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jksarchives · 3 days ago

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TOO LATE

Even after all the promises he made, Jungkook was too late.

➪ PAIRING; jungkook x reader

➪ GENRE; angst, light fluff

➪ TAGS/WARNINGS; mafia au, ANGST, blood, violence, attempted sa (not in detail), use of weapons, major character death, swearing, light fluff

➪ WORDCOUNT; 12.3k

𐚁₊⊹

You sat at the dinner table alone — again. The food that was once warm was now completely cold and untouched on your plate. The atmosphere around you felt heavy. The familiar silence continued to outstretch and the only sound that accompanied you was the soft ticking of the clock on the wall.

The bodyguards stationed in the corners of the dining hall remained expressionless as they stood like statues. You were beginning to get sick of their presence and how it constantly reminded you of the world your fiancé belonged to. A world that you had stepped into because of love, but now, you weren’t sure if love was enough to keep you there.

It was the fifth time this week that you ate dinner alone. It was becoming a routine you didn’t sign up for. On normal days, Jungkook would sit across from you and tease you about the way you always saved your favorite bite for last, or playfully steal food off your plate.

Meal times were your little escape. It was a time when Jeon Jungkook wasn’t the feared leader of a ruthless mafia gang, but just your Jungkook — the man who would hold your hand under the table and kiss you between bites when he’d get the chance.

But lately, he’d been distant. His seat was empty more often than you were used to, and his presence was fading like a dream slipping through your fingers.

Jungkook wasn’t just any ordinary man. He was a king in the underworld. He was a leader that commanded respect and instilled fear in those who considered themselves fearless. He built his empire on discipline and strategy, knowing how to put people in their place without mercy.

He never harmed the innocent though, but when it came to threats, he was quick and remorseless. Drugs, weapons, and underground dealings — he was entangled in all of it. He moved each piece like a master chess player. He lost count of the number of enemies he made along the way, men who wanted nothing more than to see him fall from his grace. But Jungkook was always one step ahead of them. He always prepared with his mind sharper than any blade.

To the world, he was cold, ruthless, and terrifying. His eyes alone were enough to make someone’s legs tremble, or in most cases, wet their pants. He was like a shadow that lingered over the city, and his name was usually whispered in fear.

But to you, he was different.

When it came to you, Jungkook’s walls would fall apart. The hardness in his gaze would melt the moment he would see you. His dark eyes would soften in a way they never did for anyone else. You were his only safe space. Only you could ground him to his senses and to gain control of himself again.

He adored you, and protected you with a devotion that sometimes felt overwhelming. The only reason he had so many bodyguards surrounding you was because of the countless threats he faced daily. Losing you was the one nightmare he couldn’t afford.

You were his world, his universe.

And yet, despite his love for you, you saw the side of him that people knew him for. The side of him that made others fear him. You saw what he was capable of and how easily he could take a life when it was necessary.

Jungkook tried not to scare you off or worry you by coming home covered in blood. But the days where he would, the scent of iron that clung to his clothes was sickening in many ways. He never let his victims go easily, and that was the scariest part of loving him. No matter how gentle he was with you, you couldn’t ignore the darkness beneath his skin.

You knew people whispered about you behind closed doors, calling you insane for staying by his side. Loving a man like Jungkook was dangerous. But despite everything, you couldn’t walk away.

Maybe they were right. Maybe you were insane.

Jungkook was always busy, but he was never too busy for you. He would make time, whether it was a quick coffee break together or late-night conversations in bed when the rest of the world was asleep.

But lately, things had changed. As his nights grew longer, his time with you became shorter. You saw that stress was wearing him down, and with each day that passed, he became more distant.

But to you, it wasn’t the lack of time — it was his attitude.

He was different now, or rather, colder. Some nights, he wouldn’t even bother coming to bed, and choose to drown himself in work instead. And when he did, he was exhausted and barely spoke a word to you before drifting off into another cycle of restless sleep.

Other times, he would lash out and let his frustration spill over onto you in sharp words and tense silences. He was never physically violent — Jungkook would rather die than hurt you that way — but his emotional distance was hurting you just as deep.

At first, you brushed it off, assuming he was stressed and had too much on his plate. He would usually come back to you when things settled down. But as the days passed, you realised the hurt was sinking in.

You missed him. You missed the version of him who would hold you in his arms and promise to keep you safe, who would kiss your lips forehead and tell you how much he loved you. You missed the way he used to smile at you like you were his entire world.

Now, it felt like he was drifting away from you, and you didn’t know how to hold on.

A part of you wanted to confront him and demand to know what was going on. But another part of you — the part that saw his darkest side — hesitated. You weren’t afraid of Jungkook, but you were afraid of pushing him further away.

So you stayed silent, and swallowed the loneliness that was slowly suffocating you.

As you sat there at the empty dinner table, staring at the untouched food, you wondered how much longer you could keep pretending that everything was okay.

And more than that. You wondered if Jungkook even noticed that you were hurting.

You were tired of Jungkook’s attitude. Tired of the way he barely spared you a glance when he was home. Tired of feeling like you were the only one holding onto this relationship while he let it slip through his fingers. You tried to be understanding, tried to be patient, but the loneliness was eating you alive.

It wasn’t just about him being busy anymore. It was about how he treated you. The hurtful words, the cold silences, the way he acted like your presence was an afterthought. You weren’t asking for much, just a little bit of his time, a moment where he could look at you like he used to, where you could feel like you mattered.

But it had been weeks since you had last felt his warmth. And you couldn’t take it anymore.

You decided that tonight, when he came home, you would talk to him. No more bottling up your emotions, no more pretending you were okay when you weren’t. You needed to know where you stood in his life.

At the same time, you prayed he wouldn’t lash out.

Your appetite was long gone at this point. You got up from the chair with your untouched plate of food and walked into the kitchen. You felt drained and your heart heavy with everything you had been suppressing for too long. You didn’t even notice Jungkook entering the house.

The moment he stepped into the kitchen, his sharp eyes landed on you just as you were dumping your food into the bin.

“Seriously, Y/n?” he spoke up. “Wasting food again? Why the hell do you even cook if you’re not going to eat?” he said in irritation.

Your body tensed at his words, and slowly, anger flared inside you. You spun around and placed the plate into the sink with more force than necessary, and the loud clatter echoed in the kitchen. Your patience finally ran out.

“You tell me, Jungkook,” you snapped as your eyes burned with unshed tears.

“Why am I doing this? Why do I sit at that damn table every night, waiting for you like a fool? Why do I keep hoping you’ll come home and actually spend time with me?” your voice cracked with frustration and hurt.

“Fuck, I’m not doing this with you anymore” Jungkook let out a long sigh, and ran his tattooed hand through his already disheveled hair before turning away, as if he had no energy to argue. But that only fueled your anger even more.

“Do what?” you snapped, “have a decent and mature conversation?”

You clenched your fists. “You know what, Jungkook? I’m tired. I’m so fucking tired of your attitude. I get that you’re busy, I get that your world is dangerous, but that doesn’t give you the right to treat me like this. I’m not your enemy. I’m not someone you can just ignore until it’s convenient for you.”

Jungkook’s jaw tightened, but you pushed forward because you were unable to stop the words spilling from your lips. “All I want is for you to spare some time for me. Just a little. Because I miss you. I miss us. Why can’t you understand that?”

Jungkook exhaled sharply, as if he was barely holding onto his patience. “Like I said, Y/n, I’m not doing this with you. I don’t have time for this. I have another mission to go to” his voice was firm and cold, but the worst part was the way he wouldn’t even look at you.

“I want you to stay in the house. Don’t go out. Understand me?” it was only then when his dark eyes finally met yours. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes that made your stomach twist. A warning almost.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Another mission? Seriously? Again?” your voice was rising now, the pain overtaking your restraint.

“What the hell is up with you lately? We’ve been together for almost seven years, and I’ve never seen you like this!”

Jungkook’s expression hardened, but you pressed on. “Please,” your voice softened, cracking towards the end.

“I just want to spend time with you. It’s been so long, Jungkook. I miss you. I miss your kisses. I miss your warmth and your stupid little jokes” your eyes shimmered with tears while your chest ached. “I don’t need grand gestures, I just need you. Can’t you give me that?”

For a split second, something sort of guilt and regret flickered in Jungkook’s eyes. You weren’t sure. But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by frustration.

“Well, I can’t fucking be there for you twenty-four-seven Y/n!” he snapped. “I have important things to take care of! I run a mafia gang, do you get that? I have responsibilities that you can’t even begin to understand!”

You flinched at the venom in his words, but he wasn’t done.

“Why can’t you just understand that? Why do you have to be so needy and clingy every single day?” his voice kept rising. “Just get over it already!”

His words hit you harder than any bullet ever could.

Needy. Clingy. As if wanting to be with him was a burden. As if your love, your presence, was nothing but an inconvenience.

You stared at him as your heart shattered into a million pieces, and in that moment, you realised something. You weren’t sure if the man standing in front of you was the same Jungkook you had fallen in love with.

And worse. You weren’t sure if you could keep waiting for him to come back.

But there’s always a second side of a story.

Two weeks ago, a small group of Jungkook’s highly skilled men were shot down by a rival gang in a brutal ambush that shook the very foundation of his organisation. Since then, he had been working tirelessly to track them down. He spent sleepless nights planning counterattacks, calling in reinforcements, and trying to ensure the safety of what remained of his team.

But with that responsibility came an unbearable level of stress, and that stress had started to take a toll on him. He became more irritable and more distant. His patience wore thinner each day, and when he wasn’t out dealing with gang matters, he spent what little time he had at home in a constant state of frustration. The worst part was that you became an unintentional victim of his temper.

You tried to be understanding. You knew his world was dangerous and the pressure he was under. But that didn’t make it any easier when he lashed out at you. That didn’t make it hurt any less when he acted like you were just another problem on his never-ending list of things to deal with.

And tonight was no different.

The moment the words left his mouth, you felt the sting of them like a slap. You flinched slightly, and your body tensed as your vision blurred with more tears.

Jungkook’s anger wavered when he saw your expression shift. He didn’t mean to raise his voice like that. He didn’t mean to let his exhaustion get the better of him. But it was too late. Your heart was already breaking.

Tears finally began to cascade down your cheeks, and the sight made Jungkook curse under his breath. He hated seeing you cry. He hated being the reason for your pain, yet lately, it felt like he was doing nothing but hurting you. That realisation made his chest twist with an ache that wasn’t just guilt but something more. Something he couldn’t quite put into words.

Sighing, he took a slow step towards you. You instinctively took a small step back, but he closed the distance before you could put any real space between you. His large hands reached out, and he hesitated for a brief second before finally cupping your face gently.

His calloused fingers brushed against your soft skin as he wiped the tears from your cheeks, his touch softer than his words had been moments ago.

“Look at me,” he murmured, his voice now quieter and gentler.

You hesitated but slowly lifted your gaze to meet his. His dark eyes, though still clouded with fatigue, now held regret. “I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered, his thumbs brushing against your damp skin.

“I didn’t mean to say any of that. You know how busy and stressed I am. It’s not that I don’t want to make time for you…” his voice trailed off for a moment before he sighed again.

“I just…don’t know how to balance everything right now.”

Jungkook let out another deep sigh as his hands moved to hold you by the waist, leaning in to rest his forehead against yours. “I know it’s not a good reason to lash out at you like that. I’m really sorry for that baby. You know I love you” his dark eyes searched yours, like he silently pleaded for your forgiveness.

“I know how much you miss me and need me,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “Trust me, I do too. But once everything is settled down, you can have me all you want. I swear baby” his thumb gently brushed over your cheek, wiping away the remnants of your tears.

“But for now…I have to fix things first. You just have to wait a little longer for me.” Jungkook was beyond exhausted. It was obvious he was drowning under the pressure of his responsibilities.

“You know I want to keep you safe from all these bad people,” he mumbled, his voice breaking slightly at the end. “Because I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Before you could respond, he leaned down and closed the distance between you as his lips captured yours in a soft, lingering kiss.

It was slow and desperate, like a silent plea for you to understand his world and his burdens. The warmth of his lips, despite the cold winter outside, against yours sent shivers down your spine. But as your body melted into his embrace, you felt a tear slip down your cheek, mixing with the kiss.

A small cry escaped your mouth. You were overwhelmed with the emotions pouring out of you. Jungkook immediately pulled away, his brows furrowing as he cupped your face once more. His fingers traced over your soft skin delicately, as if you were something fragile — something he already damaged too much.

“Please don’t cry baby. I’m sorry for everything,” he pleaded with his voice strained with guilt. His hands trembled slightly as he wiped your tears away with his thumbs, and pressed gentle kisses on your damp cheeks.

“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. Fuck, I’m such a dick” he shook his head, angry with himself. His own emotions were raw as his walls crumbled in front of you. And you could see it — the pain, the exhaustion, the love.

He pulled you into a tight hug and wrapped his arms around you without saying another word. You laid your head on his sturdy chest and felt the heat radiating from his body, and the soft vibrations of his heartbeat against your ear. His breathing was heavy as he tried to calm you down with his hand stroking your back soothingly.

You closed your eyes and allowed yourself to sink into the comfort of his arms. It was moments like this that reminded you why you had fallen for him in the first place. Because beneath the tough exterior, beneath the leader of a dangerous mafia gang, he was still Jungkook. The same man who loved you, the same man who would do anything to protect you.

Minutes passed in silence and the tension slowly eased between you. Your body had stopped trembling and the tears had finally stopped flowing.

When you pulled away a little, your gaze softened slightly as you took in his appearance. It was only now that you truly noticed how exhausted he looked — the slight bags under his eyes, the tension in his jaw, the way his shoulders carried the weight of the world.

That was when you saw it — a small cut on his lower lip, a bruise darkening his cheekbone.

You let out a small gasp. “You’re hurt.”

Jungkook blinked, confused for a second, before realising what you were looking at. He scoffed lightly, shaking his head. “It’s nothing. Just a scratch.”

You reached up without thinking. Your fingers ghosted over the bruise, careful not to apply too much pressure. His skin was warm beneath your fingertips, and for a moment, everything else faded — the fights, the frustration, the distance.

“You got this on your mission, didn’t you?” you asked quietly. He didn’t answer immediately, but his silence was enough of an answer.

Jungkook let out another sigh as he dropped his hands from your face, running them through his hair instead. “Some of my men were shot down by a rival gang,” he finally admitted. “And because of that, the number of people I trust has gone down. I’ve been working non-stop to recruit the right men for my team. I just want to make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

He paused and glanced away for a second before looking back at you. “It’s not an easy job. I have to take care of so many things at once. The missions, the team, making sure no one else gets killed…”

He exhaled sharply. “It’s stressing me out so much.”

You could hear the exhaustion in his voice, even see it in the way his shoulders slumped slightly as if the weight of everything he carried was finally starting to crush him.

For the first time in weeks, you saw something unfiltered, something vulnerable in him. You reached for his hand and laced your fingers through his. He looked down at the small gesture as his thumb brushed absentmindedly against your skin.

“I know it’s not easy,” you murmured.

“And I know you’re under a lot of pressure. But Jungkook, I don’t want to be just another thing you have to deal with. I don’t want to feel like a burden to you. I want to be someone who you could talk to whenever you’re feeling like this.”

His eyes snapped up to yours instantly, almost in panic. “You’re not a burden baby” he said quickly. “Never.”

You swallowed hard. “Then stop treating me like one.”

For a long moment, there was silence. And then, for the first time in weeks, Jungkook let his guard down completely. He pulled you into his arms and held you tightly, as if he was afraid you would slip through away from him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into your hair. “I don’t mean to push you away. I just…I don’t want you to get caught up in all this. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

You closed your eyes, exhaling softly against his chest. “I just want you, Jungkook. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

And for now, that was enough.

Suddenly the silence was broken by a loud grumble from your stomach. Jungkook pulled back slightly with a small smirk playing on his lips. “Princess, you’re hungry.”

You frowned, “I don’t want to eat” you mumbled under your breath.

Jungkook sighed and shook his head. “You have to baby. You can’t go to bed with an empty stomach” he tried to be firm.

He glanced at his watch to check the time. He only had about ten minutes of spare time before he had to go back to work. “Come on, let’s eat,” he said and gently pulled you away from his chest. You hesitated for a moment before finally nodding.

Jungkook held your hand as he led you further into the kitchen. He reheated his food while making sure to put an extra portion on your plate. His movements were casual, yet there was something comforting about the way he cared for you. The two of you then sat down at the dining table and enjoyed the peaceful meal together, something that became rare due to his responsibilities.

Between bites, you couldn’t help but smile. “This is really good, babe,” he complimented as he looked at you with his dark brown eyes. His voice was soft. He wasn’t the ruthless gang leader everyone feared — he was just Jungkook. Your Jungkook.

You grinned as you chewed, feeling content. “I wish you were home more often to taste my great food,” you pouted, playfully nudging his arm. You knew he loved your cooking, and you took pride in the fact that, despite his dangerous life, he still found comfort in the meals you made for him.

“I know, I’m so—”

Before he could finish his sentence, the dining room door suddenly burst open. One of his men entered in a rush, panting as if he had run across the entire mansion. You were startled at the sudden entrance, and Jungkook noticed. His relaxed demeanour vanished in an instant, replaced by a cold, hard expression he was fearfully known for.

He hated being interrupted, especially when he was with you.

“Boss, everyone is ready to leave. The Ravenclaw gang should be there any moment,” the man reported urgently.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched while his grip on his fork tightened until his knuckles turned white. The entire room seemed to darken as his expression shifted. Without warning, he slammed his fork onto the table. You flinched once again at the sound, feeling your breath catching in your throat as you placed a hand over your chest.

He abruptly pushed his chair back and stood up, his movements swift and intimidating. Without hesitation, he grabbed the boy by the collar, yanking him forward and slamming him against the wall. The boy let out a startled gasp, his eyes widening in terror.

“You know I fucking hate when people burst through the door without knocking and interrupting me,” Jungkook growled, his voice low and dangerous. His grip tightened and knuckles turned even paler as he held the boy in place.

The boy gulped as his entire body trembled. He knew he had screwed up — badly. “I-I’m sorry, b-boss,” he stuttered.

Jungkook’s eyes flashed with unrelenting fury. “I made this rule very fucking clear when I recruited you, and you still can’t follow it?!” he barked.

You watched the scene unfold with a pounding heart. You knew Jungkook had a temper, but it was worse tonight. He was already on edge, and this interruption had only set him off further. While his anger was understandable, you could tell he was overreacting.

It wasn’t just about the boy barging in — it was everything. The stress, the pressure, the constant weight of leading an empire. He never got a moment to breathe, never got a second to just be himself. And now, he was taking it all out on this poor boy.

You saw Jungkook’s hand twitch and his fingers subtly moving toward his waistline. Your eyes widened in alarm as you realised what he was about to do.

He was reaching for his gun.

Panic surged through you as you shot up from your chair and rushed towards him. Without thinking, you grabbed his arm and held onto him tightly. “Koo, please calm down,” you pleaded, your voice gentle yet firm.

“He just made a mistake. Let him go. Please.”

Jungkook’s body was tense with barely restrained rage beneath your touch. You tightened your grip on his arm, your fingers pressing into his skin. “Please,” you repeated softly, looking up at him.

Silence filled the room. Jungkook’s chest rose and fell with each deep inhale he took. His grip on the boy’s collar slowly loosened, only slightly, but his jaw remained clenched. He looked at you before finally exhaling a sharp breath.

With one last glare he shoved the boy away, releasing him from his death grip. The boy stumbled back, visibly shaken, but he didn’t dare make a sound.

Jungkook slowly lowered his hand and slipped his gun back into place. His entire body was still rigid, but he had listened to you. He always did.

“Get out and wait in the car with the others. I’ll be there soon,” he snapped at the boy. His tone left no room for argument. The boy nodded frantically and bolted out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him as he did.

You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding as your grip on Jungkook’s arm loosened. He was still tense, his jaw tight, his hands balled into fists at his sides.

You frowned as you looked at Jungkook. “What was that there? He looked terrified,” you asked.

Jungkook barely spared you a glance. “Good. He should’ve knocked before coming in,” he replied sternly. His strict nature when it came to his rules wasn’t surprising, but sometimes, you wished he wouldn’t be so harsh on the people working for him.

Carefully, you reached up and cupped his face in your hands. His eyes softened as they met yours. “Koo,” you murmured, brushing your thumb along his cheek. “You need to breathe.”

He let out a slow breath as he closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, the storm inside them calmed — just a little.

“I just hate when people don’t listen,” he muttered quietly.

“I know,” you said softly. “But you can’t let it consume you.”

His shoulders slumped slightly as he leaned into your touch. For all his strength, for all his power, you were the one thing that could ground him. “Let’s just finish the food, hmm?” you tried to coax him in hopes to bring back the peaceful moment you had before the interruption.

But Jungkook sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I can’t now baby. I have to go,” he said softly as he looked at you.

Your expression fell instantly. A deep disappointment settled in your chest, but also fear. No matter how many times he left for these missions, the worry never faded. The possibility of him not coming home lingered in your mind like a ghost that refused to stop haunting you.

He noticed the sudden change in your demeanour and reached out to gently cup your face in his warm hands. His thumbs brushed over your cheeks as he looked you into your eyes. “I promise I’ll be back soon, hmm?” he reassured you softly.

You swallowed hard and pressed your lips together as you tried to hold back the unease bubbling inside you. “But…what if something happens to you?” you whispered, your voice barely audible. Before you knew it, your arms wrapped around his torso as you held him tightly, like you could somehow keep him from leaving.

Jungkook chuckled, the deep sound reverberating through his chest. He stroked your hair soothingly. “Nothing will happen to me love. I’m a strong man,” he teased as he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. You knew he was trying to lighten the mood, but it didn’t help much. The anxiety in your heart was still there.

“You should go to sleep now. It’s getting late,” he murmured against your hair, pulling away slightly to look at you again. “I’ll get going.”

But you groaned and tightened your arms around him like a child refusing to let go of their favorite toy. “Babe, please,” you whined.

Jungkook sighed, shaking his head with amusement. “I’m getting late,” he whined back in a playful tone, mimicking you. “You’re acting like a baby now,” he chuckled, his usual serious demeanour cracking just a little as he poked fun at you.

Despite the comfort of the moment, you still didn’t want him to go. You buried your face into his chest for a few more seconds before reluctantly loosening your grip. Jungkook took the opportunity to finally pull away, though he lingered just a moment longer, his fingers brushing against your wrist before stepping back.

His playful expression faded as he turned serious again. He called for one of his men in a sharp and commanding tone. “What’s the position of the Ravenclaw gang?” he asked.

The man who was holding an iPad quickly updated him. “It looks like they’re at the Riverdale Bar. They should be at the abandoned warehouse in about five minutes,” he reported.

Jungkook gave a curt nod as he processed the information. The air around him shifted again. He was no longer your teasing, affectionate fiancé. He was the ruthless leader his men feared and respected. The moment he stepped into that mindset, there was no turning back.

The man hurried out of the room after receiving his silent dismissal. Jungkook turned back to you, and scanned your face. You were still standing there, watching him with those same worried eyes, and he sighed.

Without a word, he stepped forward and scooped you up into his arms. You let out a surprised yelp and instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck as he carried you out of the dining room and up the stairs.

“Jungkook, what are you doing?” you asked.

“If you’re not going to listen and go to bed yourself, then I’ll make you,” he said simply, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. You pouted but didn’t argue. He was too strong to fight off anyway.

Reaching the bedroom, he stepped inside and gently laid you down on the bed. His hands carefully adjusted you to make sure you were comfortable before grabbing a nearby blanket and draping it over you.

Then, instead of leaving immediately, he sat beside you with his fingers brushing through your silky hair absentmindedly. His eyes softened. “You really worry about me that much?” he murmured after a moment.

You looked up at him, your throat tightening. “Of course I do,” you admitted. “You’re my everything Jungkook, and my heart never rests when you’re not here with me”

His lips pressed into a thin line as he let out a slow exhale. “I know,” he said, his voice quieter now. “I’ll be careful” was all he could promise.

Jungkook sighed softly as he continued to run his fingers through your hair, brushing a few strands away from your face along the way. He looked down at you with tenderness, but there was also worry in his dark eyes. He never liked leaving you, especially at night, but his duty called.

“Right, I’m going to go now,” he murmured. “And like I said, I promise to be back home soon, so just go to sleep, okay?”

You bit your lip as your stomach churned with unease. No matter how many times he reassured you, the fear never went away. Every time he stepped out of that door, there was a possibility he wouldn’t come back. The world he was a part of was dangerous and unpredictable.

“Please be careful,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. “Come home safe — and alive.”

Jungkook’s gaze softened as he cupped your face, his thumbs tracing small circles on your cheeks. “Hey, I’m going to be fine. I promise,” he said with a small reassuring smile before leaning down to capture your lips in a soft kiss.

He kissed you once, then again, and again, each peck lingering just a little longer than the last. It was as if he couldn’t bring himself to stop, as if he needed to memorise the feel of your lips before he walked away.

You clutched onto his hoodie to hold him close as you kissed him back, your heart aching at the same time. “I love you so much,” he murmured between kisses.

“I love you too,” you whispered, pressing your forehead against his. “Please be safe.”

Jungkook exhaled deeply and pressed one final kiss to your lips before pulling away. He stood up from the bed and ran a hand through his dark hair as he looked down at you. “You know what to do,” he reminded you with a serious tone. “Call me if anything happens, okay?”

You nodded weakly with your hands still gripping the blanket that covered you. Jungkook’s lips curled into a small affectionate smile. “Goodnight, princess.”

“Goodnight baby” you whispered. Jungkook turned off the light switch and quietly exited the room. You listened to the sound of his footsteps fading down the hall. Then, silence.

You sighed and curled up on your side. The bed felt emptier without him. Despite the lingering anxiety in your chest, tiredness soon took over, and you drifted off into a restless sleep.

But little did you know, you weren’t alone.

A figure stood motionless outside. His presence was barely noticeable because his breathing was slow and controlled. His lips curled into a sinister smirk as he listened to the soft sound of your breathing from inside the room.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a phone and dialed a number. The call was answered almost instantly. “Hello, boss?” the man spoke in a hushed voice. “Yeah, he’s gone. And his little bitch is sleeping.”

He let out a low chuckle as his fingers tapped lightly against the wall. “I’ll distract the bodyguard guarding the back area and signal you to come in,” he continued smoothly as his eyes flickered toward the entrance of the house.

There was a pause as he listened to the voice on the other end. Then, with a satisfied smirk, he nodded. “Yeah, okay, boss. See you soon.”

He ended the call and shoved the phone back into his pocket before glancing back at your closed bedroom door. His smirk widened. “Hope you spent your last day well, Miss Kim,” he muttered under his breath before leaving.

The night was supposed to be peaceful. Everything was silent, except for the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. But then something woke you up. A sudden noise.

Living with Jungkook and around his lifestyle, your senses have sharpened throughout the years. You were up almost immediately because it wasn’t just any noise. It was the kind that didn’t belong during quiet hours in this house.

You froze, and your heart began to pound furiously in your chest. It sounded like whispering — low murmurs from downstairs. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as a deep, unsettling feeling crept into your gut.

Carefully, you removed the blanket, ensuring that not even the softest rustle gave away your movement. You tiptoed towards the door and pressed your ear against it. Silence. For a moment, you wondered if your mind played a trick on you, but then you heard it again — soft, hushed voices just below.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you unlocked the door. You pushed it open just enough to peek into the dimly lit hallway. There was no one in sight. But the feeling of being watched made you paranoid.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped out. Each step down the stairs was slow and calculated, while your heart thudded louder with every inch you descended. You reached the ground floor, and your eyes landed on a familiar figure. You bodyguard, standing still with his back facing you.

Relief washed over you for a brief moment, but something felt…wrong.

“Hello? Is anybody down there?” you called out.

But your bodyguard didn’t respond. He stood eerily still, and that’s when you noticed it — his posture was tense. “Who was making the noise?” you asked cautiously.

And then, when he turned, your blood ran cold. It wasn’t him.

The man before you wore the same uniform, but his face was one you had never seen before. His eyes were dark, lit with a sinister amusement. Your breath hitched. You knew every single one of Jungkook’s bodyguards, and this man was not one of them. He was an imposter.

Your heart pounded as fear took hold. “W-Who are you? A-And what are y-you doing h-here?” you stammered, taking a step back.

The man smirked, his lips curling with something close to satisfaction. Slowly, he advanced toward you. You instinctively backed away, step by step, until the cold wall met your back. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides as your mind raced for an escape.

Then, a sudden rustling filled the air. From the corner of your eyes, men emerged silently, dressed in sleek grey suits. And then, you saw it — the glint of metal. Handguns. Panic overflowed through you. You spun around, but before you could run, they surrounded you, cutting off every possible escape.

One of the men stepped forward. His presence seemed like he was the leader, commanding. His eyes burned into yours with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. You swallowed hard and tried to mask the fear threatening to consume you.

“We’re really sorry for disturbing your sleep. But don’t worry, you’ll get plenty of sleep when we’re done with you.” His voice was a whisper against your ear, yet it held the weight of a threat. A shiver ran down your spine once again as you felt his breath against your skin.

Your throat went dry. “W-Who are you, and what do you want from me?” you demanded, though your voice trembled despite your best efforts to sound strong.

The man chuckled darkly and tilted his head to study you. “Who I am is none of your business, love. But what I want…is you. You and your blood smeared on my hands. Revenge for what your little fiancé did.”

Jungkook.

Your breath hitched again. Your mind raced to try and piece together what he meant. What did Jungkook do? Who were these men?

Your pulse thundered in your ears as you took another shaky step back, but there was nowhere to go. The men were closing in, their faces cold and merciless. You had to get out. You had to call Jungkook.

But the chances of escaping this room alive? Very, very slim.

Your eyes started to pool with tears as your body shook aggressively. “But I want to have fun before I get started with the real shit” he said, trailing his fingers along your bare shoulder.

But your instincts soon took over. You smacked his hand away and, with all your strength, drove your knee into his groin. The man let out a loud grunt as he doubled over in pain. Without hesitation, you shoved him aside and bolted for the door.

But before you could even reach it, his men blocked your path like a wall of stone. Your panic peaked as you spun around, looking for another way out.

“You little—” he snarled with rage burning in his eyes as he recovered. He lunged at you and grabbed your wrist in a bruising grip. You struggled and thrashed against him, but he was stronger.

“Let go of me!” you screamed as you twisted and turned in his hold.

But he wouldn’t budge. So you did the last thing there was to do. You reached down to his wrist and sank your teeth into his flesh with a force that was enough to break his skin. The man screamed out in pain and his grip on you loosened. You took the opportunity to shove him and move as far as you could away from him and his men.

But he was quick to recover this time too. When his head snapped to your direction, clutching onto his arm, you could see the rage in his eyes tripling.

“You bitch!” he lunged at you again and grabbed you by the hair, causing you to let out a loud painful shriek. He then pulled you in and threw you over his shoulder.

“LET GO OF ME! PUT ME DOWN” you screamed, but all fell into deaf ears.

“Move out of the way boys, I’m going to teach this slut a lesson first. She messed with the wrong guy” he said.

The men stepped aside and allowed him to walk past, while you cried and pounded your fists against his back. You were kicking wildly, but he didn't budge.

Once he reached a random guest bedroom, he threw you onto the bed with such force that you bounced against the mattress. Your pulse quickened as he removed his suit jacket and tossed it aside. His monstrous eyes locked onto you with dangerous intent.

You refused to let fear paralyse you. You refused to let him take advantage of you. Crawling backward, you pressed yourself against the headboard. “D-Don't come any closer,” you warned.

He smirked. “Or what?” he challenged, jumping on the bed and pinning you down. “You can’t do shit love, so be quiet and let me do my thing” he said leaning closer to your neck.

“NO! GET AWAY FROM ME YOU BASTARD!” you screamed, trying to push him away but failing. It only earned you a hard smack in the face that caused your head to turn sideways. You glared at him with your tearful but hateful eyes.

Just before he could do anything else, you brought your knee up and kneed him in the groin once again. Taking advantage of the brief distraction, you grabbed the nearest object — a heavy lamp — and swung it across his head with everything you had.

The impact sent him staggering back, clutching his head.

Breathing heavily, you scrambled off the bed and made a break for the door. Your hands fumbled with the lock as footsteps pounded behind you. Just as he lunged, you wrenched the door open and darted down the hallway.

Shouts erupted from the men downstairs as they realised you were escaping. Your adrenaline fueled you as you ran towards your bedroom and slammed the door shut behind you. You locked it and pressed your back against the wood as you tried to catch your breath.

Heavy footsteps soon approached. They wouldn't let you get away.

With shaky hands, you snatched your phone from the nightstand and quickly dialed Jungkook’s number. Each ring felt like an eternity. Your breaths came in short gasps as you fought the panic closing in at your throat. When he finally picked up, a wave of relief washed over you.

“Hey babe, you okay?”

Jungkook sounded a little concerned, you could tell, but you couldn’t get a word out. Your breathing was ragged and uneven, and you could feel the hot sting of tears in your eyes. Your entire body was shaking uncontrollably.

Jungkook immediately stopped what he was doing. His expression hardened as he sensed something was terribly wrong.

“Y/n, are you okay? What happened? Say something.”

You let out a broken sob, the tears rolling down your cheeks as your grip on the phone tightened. “There’s someone i-in the h-house, Jungkook…a g-group of men. I-I don’t k-know w-who they are a-and—” your voice cracked, and fear rendered you almost speechless.

Jungkook’s heart plummeted. His worst nightmare was unfolding, and he wasn’t there to protect you. His knuckles turned white as he clenched his fist. His heart was hammering in his chest in fear. His men, who were waiting for orders, noticed his sudden shift in demeanour. Without hesitation, he turned to them.

“Princess, tell me exactly what happened. I’m coming, okay? Go and hide somewhere safe.”

His words were urgent, but he tried to keep his voice steady for your sake. He signalled half of his men to follow him, while the others remained behind to finish the mission. His protective instincts had fully taken over. Nothing mattered more than getting to you.

You sobbed into the phone as you hurriedly whispered everything you had seen and heard. Your voice shook and every breath you took showed how scared you were.

Meanwhile, Jungkook’s blood boiled with uncontainable rage. He gritted his teeth, with fury and fear intertwining in his chest like a storm. He always feared something like this would happen — someone coming for you when he wasn’t there.

And now, it was real.

His grip on the steering wheel tightened as he sped down the road, his heart racing faster than the car itself. “Please come h-home soon Jungkook, I’m scared. I don’t want to d-die,” you choked out.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched. “Nothing will happen to you, okay? I’m on my way. Stay hidden. Stay on the call with me, don’t hang up.”

You did as he told you and hurriedly slipped into the closet in your bedroom, curling up into a ball as you tried to keep your breathing steady. Every sound in the house made your pulse skyrocket. Your body was frozen in fear, but Jungkook’s voice in your ear kept you from breaking down completely.

“I hate this, Jungkook. I hate all the guns and the violence,” you whispered. Jungkook’s heart ached at your words. He knew. He knew you never wanted to be caught up in this world, but you had become his weakness, his greatest vulnerability. And now, you were paying the price for loving him.

“I know baby. Just hold on a little longer. I swear, I’ll be there soon.” And with that, he pressed down on the accelerator harder because he was determined to get to you before it was too late.

It was then when you heard faint creaking of the floorboards which sent a violent shiver down your spine, and you curled deeper into the corner of the closet as you tried to regulate your breathing. The room outside was silent, too eerily silent, except for the slow footsteps that were approaching you. Each of them felt like a countdown to your doom. You clutched your phone tighter, but your trembling fingers barely were able to hold on.

Was this the end?

Jungkook was still on the line, still half way there, but you feared it would be too late. “I love you, Koo.” you whispered as tears continued to roll down your cheeks. “Please come quickly...I'm scared.”

Tears stung his eyes as his breathing became uneven, “I love you too baby. Just hang in there, I’m almost home.”

And then, you heard a click. It was an unmistakable sound of a gun being loaded. Your stomach dropped.

“I love you,” you whispered like they were your final words.

The closet door was soon yanked open with brutal force, and your phone nearly slipped from your grasp as you looked up, terror finally paralysing you. “There you are, you bitch,” the man sneered as a cold smirk stretched across his face.

Jungkook's blood ran cold as he heard that familiar voice. “Y/N?!” his voice cracked in fear as he heard your muffled gasp. He was still too far away.

“Hello? Y/n? Are you there?” his voice came through the phone frantically. But before you could utter a single word, a rough hand grabbed your wrist and yanked you out of the cramped closet. The force sent you stumbling, and the phone slipped from your grasp, clattering onto the cold, hard floor.

A scream tore from your throat as the man's grip tightened, his fingers tangling in your hair and yanking your head back. Pain shot through your scalp, but the terror in your chest overshadowed it. “Y/N!” your fiancé yelled.

“YOU BASTARD, LET HER GO NOW!” Jungkook desperately screamed, but there was no one to answer him — only your frantic cries and the scuffle of shoes against the ground.

Then, he heard an ear piercing scream, followed by a deafening gunshot.

The line went dead, and Jungkook's heart stopped.

“No. No, no, no. This can't be happening” his breathing grew ragged, his fingers gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned whiter than they were before. He slammed his foot on the accelerator and weaved recklessly through traffic, his mind spiraling with fear. Was that gunshot meant for you? Were you hurt?

Or worse.

The thought made him sick and his blood boiled with rage. He prayed and he begged that you were still alive, that he wasn't too late. If he found even a single scratch on you, he wouldn't rest until he made the man who took you suffer.

He was coming for you.

Reaching the mansion, Jungkook slammed the brakes and jumped out of the car before it had even come to a complete stop. His heart was pounding violently, breath ragged and vision blurred by tears streaming down his cheeks as he sprinted towards the grand entrance. The moment he stepped inside, his stomach twisted in horror.

Bodies of his men and his loyal guards lay motionless scattered across the floor in pools of red. The scent of gunpowder and death lingering in the air was compelling, and it was suffocating him.

The mansion was eerily silent. No gunfire, no voices. Just an overwhelming, deafening silence. But his mind focused on one thing only — you.

“Y/N?! BABY, WHERE ARE YOU?!” he shouted desperately, his voice cracking. He ran through the halls, kicking open each door as he searched for you frantically. But there was no answer. His hands shook as he gripped the staircase railing. His legs were moving on their own and carried him upstairs.

“Y/n, please. Where are you, honey?” his voice came out weaker this time. It was a desperate plea rather than a demand.

Then, a small, delicate voice reached his ears.

“Jungkook?”

His breath hitched, and he spun around so fast he almost lost his balance. Then, he saw you. Standing in the doorway of the guest room. Relief washed over him like a crashing wave, and for a brief moment, the chaos around him ceased to exist.

“Oh my god, there you are!” he exhaled as he closed the distance between you in a few quick strides. His hands ached to touch you, to hold you, to make sure you were real.

You took a step forward, but something about the way you moved made him a little puzzled. Your steps were slow and irregular. Your lips were quivering while tears streamed down your face.

But still, you smiled at him — a soft, tired smile, like a person who had fought too hard and was finally surrendering.

Jungkook ignored the unease curling in his stomach and pulled you into his arms, holding you so tightly. He pressed his lips against your forehead, “I was so scared, I thought they hurt you” he whispered.

You didn’t respond, only melting into his embrace with your head resting against his firm chest as if you belonged there.

For a moment, everything seemed okay.

Until it wasn’t. Because it was then when Jungkook felt it.

A wet sensation against his palm.

At first, he thought it was just sweat, maybe even tears. But when he lifted his hand, his confusion turned into gut-wrenching terror. His fingers were stained red.

His blood ran cold.

Slowly, he pulled away. His breathing became shallow as his eyes locked onto the dark patch spreading across your dark blue pyjama top. His stomach reeled.

“No…no, no, no.”

His voice was barely above a whisper, but his body screamed. His fingers trembled violently as they reached for the fabric, peeling it away just enough to reveal the truth that shattered his entire world.

Three bullet holes.

Right in your abdomen.

Jungkook’s mind blanked. His heart thumped so loudly he could barely hear anything else. His chest clenched as panic gripped at his throat.

“No, baby, stay with me, okay? Just stay with me!” he was frantic. His hands pressed against your wounds to try and stop the bleeding, but the crimson liquid seeped through his fingers too fast.

You wobbled slightly, and your body leaned against him for support. Your eyes were fluttering as you struggled to keep them open.

“Jungkook…” you murmured weakly.

“No, don’t talk like that! You’re going to be fine. I’ll get you help, I promise” his voice broke as he cradled you in his arms. He held you tight as if holding you close would somehow keep you from slipping away.

But your body was growing weaker.

Jungkook’s world was falling apart, and he was powerless to stop it.

The pain continued to spread like wildfire through your body, triggering your legs to shake uncontrollably beneath you and shredding any remaining strength. The world around you was hazy, darkness was beginning to invade the periphery of your vision, and your thoughts struggled to remain alert. But the pain was unbearable and your body could no longer bear the weight of it.

A sharp gasp escaped your lips as your legs finally gave out, and you collapsed. Jungkook moved faster than he ever had in his life. His arms shot forward and caught you just before you hit the floor. His heart pounded so hard it felt like it would burst.

“No…no, no, no!” he mumbled desperately as he pulled you into his lap. His hands pressed against your wounds while his entire body was shaking. The warmth of your blood oozed through his fingers, and a horrifying contrast to the coldness began to creep into your skin.

A raw, desperate cry ripped from his throat. “SOMEONE CALL THE AMBULANCE!” he screamed in panic that echoed through the empty halls.

But you shook your head weakly. Your breathing laboured, and every word was a struggle now, every syllable dripping with pain.

“N-No, it’s o-okay. T-There’s n-n-no need t-to. I-It’s g-going to be t-too l-late…”

Jungkook’s heart shattered at your words. His hold on you tightened more as if he could physically hold onto your life and keep it from slipping away.

“N-No! Don’t say that! You’re going to be o-okay. I won’t let anything happen to you!” he choked out as his tears dripped onto your skin.

You tried to smile, but it came out weak and broken. “K-Koo…y-you know I-I’m n-not going to make it. L-Look at me…”

He couldn’t. He didn’t want to. Because looking at you meant accepting the truth. Looking at you meant accepting that this was happening, that he was losing you, that no matter how much he wished, begged, or prayed, he couldn’t save you.

Jungkook shook his head furiously. “No! No, don’t talk like that! You have to fight, please! Stay with me, baby, please!”

He had imagined a future with you — a lifetime together, a wedding, a home filled with joy, and your children. He promised himself that he would always protect you, that no harm would ever come to you.

And yet, here you were, bleeding out to death in his arms.

He was too late.

A sob racked his chest as his fingers traced your paling cheek. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” he whimpered, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath shaky. “This is all my fault…”

You looked up at him through hooded eyes. Eyes that were still filled with love despite the agonising pain you were in. With great effort, you lifted your hand and cupped his cheek. Your thumb grazed over his skin in an attempt to comfort him.

“I-It’s not y-your f-fault. It’s no one’s fault…” you whispered, though even as you spoke, your voice was fading, your breaths becoming shallower.

Jungkook felt his entire being fracture. His hand cradled your face while his tears mixed with the blood staining his skin. “No, no, no…baby, please…” his voice cracked as he shook his head.

The only sound between you was his broken cries and your ragged, weakening breathing.

His grief turned to fury. His hands clenched into fists, his jaw tightening. He knew who did this to you, and he swore they would pay.

“I promise you, I will hunt down the bastard who did this. I swear, I will rip his head off” his voice was low with murderous intent. He spoke as if making that promise alone could keep you alive.

But deep down, he knew.

You were slipping away. And that there was little he could do to stop it.

Your fingers clutched weakly at the fabric of Jungkook’s shirt. Your grip was faltering as every ounce of strength drained from your body. The pain was unbearable now, like a fire consuming you from the inside out, but even worse than the agony was the sight of him — his face twisted with devastation, tears endlessly streaming down his bruised cheeks, his hands shaking as they cradled your dying form.

You could barely keep your eyes open, but you had to tell him. You had to make him promise.

“P-Promise me…you’ll m-move o-on and f-find someone e-else…” your voice cracked with pain, your breathing growing more ragged. “I d-don’t want y-you to be s-sad forever when I’m g-gone.”

Jungkook’s entire body stiffened. His heart clenched as if someone had reached into his chest and crushed it in their grip.

“No. No, never” his voice was firm but choked with tears. “I love you, only you. There will never be another woman I want to love. I don’t see my future with anyone else but you.”

His words made your already weak heart ache. You wanted to stay. You wanted a lifetime with him. You imagined growing old together, waking up in his arms every morning, sharing laughter, love, and the simple joys of life. But fate had different plans.

You let out a soft, broken sigh. “I-I’m tired…”

Jungkook shook his head frantically. “No! No, you’ll be fine. The ambulance is on the way, baby. Stay awake, you’re going to be okay!” he rocked you slightly, as if the motion would keep you conscious, keep you grounded to this world.

But you gave him a small, sad smile. “J-Jungkook…h-honey, you know t-that’s not true…”

He wanted to argue. He wanted to scream at the universe for being so cruel, but your voice was growing fainter, and your eyes were fluttering as if you were already halfway between this world and the next.

“You r-really were the b-best t-thing that h-has ever h-happened to m-me…�� you whispered. The weight of those words was breaking him more and more. He let out a heart-wrenching sob. He had never felt so helpless in his life.

“I w-wish I was able to s-stay with you f-forever…”

Jungkook’s cries grew louder, echoing through the empty hallways, and his entire body shuddered as he held you. “No, no, please don’t do this to me. Stay with me. Just a little longer, baby. Please!”

You forced yourself to gather the last of your strength to use your fingers and brush them against his cheek. You wanted to memorise him one last time — the warmth of his skin, the love in his eyes, even the pain he carried for you.

“I-I l-love y-you…” you gasped out.

Jungkook’s entire world came crashing down. His body shook as he let out a broken wail, pressing his forehead against yours.

At that moment, he knew. He had to let you go.

He had to watch the love of his life slip away, leaving him in a world that suddenly felt far too empty, far too cold. No matter how badly he wanted to fight for you, to keep you by his side, it was too late.

The least he could do was let you go and allow you to rest forever in peace. His hands continued to tremble as he held you close. His vision was blurred by the endless stream of tears that refused to stop falling. He knew this was inevitable. He knew there was nothing more he could do to save you. And yet, the weight of reality crushed him.

“I love you too princess,” he sobbed. His fingers gently traced your pale face.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled weakly. Every word you spoke felt like a dagger to his chest, twisting deeper and bluntly, leaving wounds that would never heal.

“Shh, there’s no reason for you to be sorry my love,” he whispered, his voice breaking as he pulled you closer, desperate to feel the warmth that was already fading from your body.

He leaned down and pressed one final, lingering kiss to your lips. It was soft, tender, and filled with all the love he could no longer express with words. You managed a small smile, tasting him one last time before your eyes fluttered shut, and the darkness swallowed you whole forever.

For a moment, there was silence. An eerie hush that made everything feel unreal. But when Jungkook felt your body go limp in his arms, when your hand slipped from his grip and fell lifelessly to the side, the world collapsed.

“No,” he gasped, his eyes wide with horror. “No, no, no — please!”

A heart-wrenching scream tore from his throat that resonated throughout the house like a ghostly wail of pain. The sound was raw and unfiltered, a cry so broken that it sent chills down the spines of those who heard it. With their leader's agony echoing louder than any gunshot they had ever heard, his men, who were positioned throughout the house, recoiled at the sound.

As though cradling you closer would somehow make you come back to life, Jungkook held on to your lifeless body, his fingers pressing into your flesh. His whole body rattled as he sobbed hysterically while burying his face in the crook of your neck. His lungs burned, his chest hurt, and he felt as though his sorrow was drowning him.

How was he supposed to live without you? How was he supposed to go on knowing that the only thing that made life worth living had been ripped away from him? You were his light in his dark life, his happiness, the only thing that kept him sane in this merciless world. And now, you were gone.

And someone was going to pay for it.

His hands trembled as he reached his hand to lightly, almost reverently, caress your cold cheek. His anguish turned into something more sinister, something lethal, and his jaw tightened.

“I will make them pay baby, I swear” he murmured, his voice hoarse, filled with quiet fury. “I will not spare them.”

He heard a rustling sound from behind that made his body stiffen. They were light footsteps. A presence. And he recognised it before he even turned around.

“Jungkook.” It was gentle, but hesitant.

Jungkook turned his head slowly, his tear-streaked face contorted in anguish once again. Mingyu stood a short distance away with his eyes reflecting their sorrow of watching his friend's broken state and his face brimming with grief.

“H-Hyung,” Jungkook stammered, his lips quivering, his entire body shaking. His throat was tight, as if words would never come out properly again.

Mingyu approached him cautiously, moving slowly and mindfully so as not to disturb him in his vulnerable position. With a mournful heart from the unimaginable scene in front of him, he knelt next to Jungkook and lowered himself to his level.

With his body jerking with sobs, Jungkook held onto Mingyu like an aid and leaned against his chest. He was shaking, his pain so overwhelming that it consumed him entirely.

“S-She’s g-gone Mingyu,” Jungkook choked out. “They killed her.”

Mingyu shut his eyes for a moment, letting the weight of Jungkook’s grief settle in his chest. He saw Jungkook in many states before — angry, ruthless, untouchable — but never like this. Never so utterly shattered.

“I’m sorry, Jungkook,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. It was all he could say, all he could offer, knowing that no words would ever be enough.

Jungkook’s cries filled the large empty space, his body curling into itself as he mourned the love of his life. And amidst his heartbreak, amidst the unbearable grief that threatened to consume him, there was one thing he knew for certain.

He would not rest until the people responsible for this paid the price in blood.

“S-She was crying…she was so s-scared…but I was too l-late,” he choked out, his breath hitching with every word. “I f-failed. I failed to keep the p-promise I made to her, I f-failed to protect her.”

His hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms as if the pain would wake him from this nightmare. But this was real. Too real.

“She h-hated all this… she h-hated guns and v-violence because it s-scared her.” His body convulsed with another sob, his shoulders shaking as he struggled to continue. “S-She was s-scared to die.”

Mingyu watched helplessly as Jungkook completely broke before him. He never saw him like this — not even in their darkest moments, not even in the bloodiest wars they fought together. Jungkook had always been the strongest among them, the one who never let his emotions show, the one who kept his heart guarded behind walls of steel.

But now, those walls crumbled. He was no longer the ruthless, fearless leader Mingyu knew. He was just a broken man, holding onto the only person who had ever made him feel whole.

“B-But she still chose to s-stay with me,” Jungkook continued. “And I p-promised to protect her.” His grip on your lifeless body tightened.

“But I f-failed her…I was too l-late.” His words ended in a heartbreaking wail as he buried his face into your shoulder.

Mingyu felt his own heart break at the sight. The room was filled with Jungkook’s agonising cries that echoed off the walls. No one, not even Mingyu himself, had ever seen him cry like this before. The man who was feared by so many, the one who stood unshaken in the face of death, was now completely undone.

When his eyes traveled to your body, his breath hitched. The sight of the bullet wounds on your abdomen made his stomach churn. The blood that had soaked through your clothes, staining Jungkook’s hands as he held you, was a reminder of the brutality of it all.

Mingyu swallowed hard, knowing that once Jungkook moved past his grief, all that would remain was rage. And that was what terrified him. The moment Jungkook decided to go rogue, there would be no stopping him.

He stayed with him for what felt like an eternity, allowing Jungkook to cry until his sobs dulled into quiet whimpers, his tears still flowing freely. Even as the silence grew heavier between them, Jungkook refused to let go of you. His arms remained wrapped around you, his face still pressed against your cold skin, unwilling to accept that you were no longer breathing.

Then, finally, his voice returned — hoarse and cold.

“Call Namjoon,” he ordered, his voice still as a whisper but there was authority. “And get—” his throat constricted as he forced himself to swallow the lump forming there. His eyes that were swollen and bloodshot, flickered back to your body as his fingers brushed over your face gently.

“Get her body to the hospital” his voice cracked on the last word, clenching his jaw to try to hold himself together. But Mingyu could see it — the war waging inside him, the battle between grief and fury, between the part of him that wanted to fall apart and the part that demanded vengeance.

Mingyu hesitated for a moment. But then he nodded, knowing there was nothing he could say to ease Jungkook’s pain. He pulled out his phone and dialled Namjoon.

As he spoke, he glanced back at Jungkook, who still didn’t move. He remained frozen, clutching you tightly, as if he could somehow bring you back to life if he just held you close enough. His lips were trembling still, while his breathing remained uneven, but there was something else in his expression now.

A destructive storm was brewing inside him.

Mingyu had seen Jungkook angry before. He had seen him furious, livid, merciless. But this? This was different. This was something deeper, darker. This wasn’t just anger.

This was war. On everything and anything that came his way.

Each time Jungkook looked at the bullet holes in your abdomen, his fury only grew hotter. His breathing turned heavier, his fists clenched tighter, his entire body coiled like a predator ready to strike. Things were going to be a bloody mess after this. And Jungkook would make sure of it.

When Namjoon and the others eventually showed up, the air was heavy with melancholy and tension.

Their footsteps grew heavy as they took in the tragic sight in front of them, and their faces turned grim. As if he couldn't let go, Jungkook remained kneeling on the ground with his arms encircling your limp body and his face pressed against your cold skin. In an instant, his entire world had fallen apart, and he was unsure of how to put himself back together.

Namjoon approached the man carefully, and his usual composed demeanor faltered as he watched the agony in Jungkook’s bloodshot eyes. He placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and squeezed lightly. “Jungkook,” he murmured.

Jungkook inhaled shakily, his chest rising and falling unevenly. He didn’t look up, didn’t acknowledge the others standing around him. Instead, he leaned down, pressing one last, lingering kiss on your forehead, and then your pale chapped lips.

“I love you,” he whispered. “Things won’t be the same without you…but I promise I will learn to live. For you.” A tear slipped down his cheek, landing on yours.

Then, as if something inside him had snapped, he finally released you. His body felt heavier than ever as he let Namjoon and the others take you from his arms. The absence of your warmth sent a sharp pain through his chest, but he forced himself to sit still as his eyes fixated on the blood staining his hands. Your blood.

His fingers twitched before slowly curling into a tight fist. His breathing grew steadier, but the warmth that once filled his eyes was gone, replaced by something darker. When he finally rose to his feet, there was no trace of the broken man who had been sobbing moments ago.

Instead, there stood a man prepared for a blood smearing war.

His voice was low and cold, void of all the emotions that had consumed him before. “Call up everyone. Everyone with their weapons. Meet me at the main base,” he commanded, his tone sharp as a blade.

His gaze shifted towards Mingyu, who flinched slightly at the newfound steel in his voice. “Tell the boys at the abandoned warehouse to finish off those bastards and get to the base immediately” there was no hesitation, no room for argument. This was an order.

“We’re gonna end this bastard and his gang once and for all” his words dripped with venom, his jaw clenched so tightly that the veins in his neck were visible. The pure hatred radiating off him sent chills down Mingyu’s spine.

Jungkook bent down and picked up his gun, his fingers gripping the cold metal as if it was the only thing anchoring him. Without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the house, his movements fueled by vengeance.

Mingyu remained frozen in place, his throat dry as he swallowed hard. He knew things were about to get very, very ugly. Jungkook wasn’t just seeking revenge — he was out for blood, and nothing was going to stop him.

Your death had left a scar so deep that even wiping out an entire gang wouldn’t be enough to heal it. No amount of bloodshed would bring you back. But even knowing that, Jungkook was willing to burn everything down to make them pay.

And Mingyu knew that once the battle started, there would be no stopping him.

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multiversediaries · 1 day ago

Text

MORE THAN FRIENDS

⤷ FRANK CASTLE X READER

Summary: After overhearing a conversation between Matt and Karen, you find comfort in the arms of the big, bad Punisher.

Warnings: mentions of cheating, small angst, soft, and i mean, VERY soft frank

Part count: 1/?

A/N: i loved, loved, LOVED! writing this!!!!! i hope u guys like it as much as i do ^-^ apologies for any mistakes! english is not my first language!

“Why aren’t you listening to me?” You heard Matt’s voice from outside of their office. You had just came back into the office, after looking more into a few cases you were all working on. You were eager to share the information you acquired to both your boyfriend, Matt, and Foggy.

“You are in a relationship, Matthew. This is insane.” Karen soon spoke up. You raised your ears in curiosity. Were they talking about you? You leaned into the door, trying to listen into their conversation.

You have been in a loving relationship with Matt for about two years now. You met him while working at his law firm, and ultimately fell for him. Who wouldn’t? Matt is a dream come true. It didn’t make you uncomfortable to know that his ex girlfriend, Karen, also worked along side Matt, since you knew he loved you. He reminded you every single day of how much he loved and appreciated you. He never gave you a reason to doubt him.

“Y/N? God, Karen. Can’t you see? She means nothing— not next to you.” Matt said, your heart sinking at his words. No, this isn’t the Matt you knew. The Matt you knew and fell in love with would never speak of you like this. No.. he loved you. He told you every day.

He loved you… right?

“You don’t mean that, Matt.” Karen replied softly. You could sense pity in her voice for you.

“Y/N… she’s lovely. She really is— she’s so good to me, but she’s not you. She will never be you.”

You heard Karen reply, but you weren’t paying attention anymore. You bit your bottom lip, hiding your silent cries, and shuttering breaths. You started to walk away from the office, not daring to even look back. You were grateful it was usually noisy around the office during that time, so Matt wouldn’t have been able to hear you.

You stood in the middle of the sidewalk, finally allowing yourself to hurt. Tears streamed down your face, painful sobs leaving your throat. The stares of people didn’t matter to you. How could he? How could you have been so naive? It was all too good to be true, and you knew this. You knew it was, yet you brushed it off. Just thinking this was the universe finally letting you be happy, for once. How naive.

You walked around the streets of Hell’s Kitchen. not having a place to go. You shared the apartment with Matt. You couldn’t go to Karen, or Foggy. Gosh, where were you going to sleep for tonight? Those were the only people you truly trusted and knew. You didn’t have any family left in Hell’s Kitchen. No one.

As you walked around town, flashbacks kept replaying in your head. Walking past that italian restaurant Matt loved so much, the small bar Matt liked playing pool in, the park Matt loved taking walks with you at, everything reminded you of him. You closed your eyes in defeat, as you felt small rain drops fall on your skin.

Just what you needed.

But even then, it was comforting. You always liked how the city looked during rainy nights. It brought you peace and now, consolation. You walked around the streets you loved so much, an emotionless expression in your face. You felt empty. You felt so pathetic, and like you had wasted two years of your life. Two years of nothing but what you thought was happiness and love. But it was just a fantasy. A delusion. Fiction. It just wasn’t real, nothing was real. You weren’t Karen. You didn’t have as much history with Matt as Karen did. You just weren’t her.

While you continued to walk, your tears now hidden in the rain, giving you the freedom to let go, to cry as much as you pleased, you heard a name you hadn’t heard in a while.

The Punisher.

Frank Castle. The man who once saved your life. The man who seemed to care so deeply about you. A long lost friend. You lost communication with him a few months ago. It was nothing new, Frank traveled a lot, he never truly stayed at one place for too long. You didn’t know he was back, as he hadn’t told you. He’d always find a way to contact you, to let you know he was alive and well. Most of the times, he simply got you flowers. He knew how much you liked them. So he wanted to be associated with something you liked so much.

You soon found yourself at his front door. Terrified he wouldn’t be home. After composing yourself, or at least trying to, you knocked twice on his door. You bit your lip, looking down anxiously.

Please be home, Frank. Please.

After a few minutes of silence, that sense of hope inside of you started to die down. He wasn’t home. Of course he wasn’t home. You let out a breathy chuckle, shaking your head. Again, how fucking naive. You wiped your teary, swollen eyes, and turned around on your heels, starting to walk away from his door. You began thinking of where you could spend the night. If anything, you could wait under they all leave the office, and you could sleep there.

“Y/N?” You heard a deep, raspy voice call out behind you, interrupting your thoughts. You could have sworn your heart stopped. You turned around slowly, finding Frank.

“You’re home…” You managed to whisper, earning a cautious nod from Frank.

“Everything okay, doll? What’s goin’ on?” Frank asked, his eyes scanning you, looking for any injuries on you. His expression softening at the sight of a broken you.

You opened your mouth to speak, yet nothing came out. You faked a smile, wiping your eyes once again. Frank’s heart tightened. He slowly began making his way to you. Your smile soon turned into a frown, small sobs leaving your lips. You couldn’t stop yourself from breaking down in front of him. Loud, and sore wails filling the hall you both were standing on.

Frank didn’t say a word either, he only embraced you into a tight hug. His strong arms stroking your back lovingly, as he held you together, knowing that if he let go, you’d fall apart right in front of him. Once he noticed your cries had calmed down, he finally spoke up.

“Let’s change you out of these wet clothes.” He spoke lightly, guiding you into his apartment. He closed the door behind him, leading you into the bathroom. He brought some of his clothes for you, and a towel.

“Take a warm bath, and then we’ll talk if you want to, alright?” Frank said, before offering you a small, pitiful grin, and closing the door. You took off the damped clothes and jumped into the shower, instantly relaxing as soon as the hot water touched your cold skin.

Frank could hear your whimpers and cries from his living room, where he impatiently waited for you. He had never seen you like this. His heart felt heavy while looking into your blood red, swollen eyes, your quivering lips and broken expression. He sighed harshly, remembering how cold you felt when he held you into his arms, how much you were shaking. He quickly stood up, gathering warm blankets for you. He also prepared warm chocolate for you, your favorite kind, in hopes of lifting your spirits, even if it’s just a little.

He must have gotten too caught up in trying to make you feel comfortable, that he didn’t notice you. You stood by the counter of his kitchen, wearing one of his t-shirts and long pants, which were most definitely a little big on you. He smiled just a bit, once he locked eyes with you. You returned the kind smile, watching him as he poured the hot chocolate into a cup for you.

Soon, your eyes drifted to a flower arrangement, carefully sitting by the end of the counter you were leaning on. You sighed quietly, in relief.

“Those are yours, sweetheart. Was gonna have them delivered to you tomorrow, or somethin’.” Frank said, handing the cup to you. You smiled, genuinely this time. Of course he was going to. How dare you doubt him? He cares about you. Truthfully. You brought the cup to your lips, softly blowing it, before drinking from it.

“See, I just didn’t know where to send ‘em to.” Frank continued, looking at the flowers he got for you. Tulips. “Didn’t know you moved in with Matt.” He said. You sighed at the mention of his name, a frown appearing once again.

“Yeah, well. Definitely don’t send them there.” You replied, so soft it was almost a whisper. Frank nodded, not wanting to push you. He didn’t want to pressure you into telling him anything.

“Are you alright, doll? Talk to me.” Frank said, as softly and tenderly as possible. You sighed shakily, recalling what you heard. Frank bit the insides of his mouth. “Let’s go sit, okay?” He offered, a hand lightly on your waist, leading you to his living room. Frank sat across from you, giving you all the space you needed. You looked down at the cup in your hands, trying to find the right words.

“It’s Matt, he—”

“Did he hurt you?”

“No! Of course not— I mean, yeah? Kind of?” You replied, placing the cup down on the coffee table in front of you, before your hands ran to caress your temples in frustration.

“I’m sorry.” Frank said after taking a deep breath. “Didn’t meant to interrupt ya.” He finished, his eyes never leaving yours. Your heart almost melted. Frank has always been this kind, this attentive.

“It’s fine, Frank. It’s just—” You continued, running a hand through your damped hair, trying to find the best way to explain your situation. “I don’t even know how to explain it, he just— he just doesn’t love me.”

“What?” Frank asked, truly baffled at your words. Because how can anybody not adore you?

“I heard him speaking to Karen. And he told her I was nothing compared to her, and that he only wanted her.” You continued, your voice breaking. “He doesn’t love me, Frank. Simply because I’m not her.” You finished, your head dropped in embarrassment and hurt. You held back your wails, yet there was not point in stopping the tears that now ran down your face. You heard Frank sigh.

After a few minutes of nothing but your silent cries, Frank had now moved to sit next to you, an arm wrapped around you, as you cried into his chest. His fingers traced circles on your skin, attempting to comfort you as much as he possibly could. A few more minutes passed, yet Frank hadn’t said a word.

“Why haven’t you said anything?” You finally spoke up, your voice sore and tired from all the crying. Frank shrugged his shoulders, looking down at you.

“Just can’t understand how anyone would want anybody else but you.” Frank said, his eyebrows furrowed in utter confusion. He was dumbfounded. “You’re it for me, sweetheart.” Frank continued, his face showing utter bewilderment.

“Didn’t know Red could be so goddamn stupid.” Frank said, looking down to stare into your eyes. Your eyes glassy and overflowing with tears. He sighed, his rough fingers wiping away the small teardrops on your cheeks.

“I’m sorry I can’t comfort ‘ya any better, I’m just bamboozled.” Frank confessed, making a small giggle leave your mouth. He offered you a small grin.

“Don’t you dare doubt yourself ‘cause of him. You know your worth and how fucking amazing you are— he’s missing out on you, pretty girl.” Frank continued, his rough hand felt warm and even soft against your skin. You bit your lip, killer butterflies filling your stomach while you heard Frank speak so softly and lovingly to you.

“I just don’t understand— if it were me, I would’ve put a ring on your finger ages ago. Fuck, I would’ve made you a mom by now.” Frank rambled on, your eyes softly widening at his sudden confession. Frank seemed to realized what he said, since he quickly looked into your eyes in panic.

“I mean— I would’ve never exchanged you for anyone or anything. I’m telling ‘ya, you’re it for me.” Frank finished, his hand leaving your cheek. You frowned at the loss of his warmth.

“You should be exhausted, go to sleep, alright? We’ll talk more in the morning.” Frank said softly, before planting a tender kiss to your forehead. You nodded, mostly speechless by what just happened. You made your way to then vacant room Frank had offered you, looking back once in a while, locking eyes with Frank. You smiled timidly, before walking into the room, and closing the door behind you.

“‘I would’ve made you a mom.’ ‘The fuck were you thinking?” Frank cursed under his breath, cleaning up his living room. His eyes going going over to the room you were sleeping at, wondering if you needed anything, and most importantly, if you were okay.

Inside, a smile had formed in your lips, remembering the words Frank had said to you. You couldn’t help the obvious attraction and love you felt towards him, from the very first day you met him. Matt hated Frank, probably because of how fondly you spoke of him and how excited you used to get when a bucket of flowers would get delivered to you. You used to reassure Matt to not worry about Frank, that you two were just friends.

But were you?

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casedclosedbye · 2 days ago

Text

Closer

Spencer reid x reader oneshot fluff

Wc: 1k

Summary: You say across from spencer when you usually sit beside him during dates

It had been a long week for Spencer Reid. The BAU had been running nonstop, cases back-to-back, with barely a moment to breathe. But now, as the weekend arrived, it was time for his favorite part of the week—his date with you.

It was a tradition at this point. Every Friday, you’d both go to that quiet little cafe downtown, the one with the cozy booths and the scent of freshly brewed coffee in the air. Spencer loved those moments. Not for the food—though he did enjoy it—but for the time he got to spend with you, the person he cherished more than anything else in the world.

You had been dating for a while now, and the routine was simple. He would always sit beside you in the booth, his long fingers gently wrapped around yours as he talked about his day. It was always the same, and yet, every time felt like a new adventure in itself, hearing him speak with that curious excitement about the latest case or random facts he’d picked up from his research. It was comforting, familiar, and perfect.

But tonight was different.

You sat down across from him, without thinking much about it. You were still adjusting your jacket when you took your seat, completely unaware of how it made Spencer feel.

At first, he didn’t say anything. He just smiled that warm, shy smile of his, his eyes flickering down at the table before glancing up at you. The conversation began like it always did, about a case he had been working on, but it felt... distant.

The space between you felt strange, like a gap he didn’t know how to bridge.

You didn’t notice anything was off, but Spencer was growing increasingly uncomfortable. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to you; it was that he *did*—he always did—but something felt wrong when you weren’t sitting beside him. He was used to the closeness, the soft weight of your hand in his. He craved it, needed it even.

He tried to focus on his words, explaining a complex case, but his mind kept wandering. He wanted to reach across the table and hold your hand, feel your fingers intertwining with his, but it felt... wrong, in a way. It felt like a boundary had been drawn without him meaning for it to happen.

His leg bounced under the table, a nervous habit he’d developed when he was agitated, but tonight it seemed worse. He looked up at you, seeing the concerned, attentive look in your eyes as you listened to him. You were there, your focus entirely on him, but the physical space between you was heavier than he’d expected.

You tilted your head slightly. “Spence, is everything okay? You seem… a little distracted.”

He blinked, snapping out of his internal spiral. “Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry, I’m fine. Just... thinking.”

There was a beat of silence, and then, without really thinking, you reached for the salt shaker on the table. You were only inches from his hand, but it felt like miles. You didn’t notice the way his eyes followed your movements, how his hand clenched slightly by his side.

“I didn’t realize,” he began, his voice softer than usual, “but... I... um, I usually sit next to you.”

Your eyebrows furrowed slightly in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Spencer shifted in his seat, his fingers tapping against the edge of his glass, and he struggled to find the right words. “I mean, usually, we... sit next to each other. And I just... feel closer to you that way.”

You blinked, the realization dawning on you, and you smiled softly, feeling the tiniest flicker of guilt in your chest. “Oh, Spence. I’m sorry, I didn’t even think about it.”

He shrugged a little, not wanting to make a big deal out of it, but his cheeks flushed just a hint. “It’s okay, it’s just... I didn’t realize how much I missed it until now.” He hesitated, his eyes glancing at your hand, almost like he was afraid to ask. “I guess... I like being close to you. Even if I’m a little... um, well, a bit of a germaphobe, sometimes.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his words. Spencer’s vulnerability was one of the things you loved most about him. He was so incredibly intelligent, yet sometimes he had this shy, almost childlike way of revealing his true feelings.

Slowly, you slid your chair closer, closing the gap between the two of you, until your knees touched. The simple gesture made Spencer's face brighten, and he relaxed almost immediately, his breath catching in a small, relieved sigh.

“There,” you said softly, your voice low, warm. “Better?”

Spencer looked at you with wide, grateful eyes, his smile blooming like spring after a long winter. “Much better.”

Without another word, you reached across the table, gently taking his hand in yours. The warmth of his skin against yours felt like coming home, and Spencer’s fingers curled around yours with a quiet, satisfied sigh.

“I like this,” he said quietly, looking down at your joined hands.

“Me too,” you agreed, feeling the sense of contentment that only Spencer could give you. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize.”

He shook his head, his smile never faltering. “You don’t have to apologize. I just wanted to be close to you. And... I guess I didn’t know how to ask.”

You squeezed his hand, leaning in just a little closer. “Next time, I’ll make sure to sit next to you.”

Spencer grinned, his eyes twinkling with that familiar spark. “Next time?”

“Yeah,” you said, with a playful glint in your eyes. “I think I could get used to the fact that you’re a little possessive of our personal space.”

Spencer’s laughter filled the space between you, a soft, genuine sound that made your heart swell. It was moments like these that reminded you just how much you adored him. Even in his quirks, even in his need for closeness, Spencer was exactly what you needed.

As the night continued, you both sat side by side, hands firmly entwined, and for once, the world felt like it had stopped moving, just for the two of you.

The space between you was gone, and you were exactly where you were meant to be—close enough.

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gpcwsl · 3 days ago

Note

Leah x Alessia please! could be when alessia moved to arsenal and moves in with leah. become best friends/roommates and then falls in love!

Alessia Russo x Leah Williamson

Undeniable

WC: 2.1k+

MasterList

Warnings: kissing, making out, suggestive.

I am not shipping theses two in anyway. This is a fan fiction. This is fake. To be honest, I felt a little weary writing this.

Song: Cherry - harry styles

Alessia Russo had always known that change was inevitable in football. It was part of the job—new teams, new cities, new teammates. But this move felt different. Leaving Manchester United had been bittersweet, but Arsenal offered her something she couldn’t ignore: a chance to grow, to push herself further, to be part of something special. And, perhaps most importantly, she wasn’t doing it alone.

Leah Williamson had immediately offered her a place to stay until she found her own. “No point in wasting money on a hotel,” she’d said casually over the phone. “Besides, we’ll have a laugh.”

And she was right. From the moment Alessia had walked through Leah’s front door, it had felt right. Like home.

Meeting the Team

Alessia had expected some nerves on her first day at Arsenal, but they faded the second she stepped into the training ground.

Jonas Eidevall had barely finished introducing her before Katie McCabe strode up, a teasing grin on her face. “Welcome to the dark side, Russo.” She pulled her into a half-hug, clapping her on the back. “Been waiting for you to see sense.”

Caitlin Foord was next, offering a warm smile and a fist bump. “You’ll love it here. Just be ready for Katie’s chaos.”

“I resent that,” Katie shot back, but the sparkle in her eyes suggested otherwise.

The rest of the team was just as welcoming. Frida Maanum looped an arm around Alessia’s shoulders like they’d been teammates for years. “Finally, someone to help us score more screamers,” she joked.

Beth Mead, recovering from injury but still very much the heart of the team, gave her a knowing smirk. “Leah’s been talking you up, by the way. Said you’d fit in easy.”

Alessia glanced at Leah, who just shrugged, a small smile playing at her lips.

And it turned out, Leah was right.

Living with Leah was effortless. They trained together, cooked together (or attempted to, in Alessia’s case), and spent their evenings either watching matches or arguing over which show to binge. Leah knew exactly how to make her laugh, how to take the edge off when the pressure of a new club threatened to settle on her shoulders.

It was impossible not to feel close to her.

Then came the realisation.

The living room was a mess. Empty pizza boxes sat haphazardly on the table, a couple of half-finished slices abandoned on grease-stained plates. Two glasses of Coke rested on the floor beside the couch, condensation dripping down the sides. The TV was playing some film neither of them had really been watching, its glow flickering across the dimly lit room.

Alessia let out a small shiver. She hadn’t noticed how cold it had gotten until now.

Leah noticed immediately. She didn’t hesitate—just reached out and wrapped an arm around Alessia’s shoulders, pulling her in. “Come here,” she murmured, voice low and familiar.

Alessia didn’t resist. She leaned into her without thinking, settling against Leah’s side, her head resting just below her collarbone.

And that’s when it hit them.

For Leah, it was the way Alessia fit against her, the way she naturally sought her warmth. The way her blonde hair fell over her shoulder, the soft scent of shampoo and something inherently Alessia curling around her senses. The way her breath was steady, content, like this was exactly where she was meant to be.

For Alessia, it was the strength in Leah’s arms, the way they held her without question. The way her heartbeat was calm and steady beneath her cheek. The way Leah made her feel safe. Wanted. The way she just felt right.

Neither of them said anything.

They didn’t need to.

Because in that moment, with the world quiet around them, they both knew. They were falling. And there was no stopping it now.

The movie had long since ended, but neither of them had moved.

Alessia was still wrapped up against Leah, her body curled into the warmth beside her. At some point, Leah had pulled a blanket over them, the soft fabric draped across their legs, trapping in the heat. The only sounds in the room were the quiet hum of the TV, now playing the looping menu screen, and their steady breathing in the low-lit space.

Leah felt like she was floating.

She’d stopped pretending hours ago—pretending that this was just friendship, that the way her chest ached in the best way when Alessia sighed against her was normal, that the warmth spreading through her ribs wasn’t something more. No, she wasn’t denying it anymore. She was falling. Completely.

She nudged Alessia gently, her voice hushed in the stillness. “Come on, Less. Let’s head to bed.”

A sleepy mumble. “Mmm… my legs are broken.”

Leah huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “Are they now?”

“Mhm.” Alessia burrowed closer. “You need to carry me.”

Leah bit down on the inside of her cheek, trying to steady the sudden thrum in her chest. She’s going to be the death of me.

Alessia had no idea what she was doing to her. Or maybe she did. Maybe she felt it too—the weight of whatever was settling between them, the way it pressed into the space where there had only been friendship before.

Still, Leah didn’t argue.

With careful movements, she shifted, looping one arm under Alessia’s legs, the other around her back. She lifted her effortlessly, feeling the way Alessia melted into her touch, arms draping lazily around her neck.

Leah swallowed, forcing herself to focus as she carried her up the stairs. The house was quiet, dark except for the faint golden glow of the hallway light. The warmth of Alessia in her arms, the slow rise and fall of her breath against Leah’s shoulder—it was intoxicating.

She stepped into Alessia’s bedroom, the sheets slightly messy from where they’d hastily thrown things together when she moved in. Gently, Leah placed her down, the mattress dipping beneath her weight.

Alessia exhaled a soft sound of contentment as Leah tucked the blanket around her, the warmth settling in immediately. Leah went to step away, but before she could turn, a hand wrapped around her wrist.

Leah froze.

Alessia’s fingers were soft against her skin, hesitant but sure. She didn’t say anything at first—just held on, her touch lingering, tethering Leah in place.

Then, quietly, hopefully—

“Stay?”

Leah felt her breath catch.

It wasn’t just about warmth. It wasn’t just about company.

It was about her. About them.

Her heart hammered against her ribs as she looked down at Alessia, meeting tired blue eyes that held something deeper, something unspoken but undeniably there.

Leah didn’t answer with words. She didn’t need to. Instead, she exhaled slowly, slipped beneath the covers, and let Alessia curl into her once more.

This time, she held her a little tighter.

This time, she let herself fall.

The next day passed in a blur.

Leah had spent training trying—and failing—to keep herself together. It wasn’t easy when Alessia was everywhere. Laughing with the team, scoring goal after goal in small-sided drills, playfully shoving Leah when she beat her in a rondo.

And every time their eyes met, something stirred.

Something Leah couldn’t ignore anymore.

She knew she was gone. Completely, helplessly gone. And if she wasn’t wrong—if the way Alessia lingered just a little too long, touched her just a little too often, looked at her like she was something worth falling for—then Alessia felt it too.

Leah just needed to be brave.

The changing room had emptied out slowly, the team trickling out one by one. Eventually, it was just them—Leah and Alessia, alone in the quiet hum of fluorescent lights and distant chatter from the corridor.

Alessia sat on the bench, tying her shoelaces with slow, deliberate movements. Leah stood a few feet away, pretending to rummage through her locker, pretending she wasn’t absolutely buzzing with everything she needed to say.

Now or never.

She turned, leaning against the row of lockers. “Less.”

Alessia looked up, tucking a strand of damp blonde hair behind her ear. “Yeah?”

Leah’s throat felt dry, but she forced the words out. “I can’t do this anymore.”

A small frown creased Alessia’s forehead. “Do what?”

Leah exhaled sharply, pushing off the locker and stepping closer. “Pretend. Act like this is nothing. Like I don’t feel something every time you look at me. Like last night wasn’t—” She broke off, running a hand through her hair. “Like I didn’t want to kiss you the second you asked me to stay.”

The silence stretched.

Then, quietly—almost dangerously—Alessia asked, “Then why didn’t you?”

Leah’s breath hitched.

She held Alessia’s gaze, searching, waiting, pleading for something—anything—that told her she wasn’t about to ruin everything.

And then, Alessia smirked. Just a little. Just enough.

That was all Leah needed.

She moved before she could overthink it—one step, then another, until she was right there, standing between Alessia’s knees.

Alessia tilted her chin up, blue eyes burning into Leah’s, waiting.

Leah reached out, fingers grazing over Alessia’s jaw, tracing lightly, teasingly, before she finally, finally closed the distance.

The first touch was tentative—soft, testing—but Alessia didn’t hesitate. She leaned into it, pressing forward, her hands finding Leah’s waist, pulling her in.

Then it shifted.

Leah deepened the kiss, tilting her head, fingers sliding into damp hair, gripping just enough. Alessia made a small noise against her lips, and Leah felt it everywhere.

Her heart was racing.

Alessia’s hands tightened, tugging her closer, nails scraping lightly against Leah’s skin where her shirt had ridden up. It sent a sharp thrill down Leah’s spine, heat curling in her stomach.

She was done for.

Eventually—reluctantly—they pulled back, breathless, foreheads resting together.

Alessia was grinning. “Took you long enough.”

Leah let out a breathless laugh, nudging their noses together. “Shut up.”

Alessia just hummed, fingers tracing slow, lazy circles against Leah’s waist. “You’re not getting rid of me now, you know.”

Leah smiled, letting her hands rest at the base of Alessia’s neck, thumbs brushing over soft skin.

“I’m counting on it.”

Their first date wasn’t anything extravagant. No fancy restaurant, no grand gestures—just them, walking through the quiet streets of London, wrapped in the kind of warmth that had nothing to do with the cool night air.

Leah had insisted on taking Alessia to a small, tucked-away café she loved, one that stayed open late and had the best desserts. They’d shared a plate of warm brownies, teasing each other over who got the bigger bite. Alessia had spent half the time laughing, and Leah had spent all of it falling even harder.

And now, as they walked back home, hands brushing, shoulders bumping, Leah couldn’t stop staring.

Alessia looked stupidly good under the glow of the streetlights—blonde hair slightly tousled from the breeze, a soft flush on her cheeks, lips curved into a small smile.

Leah had been patient. She really had. But patience wasn’t exactly her strongest trait.

They reached the front door, and before Alessia could step inside, Leah caught her wrist, gently pulling her back.

Alessia turned, eyebrow raised, but before she could say anything, Leah leaned in.

The kiss started soft—slow and deliberate, like they had all the time in the world. Leah let her fingers trail along Alessia’s jaw, then slide into her hair, tilting her head just right.

Alessia made a quiet sound against her lips, one that sent a fire straight through Leah’s veins.

She pressed closer, deepening the kiss, teasing her tongue against Alessia’s bottom lip, pulling her in. Alessia melted, hands gripping Leah’s hips, nails grazing against skin where her shirt had lifted.

Leah groaned softly, pressing Alessia back against the door. Her lips moved to her jaw, then lower, grazing along the sensitive spot just beneath her ear. She felt Alessia shiver.

“Less,” Leah whispered, voice rough, breath warm against her skin.

Alessia hummed, tilting her head, giving Leah more access.

Leah smirked against her skin, pressing another slow, open-mouthed kiss to her neck before pulling back just enough to meet her gaze.

“Be my girlfriend.”

It wasn’t a question—it was a promise, a claim, a need.

Alessia let out a breathless laugh, running her fingers through Leah’s hair, tugging lightly. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Leah grinned, stealing another kiss.

Alessia gasped as Leah’s hands slid under the hem of her shirt, teasing fingers skimming over warm skin.

Leah smirked, her voice dropping lower. “You looked so hot tonight, Less.” She kissed her again, slow and teasing, letting her lips linger. “And I really wanna do stuff to you.”

Alessia exhaled shakily, fingers tightening in Leah’s hair. “Then stop talking.”

Leah didn’t need to be told twice.

She kissed her again, harder this time, pressing Alessia firmly against the door, hands roaming, breath mingling.

And as they stumbled inside, lips never breaking apart, Leah knew—

This was everything she’d ever wanted.

144 notes · View notes

mononijikayu · 1 day ago

Text

until i found you — ryomen sukuna.

"I figured you’d be into something more... aggressive music." you admitted, watching as he leaned back, arms crossed, listening intently. He scoffed. "What, you think I only listen to music that makes me wanna fight people?" "...Yes?" "Tch. Idiot." He turned his attention back to the music, tapping his fingers idly against his knee. "This one’s alright. But Tchaikovsky’s better." Your jaw dropped. "Wait, you like Tchaikovsky?" "Yeah? And what?" You shook your head in disbelief. "I just... I wouldn’t have guessed." "What, you think I don't have taste?" "I know you don’t have taste."

Genre: Alternate Universe — College! AU;

Warning/s: Short Fic, General Rating, AFAB! Reader, Use of She/Her, Use of Female Centered Identification, Pet Names (Babe, My Love, Etc), Romance, Fluff, Humour, Love, Comfort/No Hurt, Established Relationship, Lovers, Dating, Feeling, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Idiots In Love, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Teasing, Healthy Relationship, Friendships, Profanity, Swearing, Violence, Depiction of Violence, Mention of Violence, Volleyball Captain! Sukuna, Boyfriend! Sukuna, Girlfriend! Reader;

Words: 8.6k words.

Note: i'm so sorry for the delay on the satosugu fic, the time frame of my schedule is not allowing me to go and finish it. its going to be delayed. as my apology, please enjoy this litle thing from me. also, im opening commissions, so if you wanna commission me, look here!!! in any case, i love you all so much. see you soon <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

lovesick playlist

IT WAS NOT LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT LIKE EVERYONE THINKS IT IS. Not all love stories were meant to be that, after all. But it was interesting nonetheless that it was how you got to know about him for the first time.

The first thing you heard from where you stood was that rather brutish hit of impact. A dull, sickening thud followed by a sharp grunt of pain.

The loud and rowdy crowd that had gathered near the school gate was already thick by the time you arrived. At the back where you stood, their voices a mix of eager whispers and nervous gasps.

A fight wasn’t uncommon near the school, there were quite a lot of delinquents in your school. Even the teachers were wanting to stay clear of it. But the sheer energy in the air told you this wasn’t just any fight.

You pushed up on your toes trying to see above all these tall figures, craning your neck to see past the wall of uniformed backs. And that’s when you spotted him. Your eyes couldn’t help but widen at the sight you were seeing now.

That pink haired standing tall above that guy.

His name escaped you, but you’ve heard of him. His name carried weight even in places he had never stepped foot in. If anything, it brought chills to people’s spines. The goosebumps were always felt just at the mention of his name, just as much as fear echoes when you catch his darkened eyes. You’ve never seen him before, that was for sure. But you’ve heard of him. And he had quite the name.

This is what your friends were talking about. This is a delinquent in the purest sense—not the kind that smoked behind the gym and skipped class for fun, but the kind who sent people to the hospital and still walked away with that damned smirk on his face. And he was smirking now.

Even with the blood bellowing down on his lip, the brutally raw scrape on his knuckles ensuing through each punch, the loose tie hanging off his collar. You could tell he just really looked bored.

That had surprised you more than anything, if you were being honest. You thought that this would at least feel like a thrill for him. Violence usually feels like that. You would have thought a delinquent would feel that way.

Yet it was like he was toying with the guy in front of him, who was hunched over helplessly, clutching his ribs and struggling to breathe at the act of being beaten down by the fiend in front of him.

And still, it was the most uninteresting thing he’s ever found himself doing. This fuschia haired young boy seemed so bored at the prospect of this kid not being able to fight back, or be interesting.

“Oi.” Sukuna drawled, tilting his head as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You done already? That’s pathetic.”

The other guy barely managed to lift his head before the fuschia haired kid moved—fluid, effortless, the kind of speed that made it clear this wasn’t just some reckless brawl. His fist collided with the guy’s jaw, sending him staggering back into the school gate with a loud clang.

“I thought you’d have more fun fighting, huh? You were having so much fun staring at a girl’s skirt just a bit, weren’t you? Come on, you prick. Get up!”

Somewhere in the crowd, someone flinched.

Someone else muttered a curse under their breath.

And you—you just stared at what was happening in front of you.

It wasn’t just the violence that had you frozen. It was the way he carried himself, the sheer audacity in every motion. He wasn’t just winning. He was playing over and over again like it was a game, even if it wasn’t. Like a predator dragging out the inevitable just because he could. And he wanted to hunt, he wanted to eat the weak from down under his feet.

Then, his scarlet gaze lifted.

For a single, breathless second, your eyes met.

A slow, deliberate shift came about him. It was like he had known you were watching the entire time but only now decided to acknowledge it. The corner of his mouth curled upward, something dark and knowing twisting in his expression.

He had noticed you.

A strange heat crawled up your spine, a mix of adrenaline and unease. You weren’t sure what unnerved you more. The fact that he had seen you, or the fact that you couldn’t look away.

His gaze had been fleeting. It was just a flicker of recognition before he turned back to his opponent. Yet, the fight wasn’t over.

And for some reason, you got the feeling that this wouldn’t be the last time Ryomen Sukuna looked your way. The thought made something tighten in your chest. Then all that was left was a a sharp crack.

A dull, sickening thud as his beaten opponent hit the pavement, groaning in pain. You barely had time to process it as you held your breath, before someone beside you finally snapped out of their stunned daze.

“Someone there, please go and call the teachers to break up the fight!”

The voice jolted you back to reality. A murmur rippled through the crowd—some of the students were panicked, the others seemed to be too excited, some already pulling out their phones and calling help, some were taking a video.

But that pink haired kid?

He just laughed.

Low, rough, full of something almost thrilled as he rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck, like the fight had barely warmed him up. The poor bastard groaned, barely managing to lift his head before slumping back down.

“You done?” he asked, gaze dropping to the guy on the ground.

The pink haired kid merely scoffed, brushing dust off his uniform before turning away, completely unbothered. Then his gaze flickered up again. Right at you. It barely lasted only a second. But it was intentional. Like he was acknowledging you. Marking you.

And just like that, with teachers finally rushing onto the scene, that kid with the pink hair turned on his heel and walked off, slipping through the growing chaos like he hadn’t just left another name to fear in his wake. You exhaled, stomach tight, fingers curled into your sleeves.

You should forget this. Forget him.

But you knew—deep down, you wouldn’t.

And something told you that he wouldn’t, either.

══════════════════

YOU WERE SURE THAT THIS WAS GOING TO BE YOUR PEACEFUL TIME. After all, the school rooftop was supposed to be empty during lunch time. Lately, it has been your sanctuary after a long morning of back to back classes.

It was the one place you could escape to when the noise of everything became too much, when the dull routine of school felt suffocating. Up here, the wind was sharp, the air felt clearer, and for just a little while, you could be alone.

But today, someone else was here.

Someone wasn’t supposed to be there.

Yet you can tell someone up there from just the slit of the door.

You quickly noticed him the moment you stepped through the rooftop door. It was a figure sprawled across the concrete near the fence, arms behind his head, one knee bent, the other leg lazily extended.

Even before you fully registered who it was, your body tensed, instincts screaming at you to retreat. But then your eyes landed on his face, and your breath caught in your throat. That kid from the fight on the first day.

Wait, what the hell? You think to yourself almost panicked. Why is he here?

You tried to remember his name for a moment, racking your brain.

That’s right! You gasped quietly to yourself. It’s Ryomen. Ryomen Sukuna. That’s what his name was!

Even asleep, he looked like trouble. His uniform was rumpled, the first few buttons undone, his tie discarded somewhere beside him. A faint cut graced his cheekbone. It seems to be fresh, like he had gotten into another fight earlier but couldn’t be bothered to clean up before crashing here. He must have been exhausted from the fight.

You should leave. You really should. The last thing you needed was to get caught in his orbit. But the thought of giving up your quiet retreat made frustration coil in your stomach. So, with careful, measured steps, you sat down a few feet away, placing your lunch in your lap and making sure to keep your movements silent. Maybe—just maybe—if you were lucky, he wouldn’t wake up.

You weren’t lucky. It happened in an instant. A low breath, a subtle shift. Then, his scarlet eyes snapped open. A cold, sinking weight settled in your chest as your gaze locked with his.

It was the first time you had ever seen his eyes up close.

They weren’t just sharp, they were dangerous. It was like a blade that glinted under the light, beautiful in its lethality. There was no haze of sleep in them, no confusion. Just silent, unwavering awareness. A predator waking to find someone in its space. His gaze flicked over you, slow and deliberate, before settling back on your face.

“…...The hell are you staring at?” His voice was rough from sleep, low and edged with irritation.

You stiffened, fingers tightening around your chopsticks. Your brain scrambled for a response, something that wouldn’t make this worse. “…Nothing.”

His thick brow twitched. For a second, you thought he might call you out on your lie. But he seemed too tired to even care. Ryomen Sukuna let out a lazy scoff, stretching his arms over his head with a bone-popping crack before settling back down.

“Tch. Whatever.”

And just like that, he closed his eyes again.

You blinked. That was it?

No sneering remarks? No challenge?

The tension in your chest didn’t ease, but the kid didn’t seem to care about your presence anymore. Like you weren’t worth his energy. Like you were barely an afterthought.

The wind carried the distant sound of the school bell ringing in the distance, signaling the lunch break was halfway over. You forced yourself to exhale, slow and steady, before finally peeling open your lunch box.

Maybe, just maybe, you could still eat in peace.

But something told you this wasn’t the last time your paths would cross.

And that thought was far more unnerving than you wanted to admit.

You tried to ignore him.

Tried to focus on your lunch, on the way the wind ruffled your uniform, on the distant sounds of students laughing below. Anything but the fact that Ryomen Sukuna was still there, barely a few feet away, resting like he owned the entire rooftop.

But no matter how much you tried to tune him out from the background as you ate, the weight of his presence lingered. It was like a storm cloud on the horizon, waiting to crack open.

The silence just continued to stretch through the blowing winds. Then, you felt a shift. A quiet, subtle rustling of fabric as the fuschia haired kid turned his head slightly, cracking one eye open in your direction.

“You always eat up here?”

You faltered mid-bite. “Huh?”

His tone wasn’t particularly interested in what you were doing or why you were here, but the fact that he was speaking to you at all was… unsettling. Everything about this moment just felt too tense, it was making your stomach spin. A moment passed before you swallowed and forced yourself to respond.

“…Yeah.” You finally whispered back at him.

Sukuna made a low sound—half amusement, half acknowledgment. “Tch. Thought so. You don’t look like the type to sit with all the other idiots down there.”

You frowned, unsure whether that was supposed to be an insult or not. But he didn’t elaborate. Instead, he shifted onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow now, watching you with an unreadable expression. It made your skin prickle.

“…What?” you muttered, feeling the need to break the silence.

His smirk curled slow and lazy, like he was enjoying something only he understood. “Nothing.”

Liar. You think to yourself, gripping your chopsticks too hard. This kid…..

His scarlet gaze stayed on you for a second longer, then, without another word, he flopped back down, arms behind his head once more. A breeze passed between you, carrying the faint scent of metal and sweat. It was as though the remnants of whatever fight he had been in earlier bristles past you both.

You should have been relieved that he lost interest, that he wasn’t prying any further. But something about the way he had looked at you left an uneasy weight in your chest. As if, despite everything, despite the distance you had tried to keep. He had just decided you were interesting.

You tried to keep eating, but your appetite had taken a hit. Something about the way Ryomen Sukuna had looked at you unnerved you. It was that look, that lazy, knowing, look. It was like he had already decided something about you. And that had more than ever made it hard to focus on anything else.

The rooftop had always been your place.

It was your quiet retreat to begin with.

But now, with him here, it felt different.

Everything just felt like it was off-balance, occupied.

You stole a glance at him. He was still lying there, arms behind his head, eyes closed again like he hadn’t just made your skin crawl a moment ago. His breathing was steady, his expression unreadable, but you knew better than to think he wasn’t aware of everything around him.

He was too sharp for that. The last thing you wanted was to let him think he had you rattled, so you forced yourself to eat. One bite. Another. Just ignore him. You were going to finish with your meal soon enough.

You can go back and take a walk after this. You busied yourself with finishing the meal, letting the silence reign over. But the silence didn’t last long, as you would like to hope.

“So?”

You paused mid-chew, blinking. “What?”

Sukuna didn’t move. “How long are you gonna sit there pretending I don’t exist?”

You stiffened. His voice was laced with amusement, but there was something else underneath it. You couldn’t help but think that there was something unreadable in there. It was mysterious, it was a pandemonium you could never know escape from. It was like he remains that sphinx who wants your attention to solve his enigma.

“I’m not pretending about anything.” you muttered, keeping your gaze on your lunch.

“Yeah?” A soft chuckle, low and lazy. “Then why do you look so tense?”

Your chopsticks froze in place. You weren’t tense. Were you? That had made you sit still, even more frozen than before as you start to question yourself. Before you could answer, Ryomen Sukuna finally moved, rolling onto his side to look at you again. The way his sharp eyes dragged over you made your spine go rigid, and you hated that he noticed.

“Tch.” he scoffed. “You really don’t talk much, huh?”

You swallowed down your irritation. “I don’t see a reason to.”

That made him smirk. “Smart.”

You didn’t know why, but the word felt like a backhanded compliment. Then, as if he had already lost interest, he flopped back onto his back, exhaling like he had all the intention of that being his last breath to you.

This whole interaction was nothing more than an afterthought to him.

You should have been relieved all about it.

But somehow, you just weren’t.

Because for some reason, Ryomen Sukuna’s presence lingered in your mind like a storm you couldn’t quite ignore. Even as you left that place, knowing he’d fallen back asleep, you found yourself in a quagmire of him. Your lips pressed into a line as you walked back into the hallways. You had a sinking feeling that this wasn’t the last time you’d find him up here.

And you were right to feel it.

A few days passed.

And just as you feared, Ryomen Sukuna did in fact keep showing up.

The first time that happened, you thought it was a coincidence. Maybe he was just skipping class, maybe he liked the solitude too, though nothing about Ryomen Sukuna screamed quiet loner.

But by the fifth time, you knew better.

You pushed open the rooftop door one afternoon, lunch in hand, only to find him already there—again. This time, he was sitting up, arms resting on his knees, a cigarette dangling between his fingers, the smoke curling lazily in the breeze.

You hesitated in the doorway. “That’s illegal for a kid to do, you know?”

“Does it matter?” He glanced at you, expression unreadable. “You’re late.”

Your grip tightened on your lunchbox. “I didn’t know we had a schedule.”

A lazy smirk pulled at his lips. “We do now.”

You didn’t respond, just walked past him and sat in your usual spot, a careful distance away. Ryomen Sukuna didn’t say anything after that, just went back to watching the sky, flicking ash from his cigarette with a slow, practiced motion.

It was almost peaceful, you would say. Well, almost. But even in silence, he was there, taking up space, shifting the air around him like gravity itself bent to his will. And you hated that you were starting to get used to it. It was starting to get a little bit more comfortable to you, the concept of being together.

Halfway through your meal, he spoke again. “What’s your deal?”

You blinked. “What?”

He turned his head slightly, looking at you with a lazy sort of curiosity. “You. You always eat alone, you don’t talk much, and you look like you’d rather be anywhere else.”

You frowned, ignoring the prickle of irritation at how easily he had read you. “Maybe I just don’t like people.”

Sukuna chuckled, low and amused. “Yeah? Same.”

He flicked the cigarette away, watching the embers burn out as it hit the concrete. Then, before you could think of a response, he leaned back against the metal chain linked fence, stretching his arms out over the metal railing, and exhaled like he had just decided something.

“Guess I’ll keep you company, then.”

You nearly choked. “Excuse me?”

Sukuna grinned, sharp and cocky. “You don’t like people. I don’t like people. We can not like people together.”

You stared at him, searching for some kind of punchline, some hint that he was messing with you. But he just looked at you, completely at ease, like he had already made up his mind and your opinion didn’t matter. Something about that made your stomach twist.

You narrowed your eyes. “I didn’t ask for company.”

He shrugged. “Too bad. You’ve interested me.”

You frowned. Interested in him?

That wasn’t something you wanted.

Not from Ryomen Sukuna.

Your chopsticks hovered over your lunch as you tried to pretend like his words didn’t bother you, but you could feel his scarlet gaze still on you—watching, studying. Like you were a puzzle he was in no rush to solve, content just to poke at the pieces and see what happened.

“That’s not my problem, Ryomen.” you muttered, stabbing a piece of food a little too aggressively.

Sukuna only chuckled, the sound low and amused. “You’re acting like you have a choice.”

That made your eye twitch. You set your chopsticks down with a quiet click, turning to finally face him. “I do have a choice.”

He smirked, head tilting slightly. “Do you?”

His confidence was infuriating. And you hated how smooth it was. You hated how he just knows he’s right. He wasn’t asking you. You knew that. He was stating, dictating as if he had already decided the outcome, as if whatever you thought didn’t really matter. And that irritated you more than anything else.

“You can’t just show up here and declare that we’re friends or something.” you snapped.

Sukuna scoffed. “Who said anything about being friends?”

That threw you off. “…Then what the hell do you want?”

He grinned, sharp and wolfish, like he had been waiting for you to ask. “Dunno. You’re interesting. Thought I’d stick around and see what you do.”

Your stomach twisted at that.

Like you were some kind of entertainment.

God, how much you wanted to curse just now.

Your lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m not here to entertain you.”

Sukuna leaned back against the fence, completely unfazed. “Good. That’d be boring.”

You exhaled through your nose, trying to wick away the irritation bubbling under your skin. There was no point in arguing with him. The more you pushed, the more he seemed to enjoy it. So instead, you picked up your chopsticks and ignored him.

A breeze swept through the rooftop. Ryomen Sukuna didn’t speak again, but you could still feel his presence lingering beside you—heavy, unwavering, unmoving. It wasn’t a threat. Not exactly. But it wasn’t nothing, either.

And deep down, you had the unsettling feeling that no matter how much you resisted, no matter how much space you tried to put between yourself and him. Sukuna had already decided. And he wasn’t going anywhere. Just like that, that conversation was over.

You watched as Sukuna leaned back against the fence again, tilting his head up toward the sky, completely unbothered, like he hadn’t just decided to insert himself into your space without permission. Like it was inevitable. And deep down, no matter how much you wanted to deny it as you ate your lunch, you had a feeling he wasn’t wrong.

══════════════════

YOU REALLY SHOULD HAVE NOT LET HIM DECIDE THIS ‘FRIENDSHIP’ YOU BOTH HAVE. You really should have known when to put your foot down. But you just really were not that good at getting it across as he has. This is why you were stuck in this situation. You glared as you sat there and decided that Ryomen Sukuna was an absolute menace.

Your new friend was someone who was a feared name across campus. A natural-born fighter. A troublemaker with a cocky smirk and a sharp tongue that could tear people apart just as effectively as his fists.

And yet, here he was irritating you to death with that smirk on his lips as he quipped you a new joke you absolutely hated. Here he was, sitting on the rooftop like some stray cat, drinking a strawberry milk carton and eating anpan like a child at recess.

You like to think that if he was just not making those annoying jokes and just sat down and let you watch him eat in silence, mayhaps you would be more mildly amused as he took slow sips of the sweet drink.

“You look like you’re thinking too hard, hm?” Sukuna said, voice full of that lazy, smug amusement that made your eyes twitch.

You didn’t respond. Just glared. Ryomen Sukuna, looking unfazed as always, took another obnoxiously slow sip of his strawberry milk, the straw making an irritating slurping noise that set your teeth on edge.

“Let me guess…..” he continued, tapping his chin in mock thought. “You’re wondering how the hell you got stuck with me, aren’t you?”

You set your lunch down with a sharp click and gave him a look. “I wasn’t wondering. I know exactly how. You forced it.”

Sukuna grinned. “Damn right, I did.”

You wanted to throw his anpan off the roof.

It was insufferable, how much he enjoyed this, how much he enjoyed riling you up. Lately, it was like it was his new favorite pastime. And the worst part? You weren’t even sure if he was doing it on purpose or if he was just naturally this unbearable.

“You could, you know.” he mused, watching you with an almost amused curiosity.

You frowned. “Could what?”

He smirked. “Tell me to get lost. Put your foot down. Give me a real reason to leave.”

Your fingers clenched slightly, grip tightening around your chopsticks. He was daring you. Testing you. He wanted to see if you’d actually do it. And the problem was—you should. You really should. But the words wouldn’t come out.

Because despite how much he irritated you, despite how much you wanted to not be in this situation… there was a part of you that knew: Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t just a delinquent. He wasn’t just a troublemaker or some violent, cocky bastard who liked to fight.

You knew that he was a force of nature, one that has overwhelmed you more than anything else. And trying to push him away was like trying to tell a storm to stop blowing. So instead of answering, you just scowled and turned back to your food, hoping he’d drop it.

Sukuna chuckled, shaking his head as he took another sip of his drink. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

Menace. Absolute menace.

You were never getting rid of him.

And worst of all? You weren’t even sure if you wanted to anymore.

You could only sigh as the long reach of his fingers lazily crinkled the carton. The contrast between his usual rough demeanor and this absurdly peaceful moment never failed to amuse you. More often than not, after these little breaks, he would stretch his legs out, lean against the railing, and pass out. Like clockwork.

And somehow, without either of you ever talking about it, it became a routine. You would sit beside him, pretending to read or scroll through your phone, only to glance at him as he inevitably dozed off, arms crossed, head tilting slightly to the side.

There were times when he’d wake up with a soft mutter. "Well, well, well. You’re still here, aren’t you?"

And you would always reply the same way. "Well, yeah. Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t roll off the roof and die."

At first, he just scoffed at you.

But over time, it changed.

The thanks he used to mutter under his breath became a little clearer. The hesitation in his voice lessened. And then there were the nights when he wasn’t just tired—he was beat. Bruised knuckles, scuffed knees, a split lip that he’d wipe with the back of his hand as if it was nothing.

You had quietly started bringing bandages for him from time to time. The first time you handed him some, he stared at them like you had just offered him a kidney. It was really a pitiful sight, that look in his eyes, both of you knew that.

And yet all at once, it was interesting. That warmth you never expected to see in his eyes. One that he had never expected to feel, one that you had never expected to know.

“Don’t need ‘em right now.” he muttered.

You just stared back. “Sure you don’t.”

He clicked his tongue, but after a moment, he snatched them from your hand anyway. “Tch. You’re so damn nosy.”

That continued for a while. And somehow, that too evolved. At some point, mealtime got involved. It started with him watching you eat one day, his gaze flicking between you and your food like he was debating whether or not to ask.

“You want some?” you finally said, raising an eyebrow.

He scoffed. “No.”

Not even five minutes later, his gaze still hadn’t left your food.

You sighed. “You’re a terrible liar, goddamn. All you eat is anpan. Of course you want this.”

“Shut up.”

You ended up splitting your lunch with him that day. At times, you realized he had a bigger appetite. So you pack more and more, so you both can share more food to last you the day for energy.

You thought it would be a one off thing, but then you kept packing more and more every day. And then the next. And then the day after that. And somehow, before you even realized it, lunch breaks together on the school rooftop became another routine, like a picnic made for the two of you. Some days, you’d talk about random things between bites.

"Have you ever thought about how weird the school anthem is? Like, who wrote that?"

"Probably some dead guy, stop overthinking it." He snickers, eating the lunch you made for him.

On the other mundane days, you’d find yourselves caught up in a very serious competition over stolen playing card games he brings to school. Well, card games he finds somewhere you didn’t even want to think about.

"You pocketed these off a junior?" you asked in disbelief, shuffling the deck.

Sukuna smirked, leaning back against the railing. "Dumbass lost a bet."

"You bullied a much younger kid for this?"

"Tch. He knew the stakes."

You shook your head but still dealt the cards.

Because at this point, why not?

So, you just go with this flow, yeah.

The feared, notorious Ryomen Sukuna was a force to be reckoned with. But somehow, between all the rooftop naps, strawberry milk cartons, late afternoon bandages, and card games, you had carved out a space in his life. And whether he admitted it or not, he didn’t really mind.

And it’s even more weirdly freaky that you and Sukuna ended up sharing a habit of listening to music whenever you had free time. You had your own preferences, of course, but one day, when you passed him one of your earbuds, you were shocked to realize that he actually liked classical music.

"I figured you’d be into something more... aggressive music." you admitted, watching as he leaned back, arms crossed, listening intently.

He scoffed. "What, you think I only listen to music that makes me wanna fight people?"

"...Yes?"

"Tch. Idiot." He turned his attention back to the music, tapping his fingers idly against his knee. "This one’s alright. But Tchaikovsky’s better."

Your jaw dropped. "Wait, you like Tchaikovsky?"

"Yeah? And what?"

You shook your head in disbelief. "I just... I wouldn’t have guessed."

"What, you think I don't have taste?"

"I know you don’t have taste."

He flicked your forehead. That was the day you realized Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t just a brutish boy. If anything, he actually had opinions on things outside of fighting and being a bad boy. And, as it turned out, music wasn’t the only thing.

One afternoon, while you were sitting on the rooftop as usual, Ryomen Sukuna casually pulled out a book and flipped it open, acting like this was completely normal. Your whole mouth was agape to the floor, you were sure of that.

You blinked. "You read?"

He shot you a deadpan look. "No, I just stare at pages for fun."

You rolled your eyes, watching as he turned the page with the ease of someone who had definitely done this more than once. "...What’re you reading?"

"Something you wouldn’t get."

You raised an eyebrow. "Try me."

Instead of answering, he tossed the book at you.

You barely caught it before flipping to the cover.

"...I’ve never heard of this one."

"Figures." he smirked, leaning back against the railing. "You read the boring stuff."

You scoffed. "Excuse me, but I read classics."

"Exactly. Boring."

You gasped, clutching your chest in mock offense. "Oh how dare you?"

He snickers. “I’ll lend you my books, don’t worry. Now sit down and break my ear from your screaming.”

“Oh shut up!”

From then on, lending each other books became a thing. Sometimes, it was casual. Other times, it turned into heated debates over themes, characters, and why the hell Ryomen Sukuna thought the antagonist was right.

But the best part?

Every time he lent you a book, you always found little notes scribbled in the margins—much or less half of them insightful, half of them just him being an ass.

("This guy’s an idiot. Don’t be like him.")

("Bet you didn’t see that twist coming, nerd.")

("I already know you’re gonna argue with me about this part, so don’t even start.")

And you did argue.

But somehow, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

What started as a random book exchange had slowly become something bigger. It wasn’t just about lending each other books or debating over plot twists anymore. It was the way you’d catch Ryomen Sukuna leaning back in his chair, flipping through a book you’d recommended, his brow furrowed in thought.

Or the way he’d glance at you while you read one of his books, waiting for your reaction whenever you hit a major plot point. It was subtle, but it was there. And the teasing, of course, never stopped. You caught him very obviously staring at you while you were finishing one of his books.

You turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “Something on my face?”

He smirked. “Nah, just wondering if you finally get why I was right.”

You huffed, snapping the book shut. “You’re not right.”

“I am.”

“You aren’t!”

“Okay, okay.” he drawled, stretching his arms over his head. “Let’s hear it then, Professor. Enlighten me.”

You scooted closer, pointing aggressively at a passage in the book. “Alright, listen, in this part—”

And that was how you both spent an entire afternoon, passionately arguing over fictional characters like it was a life-or-death situation.

Then came the day you discovered something else. Something about yourself.

And all it took was another day, another afternoon spent on the rooftop.

The sun was warm but not unbearable, the breeze just strong enough to rustle your hair as you leaned against the railing. Beside you, Sukuna sat cross-legged, nursing his beloved cold and fresh strawberry milk carton like it was some kind of divine nectar.

He tilted his head back, taking a long sip before letting out a very satisfied sigh. “Damn, this never gets old.”

You side-eyed him. “You sound like an old man reminiscing about his youth.”

“Tch.” He shot you a lazy smirk. “Better an old man than a nerd who stays up all night studying.”

You gasped, dramatically clutching your chest. “How dare you insult my commitment to academia?”

Sukuna chuckled, reaching into his pocket before casually pulling out a deck of cards. “Alright, nerd. Put your commitment to good use and try to beat me today.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Why do I get the feeling you cheat at this?”

He raised a brow, feigning innocence. “Would I ever?”

“Yes.”

Before he could retort, the rooftop door slammed open, and a very familiar, very exasperated voice rang out. “There you are!”

Both of you turned to see one of your classmates panting at the doorway, hands on their knees.

They pointed an accusatory finger at you. “You skipped the study group!”

Sukuna turned to you, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Oh? Nerd’s skipping study group? Scandalous.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “It’s one session.”

“You never skip.” Your classmate shot a pointed glance at Sukuna, then back at you, suspicion creeping into their features. “Wait. Are you guys dating?”

You froze. “H–huh? What the—”

Ryomen Sukuna—because he was Ryomen Sukuna—immediately grinned like the menace he was.

“Damn, caught in the act, babe.” he drawled, draping an arm over your shoulder. “Guess the secret’s out.”

You smacked his arm away, face heating up. “Oh my god, shut up!”

Your classmate screeched. “You didn’t deny it—”

“BECAUSE HE’S AN IDIOT!” you practically shouted, shoving Sukuna off as he cackled at your suffering.

“Uh-huh.” they said, clearly not convinced. “I’m telling everyone—”

Sukuna smirked. “Go ahead. Maybe then everyone will finally stop flirting with her and I won’t have to glare at every idiot who tries.”

Your classmate’s jaw dropped. “Oh we’re at that level now, huh?”

You, on the other hand, were about two seconds away from exploding. “SUKUNA—”

“Tch, what? I’m just saying what we both know.”

“WE BOTH KNOW NOTHING.”

But even as you yelled at him, he just leaned back, smug as ever, sipping the last of his strawberry milk like he hadn’t just casually dropped a bomb on you and everyone with his stupid conversations.

And somehow, despite the absolute chaos he always brought into your life, you wouldn’t have it any other way. You would choose to be by his side if you were given the choice. Both you knew it too.

══════════════════

HE NEVER REALLY THOUGHT IT WOULD GO THIS FAR. But he doesn’t think he can enjoy going to school without seeing you on the rooftop with him. This is what entices him to even want to go to school. Slowly but surely, Ryomen Sukuna began to enjoy himself in your presence like this.

At first, it was subtle. So subtle that even he barely noticed it. The way his shoulders loosened when he was around you. The way his scowl softened when you teased him. The way he didn’t mind sharing his space, his food, his time with you.

Slowly but surely, he found himself eager for your attention more and more. It started with little things. Like how he’d glance at you first when he finally made a really good joke, just to see if you were laughing.

Or how, even in a crowded room, his eyes instinctively sought you out. How he’d nudge you with his knee when he was bored, just to get you to acknowledge him.

It was annoying. This thing he felt whenever you weren’t near. But you were the only true constant he had, you were the only one that he could find as permanence in the life lived with change. The only one who hadn’t turned away. The only one who didn’t look at him like he was some monster.

And one day, that thought made him stop in his tracks.

You weren’t looking at him badly at all.

You never had, even when you first met him.

Which made no damn sense.

One late afternoon, as you sat together on the rooftop, the sky a deep shade of blue hour in its peak indigo, Ryomen Sukuna found himself blurting out the question that had been gnawing at him for weeks.

“…Why do you stay by my side?”

You looked up from your book, blinking at him. “Huh?”

“I don’t get it.” He leaned back, arms crossed, frowning. “Why the hell do you hang around me? Everyone else either avoids me or wants something from me. But you just—”

"What?" You asked him.

He scowled, struggling to find the right words. “You just stay.”

You tilted your head, smiling slightly. “Because you’re interesting.”

He stared at you like you had grown a second head. “That’s your reason?”

“Yup.”

Sukuna scoffed. “You saw me beat a guy half to death on the first day.”

You laughed, shrugging. “But didn’t you do that because he was looking under a girl’s skirt?”

He paused at your words.

Suddenly, it was just a click.

Something in his chest clicked in place.

He hadn’t even thought about it back then. It wasn’t like he had done it to be some noble hero, he just didn’t like creeps. It was as simple as that. But the fact that you saw it that way? That you had been watching him just as closely as he had been watching you?

It made his ears burn hot red.

“Tch.” He looked away, clicking his tongue. “Still dumb of you to stick around for that.”

You grinned, nudging his arm. “Nah. I think I made a pretty good choice. I mean there were other things that came with that.”

And damn it, he hated how much he liked hearing that.

From that moment on, something shifted between you and Sukuna. Well, at least for him. He wouldn’t say it out loud—not yet, at least—but he had stopped questioning why you stayed. Maybe it was because you weren’t afraid of him.

Maybe it was because you always had a way of looking at him that made him feel like he wasn’t just some guy people feared. Maybe it was because, for the first time in his life, he didn’t feel like he had to prove himself to someone. You were just there.

And somehow, that was enough for him.

But of course, he wasn’t about to get all sappy about it.

He doesn’t dare be that loud about it.

“Alright, genius.” He leaned back, arms crossed, watching you scribble some scientific formula on your massive notepad. “If I’m so interesting, what’s the most interesting thing about me?”

You didn’t even hesitate. “You pretend to be meaner than you are.”

Sukuna scoffed. “Tch. Pretend?”

“Mhm.” You smirked. “You act like you don’t care, but you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“You literally gave that stray cat your milk carton last week, Sukuna.”

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re still on about that?”

“Because it was cute, wasn’t it?” you teased, grinning. “You wanted to take it home with you and nurse it back to health!”

“I will throw you off this rooftop.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Try me.”

And maybe it was the way you were always ready to challenge him, the way you never backed down. Maybe it was the way you could see through him like no one else ever had. Either way, Ryomen Sukuna was doomed.

He was already losing the battle.

Because as much as he’d never admit it, he liked that you stayed.

He liked that you were there with him.

It wasn’t often that Ryomen Sukuna hesitated, that in itself was a fact to everyone you dare ask. But in the moment after that as he watched you continue to scribble on your notepad, he found himself struggling even more. He couldn’t help it.

He wasn’t the type to second-guess himself, to stall, or to act shy about something he wanted. When he set his sights on something, he took it, it was as simple as that. But now, as he sat beside you as he watched you, hands shoved in his pockets, lips pressed together in an almost pout, he looked… hesitant. Which was weird.

You tilted your head. “What’s up with you, Sukuna? You were just fine earlier. I mean you were alright with the banter. Now you’re stunned to silence again.”

Sukuna clicked his tongue, eyes flickering away. “It’s nothing.”

“Liar.” You snickered, not looking up at him. “You don’t lose your words with it being nothing.”

His furrowed brows twitched, and you could see the gears turning in his head. He wanted to say something. You just had to be patient. “…I’m gonna try out for the volleyball team.”

Your eyes widened. “Wait, really?”

He gave a slow nod, avoiding your gaze. “Yeah. I just….thought I need a new leaf.”

“Well, that’s good on you, Sukuna! Less fights, more rights—but on court!”

“Hey, I’m left handed!”

You giggled. “Just kidding.”

And now that you really looked at him, you noticed the way his fingers fidgeted slightly at his sides, how his usual sharp expression was replaced by something almost… uncertain. You could see the red echo all over his face and neck and even his ears.

That was when it hit you.

He wanted to ask you to come.

He wanted you there.

You opened your mouth, but before he could get a single word out, you grinned and butted in. “I’ll be there.”

Sukuna blinked. “Huh?”

“You were gonna ask me to come, right?” You nudged him playfully. “So, yeah. I’ll be there. Front row seat.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, lips parting slightly like he was searching for some kind of response. Then, he scowled, clicking his tongue. “Annoying.”

You laughed. “You love it.”

“Debatable.” But despite his grumbling, you swore you saw the corners of his lips twitch into the smallest smile.

And just like that, Ryomen Sukuna, someone who never asked for anyone’s approval had finally found something he wanted even more than volleyball. He wanted you to see him win. He wanted to see you there when he got his uniform and his place on the team.

“You’re really cute right now, do you know that?”

“Huh? Who are you callin’ cute?”

“Sukuna, give me back my notepad, you tall jerk!”

“Reach for it, shorty!”

══════════════════

epilogue

It started as a normal post-practice dinner, like it always was. It was normal, meaning loud and chaotic thanks to Gojo and Geto and how they roped Yuuji into their antics. The seven of you were packed into your usual corner booth, plates stacked high, drinks half-empty, and conversation buzzing with easy banter.

Then Itadori Yuuji—bless his pure, curious heart—asked the question that sealed Sukuna’s fate. “So… how did you guys even meet?”

You paused, chopsticks mid-air. “Oh, uh…. What do you wanna know?”

The bright-eyed junior smiled at you. “As much as you wanna say, senpai!”

Captain Ryomen Sukuna, who had just taken a bite of pork cutlet, froze. He slowly chewed, scarlet eyes darting toward you like he was calculating whether he should trust you with the answer. Big mistake.

Gojo immediately leaned in. “Oh-ho-ho, now this I wanna hear.”

Geto grinned, leaning back at the white haired vice-captain. “Yeah, you guys never really told us the full story.”

Megumi groaned. “And you really don’t need to.”

Nanami merely sighed, but there was a tiny flicker of interest in his otherwise indifferent expression. You turned to your boyfriend, Ryomen Sukuna with the smuggest look ever. He turned to you, panicked and horrified.

You smirked. “Wanna tell them, my love?”

His eyes twitched. “I hate when you say it like that, so damn mischievous.”

Gojo gasped, delighted. “Wait. You call senpai babe, but she can’t call you babe? Oh my god. This is so good.”

Sukuna shot him a deadly glare. “Do you want me to stab you with my chopsticks? And again, we talked about this. I like being called my love by my girl or nothing.”

"Aw, I'm your girl?"

"I'm going to sleep on the couch later with your stuffed bunny."

"My love, that's just cruel!" You pouted.

His eyes falters as he lowers his head and blushes. "Goddamn it."

Megumi snickers, leaning back. "Are we just gonna skip over the captain liking bunny plushies?"

Sukuna looks up. "I'm going to throttle you."

Gojo shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time someone tried.”

Geto snorted, turning to you. “Anyway, go on and spill, senpai!”

You grinned at him, leaning into the table. “We met in middle school. Sukuna was a menace.”

Sukuna scoffed. “Was?”

“Fine, is.”

Megumi muttered, “Glad we’re acknowledging it, senpai.”

Ignoring them, you continued, “The first time I saw him, he was absolutely wrecking some guy in a fight.”

Yuuji choked on his drink. “HUH???”

Megumi sighed. “Of course senpai was a delinquent.”

“But, but—” You raised a finger. “The guy was really horrible. Sukuna saw that he was looking under another junior’s girl’s skirt and it was making the girl feel horrible, so he jumped in and he started a fight.”

Gojo cackled. “Oh my god, senpai! You saw him commit to beating a guy in a fight and thought, ‘wow, what a prince.’”

Sukuna groaned, dropping his forehead onto the table. “I knew this was a bad idea.”

You patted his back, grinning. “He didn’t get into fights without reason, don’t worry! Anyway, I stuck around. And before he knew it, he couldn’t get rid of me.”

Sukuna grumbled, “Yeah, you were annoying.”

“Were?”

He sighed, already regretting his entire existence. “Fine. Are.”

Yuuji grinned. “So basically… you made the first move?”

Sukuna sat up, looking deeply offended. “No.”

Nanami, who had been quietly sipping his tea, suddenly added, “You were the one who asked senpai to come to your volleyball tryouts.”

Sukuna turned to him, betrayed. “I thought you didn’t get involved in stupid conversations, Nanami.”

“I don’t.” Nanami set his cup down calmly. “But this is funny.”

Gojo howled. “Oh, this is fantastic. Loverboy Ryomem Sukuna actually invited senpai first! Was, he blushing, senpai?”

You grinned. “Hm, he was!”

Geto smirked. “You know what that means, right? That means you made the first move, cap!”

“I DID NOT.”

“You definitely did, captain.” Megumi muttered.

You grinned, resting your chin on your palm. “Face it, my love. Like it or not, you love me with everything you’ve got.”

Sukuna grumbled, looking away, ears red. “Tch. Tolerate is a better word.”

But the way he let you lean against him, the way his fingers brushed against yours under the table?

Yeah, you grinned.

You knew the truth.

And that’s why Sukuna was suffering.

Physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

All because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut.

And he loved you for it, more than anything.

Gojo and Geto were thriving off his pain, Megumi looked like he wanted to die just by being associated with this conversation, and Nanami, the one person who usually had self-control, had actually joined in on roasting him.

Worst of all? You were sitting there, all smug and grinning, as if you weren’t the reason his dignity was being publicly executed.

"Okay, okay." Yuuji laughed, leaning forward eagerly. "So when did you two actually start dating? Who said I love you first?"

Sukuna groaned, rubbing his temples. "Why are we still talking about this?"

"Because it's hilarious, captain!" Gojo said, sipping his drink with a shit-eating grin.

"You guys are acting like this is some historical event!" Sukuna muttered.

"You being in a relationship is basically a historical event, you know that, right?" Megumi deadpanned.

Nanami somewhat agreed. “It’s hard to know how to keep you settled, captain.”

“That’s going to earn you both more burpees!”

You giggled, reaching over to flick Sukuna’s ear. “Come on, tell them how you said it first.”

Sukuna scowled at you. “I didn’t say it first.”

"You so did, huh?" Geto smirked, drumming his fingers on the table.

Sukuna shot him a murderous glare. "No, I didn't."

"You absolutely did." you chirped, grinning.

Gojo perked up like he lived for this drama. "Wait, wait, wait—so the captain said I love you first?! Oh, this is damn gold."

Nanami took a sip of his drink, looking mildly interested. "How did this happen?"

Sukuna crossed his arms, looking like he wanted to crawl out of his own skin. "It was not a confession. It was—"

"A moment of weakness?" Megumi guessed dryly.

"A lapse in judgment?" Geto suggested.

"A divine miracle?" Gojo threw in, wiggling his eyebrows.

Sukuna clicked his tongue, looking at you like you were his final lifeline. He then looked at the other boys. “Multiple running laps on Monday.”

You, of course, were having too much fun. "Oh, it was so cute."

Sukuna groaned. "I swear to god—"

"Okay, okay!" You laughed, waving your hand. "I'll tell the story."

Sukuna immediately collapsed onto the table in defeat. “Jesus Christ—”

"So, one night after one of his games, Sukuna was exhausted—”

"As one is after carrying an entire team, mind you." Sukuna muttered.

You ignored him. "And he was so tired, he wasn’t really thinking before he spoke."

Gojo gasped dramatically. "The captain? Not thinking before he speaks? Shocking!"

You continued, undeterred. "So we were just sitting there, and I handed him a drink, and he just sighs and goes, ‘Man, I love you.’"

An echo of sudden silence.

Then the entire table erupted into chaos.

"NO. WAY." Yuuji nearly choked on his drink.

"AND IT WAS CASUAL? JUST LIKE THAT?" Gojo cackled.

"Disgusting." Megumi muttered, sipping his drink like he wasn’t deeply entertained.

Geto wiped a fake tear from his eye. "Damn. Our boy is whipped."

Sukuna, face fully buried in his hands, groaned. "I was tired!"

Nanami, who was enjoying himself far too much, nodded. "Ah. So it was an accidental confession."

You giggled, patting Sukuna’s back. "And then when I stared at him, all shocked, he tried to walk it back and was like, ‘Wait, no, I didn’t mean—’"

Sukuna slammed his forehead on the table. "I HATE YOU."

"Love you too, my love." you cooed sweetly, kissing his cheek.

Gojo nearly fell out of his chair laughing. "OH MY GOD, CAPTAIN! YOU’RE A LOSER."

Yuuji wiped tears from his eyes. "Man, I love this."

Megumi sighed. "This has been the worst meal of my life."

"Best meal of my life." Geto grinned.

Nanami sighed. "This shit makes me want a girlfriend."

Sukuna looked up, glaring at everyone. "I regret ever meeting you all."

"You love us." Gojo said, waving him off.

"No. I love her. Even if she's a fucking menace." Sukuna jabbed a finger at you. "I tolerate the rest of you."

You beamed, leaning into his side. "See? That was an intentional confession."

Sukuna groaned as the table roared with laughter again. “Why are we going through life like this?”

You smiled at him, leaning in and kissing his cheek. "I love you!"

Okay, maybe tonight was worth it.

218 notes · View notes

supernotnatural2005 · 2 days ago

Text

'Happy Accidents'

Pairing: Dean x Plus!sized Reader

Summary: You haven't seen the Winchester's in over a year, but the case you're working has you scratching your head, and who better to call than some old friends. However, insecurities arise as well as the reprise of a long time crush. Little do you know, it's reciprocated.

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings/tags: Dry humping! (18+Only), fluff, mutual pinning, Plus!sized Reader, body insecurities, curvy girl appreciation, swearing.

AN: Okay so this is my first time writing for a more specific reader body type, but being a curvy-girl myself it was interesting to implement it into a story. And with Dean being the appreciator? Yes please! 😍 I know this might not cater to all of you, but I'm inclusive to all y'all ❤️ Also taking some inspo from @bejeweledinterludes post for this one and @zepskies Midnight Espresso series, which is honestly one of my favourite series and stories featuring a Plus!sized reader!! I do hope you guys like this one! 💕

Main Masterlist

You hadn’t seen the Winchesters in over a year.

Not since that hunt in Nebraska—the one that went sideways fast. The one that left you with a busted-up ankle and Dean with a fresh scar along his jawline. The one where, after all was said and done, you parted ways with an easy “See you around,” never expecting “around” to take this long to come back.

But when a case cropped up—one that twisted your gut with unease—you hadn’t hesitated. You picked up the phone and called the only people you trusted to have your back. If anyone could help, it was them.

And now, sitting in a dimly lit bar, waiting for them to arrive, your nerves were shot. Maybe it was the case. Or maybe it was the fact that you’d changed since they last saw you—since he last saw you.

That old, ridiculous crush on Dean Winchester hadn’t gone anywhere. That much had become painfully clear the moment he picked up the phone, his voice as deep, gravelly, and cocky as ever. But now, with time apart and the weight of your own insecurities pressing down, the idea of seeing him again made your stomach twist.

You had always been curvier, carrying stubborn weight around your thighs, ass, and middle. But in the last year, you’d softened even more. Life had been quieter, with less running and fewer adrenaline-fuelled hunts. You were still strong, still capable, but you felt different. And you knew the type of women Dean gravitated toward—tall, slim, easy.

You were none of those things, and you never would be. And that was okay. But it was a niggling fact that had always lingered in the back of your mind, that had stung each time the three of you got together and you watched him charm someone else. Someone who wasn’t you.

A warm, unexpected hand on your shoulder brings you out of your darker thoughts, with a slight gasp, startling you a little.

“Easy there, sweetheart.”

You turned, heart stuttering as Dean stood there, grinning down at you like no time had passed at all. And damn it all, he looked the same—scruffy and stupidly handsome in that effortless way of his, jeans snug on his hips, flannel worn open over a snug black tee. Sam stood just behind him, offering you a softer, more knowing smile.

“Hey, boys,” you manage, hoping the warmth creeping up your neck isn’t as obvious as it feels. You slip off the barstool, nerves buzzing, but force yourself to keep it together.

Dean’s eyes flick over you—quick, but thorough. For a split second, something unreadable flashes across his face, but it’s gone before you can place it.

“Missed us that bad, huh?” His smirk is pure Dean, cocky and teasing, slipping back into the easy rhythm of your old banter.

You roll your eyes, but are grateful for it. “Don’t flatter yourself, Winchester.”

But your voice is softer than you mean it to be, and when you turn to Sam, pulling him into a warm hug first, you feel Dean’s gaze linger.

Then you step up to him, hesitation curling in your chest—but before you can overthink it, his arms are around you, solid and warm, pulling you close like no time has passed at all.

That familiar scent—woody, spiced, edged with leather—wraps around you, grounding you, unraveling you. For a second longer than necessary, you let yourself sink into it, just this once.

The three of you settled into a booth once the bartender set down your drinks. Sam took the seat across from you, while Dean slid in next to you, his presence a little too warm, a little too distracting.

“So,” Sam started, taking a sip of his beer. “What are we looking at?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “A few people have gone missing over the last month—no bodies, no traces, just… gone. I’ve ruled out everything I know of. There’s no signs of a struggle, no sulphur, no EMF spikes. It’s like they just vanished into thin air.”

Dean frowned, brows knitting together. “And no patterns? No connection between them?”

“None that I could find.” You shook your head. “That’s why I called you guys. I was hoping fresh eyes might help.”

Sam exchanged a glance with Dean, both equally puzzled but already slipping into hunter mode.

“Well, we’re here now,” Sam said, ever the problem solver. “We’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah,” you exhaled, feeling some of the weight lift. “We’ll go over everything in more detail tomorrow. Tonight…” You glanced between them, the tension of the case momentarily fading. “It’s just good to see you both.”

“Yeah, it is,” Sam agreed warmly, raising his bottle. “To old friends.”

You clinked beers with him, and Dean followed suit, but as your bottles met, his eyes locked onto yours. There was something there—something lingering, unreadable, sending a flicker of warmth through you. But just as quickly as it came, it was gone, masked behind an easy sip of his beer. You swallowed, shaking it off as nothing more than a trick of your mind.

The more the beers flowed, the easier it got. You caught up, swapped stories, and fell into familiar rhythms.

Dean was as quick with his smart-ass remarks as ever, and the two of you naturally fell into your usual back-and-forth. Sam, as always, was the long-suffering audience to your antics.

At one point, you and Dean tag-teamed a particularly brutal roast of Sam—this time about the time he’d gotten sick on a case and tried to insist he was totally fine, only to end up passing out face-first into a hotel’s continental breakfast buffet.

“Oh, come on,” Sam groaned, shaking his head as you and Dean laughed. “That was years ago.”

“And yet,” you grinned, “I can still hear the sound of your face hitting that tray of scrambled eggs.”

Dean snorted, nudging his knee against yours under the table. “Dude, you took out the whole table. That poor old lady thought you died.”

Sam huffed, rolling his eyes as he pushed his beer away. “Yeah, and that’s my cue. I’ve had enough of you two for one night.”

You laughed, but before you could say anything, Sam stood, shaking his head. “I’ll see you both in the morning.” He pulled you into a quick, brotherly hug, and you squeezed back.

“Night, Sammy,” you murmured, watching as he strode toward the door, leaving you alone with Dean.

You half-expected him to call it a night too, but instead, Dean didn’t move. If anything, the second Sam walked out, he seemed to settle in more, arm stretching along the back of the booth, fingers barely grazing your shoulder. The casual touch sent a ripple of awareness through you, but you forced yourself to act normal, reaching for your drink instead of acknowledging the way your heart had picked up speed.

“I think I’ll stick around a little longer,” he said casually, surprising you.

Your heart kicked up a notch, but you welcomed the company. “Yeah?”

Dean smirked. “Yeah. We got a lot of catching up to do.”

And so you did. The conversation flowed effortlessly, laughter slipping in between shared memories and stories of the road. Some cases were so bizarre they barely seemed real, and a few had you nearly crying with laughter. Time seemed to pass in a blink of an eye, the bar thinning out around you, and you barely noticed.

At some point, Dean just sat back and looked at you. Really looked at you. His expression softened, head tilting slightly as he took you in, his green eyes flickering with something unreadable. Then, he shook his head and muttered, “Damn, it’s really good to see you.”

The sincerity in his voice knocked the breath from your lungs.

Your lips parted, a response on the tip of your tongue, but nothing came out.

Dean huffed a small laugh, eyes still studying you like he was committing you to memory. “You look good, too.”

The words weren’t rushed, weren’t casual or offhanded. They were steady, like a thought he’d been holding onto for a while.

Heat crept up your neck, and you let out a small, nervous chuckle, dropping your gaze to your drink as you toyed with the condensation on the glass. “Yeah, okay.”

Dean shifted, leaning in just a little, enough that the space between you felt smaller, more intimate. “I mean it,” he said, quieter this time, voice dipping low.

All you could think was; what the hell is happening here?

Dean had never been like this with you before. Sure, he flirted—it was second nature to him—but not like this. At least that’s what you’d always believed. Had you just never noticed? Had you missed the way he looked at you before? Or had something changed?

Swallowing, you forced yourself to meet his gaze, only to find his eyes sweeping over you—slow, deliberate. No hesitation. No teasing. Just appreciation.

His gaze flickered to your lips.

The air felt heavy, charged with something unspoken, something you weren’t sure you were ready for, but part of you wanted to reach for it anyway.

Then—

“Last call!”

The bartender’s voice rang out, cutting through the tension like a blade.

You exhaled sharply, the moment shattering as you snapped back to reality. A part of you wanted to stay frozen in it, let whatever this was between you and Dean unravel, but instead, you reached for the safest thing to say. "We should head back."

Dean nodded, standing with you, hands shoving into his jacket pockets. But even as you stepped out into the crisp night air, the tension didn’t fade. If anything, it followed you like a shadow.

The walk back to the motel was quiet, save for the distant hum of traffic and the crunch of gravel under your boots. The air was cool, a sharp contrast to the heat still thrumming under your skin. You kept sneaking glances at Dean, only to find him already looking at you, eyes dark, thoughtful, unreadable.

He was close—not touching, but his presence was all-consuming. The scent of leather and whiskey clung to him, mixing with the crisp night air, making your stomach twist with anticipation.

When you finally reached your door, you hesitated.

"Well… this is me," you said, voice coming out lighter than you intended, a small, nervous chuckle slipping past your lips.

Dean huffed a quiet laugh, his lips curling into a slow, knowing smile as he looked down at you. "Yeah."

But neither of you moved.

The air shifted again, crackling with something dangerous, something inevitable.

Dean’s gaze flickered lower—tracing the curve of your mouth, watching as you unconsciously pulled your bottom lip between your teeth. His pupils dilated. His breath hitched and something in his expression darkened.

"Fuck it."

The words barely left his lips before he was on you, crashing into you with a hunger that sent you stumbling back against the door. The force of it stole your breath, his mouth devouring yours, needy, desperate, like he’d been holding himself back for years and finally gave in.

A muffled sound of surprise left you, swallowed instantly by his lips, but it only took a second before you melted into him, your fingers fisting the open lapels of his jacket, anchoring yourself against him.

It was hot and messy, all teeth and tongue, the kind of kiss that left you lightheaded and aching. His hands were everywhere—gripping, pulling, claiming—sliding over your hips, your back, fingers digging into your flesh like he never wanted to let go.

You fumbled for the door behind you, barely registering how you managed to get it open before tugging him inside.

Dean groaned against your mouth as the door clicked shut, his hands already working your jacket off your shoulders. "You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this," he murmured against your lips, voice rough, breathless.

Your stomach flipped, your heart fluttering at the implication—the confirmation that this wasn’t just heat-of-the-moment lust. This was Dean. Wanting you. For who knew how long.

A moan slipped past your lips in response because forming actual words wasn’t an option—not with his hands gripping you tighter, not with the way he was kissing you like he was starving.

You barely noticed when you reached the little loveseat, your room provided, until the back of his knees hit it. Taking advantage of his momentary imbalance, you shoved him down onto it and climbed into his lap.

Dean groaned, head tipping back slightly as his hands found your hips, gripping tight. Touching you like he’d always wanted to. His fingers dug into the soft curve of your thighs, your ass, holding you like he couldn’t get enough.

You stiffened for half a second. The way his hands moulded to your body, the way he held you there so easily—so greedily—made your head spin.

You’d spent years second-guessing what guys thought when they touched you, wondering if they found you too much, too soft in places you’d been taught to shrink. The idea of straddling Dean, of all people, should’ve sent a jolt of insecurity through you. Should’ve had you hesitating.

But then Dean’s hands tightened—fingers pressing into your thighs, squeezing like he couldn’t stand not to have you closer. A deep, rough sound rumbled from his chest, his lips breaking from yours just long enough to groan, "Jesus—fuck."

The way he said it sent fire straight to your core.

He wanted you like this. Craved it. He wasn’t just tolerating the way your body pressed against him—he was obsessed with it.

As if to prove the point, his grip turned bruising, his hands dragging you even closer, pulling you down into him, despite the small part of you that feared you might be too much.

Dean grunted, his head dropping forward slightly, his forehead pressing to yours. "Goddamn, sweetheart."

A rush of confidence flooded through you, drowning out every lingering doubt.

And then you moved.

You rolled your hips, testing, teasing—just enough to feel the hard, undeniable evidence of how much he wanted this. Wanted you.

The friction was incredible, sending a bolt of pleasure up your spine, making you bite back a moan.

Dean’s breath hitched. His fingers dug into your flesh, his entire body going rigid.

That only made you do it again. Slower this time, deeper.

Dean sucked in a sharp breath, his hands twitching on your thighs like he was trying to keep himself together.

"Fuck—" His voice was raw, strangled, almost pained.

You could feel him trembling beneath you, every muscle coiled tight as you ground against him, feeling the delicious pressure between you, the way his cock strained beneath his jeans, thick and hot against you.

Suddenly, his hands snapped up to your waist, gripping hard, stilling you.

You barely had a second to register it before—

Dean shuddered. His whole body tensed beneath you, a choked grunt ripping from his throat as his fingers dug into your flesh, his head tipping back against the couch.

He went still, and it took you a second to realise.

Dean Winchester had just cum in his jeans.

A rush of heat flooded his face, his expression shifting from shock to pure horror. He blinked up at you, wide-eyed, mortified.

"Oh, fuck." His voice was barely above a whisper, his hands still gripping your hips, as if he was trying to process what the hell had just happened.

Your lips parted in surprise. Then—a slow, wicked grin spread across your face.

"Did you just—?"

Dean groaned, head dropping back against the couch, squeezing his eyes shut. "Don’t. Just—don’t."

But you couldn’t help it. Because holy shit.

You’d just made Dean Winchester cum in his jeans.

If that wasn’t the biggest ego boost of your life, you didn’t know what was.

Leaning down, you pressed a lingering kiss to his jaw, then his cheek, then the corner of his mouth, revelling in the way his breath stuttered. "That," you murmured, lips brushing against his ear, "is the best compliment I’ve ever gotten."

Dean exhaled sharply, shaking his head, but he didn’t pull away. If anything, he melted under your touch, his hands hesitantly sliding up your sides, gripping your waist like he needed to anchor himself. When he finally looked up at you, the humiliation still lingered, but something warmer, something softer, began to take its place.

His green eyes flickered over your face like he was memorising you. His throat bobbed with a swallow. Then, suddenly, he let out a breathless chuckle, shaking his head.

"God, I’m sorry," he huffed, running a hand down his face, still half-stunned. "You’re just—" His eyes swept over you, dark and reverent as his hands followed, tracing over the curve of your hips, the swell of your full breasts, the thickness of your thighs. His fingers flexed, like he couldn’t get enough, like he needed to feel every inch of you to believe this was real. "Fucking gorgeous."

Heat rushed to your face, your stomach flipping as you instinctively tried to shy away. But Dean was already there, his thumb pressing lightly under your chin, tilting your face back toward him.

"Hey," he murmured, his lips twitching into something wicked and sweet all at once. "Give me five minutes," his hands slid around the curve of your hips, then lower, grasping large handfuls of your ass, his fingers digging in like he couldn't help himself. He groaned, low and deep, pressing you closer, like he needed you to feel just how much he meant it. "And I’ll really show you how much I want you."

Your own lips curled, mirroring his. "Five minutes, huh?" You couldn’t help but hum as he kissed along the column of your throat, his lips soft and warm, his teeth grazing, sending a shiver down your spine.

His grip on you tightened, kneading the flesh beneath his hands, and another groan rumbled through his chest, when you shifted in his lap again and you felt the unmistakable twitch of him against you.

"Okay, make that two," he muttered, his voice rough with renewed hunger.

You laughed, and he grinned against your skin at the sound, before pulling you in and claiming your lips in a hot, deep kiss once more.

“Besides,” he mumbled between kisses, “I wanna sample the goods first, anyway.”

You rolled your eyes, about to retort, but then you squealed as he abruptly lifted you into his arms, carrying you over to the bed like you weighed nothing. With a playful smirk, he dropped you onto the mattress unceremoniously, making you bounce with a giggle.

Dean climbed in after you, hovering over you, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, his expression turning unexpectedly tender. "You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this," he admitted, voice quieter now, raw and honest.

Your heart fluttered.

"Then show me," you whispered.

And as his lips met yours again, slow and deep, Dean swore he’d take his damn time proving just how much he did.

AN: So this just popped into my mind, I hadn't planned on posting, but had to get it out 😅. I know this doesn't cater to everyone it's a little more reader specific, but, it's just another reason to love Dean! 😍

If you would like to be tagged in my future works please respond to this >form< so I can add you to the character's you'd like 😊

Dean Winchester Tag List:

@bettystonewell , @nancymcl , @happyfxckinghorrors , @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter @tbgfvfdcb @crooked-haven @chevroletdean @paganvamp @stoneyggirl2 @deans-baby-momma @spnaquakindgdom @ladykitana90 @lyarr24 , @impala67rollingthroughtown @jackles010378 @riteofpassage77 @spnaquakindgdom @cevansbaby-dove @shadysoulangel @piptoost @star-yawnznn @deansimpalababy @megara0224 @hobby27 @idontwannabehere7 @maddie0101 @kr804573 @shadysoulangel @mrs-nesmith @zepskies @ohheyguyss @suckitands33 @ultimatecin73 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @arcannaa @aylacavebear @bobbdylann @jaredpadonlyyyy @waynes-multiverse @impala67stellawinchester @youroldfashioned @bonbonnie88 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing

#supernatural #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x plus size!reader #dean x you #spn #spn fanfic #sam winchester #spnfamily #jensen ackles #abbalina writes

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rainydayathogwarts · 10 hours ago

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that look on your face - draco malfoy

Draco Malfoy is the type of person to stay silent in a conversation when he has nothing to say. A neutral look on his face that would make those he wasn’t close to think he hated them. Sometimes that was the case, but most of the times it just meant he had nothing to say. That’s why it was so difficult to hide his feelings for you. Any time you joined in a conversation, laughing along with the group and saying nice things, Draco had a dreamy smile on his face, his eyes trained on the way your lips moved when you spoke and your eyes lit up when you remembered something.

The boys never let him live it down. Whenever Theo, Mattheo and Blaise cause sight of him staring at you with heart eyes, they had to elbow each other to hold in their laughs. Draco would be brought out of his daze, straightening his posture and fixing his face so you wouldn’t realise just how in love he was with you.

Salazar forbid that the four boys were ever alone (which happens quite often since they share a giant dorm), because they are instantly on Draco’s back about his obsession with you. “Draco, mate, you need to remember that Potions is your favourite subject. Focus on the class, not on her face.” Would enunciate Theo, speaking to him like a child while Blaise and Mattheo broke out in laughter “Or her tits!” Riddle would add. Draco would just have to sit there and take the harassment from him friends, his pale face burning red with embarrassment. There was no use for him to try and deny his feelings for you. To his friends, or even you for that matter, because it was just so painfully obvious.

That’s why it was also so easy and drama-free for you guys to become a couple, something that isn’t common in relationships between Slytherins. The two of you had just been sat in Draco’s dorm alone, studying for your upcoming exam, but it didn’t seem as though Draco had his head in the game. “You’re giving me that look again.” Draco’s face flushed in humiliation and he looked down at his textbook, except now you were looking up at him. “What look?” “The look that makes me want to kiss you no matter how many people are around.” You answered instantly. Draco’s eyes were instantly back on you, scanning your face to find a hint of lies on your face. When he decided you weren’t lying, both his hands were cupping your jaw to bring you into a soft yet hungry kiss.

The beginning of your relationship wasn’t the end of Draco’s obsession with you, no, it was just the beginning. Draco refused to move from your side unless he had a lesson. So whether it was breakfast, lunch, dinner, study sessions in the library, conversations in the common room, he was always glued to your side, his hands on your body in some way or another. His arm would usually be around your waist, or he’d have a soft hand on your thigh, but he always had the same look on his face when hearing you talk. A loving look with a soft smile gracing his lips. A look on his face so peaceful that when his mother saw you together for the first time, she pulled you away to tell you never to break her son’s heart.

Not that you were planning to.

#rainydayathogwarts #harry potter #hogwarts #slytherin #slytherin boys #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy imagine #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy fluff

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izzygoesdark · 2 days ago

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SMOKE AND MIRRORS

summary: The team is looking for an unsub who makes it impossible to create a proper profile. But maybe the answer is closer than they think. \\ pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!bau!reader \\ warnings: unsub!Spencer, accomplice!reader, some fingering, so MDNI. \\ words: 1.6k \\ series masterlist

There’s always a brief, fleeting moment that changes one’s life forever in this situation, like when you flip a switch to turn off the lights. It usually goes like this; a person tells them their loved one is dead, there’s a beat of heavy silence, and then BAM, like a dam broke. Someone cries, others shout and beg, while there are some who take it with quiet dignity, holding back the tears for God knows how long.

The man in front of you is a beggar, asking the doctor to tell him his daughter isn’t really dead, that she’ll miraculously come back to him after recovering. But she won’t. Her murderer did a good job, they made sure she couldn’t be saved, even if she made it to the hospital.

You glance over at Spencer, who takes a shaky breath, unsure of how to act now, and when his uncertain hazel eyes turn to you, you simply flash a supportive smile at him as you shake your head slightly. This is not the right time to question the father, you have to give him some time to grieve, to finally accept that his daughter is gone forever.

So, as you wait for the tears of the father to stop falling for more than a minute, your colleague moves closer to you and reaches out to squeeze your hand. He knows this case is taking its toll on you, and he’s been supportive all along, and despite his own feelings, he’s willing to put that aside to be there for you.

There’s a clock on the wall of the waiting room, which tells you it took the victim’s father a good half hour to pull himself together enough to talk to the two of you. He blows in the air from his lungs in preparation, then stands up to walk over to where you’re sitting, only to take the chair across from you.

“Can you find whoever did it?” he asks you, his voice rough but full of hope.

On your side Spencer nods in a barely visible way, but it takes him a moment to pick the right words to say. It’s a good strategy, you can’t give the man false hope, mostly because this unsub is a mystery to the entire team.

You only connected certain murders because there’s a little detail that’s there in every single one of them, a small marble in each victim’s stomach. But that’s it. The profile changes with each case, there’s no fix point beside the marbles, and the team is getting more and more frustrated.

Are they working in a team? Is it some challenge for gang members? Or is it the work of a single unsub?

The number of questions keeps rising, with no answer in sight. Hotch is getting frustrated as Strauss decided to put more pressure on him to close this case quickly, while the rest of the team is mad that the unsub is playing this stupid game with you. Catching them became a necessity for your mental health’s sake, so everyone’s working extra hard to find something concrete.

And then, you hear Spencer shift in his chair as he takes a breath. “We’re doing our best to catch him, but this is an unusually complicated case, it might take time. But we won’t give up anytime soon,” he adds in the end.

The man nods and leans back to look up at the ceiling. “That’s good to hear,” he says quietly.

You stay for a few more minutes, but then you decide it’s time to go back to the office. The walk to the parking lot passes in silence, mostly because you’re too lost in your thoughts, and Spencer is perfectly aware of that, this is why he reaches out for your hand again.

In the past year, you managed to hide your relationship from the team, which wasn’t some conscious decision, rather the result of the chaotic circumstances. There were moments when you wanted to tell them, but there was always a new case, some drama in someone else’s life, or anything that made you reconsider.

“Do you think we should stop?” he asks quietly as he brushes his thumb over your knuckles.

Without hesitation, you shake your head. “No, of course we shouldn’t. I just… get a little sentimental sometimes, that’s all,” you tell him with a shy smile before standing on your toes to place a kiss on his cheek.

But that’s not enough for Spencer. Something suddenly snaps in him, and he puts one hand on the back of your neck, his thumb pressing against your pulse point, while the other hand lands on your waist so he can guide you better. Your back hits the side of the car soon after, and he kisses you like his life depends on it.

His eyes darkened a shade or two in the past minute or so, you can see the hunger in them, but he’s not hungry for you. Well, not just for you. But it doesn’t bother you, after all that thing he wants is what got you together, what created a bond strong enough to make it hard to exist without him.

Your phone rings, interrupting your little make-out session, and you both let out an annoyed groan while you check who it is. “Hotch. I guess our little break ends now,” you tell your boyfriend, then place a quick kiss on his cheek before answering the call on speaker.

Back in the conference room, the team goes over the cases and profiles again, trying to find a way to find the logic in the chaos. The unsub in an earlier case was an uneducated man in their early twenties, another time everything pointed in the direction of a perfectionist middle aged woman, and in the most recent case it seemed like the girl was killed by an impatient teenage girl.

Hell, once it seemed like there were two unsubs.

The marble remained the only fix point in the case, and that’s it. Everyone had their own theory, their own profile, but when you tried to find similarities between them, you came up with nothing. The method, the victims, the unsub–everything changed each time, there was no pattern to see. Even Spencer didn’t notice one.

How could he, though?

“That little feminine touch in the teenager edition was a genius idea,” you note with a small smile as you’re driving home once the day is over.

Spencer reaches out to take your hand and lace his fingers with yours. Those long, slender fingers you love so much, whether they run over a page of a book or your body’s most sensitive parts. You shift in your seat when you think about the expert ways he uses them, which doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

“I am a genius, after all,” he says with a smirk, responding to your question casually, while his body does the rest of the talking. He lets go of your hand to move his own to your core, teasing you through the fabric of your pants.

“That you are,” you breathe.

Seconds later you successfully bite back a moan when he pushes his knuckles harder against you, and for the first time that day you’re happy this is one of those days when he decided to take the wheel. Focusing on driving and his hand that is slowly slipping under the waist of your pants at the same time would be impossible.

Without thinking, you gently wrap your fingers around his forearm to ground yourself, but that’s only fuel to the fire, you’re slowly losing control of yourself. “Spence,” you whine when you feel his fingers dip between your folds.

“It’s okay, baby, it’s okay. Listen, we’ll pick a new one tomorrow morning, alright? I have a few candidates,” he coos, as if you had the brain capacity to focus on the plan right now.

“But–”

He pushes his fingers deeper to silence you. “Shh, just relax. We’ll talk about that tomorrow. For tonight, I have a much better plan. I want to give you something you’ve been begging for lately,” he tells you with a big smile when he looks at you.

Before you can say anything, he pulls his hand away from your pants to put his fingers between his lips to taste your juices that cover them. Only then, when a satisfied gleam appears in his eyes, do you realize what he’s talking about.

The baby project.

You don’t even know why you’ve been thinking about this, after all, planning a baby with someone like Spencer isn’t necessarily the wisest idea. But you love him. You want to have a piece of him with you even if something happens to him due to your little hobby.

You’ve been messing with the police, but mostly the BAU, for a while now, testing their limits in every possible way. Who will break first under the pressure? Who will figure it out first? Who will realize the killer’s been one of them all along?

To Spencer, it’s just a game. A game that he desperately wants to win.

And what’s the end game? He wants to hunt down the members of the BAU, one by one. Each and every one of them, he said once. Which raises the question: are you one of them in his eyes?

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid smut

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echstacy00 · 2 days ago

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every breath you take: stalker!landlord!kimsunoo

when you first moved in, the apartment felt like a dream come true—affordable, safe, and run by a landlord who actually seemed to care.

sunoo was young—weirdly young for a landlord. but he had explained early on that it was a family business, passed down by his father. “i practically grew up managing this place,” he said with pride and a sheepish smile—it was cute . and either way, he seemed extremely responsible. he was polite, charming, always ready to help with the warmest smile. he made a great first impression, kind and attentive without being overbearing.

what you didn’t know was that from the moment he saw you, sunoo was infatuated. how could he not be? you were… different. unlike anyone he had ever met. there was something so effortless about your presence, like you were truly heaven-sent. the way you carried yourself, the warmth in your voice when you spoke to others—it was mesmerizing. you were perfect. and perfection needed to be protected.

on your first day, while giving you a tour of the unit, sunoo casually mentioned the security cameras.

“they’re only for emergencies, of course” he quickly reassured you, flashing that signature sweet smile. “no daily surveillance or anything like that—just in case..something happens.”

and of course to you it made sense. the world was dangerous, after all.

and yet, nothing ever happened to you.

a pipe burst in the unit next door, but yours was fine. a power outage hit the entire floor—except for you. The one time you forgot to lock your door, you panicked, only to find everything exactly where you left it. It was like you were protected.

you didn’t think too much of it.

not even when sunoo started mentioning things about you that you never remembered telling him.

at first, it wasn’t the way he spoke that unsettled you. It was the missing things.

little things at first. a necklace you swore you had left on your nightstand. a sweater that you thought was in the laundry basket. then the more..intimate things. things you would never misplace.

it was ridiculous—wasn’t it? you were usually so organized. was your washer eating up your clothes? or… was this deeper than you thought?

still, you told yourself it was nothing. that you were overthinking it.

then, one day, sunoo asked you—casually, like it was nothing—

“how’s that book you’re reading?”

you blinked and slightly furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. you had been reading in your bedroom. alone.

sunoo immediately backtracked, laughing a little and rubbing the back of his neck. “oh—uhm, i saw it during the unit check-up,” he added quickly seeming somewhat nervous? “didn’t mean to sound weird or anything.”

you let it go. because he wasn’t weird. sunoo was sweet, maybe a little awkward, but harmless. right?

then there were more moments.

“you’ve been looking tired lately. staying up too late again?”

again?

your curtains had been drawn. your lights had been off. how did he know?

at first, you brushed it off, but doubt slowly began to creep in. something about the way he said things, how he always seemed to know—it felt off. but then guilt set in almost immediately. you had always been the paranoid one, overthinking every little thing. this had to be the same, didn’t it? sunoo was too… casual for any of this to be real. you must’ve been imagining it.

then the little slips started.

one night, you came home late from dinner with friends. not even ten minutes later, your phone buzzed.

sunoo (landlord) : Saw you got home safe. Good.

your slightly stomach twisted. the hallway cameras didn’t even face your door.

another time, you mentioned trying a new café across town. sunoo hummed thoughtfully.

“the one near the park? you didn’t really like it, did you?”

your breath caught. you had gone alone. you hadn’t told anyone.

the realization crept in slowly, a sickening weight settling in your stomach. you were being watched. the feeling had always been there—subtle, easy to brush off—but now, it was suffocating.

no. you shook your head, forcing the thought away. you were overreacting. he was just observant, that’s all. he paid attention. it was nice, wasn’t it? to have someone looking out for you?

so you tested it.

one evening, you placed your keys on the kitchen counter and made a show of searching for them. you sighed, muttered to yourself, and paced around the apartment like you were frustrated.

not even five minutes passed before there was a knock at the door.

your blood ran cold.

when you opened it, sunoo stood there, smiling softly, holding your keys.

“you left these in the bathroom.”

your heart pounded.

you hadn’t.

And that’s when you knew.

the cameras weren’t just for emergencies.

they were for you.

please do not motify my works.

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xerrorch · 1 day ago

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Walls of Ice

synopsis: zayne and you have eased into a simple routine under the vague title of a relationship. however, the comfortable ease of your friendship and zayne’s metaphorical prevent you two from crossing a very important boundary…

warnings: just some angst, making out, and suggestive language. no beta read, we die like men

pairings: zayne x mc (you)

word count: 2.8k~

author’s note: this is a fic i made for my friend and i decided to post it here for the first time. and yes this is based off of his nightly rendezvous card. also, requests are always open if you want something specific so enjoy!

The hospital was quiet tonight, which meant another calm day for Dr. Zayne.

You sighed with relief as you entered onto the Protocore Incidents floor, where his office was. Only the occasional beeping from machines in patients’ rooms and the quiet chatter of nurses filled the air, and your heart ironically felt a little lighter.

He was working extra hard lately, and you were grateful it wasn’t a hard night for him. You wanted to surprise him by coming by the hospital instead of waiting for him back at his house like usual; your shift at the Hunter’s Association ended early anyway.

You approached his office door and knocked on it gently. It was a few seconds before you heard his deep timbre echoing through the wooden door.

“Enter,” he said. So formal.

You sighed and shook your head with a smile as you moved to open the door.

“Dr. Zayne?” You called to him gently as you poked your head in. “I’m here for my appointment.”

He recognized your voice immediately, his head snapping up from his mountain of paperwork and meeting your eyes. There was a flicker of surprise on his face before it was quickly schooled, which made you chuckle.

Always so put together, and now you were here to help him relax.

“Hi,” you said softly, slinking into the room and shutting his office door quietly behind you. Zayne took off his glasses for a moment and rubbed at the bridge of his nose, his eyes overworked and tired.

“Am I late?” Zayne asked with a sigh before placing his glasses back over his nose. “I’m sorry if I am; this paperwork needs to get done.”

You hummed and slowly approached his desk, hands behind your back as you leaned forward and inspected the text of one of the papers piled on his desk. You don’t understand a single word, with everything being written in medical terms and in the obvious scratchy handwriting of a doctor.

“And when are these reports due, Doctor?” You asked him knowingly, glancing up at him and tilting your head at him.

He frowned as you saw right through him, clicking his pen twice before breaking your gaze to continue writing. “Next week.”

You sighed and rounded his desk, fingers trailing along the wood as you walked.

“Zayne, you need a break,” you said a little pleadingly, reaching a hand out to rest on his shoulder. You shook it gently and gave it a small squeeze of reassurance. “I admit that this wing wouldn’t be here without your hard work, but it also won’t fall apart if you clock out on time tonight.”

Zayne’s eyes fluttered shut momentarily before opening again, a deep breath filling his lungs. He continued writing.

“You know as well as I do how much my case load has increased,” he said quietly, not taking his eyes from the paper. You paused at his words, heart thudding against your chest.

More incidents involving protocore explosions and manipulated protocores had seen a spike recently. You were almost as busy as Zayne some days, with fluctuation after fluctuation calling you out to the field. It was exhausting for everyone on this end involving protocores, but with Zayne by your side, you had managed to find time to take care of yourself in all this chaos.

As a result, though, Zayne retreated more and more into this little office on the Protocore Incidents floor of the hospital, working late into the night and always remaining on call. It made your heart ache for him.

“I know,” you said quietly, reluctantly. “But you're the type to not take your own advice.”

He was constantly reminding you to take care of yourself, to leave work as the second most important thing to worry about. However, he never took his own advice or placed his work on the backburner.

Zayne shook his head and stood up from his desk, taking a stack of papers over to a file cabinet in the corner of his office. He opened a drawer and picked out a folder, neatly placing the papers inside it.

“MC, you know that I sometimes cannot leave on time,” he said, keeping his head down as he rifled through his file cabinet.

You frowned at that. There he went again putting other things before himself.

You had known this man since you were a child, saw him grow into a handsome, successful, smart doctor. He had always kept a distance between his friends and his personal life and issues.

However, now that you two were in— well, you supposed you could call it a relationship— Zayne still maintained that stubborn wall from childhood. It bothered you sometimes, especially when he was set on working late like this.

“Zayne, cmon, I know you,” you said softly, even though a part of you just wanted to shake him to get it through his head. You approached him as he stood at the file cabinet. “I know that you’re already a week ahead on all your reports.”

Zayne frowned again, his brow furrowed. It was a telltale sign that you were right.

He doesn’t say anything so you take the lead again, placing a hand on his forearm and moving closer to him.

“Let’s go home,” you said gently. “You need the rest.”

You didn’t expect him to relent that easily, but that’s exactly what happened. He released a little huff of air before placing the folder back into the cabinet and shutting it. You smiled, but the tension in his shoulders told a different story as to his behavior.

“Let’s go, then,” he said quietly, moving behind his desk to pluck his jacket off of the back of his chair. He shrugged it on as you placed your mittens back on your hands, getting ready to go.

The way back was quiet as Zayne waved goodnight to his coworkers and led you down to the lobby. He was as always the gentleman, a gentle hand placed on the small of your back, but there was something beneath that cold expression; you knew it.

And the security guard at the front desk only made the tense atmosphere worse by calling after you two: “I’m surprised to see you out so early tonight, Dr. Zayne. Have a good night!”

His body instantly tensed as he pulled out the keys to his car. You kept your eyes down on the ground and bit back your tongue.

The car ride home was equally silent, and you shifted in your seat as Zayne drove down the highway, as always the cautious driver. You decided to break the tension a little bit.

“Are you hungry?” You asked him carefully, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. His stern expression softened just a touch, and your chest felt a little lighter.

“I ate earlier. No need to worry.”

You didn’t linger on the stiffness in his voice; you didn’t want to. Part of you wanted to ignore the presence of his walls altogether, but it was hard when he caged himself so tightly behind them in everything he did.

Thank god he lived close to the hospital.

You exited the car without glancing back to see if he was following, punching in the code to his house that he made you memorize in case he wasn’t home. A little kernel of annoyance now resided in your chest, because how could he still be putting up these walls around you?

Forget about those years-long feelings you hadn’t properly worked through together. You were still one of his oldest friends.

You opened the front door and dropped your bag at the little white table in the entryway. You could hear his footsteps behind you, and you could already feel the argument building in you before he even spoke.

“Are you angry with me?” He asked gently, the door clicking shut behind him and shrouding the entryway in shadows. Zayne flicked on the lamp sitting on the little white table, casting a warm glow over the room.

He was close to you, his chest nearly pressing against your back. It was too close for how annoyed you were with him.

“I’m not angry,” you punched out, and Zayne sighed as you stepped away from him. You turned to face him. “I’m just worried.”

Clearly he hadn’t expected for you to say that. His expression softened as he glanced away from you, gathering his thoughts together.

“MC, come here…,” he murmured, holding out a hand to you.

You weren’t ready to ‘come here’ just yet.

“No. No!” You were growing frustrated now. He couldn’t just hug you and make this go away. “You’re not the only one who is allowed to worry, Zayne!”

The silence that fell over the two of you made you realize just how loudly you were speaking to him. You believed you hadn’t raised your voice at him since you were kids, but right now it felt necessary. Maybe then he would be able to hear you.

Zayne ran a hand over his face, his glasses jostling slightly on his nose.

“I’m used to this,” was all he said. Before you could urge him on, he continued. “I’m used to the stress, and the chaos, and everything in between.”

You held your breath as he spoke like that, your nails digging into your palms. Your mind went quiet, his gentle voice sliding over your skin like a heated touch.

“Your grandmother told me to look after you, and that’s exactly what I’m doing.” At the mention of your grandmother, you flinched slightly. Your gaze traveled to the floor beneath your feet as you swallowed.

He didn’t say anything else, and silence stretched.

“I’m not the only priority here,” you murmured. Another sigh escaped Zayne from across the room.

“Yes, you are. You always have been.” A footstep, then another. You don’t move, shaking your head.

“Zayne, no,” you said firmly. The footsteps paused. “I dedicated my life to helping others–”

“So did I.”

“–so why can’t I help you?”

A sigh. “You’ve always been persistent, even as a child,” he murmured, taking another step closer to you.

“I know I’m not a doctor, but I want to help you,” you said, your head snapping up to meet his eyes. He had a guilty look on his face, and you wondered why. Why does he think like this?

“MC…,” he whispered, taking another step until you were toe to toe with him. His hands twitched, as if he was holding back from cradling your face. “The last thing I would want to do is burden you.”

Burden. It was such a strong word. The knife in your heart twisted at that, and your expression softened, your lips parting.

You suddenly wanted to protect this man from anything and everything; there was a fragile heart underneath this icy exterior. He surely couldn’t protect you all the time– he was only a man. He could damn well try, but even Zayne could tire himself out eventually.

But this man could never be a burden. Never.

Your hands come up instead to hold his face between your hands. You rose onto the tips of your toes, slowly but surely.

“Whoever told you that caring for you is a burden needs to pay,” you whispered before tentatively pressing your lips against his.

It was soft, but full of meaning and emotion. You didn’t understand why, but you wanted to let Zayne know that you were here. You were alive and kissing him.

And by God, you wanted him to know that you cared about him. Wholly and truly, even after years of friendship.

When you pulled back, Zayne’s breathing became heavy, his eyes flickering with something you couldn’t decipher. He stood rigidly, and your fingers twitched as they cradled his jaw. Did you do something wrong? Did he not like it?

It happened fast, before you could even get out a word of an apology.

He dove straight back in, hands flying to your jaw as he kissed you deeply. It wasn’t as soft as the first time, his tongue sliding against your lips and silently begging for you to open up for him. You complied with a hum and tilted your head back; Zayne’s chest gave a low rumble as he tasted you.

It hit you that this is the first time you had kissed him. You didn’t even think about it when you did it– it just felt right. Regardless, after years of friendship, that line had finally been crossed in a physical sense.

His glasses slipped from the bridge of his nose and bumped against your face. You didn’t mind the interruption as he pulled away from you, panting heavily as he inspected your face.

Your hand lifted and gently touched his lens, ready to take it off yourself. He brushed your hand away and shook his head, huffing as he ripped it off himself before returning to your lips.

It was quick, impulsive. And you knew that whatever walls Zayne had in place came crumbling down at your feet. Down fell the pinnacle of perfection and control that Zayne embodied, and in its place was this.

It was like he was a different person, slowly backing you against the wall while kissing you in the middle of the foyer. Before he could trap you there, you stumbled a bit over your feet, momentarily breaking away from the kiss to glance down. Zayne grumbled and dipped his head to try and find your lips again. His hands then fell from your neck to your hips, then to the backs of your thighs.

You yelped as he hoisted you upwards, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist and your arms around his neck. Your eyes widened as you looked down at him, at the intensity in his eyes; it was ironically like a blazing fire.

“Zayne…” You didn’t even know what to say other than his name, and his eyes darkened at the sound of his own name.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to maintain control around you?” He asked gruffly, and your heart thudded loudly against your ribs. You shook your head down at him, your teeth finding your lower lip and biting down.

His gaze dipped to your lips again, his chest expanding and his brows rising in interest.

What was this? This was not Zayne anymore.

With a grunt he started walking with you still wrapped around him, tightening his grip on you. You already knew that he was heading for the stairs, and there went another wall that came crashing down.

You never stayed over. Never. You guessed things had changed now.

“How could I have believed that?” He asked, and you were not sure what he was talking about at all. You settled into his hold, your head in the crook of his neck, and Zayne’s hold tightened immensely, as if he were afraid you would run from him. “How could I resist the most tempting person I’ve ever met?”

You shivered at his words, your eyes fluttering shut. It seemed like his words stretched across years, generations, eons. It came from his very soul.

As he climbed the stairs, your head lifted slightly, your lips attaching to his earlobe. You sucked the skin into your mouth before nibbling gently on the flesh.

“I think we found something you’re terrible at,” you murmured. It was to tease him, just like when you were kids, but Zayne took that little jab as something to chuckle at.

He adjusted his hold on you, your core shifting against the rigid plane of muscles running down his abdomen. Zayne groaned at the movement, his fingers digging into the meat of your thighs, and you were so sure he would leave marks there.

“I’ve been resisting this since we were thirteen years old,” he admitted bluntly as he reached the top of the stairs. You faintly heard the thud of a door opening as you continued to nibble on his ear lovingly. “I think I’ve been doing a pretty good job so far.”

When the soft plush of the bed hit your back, you flinched, and your vision of the ceiling was immediately invaded by Zayne’s black hair and the deep green of his eyes. You cracked a smile as he just took you in, his gaze flickering around your face as if to check you were really beneath him.

“Guess you lost your streak,” you whispered, and amusement sparkled behind his eyes as you draped your arms around his neck. Those icy walls that once surrounded his heart melted into mere puddles.

His once cold hands were now warm as they glided across your skin, and a rare smile tugged at Zayne’s lips as he watched you shiver. Your nostrils flared at your intake of breath, your chest expanding against his palm; he glanced down at your body like a doctor, methodically, but now with a barely concealed hunger.

“I’ve hardly lost.”

It was Zayne’s turn to feed into his urges, and you didn’t mind it one bit as the night slowly bled away into day between sweat-slicked skin and whispered confessions.

#lads zayne #zayne love and deepspace #lnds zayne #l&ds zayne #zayne x reader #love and deepspace #lads #lads mc #lads x reader #zayne x mc #zayne x you #doctor zayne #dr zayne

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cherrycheolkat · 1 day ago

Note

seungcheol + forced masturbation!!

hiiii anon, so this is a continuation of the previous fic i wrote for the prof. seungcheol prompt (in case you missed it) - so let's call this part ii

♡ kat

bingo square: f0rced masturbation (prof. choi, pt. ii)

pairing: choi seungcheol x f!reader

summary: prof. choi has a new kind of session with his favorite student

genre: college au, professor!cheol, collegestudent!reader

word count: 0.8k

rating: 18+, mdni

warnings: explicit language, smut, fingering, masturbation, dom/sub undertones, penetrative sex

it was late when he called you - something he almost never did. you could hear papers shuffling in the background when he asked you to come to his office. his voice was calm like always.

before he hung up, he had paused for a beat, “wear the skirt i like.”

he was sitting on the edge of his desk, waiting for you. he gestured for you to sit on the couch that faced his desk. it was leather and not especially comfortable, not that you ever complained to him.

you were both quiet. the longer he watched you in silence, the more you squirmed internally.

finally, he sighed, “you want a good grade don’t you, y/n?” his voice was almost sweet.

you nodded. of course you did, even if you were doing horribly.

“then touch yourself,” he whispered.

you watched him, knowing he meant what he said, but you wanted to know what the game was. you were here late at night, and he only wanted to watch - it wasn’t…he liked to be in control, you wondered what he was thinking.

when you didn’t move quickly enough, he walked over, shoving you back onto the sofa, “did i ask for something difficult, y/n?” his voice was tight, as he pinned your shoulders to the sofa.

his gaze was intense, and when you still didn’t answer or move, he let go of your shoulders, grabbing your thighs instead and forcing them wide.

“i’m asking for something so simple, and here you are quibbling over what exactly?” he asked, as he ripped your underwear to the side, his fingers slamming into you. “all the things i’ve done to you, and you can’t just do what i’m asking?”

you whined at the contact, your hands squeezing his shoulders, “fuck,” you gasped.

he pulled his fingers free though, smacking your pussy roughly, making you yelp.

he sighed, glancing at you, “you’re wet for me, when i haven’t even touched you,” he leaned close, his lips a breath from yours.

“now, play with yourself, or maybe i fail you, or maybe i go to the dean to report your little extracurricular activities, hmm?” he rasped - there was no bite in his voice.

still, you swallowed roughly, nodding, “okay,” you finally whispered.

he moved to let you free your hand and to sit back to watch. he still held your thighs apart, waiting.

he watched you as you stuck your first and second finger between your lips, wetting them before reaching down to feel your pussy. he was right that you were wet, but he had asked for you to do it the way you did it when you were alone, so you didn’t skip any steps.

you traced your fingers around your clit - you liked to tease yourself the way you imagined he would. when you dipped your fingers into yourself, you moaned softly, whispering his name, imagining your fingers were his.

you pushed them deeper, wanting to fill yourself as much as possible.

you heard the heavy way he exhaled, “even alone you want me to be stretching you, don’t you?”

you nodded, “always,” you murmured, “always wanting you,” you whispered as you pushed your fingers as deep as you could and scissored them apart, whining gently. you were sore from the day before, from what he had done.

you weren’t watching him as closely - you were lost in what you were doing. thinking about him, his dick, and everything he did to you with it. you finally popped your fingers free from your pussy, stroking your clit, and reaching under your shirt with your free hand, squeezing your breast and teasing your nipple. all the time, you could feel his grip tightening on your thighs, squeezing you - you hoped he would leave bruises.

you waited for him to say something, to give some kind of direction, but he didn’t. he only watched as you finally came apart on your own fingers, shivering, cum dripping, while you moaned his name.

you were almost shocked to feel his lips make contact with yours. the way he licked into you - you groaned, wanting him.

it was the way it became sloppy that was new, sloppy and unplanned. when his cock slid into you so easily, filling you exactly how you wanted - it felt like you were even further from what normally went on in his office when you were alone with him. he was fucking into you, genuinely fucking you. there was no patience, no rules, just two bodies connecting as though they desperately wanted to become one.

and when he kissed you after it was over, all soft and lingering, and he didn’t rush you away with some new thing to ponder, you wondered what was happening. what was happening with you and seungcheol.

a/n: uwu cheol being low key soft - i cannot help that i am a soft, fluffy monster lurking in the dark okay

♡ kat

if you want to submit a bingo ask the newest bingo is [here] but there are still open squares from the previous two [here] and nsfw only bingo is [here]

tag list: @syluslittlecrow ☁︎ @gyuguys ☁︎ @haik-chu ☁︎ @tinyelfperson ☁︎ @lovetaroandtaemin ☁︎ @unlikelysublimekryptonite ☁︎ @gigglensnort ☁︎

♡ if you want to be tagged in my posts, go [here] & this is my [master list] if you want to read more

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daydreamabout · 2 days ago

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The Line That Was Crossed [Tim Bradford Imagine]

Summary: Y/N and Tim end up in Sergeant Grey's office.

The afternoon was unusually quiet at the LAPD precinct, and Tim Bradford couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease. It was one of those rare shifts where things seemed a little too calm, which only ever meant one thing: trouble was about to strike. As he sat at his desk, reviewing case files and making notes, he couldn’t help but glance over at Y/N, who was across the room, casually leaning back in her chair and chatting with Smitty. She looked relaxed, but Tim knew that beneath her easy-going exterior, she was just as alert as he was. They’d been working together for over a year now, and in that time, they’d become more than just partners. They’d become something deeper, more personal. Officially, their relationship was still lowkey at work. They’d agreed that it was easier to keep things professional in front of their colleagues, but the unspoken tension and affection between them was always there, simmering just below the surface.

But today, something was different. There was a fire in Y/N’s eyes—something Tim hadn’t noticed until it was too late. He was halfway through a phone call when it happened. A call came in on the radio for a suspected drug deal going down in a nearby alley. Tim immediately grabbed his gear, but before he could turn to Y/N, she was already up and moving, her eyes locked on the door like she was already ten steps ahead.

“Come on, we’ve got work to do,” Y/N said, her voice sharp with determination.

Tim nodded, grabbing his own vest and weapon. “Let’s do this.”

As they arrived at the alley, the tension in the air was thick. The usual suspects were there—two men standing near a car, speaking in low tones, exchanging what looked like a bag of cash. Tim’s instincts were on high alert, but it was Y/N’s energy that was throwing him off. She was moving faster than he expected, eyes narrowed, every muscle tense, but not with caution—no, it was more like she was ready to explode.

“Y/N, slow down!” Tim called out, reaching for her arm, but she was already halfway across the alley.

“Let’s end this,” she snapped, her voice cold as she approached the men.

Tim’s eyes widened. He could already see how this was going to go down. They weren’t dealing with some simple street thugs—they were connected, and any wrong move could escalate things in a heartbeat. Tim started after her, trying to get her to stop before the situation spiraled.

“Y/N!” Tim’s voice was sharper now, his hand on her shoulder, pulling her back gently. “This is a setup—wait for backup!”

But she wasn’t listening. “I don’t need backup,” Y/N said, her voice tight, almost angry. She wasn’t backing down. “These guys aren’t walking away this time. You said it yourself: enough is enough.”

Before he could respond, one of the suspects turned and saw them, and that’s when everything went sideways. The man jerked his hand out of his pocket, and without thinking, Y/N pulled her weapon, pointing it at the man’s chest.

“Drop it!” Y/N shouted, her voice filled with authority, but there was an edge to it—one that made Tim’s stomach drop. He knew her—knew she wasn’t a loose cannon—but this was different. Her finger was on the trigger, and her breath was coming a little too fast.

“Y/N, no!” Tim shouted, rushing forward to intercept her, but it was too late.

The situation had already escalated. The suspect made a move—quick, jerking to the side—and Y/N flinched, her weapon trembling slightly in her hands. Tim grabbed her wrist just as the shot fired, but it wasn’t aimed at the suspect. The bullet slammed into the wall next to them, creating a cloud of dust and debris.

“Drop the gun, now!” the other suspect shouted, pulling his own weapon, aiming it at them.

The situation was out of control, and Tim could see it in Y/N’s eyes—she had reacted in a way that wasn’t like her. It was raw, impulsive, and now they were both in danger because of it.

“Put the gun down!” Tim barked at the suspect, trying to regain control of the scene. “You don’t want to do this.”

Thankfully, backup arrived just in time, and the standoff ended with the suspects being arrested without any further shots fired. Tim and Y/N both were shaken, but as they watched the officers cuff the men and lead them away, Y/N’s hands were still shaking slightly.

Tim’s anger was building now, though not directed at the suspects. He turned to Y/N, his voice low but firm. “What the hell was that, Y/N?”

She glared back at him, her face tight with frustration. “I was doing my job, Tim. I don’t need you babying me.”

Tim’s jaw clenched. “I wasn’t babying you. You were about to make a mistake. I know you’re pissed about the case, but you can’t let it cloud your judgment. You almost got us both killed out there.”

Y/N’s eyes flashed, but she didn’t argue. She knew he was right—part of her had been itching for something like this, something that would let her take all the frustration out on someone. But she knew she had crossed a line, and it felt worse than it should.

Tim softened his tone, trying to reach her. “Look, I get it. You’ve been under a lot of stress lately, but this isn’t the way to handle it.”

But before Y/N could respond, a voice interrupted them.

“Bradford, Y/N—get in my office. Now,” Sergeant Grey’s voice rang out, cold and commanding.

Tim and Y/N exchanged a look. They both knew what this meant.

Ten minutes later, they stood in Sergeant Grey’s office, the door shut behind them. Grey’s stern expression was enough to make anyone nervous, but Tim and Y/N had been in enough trouble before to know this was different. Sergeant Grey stood with his arms crossed, his gaze flicking between the two of them. “Care to explain what the hell happened out there?” he asked, his voice even but heavy with disapproval. Y/N opened her mouth to speak, but Tim cut her off, his voice steady. “It was my fault, Sarge. I should’ve stopped her before it escalated.”

Sergeant Grey narrowed his eyes. “This isn’t about you protecting her, Bradford. This is about judgment. Both of you crossed a line out there, and it’s not something I take lightly.”

Y/N’s face tightened with frustration, but she didn’t interrupt. She knew she’d messed up, and this wasn’t the time for excuses.

“You’ve been partners long enough to know how to keep it together, but today, you didn’t. Y/N, you were reckless. And Bradford, you let her be reckless. The next time, someone won’t be as lucky.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her stomach turning with the weight of his words. “I... I didn’t mean for it to go down like that,” she said, her voice quieter now. “I just—I got caught up in the moment.”

“I know,” Sergeant Grey replied, his tone softening slightly. “But when you're out there, you don't have the luxury of acting on instinct alone. You need to think, not react. You're both better than that. So, this is your warning. Don’t let it happen again.”

There was a heavy silence as both Tim and Y/N nodded in acknowledgment.

Sergeant Grey gave them one last, long look before finally speaking. “Alright. You’re both dismissed. But remember—out there, we don’t just watch each other’s backs. We trust each other to keep it cool. Now, get back to work.”

As they left his office, Tim couldn’t help but feel the weight of the situation. He’d been right to be protective of Y/N, but in doing so, he’d let the situation spiral out of control. Y/N was usually the one to stay level-headed, but today, she’d let her emotions take over.

“You okay?” Tim asked as they walked down the hall, his voice low.

Y/N took a deep breath, nodding. “Yeah. Just... got carried away. I’ll do better.”

He gave her a small smile, offering his silent support. "We both will."

#eric winter #netflix #the rookie #the rookie imagine #tim bradford #tim bradford fanfiction #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford imagines #tim bradford oneshot #angst #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford angst #the rookie fanfiction #the rookie x reader

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airandyeah · 3 days ago

Text

Animals (Alpha!Sukuna X Alpha!Toji X Omega!Reader) Pt.3

My Masterlist Series Masterlist Warnings: Obvious A/B/O dynamics, suggestive comments or actions, just generally Minors DNI-just in case. This will be similar to Pink Pony Club and Sins, where I just mark every chapter as 18+ This also has the general warning of Toji and Sukuna both honestly being menaces.

The store was small—just a handful of aisles, stocked with the essentials, but clean and well-kept. The kind of place where everyone probably knew each other’s business, which meant you were already regretting coming here with them.

You had barely grabbed a basket when a sweet-looking old woman shuffled up beside you, her warm eyes crinkling as she peered up at you.

“Oh my, you must be new in town,” she said, voice kind and familiar. “And here I thought these two hooligans didn’t like sharing their space.”

You opened your mouth to correct whatever assumption she was making, but before you could, Toji slung an arm around your shoulders, grinning.

“What can I say, ma’am?” he drawled, tone smug. “She’s special.”

Your entire body tensed. “I—”

“Oh, she’s more than special,” Sukuna added, stepping up on your other side. “She’s ours.”

Your jaw dropped.

The old lady beamed. “Oh, well, isn’t that just wonderful?” She patted your arm, eyes twinkling. “These two may look like trouble, dear, but they’re good boys at heart. You keep ‘em in line now, you hear?”

You made a strangled sound, desperately shoving Toji’s arm off you. “I—we—that’s not—”

“Oh, don’t be shy,” Toji teased, giving you a wink. “No need to be modest in front of sweet Mrs. Takada.”

“Modest!?” you hissed. “You two—you—”

Sukuna leaned down, voice dripping with amusement. “Something wrong, sweetheart?”

You swore you were going to kill them.

Mrs. Takada just chuckled. “Oh, young love. You three have a wonderful day now.”

She shuffled off, leaving you fuming in the middle of the store.

Slowly, you turned to face them. “You two are the worst.”

Toji grinned. “Nah, you just make it too easy.”

Sukuna smirked. “Come on, Omega. Let’s get your groceries before people start asking when the wedding is.”

You hated them.

The basket wasn’t that heavy. You could handle it just fine. But apparently, Toji had other ideas.

One second, you were shifting the weight in your grip, and the next, it was gone—plucked effortlessly from your hands as Toji slung it over his arm like it weighed nothing.

Your brows twitched. “Give it back.”

He raised a brow, smirking. “You’re struggling.”

“I was not.” You crossed your arms, glaring. “I can carry my own damn groceries.”

Sukuna snorted from beside you, casually tossing a bag of chips into the basket. “Yeah? And yet, here we are.”

You bristled. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

“Didn’t need to.” Toji adjusted the basket in his grip like he wasn’t even holding anything, then shot you a lazy grin. “It’s cute when you get all worked up, though.”

Your fists clenched at your sides. Alphas. Always acting like they needed to step in, like they had to take over. You were perfectly capable of handling yourself—you’d been doing it your whole life.

“Seriously, give it back,” you snapped.

“Nope.” Toji popped the p with infuriating ease.

You turned to Sukuna, fuming. “You gonna let him act like this?”

Sukuna smirked. “You think I’m any better?”

You let out a frustrated noise, snatching a can of soup off the shelf with a little more force than necessary. “You two are insufferable.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Toji chuckled, moving ahead of you toward the register. “Come on, stubborn. Let’s get you checked out before you throw a tantrum.”

You gritted your teeth, following after him.

If the whole basket fiasco hadn’t grated your nerves enough, Toji pulling out his wallet at the register nearly made you see red.

Your groceries—your food, that you picked out—rang up one by one, and before you could even reach for your own wallet, Toji had already handed over a couple of bills like it was nothing.

Your jaw clenched. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Paying,” he said casually, shoving his wallet back into his pocket.

You shot a glare at Sukuna, hoping for backup, but he just leaned on the counter, smirking. “What? Gonna cry about it?”

Your eye twitched. “I can buy my own damn groceries.”

Toji just grinned. “Yeah, but this is more fun.”

You hated him. You hated them both. Your hands balled into fists at your sides. “Give me your damn Venmo—”

“Don’t got one.” He grabbed the bags, stepping back with zero shame.

You turned on Sukuna. “You, then—”

He chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. “Mm… nah.”

You let out a sharp breath, trying to keep your temper in check. Alphas. Always thinking they had the right to take control, to step in uninvited. Like you couldn’t take care of yourself.

Toji slung one of the bags over his shoulder, then nudged you toward the door. “C’mon, stubborn. We’re taking you home.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” His smirk was nothing but cocky.

You stormed out of the store, practically vibrating with frustration.

The worst part? You didn’t take the bags back from him. ~~~ The car ride back to your cabin was excruciating.

Toji and Sukuna had spent the whole drive making smug comments, throwing you amused glances, and generally basking in their absolute audacity. Every time you grumbled under your breath, they just seemed more entertained.

By the time they pulled up to your cabin, you were barely holding onto your patience.

The truck rumbled to a stop, and before either of them could say a word, you snatched the grocery bags from Toji’s grip and shoved the door open.

“Thanks for the ride,” you said, tone as flat as possible. You stepped out, desperate for space—for a moment without their presence weighing down on you.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” Sukuna called lazily.

You turned just in time to see the smug bastard leaning back in his seat, watching you with amusement. Toji, still behind the wheel, gave you a lazy two-fingered wave.

You bit back a growl, spinning on your heel and storming toward the cabin.

The sound of their truck lingering on the gravel sent a sharp pulse of irritation through you, but finally—finally—the engine rumbled back to life.

And then, blessedly, they were gone.

You exhaled slowly, stepping inside and shutting the door behind you.

Peace.

Finally, you could think. Finally, you could breathe without those two pressing in on you from all sides.

You set the groceries down with a little too much force, your mind racing despite yourself.

Because, no matter how much you wanted to ignore it—

Their scent still clung to you. Alphas. Alphas. FUCKING ALPHAS! You paced the length of your cabin, hands clenched at your sides, frustration bubbling under your skin.

It wasn’t fair.

Your body—your damn biology—was betraying you.

The lingering scent of them clung to your clothes, wrapped around you like a taunt. It was strong, invasive, and worse—your Omega instincts weren’t fighting it.

No, they liked it.

Your stomach twisted at the realization. Your body craved something you had no intention of giving in to.

You weren’t some weak-willed Omega, waiting around to be claimed. You had spent your whole life proving that you didn’t need an Alpha to take care of you. You were independent. You made your own choices.

And yet…

Your body didn’t seem to give a damn about your principles.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of your shirt as if you could shake off their scent by force. This is just instinct. It doesn’t mean anything.

Still, you hated the way your skin felt hot thinking about the way Toji’s muscles flexed pushing your car into the shop. The way Sukuna had smirked at you like he already knew what you were feeling before you did.

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. No.

You weren’t going to be pulled in by them.

They could be as smug as they wanted. They could tease and push and act like they owned the damn town. But they didn't own you. ~~~ The truck rumbled down the dirt road, leaving behind a stubborn little Omega who had no idea what she was in for.

Sukuna leaned back in the passenger seat, arms crossed over his chest, lips curled into a knowing smirk. “She’s a tough one.”

Toji snorted, keeping his eyes on the road. “Stubborn as hell.”

Sukuna turned his head, watching the cabin disappear behind them. “You like that, don’t you?”

Toji’s grin was slow, deliberate. “Oh, love it.”

That little fire in you, the way you bristled every time they got too close—yeah, it was gonna be fun breaking that down.

“She’s already reacting to us,” Sukuna said, tapping his fingers against his knee. “Even if she doesn’t want to admit it.”

Toji hummed in agreement. “Doesn’t matter if she fights it. She’ll lose.”

And she would. Omega instincts didn’t lie. No matter how much you tried to shove them down, no matter how many glares you threw their way, your body was already betraying you. They could smell it. That sharp little spike of frustration, the way your scent wavered just slightly whenever they got close.

“You think she even realizes yet?” Sukuna mused.

Toji chuckled. “Nah. She’s too busy bein’ pissed off.”

Sukuna exhaled a laugh, his smirk deepening. “Good. I like a fight.”

Toji pulled into town, throwing his best friend a sidelong glance. “So? You in?”

Sukuna gave him a look like he was stupid. “Obviously.”

They didn’t need to talk about it much—hadn’t needed to for years. They worked in sync, had been since high school. If they wanted something, they went for it.

And you?

You were theirs. You just didn’t know it yet.

So they’d push. They’d chase. They’d win.

And by the time you realized you’d lost—

You’d never want to escape.

People had always assumed.

The way they moved together, the way they knew what the other was thinking without a single word—hell, the way they always stuck together.

Sukuna and Toji had heard the rumors for years.

But they had never been that way.

Sure, they had each other’s backs, knew each other better than anyone else, but it was never romantic. Never that kind of intimate.

But this? You?

That was different. They both wanted you.

And they weren’t going to fight over you—not when they knew how to share.

Sukuna chuckled darkly. “Cute how she thinks she’s got control.”

Toji’s grin widened. “Yeah. Real cute.”

They had all the time in the world to break you down.

To push you, tease you, drive you so far up the damn wall that by the time you realized what was happening, you’d already be theirs.

Like a toy between two hounds. One way or another, you were going to break.

And when you did? You’d never want to put yourself back together. ~~~ You stared at your phone for a good five minutes before finally caving.

You did not want to text them.

The very idea of willingly reaching out to those smug bastards made your skin prickle with irritation. But you needed your damn car back, and avoiding them forever wasn’t exactly an option.

With a sigh, you begrudgingly typed out the message:

You: Did you order the part yet?

You hit send, immediately regretting it.

Not even a minute later, your phone buzzed. You had changed their contacts to their actual names at this point.

Sukuna: Miss us already?

You groaned, flopping back on your couch. Of course that was his response.

Before you could ignore him, another text came through.

Toji: Yeah, it’s ordered. Gonna take a few days.

Simple. Direct. See? That wasn’t so hard. If only Sukuna could do the same instead of being insufferable.

But then, another text.

Sukuna: You should come keep us company while you wait.

Your grip tightened around your phone. You could practically see his cocky smirk.

You: Pass.

A moment of silence. Then—

Toji: You gotta leave the house at some point, sweetheart.

Your jaw clenched. Assholes. Both of them.

You tossed your phone onto the table, crossing your arms. No way in hell were you letting them get to you. You’d wait. You’d be patient.

You would not go running to them.

Even if the thought of their rough hands and sharp grins made your Omega instincts shiver in something dangerously close to anticipation.

You weren’t like other Omegas. You never had been.

Growing up in a house full of Alphas had made sure of that. Your mother was one—strong, sharp, a force of nature. Your brothers, every single one of them, followed in her footsteps. Loud. Overbearing. Built to dominate a room.

The only other Omega in the house had been your father, but most days, he barely felt like one. He had raised your brothers with a firm hand, standing his ground in a way that never once felt soft or yielding.

So where did that leave you? The answer had always been painfully clear—nowhere.

You never fit. Never wanted to fit.

While other Omegas dreamt of warmth and safety, of being cared for and protected, you wanted none of it. The very idea of submission made your skin crawl. You had fought your whole life to stand apart from the expectation that came with being an Omega—to prove you could be more.

Yet now, stuck in this tiny town, with two massive Alphas sniffing around you like you were something meant for them…

Your body was betraying you.

Your instincts. Your biology. That stupid ingrained part of you that curled in on itself whenever Toji or Sukuna so much as looked at you a certain way.

You hated it.

Hated them.

Hated the way you could still feel Toji’s warmth at your side when he had taken the grocery basket from you. Or how Sukuna’s voice sent something shivering down your spine, no matter how much you fought it.

You would not let them win.

You had fought too hard to be your own person—to be more than what nature decided for you.

And you would not let two cocky, insufferable Alphas be the ones to unravel it all.

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