#that someone was supposed to be a character i’ve already seen | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

trivia-yandere · 3 months ago

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the beast of busan

you’re the only reporter who wasn't scared of documenting the valentine's day crimes of jeon jungkook - a notorious serial killer known as the beast of busan. @minshookie29 @whipwhoops @sweetempathprunetree @chimmy-licious @darkuni63 @bangtans-momma @investedreader @somehowukook @yunhoswrldddd @curse-of-art

word count: 18.607

warning: multiple character death, yandere/dark themes, obsessive behavior, blood, mentions of death, reader is somewhat exploitative, erotomania jk, narcissism, manipulative tactics/moments, dry humping, neck kissing, dub-con/non-con elements, dirty talking, nipple sucking, fingering, face/ass slapping, overall this is a yandere based account and this is a yandere fic so please read the warnings,

valentine's day masterlist

“On Valentine’s Day, Busan has endured one of the most heinous crimes imaginable on a day that is supposed to be about love. It was dubbed “The Valentine’s Day Murder’s” by some for how gruesome the crimes were of the couples slain that night. However,” there was a pause as your eyes flicker to Jungkook. His eyes meet yours and he smiles proudly. “the murders had not stopped on the Holiday and instead, there was a serial killer tormenting the people of Busan.”

Jungkook chuckles quietly and you feel disgusted. It’s as if you weren’t speaking about him - as if you and he weren’t in the same all white cafeteria in the prison he resided where he was deemed a psychopath for his lack of empathy. You are positive he was reveling in the fact that you were here - in the same sundress he told you to wear - and interviewing him.

It makes your skin crawl.

“For the following months, the serial killer continued tormenting the people of Busan, killing any and everyone who he deemed fit that caused a panic throughout the city. No one knew if they were next - me included.”

Jungkook tilts his head, lips pursing a bit at your last comment.

“The serial killer was given the name…the Beast of Busan. And today, I’m interviewing him to get a deeper, more introspective outlook on why. Starting from the very beginning.”

Jungkook is excited, never having been interviewed like this before - at least not one with someone so beautiful such as yourself.

“Jeon Jungkook…” you gulp after saying his name. “...please introduce yourself.”

“My name is Jeon Jungkook. People of Busan know me as the Beast of Busan.” Jungkook chuckles, completely unfazed and lacks any empathy of why he got the name. “I was born and raised here. It’s my home. I love Busan.”

It was Jungkook’s idea to have camera’s set up facing him as he speaks into the microphone. He said whoever supports him would want to see footage of him - a vain statement.

“You cannot love it that much, surely. You caused a panic.”

Jungkook licks his lips. “That I have.” he nods in agreement.

“Would you like to tell us why?” you question. “Jungkook, did you know the victims?”

Jungkook blinks a few times as he contemplates the question. “Well, I’ve watched all of your live reports. That’s how I know their names.”

The flashing lights are nearly blinding as you power walk up the scene - a crime scene. There’s yellow tape surrounding the home and police officers along with medics coming in and out of said home. There’s a small crowd of people surrounding the area that are being pushed aside by police.

“Reporter Lee is already on the scene.” you murmur to your camera man behind you, glancing at the reporter who was already giving an interview. “Start the camera.”

You swallow thickly and await for the camera to start. “Hi,” you say towards the camera, the light flashing at you as it begins rolling. “Y/L Y/N reporting live at the scene of a gruesome murder. Right behind me is the home belonging to Kim Bora and Da Byeong-ho. Neighbors reported hearing screaming coming from inside the home and had contacted authorities. Upon arrival, authorities had found both bodies covered in blood and multiple stab wounds.”

Two stretchers are seen behind you and in the view of the camera. There’s gasps coming from surrounding people as police bring out said stretchers with the bodies of the fallen couple. Their bodies are zipped tightly inside of the black bag.

“Authorities are unsure who was the culprit behind the murders thus far,” you turn your head towards Reporter Lee whose eyes are already on you. “More information to come.”

The camera is cut just as the bodies are brought inside the ambulances. The flashing lights are illuminating off of your skin and even if you don’t look it, your heart is thumping outside your chest.

Busan didn’t have this - there was a murderer on the loose. Now of course, it could have been personally - someone knew the couple for who they were. However, there was also the possibility that this was a random couple that someone chose to slain and the fact that whoever it was has not been caught sends shivers down your spine.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Reporter Lee stands before you with a smirk on his lips. You stand straighter. “Death is not a laughing matter.” you retort.

“It isn’t.” Reporter Lee nods in agreement. “However, something like this isn’t meant for women.”

“Excuse you?” you raise an eyebrow at the man.

“I mean,” Reporter Lee shrugs his shoulders. “You should be reporting something softer. Death is so hardcore.”

“I’m aware. Thank you.” you turn away from Reporter Lee and at your camera man. “Let’s go.” you murmur, not sparing the man another glance.

Reporter Lee was infamous in Busan for always being at the scene of any crime committed - petty theft, break ins. This was just the cherry on top - a murder case. While other Reporters were now running to hop on the train, you were the only woman and he made sure he was going to make it harder for you.

“You women have it easy,” you recall him stating one day as you follow behind him on scene of a robbery. “All you have to do is look pretty in front of the camera and you have people’s attention. There’s no real hardship for you.”

How wrong Reporter Lee was, because even now as you are just as qualified as these men are in journalism and reporting, you are still deemed as nothing but eye candy.

However, you were not a fool. You wouldn’t allow whatever these men thought of you to run you off - if anything, it made you want to work harder to break out in the field of reporting. Being a woman did have its perks, but your plans wouldn’t work if the men saw you as a person instead of a piece of meat. You managed to get a hold of a police scanner and it made your job easier - especially when there was a reported murder just a few blocks away from the first one.

“Y/L Y/N reporting live from the scene of yet another murder.” you say into the camera as police scattered behind you. “Reports say that the woman, Won Duri, had called the police while her boyfriend was being brutally attacked right in front of her. Here is the recording.”

The cameraman is fast, playing the recording that was saved from the police scanner. Screams erupt from the woman on the phone in an attempt to find help for her boyfriend. Behind her screams are muffled ones, followed by what appears to sound like stabbing and blood splatter. It’s chilling to listen to, but you manage to keep your face emotionless.

“Right behind me,” you say as the recording goes silent. “police are escorting the body of Won Duri’s boyfriend, Yuk Jaehyung, to the hospital. He is in critical condition while Won Duri managed to remain unharmed.”

Won Duri is a crying mess who is attempting to be consoled by police officers. She’s covered in blood belonging to her boyfriend. “Excuse me,” you say as you come closer to the victim. “please tell-”

“You cannot be here.” one police officer says, pushing you aside roughly. “This is a crime scene.”

“I’m well aware.” you retort. “I’m here to speak to the victim. Obviously,”

‘Obviously,” the police officer interrupts. “She is in no position to talk.”

“Maybe she would be easier to speak with a woman than being surrounded by men after being attacked by one.” you spit, voice laced with venom.

The police officers are taken aback by your words, but even he takes a step back.

“Pass me a water bottle.” you say an officer. You come closer to Duri and place a hand onto her shoulder. “You must be so frightened, Duri. It’s okay.”

Duri’s eyes are wide and she's handed a bottle of water by an officer.

“Have you seen your attacker?” you ask Duri. She nods hesitantly. “Can you describe him for us? It’ll make it easier for investigators to find him.”

You’re patient with Duri as she slowly takes a sip of her water. Her hands are trembling the entire time and you’re truly sorry for what the woman had to endure.

“He was young.” Duri’s voice is soft and timid. “U-Um, black hair. He…had hand tattoos.”

You nod your head the entire time, never losing eye contact with Duri.

“I remember a p-purple heart. His eyes were so…dark. He had a lip piercing and…”

Duri begins to cry and you glance at the officers. “Thank you, Duri.” you tell her, offering a shoulder squeeze.

You take a few steps back and turn back to your cameraman. “Did you get all of that?” you ask him and when he nods, you sigh. “Duri managed to survive the attack and got a good look at her attacker. There’s no way in Hell he won’t be caught.”

The Beast of Busan was what the killer was called, and on Valentine’s Day he had ended his spree with murdering a dozen more couples on the same day. The city was in shambles, all wondering just who the Beast of Busan was and the reasons for his actions. Some reporters had speculated it was because he was single and hated couples - a popular theory amongst the group of reporters. Others suggested that the culprit was not a killer, but a group of killers working together because of how rapid the murders were.

You, however, didn’t dwell too much into the “Why”. “The murderer or murderers do not need a reason to kill. They kill because he or they wants to.” you say, microphone close to your mouth as you speak, your eyes right in the camera. “Whoever the Beast of Busan is, there is never a reason to kill and harm innocent people.”

“Thank you, Y/N.”

That voice, your mind groans. Reporter Lee stands in front of your camera without a welcome. He understands that live recording is crucial for reporters, so you wouldn’t shove your foot up his ass and break away from your professional view.

“I, however, believe the Beast of Busan is a coward.” Reporter Lee states into your camera. “He’s a jealous incel who’s possibly a lonely bastard, excuse my language, and murdered the lives of innocent people simply because they were couples.” Reporter Lee shrugs his shoulders. “I suppose you could be correct.” you lick your lips, clenching the microphone in your hand. “That could be the reason. But-”

“Could?” Reporter Lee scoffs. “What other reason would he murder couples on Valentine’s Day?”

“There’s been other mass murderers that do so without deeper meaning, Reporter Lee.” your grit your teeth in an attempt to smile at him - not genuine in the slightest. “We will only know when the Beast of Busan is arrested.” you turn towards your camera man and smile. “I’m Y/L Y/N, thank you.”

Your head snaps to Reporter Lee as soon as the camera stops rolling. “What the fuck-”

“Calm down.” Reporter Lee rolls his eyes, not allowing you the chance to speak. He turns away from you and begins to walk. Your eyes widen at the rudeness of it all.

“Fuck you!” you hiss after him, your palm throbbing with how hard you were clenching the microphone. You wanted nothing more than to hurl it at the back of his head, but that would do nothing but cause an unnecessary scene.

“Y/N…”

Your camera man places a hand on your shoulder.

“I know.” you sigh. Inhale, exhale, you tell yourself. “I’m just tired of being disrespected.”

You weren’t taken seriously - and you never were. You didn’t even consider reporting to be a “male dominated field”, however, it was becoming such. You weren’t as well-known as Reporter Lee, him being the top stationed in Busan, but you also didn’t look down on others such as him. How he was considered the best reporter is beyond you.

“What do you think the reason is?” your cameraman asks as he and you stroll towards the van. “Could there be a deeper reason for why he murdered those people?”

You shrug your shoulders. “Maybe it’s because we give them cool names like ‘The Beast of Busan’.” you scoff, not entirely selling your argument. “I don’t think there’s a deeper reason as to why people do what they do. Murder is never an option.”

Your heart jolts when Jungkook’s eyes are suddenly on you, a shiver running up your spine at his words.

“I didn’t know them before. They were strangers to me.” Jungkook shrugs. “By your reports, Won Duri called the police as I was tussling with her boyfriend.”

“Tussling? Or brutally attacking?” you nearly spit.

Jungkook flashes you a low grin. “We can call it that.” he nods. “Yuk Jaehyung was his name. Again, I didn't know him. Didn’t care to know him.” he shrugs. “I only know his name because I watched your live report on the matter.”

You wished Jungkook would stop trying to add you into the mix. It’s subtle, but it’s enough for some people to think deeper - and you don't need any conspiracies tied to your name.

“What was your reasoning for attacking the couple - and a dozen more?”

Jungkook’s eyes trails over the sundress, admiring the way it sits against your body. “You look very pretty today.”

“I’ll have to edit that out.” you sigh, but your body reacts for you, heat radiating throughout.

“Sorry.” Jungkook flashes a smile that would cause your heart to beat faster if he wasn’t a serial killer who lacked empathy. “Would it be sad to say…that I didn’t have a reason?”

Jungkook’s skin appears to glow in the camera, your eyes flickering to the way he leans a bit closer, his jaw appears chiseled and you understood why he had a bit of fangirls. Maybe it was easier to be attracted to a killer when he was behind bars - still, he was just that. A killer.

“Maybe I was bored?” Jungkook says with a careless shrug. “Maybe what people were saying was correct. Maybe I was lonely and took it out on couples.”

You remain silent as Jungkook speaks.

“Or maybe I just did it, just because. To see how far I’d be able to go.”

Jungkook’s tone gets deeper and deeper as he speaks, his eyes more cloudy. That familiar switch turns off and it’s as if the Beast is emerging.

“Maybe…I wanted your attention.”

You can feel the hair begin to rise on your skin. “Excuse me?” you murmur. “I didn’t know you prior to-”

“I knew you, Y/N.”

Your eyes begin to widen slowly.

“Maybe you were the reason why I killed them.”

“Stop.”

“I wanted to get your attention any way I could. Any attention from you is good attention in my eyes.”

“Stop.” your teeth grit, heart pounding so loudly. “You said-”

“I know what I said, baby. I’ll never do anything to incriminate you.” Jungkook chuckles, bunny teeth on display. “Let’s continue the interview, yeah?”

“You aren’t scared?” Jimin asks with raised eyebrows and a concerned look.

You scoffed.

“Why should I be?”

A month had passed since the Valentine’s Day Massacre - a name given by the people - by the Beast of Busan - another name given. Police and investigators had yet to find the person or people responsible.

The city of Busan was left in shambles. People were in a frenzy, wondering if they’d be next. They kept extra precaution while law enforcement did the same. There was now a curfew of 9 PM for everyone who did not have a Government job, and if so, they would be escorted to and from work by armed police.

“He’s murdered several reporters. Including Reporter Lee.” Jimin says matter-of-factly, as if it was an obvious statement - and it was. “Do you really want to keep tempting him until he finds you?”

Your last cameraman had resigned, stating that the job isn't worth his life. You couldn’t be upset with him - after the news of Reporter Lee’s death, it caused a shift for all reporters. The murderer had left a handwritten note - written with the blood of Reporter Lee - stating that he had killed him.

Jimin was your new cameraman that had started a week ago. He was kind and cute - would fit the description of a reporter instead of a cameraman. He had the charm and the charisma to be in front of a camera.

“If I don’t report then we’re both out of a job, Jimin.” you remind him with a nod of your head. “What is happening now is truly sickening…” you begin, licking your lips. Your mind flashes with the gruesome sight of Reporter Lee’s home. Blood splatter across the walls and seeping through the wooden floors. It haunts you at night. “...but I’m not going to let anyone come between what I love to do.”

Jimin could only sigh. He respected you and your courageousness, truly. He just hoped you knew what you were getting yourself into.

In your mind, you did know what you were getting yourself into. You wouldn’t lie and say that it didn’t frighten you to your core - that it didn’t keep you up at night at times. You couldn’t sleep most nights, and when you did, you would see the bloodied bodies of the reporters who all died doing exactly what you were doing.

You often looked over your shoulders when you were alone - which was only when you were home. You invested in several cameras and alarms and even went as far as keeping several weapons near you when you were home and on your person while you were out.

It’s insane to think that you live your life as if your job was dangerous - but now it was. You were possibly targeted by the Beast of Busan simply because you refuse to halt reporting on his heinous crimes.

You opened up your bottled water and only managed to take a sip before your police scanner was going off once more.

Your eyes turn to Jimin who only nods, getting the point that you wanted him to drive to the destination.

There had been another murder and, of course, the suspect was no one other than the Beast of Busan. Upon the scene, there were no other reporters - which is expected. Reporters had since quit their jobs once they learned of the deaths of their competition.

“Y/L Y/N live on the scene of yet another brutal murder.” you speak, microphone close to your lips as Jimin already has the camera’s rolling.

There’s dozens of police officers behind you that are adding caution tape. The townspeople, much like the reporters, were no longer interested in showing their faces around the crime scenes. They would rather watch the news from their homes behind locked doors - not that you could blame them. You and Jimin were deemed highly courageous to still show your faces publicly where the Beast could possibly find you.

“Officer’s,” you nod your head as two police officers had stepped forward. They appeared to be distressed - you assume the crime scene was another brutal sight. “were there any survivors?”

One officer sighs with a shake of his head. He glances from you to the camera.

“Reporter Y/L…we have something you might want to see.” the other officer speaks.

Your hand clenches your microphone as you are shown a bloodied picture. The irony smell hits your nostrils almost immediately and your stomach begins to clench.

You release a struggle gasp at what the picture is.

You.

It was you - not reporting. You don’t recall anyone being around when you had made your way home that one evening. You appear to be dazed, as if stuck in your own thoughts.

“There’s a message behind the picture.” the officer speaks, slowly turning it around - almost as if this was a moving and the camera is panning onto the picture in slow motion.

You swallow down your fears. You are positive that everyone watching is terrified for you - you’d be another reporter dead by the hands of the Beast.

“Lovely Y/N,” you read aloud, eyes looking towards the camera. “you’re so beautiful when you’re not looking. I hope you enjoy the masterpiece I left for you.”

Jimin cuts the cameras before you have to tell him to and instantly, you release your nerves onto the ground besides you.

“You have to stop reporting on him, Y/N.” Jimin nearly pleads. “He’s been following you!”

“You’re going to need more protection.” one officer sighs, rubbing at his temples. “That’s what he wants.” you spit, your throat clenching up once more and for a moment you think you’re going to vomit again.

“Y/N…” Jimin sighs with a disbelieving shake of his head. “...you cannot be serious?”

“I’m not going to stop reporting on him.” you turn your back and begin to walk towards the news van. “He wants people to fear him as if he’s some sort of entity. Like a force to be reckoned with.”

Jimin follows close behind you. “He’s been following you, Y/N. You aren’t safe!”

“None,” your hand grasps onto the door handle and you swing it open. In the passenger seat is a bottle of water. You grab it to wash your mouth out. “of us are safe. Just in one month, Jimin, he’s managed to scare everyone off of the streets.”

You gargle onto the water before spitting it out.

You were terrified, you won’t lie. You couldn’t bear venturing further into the crime scene to witness how gruesome the murders were - or how he left you a personal note. Surely it was to scare you away from doing your job - scare you away from your passion.

You wouldn’t.

“Is this really worth your life, Y/N?” Jimin’s voice is like the angel on your shoulder attempting to steer you away from harm.

“I understand that it isn’t worth yours, Jimin.” you turn to him with a soft look in your eyes. “If you want to leave, I won’t stop you. I’m not stopping.” you shake your head. “I’m not going to cower away like a dog with their tail between their legs.”

Jimin thinks your bravery is admirable - even if your plans were suicidal. There was a serial killer in Busan, killing innocent people just because he could and here you stand as if it was a regular day.

“Just…promise me you’ll stay safe.” Jimin sighs. He wasn’t going to steer you away from what you were determined to do. There was a spark in your eye; this was a challenge to you. It was a rivalry similar to what you and Reporter Lee had; the difference is, your life's on the line.

The next hour - and the following month - was just like this. Jungkook would often flirt with you and each passing day, it would get even more inappropriate. It was the same thing time and time again, the switch would flip and he would be back to his boy-next-door ways and he would be complicit in the interview.

You had a month full of content and the first episode would be released on your Podcast and - thanks to Jimin - your own website.

Jungkook had insisted he didn’t speak to anyone else while he gave you the information you needed. It felt wrong doing this - giving Jungkook a platform where he never truly felt sorry for what he’s done. A part of you feels horrible for profiting off of the death and trauma of others for your own personal gain.

“Once the money starts rolling in, baby, you’ll be fine.” Jungkook had said. Baby was his new pet name for you, no matter how many times you told him that it made you uncomfortable. His response was that if you truly felt uncomfortable in his presence, you’d stop returning day by day.

“There'll be mixed reactions for sure.” Jimin says once he manages to upload the first episode to your podcast and the video interview to your website. “But you’re a reporter and you’ll be ready for them.”

You nod your head, releasing a deep breath.

“So,” Jimin turns to you. “what happens now? Are you done seeing Jungkook?”

You want to say yes. You want to feel free from Jungkook and his terrifying gaze and his sudden changes of mood. You don’t want to feel so small in front of someone who isn’t able to harm you - so vulnerable.

Truth is, you’re unsure of yourself. Jungkook had insisted that you come back and see him time and time again, and now that you didn’t need to, what was the point?

“I have my life to lose if I don’t.” you say to Jimin.

“You’re going to keep allowing him to threaten you?” Jimin questions with a raised eyebrow. “He’s in prison for a reason. I’m sure if you don’t return…what could truly happen? We have everything we need already. Everyone will know about Jungkook and just how insane he is.”

You open your mouth to speak but Jimin wasn’t done.

“You are the reporter. You are the one that managed to get the story of Jungkook as the Beast of Busan. Anything he says after that would just go against his own story, wouldn’t it?”

Jimin was right - and you’ve always known. It was Jungkook that had such leverage over you that even the thought of him lying frightens you to your core.

“I understand.” you sigh, defeated.

“You want to watch the first episode?” Jimin furrows his brow. “The views are going up by the minute and there’s already so much traction on your site.”

Jimin wasn’t lying and as each episode dropped week by week, you - and Jungkook - were the talk happening on every news, radio, podcast station. There were indeed mixed reviews, some thanking you for telling the story of Jungkook - most people despised him but were interested in his story. Other’s despised you and Jungkook, stating that you were doing nothing but giving a psychopath a platform; and you were.

Jungkook was right when he said you’d be racking in large amounts of money, a part of you feeling utterly shitty about how you’ve contained this money. You’ve done what you thought would be the right thing and donated a large sum of the money you’ve earned over the last few months to the families of Jungkook’s victims as this was also their stories being told.

It was as if time stood still.

The reign of terror that Busan has experienced for months on end was finally put to a stop - and the murderous being that was called the Beast of Busan has been captured.

You have seen many phenomenons during your life as a reporter, but this would be the most shocking in your book.

Jeon Jungkook, age 27, has been confirmed to be the serial murderer who had slain innocent people, starting on Valentine’s day earlier in the year.

Many people had their suspicions on who the Beast was. An older man with a vengeance against younger couples in love because he found none. Someone vile and cruel and looked the part.

What anyone - you included - was not expecting was someone young.

Someone handsome.

Jeon Jungkook was something straight out of a movie - the typical love interest in your favorite romance. The common boy next story with boyish looks that would cause your heart to flutter and your body to heat up.

Tall with dark hair that curls slightly at the tips of it. It sits at his shoulders and in the slight wind in the evening, it flows beautifully.

His skin appears soft and smooth - blemish free and so young-like to add to his boyish appearance. But it was his body that reminded everyone that he was a man; a fit one at that. His shirt, white and stained with crimson blood, clings to him. Its sleeves are short and display a full arm of tattoos. His jeans are ripped at the knee’s and again, stained with the same blood.

Jeon Jungkook caused a frenzy when he was arrested - you being the only reporter on the scene. You couldn’t look at him, not after what he’s put you through the last few months. Constant letters addressed to you that got worse and worse as time led on - more inappropriate and sexual.

“I often watch you on the news and think just how lovely your lips would look wrapped around me…”

“You’re so stubborn and independent. I cannot wait to make you submit to me…”

And those were the tame ones.

Your eyes avert when his head snaps to you. Your heart was pounding outside your chest and visible, your hand - clenching your microphone - began to shake with nerves. Jimin had noticed and cut the camera’s quickly from you and towards Jungkook - who’s eyes stared right at you.

It was evident from the beginning that Jeon Jungkook had no desire to kill you - and if he did, he was just toying with you first. The amount of times that he has come too close without being caught was countless. He would leave bloodied roses outside your home and letters signed with “Your Beast”.

You were lucky to be alive, some said. Blessed, as if God was on your side.

You didn’t show the public that it was difficult to sleep at night because you felt as though his eyes - eyes you never seen until his arrest - were on you. You felt the constant need to ride and hide from someone you never knew if they were truly watching you or not.

Your mind racks through countless memories to see if you’ve ever seen Jeon Jungkook before as he was the perfect serial killer. He was someone you could have walked past and never suspected simply because of his appearance.

Months dragged on and Jeon Jungkook, also known as the Beast of Busan, was a hit.

Like an idol - not one to look up to in the slightest.

You were shocked when each court hearing, there were countless women - even men - outside on the side of a murderer. There were some declaring that he wasn’t the Beast simply because of his appearance, completely ignoring the fact that he was caught at the scene of the crime - and confessed to over a dozen others.

You attended each hearing alongside Jimin, your legs shaking with nerves.

Jeon Jungkook terrified you - the way his head would turn and his eyes would lock with your before he would give a curt wave and a low smirk. He didn’t seem bothered that he was facing several life sentences.

The letters never stopped - not even when you signed a restraining order and demanded that he would not have the possibility to do so. You were told that Jungkook never sent you letters directly - his followers did.

It causes shivers to run up your spine at the thought of someone like Jungkook - a murderous human being - could have followers and fangirls. With a snap of his finger, they did whatever he desired. It was as if he wasn’t sitting in prison due to his crimes. They looked at Jungkook as some sort of Prophet.

“Maybe you should take some time off.” Jimin suggested, having witnessed you down yet another cup of coffee. “He’s weighing on your mind heavily.”

“Of course he fucking is. People don’t see him as a piece of shit like I do.” you hiss, not truly meaning to speak to Jimin in such a harsh tone. “How is it that people think he’s innocent? Or the ones who know he did it, they…they romanticize it?!”

Jimin takes a deep breath. He isn’t sure how to console you. Jungkook is locked away in a prison and yet it’s as if he’s roaming free.

You remained looking over your shoulder constantly. The bloodied roses continued to be at your doorstep every day, all signed with “Your Beast”. You received phone calls - the first one you answered had been Jungkook himself, claiming that he wished to speak with you. When you blocked the number, the calls remained, all three way calls with his followers. It got to the point that you hadn’t answered your phone in weeks.

“People romanticize the both of you.” Jimin taps his fingers against his thighs. “Like some sort of Bonnie and Clyde.”

“I’m not complicit in his bullshit.” you close your eyes and inhale, counting just like your therapist had told you to. You couldn’t allow yourself to get too worked up. “I just want him to leave me alone, Jimin. I don’t….I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Jimin swallows. “How about…” he begins. “...you talk with him.”

“Jimin-”

“In the form of an interview!” Jimin raises his hand in defense. “Just, hear him out. He refuses to speak to anyone but you. You could be the one to sell the story of the Beast of Busan himself.”

You couldn’t believe that Jimin wanted you to profit off of this madness - and face the man that stalks you right from a jail cell.

“Take back your own control, Y/N. You’re the one that’s free, not him.” Jimin shrugs his shoulders. “Don’t let him control your life more than he already has.”

You sigh, leaning back into your chair.

Was Jimin onto something? Could you possibly do that without chickening out?

What were you scared of? He couldn’t hurt you - not while in prison. If he wanted to, surely he would have.

But you remained terrified of what could happen, and deep down it was you becoming the same as the fangirls who preached for his release.

“Y/N.”

It took yet another month for you to sit across from Jeon Jungkook.

The cafeteria is large and pristin. White walls, white tiled floors with white lights and white tables and chairs - all metal. It matches the all white attire that Jungkook wears, similar to a prison jumpsuit, just bleached white and clean. The windows right outside display the current season - autumn. The leaves are a different shade of brown and orange while the wind blows them along the ground.

“You look beautiful.”

Jungkook had agreed to your interview quite too quickly for your liking, but he had his own conditions.

Jungkook wanted to be alone with you - security just outside the door. He had promised to never hurt you - a promise you didn’t believe in the slightest. He isn’t bound, either, no cuffs or chains to restrain him if he desires to cause you any harm.

“Y/L Y/N,” you speak, the recorder on the table right in the middle. You ignore his complement. “And I am here with Jeon Jungkook.”

“Also known as the Beast of Busan.” Jungkook speaks, a hint of mischief and humor in his voice. His eyes, dark and doe like, twinkle underneath the white lights.

Jungkook is proud to be what he is - a murderer. He gained respect, adoration and notoriety for being such. Why be an outstanding human being when people would grow fond of you just by your looks and charisma alone, completely ignoring the way you heinously slain human life?

“Jungkook,” you murmur. There’s a glass of water beside you and you had the sudden urge to take a sip.

“I like the way you say my name.” Jungkook’s right hand allows his head to lean upon it as he blinks towards you.

“Stop flirting with me.” you demand, snatching the glass of water and taking a gulp.

“Why? Is it because you like what I’m saying?” he murmurs, voice dropping in tone. “What if I’m not flirting with you?”

“Don’t try to manipulate me.” you snort, slamming down the glass onto the metal table. “Those letters you’ve sent me were inappropriate. What do you gain from them?”

Jungkook tilts his head a bit, allowing a low chuckle from his lips. “Why not?” he murmurs, eyes unmoving from your face. “Shouldn’t you be happy that you have my undivided attention? I send you flowers every day.”

“C-Covered in blood!” you hiss, taken aback. “Who delivers them?”

“Why worry yourself with irrelevancies?” Jungkook waves your question off. “You’re here to interview me, are you not? Ask me anything you wanna know!”

You watch as Jungkook leans back into his seat and waits for you to ask him questions. It was a staring match between the two of you - his dark eyes unmoving and seemingly, unblinking. You weren’t one to give up a challenge, either, but you would be lying if you said he wasn’t intimidating.

“Why have you murdered innocent people?”

Jungkook snorts once more. He licks his lips, eyes trailing over your body with such perverseness that it causes your skin to crawl.

“Why…not?”

The tone in Jungkook’s voice - so nonchalant and uncaring. As if the question wasn’t worth his time answering. He stares right back at you, his eyes admiring the way your eyebrow would twitch cutely with irritation.

“I mean,” Jungkook leans forward once more. “even you said that there was a possibility that there wasn’t a motive behind my actions, correct? That I was nothing but a monster that killed just because.”

Not exactly your words, but it’s what you did imply. You recall speaking with Reporter Lee about the situation towards the beginning of his killing spree.

“Is that why you killed those reporters?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Yes and no,” he admits. “I killed them because of you honestly.”

You freeze, slowly widening your eyes. You should stop the interview right here and now and leave - you didn’t want to be caught up in whatever mess Jungkook was attempting to drag you into.

“W-What-”

“I saw how they treated you, Y/N. As if you were nothing.” Jungkook shakes his head. “As if you didn’t work just as hard as them. Maybe even harder.”

A tattooed hand places itself onto the cool metal table. Jungkook lightly taps his fingers against it.

“Sure, they upset me because they talked shit about me live. But so did you.” Jungkook throws a low smirk your way. “I killed them so you could be at the top. I’d admit…I thought I would scare you away at first. See how committed you were to your craft…and you proved to be stronger than any of those men.”

“I…” you’re unsure what to respond with. Could you be charged as an accessory - surely not! You had not known what Jungkook’s intentions were or been a part of them. “I didn’t tell you to do that.”

“You mean…you didn’t want me to?” Jungkook questions with a raised eyebrow. He chuckles at your flustered expression. “This interview isn’t getting aired, huh, Y/N? It’ll make you look bad, too.”

Jungkook halts his tapping against the table. “Or I can say whatever you want me to.” he shrugs. “So you can be in a positive light.”

“Why are you doing this?” you question, your voice barely above a whisper. Your heart is pounding so fast outside your chest.

“Doing what?” Jungkook asks innocently.

“I’m not one of your fucking fangirls!” you hiss, hands clenched into fists. “You can’t manipulate-”

“Calm down.” Jungkook raises both hands. “I’m not trying to manipulate you. What would I gain from that? I’m locked away for the rest of my life.”

Your hands unclenched so you could rub your temples. You take a deep breath.

“You taunt me, Jungkook.” you say behind gritted teeth. “You keep sending me letters and flowers and…you have people watch me! I don’t feel safe. Tell me what you want.”

Jungkook raises both brows. “Why don’t you feel safe? They won’t harm you.” he says, a bit of concern - you’re unsure if it’s fraudulent or not - in his voice.

“You’re a serial killer.” you deadpan with a scoff of disbelief. “Why would I feel safe being involved with you?”

“You aren’t dead.” Jungkook interjects. “Have I ever harmed you? Have I ever put my hands on you…?”

Jungkook watches you as he awaits a response. You bite the inside of your cheek. You were beginning to think that he was the interviewer and you were the one locked in a prison.

“I watched you sleep at night…tossing and turning.” Jungkook’s voice drops again, a hushed whisper as if he was revealing a secret - and in a way, he was. “Isn’t that insane? I managed to get past the officers parked outside your home…past several cameras and made it right into your bedroom…”

A chill runs up your spine once his words register. Your mind races, going through countless memories of times you woke up randomly in the middle of the night. You told yourself that you were just frightened; rightfully so. Jungkook had slain countless innocent civilians and reporters that you just knew that you were next.

Jungkook suddenly inhales, leaning a bit closer to you from across the table. He sighs.

“I can even smell the perfume you wear. Chanel, right? You have a bit of an expensive taste.”

It was obvious that Jungkook wasn’t lying and the thought of him being so close the entire time causes the hair on your skin to rise. Your lips part and you let out a strained gasp.

“I don’t want you dead, Y/N. You fascinate me, you know?”

“I think I’m done.” you murmur in a rush, your hand reaching out to grasp the small recorder to stop, but Jungkook is faster. His tattooed hand slams on top of it before yours could and you flinch away as if he was going to strike.

“Interview’s over so soon?” Jungkook questions with a raised eyebrow. “You barely asked me any questions.”

“I need to go.”

Jungkook tilts his head. “Are you scared of me, Y/N?” he asks as if the answer wasn’t obvious. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion at what this man - a sick individual - could be possibly speaking of. What in the world could you want from him?

“You wanted to be a respected reporter and I made you one.” Jungkook clicks off the recorder himself and slides it towards you. “People were tuned in to watch you because of me. You would be in the shadows if I had not taken out the competition.”

“T-That’s not-”

“Don’t bullshit me, Y/N. I killed them because of you.” Jungkook hisses, dark eyes not blinking. “Reporter Lee…Reporter Jung…they’re dead because of you.”

That same shiver runs up your spine at Jungkook’s words. You’re stiff, heart pounding outside your chest and mind screaming at you to leave - screaming that Jungkook was wrong; but that he was also right.

Your career had elevated because of the deaths of the reporters reporting on the Beast of Busan. You were determined to not allow that to stop you from doing what you loved - but in truth, Jungkook had not killed you because you were cautious; he didn’t because he had no desire to.

“How about this?” Jungkook’s eyes blink and in a moment, it’s as if he’s the same boy next door. “You can write a book? Or maybe do a little series…how about a podcast?” Jungkook shrugs his shoulders. “And I’ll be nice and cooperative. You’ll be even more successful.”

You want to laugh in his face, but even now you don’t dare to.

You had no desire to be more successful because of Jungkook as, no matter how cruel, it was true that your success depended on the death of innocent people.

“What do you want from me?”

Jungkook chuckles. It’s amazing how he could turn the sadistic side of him off and appear like an everyday man with charm. “I want you, silly.” he responds with a shake of his head, as if it was such a comical and obvious question. “I want to see you every other day!”

“I-I don’t-”

“Or I can speak to someone else.” Jungkook shrugs his shoulders. “Now that I’m no threat to the public, I have people lining up for interviews.”

“Then maybe you should speak to someone else.” you hiss, snatching your recorder from the table and when you’re about to stand is when Jungkook responds.

“And I’ll tell them you were an accomplice.” Jungkook brings his fingers to his lips and makes a hushed shushing sound. “That you had me kill those reporters to elevate your career.”

You breath hitches at Jungkook’s words. “That’s not true…!”

“Of course it isn’t.” Jungkook snorts. “But I’m already in jail with nothing else to lose.” he shrugs his shoulders. “I mean, c’mon. You out of all people survived against the Beast of Busan? The last reporter standing?” he snickers.

“Stop…”

“Look how much it elevated your career, Y/N. Out of all the people I agreed to see…it was you. Investigators can check the visitors log and prove that you were an accomplice.”

“Stop it!” you want to scream, but it’s hushed and strained.

“Don’t look like that, Y/N. I hate to see you look so sad.” Jungkook clicks his tongue. “I don’t want to do that, you know?”

“What do you want from me?”

Jungkook hums, his lips forming a smile that’s laced with sadism. “I want you. Is that too much to ask for? I want you to grace my presence with your pretty face and in return…you’ll have an inclusive story from the Beast himself.”

Jungkook then laughs at the way he says the Beast - the way he speaks about himself.

“You would be a renowned reporter turned…author, maybe? Who knows?” Jungkook shrugs his shoulders and waves his hands. “How about…you come back tomorrow and we can start from the beginning. You can ask me anything you’d wish to know and I’ll answer truthfully.”

You sniffle, your nose scrunching cutely that Jungkook couldn’t help but want to coo.

You release a deep breath, your mind screaming at you to run as far away as possible - but you only know that it wouldn’t be the end; it never will. Jungkook has eyes on you constantly and it causes your skin to crawl and now, you’d be unable to know just who was one of his followers. If you denied Jungkook now, he would only lie to the press and have you in jail alongside him.

“O…Okay.” you murmur quietly, your tone - along with your expression - defeated.

“Lovely.” Jungkook claps his hands together, dark eyes twinkling and a smile on his lips. “You should wear that dress you have in your closet tomorrow. The sundress.”

You feel the familiar shiver run up your spine once more.

Jungkook watches you from the small screen in the corner of the all white room. His head is tilted to the side as you speak to the interviewer - you looked so beautiful, he thinks. His pen is tapping against the notebook he’s currently drawing you in, the blue ink displaying such a lovely picture of you that he keeps in his sketch book - the third one he has filled up so far.

You were glowing as you spoke to the reporter. You were truly a work of art with a heart of gold that he admires as others would have allowed the new found fame to get to their heads - but not you. You were the special ones on Earth, someone so noble.

“Now Y/N, talk to me. How did it feel to be so close to him?” the interviewer asks you and Jungkook visibly straightens up as he awaits your response. “I mean, it had to be terrifying being next to the Beast of Busan himself!”

“At first it was.” you nodded your head. “But I had to remind myself that I wasn’t the one incarcerated.”

Jungkook hums at your response.

“You managed to come face to face with a serial killer and you weren’t the least bit scared?”

“Of course not.” you snorted. “Jeon Jungkook gained notoriety because we as a society gave it to him. Why do we call him the Beast of Busan when he’s nothing but a regular human being like you and I? A terrible one at that.”

Slowly, Jungkook’s eyes begin to widen at your words. Is that what you thought of him after all the long hours he’s helped you with your site? That he was nothing but a terrible person - as if he wasn’t the one who encouraged you to profit off of his story?

“My time alongside Jungkook wasn’t something I’ve enjoyed.” you shook your head. “He’s a psychopath that lacks any form of accountability. He’s…in a way, a scared little boy.”

The pen is being clenched in the palm of his hand so tight that it begins to pulse. He can feel the array of eyes of inmates on him as your words repeat over and over again in his head.

“In one of the episodes, Jungkook states that there wasn’t a reason for what he’s done. Do you think that’s true?”

“There’s always a reason for why people do what they do. It’s cowardly, in my opinion, for someone to take innocent lives. I’m sure there had to be a deeper reason for why Jungkook did what he did, but I won’t dig any deeper into his life.” you explained, nodding your head to the interviewer. “I’ve done my job and now, I want to not give any more recognition to Jeon Jungkook. I want him to be a distant memory in the back of all of our heads.”

The metal chair squeaks harshly as he slams his body up. A few inmates all gasp and cover their ears as Jungkook screams, hurling the notebook - all filled with portraits of you - across the room. He was angered - rightfully so. You had used him for your own gain and threw him aside as if he was nothing.

As if he wasn’t the reason why you - a reporter - was being interviewed. He was the reason you had no competition in a world where you were never respected.

He was the reason you reached a status that was once so unattainable - and now you claim to be done with him?

Jungkook’s body begins to spasm as he feels an intense pain all over it. He falls to his knees, a few hands on him forcing his arms behind his back. Your voice lingers in the back of his head as he’s dragged out of the room and down the hall towards his own holding cell.

You take a few deep breaths as the interviewer requests a brief commercial break. You were a bundle of nerves, but you were used to being on the camera, just not the one being interviewed.

“You got this.” Jimin smiles at you, handing you a bottle of water. “You look so…”

“Nervous? Scared out of my mind?” you joke, unscrewing the water bottle. “I know Jungkook is going to see this interview.” If he hasn’t already.

“I’m sure he will. He is sitting in a prison with nothing else to do.” Jimin snorts.

You begin to chug the water nervously, your throat feeling utterly parched after having been interviewed on Live television.

“I know you think it’s crazy for me to feel this way.” you lick your lips as you finish the water bottle entirely. “But you know how Jungkook’s followers are. What if-”

“They won’t.” Jimin places a hand onto your shoulder. “You’ve moved into a gated community and a safer environment overall. Stop worrying yourself.”

It was easier said than done as day by day, you received countless phone calls from Jungkook - all of which you declined. You had not returned to the prison as your work was done and you decided to wash your hands clean of the man.

The phone calls never stopped - not until you changed your number. It was a decision that would be utterly annoying - having to give your number to the right people and change everything around with emails and personal security, but it was a breath of fresh air.

Only for a moment, as Jungkook was always determined to make your life a living Hell.

The first letter you received you had not known it was from Jungkook - not until you read it and immediately recognized the handwriting.

You had thrown it away immediately.

The letters came - almost daily. You had decided to install cameras to see who was placing these letters onto your door, and coincidentally, they had stopped and instead were placed right into your mailbox.

Each letter received became more and more aggressive, detailing how pissed he was that you used him and tossed him aside as if he was nothing.

“I made you what you are today.”

“You’d be nothing without me.”

“You are just as bad as me exploiting the lives of innocent people.”

That last statement stung, causing your heart to ache, but even then you had not bothered to return to the prison and face Jungkook like he had asked you to.

The police were useless - stating that there was nothing they could do seeing as Jungkook had not sent them to you directly and instead, through a third party.

“I can’t keep dealing with this.” you say to Jimin one afternoon, eyes dark due to exhaustion from lack of sleep. You always swore you saw things at night - maybe it was the paranoia getting to you. You always see Jungkook lurking in the shadows when you are seconds from falling asleep.

“I can’t eat Jimin. I can’t sleep….I can barely get out of bed.” you murmur, legs shaking with anxiety as your eyes dance around. “I know he isn’t there but…someone is. Someone is always watching me.” you continue. “They know where I live and what’s stopping them from-”

“They would have already, Y/N.” Jimin interrupts, shaking his head. “Just…try to relax. This is what Jungkook wants to happen. He wants to drive you insane so you’d end up where he’s at.”

You swallow back a response.

“Have you talked to anyone about this besides me? Maybe you should see a therapist?” Jimin suggests. “You’ve endured a lot, Y/N. You were face to face with a serial killer who’s hell bent on dragging you down. It’s not going to be an easy ride.” Jimin furrows his brows. “I can schedule you an appointment.”

“I haven’t left my house in months, Jimin.” you scoff - ever since you received drawings from Jungkook. They were of you wearing a particular outfit you had worn to a trip to the store. Now, all of your interviews are done from your own home. It was a blessing that the interview with Jungkook had garnered you an insane amount of money - but a curse that now you could barely manage to leave your home without wondering if you’re being watched.

“I can have someone come to you.” Jimin waves his hand.

“No.” you shake your head hastily. “I-I-”

“I’ll be here.” Jimin interjects. “I can sit with you or I can sit right outside the room. Trust me, Y/N…” Jimin has never seen you like this before. You weren’t sleeping and barely eating. You were stressed and full of anxious nerves. You haven’t gone outside in months, and if you had it was only to your front door. “...if it doesn’t work out, then you don’t have to talk to her again.”

This is how you found yourself currently, sitting in your large living room where Jimin sat not too far away. A therapist he recommended, an older woman with cat-like glasses stares back at you. She seems kind, you think.

“Please, take all the time you need to think about the question.” she says and in your mind, a clock is clicking over and over again.

“I…I’m not sure.” you admit. “I know he’s never going to be released from jail but…I know he’s having me followed and watched.”

The woman nods her head slowly, listening closely.

“It’s crazy to think that I was less frightened when he was just the Beast of Busan. Nothing but an entity without a face.” you snort at yourself, withering in self-pity. “But now that he’s incarcerated, it’s like…he owns me.”

“Your feelings are valid, Y/N.”

“Are they?” you asked truthfully. “I…I feel like I shouldn’t be terrified for my life because I’m not an actual victim of his.”

“Why do you believe you are not?” your therapist questions with a raised brow. “You are being threatened constantly by him.”

You nod slowly - but she doesn’t know what Jungkook has told you many months ago concerning his threats. Jungkook had admitted to not wishing to kill you, yes - but it was a matter of time until he did something to cause you harm. You’re positive his initial thoughts of leaving you unharmed has since disappeared.

“I understand but…physically, I’m alright.”

Your therapist tilts her head.

“Mentally?” she questions. “Emotionally? Spiritually…?”

“Drained.” you murmur.

“Infection.”

Jungkook turns his eyes towards the faint sound, his body feeling utterly exhausted. His throat was dry and he longed for water.

“You’re awake.”

Jungkook’s eyes are the nurse, a petite woman that checks the IV connected to his arm.

“You must be thirsty.” the nurse murmurs, a bloody tint to her cheeks when Jungkook’s bat’s his long lashes at her.

“How long?” Jungkook’s voice is hoarse. “...you said infection.” he goes to move his wrist, just to find that they are bound to the hospital bed. His eyelids blink a few more times, now realizing that he did not recognize where he was at.

“For a few days.” the nurse struggles, putting down her clipboard. “You were transported here after passing out.”

Jungkook swallows thickly, his throat aching. His lips were as dry as his throat, and as his tongue coats them he can feel the cracks against it.

“I have to pee.” Jungkook’s voice continues.

The nurse widens her eyes slightly. “I-I…”

“Please.” Jungkook begs, panting. He sits up on the hospital bed, his body heavy.

Maybe it’s the way Jungkook looks so disheveled and in a great amount of pain that the nurse slowly nods her head. She doesn’t find any red flags in doing what she does next. She assists Jungkook up, having him lean against the bed as she manages to unbind his wrists from the bed.

“Thank you.” Jungkook murmurs as he enters the bathroom connected to the hospital room. He closes the door behind him as the lights flicker on.

Jungkook looks into the mirror, dark bags underneath his eyes. He closes them for a bit as he takes a long, deep breath.

Jungkook’s mind flashes with images of you and instantly, his blood begins to boil. Even if it's been a year since your live interview, it’s all he can think of in his mind. He shakes his head, scoffing to himself at your audacity - something he could never get over.

“Are you alright in there?”

The nurse knocks onto the door after about 10 minutes, her head pumping. The hospital is quiet and the eerie silence startles her; a complete unsettling feeling.

Jungkook turns on the water and begins to wash his hands, his eyes never leaving his reflection.

“I’m sorry.”

Jungkook murmurs once he opens the bathroom door. He has a bit of a limp, notices the nurse.

“My body is so…heavy.” Jungkook swallows once more. “Can I get some water, please?”

The nurse slowly nods her head. Jungkook eyes the way her frame slightly trembles as he steps closer to her, an obviously frightened look in her eyes as she knew who he was and what he is capable of.

“It’s amazing how you can even be standing up. You’re under so much…” the nurse trails off, swallowing. There’s already a large jug of water on the rolling cart that's full of water. It’s warm now, all the ice having melted, but it’s water nonetheless. “H-Here.” she says, delicate hands going to grab the jug to hand it to the man.

Jungkook takes the jug in his hands with a nod of his head. He places it upon his lips and instantly moans when the water touches his tongue. He possibly appears like a caveman, downing the water without any manners.

The nurse watches closely as a trail of water slides down the corners of Jungkook’s lips, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallows the water, completely dehydrated.

“Thank you.”

Jungkook exhales. His eyes roam around the dim-lit hospital room. The blinds upon the large window are drawn and it’s dark, possibly early morning. He doesn’t have a clock in here to see exactly what time it is.

“You said…there was an infection?” Jungkook questions the nurse, holding out the jug of water for her to take.

“Yes.” the nurse nods, taking the jug in her hands and placing it onto the cart. “I can get you more water in a moment.”

“That would be amazing.” Jungkook slowly cracks a smile. “Where am I? Am I still in Gyeongju?”

The nurse shakes her head. “No, you were transported to Ulsan.” she responds.

Ulsan. Jungkook hums - he wasn’t far from Busan; meaning he wasn’t far from you.

“Please lay down.” the nurse speaks suddenly. “I have to put these cuffs back onto you.”

Jungkook blinks, then slowly nods his head. “Yeah. You do.”

Jungkook goes to sit down on his hospital bed. He had a bit of a limp, but nothing too major. He just needed to walk around more to regain the strength back onto his legs.

“Thank you so much.” Jungkook lifts his left arm up so the nurse can place the cuffs upon them. “You…are very kind. You must love what you do here.”

The door to the room opens and in comes a doctor, who stops dead in his tracks as he eyes the way the nurse has the cuffs in her hands. She’s startled, and within a few seconds, Jungkook jumps up and wraps an arm around her neck.

“Close the door gently.” Jungkook demands, his voice sinisterly low. His eyes glare at the doctor, the nurse’s neck held roughly between his arms.

“Why did you uncuff him?” the doctor seethes at the nurse, closing the door behind him. “Do you not know who he is?”

“Jeon Jungkook. The Beast of Busan.” Jungkook chuckles with a shake of his head. “Take your clothes off.”

“You…don’t have to do this.” the doctor raises his hands. “You’re not going to get far-”

Jungkook pushes the nurse in front of him. She cries out when her hair is yanked.

“I will kill her right now!” Jungkook hisses. “Take your fucking clothes off.”

The nurse's arms reach back to tug away Jungkook’s hands from her hair, hot tears falling down her cheeks.

“Okay, okay…” the doctor swallows thickly, pulling off his white coat first. “Don’t hurt her, okay? I’m doing what you ask.”

The doctor's dress pants are next, a shiver running through his body as he does this. How embarrassing this was - and how angered he felt for the naivety of one of his nurses.

“Pass them to me.” Jungkook instructs. “Gently.”

The doctor gatherers his clothing and begins to walk towards Jungkook. Without much warning, Jungkook slams the nurse aside, her body hitting one of the monitors. Jungkook moves quickly in grabbing the doctor by his neck next, slamming his head down onto the ground.

In horror, the nurse begins to cry even harder, a hand clasping down onto her lips. Her tears are blurring her vision, and she could only hear the way the doctors head slams against the white floor over and over again until Jungkook was satisfied.

“Stop all that fucking crying.” Jungkook hisses, throwing the doctor to the side for a moment. “I haven’t put my hands on you enough to be crying. Get up.”

“N-No, no, please-”

“I said get up!” Jungkook hisses, getting to his feet to yank the poor woman to her feet. He pushes her towards the now dead doctor, blood oozing all over the floor. “Clean the blood up.” he instructs.

Jungkook didn’t have time to waste. He grasps the doctor and places him onto the bed, covering him with the thin sheets. It was a matter of time before someone - anyone - would find out he wasn’t here, and he planned to be long gone before then.

“I’m not going to kill you.”

The nurse’s crying hasn’t stopped, her trembling hands cleaning up the stained blood the best she could. Jungkook had closed the blinds as he dressed in the doctor's garments. He wanted the room to be as dark as possible.

“You’re the reason why I’m getting out of here. Your life can be spared.” Jungkook explains, placing on the dress shoes and tying them tightly. “But, if you don’t listen, that doesn’t mean I won’t hurt you.”

“I won’t tell anyone.” the nurse cries.

“Do you have a car?” Jungkook questions. “We need to get out of here.”

“W…We?”

Jungkook wants to laugh at the look upon her face. He had managed to place a mask over his lips.

“You’re not staying here.” Jungkook quips, amused. “I need you to walk me out of here and to your car.”

“Where…please I-I can’t-”

“Get the fuck up.” Jungkook’s demeanor changes once more, his patience running thin. He’s unsure where the officers are at, and he needs someone familiar with the hospital to show him around. “Take me to your car…or any fucking car now. Make a scene, and I’ll have no choice but to kill you.” Jungkook says. “I don’t want to do that. You look so young…”

Jungkook places a tattooed hand onto the woman's head, patting her gently. “...a long life ahead of you. Just listen, and it’ll be over sooner than later.”

“You think it’s all over?”

It’s a question you ask yourself. A few months prior, the phone calls, gifts and letters all stopped - and the dreadful feeling you once felt at being watched slowly subsided. You actually felt like you could leave your home again - but you always remained cautious.

Your security cameras haven’t picked up any movement like you usually had; how Jungkook’s followers managed to hide within the shadows was beyond you.

You felt as if you could finally breathe the fresh air of freedom once more. Your therapy sessions worked and you could only thank Jimin for that.

Some people in the public didn’t like you for obvious reasons. They called you a sellout for interviewing Jungkook, but you couldn’t dwell on those who didn’t like you. The victims' families weren’t upset with you for sharing their fallen loved one stories, and that’s all you could focus on.

“I hope so.” you murmur over the phone to Jimin. “I haven’t heard anything about him and I’m glad.”

The night is quiet and moonless, and it goes just about the same as it usually does. Jimin checks in on you, and he and you share a conversation. It varies, usually being about an hour before he bids you a goodnight.

Tonight was no different, you having placed your phone right on your nightstand and laying yourself against your cool pillow. You release a sigh, eyes instantly feeling heavy. You enjoyed sleeping to white noise as it relaxed you, the total silence that would be in your room had an eerie feeling you never enjoyed.

Jungkook didn’t hate you like he should - like he thought he would’ve when his eyes fall upon you. However, he doesn’t. He cannot bring himself to.

Jungkook understands that for the last few months leading up to the year of him being incarcerated, you had ultimately betrayed him. To think he, Jeon Jungkook, also known as the Beast of Busan, had given you a platform. You, a reporter who wasn’t respected in your field of work. Your fellow reporters looked down upon you just because you were a woman in a field dominated by the opposite sex.

Jungkook had killed them off, deciding that he would test you. You had passed his test and he did what he sought out to do - cause more chaos. Maybe that’s what attracted him to you. The fact that you weren’t afraid of him. It amused him no doubt, the way you continued to report on his day by day without any fear in your eyes.

While reporters continued to drop dead just by reporting on Jungkook, the more certain reporters quit their jobs. Except you. Certain news outlets didn’t wish to report on him. Magazines, radios. Bravery such as this was only a dime a dozen; you captivated him.

Of course, you were brave, but dumb. Jungkook had allowed you to get a million dollar interview with him. An interview that would make you millions and gain the same amount of notoriety, and even then you decided to betray him.

“Y/N and I are soulmates, you know?” Jungkook had spoken to the nurse while he drove down the dark road, bright headlights beaming. “You don’t think I’m wrong, right? I have the right to be upset with her.”

Jungkook takes a step closer to you. Your sleeping figure lays on your right side, an arm underneath your head.

“No…”

“Don’t just say that because you’re scared.” Jungkook groans with a roll of his eyes. “I gave Y/N everything! She betrayed me. She…she left me. After she promised she wouldn’t!”

Only half of your body is beneath the comforter, a trait you had once in a deep sleep. Your arms are exposed. With his tattooed hand, Jungkook, ever so gently, traces up your arms. He lightly taps, tilting his head as you stir a bit, but don’t quite wake up.

You hum audibly, your body causing a shiver to run up your spine and throughout your entire body. You feel the skin on your arm raise, your eyes not yet opening.

“Ji…min…?” you murmur, feeling light taps onto your arm. You’re unsure why you spoke Jimin’s name first, as he would not have entered your home unannounced; even if you had given him the key.

Your eyes slowly open, the white noise in the background finally reaching your ears once more as you begin to regain consciousness. Your eyes blink a few times to focus on the figure before you, your room not completely dark as you once enjoyed it to be in the past.

“You’re awake.” Your body stiffens while your heartbeat begins to quicken. That familiar voice startles you, causing you to go into complete shock.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Jungkook begins to chuckle, pulling his hand away from your arm as he watches you in complete amusement.

Your body suddenly jolts yourself away from the man as if he burned you. Your body falls completely off of your bed and it’s harder to see him now, but you cannot bring yourself to care right now. You’re in fight or flight mode - and there was no way you could fight Jungkook.

Your mind had to be playing tricks upon you, as Jungkook was locked away for life. There was no reason whatsoever for him to be out and before you. This had to be a dream; a nightmare. You were still asleep and desperately needed to wake up.

“You’re afraid.”

Jungkook’s voice is closer, as are his footsteps increasing towards you.

“N-No…!”

You try to crawl away, but there’s a sudden hold onto your ankle that drags you back.

You release a sudden scream that comes deep within your throat, your mind now screaming along with you that this was real. Jungkook was actually here - right in your home.

“Stop acting like that.”

Jungkook, no matter how amusing he finds you to be, is growing irritated with your actions.

“I’ve never hurt you before. You don’t have a reason to be frightened!”

You’re pushed onto your back harshly, Jungkook above you. His face is too close for comfort and instantly, you turn yours away.

“I gave you everything…”

Jungkook’s tone lowers from his loud, abrasive one. He lowers it now, talking directly to you instead of at you.

Jungkook's voice sounds…hurt.

“I gave you everything…and yet you betray me.” Jungkooks teeth grits. “I gave you a fucking platform to exploit me and the victims you pretend to care about.”

“You didn’t give me anything.” you find your own voice to speak. It’s low compared to his, and lacking any confidence.

“No…?” Jungkook scoffs in near disbelief. “No!” he then screams, echoing off of your wall. “You’d be nothing but a bitch on the sidelines if it wasn’t for me!”

Jungkook pushes you away, your head hitting the tiled ground abruptly.

“Reporter Lee would’ve taken all of your shine! You stupid,” Jungkook places two fingers, index and middle, onto your cheek and pokes you as if you’re a child. “stupid, stupid girl! I’m the one that allowed you to make millions off of my story!”

Your cheek begins to throb with how rough Jungkook was being. You squirm beneath him.

“And for what? For you to betray me?” Jungkook laughs bitterly. “I never spoke to anyone else. I’ve kept quiet this entire time!” he hisses. “I was loyal to you and you betrayed me.”

Jungkook pushes himself away from you. He needed to relax himself before he did something he’d regret. He inhales deeply before exhaling, counting to ten in his mind.

You raise a shaky hand to your cheek and hold it a bit, your eyes swelling with tears. You let out a shaky breath after a few moments.

“Am I not good enough for you?”

You knit your brows at Jungkook’s words, your tears now falling. You want to run as far as you can go, but you're paralyzed to your bedroom floor.

“I would’ve stayed in prison if you would’ve come back.”

You hear shuffling.

“I wouldn’t have murdered the doctor or security guard.”

Your heart begins to pound even louder as he admits to murder. Your mind is racing with countless questions that you have. How had Jungkook escaped? How many people has he slain just to get to you? Did he work alone?

“I wouldn’t have kidnapped that naive nurse and-” Jungkook stops speaking abruptly just as you feel your nightgown being tugged harshly, yanking you up from your fetal position. “-I wouldn’t be here.”

Your tears fall down your cheeks as you squeeze them shut, an attempt to rid yourself of Jungkook. You recall doing this at any given situation when you were a child; rid yourself of the boogeyman.

“What have I done to you personally Y/N?” Jungkook questions, grasping your jaw between his fingers to force you to look at him. “Look at me. Answer my question.”

Your eyes blink open, more tears pooling out almost instantly. You shake your head to get away from Jungkook, your mouth parting open to release a few whimpers.

“I never hurt you, didn’t I? I never hurt anyone you love.” Jungkook shakes you slightly, as if to get right through you. “I allowed you to live a good life, right? I gave you a story and you ran with it. Look at where you live!”

“Please stop.” you cry out. “You can’t be here, Jungkook-”

“You’re right.”

Jungkook doesn’t move, deeply inhaling.

“You can’t be here, either. Get up.”

You’re stunned for a moment, swallow that thick lump in your throat as Jungkook gets onto his feet.

“I said get up.” Jungkook grits as though he’s speaking to a child. “Grab some clothes.”

You shake your head ever so slowly, your eyes widening. “I’m not leaving with you, Jungkook.” you whisper out. “You need help…”

Your hands are shaking as you lift them up, reaching for him.

“Y-You need help and…I can’t go with you to-”

“The only way I’m leaving without you is if you’re dead.” Jungkook deadpans.

The crazed look in Jungkook’s eyes frightens you to your core, your hand immediately falling to your lap as another single tear drops from your eye.

“I don’t want to kill you, Y/N. You and I,” Jungkook points to himself then to you. “were meant to be together. For months I poisoned myself enough to get an infection. Dangerous enough that they had to transport me outside of the prison.”

Jungkook’s words cause you to gasp.

“I laid for who knows how long planning my escape and finally…finally I did it.” Jungkook’s lips curve upwards. There's no doubt that Jungkook is insane, a serial killer. Someone who could kill so easily and effortlessly without any remorse isn’t someone you wish to be with. His face is handsome, and you ponder just how someone like someone could be such a heinous individual.

“Get up. Grab some clothes and let’s go.” Jungkook murmurs.

Your body feels heavy as you lift yourself to your feet. Jungkook’s beady eyes watch you, the dimness of your room adding a level of suspense that has your skin crawling.

You can’t go with Jungkook.

You can’t allow yourself to leave without a fight.

Your body acts on its own, turning around to sprint across your room to your bedroom door, prying it open and going down the hallway to wherever; as long as it was away from Jungkook.

Heavy footsteps follow behind you, but you cannot bring yourself to look behind you at the boogeyman hot on your trail.

The nurse is horrified, her own heart pounding when your screaming figure bursts through the living room. Her legs are up to her chest, seated upon your leather couch. She screams herself when your body collides with your glass coffee table. The forcefulness of it causes it to shatter.

Glass pierces into your skin. You feel the glass scrape across your skin as your ankles are being dragged backwards, your throat releasing the most bloodcurdling scream you’ve ever produced.

“Why don’t you listen, Y/N?!” Jungkook roars above you, his hands managing to stop your feet from kicking him. “Why do you force me to put my hands on you?!”

“D-Dont hurt her…!” the nurse cries, finally speaking up when Jungkook’s hands wrap around your neck, his body weight on top of yours. “...please, please…”

She’s unsure of what to do herself, her body completely paralyzed. She had followed Jungkook into your home with a guilty conscience and stayed out of pure fear, unsure of what to do.

Your lungs heave when air fills them again. You begin to cough. Jungkook releases your neck and pushes you away.

“Go in the room.” Jungkook says to the nurse. “Pack some of her clothes. Be quick. We’re leaving.”

The nurse, still paralyzed, looks between your heaving figure and Jungkook.

“Now!” Jungkook snaps.

It takes entirely too long for Jungkook’s liking. He didn’t enjoy manhandling you - he adores you. You, however, don’t listen. You never did so he cannot fully put you at fault. You were a stubborn woman and that’s what Jungkook loves about you. Even him, someone capable of harming you, you put up a fight against. Your courageousness excites him.

“W-Where…are we going?” the nurse asks after hours of driving. You had laid in the back of the car, fighting with nothing but will to keep yourself away. Jungkook had forced a pill into your mouth, obviously one of your sleeping pills he’s found in the cabinet.

“We?” Jungkook asks, the sun slowly beginning to rise. “You can’t come with us.”

The nurse feels her heart jump.

“I’ll have to drop you off somewhere.” Jungkook murmurs, his eyes roaming around the lonely street. “A store. Gas station.” he says. “I don’t expect you to not tell on me. But, by then…” He will be far gone.

“You want to be a victim so bad, Y/N.”

Your heart races in your chest as you run as fast as your body could away from the man. It did you no justice. Your body ached, covered in bruises and scratch marks. You felt entirely too groggily, your head pounding and eyes wishing they could close to sleep.

“Look at you.” Jungkook tsk’s with a shake of his head when you stumble and crash right on your ass like he knew you would. Your will can only get you as far as your body was willing to go. “Come lay down-”

Your leg jerks and your foot sends a powerful kick his way - one he catches. Impatient hands wrap around your ankle and Jungkook drags you. You begin to scream, arms flailing around for something - anything - you can get your hands on. The hardwood floor creaks beneath you and Jungkook’s struggling.

You weren’t sure how long you had been out - but it was long enough to know that you were far from home and where you laid, you had no recollection of. Fear struck you like lightning as your mind replayed the events like a bad dream - and it was confirmed when you turned yourself over on the bed you laid in and saw him.

Jungkook is stronger than you, of course, and he wasn’t going to keep tolerating your bad behavior. His hands are quick in grabbing you by your shirt and yanking you up onto your feet. He’s entirely too rough for his own liking. He slams your body against the wall, him directly behind you. He hates having to show the side of him that he shows everyone else. He doesn’t want to show you the Beast of Busan, but you refused to accept Jungkook. “You must be hungry.”

“Let me go.”

“You’re going to try to run again.” Jungkook snorts. Both of your hands are behind your back and your cheek is against the cold wall. “Your wounds are still fresh.”

You let out a short breath. “Because of you…”

“I know.” Jungkook loosens his grip on your wrists, but he doesn’t remove his body from you. He didn’t want to keep chasing you. “I apologize, but what do you expect me to do? I gave you strict orders and you disobeyed me.”

You sniffle a bit. You bite the inside of your cheek and remain silent. There wasn’t a point in trying to flee or fight Jungkook - that would leave you in a terrible position once more. Your body aches while your stomach rumbles in hunger. You were exhausted even after being unconscious for who knows how long.

“How about we talk?” you ask meekly after a few moments of unmoving silence.

“Of course.” Jungkook says, pushing his body away from your own. Your body shivers on its own once his warmth is no longer radiating off of you. “I’ve cooked-”

“Jungkook, please.” you say, turning around to face the man. “You can’t…you can’t be here.”

Jungkook tilts his head a bit, a small grin on his lips. “Of course I can,” he responds. “we’re here aren’t we?”

You blink.

“You are supposed to be in prison.” you murmur softly. Maybe if you attempted to speak with him then this would be easier. “You know that, right?”

“Of course I know that, Y/N. I’m not an idiot.” Jungkook chuckles. You look away from his face. You always hated looking at Jungkook because of how handsome the man was. “It’s your fault we’re in this predicament in the first place. Take accountability.”

Anger shoots through you rabidly and you want to scream at him, but you don’t. Jungkook is calm now and that’s how you need him to be.

“You promised to visit me. You used me for content that was my idea and threw me aside like I meant nothing to you.”

Jungkook’s hand reaches for your face and your body flinches. There’s a cut right on your cheek that he wishes wasn’t there. It was caused by the impact of your coffee table. His thumb rubs along it gently and he sighs. “You talked about me as if I was the scum of the Earth in that interview, Y/N.” he says softly. “It hurts my feelings.”

You turn your head away to remove Jungkook’s hand from your cheek. “You’re a murderer, Jungkook.” you spat out. “You…”

“Yet you’re alive.” Jungkook quips, this time snatching your chin and forcing you to look at him. “So is that nurse. I’ve matured while incarcerated, Y/N. I don’t kill unnecessarily anymore.”

“What do you want, Jungkook?”

It’s a question that you’ve pondered the entire time, but was far too afraid to truly ask. How long had he been planning this? How far did he think this was going to go? Surely someone would realize that you were missing and connect the dots that you were either, A) missing alongside an escaped prisoner or B) dead due to the escaped prisoner.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Jungkook laughs a boyish laugh that would be cute if it was anyone else besides him. Someone normal. “I want you, Y/N.”

A few silent seconds go by.

“You can’t have me, Jungkook.” you try to say as softly and monotone-like as possible to not set him off. “You…know that. We need to get you back to-”

Jungkook’s nails dig into your skin and you gasp at how suddenly his mood changes. Your head is shoved right back into the wall and your eyes widen as the innocent smile wipes from his lips.

“I could kill you right now and no one will know where you’re at Y/N.”

Jungkook’s words cause you to stiffen right in his grasp. Your heart races in your chest so fast that it’s concerning.

“I can kill both of us.” Jungkook shrugs. “Would you like that? You acted so holier than thou in that interview. I can see the headlines now about how your heroic sacrifice stopped the Beast of Busan.”

Hands grip at your through and you immediately let out a whimper. Jungkook hadn’t attempted to squeeze in the slightest, only touched, but it was enough for you to cower. He takes a deep breath and shakes his head.

“I don’t want to hurt you, baby.”

Once more, Jungkook’s demeanor changes. His forehead places itself onto yours.

“Why can’t you just listen to me?” Jungkook asks, his voice eerily soft. “I’ve fought so hard to get us here. We have a house and our own land. We have food and…” he trails off.

You don’t speak. Neither does Jungkook.

You stand there for what appears to be hours. You had to get your heart under control and you didn’t want Jungkook’s mood to change for the worse. However, you had questions that you needed answered before your head exploded.

“Where are we?”

Jungkook’s ear perked at your sudden voice. He lifts his head to look at you, tilting it a bit.

“Far from Busan.” Jungkook answers. “You won’t find your way around here even if you’ve tried, Y/N. I’d advise you not to leave the house without me.”

Fear sores through you once more and you swallow thickly. The look in Jungkook’s eyes is completely insane.

“Did you…kill someone for this home?”

Jungkook shakes his head, doe-like eyes widening. “Of course not. I wouldn’t have us live on tainted land, Y/N.” he says with a chuckle. “It belongs to a friend.”

You wanted to ask how a serial killer had friends, yet refrain. Jungkook had followers. He had people who would send him countless letters - women who adored him and men who idolized him. It was terrible to think that someone who had no remorse for the crimes he committed could be put on a pedestal. As if he was some sort of God.

“How long do you expect for this to go on, Jungkook?”

There was no way this was going to last long. Someone would come looking - or maybe it was something you were hoping for.

Jungkook grins once more. He wouldn’t tell you - not now at least - that there were options he was considering. For one, he could do this forever. Jump from countryside to countryside with you by his side with the help of his friends (or followers - whatever you wanted to call them). Or, he could do what he feels would be a bit more effective. Drag you alongside him until he decides he was done.

That could be a week from now - or five years. Who truly knows?

“You hate me, Y/N.” Jungkook states. “That look in your eyes…pure disgust. But, it’ll change.” he says, determined. “After all, only you will know the real me. Jeon Jungkook.” he murmurs his name. “Not the Beast of Busan with blood on his hands. Now, let’s eat.”

Jungkook was correct - the house remained right in the middle of nowhere. Tall trees surround the entirety of the home that appeared to lead to nowhere. The sight appeared to be right out of a horror movie - especially at night. You refused to look outside as the dark often frightened you, an ironic feeling seeing as your nightmares remained right in the house with you.

Jungkook is many things.

A monster.

A murderer.

A psycho.

Jungkook is also an amazing cook. On your first few nights, you refused to eat. Not because you thought it would be poisoned. If Jungkook wanted you dead, poison would be the last thing on his mind. But simply because you wanted to defy him.

That, however, didn’t last long. As much as Jungkook adored you, if you wanted to be stubborn he was going to let you learn the hard way. On the fifth day, you gave up and ate the food, your tastebuds dancing.

Jungkook is also surprisingly clean. He cleaned the home often - dusting and mopping occasionally. He washed yours and his clothing that always left a fresh linen scent on it that drove you crazy by how well it smelt.

Jungkook, as you learned, was even a good singer. That act surprised you. He took up singing whenever he was busy cooking or cleaning. The melodic tune in his voice had drawn you in as if he was a siren or bard. It even angered you that you enjoyed the sound of his voice because this wasn’t normal. Serial killers didn’t sound like this.

Jeon Jungkook did, however.

Your eyes begin to flutter open and it’s right now you realize just how your body is.

That, and the obvious arm around your waist keeping you close.

You counted everyday you’ve been alongside Jungkook and each day you attempted a little harder to leave - all of which had failed. The first week was when Jungkook slept alongside you and since then, had not bothered to sleep elsewhere. You never went to sleep in his arms but somehow always woke up in them.

“Morning.”

You don’t move, swallowing a bit.

Jungkook snuggles against you and inhales your scent - something he enjoys doing. You smell of lavender and vanilla and it’s a scent that he finds calming.

“Hey.” you say back quietly. You begin to squirm in his embrace. You didn’t want to be in Jungkook’s arms, a sullen feeling going through you. Not because it made you uncomfortable like you wanted it to. But because you found that his warm embrace was inviting. His own scent calmed you at times and his arms made you feel welcomed. Feelings that shouldn’t be associated with a murderer - you didn’t want to confide in Jungkook. You didn’t want to enjoy him in the slightest.

“You smell nice.”

You attempt to move away from Jungkook once more, but like before he holds you even tighter. Your back is against his chest and his arms tightens.

“Why do you keep trying to get away from me?”

Jungkook’s breath tickles against your neck and it causes your skin to prickle with goosebumps.

“We shouldn’t be in this position.”

Jungkook hums. “Why not?”

Why not? Did you have to remind him that his actions are far from sane? Breaking out of prison, taking a nurse and you hostage and murdering whoever needed to be along the way. You lived in the middle of nowhere; who knows how far away from Busan you were.

“We’re not…” Jungkook’s mood swings were unpredictable at times, but you managed to keep it going. If you did what he said, you would hope eventually he’d find the right mind to allow you to leave - even if it meant that he would keep running from the law. “...I need to go back home, Jungkook. I can’t stay here forever.”

Slow and steady, you think. Don’t be too forward or he might snap.

“Why would you go anywhere?” Jungkook’s lips are soft when they rub against you. Once more, you stiffen. You feel him against you, his bulge right against your own ass and you want to scream. “Don’t you like it here?”

No, you think. “I do.” you murmur, a bit of a lie. The home itself was beautiful and the entire land around you was a sight to see. However, not with Jungkook. “I just…have a life back in Busan.”

“Most people hate you and I.”

Jungkook’s words are blunt. His arm loosens around you so that his hand, as bold as his hips, places right on top of your clothed breast. The shirt you wore was the only coverage you had for him to not cop a complete feel.

“For every five people that like you, there’s 10 that also hate you.” Jungkook continues cooly. “Most of them are happy you’re gone. Why go back to them?”

Jungkook’s words sting and you understood it was because it was true. You did have a handful of people that despise you just because of Jungkook. You’ve read articles, against Jimin’s judgement, and saw just how many people hated you because of you choosing to platform Jungkook. Even if you did give his victims a story to tell and donate a massive amount of money to said victims' families, you were still looked at as less than.

It didn’t help that out of all the reporters, you were left alive. Theories were going around that you and Jungkook were something more - and that was the last thing you wanted to be true.

“You have a home over your head. Food, necessities, clothing.” Jungkook continues. “The air is fresher here than in Busan, too. You know that, right?” he continues, his palm lightly squeezing your breast over your shirt. You yelp to yourself at the sudden action.

“Jungkook-”

Jungkook ruts his hips once more, squeezing your breast again. You can hear his breathing increasing from behind you.

“You don’t like being with me is what you’re saying?”

Jungkook snakes his hand beneath your shirt. It causes you to jolt a bit when his hand touches against your bare skin. It slides up the curve of your hip before sliding past your stomach.

“Are you still afraid of me, Y/N?”

Jungkook’s fingers tap against your skin teasingly. His voice appears deeper, more huskier, when he speaks. His hips rock against you, the bulge growing even harder when his hand touches your bare breast.

“Yes.” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re afraid of me?” Jungkook repeats, his large palm squeezing your breast while your mind screams at you to fight him. To push him away in purse disgust - to remind yourself that this was a murderer. A cold blooded killer who took you away from your home. “I haven’t hurt you. Has your time with me been that bad?”

Jungkook doesn’t let the moan you let out go past his ears. His thumb and index finger pinches your nipple lightly, his lips pressing on the nape of your neck.

“P-Please stop.”

Jungkook doesn’t listen to you. The way your ass feels against him is euphoric. He’s waited to be able to touch you like this - to feel your breast in his palm. To smell the scent on your skin and those soft moans coming from your lips.

Maybe it was also the way you didn’t fight him like you had from the beginning.

“Do you not feel good?”

Jungkook is quick, removing his hand from your breast to grip your neck gently. He turns your head so that you’re facing him. He’s now hovering a bit above you, his dark eyes looking right through yours.

“It does.” Jungkook states, voice a whisper. “I see the look in your eye.”

Your mind continues to scream for you to move, but your body remains perfectly still.

Where would you go if you fought him?

How far would you be able to go before Jungkook dragged you back?

“It’s okay to…like me.” Jungkook disclosed. He licks his lips, pink tongue coating his lips in such a suave matter. “It’s okay to like how I make you feel.”

You had to swallow so you wouldn’t choke. Your heart is already pounding on your chest and you’re positive Jungkook can hear it.

“You’re not a good person.” you mumble, blinking a bit. “You’ve killed people.”

Jungkook’s thumb gently rubs along your chin. Slowly, his lips form a low grin - an arrogant one. “I never said I was a good person,” he responds. “But…you've never seen that side of me, have you?”

Damn him, you think. You didn’t need to see that side for you to know, yet you felt betrayed. What your mind is warning you, your body is betraying.

Jungkook leans down a bit, his nose lightly rubbing against yours. The action is far too intimate for your liking.

“I promised you’d never see that side of me. If you were truly scared, Y/N, why haven’t you pushed me away yet.”

Jungkook could read you. You may have a bit of hesitance towards him as that was your right. Yet, you didn’t fight him like you did initially. You listened to him now. You ate alongside him. You allowed him to hold you at night.

“It’s because you like what I do, Y/N.” Jungkook murmurs and without hesitance, presses his lips against yours. A jolt of electricity flows through you at the kiss.

Jungkook deepens the kiss, his hand roaming down inside of your shirt once more so he could grip your breast. He rubs it in his palm, his hips continuing to rut against you.

“You,” Jungkook breaks the kiss, his tone a mere growl. “want me to touch you like this. You’ll never admit it to me or yourself.”

Jungkook is a bit rough, but not enough to cause any true fear throughout you. You’re on your back, shirt pulled up to your neck and your breast is on display for Jungkook. He hovers above you, caging you in between his legs.

Jungkook’s hands hook in your shorts, eyes flickering up to watch you. You don’t stop him so he proceeds to pull them down. Your panties are a solid grey cotton material. It doesn’t pass his eyes that there’s a bit of moisture right at the center of your legs.

“You sure you don’t like my touch?” Jungkook ponders aloud, his hand placing itself onto your abdomen while his thumb presses against your clothed clit.

Your body jolts at the sensation and you bite the inside of your cheek.

“You’re very beautiful, Y/N.”

Jungkook leans down and for a moment you think he’s going to kiss your lips like before. Instead, he goes right to your breast. His tongue pokes out to lick along your nipple and immediately, it hardens.

Your mouth falls open and gasps. Your eyes widen a bit. His thumb continues to rub along your clit while he begins to suck and lit on your nipple.

“J-Jungkook-”

Possibly it was the sound of your voice saying his name that causes Jungkook to groan, his mouth wrapping your nipple entirely. There was hesitance laced in it, but yet you didn’t push him away. You hadn’t told him to stop. You were going through an internal battle of mind v.s. body and as of right now, your body was winning.

Jungkook sucks out your nipple with a pop and goes onto the next breast. His thumb increases it past, the moisture seeping through so much so that he can feel it dampen the pads of his thumb.

Your hands grip the sheets beneath you and you squeeze your eyes shut to get the image of Jungkook ravishing your breast of your mind. It follows you, however, as his slurping doesn’t make anything easier for you.

“I can be good for you, Y/N.”

Jungkook's teeth grazes your nipples gently and it takes everything in you not to groan.

“I can make you feel good. I know you want it.” Jungkook’s tongue licks from your breast to between them, going a bit lower until he reaches your stomach. “What are you afraid of?”

The question had to be rhetorical. The answer was right there.

Jungkook was a psycho. A murderer. He was capable of hurting you with his bare hands without as much as caring.

And even then, your body wants Jungkook to continue what he has already begun. Your skin is warm and whatever hair you had on you was rising. Your chest heaves and you cannot deny the sensation between your legs he’s causing you, either.

“W-We can’t-”

Jungkook doesn’t care. He’s tugging off your panties and dips between your legs. His teeth bite right on your inner thigh, an act of possession that catches you off guard. You don’t have time to react before his lips are on your clit.

Your back arches fully now and Jungkook holds your legs apart to keep you in place. His head bobs back and forth, his tongue flat as he works it between your folds. He’s slurping and grunting like a starved animal.

Your eyes snap shut once more, no longer able to contain the breathy moans that come out of you. Your fingers continue to grip the sheets tightly - so tight that you think if you continue, it’ll rip right in the palms of your hands.

Your taste is sweet and Jungkook doesn’t want to stop. It feels like a dream to have you before him, submitting fully. The countless days he thought about having your pussy on his face. As you interviewed him, he pondered about slamming you against the metal table and having his way with you. He calculated that if he did, how long it’d be until the guards got you off of him.

Such melodic moans coming through his ears that Jungkook knows you wouldn’t have fought him for long. You adored his hands on you just as much as you revered the way his tongue works through your folds.

It takes every fiber in Jungkook’s body to remove himself from your pussy and he licks his lips to regain the flavor of your arousal. His eyes are completely dark and blown and it only meant there was no stopping him now.

“I’ve waited to taste you for so long, my love. You have no idea.”

“Jung…kook,”

You are silenced when Jungkook enters his fingers in you. He coats them with saliva before he does and doesn’t waste valuable time before he’s thrusting them inside of you. Your breathing hitches and the lewd sensation is entirely too pleasurable.

“Stop!” you hiss out, your walls clenching around his fingers.

“You don’t want me to stop, my love. You’re leaking all over me.” Jungkook chuckles darkly, going down to flicker his tongue onto your sensitive clit.

You couldn’t give it to what your body wants, you think. You wouldn’t allow Jungkook to have control over the one thing you had left. Your body was all you had, and even now he was taking that from you.

Jungkook’s eyes watch your face contort with pleasure, the corners of your eyes swelling with tears of pleasure. His tongue continues to lap against your throbbing clit, fingers pounding deeper and deeper.

It takes everything in you, but you manage. You land a single punch to Jungkook’s head with all the strength you could muster.

Your mind is taking over now and when Jungkook stumbles away from you, you take it upon yourself to get out. Adrenaline runs through you as you run out of the room. You weren’t wearing anything but your shirt, but you couldn’t stop. It’s morning, the sun just beginning to shine throughout the home.

Your feet slam against the hardwood floor and it creeks underneath your feet. You hear heavier footsteps right behind you, but you don’t dare look back. It’s uncomfortable to run with arousal dripping down your thighs, but you had no time.

Your hands wrap around the doorknob to the front door and you slam it open. There had to be something just behind these trees that you-

A scream bursts through your lungs. Your hands immediately go towards your hair as you’re being yanked back just as your feet meet the grassy texture.

You’re unable to catch yourself when you’re slammed backwards towards the concert steps of the home. Your naked body scratches against it and you immediately wince.

“Why don’t you listen?!”

Jungkook roars in your face, veins pulsing in his neck. It’s the angriest you’ve ever seen of him.

“You don’t want me to treat you with respect.” Jungkook hisses, grasping your shoulders harshly and forcing you to turn around. Your face is against the concrete. “You want me to disrespect you.”

Embarrassment flows through you when a hand harshly slams against your ass. It stings, sending shock waves throughout your entire body.

“Why can’t you just listen to me, Y/N?” Jungkook is pissed, striking you on the ass again. He shouldn’t have to do this to you. You were choosing to be difficult and in return, he had to punish you.

Jungkook yanks your hair back and your body swings upwards and your back hits against his chest. The morning air is cool and it flows through your shirt.

“Luckily there’s no one around.” Jungkook murmurs. “Public indecency.”

Your cheek stings, throbbing with a possible scrape.

“Is being here with me that horrible?” Jungkook questions, his grip on your hair tightening. There’s something in his voice - hurt? Was he upset at the thought of you not wanting to be around a murderer as if it shouldn’t be obvious. You were taken against your will. It isn’t as though he hadn’t forced you out of your home while unconscious.

“You don’t know how hard I’m trying.” Jungkook’s grits out. “It’s like you don’t give a damn about my hard work.”

Jungkook pushes you away. He doesn’t do it as rough as you would expect him to. His chest is rising and falling as he attempts to control his breathing and anger towards you.

You don’t want to look at Jungkook, afraid that if you do he would attack. Your body is trembling, the cool morning air not feeling the least bit good against naked skin. You wanted to curl up into a ball and be left alone.

“Get up. We’re going back in.” Jungkook takes a few moments. “You’re going to get yourself sick. How far did you think you were going to go without any clothing, Y/N?”

Adrenaline flows through you once more. When you feel Jungkook’s arms on your elbow, you swing your closed fist back and strike the man, unknowingly right in the face.

Jungkook stumbles back a bit at the impact, his right eye throbbing. You turn and face Jungkook finally, your eyes watching as he lets out a few swear words.

You, however, don’t move. You had little flight in you. Jungkook was right. You weren’t going to make it far naked and there was no way in hell he was going to let you out of his sight now that he knows you’re just going to attempt to run.

“You’re getting bold.” Jungkook murmurs, blinking a few times to regain the sight in his eye.

You go to attack Jungkook again, anger flowing through you. You send punches his way, majority of them he dodges or catches with his own hands. Some land on him - his neck, chest and shoulders.

It upsets you after a few moments that Jungkook doesn’t appear as angry as before. His eyes remain dark and his face is nearly stoic, but you notice his anger subsided.

It upsets you even further. Your fingers dig into his own hair, yanking it until he falls right on top of you.

“Enough!” Jungkook hisses, pushing your body deeper against the cold and hard cement. He manages to grab hold of your arms. “You aren’t going to be satisfied until I actually hurt you.”

“You already did.” you hiss back, chest heaving.

“You’re still breathing, aren’t you?” Jungkook forces your hands down and it scraps against the ground. “I would’ve gutted you if you were anyone else!”

You are completely still beneath him, his yell echoing off of the tall trees.

“I wanted it to come naturally, Y/N. But if you won’t comply, I’ll just force the submission out of you.” Before you could blink, Jungkook is forcing you up onto your feet. He drags you inside the home and slams the door shut behind him. He pushes you away from him and you stumble. Quickly, you swirl around to face him.

“Pick your choice, Y/N. You’re either going to listen to me or not.”

You inhale deeply.

You’re unsure what has gotten through you. Maybe it’s because Jungkook, in a way, has been lenient with you. This was a man who’s killed far too many people to count, and yet he’s allowing you to defy him until you’ve given him the answer he wants. What he’s done to you is child’s play as you understood what he’s truly capable of.

“Fuck you, Jungkook.” you hiss low, voice fully of venom.

Jungkook tilts his head a bit, watching you.

“You’re going to have to kill me.”

“I would never.” Jungkook retorts with a scoff. “What’s gotten through to you? This self righteous act you’re portraying is cute.”

Jungkook begins to smirk as if you were a joke and it causes anger to seep through you. Without much thought, your sprint towards him once more. You attack him, punching and scratching at him like an animal. The flashes of how frightened you were of him while incarcerated go through you. The long nights of staying up because you knew people were watching you. The bloodied roses and disgusting letters all at the hands of him.

Jungkook doesn’t put up much of a fight, allowing you to attack him for nearly five minutes until he thinks you have enough. He wraps you in a tight embrace to stop your attacks. The nearest area is the living room and he throws your body right onto the loveseat. You squirm in his embrace but Jungkook doesn’t let up. “You’re so cute when you’re angry, baby.” he murmurs against the skin of your neck. “Your attacks don’t hurt me.”

Jungkook presses himself against you. “If anything, it excites me.” he murmurs right in your ear, assuring that he shows you just how excited he was. His bulge sits right on your clit, twitching with excitement. “You want to make things harder then so be it. I’m a patient man."

pick your ending...

one | two

#trivia-yandere #explicit-tae #beast of busan #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #bts smut #btswritersclub #btswritingcafe #btswriterscollective #bangtanwriters net #bangtan smut #bangtanwritershq #trivia yandere halloween masterlist #bts yandere #jungkook yandere #bts serial killer

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kbwrites · 8 months ago

Text

Breaking up is hard to do!

synopsis: breaking up with the jjk men.

⚝characters: Gojo, Geto, Nanami

⚝content: heavy angst, gaslighting(Gojo's), depression (Suguru's), mutual breakup(Nanami's)

⚝wc: 3.5k

Satoru Gojo

“Yeah so then Yuji popped out of the crate and surprised them all! You should’ve seen it baby!” Satoru wheezes holding his stomach as he recalls the event from the day.

No matter how hard you try though, you can only muster a small smile.

It had become really hard to do much else recently. With the weight of the hundreds of tasks at work taking its toll. Satoru looks over at you, waiting for a laugh—but it doesn’t come.

“Hellooo? Everything alright princess?” He questions giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

“Mhmm!” You nod.

He looks at you for another moment, unreadable expression on his face. Satoru shifts, clearly expecting more from you. “You sure? You’ve been quiet tonight. That’s not like you,” he says, his voice still light, but there’s a hint of curiosity now.

You try to hold back the frustration, but it bubbles up anyway. “I’m just tired, Satoru.”

“Tired? Seriously?” he mutters, pulling his hand away. “You work, what, a nine-to-five? You act like you’re running yourself into the ground.”

You blink, taken aback by his dismissive tone. “Satoru, it’s not just about the hours. It’s everything piling up, and—”

“Piling up?” He cuts you off with a scoff, already reaching for his phone. “Why didn’t you just say something sooner? You know I could’ve hired someone to handle that for you. I’ve got the money. You shouldn’t be stressing over... whatever this is.”

The words sting. You knew his mind would go there. It always does—like money could just make the exhaustion disappear, like hiring someone to take care of the smaller details would magically solve everything.

“It’s not about the money, Satoru.” you snap, trying to hold onto your patience. “I don’t need someone else doing my job for me. I just... I need you to listen.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Listen? What do you expect me to say? You’re tired. I get it. But don’t act like you’re drowning when I could have fixed this a long time ago. Hell, I could’ve bought you time off or flown you somewhere. You're sittin' here sulking like I can’t take care of things.”

You clench your fists, the exhaustion now compounded by frustration. “It’s not about you fixing things, Satoru. Sometimes I just need support—not your money.”

He stares at you, eyes narrowing. “Right. So you want to feel miserable instead of letting me help. That’s real smart, princess.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you shove clothes into your bag, the sound of zippers and drawers slamming echoing through the room. You can feel Satoru’s presence behind you, hovering, but you don’t stop. You can’t. Not after that.

“C'mon, princess.” he says, his voice exasperated, like he’s the one who's supposed to be annoyed. “What are you doing? Where do you think you’re going?”

You don’t answer, your hands moving faster, yanking more clothes off hangers, ignoring the sting behind your eyes. You’re so angry you can barely breathe.

“I’ll book us a trip,” Satoru tries again, a hint of desperation creeping into his usually arrogant tone. “How about Paris? We’ll stay at that five-star hotel you like, the one with the private balcony. You love that place.”

Your jaw clenches. “This isn’t about a vacation, Satoru,” you snap, stuffing the last of your things into the bag. “It’s not about your money or your fancy hotels.”

“Then what is it about?” he shoots back, his voice rising with frustration. “You’re acting like I haven’t given you everything. "What more do you want?"

You freeze, bag halfway zipped, your body trembling as you turn to face him. His icy blue eyes are wide, confused, and maybe even a little hurt, but you’re beyond caring. “I want you to see me!” you shout, the words tearing out of you, louder than you intended. “I don’t need you to throw money at the problem! I need you to actually understand what I’m going through!”

Satoru stares at you, speechless for once. His mouth opens, but no words come out. He looks almost... shocked, like he can’t comprehend that his money, his status, can’t fix this. That he can’t fix this.

“Do you even care?” you ask, your voice quieter now, but no less angry. “Do you care about how I feel? Or is it just easier for you to throw cash at me until I stop complaining?”

He’s silent, his gaze hardening as he crosses his arms. “I’m trying to help. What else do you want me to do?”

“I want you to listen!” You throw your hands up in frustration, feeling more alone than ever. “I don’t want your money. I don’t want trips or fancy dinners. I want you to care about me, Satoru. Not just the idea of me.”

His lips press into a thin line, but he says nothing. The silence is louder than any of his words.

As your hand grips the doorknob, ready to leave, Satoru’s voice cuts through the silence, sharp and bitter.

“Right, run off to Shoko’s.” he scoffs, his arms crossed defensively. “You always do this, don’t you? The moment things get tough, you bolt. Guess it’s easier to complain to her than actually deal with me.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, stopping you in your tracks. You turn slowly to face him, disbelief clouding your vision. He’s standing there, arms folded, arrogance in his posture.

“I always do this?” you repeat, your voice trembling with anger. “I’ve stayed through everything, Satoru!"

“You’re just like Suguru.” Satoru spits out, the words dripping with bitterness and desperation.

Your hand freezes on the handle. You weren’t expecting that. Slowly, you turn to look at him, and the mask of arrogance has cracked. His eyes are wild, wide with something close to panic. “Running away the moment things get hard,” he continues, his voice shaking slightly. “Is that it? Just gonna leave like he did?”

Your heart skips a beat, anger fading for a moment as something else stirs inside you. You’ve seen Satoru angry before, frustrated, even cold—but this? This is different.

“That’s not fair.” you say quietly, though the anger still simmers beneath the surface. “I’m not leaving because things are hard. I’m leaving because you’re not listening.”

Satoru’s eyes narrow, his lips pressing into a hard line. Then he snaps, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade, sharp and cold. “Well, fine. Go. I survived him abandoning me, I’ll survive you too.”

His words sting, burning through the air with a finality that makes your breath hitch. It’s a challenge, a defense—his way of masking the fear that’s clawing at him from the inside out. He’s pushing you away before you can leave, just like he’s done with everything else that’s threatened to crack his carefully controlled world.

You stand there, frozen for a moment, staring at him as his walls rise higher, shutting you out. This is what it’s come to. He’s too scared to let you in, too scared to admit that you leaving isn’t something he can just survive—that it’s something that terrifies him.

But he won’t say it. He won’t ask you to stay.

And that’s when you know.

Suguru Geto

You rest under the comfort of your blanket. How many days have you been in this bed? Three days? Four?

The world was just too much right now, and your room was the only security available. It had been a week since Suguru vanished without a word, leaving behind nothing but unanswered questions and broken trust. Principal Yaga’s words still echoed in your mind—a whole village slaughtered, his parents among the dead.

And not even a text.

You weren’t sure if he was even alive, maybe it would be better if he wasn’t. At least then you wouldn’t have to come to terms with the fact that the love of your life was now a wanted killer.

You took another tissue from the box, blowing into it and tossing the crumpled mess into the garbage can.

Satoru hadn’t responded either, was he okay? Did he know?

Your mind screamed for silence, for the thoughts to stop, but they kept coming, relentless.

“Angel?”

That voice… no it couldn’t be. You lower the covers from your face.

It was

“Hi baby...” his normally soothing voice does little to alleviate the ache in your chest.

“You…” your voice barely a whisper, threatening to break. “I thought you were dead.”

He moves closer, his footsteps barely making a sound on the floor, and you finally take him in. Despite everything, despite the horrors you’ve been told, he looks… normal.

How could he look so much like the Suguru you knew, the Suguru you loved, when everything inside of you was shattered?

Was this the same man who held you close? Whispered sweet nothings in your ear—promised to protect you with his life?

“It’s me, (Y/N).” he says softly, his voice cutting through the silence as if he had read your thoughts.

The tenderness in his tone feels like a knife twisting in your chest. How could he say that—so casually, so easily? Like everything was normal, like your world hadn’t come crashing down around you. You blink, trying to force the tears back, trying to find the right words, but nothing comes.

“Are you?” your voice is small, barely more than a whisper. Doubt lingers in every syllable.

He doesn’t respond to your question. Instead, his gaze softens, and without a word, he pulls the covers off of you. The cold air rushes over your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth you had buried yourself in, and for a moment you flinch, instinctively clutching the blanket before you let it slip from your fingers.

His eyes trace over your fragile form, and there’s something in them—a flicker of sympathy, regret, even—but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s the reason for your downward spiral. He knows it too. The weight of it presses on him, though he doesn’t say a word. Instead, he moves with a gentleness you hadn’t expected, sliding his arms under you and lifting you up as if you weighed nothing.

You want to protest, want to ask what he thinks he’s doing, but you’re too tired, too drained to fight. So you let him carry you. His arms are steady, and despite everything, you can’t help but melt in his embrace.

He takes you into the bathroom, the sound of running water filling the space as he sets you down gently. You can feel the cool tile under your feet as he kneels in front of the tub, turning the faucet on and testing the temperature.

You had so many things you wanted to say. You wanted to yell at him, curse him, ask him why. But you couldn’t.

He dips his hand under the stream, adjusting the temperature until it’s just right. His movements are deliberate, methodical, as if this is the only way he knows how to show you any kind of care right now.

You stand there, numb and silent, watching him. The man who destroyed your world, now kneeling before you, acting as though he can piece it back together with something as simple as a bath. It feels absurd, almost cruel, but at the same time, you don’t have the strength to stop him.

Suguru rises to his feet, his presence towering yet calm as he began to undress you. Gentle hands pulling his t-shirt off of you, the one you had been clinging onto for days.

His hands brush lightly against your skin as he lifts the shirt over your head, sending a shiver down your spine.

He had seen you in this state before, many times. But this….this was different.

Suguru guides you to the shower, washing your body with a gentleness you missed so deeply.

You close your eyes, letting him take care of you, even though you don’t understand why or how he can. The silence between you grows heavier with every passing second, filled with words unspoken and emotions too tangled to sort out.

Finally, you speak, your voice barely audible over the sound of the water. “Why are you here, Suguru?”

His hand pauses for a moment, the washcloth resting against your skin. You can feel the weight of his gaze on you, but when he answers, his voice is low, steady, like he’s speaking more to himself than to you.

“Because I….I love you” His voice almost too quiet, as if he’s afraid to say the words out loud.

“Then why, Suguru?” your voice trembles, almost breaking under the weight of your next words. “Is it true? You killed those people?”

The washcloth falls from his hand, splashing into the water as the silence between you deepens. He doesn’t speak right away, and the hesitation in his silence is an answer in itself.

You swallow hard, the air thick with the weight of the truth you already know but can’t bear to accept.

“They were… in the way,” he finally admits, his voice low, almost hollow.

You step out of the shower, the warm water sliding off your skin in slow rivulets. Without thinking, you reach for the towel, wrapping it tightly around yourself like armor.

This isn’t the man you loved, the one who spoke of protecting the weak, of valuing life. Yet, there’s something so heartbreakingly familiar in the way he says it—like a twisted version of the Suguru you knew, now wrapped in darkness.

“But those were people, Suguru,” you say, your voice fragile, as if you’re trying to reach the man you once knew beneath the monster he’s become. “Innocent people. How could you…?”

He takes a deep breath, stepping closer to you, his hand brushing against your skin, cold and distant. “Because this world is broken.” he murmurs. “And I need to fix it. I had to do it. Can’t you see that? We—sorcerers—we’re meant for something greater. And they… they were holding us back.”

You shake your head, tears brimming in your eyes. “I don’t understand, Suguru. I don’t understand any of this.”

He steps closer, his hand cupping your face gently, as though trying to reassure you with his touch. "Come with me." he whispers, his voice softer now, pleading. “Run away with me. Together, we can build something new. You don’t have to be a part of this broken world anymore. We can leave it all behind.”

Before you can respond, his lips press against yours, a kiss that’s both gentle and urgent, as though he’s trying to pour every unsaid word, every plea, into this one moment. It’s the Suguru you remember—the Suguru who once made you feel safe, loved.

But the reality of who he’s become crashes down on you.

You pull away, your hands pressed firmly against his chest, creating a wall between you. “No.” you whisper, your voice breaking. “I can’t.”

For a moment, Suguru just stands there, staring at you, his dark eyes searching yours for something—some kind of understanding, some sign that you’ll change your mind. His hand lingers on your cheek, his touch softer now, almost hesitant, as though he’s trying to hold on to whatever connection is left.

But then, slowly, he withdraws, his hand falling back to his side. He straightens up, his expression hardening as he steps away from you, giving you the space you so desperately need. The softness in his eyes fades, replaced by the cold determination you’ve seen before.

“You’ll see,” he says, his voice quiet, but there’s a sharp edge to it now. “One day, you’ll understand. When you see what I’ve seen, when you finally understand the truth about this world—you’ll come around. I know you will.”

His words hang heavy in the air, and without another glance, he turns and walks toward the door, leaving you standing alone, trembling in the silence.

Nanami Kento

Kento was an honest man. There was nothing he ever kept from you. Other people might view him as a hard shell, but you could read him like a book.

So when he came to bed that night, holding you just a little tighter than usual—you knew something was up.

You shifted slightly in his embrace, his grip tightening instinctively as if he feared you might slip away.

“Kento?” you asked softly, your voice breaking the stillness of the room.

“I’ve decided to talk to Gojo tomorrow.” he said quietly, his voice steady but with a hint of resolve. “I want to return to being a sorcerer.”

The words hung in the air, sinking into you like lead. You stiffened, a sharp sting blooming in your chest as you processed his decision.

“Are you seriously considering this?” Your voice trembled with a mix of hurt and disbelief. “You know what that life entails. You’ve seen the consequences. Are you really willing to go back to that danger?”

Kento’s silence was heavier than any response he could have given. His arms, though still holding you close, seemed distant now, as if they were reaching out from across a chasm of uncertainty.

“I’ve thought it through,” he said finally, though his tone lacked the conviction he tried to project. “I need to do this for myself. I can’t keep pretending I’m satisfied with where I am.”

The last words echoed in your ears their weight sinking deep into your heart. “So you’re not satisfied with me?” you whispered, barely able to speak past the knot forming in your throat.

Kento’s eyes widened in shock. “No, that’s not what I meant—”

“Then what is it, Kento?” you demanded, frustration and hurt sharpening your words. “We have something good here. You have a good job. You left Jujustu High for a reason! What about Haibara—”

At the mention of Haibara, Kento’s face hardened. His eyes, which had been searching for the right words, now burned with anger and frustration. “Don’t.”

Your eyes widen at his tone. He sighs, trying to catch himself. “This…isn’t about him, or his fate. It’s about my own path, my own choices. You think I’m risking everything without knowing the cost?”

“And what do you expect me to do, Kento?” Your voice cracked, raw emotion rising as you slid out of bed, unable to lie still any longer. “Sit at home and worry about you? Not knowing if you’re going to come back in one piece? I can’t live like that! I can’t live every day with the fear that you might not come back, that you might be hurt or worse?”

The silence that followed was suffocating. You paced the room, your emotions boiling over, while Kento sat still, his gaze following you but offering no solace.

“You’re asking me to accept a life where every day is a gamble with your safety!” You stopped, turning to face him, your chest heaving with emotion. “How am I supposed to do that? How am I supposed to pretend everything’s okay when the reality is that you might not come back to me? This isn’t just about you, Kento. It’s about us, our future!”

Kento ran a hand through his blond locks, frustration etched into every line of his face. “I’m not asking you to pretend it’s okay. I’m asking you to understand that this is something I need to do for myself, even if it means risking everything.”

You blinked, tears blurring your vision as his words sank in. “And what if everything we have is the cost?”

The question lingered, echoing in the space between you. Kento rose from the bed, standing tall before you, but the weight of the moment seemed to bow his shoulders.

He stepped closer, his hands trembling slightly as they cupped your face. His eyes, filled with a deep sadness, searched yours, looking for understanding that he knew might never come. “I love you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You need to know that.”

You shook your head, your voice breaking. “But that isn’t enough… is it? It never will be…”

There was a heavy silence between you, the weight of your words pressing down on both of you.

“I… can’t watch you throw your life away, Kento.”

He took a deep breath, the sound heavy with resignation. "Then… we’ve both made our decision."

His hands, which had held you with such tenderness, felt distant as you pulled away. You took a step back, a sob catching in your throat.

He opens his mouth, but no words come out with a trembling breath, he stepped forward and gently pulled you into his arms. The embrace was tender, filled with the weight of finality.

He buried his face in the curve of your neck, inhaling your scent one last time as if trying to imprint it into his memory. The warmth of his body, once a comfort, now felt like a dagger in your chest.

“I’m sorry.” he whispered, his voice strained. The words were barely audible, but the sentiment hung heavy in the air.

Kento lingered for a moment, his hand sliding from your back to gently cup your face. His thumb brushed away the tear you hadn’t realized had fallen, and his expression softened with a promise you weren’t sure either of you could believe.

“I’ll come back,” he whispered, his voice strained but resolute. “Somehow… I’ll find my way back to you. One day.”

You clung to him for a moment longer, feeling the ache of goodbye in every fiber of your being, before he slowly pulled away. Leaving you.

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whizzing-fizzbee · 3 months ago

Note

I’ve never seen anyone use this but can you do a fic about first time Ominis, and he slowly drags his wand down MC’s body to see her

Hi anon! I loved this request and hope it's what you were aiming for. I love when intimacy becomes much more than standard smut.

I'll Look After You

Ominis Gaunt x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit / MDNI (all characters are 18+) Words: ~3450 Summary: After you told your boyfriend, Ominis Gaunt, that you're ready to advance your relationship to the next level, he's nervous, especially since he can't see you. You show him you'll always be there to look after him. Tags: F/M, second person POV, reader insert, no y/n, smut, loss of virginity Notes: Characters are 18-year-old seventh-years.

Read below the cut.

Ominis Gaunt was easily overstimulated. That came as no surprise to those who knew him, given his sensitivity to sound and touch. Though he could not see, he always seemed to be acutely aware of everything happening around him.

That’s why the sound of the pelting rain already had him on edge. It’s not that he disliked rainfall; in fact, it often soothed him. But tonight, its harsh drumming against the extravagant windows of the Great Hall made him tense.

Ominis didn’t fear much these days. After all he’d been through, fear was an asinine concept. He’d survived a grueling childhood full of torture and torment. He’d watched his parents turn his siblings into pawns — all part of their grand chess match to maintain pureblood status. He’d lost his beloved Aunt Noctua to Salazar Slytherin’s sinister games. Then he’d watched his own best friend delve into the dark arts in desperation to save someone too damaged for repair.

But the most terrifying task Ominis had faced was you. You scared him more than any unforgivable curse or secret scriptorium. You were the only force that threatened to dismantle the great Ominis Gaunt, because you were the only person he loved.

But lucky for him, you loved him back.

Your relationship blossomed from the close bonds of friendship (rooted with traumatic ties, thanks to Sebastian Sallow) to a trusting romance crafted with quiet intimacy and mutual adoration. The past three months had been a daunting whirlwind of beautiful moments, but the most intimidating one was yet to come. And that’s why Ominis Gaunt was presently sweating over his roasted potatoes at dinner.

You were enjoying dinner at the Ravenclaw table, blissfully unaware of the war raging inside Ominis’ head. Or so he thought. In truth, you knew your boyfriend well enough to detect his trepidation days ago.

It started the previous weekend, when you and Ominis spent a quiet, cozy evening in the Undercroft. Sebastian had gone to Feldcroft, leaving your shared secret space reserved just for you and Ominis. It was then that you mentioned to Ominis you were ready to advance the nature of your relationship.

“Wh-what?” he stammered at your revelation. You smiled at him, though his cloudy eyes stared straight ahead.

“I think we should have sex,” you said, your tone steady and bold. “Don’t you?”

Ominis fiddled with the sleeve of his robe as he searched his mind for something to say. The honest, unabashed answer was yes – an irrefutable, resounding yes. But there was more to it than that. You knew that, but you also knew Ominis would be too apprehensive to say so.

He was a virgin. You weren’t, thanks to the summer before your sixth year when you had a fling with Garreth Weasley. You told Ominis so and he didn’t mind, though you knew that made the task even more daunting for him. You had something, someone to compare him to. Ominis had spent his entire life being told he didn’t measure up to his family’s lofty standards and demands; what if you decided the same?

“I suppose so,” Ominis admitted carefully. “But you know… you know I’ve never-”

“I know,” you interjected with a gentle tone. “And I promise, I’ll look after you. I always do, don’t I?”

Ominis nodded in silent agreement. He knew you would take care of him. You’d always gone out of your way to help him, whether it was fetching his ingredients during Potions class or helping him tie his shoelaces – without magic – because you enjoyed small acts of service to show him you cared. Ominis didn’t need your help – he had his wand for guidance and magic for completing tasks – but he allowed you to assist when you offered, because it was a mutual form of intimacy that had nothing to do with physical touch.

But now, you wanted physical touch. Ominis did, too – he’d wanted that since the day he met you, when his wand signaled something special about you when you neared. Sure, he nearly took your head off when he scolded you for daring to set foot in the Undercroft (again, Sebastian’s fault) but even then, something about your presence made Ominis stutter. Now that you were his, he spent a distressing amount of time thinking about you on a much more erotic level.

So now that you’d voiced your desires, Ominis had spent the past five days nervously preparing. You hadn’t pressured him – hell, you hadn’t even brought up the topic of sex since that evening in the Undercroft, but Ominis knew it would happen tonight. Sebastian was leaving for London to visit Anne at St. Mungo’s for the weekend.

Neither of you discussed it. There was no need. There seemed to be an unspoken agreement that it would happen tonight, and you were both preparing in your own ways.

Ominis was desperate to ensure everything would be perfect. Though he didn’t come across as a romantic at the surface, he’d fight like hell to make you happy. Of course, you regarded yourself as being fairly low-maintenance. You didn’t expect grand gestures, nor did you need to be swept off your feet. You merely wanted your boyfriend to remain the kind and gentle person you’d always known.

Regardless, Ominis had already made arrangements to have three-dozen peonies delivered to the castle – one bouquet for each month you’d been in an official relationship.

He also had plans to tidy up the Undercroft. He didn’t need eyesight to know the room was dingy and dusty, not quite the scene for romantic endeavors. He decided he’d try his damndest to make the place more cozy and less, well, creepy.

You and Ominis had plans to meet in the Undercroft at 8:00, but he slipped from the Great Hall, his food largely untouched, around 7:15 to prepare. When he noticed you were no longer seated at the Ravenclaw table, he assumed you had returned to Ravenclaw Tower to freshen up.

Ominis returned to the Slytherin dungeons to fetch the flowers that had arrived in the afternoon. He frowned as the tip of his wand hovered above the peonies. He realized he had asked for deep pink because it was your favorite, but he didn’t know what that actually meant, nor could he verify he’d received the right color. What if they were light pink, or white? Were they romantic enough? What if you were disappointed by them? He sighed and shook his head at his absurd anxieties before exiting the Slytherin Common Room.

He froze when he stepped into the Undercroft.

“Y-you’re early,” he stammered as he sensed your presence.

“So are you,” you mused. You couldn’t help but smile at Ominis’ clear disdain. You should have known he’d have the same idea as you.

You arrived an hour early to the Undercroft to make your own preparations. You’d transformed the old tattered sofa into something much more plush and comfy. The cobwebs that usually clung to the corners of the room were cleared, and the table that typically housed Sebastian’s old collection of dusty books was now covered with flickering candles.

Ominis blinked as his wand scanned the room, revealing your work. “But… but I was going to do all of this,” he said.

“You didn’t have to,” you laughed. “Besides, we both know I’m better at transfiguration spells anyway.”

“But I wanted to surprise you.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him. “Ominis, you know I don’t like surprises,” you pointed out. He sighed and extended the flowers toward you.

“All of those are for me?” you asked with a smile.

“No, they’re for Professor Sharp. Of course, they’re yours.”

You snorted at his sarcasm and took the bouquets. “I love this shade of pink,” you said happily as you conjured a large vase. “Though three bouquets is more than enough – rather excessive, honestly.”

“I wanted to do something nice for you.”

You gazed at him softly and moved toward him to hug him around the waist, the flowers forgotten on the table. “You always do nice things for me,” you noted after you pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Like helping me with my Divination assignments, and keeping me out of Azkaban.” You smirked as you watched the corners of his lips curve in a faint smile. “Anyway,” you continued as you tugged gently on Ominis’ hand to guide him toward the sofa. “Let’s sit. Tell me how your day was.”

In all honesty, neither of you gave a flying fuck about Ominis’ day, but you wanted him to feel at ease. It was the same type of day he always had and you both knew it. His evening would be much more interesting.

“It was fine,” Ominis replied, his voice edged with nervousness as he sat next to you, his wand resting at his side. You curled your feet beneath yourself and leaned on him to rest your head against his chest. You could practically hear his heart rattling. Though he was always warm, his frame felt particularly hot. He’d normally relax in your presence, melt at your fond touch, but right now, he was tense. His knuckles were white while his nails dug divots into his smooth palms.

It was exactly the kind of behavior that made you love Ominis to begin with. For as poised and proper as he always appeared, he became so pliable when it came to you. Tonight, though, you didn’t want him to feel flustered. You only wanted him to feel you.

“Ominis,” you started gently, your hand resting atop his. You squeezed it assuredly, as if it would ease his curled fist. When he unflexed his hand, you laced your fingers with his. “Just relax. It’s me.”

He nodded silently, his chest still puffed out.

“Maybe you should take your jacket off,” you offered. “It’s awfully hot in here, all these candles, you know?” You helped Ominis ease his jacket off and tossed it on the armchair across from you. “Better?”

“Better,” Ominis admitted, though his voice was a croak.

You began to wonder if this was a bad idea. Maybe he wasn’t ready for sex yet, and you surely were in no place to pressure him. You loved him far too much to ask him to do anything that made him uneasy. You’d done enough of that your fifth year during Sebastian’s little downward spiral.

But did Ominis know that? You realized you’d never outwardly told him you loved him. You were certain he’d felt it, but maybe he needed your reassurance, and this seemed like the right moment.

“Ominis,” you said carefully, your hands holding his. You paused, your eyes searching his expression for any sign you should stop yourself. But he remained patient, curious to know what you had to say. He always wanted to hear your thoughts. “You know I love you, right?”

Ominis’ eyes widened immediately. You watched him inhale sharply and held your own breath as you anticipated his response.

“You do?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Well, I love you too, you know.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

“I feel like I was supposed to be the one to say it first,” Ominis sighed. You rolled your eyes.

“How very chauvinistic of you,” you quipped. Ominis glowered at you and you grinned. “Now that that’s out of the way, I want you to know that we don’t have to do anything tonight,” you continued. “That’s not the point of our relationship. I’ll never ask you to do something you don’t want.”

“I know,” Ominis said quietly. “But I do want it. I just… want to get it right.”

“Nothing can happen tonight that will make me think any less of you,” you noted.

“I know,” Ominis said again. “I just wish I could see you. If I could only see one thing in this world, it’d be you.”

Your eyes softened at his admission. Ominis was often vulnerable with you, but he rarely discussed his vision. He’d come to terms with it long before he met you, but it still felt cruelly unfair that he couldn’t look at the one person he loved.

“Ominis,” you said softly. “I know you can’t see me. But it’s always felt like you can. You see me in ways no one else does. That’s why I love you.” You sat up straighter to turn and face him as you reached for his wand hand. You lifted it until the tip of his wand rested gently against your chest. “Besides, even if you can’t see me, you can feel me.”

Ominis’ breathing became louder; so loud, you started to grow concerned he was having some sort of respiratory attack. But when you shifted again to stand, he snapped a hand around your wrist. The tip of his wand remained pressed to your chest.

The air inside the Undercroft seemed to shift, as if it understood the change in both of your pulses. Now, the room hummed with a sultry energy, its braziers bouncing their flames above you.

Without another word, you slowly began to unbutton your blouse. You moved slowly and deliberately, allowing the tip of Ominis’ wand to detect your every move. Its ruby tip cast a soft glow across your skin until you were bare chested.

“Ominis,” you said steadily as you stood. You slid your shirt all the way off and added your skirt and undergarments to the pile on the floor, leaving you fully exposed. “I want you to feel me. I want you to take your time and feel me until you can picture me.”

Ominis stood, his wand guiding him to your waiting form. You held your breath as your heart began to thump. The cool tip of his wand found your shoulder and traced gently over the ridge of your collarbone. It sent a shiver down your spine.

When the wand reached your chest, Ominis stopped. You could sense his hesitation to explore you on such an intimate level, but you remained patient. Slowly, the crimson tip cast itself against your right breast and followed the curve until it reached your nipple. You drew a shaky breath, though Ominis was breathing heavier.

As Ominis’ wand found your other breast, its tip showing him the goosebumps scattered across your flesh, you couldn’t help but notice the bulge forming in his pants. When you licked your bottom lip in arousal, Ominis seemed to sense it. He shifted from one foot to the other, his flushed cheeks matching the glow of his wand.

“Keep going,” you whispered as you felt the wand tip drag toward your stomach. Ominis obliged and you could feel the heat swelling in your core. The wand inched lower and lower, tickling your skin until it glided past your belly button and drifted outward to your left hip bone. It took every ounce of control to contain the urge to buck your hips forward. Instead, you held still, waiting for Ominis to continue.

You could feel the conflict clashing inside of him. He wanted this just as much as you did, but he was terrified by the prospect of any shortcoming.

“Do you trust me?” you breathed. He nodded without pause. You reached for his wand hand to guide it over your body, pulling the tip away from your hips toward the space between your thighs. It hovered there as Ominis’ eyes stared blankly ahead, his jaw clenched in anticipation. The bulge in his trousers was now a tight peak.

You dipped the tip of his wand until it touched your slit. If Ominis hadn’t sensed your arousal earlier, it was evident now. His hand began to shake beneath yours.

“Just breathe,” you whispered. You weren't sure if you were talking to Ominis or to yourself.

Ominis nodded and guided his wand until it pressed gently against your clit. You whined at the touch, your eyes falling shut. Ominis’ knuckles grew taut around his wand handle, as if he could feel your pulse surging through the wood. His hand continued to shake. The shudder sent a jolt through your tiny bundle of nerves and you moaned.

“You’re so beautiful,” Ominis murmured.

It was a special moment upheld by mutual trust; you, trusting Ominis with his wand and power pointed at your most vulnerable spot; Ominis, trusting you to see everything for him.

You released his hand. He seemed surprised, but you already had a plan in mind.

“Can we continue?” you asked gently. He nodded.

You took a step backward toward the sofa and Ominis immediately missed the connection between his wand and your body. But you decided he no longer needed it. You plucked the wand from his hand and rested it on the side table.

“Don’t worry,” you whispered. “Now that you've seen me, you can feel me. I’ll look after you, remember?”

You guided him by the front of his shirt to sit, your fingers pulling his shirt buttons open as you stood over him. You dragged your outstretched palms across his bare chest and slipped his shirt off.

When you went for his belt buckle, his hands gripped the back of the sofa. He made his best attempt at composure as he listened to you undress him from the waist down. When he was fully unclothed, your eyes scanned him in quiet observation.

You couldn’t believe the two of you had managed to find each other in a life so full of chaos and cruelty. Fate could have dropped you anywhere on the map, or at any point in time, yet here you were, together.

For as wicked as life had been for you both, you felt so fucking lucky to have found Ominis Gaunt.

He sat rigid, unsure what to make of your silence, so you decided that occupying your mouth would occupy his overactive brain. You dropped to your knees in front of him and took him into your mouth. He gasped at the sudden warmth.

Your tongue flattened against his velveteen flesh as you dragged it along his length. When you reached the tip, you wrapped your lips tight and sucked until he glided toward the back of your throat. He moaned above you. As you bobbed your head and familiarized yourself with the only part of Ominis you hadn't known, his fingers tangled in your hair. You couldn’t help but relish the knowledge you were the only one to ever afford him with such pleasure. But you were also desperate for your own.

You released him and climbed on top of him, your legs straddling his thighs.

“Alright?” you asked. You peered at him with affection, searching for any sign that indicated he was unsure.

“Alright. You?”

“Alright.” You smiled and pulled him into a soft kiss. “Still trust me to look after you?”

“Of course.”

With Ominis’ blessing, you eased yourself downward until the tip of his cock prodded your entrance. You felt his breath hitch as you sank lower, slowly and carefully as you willed yourself to relax. The mounting pressure made your slick walls flinch.

“You feel so fucking good,” Ominis groaned. It was enough to make you giggle. Ominis rarely ever cursed. You welcomed the light moment, your laughter easing your body’s tension.

Once Ominis had you filled, his hands felt for your waist. You rocked forward and moaned at the way your walls molded around his cock. You lifted your hips slowly and dipped downward again until you both adjusted to your new bond. It was a dizzying moment, made possible by an intense adoration and the shared desire to prove it.

“You’re so hard,” you whimpered as you drove your hips downward, certain his size could split you apart if you weren’t careful — not that caution was present anywhere in your brain at the moment.

Instead, you hastened your pace in search of the imminent high. The sounds of your slick union carried across the Undercroft until your moans drowned them out. Your nails pricked against the skin of Ominis’ shoulders but neither of you paid any mind. All feeling was focused on the friction between your legs.

Your back arched as Ominis’ cock prodded your sweet spot, your bobbing hips rutting your most sensitive patch over his tip. The chorus of your moans reached its peak as you felt your walls start to flutter. Your attempt to cry his name slipped out as a choked whimper as your body crashed downward for the last time, the pressure from Ominis’ cock triggering your release.

He didn’t need to see you to sense the way your body responded to him. It provoked his own climax and soon, he was spilling into you with a sharp gasp until his frame relaxed.

You both caught your breaths, your chests rising and falling in sync as you said nothing. The Undercroft felt cool again, as if it knew it could return to its normal state.

“Are you okay?” you asked gently, your eyes studying Ominis carefully.

“Of course,” he rasped. He gazed at you with a fresh, calm affection; much different from the nervous wreck he’d been earlier. His hand drifted from your hip up the curve of your waist until it cupped your face. “Thank you for always being so good to me.”

You smiled slyly and pecked a kiss to his flushed cheek. “Told you I’d look out for you.”

#mdni #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt x you #ominis gaunt x mc #hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt fanfiction #ominis gaunt fanfic #ominis gaunt smut #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy smut #whizzing fizzbee fanfic #whizzing fizzbee requests

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contract-crawdad · 26 days ago

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Apartment 21 Theories and Headcanons

Let’s overthink Lyle’s weird as hell living space.

First off! The titular Lyle! Going to try to keep this section limited to what we can learn about Lyle through his apartment rather than just thoughts about Lyle himself, as he is possibly the single most-discussed character in the whole game. And we can infer a lot!

Jeanne’s dialogue confirms that apartment 21 is actually Lyle’s apartment, seeing as she does consider him her neighbor. It’s not a situation where Lyle moved into someone else’s abandoned apartment after the apocalypse started.

The D&D M&W stuff makes it clear that Lyle’s a fan of tabletop games! Do you suppose he’s part of an ongoing group, or is he looking for people to play with? It can be so hard to find a local playgroup! I like to think he and Edwin had a group going, maybe with a few other astronomers involved.

Considering we get the crossword book from him but also that it’s completely unstarted, I assume that it’s one of those things that’s he’s been meaning to get around to but never quite found the time (been there, buddy).

We can find anxiety meds in Lyle’s bathroom! Which is a minor if interesting detail. Lyle really does get more and more relatable.

Funnily enough, one thing that we don’t see in his apartment that we should be in there is the zoom lens that Edwin’s loan log says Lyle is currently borrowing! But considering his partly mechanical form, it’s possible that the zoom lens is simply part of his body now.

Lyle’s dark room! I’d wager Mr. Henderson wouldn’t exactly approve if it’s existence if he were to ever find out. This strikes me as something that breaks some kind of agreement found in you average renter’s agreement.

Notably you can only ever access the dark room if you kill Lyle to get the key! He doesn’t grant you entry under any circumstance, and it’s not exactly hard to see why considering what his ‘special project’ is.

On that note, Lyle will never attack you! It is impossible to get him to be the one to instigate a fight, you have to attack him out of the blue.

The photos of Sam make it clear that Lyle’s affection for Sam isn’t a new development by any means.

More concerningly, though, is the key you can find between two of the bookshelves. It’s SAM’S apartment key, which the more eagle-eyed and elephant-memoried of you out there will recall is the spare that’s missing from the plant outside Sam’s apartment! It’s dubious as to whether or not Lyle has ever used the key.

As far as I’m aware, the key has no actual purpose other than to serve as an ominous reminder of Lyle’s obsession.

What the fuck is Lokjaw’s deal. Seriously. Lyle. Why do you have a man in your unlocked closet? I can excuse the hamburger man you have locked in your bedroom (we’ll get to him), but this is just ridiculous.

My thought on why Lokjaw hasn’t just left the (completely unlocked) closet is because their mental state has deteriorated to the point where they cannot operate a door. Maybe they don’t even recognize that a door is a thing that leads to another place anymore.

But that’s assuming Lokjaw was ever human to begin with! I’ve seen theories that they were Lyle’s dog (credit to @crankyteapot once more), which would explain the mutant’s posture, strange lower jaw, and why they’re in Lyle’s closet in the first place!

But considering that there’s no dog bowl, no collar, and no reaction from Lyle if you kill Lokjaw? I’d wager that if they are a dog, they’re not Lyle’s dog, but rather just some random already-mutated dog he came across! It went sniffing around the closet and Lyle just shut the door behind it. This making it a problem for future Lyle.

Lokjaw does drop raw pork if you kill it, which is… hmm. Something.

I… don’t think there’s any pleasant explanation as to why it drops raw pork actually.

Something about Lokjaw, whether human or canine, makes me think they had a very nervous disposition. There’s something so defensive about their posture, and their facial expression seems so scared! Unfortunately for us, this translates to the mindset of ‘kill the thing that is scaring me’.

Unfortunately, the reason for Tumorhead’s presence in apartment 21 isn’t any clearer than Lokjaw’s! If anything it’s stranger because he’s in what appears to be Lyle’s bedroom, and he’s even locked in there by those strange fleshy growths.

On thing IS clear: the hamburger found around the room is pretty clearly implied to be meat that’s fallen off of a Tumorhead himself, judging by what happens in battle. Sam is the bravest man alive for taking this meat and cooking it.

@crankyteapot pointed out a few visual similarities between Tumorhead’s clothing and the Onlookers, and I could see there being a connection!

I really love the idea that Tumorhead, having looked outside but while still human, stumbled drunk into Lyle’s apartment and collapsed into his bed (with Lyle being too timid to correct them). The poor guy nursing a splitting headache that manifested very viscerally as his metamorphosis completed in his sleep.

Located in Lyle’s bathroom, we finally have an easy-to-explain mutant presence! The broken-down door makes it pretty clear that this guy forced his way in from F1 through Lyle’s shortcut.

Since this guy is pretty clearly implied to be from F1, I wonder if he has any association with that one gigantic eye in the unnumbered rooms? On one hand there’s some surface level similarities, but on the other hand Eyecluster’s eyes are functionally distinct: they’ve been modified into acid-launchers and it’s unclear if he can still see out of any of them!

My favorite detail is how Eyecluster’s posture seems off balance from the sheer volume of eyes he has, it’s a neat touch that conveys just how ungainly their newly added parts are! And I adore how the Visitor’s effects clearly don’t care about what an organ USED TO do. Your eyeballs spit acid now. Your hair can eat things. Your tongue is easier to get around on than your legs.

This is nothing but pure headcanon, but I like to think that on the morning Eyecluster beheld the Visitor, he woke up wearing contact lenses that he’d left on overnight by mistake. The unpleasant sensation in his eyes ended up heavily influencing the results of his transformation.

It’s what you all came here for, it’s LYLE BATHTUB THEORY TIME!!

So. Lyle’s bathtub. It’s weirdly long, right? And that’s not just sprite perspective weirdness! The comically long bathtub has actual inspection dialogue that reads ‘huh this thing is long as hell, weird huh?’ and it also points out that the whole room looks stretched. Sure enough, the less conspicuous but still very conspicuous counter across from it is also weirdly long!

But why? I’ll tell you why. I think Leigh stretched Lyle’s bathtub. it’s not what’s INSIDE the bathroom, but rather OUTSIDE!

The other side of the south bathroom wall is the hallway where Leigh chases you. You know, the hallway that she supernaturally lengthened so she could have more fun chasing Sam. Not only that, but this chase is required in order to access Lyle’s apartment in the first place, you cannot access Lyle’s bathroom without having done the Leigh chase!

So Leigh’s space-warping chase tunnel seems to have had some lasting effects on the adjoining rooms! Which makes sense. Sure, Leigh has some kinda of vague elongating powers, but you can’t tell me she knows how they work or how to use them in a way that doesn’t have some lingering effects.

Hopefully it’s helpful to Lyle! I mean, he’s larger now. He definitely would not fit comfortably into a normal bathtub, but on the other hand it’s also questionable if he even can bathe, what with all his mechanical parts.

#apartment analysis #look outside #look outside game #look outside spoilers #sam #leigh #lyle #lokjaw #eyecluster #tumorhead #what do I tag that giant eyeball as?#lyle what the fuck man at lest deal with ONE of the monsters that has taken up residence in your home #you are literally stronger than all of them

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zeropro · 3 months ago

Note

So I’ve seen you draw and tag a couple of different ships, just wondering which are your favorite???

Love your art btw :D

Thank you!

I don’t have a specific ship i'm particularly loyal to, so I guess I’ll rate them and also provide my own headcanons:

(disclaimer i dont know ship names so imma just try my best)

Trine-shipping: yes, put the three of them together, I don’t care. familial, sexual, romantic, platonic, its all good. I go crazy seeing them stand next to each other in the cartoon what do you want from me.

thunderwarp: I see this one a lot and I quite like it. these two being mates with starscream doing his own thing kinda makes sense considering starscream has a bunch of other ships. also makes it fun when something happens to one of them and starscream is left in the awkward position of having to deal with that.

thunderstar: been thinking about this one more lately. they’re like foils to each other. thundercracker’s a good boy to starscream’s bad boy, and he does such a concern about all the morally dubious stuff starscream gets up to. but at the same time, he admires starscream’s ambition and rizz and starscream the kinda bot that would pull you so high if you followed him. I think out of anyone, starscream is the closest to actually trusting thundercracker.

starwarp: i had this thought one time of what if skywarp is like the horniest asexual and starscream is the most traumatized aromantic, and how would that even work XD nothing solid in the works just an idea that I had. ive seen these two less often outside of trine shipping but it can be pretty hot. I like when they are being protective of each other. I always see skywarp as more emotionally open than his trinemates and starscream can use some of that open and honest emotional love and care. someone to forcfully make him accept being loved. someone who will actually push back when he’s being stupid. and with skywarp being loyal to megatron, so much angst potential for both of them.

starbee: im a sucker for the whole ghost bee starscream dynamic. I already made a post about these two, and after all this time I still really enjoy this ship. I think characters that don’t actually like each other at first but grow into a mutual respect is so tasty. I think some people don’t like the ship because they headcanon bee as too young? well, starscream is actually younger in my fic lmao, but also they’re like 6 million years old and are born with full adult processing capabilities, I don’t think age matters here :P its less about intimacy for me anyway. I like them together because of how much it takes to get there.

starwavewave: okay this one is 100% fueled by tfone but guyssss guysss theyre married and megatron is their son and im just aaaagh dont seperate them! such a kookie dynamic, the cool headed soundwave, the emotionally volatile shockwave, the arrogant yet cowardly starscream, all being fail dads to their little scamp leader. hahaha. high command polycule

megastar: gasp, rated above skystar. yes, I just find this dynamic more interesting. I like an abusive ship sometimes for the angst but I also enjoy seeing megatron when he isnt abusive? kinda catharsis maybe. I read a fic once where the war is over and starscream invites megatron to one of optimus’ high profile parties and is appalled at megatron showing up in robot equivalent of underdressed, meanwhile megatron the working class miner is like “I washed, what else was I supposed to do” XD and I just love that haha. theres just so many ways to take it. I wont be doing any megastar in my au, I just tag anything that has megatron and starscream interacting with megastar cuz thats the dynamic to me

skystar/jetstar: iddkkkkk i know this is the most popular ship but it’s just!! idk! its not as interesting to me haha. I love this as a past ship, they were roommates in college, starscream opened himself to someone, chose to become close and then was hurt by it. just another wound on starscream’s spark before he ever even meets megatron. I don’t think theyd get back together after the ice. idk how well I can write this so I’ll just explain how it happens in my au here: skyfire died and starscream created this version of skyfire in his mind that was perfect, he memorialised him because he was dead! you just cant live up to how someone remembers you. I think that was part of the reason why starscream reacts so badly when skyfire “betrayed” him. unlike thundercracker, skyfire knows how to set healthy boundaries. not to mention he’d been on ice for four million years, lost his entire life, everyone he knows, and his entire civilisation, planet, and culture to a war he had no part in. bot’s gonna be upset. pissed off even. skyfire shouldnt have to be some soft sparked punching bag for starscream, he’s kind and a pacifist but he’s also going to get upset and have feelings. I think starscream’s betrayal would hit pretty hard, he’d gonna be upset about how much starscream’s changed, how much damage starscream helped cause during the war, and also starscream shooting him in the back for wanting to protect the native wildlife! when they properly talk to each other again it’s going to be heated on both sides, and I think after some hard work from both sides they could end up in a place where they are willing to be friends again, but I don’t think they’d conjunx. skystar isnt end game to me, but it is canon and an important part of the story

starop: I think ive read one fic where I really liked this ship. it’s just such a random pairing. my initial reaction is just noooo optimus prime?? but that guy’s everyone’s dad! Ive been told a big part of it is they’re both megatron’s ex’s and that’s pretty funny. not for me sadly haha (opxmegatronoldmanyaoiotpfrfr)

starjack…wheelstar? whatever the starscream and wheeljack one is. I’m not into this one. I see where people are coming from with it, but wheeljack isnt an interesting character to me. they can be science bros tho

starscream and windblade: ive seen this like once or twice. not for me. windblade is like, starscream’s daughter or something idk XD

soundstar: uuuh i dont see it. sorry! i legit have no thoughts on soundstar. theyre coworkers XD. ive seen fics where the seekers are really young and soundwave moms them, and that’s really cute. okay, I like soundwave as a caretaker if the seekers are young, but yeah I don’t think I understand this one.

shockstar: nooooooo. tho ironically theres more canon content there to fuel this one than soundstar (is this emotion?) but still no XD I don’t even hate shockwave! let him be sunstorm’s dad, that’s cute. but no, shockewave too creepy. no ship. they are also coworkers

what other ship is there even? oh yeah

starprowl: this is apparently a really popular ship?! I guess in a way prowl is sort of like the autobot’s starscream, undermining his leader, arrogant, willing to do the dubious play. they’re both ruthless. I like this one better than starjacked, but its still an odd pairing to me.

oh! knockout and starscream, i can kinda see it? like, as a rebound after breakdown? I like knock out and breakdown, so I’d only see these two as like friends or if something happened to breakdown. they’re a LOT of fun when they interact tho heh heh, perfectly clashing personalities

on the topic of tfp, I guess starscream and arcee is a ship? I can see this similar to my enjoyment of starbee, they’d have to work reeaally hard for this one to work but they have had potentially positive interactions in the show (before starscream screws it up) so its possible in a better world where starscream doesnt suck they could become friends. him killing cliffjumper is gonna be a huge hurdle tho!

dont talk to me about airachnid

do people ship starscream and ratchet? I don’t ship it, but I do really like interactions between them. starscream is so terrible but he also gets hurt a lot. ratchet is grumpy and prejudice but he’s the best doctor and he’ll fix him up! I like when something terrible happens to starscream and ratchet cant help but feel bad for the guy. that’s the good stuff.

lastly i have been asked a few times on trinebee. im assuming this is bumblebee and the trine. i hadnt thought about it but it makes sense! if youre a starbee shipper, but you also support trine propaganda, then it only makes sense to bring bee into the trine. also bee and thundercracker are friends! the only ones who havent really had any interaction is bee and warp, and honestly idk if I see those two getting along but bumblebee is everybody’s friend so XD I’m sure it’ll work out!

and i think those are all the thoughts i have on the ships!

no hate on anyone who ships any of these!!! you all do what you do, these are just my opinions, and honestly I’m just not a huge shipper to begin with haha. I am…unsure if there will be any shipping content in my au, I write my scenarios very much “canon but to the left” and so it comes out very sex-less because romance and intimacy is just not the type of content I’m in the business of writing. but, idk, i think about it sometimes. sometimes I think about the end of chapter one of thundercracker’s origin, the night starscream took thundercracker out on a not-date. i think, who knows, in some version of the story maybe they shared a kiss? maybe they went back to the apartment and things went further? maybe. but of course, in every version of the story, starscream is gone the next morning.

happy valentrine’s day!

#transformers #starscream #skywarp #thundercracker #transformers shipping #opinions #megatron #skyfire

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deliciousangelfestival · 3 months ago

Text

Change of Heart - 4 | Bucky

Character: Bucky x Female! Reader

Theme: Angst, tragedy, romance.

Summary: The interviewer asked her a provocative question:

“If you were offered a million dollars, would you leave your partner?”

Without hesitation, she replied with a smirk, “Give me one dollar, and I’ll leave him this second.”

True to her word, she walked away, leaving the man stunned and searching for answers. Now, he’s desperately trying to find her, grappling with the haunting question—why would she leave him so easily?

And is there more to her departure than a single dollar could ever explain?

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5.

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

By the way, I publish my book Arrogant Ex-Husband and Dad, I Can't Let You Go by Alina C. Bing on Kindle.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

You floated on the open sea, arms stretched out, weightless against the gentle pull of the waves. The sky above was endless, painted in hues of soft blue and white, the sun warm against your skin. Closing your eyes, you whispered, “I’ve wasted my life.”

Swimming in the open sea, you let the water seep into the emptiness inside you, hoping it could fill the void that nothing else could.

The vastness of the ocean mirrored the hollowness in your chest—a space once filled with ambition, competition, and the relentless pursuit of approval. Now, there was nothing. No goal. No purpose. Just a lingering ache, stretching endlessly like the horizon. You wondered if this was what it felt like to surrender—to stop fighting, to stop wanting, to simply exist.

Maybe that was why you swam so far from the shore. Because, for the first time, you weren’t chasing anything. You weren’t proving anything. You weren’t running toward or away.

You were just here.

Anyone seeing you like this would call you insane—adrift in the middle of nowhere, surrendering to the ocean as if it held all the answers. If it were the old you, you would have been furious at the thought. The old you would have fought back, defended yourself, proved them wrong. But now? Now, you were fine with it.

You felt reborn as if shedding the weight of everything you once thought mattered.

This marriage contract was supposed to be a shortcut—a way to secure wealth without the hassle of love, without emotional complications. That was the plan.

But love was a thirst that couldn’t be easily quenched. And the cruelest part? The person you loved didn’t even believe in it.

Sometimes, the hardest thing to do is let go. Love is messy. Love is unpredictable. And love doesn’t always work.

On paper, becoming Bucky Barnes’ wife had been enough. It had given you everything you wanted. Prestige. Power. Validation. More importantly, it had given you the one thing you had chased your whole life—your father’s approval.

You could still see it so clearly—the way his expression shifted the moment you told him you had married Bucky, heir to the Lena Group. His disbelief, the way his pride cracked just slightly before morphing into something else. Something like admiration. And when Bucky officially became CEO? That was the first time you had ever seen pride on your father’s face, directed at you.

It was intoxicating.

That was when you realized—you had finally beaten him. For the first time in your life, you had surpassed him.

Growing up with a father like yours meant winning was everything. He had shaped you into a competitor, someone who measured success not by personal happiness but by how high you could climb compared to others—especially compared to him.

It was never enough to be good. You had to be the best.

Even when you excelled, even when you got into the top university, it wasn’t impressive enough. He had done it before you. He had already conquered that path. “Been there, done that,” he had said, dismissing your achievements as if they were insignificant.

That was the moment you realized academic success would never be enough for him. So, you changed the game.

If you couldn’t impress him by following in his footsteps, you would surpass him in a way he never expected. You would rise higher than him, take something he could never take back.

And you did.

Bucky Barnes was your golden trophy, the proof of your victory. The contract marriage had been your ultimate power move. Even if love was off the table, even if you wrestled with the dangerous feelings creeping in, it didn’t matter—because you had won.

But then love took root, slowly and silently. And before you knew it, your greatest triumph had become your deepest weakness.

Falling in love with Bucky was never part of the plan. You admitted it to yourself—it was your mistake. You should have never allowed feelings to grow, not when you knew exactly how he felt about love, about romance, about anything remotely affectionate.

But even the coldest mountain can melt. And the walls you built around your heart? They didn’t come crashing down all at once. No, they eroded slowly, day by day, worn away by the time you spent with him.

You had everything you thought you wanted—money, connections, status. Everything you once craved was finally within your grasp, all because of him.

And that was the most dangerous part.

Because once something is fulfilled, the hunger for more only intensifies.

At first, it was manageable. Just fleeting thoughts, stolen glances that you convinced yourself meant nothing. But the more time you spent with him, the stronger the desire became—wanting something you could never have. Scarcity breeds obsession, and Bucky, without even realizing it, had become the one thing you couldn’t stop longing for.

His presence didn’t help. He was considerate but distant, dominant yet effortless in his role. He played the part so perfectly that sometimes, you forgot it was all an illusion. And that made it worse. Because even though you knew the rules, your heart refused to listen.

You had spent your entire life getting what you wanted. But now, there was one thing you couldn’t have.

Your own husband.

By the second year, you weren’t pretending anymore. The way you looked at him, the way you touched him, the way your chest ached at his smallest gestures—it was all real.

It became unbearable.

Then, just two days before the contract was set to end, something happened. A shift so profound that it shattered something deep inside you.

Your father went bankrupt.

And just like that, the man who had spent his entire life building an empire, who had made you believe that life was a relentless competition, who had pushed you beyond your limits to ensure that you would never come second—walked away.

Without a fight. Without resistance. Without regret.

And the worst part?

He looked… content.

"You tried so hard to impress me," he said, his voice almost gentle. "I’m sorry. This time, live the life you want to."

His words should have freed you. Instead, they hollowed you out.

"What the hell was that?"

The man who had built you into a warrior had surrendered without a battle. The man who made you believe that winning was everything—had stopped playing the game. And now, he expected you to do the same?

For so long, your life had a singular purpose: beat him. Surpass him. Make him acknowledge you, respect you, fear you.

But now, he was gone.

And what was left of you without him?

Nothing.

The fight was gone. The battlefield was empty. The war was over. And yet, instead of victory, all you felt was loss.

Because when your entire existence is built around a single goal, what happens when that goal disappears?

Aimless. Directionless. Floating.

You wandered through each day like a ghost. Because if you weren’t trying to win, then what were you supposed to do? Who were you supposed to be?

You had always defined yourself by the pursuit.

Now, without it, you weren’t sure you existed at all.

You felt eternally useless. Adrift. Like a ship lost at sea with no compass, no anchor, no destination. But at least, for now, you still had something to hold on to—the contract marriage.

Even if it was slipping through your fingers.

Even if the one thing keeping you grounded was also the very thing pulling you under.

Because no matter how much you tried to ignore it, the truth was suffocating: you had fallen in love with Bucky.

And it was a love that would never be returned.

You had asked him once, on a quiet night when the walls between you felt thinner than usual. After nearly two years together, after countless stolen moments that made you question everything, you let the words slip out.

"What do you think about love?"

Bucky clicked his tongue, barely sparing you a glance before answering.

"If I could use all my money, I would erase romance from this earth."

You had heard many things from him before. Cold things. But this? This still caught you off guard.

Because the way he treated you—his attention, his protectiveness, the way he seemed to make you the center of his world—would have fooled anyone. It had fooled you.

And yet, his view of love remained unshaken.

It was in that moment you knew.

This was never going anywhere.

You just needed a sign. Something to push you over the edge, to force you to let go before you drowned completely.

Then, one day, it came.

A street interview. Some random internet guy shoving a microphone into strangers’ faces, asking them, "Would you leave your partner for a million dollars?"

It was supposed to be a joke. A meaningless question. But when you heard it, something inside you snapped.

It felt like time stopped. Like the entire weight of your past two years came crashing down in that one ridiculous, absurd moment.

You had millions in your bank account. More than you could ever need. But what was the point of it all when your heart was empty?

Your lips parted before you could stop yourself.

"If you gave me a billion, I’d consider it."

The interviewer, a college kid chasing internet fame, blinked at you, clearly caught off guard. You knew he didn’t have a billion dollars. He probably had student loans drowning him.

So, out of pity—or maybe out of desperation—you sighed.

"Give me a dollar."

He hesitated. Then, amused, he pulled out a single crumpled bill and placed it in your palm.

And somehow, that was enough.

That one dollar.

That was all it took to change everything.

That one dollar carried more weight than the millions sitting untouched in your bank account.

That one dollar made you walk into the agency and tell the CEO you weren’t renewing the contract.

That one dollar gave you the strength to face Bucky, even though leaving him felt like ripping your heart straight out of your chest.

That one dollar made you drop the sleeping pills into Bucky’s tea, ensuring he wouldn’t wake up before you were gone.

That one dollar gave you the courage to pack your bags and leave before you lost the nerve.

Leaving suddenly felt childish. Reckless.

But it was better this way. Better to vanish before you changed your mind.

Better to make Bucky hate you.

Because making him hate you was easy.

Hating him? That was impossible.

Because he had no flaws—at least, none that made him unlovable. If he were cruel, if he were indifferent, if he had betrayed you even once, then maybe, just maybe, you could hate him enough to walk away without regret.

But he wasn’t.

He was the perfect storm—brilliant, sharp, magnetic. The kind of man who could make you believe in things he didn’t even believe in himself.

And that was the cruelest part of all.

So you ran.

Not because you were weak.

But because staying would have destroyed you.

Join the taglist:

@thezombieprostitute

@bellamoret

@bucky-baby-barnes

@greatenthusiasttidalwave

@paryl

@pattiemac1

@kjah97

@danzer8705

@singsosworld

@mrsnikstan

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@sebastians-love

@irishhappiness

@kmc1989

@440mxs-wife

@longpondlibrary

@giovax

@ruexj283

@almosttoopizza

@baw1066

Author Note:

Sorry for the sudden lack of updates. I just ran my first 5K marathon two days ago, and it was so much fun! I made great memories with my friends and even met new people.

But the aftermath—OMG! My thighs and knees were screaming for help. Lol.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky barnes au #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #buckybarnes #angst #drama #romance #psychology

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kayentokk · 1 year ago

Note

Hey :) How are you doing?

Okay so, i wanted to request a platonic father Aizawa in which he is out patroling and he finds his teen daughter doing something ilegal with her friends or something like that.

Please and thankss :)

A/N; I’m okay thanks for asking! Love this idea, I’ve gotten many requests somewhat related to this lately actually! I’ll be posting those throughout the week. Also sorry it’s taken me a while to get to this! 🥲 I truly believe Aizawa is a girl dad and a softie parent.

Pairing; Platonic!Father Aizawa x Fem!Daughter Reader

Contains; a little ooc Aizawa, fluff, soft, drug mentions, reader is about 16-17 like mha characters, quirk-less reader, death mentions, bad friends, comfort

wc; 1,763

You weren’t supposed to get caught. In fact, you didn’t even think you would. It wasn’t a big deal anyways, you only did it because you thought it’d be a way to relax with your friends. Plus, if you guys did get caught your backup plan was your father. It wasn’t like he was going to detain you…right?

Wrong.

You were very wrong to believe that your father wouldn’t take you into custody over a little weed with your friends. You just wanted to have fun! Besides, you didn’t want to be the ‘perfect heroes daughter’ who’s a buzzkill. Why couldn’t he understand that?

There was just so much pressure that came with being the child to a hero. Your friends already joked about how you were too ‘good’ to do anything remotely illegal. Which is part of the reason you were in this situation in the first place.

Of course he just happened to be patrolling around the alley you and your friends decided to get a little high in. That was just your luck, he didn’t seem mad though. So you thought he’d just tell you guys not to do it anymore, and move on. Nope. Leave it to Aizawa to want to teach you a ‘lesson’ all of a sudden. He was normally just a “don’t do it again,” kind of parent. Mostly because you had never done anything of this caliber before.

“Did you really have to bring me in?”

Silence.

“I mean come on, none of the other heroes care. They’re too busy thinking about protecting the city, shouldn’t you be too? Nobody cares about a couple of kids getting a little buzzed, besides everyone does it nowadays-“

“That doesn’t make it okay y/n.”

You’ve rarely seen him like this, so tense. He didn’t look angry, but you couldn’t shake the feeling you got that he was. It was almost….scary.

So you resigned to a simple, “Okay, I’m sorry.” Were you really sorry though? Not that much, you still didn’t see the big deal.

He let out a low grunt, “This is serious y/n, I know you think I’m making a big deal out of nothing,” well he said it first, “but you could’ve been seriously hurt.”

“Hurt? From getting a little high?”

“Criminals lace that stuff all the time, whether it’s with poison, more drugs, or whatever else they decide-“

“Yeah sure, but we got it from a trusted source-“

“And who’s that?” He said crossing his arms.

Oops.

You decided it’d be best not to respond right now. Especially since the source wasn’t technically trusted, just another kid who got it from someone else. Who probably got it from someone else too.

Sensing your apprehension he decide to drop it, “we’ll revisit that later,” he said waving a dismissive hand. “I’ll drop you off at home, you’re grounded.”

You internally groaned at that, grounded? That’s a new one, you were starting to really regret your decision. You should have just told your friends no, even if it meant being the ‘buzzkill.’ Then you remembered, your friends-

“What about my friends?”

“We’re working on calling their parents to come pick them up soon.”

“No!-“ you said sharply, “I-I mean, can’t you just let them off? Or something?”

“You know that’s not how this works, they are already getting off with a minor offense. The worst they’re going to get is their parents’ scolding.”

“Dad! You don’t understand-“

“I understand perfectly fine, a bunch of young kids wanted to ‘have fun’ and thought this was the best way to do it.”

Okay maybe he did understand, but not your side. He didn’t get that now you’d officially be the outcast, the top 10 ranked hero’s daughter who gets everyone in trouble. Does he get how embarrassing that is?

“Come on, let’s get going.”

You stood from the chair leaving the comfort of being shielded, by the small desk separator, from your friends’ piercing gazes. They thought your dad would let you all off too considering the chaos the city’s currently in.

You nervously waved and mouthed a quick ‘sorry’ to them before rushing out the door trying to follow closely behind Aizawa.

You guys didn’t speak the whole way home, you opted for silence mostly because it wasn’t that big of a deal and he just didn’t know what to say. You had never done anything like that before, or had he just never caught you? When did that start?

He remembered when you were little and you’d give your vegetables to stray animals so you didn’t have to eat them, or when you tried to sneak out at night and he caught you. But those were all pretty minor things, and he was only always concerned with your safety.

You’d never done anything this bad, and in terms of the worst thing you could do of course this wasn’t horrible but he still didn’t get why. It couldn’t have just been for fun.

He entered the house after unlocking the door and opening it for you. Before you could make it to your room, where you’d probably go to sulk, he decided he’d ask.

“Why did you want to do that y/n?”

You stopped and turned around to face him. He was standing in front of the door, and now that you actually took in his appearance he looked tired. His dark circles more prominent, eyes a light pink most likely from his quirk, and his black pants had small patches of dust that had been hastily patted off on them.

You replied after a moment, briefly forgetting his question, “For fu-“

“And don’t just say for fun, because I know you and there are plenty of other things you would do for fun.”

You huffed resigning to just come out with it, “it was a bet.”

“A bet?”

“My friends bet me that I wouldn’t get high with them since I’m a hero’s daughter.”

“And you decided to take them up on that?”

“Yes, I know it was stupid okay?”

“I know you know, you’re smarter than that. So why’d you say yes?”

Why’d he have to be so persistent? “Maybe because I thought I’d finally get some friends.”

“What do you mean y/n? You do have friends.”

“No, I don’t. Momo, Tsu, and Uraraka only hang out with me out of pity, since you’re their teacher, if they even have time-“

“Pity? Y/n no they don’t, there’s nothing pitiful about you at all-“

You scoffed, “don’t lie. I get you’re my dad and all but be honest with yourself, truly honest.”

“I am being honest. I’d never lie-“

Guess you’d just have to spell it out for him then. “The only daughter you had killed your wife, was born quirk-less, and there’s nothing special about her!” You were shocked at the admission of your own feelings but kept going, “I don’t have a talent, I’m not exceptionally smart, I’m not breathtakingly pretty, and I can’t even make friends!” You listed raising a finger for each reason, “Now tell me what about that is not pitiful?”

After that question there was silence, and Aizawa was just looking at you. You hadn’t even noticed you were crying until the first tear slid down your nose crease and hit the corner of your lip. Before touching could even wipe your tear or register the sound of footsteps approaching you, you were being hugged. Fully covered by his arms, your head grazing the bottom of his chin where stubble had began to grow, face buried partially into his scarf.

You heard high pitched wailing, which you hadn’t even registered was you until his hand began to rub up and down your back with quiet ‘shh’s to try calming you.

“Don’t cry, it’s okay. It’s not your fault, none of it okay?” He began whispering in your ear.

“Your mom and I both knew the challenges she’d have if she gave birth to you. We were well aware, and she wanted to have you. She didn’t care if she’d die in the process, you are our child.”

He continued comforting you, and when you eventually calmed down he let go and gently pulled your face out of his chest so you could look him in his tired, red eyes. “I love you so much, and I’m sorry if I don’t tell you that enough okay? It’s my fault I’m sorry. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and you’re perfect. I mean that, I’d never lie. You don’t need a quirk, to be super smart, or have a special talent. You’re perfect to me, okay? And that’s all that matters. You’re important to me,” he said firmly.

“Okay?”

You sniffled, reaching a hand to wipe your nose, “okay.”

“Hey,” he said turning your face back to his, “I really mean it, I’d be no where without you. And how could you say you’re not beautiful? I know I’m not the best looking hero, but haven’t you seen the pictures of your mom? You take after her, gorgeous. Nothing I’d ever change about you, I don’t regret anything.”

“Okay,” you said slightly unused to him saying these things, “I’ve never heard you say something so corny dad,” you said chuckling trying to lighten the mood.

At that, he gave a small grin which faded when he remembered your earlier point, “And Ochaco, Tsuyu, and Yaoyorozu do like being your friend. Not just because I’m their teacher, trust me I’m more of a supervisor if anything. I let them figure most stuff out on their own. They wanted to meet and hang out with you. I don’t think you give yourself enough credit, you make friends just fine.”

“I know, I know, it was just heat of the moment stuff dad.”

He let out a sigh of relief, hugged you once more, and pressed a kiss to the top of your forehead.

“I still have about another hour of night patrol, but I’ll stay here if you want me to?”

“No dad, it’s fine go.”

He looked at you once more as if saying, ‘are you sure?’

“Yes I’m sure I’m fine, it’s only an hour anyways.”

“Okay, call me if you need anything, I’ll be back soon,” he said headed towards the door.

“Okay,” you said starting to walk to your room.

But just before he shut the door you dashed for it and started, “Hey! does this mean-“

“No you’re still grounded,” he said.

And with that the door shut.

@/cafekitsune for the divider!

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dakusan · 1 month ago

Text

First Song First Love

Seungmin x Reader | fluff, karaoke, soft rizz

🎤 synopsis: You didn’t expect anything life-changing when your friends dragged you to a chaotic karaoke night. But then Seungmin walked in—quiet, sharp-eyed, devastatingly charming—and sang a ballad that made the room go silent. An unexpected duet, a shared laugh, a late-night conversation… and suddenly, you’re not just singing for fun. You’re singing your way into something real. Maybe even love. A soft, slow-burning story about spark at first sight, stolen moments between fame and real life, and the boy who gave you a Puppy.M plushie—and a kiss you’ll never forget.

💌a/n: this was supposed to be a little karaoke fic and then seungmin opened his mouth and suddenly we’re kissing in a café with a plushie in our lap and a crush in our chest. i don’t know what to tell you. the man sang ONE (1) emotional ballad and everyone folded. including me. especially me. please imagine he sent you a voice memo at 1AM and now your pillow smells like delusion and vocal line supremacy. thanks for reading 💘 ps. reblog so that Puppy.M can haunt you

📍credits: @cafekitsune for the diver.

🎶Now Playing: "Polaroid Love" – Enhypen

You were already regretting the heels.

The strap was digging into your ankle as you trudged up the narrow stairs of the karaoke bar, the neon-pink sign above flickering with half-lit Korean characters. The muffled thrum of bass-heavy music vibrated through the walls, mixing with the chaotic chorus of drunken laughter and off-key singing. Somewhere inside, your friend group was already warming up for a night of questionable decisions and even worse vocals.

Your phone buzzed.

[Jisoo]: Room 5! We’re starting without you! Run!!

You huffed out a laugh, finally reaching the hallway lined with sliding doors and colored lights. Room 5’s door was slightly ajar, the soft glow of a big screen leaking into the hall. You could already hear Jisung screaming a ballad like his life depended on it.

Sliding the door open, you were hit by the familiar wave of heat, perfume, and fried snacks. The room was packed—your friends piled on couches, tangled in each other’s limbs and laughter, drinks in hand. Some waved when they noticed you, others too busy arguing over the next song.

Your best friend stood, practically bouncing.

“There you are! Took you long enough,” she said, grabbing your hand and pulling you deeper into the room. “Okay, okay—before you sit, you have to meet someone.”

You barely had time to react before she stopped in front of a guy lounging in the corner of the couch, a half-empty drink in one hand and an amused look in his eyes. He was dressed in simple black—hoodie, jeans, rings glinting on his fingers. His hair was soft, a little messy, and he had this calm presence like the storm of energy around him didn’t touch him at all.

“This is Seungmin,” she said. “Jisung’s friend. He joined last minute.”

He looked up—and your breath caught for a second.

It was subtle, nothing dramatic. Just a glance. But it was like the moment his eyes met yours, the rest of the room dimmed just a little. Warm brown eyes. Sharp, slightly teasing smile. A quick flicker of recognition in a face you’d never seen before.

“Hey,” he said, nodding.

You blinked. “Hi.”

Your best friend was already moving again, shouting about soju bombs and how someone needed to queue a TWICE song, but you were still standing there, not quite sure what had just happened.

Someone patted the seat next to Seungmin. “Sit, there’s room!”

You hesitated for a second—then lowered yourself onto the cushion beside him. Close enough to feel the heat of his arm, but not quite touching. He didn’t shift away. Just looked over, calm and unreadable.

“You new to the group?” you asked, hoping your voice didn’t sound as breathy as it felt.

“Kind of,” he said. “First time I’ve hung out with this many of them at once. You?”

“I’m here for the chaos,” you smiled.

“Clearly,” he deadpanned, nodding toward Jisung, who was now on his knees dramatically singing into the mic like a man possessed.

You laughed, and Seungmin’s lips twitched—not quite a full smile, but close.

As the night spun on, drinks were poured, songs were shouted more than sung, and someone passed you a mic with no warning. “Your turn!”

You groaned. “Do I have to?”

“Yes!” everyone chorused at once.

You scrolled through the playlist and picked something safe—a feel-good track you wouldn’t butcher too badly. As you sang, the nerves melted off with every line. It wasn’t perfect, but it was fun. When the song ended, you glanced around and found Seungmin watching you again. Not in a creepy way. Just… noticing.

“You sing well,” he said casually.

You smiled, tucking the mic away. “You’re just saying that.”

“I don’t say things I don’t mean,” he replied, tone unreadable.

That shut you up for a second. Then, Jisung clapped Seungmin on the back. “Your turn, man! You’re not getting out of this.” Seungmin sighed dramatically, but he stood and grabbed the mic anyway. He walked toward the screen, brows furrowed in concentration as he picked a song.

He didn’t look nervous. He looked like he knew exactly what he was about to do. And you suddenly had the feeling you were about to learn something unexpected.

The room buzzed with playful heckling as Seungmin scrolled through the playlist, chin tilted slightly, brows furrowed like he was reading a secret message only he could decipher. You weren’t sure what kind of song to expect—something upbeat, maybe, something fun to match the mood. But then the opening notes hit, and the room shifted.

Soft. Slow. Raw emotion wrapped in every piano chord. The kind of song that didn’t ask for attention—it demanded silence. A few people started murmuring in surprise. Someone whispered, “Wait… he’s doing this one?” But their voices quickly faded.

Because then Seungmin started to sing. And it was like everything else just… fell away.

His voice wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. It was rich, smooth, like velvet pulled tight over a storm. Perfect pitch, but more than that—feeling. Like the lyrics lived somewhere deep in his chest and were only now being let out, piece by piece. There was a quiet ache in the way he shaped the words, almost too gentle to be real. You swore the room was holding its breath. No drunken shouting. No off-key backup vocals. Just him.

And you?

You were frozen.

Eyes locked on the way his lips moved, how his lashes lowered as he hit a falsetto so clean it sent actual chills down your spine. His hand rested loosely at his side, mic held steady like it was second nature.

You’d been to karaoke a hundred times. Heard a hundred voices.

But not like this. This wasn’t just singing. This was intimate. Like you were being let in on something personal. Like every word he sang was carefully chosen for this exact moment—and maybe, somehow, for you. By the time the final note faded, the silence that followed was almost reverent.

Then—applause. Loud, messy, full of disbelief.

“Dude,” Jisung laughed, tossing a napkin in Seungmin’s direction. “You’ve been holding out on us!”

Seungmin just shrugged modestly, handing off the mic. “Didn’t feel like singing earlier.”

But when he turned to sit back down, his eyes found yours first. A little flash of something in his gaze—playful, knowing. You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but all you could manage was a soft, “That was… wow.”

He smiled, barely. “Thanks.”

And somehow, that tiny smile wrecked you more than the high note he’d just nailed. “He’s so unserious for pulling out his idol voice like that,” someone muttered as Seungmin sat back down beside you, drink in hand like he hadn’t just vocally ruined the entire room in the best way possible.

You couldn’t stop staring.

Not in a weird way. Just in a what the hell just happened kind of way. Everyone knew he was an idol, but it was one thing to know, and another to hear first hand, not at a concert, but in a karaoke room.

“You’re staring,” he said quietly, not looking at you.

“I’m allowed,” you whispered back. “That wasn’t fair.”

That made him glance your way, amused. “What, the song?”

“The voice,” you said before you could stop yourself. “You came here to hang out and decided to assassinate us instead?”

He laughed—a real one this time, not just the polite idol chuckle. “I was being nice. I held back.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart was still thumping. Then Jisung, clearly thriving off the chaos, grinned and shouted, “OKAY. DUET TIME. We’re pairing up, and I am not accepting no’s—y/n, you’re up with Seungmin!”

You froze. “Wait—what?”

Seungmin just looked sideways at you, one brow raised like he was waiting to see if you’d run or take the mic. Your fingers twitched. “Unless you’re scared?” he said, teasing.

You narrowed your eyes. “I was going to be nice. Guess I’ll sing for blood.”

The group ooh’d at the fake rivalry as someone queued up a familiar, upbeat duet—something flirty and fun with alternating verses and a dramatic chorus. You stood up, heart pounding, and took the mic. Beside you, Seungmin rolled his shoulders out like he was warming up for a concert. “Ready, partner?”

You snorted. “Try to keep up.”

And then the beat dropped.

You started the first verse, playful and light. The words came easier now, riding adrenaline. He jumped in with the second line, voice smooth, pitch perfect, of course—but now with a new edge. He leaned into the teasing lyrics, eyes flicking to you like he was trying to make you break.

You held your ground. And that’s when the magic happened.

There was this flow between you—passing the mic back and forth like it was a game, matching each other’s energy without even trying. He leaned in on a harmony, and your voices fit like puzzle pieces. It didn’t feel rehearsed. It felt right. Someone started filming. By the time the final chorus hit, you were both practically laughing, bodies angled toward each other, eyes locked even as you sang the last line together.

When the song ended, the room exploded.

“Okay, wait, do we need to give you two the room?”

“That was unreasonably hot—hello??”

You flushed, suddenly too aware of how close he was, how easy it had felt. Seungmin looked at you, smile lazy, voice low. “You really aren’t scared, huh.” And just like that—you were in trouble.

The chaos of the room faded to a dull buzz in the background—laughter, drinks clinking, someone screaming lyrics in the next room over. A few of your friends had spilled out to grab snacks, others were too busy arguing over who got to sing next. The energy had shifted into something looser, sleepier. Like the night had finally exhaled.

You were still sitting next to Seungmin, the heat between you warm but not overwhelming anymore. Just… steady. Comfortable.

He took a slow sip of his drink, eyes fixed on the screen even though it wasn’t playing anything. “They’re wild,” he said, nodding toward your friend group.

You chuckled. “You’re saying that like you’re not used to Jisung.”

“I’m used to Jisung. Not ten Jisungs at once.”

You laughed again, and he smiled. Not his idol smile. Not the curated one. A real one. It was quiet for a beat after that. Not awkward. Just… unspoken. You glanced at him, then at the mic still resting near his knee.

“That song earlier,” you said softly. “The solo. Why that one?”

He didn’t answer right away. Then: “It’s one I never get to sing on stage,” he said, voice low, fingers absently tracing the condensation on his glass. “Too slow for a live set. Too quiet. Not exciting enough.”

“But it meant something.” His gaze flicked to yours—sharp and surprised. Then thoughtful. “Yeah,” he admitted. “It does.”

There was something gentle about the way he looked at you then. Like he wasn’t just seeing you—he was choosing to let you see him. Not the idol. Not the polished version. Just the boy who liked slow songs and quiet moments.

“Do you ever wish it could all just slow down?” you asked before thinking.

His shoulders lowered slightly, like the question had knocked the air out of him in a good way.

“All the time,” he said. “But it’s rare. I forget how to sit still.”

You nodded. You got that. Maybe not in the same way, but you understood the exhaustion of always having to be on, to perform, to keep up with the people around you even when your body begged for stillness.

“That’s why I picked that song,” he added after a moment. “Not because I thought anyone would notice. Just… felt like I needed to hear it.”

You blinked slowly, feeling something tighten in your chest. He didn’t say it for effect. He wasn’t trying to charm you. He was just being honest. And somehow, that honesty felt more intimate than the duet, more vulnerable than all the shared glances and teasing smiles. You leaned back a little, nudging his shoulder with yours. “Well. I noticed.” He turned to look at you—soft eyes, lips parted like he was about to say something else, something more. But he didn’t. He just nodded, and the silence between you felt full instead of empty.

Eventually, the rest of the group stumbled back in—laughing too loud, arms full of convenience store snacks and another round of drinks no one really needed. The energy picked back up, a final burst before the inevitable crash. Someone attempted to sing again, terribly. Another person fell asleep mid-verse.

The night had peaked, and now it was coasting on the afterglow.

You checked your phone—past midnight. Your voice was hoarse from laughing, and your cheeks hurt from smiling. Most of the group was starting to collect their things, slowly accepting the fate of early morning hangovers and sore throats.

Seungmin was still next to you, his thigh brushing yours when he shifted to grab his phone. You should’ve said goodbye. That’s what normal people did, right? Say thanks for tonight and see you around and maybe let fate take it from there.

But something tugged at you. A little ache. A little no, not yet.

And maybe he felt it too, because before you could move, he cleared his throat and said, almost casually:

“Hey.”

You looked at him. “Yeah?”

“Can I…” He paused, tapping his phone against his palm, not quite looking at you. “Can I get your number?”

Your stomach flipped.

“Only if you promise not to ghost me,” you said, recovering quickly.

That got a laugh out of him—quiet, but real. “I think I owe you at least a duet rematch,” he said, handing you his phone with the contact screen already open. You typed in your number, added a little mic emoji next to your name before handing it back. “Nice touch,” he said, glancing down at the screen. “I’ll remember you by your stage presence.”

You smirked. “And your ballad era will haunt me forever.”

He looked at you for a beat—longer than necessary. And in that moment, the karaoke room, the noise, the people, all of it blurred. Just him. Just you. And something new. Something beginning. You stood, grabbing your coat, heart still racing.

“Goodnight, Seungmin,” you said, soft but certain.

“Goodnight,” he replied. “Text you soon?”

You nodded, already walking backward toward the door. “I’ll hold you to it.”

And when the door slid shut behind you, you were smiling like an idiot. Because you knew. This wasn’t just a fun night. This was the start of something you couldn’t name yet—but wanted to.

The texts started the next morning. Nothing over the top. No grand good morning message or three-paragraph essay.

Just:

[Seungmin]: you survived the chaos?

And then, when you didn’t respond right away:

[Seungmin]: or are you still recovering from my devastating vocal power

You grinned like an idiot in bed and typed back:

[You]: emotionally and spiritually, yes. physically, still in shock.

It continued like that—daily check-ins, flirty sarcasm, the occasional voice memo that made your heart do things. You’d hear his voice and remember that night too vividly: the way he looked under the neon glow, how he sang like no one else was in the room.

But between all the teasing, there were real moments too. You found out he liked rainy days but hated soggy socks. That he collected stuffed animals people gave him, but he’d never admit it publicly. That his schedule was hectic, but he always replied, even if it took a while.

And then, one Friday afternoon:

[Seungmin]: are you free this weekend?

You stared at the screen. Paused. Typed. Deleted. Then typed again:

[You]: depends. is this a duet or a solo performance?

[Seungmin]: …it’s a café date, smartass. i’ll even buy you a drink.

[Seungmin]: and maybe a muffin if you’re charming enough.

The café was tucked in a quiet street, the kind of place that smelled like espresso and fresh flowers, with soft jazz playing through hidden speakers. It was a total contrast to the karaoke bar—slower, quieter, somehow closer. Seungmin was already there when you arrived, wearing a navy hoodie, baseball cap, and black mask. Still somehow completely recognizable. He stood when he saw you, pulling his mask down just enough to flash a smile. “You’re late.”

“You’re early,” you said, narrowing your eyes.

“I didn’t want to risk you ghosting me.”

You snorted. “As if.”

He ordered your drink before you could argue and handed you a paper bag with a smug look. You opened it—inside was a small Puppy.M plushie. Soft. Perfect. A little derpy in the cutest way.

Your heart squeezed.

“No way,” you whispered, cradling it gently. “You carry these around?”

“I had a spare in my bag,” he said, avoiding eye contact. “Don’t make it weird.”

“It’s very weird.”

“It’s limited edition,” he muttered. “You’re welcome.”

You looked at the plush, then at him. “So… I get a plushie and a muffin?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

But he was already reaching for the display case. The two of you sat near the window, sun spilling across the table as you talked about everything and nothing. His voice was softer here—no cameras, no loud music. Just him.

He asked about your dreams. Listened like he cared. Told you stories from trainee days, his voice dipping low when he got serious, then shooting back up with a dry punchline that made you laugh out loud.

It was… easy. And when you reached for your drink, your fingers brushed the plushie instead—and caught him watching you.

��What?” you asked. He looked away, then back again, almost like he hadn’t meant to speak.

“I felt it,” he said simply. “That night. When I saw you.”

You blinked. “What?”

He shrugged, as if it wasn’t a confession. “At karaoke. I looked at you and thought, ‘Yeah. She’s gonna ruin me.’”

Your chest tightened. You tried to play it cool. “Too late for that?” He smiled—slow, genuine, completely unguarded.

“Way too late.”

The café dimmed as the sun dipped lower, turning the windows gold and the air warm with that quiet hush of early evening. Most of the tables had emptied, but neither of you had moved. The drinks were long gone, your muffin reduced to a few crumbs, and Puppy.M sat between you like a tiny, smug third wheel.

It was the kind of silence that didn’t need filling. Just... comfort. And something else. Something buzzing beneath the surface.

You turned to him, chin resting on your hand. “So. Are you always like this on first dates?”

Seungmin raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“Thoughtful. Mysterious. Surprisingly soft?”

He pretended to consider it. “Only when the other person sings on key.”

You snorted and nudged his foot under the table. “I’m serious.”

“So am I,” he said. And then, quieter, “But... no. I’m not always like this.”

You met his gaze—and this time, he didn’t look away.

“I wasn’t planning to meet anyone that night,” he said, voice low, like he was afraid if he said it too loudly, it wouldn’t be true. “I almost didn’t go. But then you walked in and looked at me like you already knew me.”

You swallowed. Hard. “Maybe I did,” you said. “Kind of felt like I’d been waiting to meet you. Is that stupid?”

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Really stupid.”

And then he leaned in. Not fast. Not dramatic. Just close enough for you to feel the shift in the air between you. For his eyes to flick down to your lips. For your heart to crawl up your throat.

You could’ve pulled back. You didn’t.

Your lips met his like the softest sigh—like a secret finally spoken out loud. He kissed you gently at first, warm and tentative, one hand brushing your jaw like he was afraid to move too fast. You melted into it without meaning to, lips slotting perfectly with his, eyes fluttering shut.

It wasn’t perfect. It was better. Honest. Quiet. Real.

When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours and exhaled like he’d been holding his breath the entire day.

“Your stage presence is still better than mine,” he murmured.

“Liar.”

He grinned, eyes still closed. “Maybe. But I got the encore, didn’t I?”

You laughed, your hand slipping into his under the table, fingers lacing easily.

“You really did.”

#seungmin x reader #kim seungmin #stray kids imagines #skz fluff #love at first sight #soft boy seungmin #karaoke romance #puppym supremacy #fluff oneshot #first date fluff #emotional damage but make it cute #duet turned date #puppym agenda #slowburn compressed into one night #soft rizz energy #seungmin brainrot #strangers to lovers

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bloodywankers · 1 year ago

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Trigger Warning! Implied Non-con! Forced Relationship! Yandere Husband!

Unedited | 1.26k Words

Andre was always rational, never unnecessarily cruel or emotional. That was the worst part about him, he was cold, left you feeling touch starved and alone even in his embrace. He was strict, he wouldn’t tolerate deviation from his routine or attempts to ruin the perfect image he had built for you but he wasn’t cruel. At the end of the day it felt like you only had yourself to blame for your misfortune. He wouldn’t criticise you for no reason but that meant that the instances where he did, he was probably right. He wouldn’t scream or yell but in turn left you feeling like a disobedient child.

His affection left much to be desired but you blame yourself for it rather than him, because Andre was perfect. He always remembered anniversaries and birthdays, never letting you want for anything but you had always felt so alone. There was an emptiness that he couldn’t fill no matter what he did because Andre was an actor.

Nothing about Andre was genuine because a character with no flaws is no character at all. He seemed above your childish tantrums and far too sophisticated to enjoy simpler things, lived in a world that was perfectly tailor made for him. But you weren’t Andre, you weren’t logical, or perfect, your acting was subpar at best and you didn’t fit into his world. You were emotional and living in his cold world devoid of any warmth was not something you could tolerate so despite every well planned argument he placed in front of you, you stood your ground.

“I want a divorce.” You tried your best to keep a firm tone, you were sure he would take advantage of any hesitation that you showed.

“Darling, as I’ve said already, I—.” He spoke softly, as always, interrupting you with his finely built arguments, ones that you were sure would work in any other situation. Arguments that you could reason with if you had not been as fed up as you were, filled with unadulterated hatred for the man you were supposed to love. This time you were set on getting what you wanted, you were sick of feeling like this.

“I don’t care for whatever bullshit reason you have this time, I feel miserable every day I spend with you!” You probably could have gone through with this in a more elegant manner but you were at your limit. Andre had always been rational but you couldn’t understand him this time. You were sure he wouldn’t have trouble remarrying someone better, it’s not like you lived in the Middle Ages where divorce meant your life was over. It probably wouldn’t affect his image much. So why was he so hell-bent on keeping you stuck in a relationship where both of you would be miserable?

You expected another well balanced counter argument, maybe a comment about how foul your behaviour was, how unbecoming it was. But instead he stood there, a look you had never seen before and a scowl that seemed so out of place compared to his usual poker face. You instinctively sunk into yourself, trying to avoid what you thought was his attempt at reaching for you, what for you? You didn’t want to find out. But instead he walked past you, stormed out despite still maintaining his obnoxiously elegant posture.

You thought it would blow over, that he would come back and pretend nothing happened, he didn’t seem like the type to acknowledge such arguments. But he didn’t return at his usual time, and instead you found all the exits to your house locked and your set of keys missing.

When your husband did return, he didn’t go to your shared bedroom as usual, instead went straight for his office, you just barely caught him. Slamming the door to his study shut before you said anything else.

“What the hell is your problem?! Where are my keys?! If you’re going to act like this at least let me leave!”

”You will do no such thing.” That’s it. No reason, no explanation as to why he decided on this, just a singular order. You had started to back up, this was unlike Andre. The atmosphere in the room had changed.

“And why is that? Who do you think you are to decide for me?!”

Andre himself didn’t understand. The logical thing, the right thing to do would be to let you go quietly, to not put up a fuss and part ways. He didn’t have any love in him when he chose you as his marriage partner (before you had ever officially met him), you were just the right choice, at the right place, at the right time and with the right background. It wasn’t him who was drawn to you out of all other potential candidates, you were just the best choice. He has a good memory, that’s why he remembered your birthday, and your wedding anniversary. It would look bad if he didn’t buy you the best present money could buy.

Sharing a bed was necessary for any married couple, not because he searched for your warmth, desperately clinging to it every night, whether intentionally or not.

He took off his glasses and rubbed his nose bridge, brows furrowed as he came to the realisation. Love? He had come to love you? Has he always felt this way? For someone who boasted a memory as excellent as his, he couldn’t remember when it started. But there was no denying what this was, it was love, an obsessive love that ate at his insides every moment he kept trying to contain it.

If he told you that, you would understand, wouldn’t you? You’d forgive his past sorry attempts at being a good husband and give him a chance to prove himself, wouldn’t you? After all, you’ve always been understanding, despite your recent outbursts, you would try to understand him.

“Darling, let’s try to calm down.” That’s not what he wanted to say, he wanted to say he loved you, to scream it until his voice gave out but it wouldn’t come out, this in turn only irked you more. You looked ready to leave, too annoyed to even continue talking to him. He couldn’t have that, he’d beg if you wanted so please don’t leave.

Well, if he couldn’t tell you, he’d show you. After all, actions speak louder than words. So he grabbed your wrist before you could drift further from him and dragged you to your shared bedroom, ignoring all cries and protests from you. He made sure to lock the door behind him, you looked like you were ready to bolt out the door the moment he let go of you.

“You-! What are you doing, unlock the door now!” However, your protests seem to fall on deaf ears once more.

“You asked why I wouldn’t let you go? I’ll show you why.”

Andre had never been unreasonable or cruel but that night you realised he was as flawed as anyone else, as dirty as any other and as cruel as he could want to be. You realise how much you miss his distant and unfamiliar self, before you got to know him in so many different ways.

How unfamiliar he looked to you as he kissed you in places he didn’t dare to touch before, as his smile resembled that of a madman and his eyes reflected pure euphoria.

Your husband had always been unreasonable and cruel, you just never knew.

Masterlist

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p0orbaby · 9 months ago

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Slow Motion Mountain Climber

summary: leah signs up for pilates, what could go wrong?

warnings: none

a/n: based on this request !

word count: 981

Leah texts you on a Tuesday morning, right before your alarm, like she does whenever something has gone terribly wrong in her life. Like when she found out gluten was in soy sauce, or when she discovered she might have to use that godforsaken 6 train in New York. This time, it's a message that reads: Just signed up for Pilates. You may never see me again.

You roll your eyes, groaning at the incoming rant that's sure to follow. Leah's the kind of person who only does new things for one of two reasons: someone dared her, or she's trying to prove to herself that she is still young and can get away with eating three chocolate croissants in a single sitting. You suspect it’s a combination of both. She’s mentioned something about trying to build a "strong core," which you assume is code for "I'm slowly being bullied into this by the fact that all my teammates have six-packs and I have a soft spot for bread."

At 7:45 AM, just as you’re pouring coffee, Leah calls. You pick up on the third ring because you’re not a monster.

“I’m going to die,” she says, without so much as a hello

“Bold start to the day,” you reply. “Anything specific, or is it just a general feeling?”

“Pilates,” she says, and it sounds like a curse word. “Do you know what that is?”

You almost spit out your coffee because, yes, you know what Pilates is. You’re not sure what’s more shocking: that Leah doesn’t know or that she actually followed through on signing up.

“Yeah, Leah, I know what Pilates is”

“Well, it’s hell. No one told me it was this hard. And the instructor—she’s, like, smiling at me while she’s killing me. How are you supposed to trust someone who's trying to make you do something called a 'teaser' while she grins like a lunatic?”

You can picture it now. Leah, in the middle of a room full of people who've been doing this since their nannies signed them up for ballet at age three, contorting herself on a reformer like it’s some kind of medieval torture device. Meanwhile, the instructor—probably named something like Tiffani with an 'i'—is telling her to “engage her core,” as if Leah didn’t already have a job that required her to do that for 90 minutes straight, several times a week.

“Did you die, though?”

“Almost. My legs were shaking. My abs—I didn’t even know I had abs. Why does anyone do this willingly? I’ve literally been fouled by Fran Kirby, and that was less painful”

“Maybe you should stick to yoga”

“Yoga!” Leah scoffs. “I can do yoga. That’s just stretching and pretending you’re one with the universe or whatever”

You let her have that one because there’s no use arguing with someone who once mistook a meditation class for an excuse to nap in public.

Leah continues, “This class, though—it's not natural. They make you put your legs in straps. Straps! Like a harness, but for your feet. And then they expect you to lift them while you're suspended in the air like some sort of flying squirrel”

You’ve taken Pilates before, so you know exactly what she’s talking about, but you can’t help but laugh. Leah, in her infinite wisdom, probably signed up for the most advanced class because, as she said once, “Go big or go home.” Now, she’s paying for it.

“Maybe you should ask to start in a beginner class,” you suggest, knowing full well she won’t.

“Yeah, no. I already told them I’m an athlete. Can’t back down now. But I swear, if one more person tells me to ‘breathe through it,’ I’m going to punch them in the face”

You imagine the looks on the faces of her Pilates classmates as she throws a fit in the middle of a serene, candle-lit studio. You’ve seen Leah frustrated before, but this is a new level of agitation, and it’s all directed at something she willingly signed up for.

“Maybe it’s good for you,” you offer, “builds character”

“Yeah, and scars. On my pride”

You laugh again because you can see where this is going. Leah, who tackles challenges like they’re personal vendettas, is going to keep going back to that class until she can hold a plank longer than anyone else, even if it kills her. Or, more likely, until she finds something else to distract her, like knitting or extreme ironing.

"I’m just saying," she adds, after a pause, "if I end up with a six-pack, it’s because I earned it. None of this ‘strong core’ bullshit. I want abs of steel. Like, I want to be able to crack a walnut between my ribs”

You’re crying with laughter now, imagining Leah doing sit-ups in front of a mirror at home, testing her progress with various hard-shelled nuts.

“Don’t worry, babe,” you say, trying to calm yourself down. “If you do get abs of steel, I’ll make sure to bring walnuts everywhere we go”

“Good,” she replies, and you can hear her finally start to laugh along with you. “You’re on walnut duty. And if this all goes horribly wrong and I never make it out of Pilates alive, just know it was the straps that did me in”

You shake your head, still smiling. “You’ll be fine. But maybe next time, start with a class that doesn’t sound like it was designed by someone who secretly hates people”

Leah sighs dramatically. “Noted. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to spend the rest of the day lying flat on the floor and cursing Joseph Pilates”

“You do that, babe,” you say, hanging up as you imagine her sprawled out on the carpet, texting you updates about how her muscles are rebelling against her. And you can’t wait to read every single one.

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #awfc #awfc x reader #engwnt #engwnt x reader #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso community

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therebelcaptain · 12 days ago

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While I enjoy seeing Cassian having a deep and intimate relationship with Bix as it shows his vulnerability in a way we've not seen before, it also feels at odds with the image of Cassian I’ve had since 2016—someone who had sacrificed everything for the rebellion. The impression I got from lines like “you’re not the only one who lost everything” is that he’d been virtually alone and isolated in this fight for years before we meet him in Rogue One, his only constant companion being K2. It felt like he’d been keeping himself in a prison of his own mind for the sake of the rebellion.

But in this season, Cassian seems more than willing to walk away for the sake of protecting Bix a mere two years before Rogue One. We're at the halfway point and Cassian is a lifetime away from the man we meet in Rogue One—he was honestly much closer at the end of season one. And maybe that's the point—that things like love can get in the way and hold people back from doing what they must in a revolution—but like others have already said here, making it the focal point of both Bix and Cassian's stories this season feels like a disservice to them as individual characters. Hell, it's not even something that hasn't already been explored in the show. Vel and Cinta's relationship in the first season already looked at how complicated it can be to fall in love while in the rebellion, so I'm not even sure of the necessity of doing the same thing with another couple, much less Bix and Cassian. It seems like the writers room decided an end point for the two of them—likely Cassian being forced to kill Bix, if his last conversation with Luthen is anything to go by—before working backwards to somehow make it feel earned instead of constructing a story that actually felt right for the characters.

While this is essentially what Andor is an exercise in, Cassian already has a specific end point that they need to work toward, but the majority of the main cast doesn't. The next batch of episodes picks up a year before the film, so Cassian's going to have to lose everything in one fell swoop in these next episodes otherwise I'm not confident that he will end up where he needs to be by the end. There are things mentioned in the Rogue One novelisation that could be explored in order show Cassian's further evolution into a fully fledged rebel who's willing to do anything for the movement. Jenoport is one such thing that comes to mind, but that probably won't happen given Cassian hasn't even met K-2 yet.

On the other hand, there is a lot more room to play with Bix as a character. Her end point isn't set in stone in the same way that Cassian's is. They could have explored a myriad of things with her character working through the trauma of being tortured and finding her own way to the rebellion as a result. While that is a factor in her story arc this season, it's frustrating to see her relevance to the story be tied so directly to her relationship with Cassian. At this point it's clear that she's only being kept around so her inevitable death can further galvanise his commitment to the rebellion. After everything she's been through as a character, Bix deserves so much more than being fridged for Cassian's story arc.

To those of you who think my opinion on this is because I'm a diehard Rebelcaptain girlie, it really isn't. Like I've said before, I actually like Bix and Cassian as a couple and would have enjoyed their scenes together more in a different context like maybe in a flashback to their youth. I'd always seen them as childhood sweethearts who still loved each other in their own ways, but had grown apart as they got older and their priorities in life changed. That made a lot of sense to me. What doesn't jive with me is that we're seeing this so close to Rogue One where Cassian is supposed to be living for the rebellion first and foremost and seemed to have been for many, many years. And at this point, the gap between these two men is the size of valley.

#idk i'm just thinking out loud #tony gilroy hasn't read the novelisation and it shows lmao #maybe they'll stick the landing with cassian's arc but at this point it's feeling like a question mark #cassian andor #bix caleen #andor #andor spoilers #star wars #(also their dynamic seems reminiscent of a LOT of rebelcaptain fics i've read over the years which is a choice)

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throatgoat4u · 2 months ago

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ice breakers

word count: 1.2k

summary: mrs simpson makes you play an ice breaker to get to know your tablemate!

warnings: nothing besides chris being a major asshole

a/n: ngl… i made this the second after i posted late on the first day but like…. idk why i never posted this. im posting this for @oopsiedaisydeer since i’ve been disappointing her with the lack of my posting 😔. hope yall enjoy!

toodles sluts :)

you looked back up at the seating chart, then at chris’s face, before letting out a long, heavy sigh. you could just ask mrs. simpson to move you—especially since you were her favorite student—but you really, really liked your seat, and the other tables were more crowded. so, begrudgingly, you made your way to the back.

you dropped your backpack next to your stool and took a seat, stiff and unsure. what were you supposed to do? what if he said hi or—who were you kidding? why would the christopher sturniolo say hi to you? he was one of those guys who seemed untouchable, like a character from a movie. you’d spent so long admiring him from afar that it felt strange to be this close, like you were intruding on his world.

as you stole a glance at him, you took in his perfectly messy hair that looked like it fell that way naturally (though you were pretty sure he spent at least ten minutes perfecting it every morning). his clothes were annoyingly stylish, that casual-but-expensive look that only someone like him could pull off. he was leaned back in his chair, legs stretched out, fingers tapping lazily on his phone screen. he didn’t even look up when you sat down.

you swallowed hard, turning to the front just as mrs. simpson walked in, flashing you a smile and a wink. what was that supposed to mean? did she place you here on purpose?

“welcome back, everyone,” she began, her voice all bubbly and energetic. “i can’t wait to start the year and get to know some of you while reconnecting with some familiar faces. let’s kick things off with a little table group activity. it has nothing to do with art, it’s just to get to know each other. this is important because if you know me, you know i don’t allow seat changes until the last few months when i let everyone pick their seats. so, it would be smart to get to know your tablemates. there’s a set of questions on each table—use them to break the ice. i’ll give you all 20 to 30 minutes. enjoy, and welcome back!”

your heart sank. no, she couldn’t be serious. you actually had to talk? and not just to anyone—but to him? chris looked up from his phone, his eyes flicking to the paper in the middle of the table before landing on you. his expression was unreadable as he reached for the question sheet.

“you know, i didn’t expect to be stuck with the lonely girl all year,” he said, his voice dripping with condescension.

you froze. what? you always thought he didn’t even know you existed, but apparently, he did—and not for anything good. it didn’t hurt as much as it should have, though. you were used to being seen as the quiet, lonely girl with her head buried in a sketchbook. still, his words stung, slicing through the thin layer of confidence you’d built up over the summer.

you forced yourself to look at him, your mouth opening to say something, but no words came out. chris was already reading through the questions, his brows furrowing in annoyance. “this is stupid,” he muttered before tossing the paper on the table. “let’s just get this over with.”

you nodded, eyes dropping to your lap. the room buzzed with chatter, other tables laughing and talking like this was the easiest thing in the world. you wished you could be like them—effortlessly social, blending in instead of sticking out like a sore thumb.

chris sighed, his voice pulling you out of your thoughts. “first question. what’s your name?”

“uh… i-it’s dotty,” you mumbled, picking at your jeans, avoiding his gaze.

he looked at you for a moment, his head tilting slightly. “dotty? like… dot?”

“uh… yeah, kind of…”

he let out a short laugh, leaning back in his chair. “weird name. anyways, next question—favorite color.”

“i like them all. i don’t really have a preference. each color… it, uh, serves a purpose.”

“that’s the dumbest answer i’ve ever heard,” he said, rolling his eyes. “who the hell doesn’t have a favorite color?”

your fingers tightened around the hem of your shirt. you could feel the familiar sting of embarrassment building in your chest, the kind that made you want to disappear.

he looked at you, expecting a better answer, but when he realized that you had been serious, he shook his head and moved on. “do you have any pets?”

you shook your head, and he sighed, clearly bored. “any siblings?”

“uh, yeah. i have a little brother. he’s four.”

“he’s four?” chris looked at you like you’d just said something ridiculous.

“uh, yeah, my parents waited a while before they had another kid.”

“weird. anyway, got any hobbies?”

you nodded, and he raised an eyebrow. “you know you’re supposed to say what they are, right?”

“o-oh, yeah… uh, i like to draw and paint and stuff.”

“lonely and an art loser. pathetic,” he muttered under his breath, probably thinking you didn’t hear him—but you did. is it bad that comments like that don’t even hurt anymore? “whatever. favorite tv shows or movies?”

“um… my favorite movie is call me by your name and my favorite show is gilmore girls.”

“i’m gonna pretend i know what that movie is. favorite food?”

“pasta.”

his eyebrow raised, a flicker of interest crossing his face. “finally, something we have in common.”

“o-oh, you like pasta too?” you asked, a tiny spark of hope in your voice.

he looked up from the paper, scoffing. “no, i just said that for shits and giggles. what a stupid question.”

“r-right… sorry,” you mumbled, your cheeks heating up as you looked away. there was no way this was the guy you’d obsessed over for three years straight. no way this was the guy who filled pages of your sketchbook. no way this was the guy you fantasized about, hoping he’d notice you one day. this guy was a fucking dickhead.

chris rolled his eyes, shoving the paper toward you. “you’re boring as hell. ask me the questions. i’m sure i’ll be way more interesting.”

you took the paper, nodding as you read the first question aloud, “what’s your name?”

his face deadpanned, eyes narrowing. “skip.”

“uh… excuse me?”

“i said skip. what, are you deaf?”

“n-no, i heard you… it’s just… why skip?”

“everyone knows my name, dotty,” he said, spitting out your name like it was an insult. “i’m not like you. people actually know me.”

“oh… right. sorry.”

you continued asking the questions, and he answered each one with an air of superiority that made you want to shrink into your seat. by the end of it, you knew exactly one thing about christopher sturniolo: he was an arrogant, conceited asshole who thought the world revolved around him.

when the activity was finally over, you couldn’t help but feel more relieved than you ever have. this was going to be a long year

taglist: @freshloveee. @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan. @heart-sdiary. @sturnshood. @oopsiedaisydeer. @hjvi. @poolover123. @t0riiiis. @leoslaboratory. @mattsrecipe. @reiiwith2is. @laylaluvsu2000. @shoo-00

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cloveroctobers · 5 months ago

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string of lights — 4. Armando Aretas [Winter Prompts]

A/N: The list keeps on growing for this man but I couldn’t help but to imagine what he would be like during the Christmas season…yet it’s never that simple with me ofc! Also never watched Vikings a day in my life so I’m not entirely sure how Travis’ character is but I’ve seen enough TikTok’s on him outside of his character lol so this is more oc than anything and I thought it would be fun to throw a little connection in there. Hope you like 🤍

PROMPT IS FROM HERE & I’m using: SITUATIONS — We broke up and I'm asking someone else to go home with me for the holidays because I know my ex will be there with someone + DIALOGUE PROMPTS — “I'm not drunk!" // "Oh yeah? Then why are your eyes crossed?”

WARNINGS: ended up longer than intended, language, heartbreak, corny Christmas one liners, one night stand + slight intimate scene.

<- read my previous anthology winter prompt here.

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She warned you.

She meaning Kelly.

Kelly warned you that Armando would be here with his supposed ex fiancée and you’ve never known Kelly to be a liar. In fact, you considered her a friend outside of AMMO and her blunt nature could be harsh majority of the time but you can always trust her to give it to you straight. It was simple over text but she knew already before you responded that you needed an explanation, which later resulted in her sending over a voice message about ten minutes later—she got distracted okay!

You already had a sense of dread going to Christine’s annual Christmas party (it was mostly for charity) single because who really wants to be single on the holiday’s? but you made a promise that you would show your face. You never broke a promise, this many knew. Yet you couldn’t say the same for your ex. Now that Armando was parading his ex in your face, the same ex from Mexico City, that he decided not to tell you about because his past life was meant to be kept there although you got a pretty good glimpse of it, that relationship was actually some sort of arranged marriage (that Isabel set up) until she mysteriously disappeared, yeah that ex was also going to be in attendance.

It left a nasty taste in your mouth but you didn’t want to be the bitter one. You could hold a grudge and be in your feelings but why did that have to automatically mean you were bitter? Angry and hurt, sure but bitter? Just felt misplaced. There was nothing else to talk about, Armando made his decision to want to explore what that relationship could be like again, like you were supposed to be put back on the shelf and sit pretty until Armando was ready to try again when it didn’t work out.

Notice how you said when?

You were never going to be someone’s second option.

Especially not to someone who claimed they would die for you and without you.

Armando’s dark eyes were burning into you from across the hall but the more cranberry martini’s you threw back, his stare honestly just felt like a gnat you would have to lightly fan away. So you angled your body in your fancy party dress so your gaze wouldn’t dare look his way over your shoulder, further tuning into the conversation with Dorn’s cousin, Ronan Steffensen, who told you that he could basically be Dorn’s father—followed by a eye roll from the blond—with how involved he was in Dorn’s upbringing.

“Yeah, I always could tolerate you much better than Jax.” Dorn called over his shoulder, referring to Ronan’s younger brother, as Kelly pulled him away to mainly dance but to leave you alone to engage with Dorn’s cousin, with a wink tossed your way.

It was honorable how Dorn spoke so highly of the guy and now you can put the name to the face. You wished he would have put you on sooner but…there’s no time like the present! Ronan had the brightest of blues that no frame of glasses could shield with a hint of mischief in them the longer you stared. A hour and half had passed since you two got introduced but the conversation never got boring.

Armando can tell you were enjoying yourself. You barely acknowledged him when Detective Lowrey called you over after your attempt to sneak on by. His own low lidded eyes lifted a bit in annoyance at his…father trying to force you two to play nice. Working together was tense enough but regardless when things got hectic, the both of you would always look out for one another.

“Thanks for that back there.” Armando walked behind, butt of the sniper resting against his shoulder as the both of you made your way back to the van a few nights back.

He knew how much you weren’t a fan of weaponry, preferring hand to hand combat more than anything but in a case like this, where Armando let his guard slip in search of you through the smog, you landed a single bullet to the neck of your opponent, slightly clipping the tip of Armando’s ear in the process.

You scoff, “No need to thank me. That’s part of the job, watch your back and hope you watch mine in return.”

He blinks with a slight frown, “Of course I would. I’m just acknowledging what you did back there for me.”

“Mhm.” You exhale, fighting the urge to not roll your eyes. You couldn’t even lie and say that part of it wasn’t for him.

Armando was the one that was always a person of few words and he hated that he was getting this from you so he starts, “Look—

You shake your head, “Let’s just continue doing what we need to do so you can get back to Priscilla.”

Armando winced from behind you as you nearly spit out the woman’s name but you didn’t see that, “Y/N.”

“Armando. You should get your ear checked out when we get back.” You hissed with the back of your hand facing him, which meant you were done talking, and Armando took the hint, deciding not to press you.

Tonight was different.

Whereas Armando was supposed to be enjoying the party, he kept moving around the supposed hall, which was actually more of a mansion, zoning out of conversations to keep his eye on you and Dorn’s older cousin.

“I can give you something else to look at,” Priscilla purs as she stands in her tassled low-cut red dress, tucked underneath Armando’s shoulder.

He hums, slowly bringing his eyes to meet her green ones, not hiding that he had been caught.

“If you’re going to stare at her the whole night, you might as well tell her to come home with us instead of with Dorn’s primo.”

His jaw sets at the mention of you going home with someone else but he knows deep deeep down he doesn’t have the right.

“You decide what you want to do.” She runs her finger up his chest before sharply gripping his tightened jaw, her pointed acrylics digging into his flesh, “but don’t you dare embarrass me.”

Which means what exactly?

“Kinda like how you left me in the dark about your whereabouts…how long ago?” Armando easily furrowed his brows at the audacity of this woman.

“That’s just business baby, don’t act like you don’t know how it is.” She dismissed, which made Armando scowl as she began to strut away.

The night went on but Armando knew to keep his distance. From overly invasive questions from colleagues of Christine’s, who were just dying to know how a old cartel member with a highly respectable birth father for a detective managed to turn his life around for the better, to the overflow of the awful peppermint desserts, spiked hot chocolate, to trying to keep his eyes off of you and Ronan but didn’t falter when Ronan caught him and you attempted to be oblivious as you now held onto his arm like you were suddenly a couple now, to ignoring Priscilla’s advances for a quickie in one of the marble bathrooms, being disgusted by the white powder on her nose which definitely wasn’t her makeup, to small chatter with AMMO and Reggie, telling both Mike and Marcus to butt out on them checking up on him in regards to you, which resulted in Marcus threatening to stick his size 10 up his ass if he didn’t fix his behavior, all Armando could do was smirk at his new uncle, showing him that he wasn’t the least bit threatened, and to finally almost getting in Dorn’s face about bringing more than a plus one to this event.

Armando had to collect himself, straightening out Dorn’s business casual attire, “…My bad bro. I just…need a minute.”

“Well take one.” Kelly snaps, ready to shove Armando her damn self.

Dorn, always the one to give people the benefit of the doubt and diffuse his fiery girlfriend says, “Kelly,” he warns before turning his gaze to Armando who rubs at his face, “What was that about? Do you need to talk?”

“No. Definitely not.” Armando scowls, growing more iritated that people were concerned about his well-being when he said he was fine many times.

His eyes find you making your way out of the room towards the gigantic red and gold covered tree in the lobby that made you appear so tiny. He could tell from across the room that you were wobbly in your heels and sensed that you were leaving. His eyes quickly searched for Mike who sipped from his drink, eyes already peering at his son from underneath his eyelashes. A dip of his head to Armando makes him aware that you already had said your goodbyes for the night.

“Armando…let it go.” Dorn calls out, careful not to touch him but his hands were open as if he was ready to guard him.

Armando side eyed the blond as he pointed at the couple, “You two were trying to distract me.”

“Oh, boo-hoo! She deserves a good lay for the holidays and since you broke her heart like the dissociative asshole you are, Dorn and I decided to give her a gift of our own.” Kelly sends a smug smile his way, crossing her arms.

Armando flares his nostrils.

Dorn shakes his head at the Filipina before turning back to his team member, “That wasn’t exactly my plan. I actually didn’t have a plan really. Ronan’s in town and he didn’t have anything going on tonight so I thought why not—

Kelly shushed him, “Dorn baby, you don’t need to explain yourself to him.”

“What the fuck is your problem?” Armando exclaimed, making the dark haired woman tilt her head.

“Hey.” Dorn cuts in as he notices some attendees whip their head at Armando’s language and also because he didn’t appreciate how Armando was speaking to Kelly, “Let’s be chill here.”

“Chill about what? You setting my girl up with some bozo who can’t even see how many fingers I’m holding up?”

Dorn frowns as Kelly lets out humorless laughter, knuckles going back to knock against her boyfriend’s chest, “Did you hear that? Armando still thinks he gets a say in what y/n does. Isn’t your fiancée around here somewhere? Or is she taking another bump of snow in one of the many corners of this place?”

Armando didn’t know why he was wasting more time going back and forth with Kelly. She often had no issue saying what was on her mind and right to Armando’s face, making them butt heads often but she was a helluva weapons expert and ultimately a good friend to you.

So he walks off, making Kelly also stalk after him but Dorn grips her wrist and shakes his head at her, deciding for the both of them that they’ve done enough tonight.

When Armando catches up to you, you’re staring up at the lights, a goofy smile on your face, and it sounds like you’re humming along to one of the sickening Christmas instrumentals, until a glare hits your face, getting a sense of Armando beside you.

“Leaving so soon?” Armando questions, clapping his hands behind his back, “The night is still young.”

You throw your head back as you laugh, “Of course it is, which is why it’s continuing…at my place.” You whisper the last bit as if it’s a secret.

“You’re not driving.” Armando states.

You snort, “Its not your business but I’ve got a beautiful man who’s gonna keep me entertained. I’ll be a passenger princess tonight. He should be coming back from the bathroom any minute.” Which was ironic as you unintentionally tell him, searching your satin clutch to reapply your plum colored gloss to your lips.

Armando flicks his eyes from your lips up to your face, “You’re drunk.” He sighs.

“I’m not drunk!” You yell while trying to roll your eyes and pluck your lipgloss back into your bag but you miss as it clutters to the linoleum floor.

Armando saves you the trouble of bending down, picking it up for you so you wouldn’t tumble over. You snatch it from his grasp as he says, “Oh yeah, Then why are your eyes crossed?”

You laugh, resting a hand against your cheek, “B-being worried about me is funny when you weren’t worried about me when you decided to leave me in t-t-the dust for the chica who belongs in whoville! Don’t worry though, Ronan will probably make my vision worse…and I’m not talking about stealing his glasses off his handsome face. So you can go now, I’ll be warm enough tonight.”

A clearing of a throat interupts your stare off and Armando’s stare turns heated as Ronan stands behind you two. You don’t even waste time, not wanting the two to chat as you let out a sigh, arms wrapping around his neck, as his hands rest on the big white bow on the back of your dress. Ronan is all grins as well, his hand going up in the air to wave at Armando as you practically drag him away into the night.

Now it was Armando’s turn to feel a nasty taste in his own mouth as he watches you two leave.

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Although you were drunk, somewhere in your mind you managed not to scream Armando’s name once Ronan got inside you. He wasn’t Armando at all but he still knew what he was doing. You had no doubts in your mind with a man like this as you sat on his lap, his hand guiding you by the jaw so your lips could reconnect.

His glasses were so fogged up that you just decided to do the honors of taking them off his face as you sat on his lap. The both of you tasted like liquor and that was enough courage for the both of you to tis’ the season. You knew what it was as the night carried on at Christine’s party and after you let it slip to Ronan that you wanted to snatch Armando’s eyes out of his damn skull, he left the floor open for you to give a rundown of what happened.

Ronan had no problem accepting taking you home tonight in hopes that you could forget about Armando but that didn’t work out in your favor. You should have known better, Armando was your person and Ronan would just be for the night. You bit down on the tip of your tongue so hard that you should have had your own source of cranberry dripping from it as Ronan gave one last thrust up into you, finishing last by being the gentleman that he is, then one of his hands drags the rest of your ripped tights down your lower legs, before trailing his finger up your thigh, and nipping at your bottom lip.

“Wow…who knew you had it in you?” You joked, staring up into the blues through half lidded eyes.

He’s laughing against your mouth, “Joy to the world and all that is what they say, babe.”

You roll your eyes before pecking his lips once more.

He doesn’t stay and it doesn’t bother you as you manage to get into your lengthy night routine and being a giggly mess you order from doordash from two places, deciding to surprise yourself. You’re just about to doze off on your couch when knocks on the door and ringing of the door bell manages to wake you. Groaning you get to your feet, dragging yourself to the door and yank it open.

It’s Armando standing in your illuminated doorway, still dressed in his christmas wear from the party.

“You’re not doordash…don’t tell me you’re some sort of porch pirate?” You lean against the door, blocking his way in, still trying to sober up despite being in cozy wear and showcasing glass skin—for the next twelve hours that is—your skin has a mind of her own.

Armando scoffs, hand going to push the door back but you held on for a bit, which makes the bearded man quirk up a brow. “Let me in, mami. We need to talk…the only way I can get my mind right is if we have a convo.”

“Sounds more like you wanted to interrupt.”

Armando dips his head at your accusation, “Who’s to say his body isn’t already in the dumpster in the alley?”

Scrunching up your summerfridays covered lips you rasp, “…that’s not very jolly of you, ya know?”

“Y/n.”

You sigh, stepping back from the door and allowing Armando in, knowing this would probably be a mistake but instantly felt your heart race as he strolled around your penthouse. The curtains are wide open, showing the view of the city lights in various shades of white and rainbow.

He’s leaning against the window, legs crossed at the ankle as Armando rests his forehead against the cool of glass. Slowly closing his eyes, he exhales, while you try to roll the tension out of your neck, folding your arms as you awaited for him to say what he needed to say so you can kick him right out.

“Is Priscilla slumped out in the passenger seat or something…I don’t know why you’re here?” You begin, the drumming of your heart was getting too loud in the quiet of your home and Armando’s presence was the cause of that.

He rolls his eyes and steps back from the glass, which makes you feel a bit better since you always hated when he looked out into Miami like this. It was humorous, you being afraid of heights but snagged you a spot on one of the highest levels in the building. Sometimes he likes to do it just to work your nerves but tonight he needed strength from the lights that guided him here.

Armando clasps his hands in front of him, which lets you know he’s in serious mode, “We don’t gotta talk about her.”

“But we need to talk about Ronan?” You fired off.

His nostrils flare as he exhaled, “He ain’t important either. You’re a free woman and you’re open to do what you want…but don’t think for a second it’s gonna continue.”

“Oh?” You push your lips out in confusion, “You want to play mind games right now? You can let yourself out cause I’m not doing this with you.”

You make your way over to your couch, plopping down and search for your phone to check the ETA on your late night dinner.

“I said we should talk.” Armando restates while he plops right down on your coffee table, sitting in front of you so you had no choice but to meet his eyes, “…I realized that I really didn’t want to go home to Priscilla and not just tonight.”

“Because she represents everything that you’ve tried…for the most part…to leave in the rearview.” You answer as you tap your chin, “Sounds like something I said to you a minute ago huh?”

“I fucked up,” Armando admits with a nod of his head, “And I’m not gonna ask for you take me back because I know I don’t deserve it, not when it seems like I just dropped you like you dont mean the world to me.”

A tongue goes into your cheek, “If this is how you treat your world…I hate to see what your hell looks like.”

He’s quick with it, “I’m living it, without you.”

“I can’t tell.”

“You know me better than you think.” Armando tells, “I felt like I owed it to myself to just see if something was still there. Cilly and I—we had a connection.”

You pointed out, “That your mother set up.”

“Sure but we’ve leaned on each other with our struggles.”

“And that’s love?” You quizzed.

“I never said it was love. Just that we care for each other…had a partnership.”

You sigh, “I thought we had something special too once.”

“I’m in love with you, mami.” Armando stares hard at you, pressing his elbows into his knees as if to get closer to you but still respecting your space, “So much that it hurts to breathe…which I’ve never felt before in my life…and I didn’t just end up here because of my ego. I ended up here because I can’t go any more nights missing you. I’m sorry for picking my past over my priority.”

At a loss for words, you felt blood rushing to your face and possibly tears on the inside. You weren’t really an emotional drunk, more of a hungry and horny type and you aren’t sure if you wanted to remember any of this in the morning. Armando really hurt you good and to hear him say this while the room was spinning like a carousel, to be so vulnerable when he was used to being a shell, meant a lot.

Feeling like you would crumble, you just sink back into the couch, staring at him with glossy eyes. His hand goes to your knee, you don’t move and your eyes close. His touch seemed to only make your heart drum harder. Sweet words can mean anything but actions were always louder.

Maybe Armando did come to you by some unforeseen light. When your eyes opened to meet his, you saw him in a whole new one, a complex man that you were willing to love once upon a time.

Now it was up to you to choose what you would do with this.

Keep the lights on, let them flicker, or…simply unplug them.

⋆⑅˚₊ ⋆⑅˚₊ ⋆⑅˚₊ ⋆⑅˚₊ ⋆⑅˚₊ ⋆⑅˚₊ ⋆⑅˚₊ ⋆⑅˚₊ ⋆⑅˚₊ ⋆⑅˚₊ ⋆⑅˚₊ ⋆⑅˚₊

Continue with my winter anthology prompts here.

#Spotify #queued #armando aretas #Armando aretas lowrey #Armando Aretas x reader #armando aretas x black reader #travis fimmel #winter prompts #Kelly bad boys #Kelly bad boys for life #Kelly bad boys ride or die #Dorn bad boys #Dorn bad boys for life #Dorn bad boys ride or die #mike lowrey #vanessa hudgens #alexander ludwig #jacob scipio

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