’s just part of the plan. Making it look believable.

And then Lily arrives.

She doesn’t sit. She stands at the base of the stands, arms folded across her chest, gaze fixed on the pitch. I know who she’s watching, everyone does.

James cuts through the sky like he was born to be there, all fluid motion and instinct, his windswept hair a perfect mess, his body moving with a confidence that’s utterly effortless. The sun glints off his grin, bright and reckless, like he’s drunk on the thrill of it, and I feel that familiar lurch within me again—something warm, something unsteady, curling deep in my stomach before I can shove it away.

Lily tilts her head slightly.

Then, she glances back at me; and suddenly, it’s not just a game anymore. She’s watching me watch him. A challenge, a test.

Suddenly, I realize—this isn’t about her anymore. It’s not about making her jealous, and it’s not about Simon either. Because the thing unnerving me the most isn’t that Lily Evans is watching me.

It’s that James Potter hasn’t looked at her once.

— 2 —

The courtyard is quiet in the early evening, the last flickers of sunlight stretching long across the stone pathways. The air is crisp, cool enough to wake me up a little, but not cold enough to be uncomfortable. I tell myself that’s why I’m lingering here instead of heading back to the dorms.

Not because I’m waiting for him, and not because I know he’ll find me. But then he does.

James’ footsteps are easy to recognize—a little too confident, a little too deliberate, like he’s always walking into a room expecting something fun to happen. But here, now, he doesn’t say anything right away. He just falls into steps beside me, hands tucked into his pockets, like this is normal. Like it’s always been normal.

I glance at him. “What are you doing?”

James shrugs. “Dunno. Seemed like you wanted company.”

I huff, turning my gaze back to the darkening sky. “Oh, right. I always exude warmth and openness.”

James chuckles, nudging my arm. “You say that, but you haven’t told me to leave yet.”

I don’t respond. Because… he’s right.

The pause stretches, the courtyard filled only with the sound of leaves rustling in the breeze. For a second, while it’s just the two of us, walking in relative silence, it’s nice. Easy. Comfortable in a way I don’t have time to question.

Then James exhales, a little deeper than necessary, and leans against the railing beside me.

“You know,” he says, “you’re kind of terrible at taking a compliment.” His tone is too light, too airy for the kind of comment he’d just made.

I frown, caught off guard. “What?”

His gaze flickers to mine, and something in his expression softens—just slightly, but enough that it throws me off balance. “I mean, when I do something nice, you just… get awkward and run away.”

I blink at him. “That is— so not true.”

James lifts an eyebrow. “Oh? So last week when I said you looked nice, and you immediately knocked over your drink and changed the subject, what was that?”

I open my mouth— close it.

He smirks. “Exactly.”

I turn my face and look down the path we’re following, blinking, genuinely considering. “You just catch me off guard, that’s all.”

“Right,” he says sarcastically, “because the idea of me being nice to you is so shocking.”

“Yes, actually,” I quip, but the words come out lighter than I mean them to.

And that’s when James does something dangerous.

He shifts closer—just a little, just enough. His shoulder brushes mine, his voice lower now, softer. “You know, I like being nice to you.”

My stomach twists—thrilled, unsteady, completely betraying me. I let out a laugh, too quick, too high-pitched, a little too obviously forced.

James watches me, expression unreadable, but there’s something knowing in his gaze, something patient, like he’s waiting for me to catch up to something he’s already figured out.

“Alright,” I say, pushing away from the railing, not letting this get any more real than it already is, not letting myself think too hard about it. “This has been fun, but I’m going to—”

“Walk away before you have to acknowledge that you actually like me?” James finishes for me, eyes glinting with amusement.

I huff, already turning on my heel. “Exactly.”

I don’t get very far. James is right behind me, catching up too easily, too effortlessly, like he always does. “Merlin, if you wanted me to chase you, you could’ve just asked. Would’ve saved us both some time.”

I throw him a glance over my shoulder, my lips curving just enough to make his eyes flicker. "Where’s the fun in that? I like to keep you on your toes, Potter."

James huffs, but the way he watches me—like he's already planning his next move—sends something dangerously close to excitement skittering through me.

We’re walking towards one of the large entrances to the castle from the courtyard— there are some more students around now to witness our little interaction. He’s still beside me, still too close, still too smug.

“So what I’m hearing,” he muses, tilting his head, “is that you like me exactly where I am.”

I roll my eyes, but I don’t speed up. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

James only grins, falling into step beside me like he belongs there. “Too late.”

— 3 —

The castle is cooler in the evening, the last remnants of daylight casting long shadows through the stone archways. The halls are quieter now, but not empty—the low murmur of conversation lingers, footsteps echo in different directions, and clusters of students drift toward their common rooms, pausing now and then to whisper as James and I pass. My footsteps sync with his, the weight of his presence beside me something I’ve stopped questioning. It’s been like this all week—effortless, natural, dangerously easy. And maybe that’s why I don’t notice her at first. Maybe that’s why I don’t realize we have an audience until it’s too late.

Lily Evans is waiting just inside the entrance hall.

She’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed, posture relaxed, but there’s something unreadable in her expression. She isn’t blocking our path, isn’t doing anything at all, really—just watching. Watching us. Her gaze flickers between me and James, taking in the casual way we’re walking together, how close we are, the way his fingers brush against my wrist when he gestures absentmindedly.

She sees it all.

James notices her just a second after I do, and though his steps falter, it’s barely noticeable. I feel the shift in his presence, the way something in him tightens, like he’s bracing for impact. But when Lily finally speaks, her voice is light, almost gossiping, like she’s indulging a passing curiosity rather than confirming something she already suspects.

"You know," she says, tilting her head slightly, "you two make sense together. I see it."

And James—James preens.

I see it happen in real time. The way his shoulders straighten, the way his lips curve just slightly at the edges. It’s instinctive, automatic, like some deeply ingrained part of him just got the validation he never even thought to ask for. He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t check my reaction. He just moves.

I can’t even react— his fingers tighten around my wrist, spinning me expertly into him. Somehow it feels like we’ve done this a hundred times before, like we’ve been moving toward this exact moment without even knowing it. His free hand settles at my waist, warm and steady, pulling me close in a way that leaves no space, no room for doubt.

And then he kisses me.

It’s not for show. Not a performance. His lips press against mine, sure and unhurried, like he’s settling into something that’s already his. Heat flares at the base of my spine, climbing fast, white-hot flames licking up through my chest. His fingers flex slightly at my waist, like he’s anchoring himself, like he’s making sure I don’t pull away before he’s had his fill of this moment—of me.

The warmth of him crashes through me, a spark to dry tinder, setting every nerve alight. His lips move against mine, confident but measured, and for a second—just a second—I let myself fall into it. I feel the way he’s leaning in, the way he’s holding me there, the way his breath mingles with mine, like we exist in a pocket of air separate from the world.

But we don’t.

The corridor isn’t empty. The world doesn’t disappear. Students slow their steps, voices hush, a ripple of whispers spreading like wildfire. I hear someone inhale sharply, catch the flicker of movement in my periphery as people pause outright, wide-eyed, watching like they’ve just witnessed something they shouldn’t have.

And they have. Because this isn’t a show. This isn’t a play. It’s real, it’s burning through me, and it’s happening in front of everyone.

I break first.

I pull away too fast, too obviously flustered. I’ve probably ruined everything. I should’ve just played along— like he said to me before, enjoy the experience. I could’ve done that. Now I lost my chance.

James doesn’t move right away. He stays close, his breath still warm against my skin, eyes searching mine for something I can’t name. The silence stretches between us, heavy, lingering, filled with something I am not ready to understand.

Lily clears her throat, but she’s smiling now, something small and knowing. She looks between us, her eyes glinting with something close to amusement.

"Yeah," she says, tilting her head slightly. "I knew it. You two are really cute together."

She doesn’t linger. She just gives James one last look—something approving, something almost pleased—before turning on her heel and walking away, leaving us standing there in the weight of what just happened.

I scramble for something to say, but my mind is blank, wiped clean by whatever the hell just happened. My skin is burning, my pulse erratic, my body betraying me in ways I can’t even begin to process.

I force a laugh, light and dismissive, as if my heart isn’t trying to claw its way out of my chest. "Merlin, James," I say, shaking my head, playing it off, forcing the act back into place even as my hands tremble. "You could at least warn me before you go proving a point like that."

James watches me carefully. Too carefully.

And then, just like that, the mask slips back into place.

The easy grin. The effortless charm. The one thing he’s always been good at.

"Where’s the fun in that?" he teases, voice smooth, casual, like he’s not still standing closer than he should be.

The tension in the air is suffocating.

I step back. I need distance, space, air.

"Right," I mutter, my voice too light, too forced. "Well, this has been fun, but I should go—"

James doesn’t say anything. He just watches me, his expression unreadable, like he’s waiting for something I can’t give him. The silence between us stretches, thick, heavy, a question neither of us is ready to ask.

And then, because I can’t take it, because my heart is still slamming against my ribs, because the ground beneath me suddenly feels unsteady—I run.

I barely register the students still watching, barely hear the whispers that are sure to follow me. All I know is that I need to get away, to breathe, to pretend for just a little while longer that none of this means anything.

Run run run.

But no matter how fast I move, I already know—there’s no outrunning this.

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