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pisstintedglasses · 2 months ago

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Lessons of Letting Go

Fem! Reader x P.SH

warnings: MDNI, "i can fix him" syndrome backfires, consensual underage sex, somnophilia, mentions of underage drinking, cheating, a quite heinous amount of fluff.

DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ

word count: 23.3k

Playlist for whilst you read:

A Thousand Years - Christina Perri'

You are The Reason - Callum Scott

Paper Rings - Taylor Swift

Claire de Lune - Claude Debussy

Don't Stop Me Now - Queen

"Get You" – Daniel Caesar ft. Kali Uchis

"Earned It" – The Weeknd

"Ribs" – Lorde

“Tangerine” – Glass Animals

"From the Dining Table" – Harry Styles

Chapter 1 of; Lessons Learned

The announcer's mic-amplified voice reverberated throughout the stadium as he revealed the scores of your opponent. Whilst she celebrated her relatively high score, clutching her fan-given plushie as she cheered with her coach, you fiddled with your fingers in an attempt to calm your anxious nerves. You were the last one to perform (thanks to your lucky hand when you pulled for the order of who performs), and all those before you exceeded each other's score each time, setting the standard higher and higher. And you were afraid you couldn't even just reach that same peak.

Your coach, Ivan saw your obvious discomfort, lending a firm and on your shoulder and shaking the bloody nerves off of you. "Calm down, will you? You've done months of training, just as much and maybe even more than your opps did. You'll put up a fight."

Ivan was a 29-year-old, Russian, ballet coach. He and your sister were classmates in college, and she just so happened to tell Ivan about your new little profound passion about ballet. You were only 9 at the time, but when Ivan saw that youthful spark of passion flare from your rusty arabesques, he jumped at the opportunity to shape your ember. Shape your talent into skill. And that, he did.

He streamlined your passion and made you into a decent dancer. Decent enough to win a couple regional-level competitions. Trophies of gold, silver, bronze from said competitions adorned your glass-encased achievement shelf. (Which your mom insisted to have built). Your parents were quite content with all your milestones, be it big or small. But you weren't. It pissed you off to no end that you couldn't go beyond the regionals.

One not-so-faithful day, on your last competition as a pre-junior, thoughts about how you have to win this consumed your better judgment. You couldn't focus at all. You kept throughout your entire routine, and it frustrated you to no end. And on the last Fouette that was supposed to be the cherry on top of your performance, your feet hit one another and leave you to come undone in a clumsy, crying mess.

With your heart feeling like it's caught up in your throat, you covered your tear-stained face and ran off stage right as your song ended. And so did your career. That competition had 9 finalists, and you ranked LAST. You couldn't even bare attending the awarding ceremony. You publicly embarrassed yourself out there, and especially now at your ripe pre-pubescent years, you knew your peers would be whispering among themselves about how dramatic you acted or how shitty your performance was. It was horrific. And just like that, what was once the spark that lit your dreary Mondays turned into to one of the most socially, emotionally, and mentally traumatic events of your life. So, in an attempt to cope with it, you pushed it away.

Anything related to dance, your old friends, Ivan. You wanted nothing to do with it anymore. You were already unraveling thread by thread, your fervent spark of ambition was being pulled away by the seemingly unreachable pinnacle, that is, the Nationals. Childish, or perhaps as arrogant as it may sound, you knew you had what it takes to get there, but your just somehow can't. And you don't know what's stopping you. You've blamed Ivan, for not teaching you enough, but you knew deep inside you wouldn't have gotten to the level you were at without him.

After coming to a consensus with your parents, they let you quit the team, and sent you to the studio to pick up your things while they handled the resignation letters. You were grateful they never pushed you to do anything. They saw that ballet became toxic for you and they didn't even hesitate to let you leave when you saw fit. Anyway, they drove into the studio's parking lot and headed for your head manager's office, in order to deal with the paperwork. It was nighttime now, so you presumed all of the others would have gone home.

So, you didn't expect to find him here. Ivan.

The studio was supposed to be empty. Late enough for the lights to be dimmed, the floor to be cold beneath your feet, the mirrors to stop echoing back the dancer you used to be. But there he was-Ivan-leaning against the far wall, arms crossed like he hadn't been waiting, but you both knew better.

You hesitated at the door, one foot still out in the hallway, as if you could still change your mind. As if walking away now would hurt less than what you were about to do.

"I'm done," you said.

Your voice didn't shake. It wasn't a declaration. It was just... a fact. Like gravity. Like something that had always been true, you just hadn't said it out loud yet.

Ivan didn't move. Not at first.

You didn't mean to say it like that.

But the words came out anyway, sharp and final.

"I'm done."

Your voice cracked a little, but you tried not to care. You didn't look at Ivan. You couldn't. If you did, you'd probably back down. You'd probably see that look on his face-that mix of confusion and disappointment-and swallow the words, like always. So you stared at the floor instead, at your busted old slippers with the frayed ribbons and the tiny bloodstain near the toe. You hated those shoes. And you loved them. And you hated that you loved them.

"You're quitting?" Ivan asked. His voice wasn't loud or angry-it was just quiet. Tired, maybe. Like he already knew.

You nodded, even though your hands were shaking.

"I can't do it anymore," you muttered. "I just... I don't want to."

That wasn't the truth. Not really. You did want to dance. You wanted it so bad your chest hurt. You wanted Nationals. You wanted the stage, the lights, the moment. But lately, it felt like the more you wanted it, the further it slipped from your hands.

Ivan didn't say anything at first, and that made it worse.

"I've been trying," you blurted. "I've been trying so hard. But it's like I'm stuck. Everyone's getting better and I'm just... here. Still making the same stupid mistakes. Still forgetting the same stupid counts. Still losing balance like a baby."

Your throat burned.

"I'm supposed to be good, right? That's what everyone says. 'You've got talent, you're a natural, you'll make it someday.' But what if they're wrong? What if I'm not enough?"

You finally looked at him. His arms were crossed, his jaw tight-but his eyes were soft. Too soft. You hated that.

"I thought you'd help me get there," you said, barely above a whisper. "I really did. But maybe you didn't teach me enough. Or maybe you thought I could figure it out on my own. But I couldn't. I can't."

Ivan stepped closer, but you took a step back.

"I'm twelve, Ivan," you said. "Twelve. I'm not supposed to feel like a failure already."

There was a silence after that-heavy, like the walls were pressing in. You wiped your nose on your sleeve, trying to be tough. Trying to not cry like a little kid. But everything was just... too much.

You thought he'd yell. Or say you were being dramatic. Or lecture you about dedication and drive and how quitting now would ruin everything.

But instead, he just looked at you, like he saw through all of it.

"You're not a failure," he said quietly.

You didn't answer. You didn't believe him.

Because right now? You didn't feel like a dancer. You just felt... small. And tired. And really, really lost.

He stood closer now, arms cautiously extended to his sides to offer a much-needed hug, which you've gladly accepted. You let yourself soak his leotard as you clung to him. "You've accomplished so many things-"

"Well I didn't accomplish enough! And I never will! Now that I blew my last pre-junior performance, I don't think people will take me seriously as a junior!"

He sighed and wrapped his arms around your shaking shoulders. "Would it be too soon for me to suggest figure skating?"

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Now, stood you in one of the biggest ice skating competitions of your time, regionals, once again. The nationals are just at arms-length, so you knew deep within yourself you couldn't afford to pass this up. You dare not waste the 3 years Ivan has spent building you back up, this time, on the ice. You've done well in the short program, all you had to worry about now was the free skate. No longer clad in those painful pointe shoes, those itchy tutus, no. You sported a fresh, tight yet comfy, baby blue leotard that helped in boosting you confidence, paired with your favorite pair of blades-gifted to you by your sister.

The familiar vowels of your name ware called, summoning you to the spotlight, and claim the stage (rink) as your own. Breathing in the mint-scented air deeply one more time, you stepped onto the ice and glided along the sides, plastering a genuine smile and greeting those who cheered for you. The deafening clamor of the crowd's applause breeched your ears, you almost missed the first few notes of your song. The audience definitely did, though, as it seemed their hoorahs only grew louder at the sound of your performance starting.

You began to dance your prepared choreography upon hearing the calming voice of your designated piece for today-Christina Perri's "A Thousand Years." A sweet song whose melody harmoniously matched your performance. Innocent, almost fragile, your jumps were on beat with the cadence of the guitar, cello, and piano instrumental.

It wasn't just the soft melody that resonated with your performance; it was the lyrics as well. The words, "I have died every day waiting for you," seemed to echo in your heart as your body glided effortlessly across the ice. It was as if each movement was a reflection of the years of dedication, the countless hours of practice, and the quiet, unspoken devotion to your craft. Every jump, every spin, felt like a pledge of love to the art of figure skating itself-timeless and unyielding.

As the song built into the chorus, "I will love you for a thousand more," you could almost feel the embrace of the ice beneath you. It reminded you of the unspoken bond between skater and ice-an eternal connection that exists beyond the fleeting moments of each performance. The melody wrapped itself around you like a gentle, yet powerful force, urging you to give everything, to pour your soul into every movement, just as the song's lyrics spoke of eternal love.

You've always loved this part of figure skating, the cold air and ice beneath you enveloping your body and soul in this tranquil trance that helped keep your mind at ease. It was never like this with ballet. All you could feel in ballet was the sweat that would always pool at your back at the tremendous pressure of the spotlight and stares that settled on you on that non air-conditioned stage. The fans were usually directed at the judges as if they were the ones breaking their bones just to properly execute a Cambre. You never felt like that with your new love.

Figure skating, much like love, is about vulnerability-about trusting your body to carry you through difficult lifts, delicate landings, and dizzying spins, even when the odds seem insurmountable. The lyrics of "A Thousand Years" aligned with the very essence of what you felt skating on the ice: a love that transcends time, a passion that refuses to be extinguished. It was not just a performance; it was a love letter to the sport, an expression of devotion and commitment. "I will love you for a thousand more," you whispered to yourself, feeling the music fill every corner of your soul.

With each passing note, you were no longer just performing; you were telling a story of love, loss, and hope-of pushing through adversity and continuing to glide forward, no matter the challenges. Every movement you made felt like a promise-just as the song promised eternal love, you promised to keep dancing, no matter how many years it took.

And with the instruments slowing down to halt, so did your performance, as you struck your final pose. You finally let out the breath you didn't even realize was being held in and opened your eyes. The flashes of the lights overhead flickered your gaze, making you squint a bit before bowing at the judges who bared the look of satisfaction, impressed expressions. White roses and Frolass plushies were littered across the ice, which the staff has helped with gathering them all. You strode over to one of said plushies and hugged it close to your chest, giving the audience one final wave and bow if gratitude before you made your way off the ice.

Once your blades came in contact with the floor, you couldn't even get the chance to put your guards on them since Ivan sprung up to you and gave you one of the most genuine hugs he's ever given. "I told you you'd do amazing." You reciprocated the hug and pulled back, "You think the judges liked it?" Ivan scoffed, "Are you kidding? They looked entranced the entire time you were up there." The both of you couldn't help the proud smiles from spreading on your faces.

He guided you back to your designated seat where they filmed your reaction upon hearing your score, and he gave you a bottle of water, wrapping a jacket around you when he saw you shiver. You didn't notice it when you were still performing, but your hands were shaking from the cold. Well, you thought it was shaking just from nervousness. Not too long after, your family approached with proud smiles plastered on their familiar faces, already congratulating you with strings of praises regarding your performance.

A little girl passed by you, not too old-probably about five years younger than you. She was cheerful, skipping a little with each step as she clutched the hand of who you presumed was her grandmother. A middle-aged couple trailed behind, and next to them, a boy just slightly older than the girl, dressed in a striking figure skating outfit, clearly waiting for his turn on the ice.

Your heart warmed at the sight-there was something so pure about the quiet excitement of a supportive family. But then your gaze caught something else: a small red stain spreading across the girl's light shorts. You immediately recognized it. The judges take a while tocalculate the scores, so you decided to act on it.

You didn't think twice. You grabbed a pad from your bag, hid it under your jacket, and hurried towards her. Approaching gently, you quickly wrapped your jacket around her waist, discreetly slipping the pad into her pocket. Startled, the little girl stumbled back slightly, and her family froze, giving you confused, wary looks. You offered a small, apologetic smile, speaking in a hushed whisper, "I'm sorry to interrupt, but... she seems to have bled through."

The mother gasped softly, lifting the jacket to check-and sure enough, the growing stain was there. "Oh, dear," she murmured, her face melting into maternal concern. You gestured subtly to the pocket. "I slipped a pad in there... in case you need it." The mother quickly mouthed a "thank you" before hurrying the girl toward the restroom, the father and the boy following right after. You smiled to yourself, relieved to have helped, and turned to make your way back to the seating area where your parents were waiting-your performance long done, the adrenaline still buzzing faintly in your veins.

But a voice stopped you. "My, my," the grandmother called out warmly, making her way over. "You're not just a pretty girl-you've got a beautiful heart too!" You flushed, laughing shyly. "It was really nothing, ma'am. I know how embarrassing it can feel..." The grandmother nodded sagely, folding her arms over her chest. "Takes one who's been through it to understand. Kindness like that is rare, you know."

You smiled at her, a little bashful, but grateful too. Her gaze lingered on you a moment longer, her lips quirking mischievously. Then, leaning a little closer, she asked in a whisper, "Tell me, sweetheart... you're single, aren't you?" You blinked, caught completely off guard. "Um... y-yeah, I am." "Perfect!" she chirped, clapping her hands once with delight. She shuffled aside with a flourish-and only then did you notice that someone had been standing awkwardly right beside you this whole time.

The boy from earlier, the one in the figure skating costume. You had noticed him earlier when the men were called to warm up. His costume was a somewhat baggy blouse that faded from clear white into a very vivid and deep blue. It was a bit similar to yours, though much darker, it had the same ombre effect.

His head snapped up to meet your gaze at the same time you looked at him, both of you freezing like deer caught in headlights. "This here's my grandson," the grandma said proudly, patting Sunghoon's shoulder. "He's about to perform, actually. Talented, polite, good-looking-what more could you ask for, huh?" You stared, the realization hitting you a second too late. Sunghoon was stunning up close, even more so than you'd noticed before. His cheeks tinted the faintest shade of pink as he gave you a tiny, sheepish smile.

"I-uh, I'm Sunghoon," he said, voice soft but clear. He gave a small, polite bow despite the obvious embarrassment pooling around him. You managed to smile back, flustered but charmed, as you introduced yourself. "I, uh, already performed. You're up next, right?"

"Yeah," he chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. "Kinda hard to focus after that whole thing, but... thanks for helping my sister." His voice was earnest, sincere, and you felt the knot of nerves slowly unspool in your chest. "It was nothing," you said, laughing lightly. "Good luck out there." The grandmother beamed between the two of you, her matchmaking spirit practically radiating. "Maybe you can stay and watch him perform?" she suggested sweetly, not even trying to hide her intentions.

You met Sunghoon's shy, hopeful gaze-and found yourself nodding before you could even think twice. "I'd love to. Is he up next?" The grandmother shook her head, "Only two more boys and then it's his turn. Won't you stay until then?" You were about to nod when you heard your dad call out your name, calling you over to them since you score was about to be announced. In a haste, you excused yourself with the promise of coming back.

Your heart thrummed violently in your chest, Sunghoon long forgotten as your mind was swallowed whole by endless insecurities and what-ifs. What if it wasn't enough? What if you fell short again? Your hands trembled as your family wrapped you into a tight, protective hug, excitement buzzing around you like static in the air.

The announcer's voice finally crackled over the speakers, slicing cleanly through the tension. "For our final competitor in the Junior Women's division-"The world seemed to slow to a crawl. "A free skate score of 117.48 points! You felt your breath catch, stuck halfway between a gasp and a prayer. "Added to her short program score of 72.36, that brings her total to 189.84 points-" A heartbeat. Another. "-securing first place!"

Your family's cheers burst into the air around you, your sister practically shaking you in her arms. You stood frozen for a second, as if the words hadn't quite registered, before the realization slammed into you all at once.

You had won.

Cheers erupted around you, and you felt your heart soar, your dad lifted you in the air. The moment felt so surreal. Years of hard work and you've finally got what you wanted. All in an instant, it felt like a fever dream. One second you were being introduced to some cute guy, and you were a winner in the next. It's all happening so fast you couldn't believe it. It only took one look at Ivan's tear-stained face to have you let the waterworks loose too. Adrenaline and bliss thrummed throughout your veins as he spun you around. Amidst all the chaos, your eyes met Sunghoon's, who was looking at you with genuine astonishment.

Somewhere in the stands, you could faintly make out Sunghoon's family cheering too, his little sister jumping and pointing excitedly.

But right now, it was just you and the thundering beat of your heart, drowning in a tide of relief, disbelief, and a wild, soaring kind of joy you hadn't felt in years.

When he noticed your gaze on him, he hastily looked away. His mom and sister were back though, and they were looking over your noisy, still celebrating huddle as well. His mom looked over to the grandma for an explanation, which she gave. After being hauled around by your family taking pictures of you, you finally sought the chance to excuse yourself and do good on your promise to watch Sunghoon's performance earlier. Of course, your sister didn't miss the chance to tease you about it. And neither did your dad.

"Ooh, meeting boys already? Our little champion's all grown up," your dad teased, nudging you playfully with his elbow.You groaned, hiding your face in your hands. "It's not like that," you mumbled, but the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed you. Your sister gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. "Not yet like that, you mean." Your mom chuckled from behind the camera she was still holding. "Let her be. She's earned a little attention after today."

Ivan, who had been listening nearby, chimed in with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Just don't forget about us once you're famous and running off with handsome boys." That sent your whole family into another fit of laughter, and you swatted at the air in front of you, trying to escape. "I'm just going to watch his performance!" you insisted, voice climbing with exasperation. "Like I promised!" "Right, right," your dad said, exaggeratedly wiping a fake tear from his eye. "First it's watching performances... next thing you know, wedding invitations!"

"Dad!" you whined, your face burning hotter than ever. Your sister winked at you, clearly enjoying every second. "Go get 'em, champ." You shook your head, laughing despite yourself as you turned away, feeling their teasing gazes follow you all the way across the gym. Sunghoon's family beamed as they congratulated you on your win

"I knew your performance was something special. Sunghoon-oppa here couldn't take his eyes off you earlier-" Yeji, the girl you helped earlier, said brightly, but she barely got the words out before Sunghoon clamped a hand over her mouth, face turning an adorable shade of red. "Yeji!" he hissed in a hushed yell, his voice dripping with embarrassment. His nervous chuckle made their parents laugh, the sound light and teasing.

Sunghoon's mom smiled warmly at you, a fondness in her eyes as she looked between you and her son. "I hope Sunghoon gets into the nationals too," she said, voice gentle. "It'd be nice if the both of you won, right?" "It'd be the perfect excuse for a date," his grandma added mischievously, her tone playful enough to make Sunghoon visibly shrink into himself. "Halmeoni!" he groaned, dragging his hand down his face. You couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of you, nerves and flattery mixing into something light and giddy.

"It's okay," you said, smiling shyly at them all. "I think... just competing together would already be really special." Sunghoon peeked at you through his fingers, and when he caught your eye, he smiled too - small, genuine, a little shy around the edges. Yeji, now free from his hand, beamed. "You have to teach me how to be that cool when I compete!" Sunghoon's dad chuckled and asked, "How long have you been skating, if you don't mind me asking?"

You shifted your weight, thinking back. "Um... technically, not that long," you admitted. "I used to do ballet, actually, until about three years ago." "Really?" Sunghoon's mom perked up with interest. "Yeah," you nodded, a little sheepishly. "I kept trying to qualify for the ballet regionals, but... I never really made it past the preliminaries. I guess after a few years of that, I just felt like maybe my heart wasn't in it anymore. Skating kind of... gave me a second chance at something I really loved."

"You must have worked really hard," Sunghoon's dad said, sounding genuinely impressed. "I still have a long way to go," you said quickly, laughing a little. "But it feels different this time. Like... even when I lose sometimes, I want to keep trying." Sunghoon, quiet until now, spoke up, his voice softer, thoughtful. "That's really cool. I mean it." You looked over and found him smiling at you again - properly this time, without hiding - and the way his eyes crinkled just slightly at the corners made your heart skip.

"You're already amazing," Yeji chimed in enthusiastically, tugging at your sleeve like you were an old friend. "I'm gonna cheer for you both at nationals!" Sunghoon's grandma patted your shoulder warmly. "You're part of the family cheering squad now too, dear. You better get used to it." Everyone laughed, including you, and for a moment, standing there with them, you felt something settle in your chest - a sense of belonging, easy and bright.

A few minutes later, Sunghoon was finally called down for his performance.

(Refer to this performance of hoonie if you want any visual aid lmao. for the sake of the plot, however, we are gonna ignore his actual rank in the video--- p.s. he did amazing here in this performance. ANOTHER P.S., this fanfic isn't too accurate on the times of hoonie's performances but alas, I am too lazy to redo it)

You hadn't expected to find yourself sitting here, bundled up among strangers who somehow already felt like family. After helping Sunghoon's little sister earlier, his family had insisted-no, insisted-you join them to watch his free skate. And you, still a little flustered and embarrassed, had agreed. Now here you were, heart thudding in your chest, watching the boy you'd only just met take the ice.

The lights dimmed slightly, and the familiar opening notes of the music drifted through the rink. It was a bright, soaring melody, full of lightness and energy-and somehow, it fit him perfectly. You leaned forward without meaning to, your breath catching as Sunghoon pushed off into his first glide.

Each movement was smooth, effortless, like water finding its path. His blades cut clean lines across the ice, turning with a precision that could only come from endless hours of practice, yet he made it look so natural, so easy. You couldn't tear your eyes away. His jumps were light, airy, as though gravity itself hesitated to pull him back down.

He was-

Beautiful.

Beside you, Sunghoon's little sister tugged your sleeve excitedly.

"Isn't he cool?" she whispered, her voice bubbling with pride.

You nodded quickly, a small, breathless laugh escaping. "He's amazing. He moves like... like the music was made just for him."

You turned your gaze back to the ice just in time to catch Sunghoon launching into a jump-a perfect triple. He landed so cleanly you barely heard the blade hit the ice. The melody picked up, playful and bright, and Sunghoon matched it effortlessly, his movements light and joyful without ever losing the grace that came so naturally to him.

His mom smiled at that, her eyes warm.

"He's always been good at feeling the music," she said softly. "Even when he was just a little boy. We'd put on anything, and he'd just start skating around the living room, pretending it was a rink."

"He makes it look easy," you murmured without thinking.

You ducked your head quickly, face burning, but couldn't help smiling.

Sunghoon's dad chuckled warmly.

"That's the trick. He's spent years making it look that way."

His grandma leaned in closer, her voice teasing.

"Maybe he's showing off a little more today, hm? After all... there's someone new in the crowd."

The music swelled into its chorus, and Sunghoon moved with it as if his body had been designed to echo the sound. Every turn, every extension of his arms felt right, like he wasn't just skating to the melody, but was the melody. You could feel his energy even from here-the quiet determination, the bursts of joy, the fierce concentration beneath it all.

The music softened into its final notes, and you turned back just in time to see Sunghoon finish with a quiet flourish, one knee touching the ice, head bowed. For a moment, the rink was silent except for the soft scrape of his blades slowing to a stop. Then applause erupted-and you were on your feet before you even realized it, clapping hard enough that your palms stung. Around you, his family cheered and whooped, but your eyes stayed locked on him.

Sunghoon straightened slowly, lifting his gaze toward the stands-and for a brief, dizzying second, it felt like he looked straight at you. Your heart somersaulted, your hands still clapping even as you forgot how to breathe. It was the kind of performance that made you fall in love with skating all over again. And maybe-just maybe-with the boy who made it look like flying.

He finally glided off the ice, going to the same seat where you were earlier. The 2 other boys who went before him gained a relatively high score, but you knew from the masterpiece you were just blessed with, he had a huge chance to win. Actually, you were praying on it. If he really did get to win, the two of you would get to go to the nationals together. You watched from afar as he heaved. All those jumps must have rendered him exhausted.

His family began to head to him, so they can check in, with you in tow. Though, it was still going to be a while before his score gets announced so you knew you had time. You passed by your family and quickly introduced them to one another first, just to get them acquainted and to let them know who you were walking with. Of course, praises for Sunghoon erupted from them as well. You've just come to terms with your attraction for the boy but it seems like he's already won the favor of your immediate family. Including Ivan.

Your seats were near the "hot seat" as you would call it, so you opted to just have the Parks sit next to your family, that way they'd be close to Sunghoon without having to stand the entire waiting time while the judges evaluated. After what felt like an eternity, the commentators finally revealed his score.

The announcer's voice crackled through the speakers, snapping you out of your daze. Everyone around you leaned forward instinctively, waiting for the numbers to flash onto the giant screen. You found yourself holding your breath without even meaning to.

"And now, Park Sunghoon's score for the free skate..."

The screen flickered, and then the numbers appeared in bold, glowing print.

"He receives 154.26 points for his free skate-"

There was a small gasp around you-his family clutching each other's arms in excitement, his little sister nearly bouncing out of her seat.

"...for a combined total of 233.75 points!"

Your hands flew up to your mouth, hiding the huge grin breaking across your face.

"Oh my god," you whispered, half laughing, half breathless.

"He did it!" his sister squealed, grabbing your sleeve and shaking it.

Sunghoon's dad let out a booming laugh, clapping his hands together.

"That's our boy!" he said proudly, his voice thick with emotion.

You could hardly take your eyes off Sunghoon, who was smiling on the monitor, bowing politely before flashing a quick, bashful grin at the camera. He looked overwhelmed, relieved, proud-and somehow still so humble despite the incredible score. Leaning closer, Sunghoon's grandma teased in a low whisper, "Better start practicing how to answer interview questions. They're gonna be calling him a national treasure soon."

His mom brushed away a tear with a soft chuckle.

"He worked so hard for this. He deserves every point."

And somewhere deep inside, a small, secret wish stirred:

You laughed, heart thudding with pride that felt far too big for someone you had only just met. But somehow, it didn't feel strange at all. Watching him stand there, practically glowing under the spotlight-you were just... happy. And honored.

Happy to have witnessed it.

Honored to be part of it, even in this tiny way.

Maybe this wasn't the last time you'd be cheering for Park Sunghoon.

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The trip to another country was nice. New, but nice. Especially when a really cute guy (who is your boyfriend now) is sat next to you the entire plane ride with his head perched on your shoulder. To say you felt excited was a total understatement. You were fucking estatic. You bagged first place AND a total cutie? Honestly, the plane could have crashed but you still would have had a smile on your face.

Anyway, it's been 4 months since the regionals, during that time, Ivan and Sunghoon's coach arranged multiple joint training sessions among the two of you, the rationale being that both of you were representing the country anyway, so might as well see and know each other's routines. Maybe even help each other out and develop into partners.

And that's exactly what happened.

Every few days when your parents came to pick you up from the rink, his family would invite yours to their house to have dinner and vice versa. Everyone got acquainted quickly, and so did you and Sunghoon. Two months into practice, he told you to dismiss your parents from picking you up that day. Reason why? He wanted to walk you home. You still remember every detail from that walk so vividly.

The air was crisp, and the leaves were a cool shade of orange, since it was already fall. You're beginning to get the impression that Sunghoon had a very particular reason why he seemed hellbent on taking you home today. At first, you thought it was just because he was tired of being constantly teased and pressured both his parents and yours to get together with you, but the more you observed him that day, the more you realized he looked like he had something he wanted to say. His mouth kept opening and sharply sucking in a breath, as if he were preparing to give a speech, but alas, no words came out of his mouth.

It was a habit of his. A shy, timid boy who only gets loud with his sister. He was a man of a few words. Always twiddling with his thumbs, back slouched. Clearly not too confident in himself. You noticed this from the very first time you met, all the way back at the regionals' free skate. Whilst all the other participants flaunted even during just their warm-up with the stance and expression of confidence, he prepared meekly.

You always wondered why he was like this. To you, he has every right to parade himself, albeit you're glad he doesn't. He has the looks and talent, yet he seems to be so insecure. Opting to let someone else do the talking for him, in fear of being judged for something he'd say wrong. You wanted to change that. Help him get out of his shell and realize that he's fucking beautiful. That he has nothing to be afraid of.

You've only over seen him at ease sporadically; when he's with Yeji, when he's alone, and when he's on the ice. If only he could come to grasp how ethereal he looks when he's in his element. When he's not constantly thinking about what others have to say about him. You thought this way too, back when you were still in ballet, and it was NOT a healthy mindset. You learned that letting go of other peoples' hearsay was the key to living a happy life, ESPECIALLY as a teenager. As the saying goes; Ignorance is bliss.

As you finally got your spatial awareness back, you noticed you were already in your neighborhood. And you must admit, your curiosity of what Sunghoon wants to say was gnawing at you, since your time together for the was already close to being cut short. Looking over to the boy, he met your eyes, since he's been looking at you the entire walk, looking for a good opening to start his spiel. His head immediately turned upon being caught staring, stammering a small "sorry" as his ears flushed a nice hue of pink.

You stopped in your tracks, your gaze fixed on him with a hint of curiosity and suspicion. His flustered expression, the way he kept stealing glances at you-was it possible? Could he actually like you, too? Your thoughts began to race, but before you could process anything further, Sunghoon froze, his eyes widening slightly as he realized you weren't walking beside him anymore.

He slowly turned around, face now a deep shade of pink, and stammered, "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" He trailed off, his voice faltering as he tried to form an excuse.

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms loosely in front of your chest, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "Sunghoon," you started, your voice playful yet laced with an edge of curiosity. "We've been walking for so long now. And I know you want to say something. So... just say it already."

Sunghoon shifted uncomfortably, his gaze flickering to the ground before he let out a nervous laugh. "I-uh," he began, trailing off again. The usual habit of his, always hesitant, always careful with his words, was in full force. You could see the way his fingers fidgeted at his sides, like he was gathering the courage to speak but wasn't quite sure how.

You took a step closer to him, giving him a reassuring smile. "Sunghoon, you don't have to be nervous around me. Just tell me what's on your mind."

For a moment, he looked at you, as if weighing the decision, before his mouth opened again. This time, the words came out in a rush, his voice barely above a whisper. "I-" He hesitated, then met your gaze directly, his eyes serious now, "I've been thinking about this... about you, actually." He took another breath, his voice trembling slightly, "I think... I think I might like you."

Your heart skipped a beat. The words hit you like a wave, pulling you under before you could take another breath. Sunghoon. Sunghoon was telling you that he liked you. Of all the things you thought might happen on this walk, that was the last thing on your mind.

You blinked in surprise, struggling to catch up to the moment. He... he liked you? You had always thought he was special, that there was something about him that set him apart from everyone else. But the thought that he might see you the same way? That was something else entirely.

"Really?" You managed, your voice softer now, as if you were trying to wrap your head around it. "You... like me?"

Sunghoon's face turned an even deeper shade of pink, his hands fumbling nervously with the straps of his backpack. "Yeah," he whispered, looking away, almost as if he were trying to make himself smaller, hiding behind the words that now seemed to weigh heavily on his shoulders. "I know it sounds sudden, and I-I didn't want to say anything at first. But... every time I see you, every time we talk, it just feels like I'm supposed to tell you. Like... like it's the right thing to do."

Your heart was racing, but you could feel your own body relaxing in response to his words. Something about the rawness in his voice made everything around you seem quieter, softer. For the first time, you realized that Sunghoon wasn't just the shy, awkward guy you always saw in practice-he was someone who, despite his quiet demeanor, felt things deeply. And he was letting you in.

You took a few steps closer to him, so close that you could almost feel the warmth of his nervous energy. "You don't have to apologize, Sunghoon," you said gently, placing a hand on his arm. "It's not sudden. And it's not wrong to feel this way. But I-" You hesitated, suddenly unsure of how to say what was on your mind, "I'm glad you're telling me."

Sunghoon looked at you now, his eyes wide, like he couldn't believe what he had just confessed. You smiled at him, a soft, comforting smile, letting him know you weren't judging him. "You don't have to hide anymore," you continued, your voice calm and steady, "You've got nothing to be afraid of."

His gaze dropped again, a nervous laugh escaping his lips. "I'm just... not good at this kind of thing," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "I've never been good at expressing myself. I guess I was always worried about saying the wrong thing, or not being enough." He paused, biting his lip. "But when I'm with you, it's different. I don't feel like I have to hide. Even if I mess up, you're just... you're just there, listening. And I've never felt that before."

You couldn't help but soften at his words, feeling a warmth spread through you. It was clear now-Sunghoon wasn't just shy because he was uncertain about his feelings for you. He was shy because, deep down, he didn't believe he deserved someone who saw him the way you did.

You moved even closer, until you were standing right in front of him, close enough to reach out and touch him. Your voice dropped to a whisper, as if you were sharing something deeply personal. "Sunghoon, you don't need to worry about not being enough. You are enough. You're more than enough. And you deserve someone who sees you for exactly who you are, without any fear of being judged. I like you. I've liked you for a while now, actually."

Sunghoon's eyes widened, his lips parting in shock, as if he couldn't believe what you were saying. His hands dropped to his sides, his shoulders relaxing in a way that was almost imperceptible, but to you, it felt like he was finally letting go of a burden he'd been carrying for so long. "You... like me?" he repeated, his voice barely audible.

You smiled softly, your fingers brushing against his arm gently. "Yeah," you said, "I like you. And I think you're incredible just the way you are. You don't need to be anything else. You've got everything it takes to be amazing, Sunghoon."

For a moment, the two of you stood there in silence, the only sound being the soft rustling of the fall leaves in the wind. Sunghoon's face softened as he looked at you, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He looked like he had just heard the most beautiful thing in the world, something he had been longing to hear for a long time.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for seeing me. I-I've always been so scared of what others might think, but with you... with you, it's different." He took a step closer to you, his voice barely above a breath. "You make me feel... okay. Like I'm not broken. Like I'm not something to hide."

You reached out, your fingers brushing his in a quiet, intimate gesture. "You're not broken, Sunghoon. You never were."

The moment stretched on, and for the first time, you could feel the weight that had been pressing on both of you begin to lift. The air between you felt lighter now, warmer. And in that quiet, fall evening, surrounded by the golden leaves, you realized something: this wasn't just a confession-it was the beginning of something new. Something both of you were ready for.

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The plane touches down in Hong Kong with a gentle jolt, and the air shifts in an instant. After four hours in the sky, you finally step foot on the ground of this bustling city. Your heart is pounding in your chest, a mix of excitement and nervousness flooding your veins. The competition is finally here, and you're about to face it head-on, but the thought of being here, so far from home, feels surreal.

Sunghoon is right there beside you as the plane's doors open, both of you standing in the crowded terminal. He's been with you this entire time, and the fact that he's not just here as your boyfriend but also as a competitor, somehow makes everything easier. The initial shock of being in a new city fades when you look at him, his familiar warmth grounding you.

He notices the way your eyes are scanning the chaos of the airport, and he nudges you gently with his elbow. "Hey, are you okay?" His voice is soft, concern lacing each word, and you give him a reassuring smile. "I'm fine," you reply, trying to mask the flutter in your stomach. "Just... this is a lot."

"I know," he says, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear, a gentle touch that makes your heart skip. "But you've got this. I'm right here." You nod, grateful for his support. The nerves don't completely disappear, but they're definitely easier to manage with him here. As you both make your way through the airport, Sunghoon's hand slips into yours, his fingers intertwining with yours in that comfortable, familiar way that makes you feel like you can face anything. The anxiety that's been gnawing at you slowly starts to lift with each step.

Then, from behind you, Ivan's voice cuts through the moment. "Oh, look at that," he teases, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm. "A couple of lovebirds, huh? Are we in Hong Kong for the competition or just here for a vacation?" His grin is all teasing, but there's a warmth in his eyes that tells you he's genuinely happy for you both.

Sunghoon rolls his eyes but grins nonetheless. "We're here to compete, Ivan, not go on a honeymoon." You grinned at his snide, lately, he's been able to joke and talk a lot more freely. It enlightened you, seeing him slowly breaking free of his laid-back inhibitions. Ivan raises an eyebrow, a smirk on his face. "Sure, sure. Whatever helps you focus. You two are the definition of 'couple goals.'"

You glance over at Sunghoon, who's already laughing, the lighthearted moment easing the tension even more. It's good to know that even though Ivan likes to tease, he's just as invested in you both succeeding here. But what catches your attention is Sunghoon's coach, who has been silently observing from the sidelines. He quietly chuckles to himself, shaking his head as if amused by the light banter between you and Ivan, but he doesn't speak. His quiet laughter is a soft reassurance, like he's acknowledging the bond you share with Sunghoon without saying a word.

As Ivan continues his teasing, you lean into Sunghoon, your heart a little lighter. "You know," you start, voice playful, "if you keep getting teased like this, you'll never focus on the competition." "Don't worry," Sunghoon says, his voice filled with warmth. "I'm always focused when you're around." He gives you that smile-the one that always makes your heart race-and you can't help but grin back.

"Let's just focus on winning this competition first, then we can talk about being 'couple goals' after, yeah?" you say with a wink, nudging him back. He chuckles, pulling you closer, his arm casually resting around your shoulders as you walk out of the airport. "Deal. But, for the record, I'll be cheering the loudest for you." And just like that, the nervousness fades completely. With Sunghoon by your side, there's nothing you can't handle.

The competition isn't until tomorrow afternoon, because Ivan wanted to get here early, for the sole purpose of having time to explore around first. So, after the four of you went and left your luggage at the hotel you were accommodated to, the coaches let you two roam around the city (whereas they stayed behind the two of you just a few meters distant).

The narrow streets of Hong Kong bustled around you, neon signs glowing overhead as a soft drizzle misted the air. You clutched your umbrella tighter while Sunghoon adjusted the strap of his backpack, glancing over his shoulder to make sure your coaches weren't too close behind. "They're literally stalking us," he whispered, flashing you an exaggerated look of horror.

You stifled a laugh. "They're just... protective," you said, watching your coaches pretend to examine a street vendor's wares while clearly keeping one eye on you both. Sunghoon leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Protective is checking in by text. This? This is tactical surveillance." You bit your lip to hold in a laugh. "At least they're letting us walk alone," you teased. "For now." He nudged you playfully with his shoulder. "Race you to the next corner before they put us on a leash."

"You're on," you grinned, and with a sudden burst, you darted forward. Sunghoon chased after you, laughing, both of you slipping between the crowds with your coaches shouting "Be careful!" somewhere behind. When you stopped, breathless and grinning under the flickering lights of a side street, he caught your hand without thinking. "You're crazy," he said, eyes sparkling. "You love it," you teased back.

He opened his mouth like he was going to deny it, but then just shook his head, smiling. "Yeah. I do." His fingers squeezed yours. For a second, the noise of the city faded. It was just you, him, and the thundering of your heart before tomorrow's big day. "You ready?" he asked softly. "For tomorrow?" You hesitated, but his gaze was steady, grounding you.

"I think... with you here, I am," you said. He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, looking a little bashful even as he did it. "Win or lose, you're already everything I admire." Before you could say anything, Ivan's voice rang out, startling you both. "Sunghoon! Five-minute break's over! Stretch time!"

You groaned, and Sunghoon laughed helplessly. "See? Tactical." As you made your way back toward the watchful eyes of your coaches, he whispered, "After you win, real date. No chaperones. Promise." You squeezed his hand once before letting go, feeling the silent vow linger between you. You would win tomorrow.

And Sunghoon would be waiting at the finish line.

After checking out this homey little restaurant, the 4 of you went back to your joint hotel room. The place you guys opted for was a bit expensive and fancy, so your coaches decided to just share the deluxe family room. It was beautiful there. 4 single beds, an adorable dining set just a few feet away from the beds, a fridge filled with complimentary snacks, a big ass bathroom, and a cute balcony that gave you a good view of the city.

"Whew, I am drained! You two shouldn't have run around earlier, you better not get sore right before the competition!" Ivan scolded, dramatically jumping into his bed with an exasperated groan. "Geez, we aren't old, Ivan, we don't get cramps as easily as you do." Sunghoon snickered as his coach feigned offense. Ivan could only roll his eyes at your mock, "Okay, okay. But on a serious note, you kids should rest up. Tomorrow's the big day."

You dismissed him with a nod, peering into the fridge and investigating it's contents. Oh! "Sunghoon-ah! There are some tiramisu bites here!" His eyes lit up upon the mention of his favorite dessert, "Really? No way!" He was already sticking his head into the fridge, hands already grabbing a piece, making you giggle at his eagerness. "You really like that stuff huh?" You say as you grab a piece of your own and some cheese flavored chips you bought from the convenience store earlier.

Oddly enough, the air-conditioner was positioned on the floor, right below his bed. He sat down right in front of it to refrain from sweating too much, after all, the weather here in Hong Kong is more humid than what you were used to in Korea. You settled down next to him, tearing both packets of the tiramisu and the chips, switching bites from the two snacks to avoid getting sick of the other one immediately.

The night had fallen silent, the usual hum of the city lost to the thick walls of the hotel room. The soft glow from the bedside lamp illuminated both of you as you sat on the edge of the bed, your legs crossed beneath you, staring at the floor. Sunghoon was quiet, his hands resting in his lap, fingers occasionally fidgeting with the fabric of his pants. The weight of his silence seemed to hang in the air, and it wasn't the usual comfortable quiet between the two of you. No, this was different.

You could feel his thoughts racing, the burden of something he was holding back. It wasn't like Sunghoon to be so closed off. Usually, he was the one who could make light of any situation, flashing that radiant smile that made everything feel easier. But tonight, he was distant. Something about the pressure of the competition seemed to have cracked open a part of him that he hadn't shared with anyone.

Finally, after a long pause, his voice broke the silence. It was softer than usual, quieter, almost as if the words themselves were hesitant to leave his mouth.

"You know," he started, his eyes focused on the floor as if searching for the right words. "When I first started skating, I was one of the only boys who joined. The rink was mostly filled with older girls. They were so... well, they were so different from me." He paused, his hand slowly brushing over his face, as if trying to erase the memories that were starting to resurface. "I was just a kid, and they... they never included me in their conversations. I'd watch them huddle in groups, laughing and talking about things I didn't understand. And I just... I stood there, feeling so out of place. I guess I just wasn't one of them."

There was a certain vulnerability in his voice that you hadn't heard before, a crack in his usual confidence. He didn't seem like the Sunghoon you knew, the one who walked through life with an easy smile and a confidence that could light up the room. This was something deeper. You could feel his pain in the quiet between his words.

"It wasn't just the silence," he continued, his voice growing even quieter. "They would snicker, and I could hear them whispering when I wasn't looking. 'What's he doing here?' 'He'll never make it.' I think... I think that's why I started closing myself off. I just didn't want to be the odd one out anymore. I didn't want to feel that way ever again."

You could see the sadness in his eyes now, something raw and unspoken that he was only just revealing to you. Sunghoon had always been a bit of a mystery when it came to his past, but this moment, this quiet honesty, was unlike anything you'd expected. He had always been strong, but this was his vulnerability - the part of him that had been shaped by those years of feeling alone.

For a brief moment, the room was still. You could feel your heart tugging for him, understanding more than ever why he had become so introverted over the years. The isolation, the judgment, the teasing - it was all still there, lurking in the back of his mind. But he wasn't just the shy, quiet boy anymore. He was Sunghoon - strong, talented, and capable of so much more than he realized.

"You know," you began, your voice steady, but your gaze filled with empathy, "none of that matters anymore. Fuck those girls, Sunghoon." Your words were sharp, but they were laced with all the conviction you could muster. "Don't mind what anyone has to say about you. They didn't know you. They didn't see the real you."

You shifted closer to him, placing a hand gently on his arm, meeting his gaze with nothing but honesty. "You're perfect just the way you are. You're more than enough. And if they couldn't see that, then that's on them. It has nothing to do with you. You're here, you've worked so hard to get here, and you're going to keep getting better. Don't let their judgment stick with you."

For a long moment, Sunghoon remained still, absorbing your words. His gaze softened as he looked at you, a quiet breath escaping his lips as though the weight of his past had been momentarily lifted.

"You're right," he said quietly, his voice barely a whisper. "It's just hard to forget sometimes. You know, when you've been carrying something like that for so long..." You gave him a gentle smile, squeezing his arm reassuringly. "I get it. But you're not carrying it alone anymore. Not with me. You never have to carry it alone."

Sunghoon's lips curled into a small, appreciative smile, his eyes glistening a bit, though he quickly blinked it away. The distance between you two had closed in that moment, a bond forged not just through words but through understanding. He may have been scarred by his past, but he was no longer alone in facing it.

And for the first time in a long while, Sunghoon allowed himself to believe it. To believe in the people who truly saw him - not as the shy, isolated kid on the ice, but as the incredible person he had become. The person who deserved every bit of happiness and success that was waiting for him.

There, the both of you collapsed into laughter as you shared embarrassing stories with one another, wiping some of the tiramisu's cream on each other's noses and cheeks, and basically just cuddling with one another. You didn't even notice that your hands were intertwined with one another, but when you did, your eyes snapped to his. He was looking at you once again, this time with that beautiful smile of his etched onto his face.

The hum of the air-conditioner filled the small hotel room, a low, steady noise that somehow made everything feel even quieter between you two. You sat side by side on the floor, your knees brushing lightly now and then, switching bites between the tiramisu and the chips, laughter still lingering from earlier. Every so often, you'd catch Sunghoon sneaking glances at you - not the playful, teasing ones he usually threw your way, but something softer, something that made your heart stutter in your chest.

A smear of cream clung stubbornly to the corner of his mouth. "Hold still," you murmured, leaning closer without thinking. You wiped it away with your thumb, only realizing how near you were when you felt his breath against your skin, warm despite the cool blast of the air-con. His hand instinctively found yours again, your fingers tangling together without hesitation this time. Your laughter died down into a tender, stretched-out silence. The humid air wrapped around you both, and it was almost too easy - too natural - when you both started leaning in.

At first, it was tentative, the space between you narrowing second by second. You caught the way his eyelashes fluttered shut just as your noses brushed. A soft, uncertain breath escaped your lips - and then you closed the last bit of space. The kiss was featherlight, like the both of you were scared to press too hard, scared to shatter the fragile, perfect thing that was happening. He pulled back just slightly, enough to search your eyes, a small, almost disbelieving smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Finally," he whispered, voice low and a little shaky. You couldn't help but laugh under your breath, giddy, your forehead resting lightly against his. And for that moment - no coaches, no competition, no pressure - it was just you and him, and the sweet, dizzying feeling of falling into something you both had been tiptoeing around for far too long.

Your moment stopped when you heard the click of a camera. Your heads turned to Ivan, who had his phone out, mischievously grinning at his screen. "Ooh, I'm gonna send this to your sister." He taunted, earning a scoff from you, "You wouldn't" you challenged, now glaring daggers at the man whose fingers dangerously hovered over your sister's instagram icon.

"Hate to ruin your moment there, but you two should get ready for bed already." Sunghoon's coach tittered a laugh, nudging towards the darkening night sky that was visible from the balcony. Reluctantly, the both of you pulled away from each other as you silently agreed on who gets bathroom privileges first. It was you.

So, after quickly grabbing your hygiene kit and some pajamas from your bag, you headed into the bathroom and immediately switched on the tap and the shower, trying to make much noise as possible to cover the squeal you were about to make. OH MY FUCKING GOD THAT WAS MY FIRST KISS. The realization has just dawned you. You just kissed Park fucking Sunghoon. Of course, you're a new couple, so it took you 2 whole months to finally get a kiss in.

You were jumping around the bathroom as you watched your reflection from the corner of your eye. Your face was flushed, grin unable to be wiped off. You felt more mature then. You felt like a woman. "We can hear you, you know!" Ivan's voice rang from outside, making you sigh out in frustration. "Let me celebrate my first kiss in peace, dammit!"

Little did you know, Sunghoon was just as happy as you were, if not more. As you hurried into the bathroom, he leaned back on the bed, his eyes half-closed as the rhythm of his racing heartbeat filled his ears. Every thud felt like a drumbeat in his chest, strong and urgent, echoing the excitement that had taken root inside him since you'd stepped into his life. It wasn't just the rush of competition - it wasn't even the thrill of winning or the anxiety about tomorrow's big event. It was you.

He couldn't stop the smile that tugged at his lips, no matter how hard he tried to keep it in check. The joy you exuded, the little sounds you made as you moved around the bathroom, all of it made him feel like he was floating. It was a feeling he hadn't anticipated, something deep and powerful that surged up from the depths of his chest.

And then, just as he thought his heart couldn't possibly beat any faster, he heard it: your excited peals of laughter, muffled but still clear through the thin walls of the hotel room. Your happiness, your genuine, unfiltered joy - it was contagious. It hit him like a tidal wave. He couldn't help but chuckle to himself, staring at the ceiling as if trying to gather his thoughts in the midst of this overwhelming feeling.

He felt on top of the fucking world. Like nothing could bring him down, no obstacle too large, no competition too difficult to face, because you were here. You were in his life. And right now, that was all that mattered.

For a fleeting moment, his thoughts turned inward, a small but growing realization settling in his chest like a weight he couldn't ignore. Maybe it was too early to say it out loud, but the truth was undeniable. He was already in love with you.

He felt it - deep in his thrumming heart, that undeniable, warm certainty. The way his thoughts always returned to you, the way he caught himself smiling at the thought of you even in the most mundane moments. The way your laughter still rang in his ears, even now, and how it filled the empty spaces inside of him in a way nothing else ever had.

His fingers absentmindedly traced the edge of the blanket, but his mind was a million miles away, caught in a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions that were only growing louder. It had only been a short time, but with you, everything just felt... right. More than right. Perfect. But when was the perfect time? He didn't want to rush it, didn't want to ruin this delicate, almost fragile moment between you two. It had to be special, the way everything with you felt.

As the minutes passed, and you continued your happy noises from the bathroom, he found himself lost in his own reverie, a soft smile still playing at the corners of his mouth. What was he even waiting for? Was there a perfect time, or was this it - now, in this moment, when everything felt right and the air between you two was thick with the unsaid but deeply understood feelings that had started to bloom between you?

Maybe it was the excitement and buzz for the upcoming competition, maybe it was the strange, charged atmosphere of the hotel room - but something inside him told him to hold onto this. To savor the joy, the uncertainty, the possibilities that lay ahead.

For now, he would wait. But deep down, he knew it wouldn't be much longer before he couldn't keep it to himself any longer. He would find the perfect time. And when he did, he wouldn't hesitate. He had to be confident in saying it.

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The bustling sounds of the city faded as you and Sunghoon stepped out of the cab and approached the entrance of Mega Ice, the indoor rink located in MegaBox. The nerves in the air were almost palpable as the crowd gathered around the venue, the buzz of anticipation rising with every passing minute. Today's event was just the short program for junior men and women, while tomorrow was the free skate. Two days of hell where you'll have to show all that you've got to the judges, the audience, and the cameras who were broadcasting everything to the world.

Sunghoon's eyes flickered to the sea of people, his shoulders tense under the weight of the situation. You could see it in the slight quiver of his hands as he adjusted the strap of his bag, his gaze lost in the magnitude of the crowd. He had always been calm in the face of competition, but today, something felt different. You could feel it in the way he moved, in the tightness around his eyes. The enormity of the event was sinking in, and his usual composure seemed to be slipping through his fingers.

You slowed your pace and walked alongside him, offering him a reassuring smile. You knew exactly what to do. "Hey, just remember... we've been preparing for this," you began, your voice steady, trying to match his unease with confidence. "You've worked so hard for this moment. All that training, all the hours on the ice, it's brought you here. And no one can take that away from you."

He sighed, his eyes still locked on the crowd, his breath coming a little faster now. "I know, but... I don't know. It's just... it's different today. The crowd is huge, and I can feel the pressure." He shifted his weight, clearly uncomfortable in the midst of the noise and chaos. "What if I mess up?"

You stopped walking for a moment and turned to face him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He glanced at you, his expression a mixture of doubt and exhaustion. "You won't," you assured him, your voice firm yet gentle. "You're not the type to mess up. You've got this." You smiled, giving him a playful nudge. "Look at you-you're practically made for this."

He let out a shaky laugh, but the tension was still there. "You make it sound easy."

"Well, it is," you said, meeting his eyes with a look of complete sincerity. "You've been skating for years. You've trained with the best. You're ready for this. And you've got me with you every step of the way."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting that. "And if you fall flat on your face, what then?"

You grinned, a playful gleam in your eyes. "I'll just make sure you catch me when I do."

The tension between you two slowly dissolved as he chuckled softly, the corners of his lips lifting. You could see the edges of his nerves softening, just a little. The thought of facing the crowd wasn't as overwhelming now. You stood there for a moment, both of you looking at the massive crowd in front of you, and then you turned to face him with more assurance.

"You won't fall, Sunghoon," you said, your tone lighter now, but filled with conviction. "But even if you do, I'll be there to pull you up. And I know you'll do the same for me."

He seemed to breathe a little easier at that, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "Thanks. You always know what to say to make me feel better."

You winked, giving him a thumbs-up. "Of course. But remember, you're not alone in this. No matter how big that crowd is, out there on the ice, it's just you. And you're going to crush it. I believe in you."

For the first time that day, he smiled fully, the smile that reached his eyes. It was a quiet moment, but in it, you both understood - the crowd, the competition, the nerves - none of it mattered. What mattered was the trust between you, the belief that you'd both give your best. And that was enough to settle both your hearts.

The men were called to perform first, ladies' second, so you stayed near the entrance to the rink so you could watch him up close, Ivan and his coach on either side of you, almost biting their nails in anticipation. Sunghoon was already called on the ice for their warm-up. Shrieks erupted from the audience when he took his jacket off in this cool ass mannner, and you couldn't help it, the action swooned you too.

Your heart raced-not for yourself, but for him. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the way he adjusted his suit one too many times. You knew what was coming, yet the nerves gnawed at you both. The atmosphere was electric and thick with anticipation.

After the boys were done warming up, Sunghoon and the rest left as one participant you recognized from videos you saw online centered, in front of the judges. The stage lights flickered to life, casting a warm glow over the entire venue. The hum of excitement from the crowd filled the air, creating a buzz that seemed to vibrate through the floor. You stood in the audience, watching Sunghoon as he prepped for his turn.

You had always admired how Sunghoon could stay composed under pressure, but tonight, something felt different. His usual calm was overshadowed by a quiet unease, the kind that was hard to mask, even for him. You wanted to reassure him, to tell him everything would be fine, but you could see the storm of thoughts swirling in his mind. His breath was steady, but there was a flicker in his eyes that betrayed his nerves. You could almost feel the tension in the air, the weight of the moment pressing down on both of you.

"Sunghoon," you said softly, as you approached him, "You've got this." You weren't sure if he heard you, but his gaze briefly met yours, and for a second, you could see a glimmer of gratitude in his eyes. His opponent was already done, and he was already up next. Then, without another word, he stepped forward, his movements graceful but deliberate. He was going first, and you knew that meant he had to set the tone for everything that followed.

The moment the music began, you held your breath. The stage was his, the spotlight an extension of his confidence. He moved with purpose, his body flowing through the choreography, his expression focused. But even as he performed with precision, you could feel the nervous energy radiating off him-like an electric current you couldn't escape. His every move was calculated, but there was an undercurrent of doubt, something beneath the surface that wasn't quite in sync with the rest of him.

You couldn't help but feel that rush of empathy for him. You knew what it was like to stand before a crowd, vulnerable and exposed. You had seen him go through countless rehearsals, pushing himself to the limit, always trying to perfect every move. Now, it was his time to shine, and yet, you could see the hesitation in his eyes. A split second of doubt-a fraction of a moment-but you felt it too.

Your heart clenched when he stumbled, just a slight misstep in his footwork. It wasn't major, but it was enough to make you hold your breath. The crowd didn't notice, but you did. His face shifted, just for a moment, as if wondering whether he should keep going. You wanted to shout out, to tell him that it was okay, that everyone stumbled sometimes. But instead, you kept silent, your fingers pressing together as if in silent prayer for him.

And then, just as quickly as it had appeared, the doubt disappeared. Sunghoon steadied himself, his eyes narrowing with renewed determination. His movements regained their fluidity, his form sharpening with precision. You could see the change, the way he refocused, pushed through the nerves, and turned what had been a potential mistake into a strength. It was like watching someone transform before your very eyes, finding their center in the midst of chaos.

As the final note echoed through the arena, you let out the breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding. Sunghoon stood tall, his posture straight, his expression a mixture of relief and satisfaction. His shoulders were no longer tense, and for the first time that night, he allowed himself a small smile. The crowd erupted into applause, but you knew that it wasn't just the performance they were cheering for-it was his perseverance, his resilience. You couldn't help but feel proud, not just for the flawless performance, but for the man he was becoming.

Various stuffed toys rained from the audience, some bouquet of flowers as well for him. Another thing you loved about figure-skating was how adorable and thoughtful the crowd usually is after a performance, giving these cute gifts to those they were rooting for. Sunghoon beamed at the audience, picking up those they have offered him with sincere gratitude.

You made your way to him as he stepped off the stage, his breath coming in steady waves, his eyes reflecting a quiet pride. Without thinking, you reached out, giving him a gentle tap on the shoulder. "You were amazing," you said, your voice full of sincerity. Sunghoon turned to face you, his usual stoic expression softened by the warmth of your words. There was a brief pause before he replied, his voice almost a whisper, "Thanks."

In that moment, you realized that it wasn't just the applause or the recognition that mattered-it was the small moments between the chaos, the understanding, and the connection you shared. No matter how many performances, how many challenges, you would always be there, cheering him on. The journey was just as important as the destination, and together, you were walking it side by side.

As Sunghoon caught his breath, you stood by him, offering the comfort of your presence. The night had been a reminder of just how much he had grown, not just as a performer, but as a person. There was so much more ahead of him, so many more stages to conquer. But for tonight, you would celebrate the victory of this moment-the one where he pushed past his fears and rose above them.

And as you both stood there, amidst the echoes of the crowd's cheers, you knew that this was just the beginning. Whatever came next, you would face it together.

He gave you one final nod of encouragement as his coach dragged him away to the hot seat. The scores were still being calculated as the 3rd competitor made his entrance, the music already garnering the audience's attention. Ivan lightly tugged on your jacket and silently checked if you were anxious or anything, but his tense shoulders relaxed when he saw you didn't look pained in any way whatsoever. I mean, how could you be alarmed when Sunghoon just inspired the living shit out of you. If anything, you felt amped up. You were certain his performance would make it into the top three, so you had to make yours would be just as good.

Minutes feel like hours whenever you're waiting for something to happen. It definitely applies to when you're squirming in your seat as you worry about your score in a prestigious competition since you're representing your fucking country. That's what Sunghoon was undergoing right now. There, in the hotseat with labored breaths, a sweaty ass and a white sheep plushie squished by his clammy hands.

The chill of the rink seeps through your jacket as you wait near the boards, skate guards clutched tightly in your hands. Your heart hammers against your ribs, the steady beat louder than the buzz of the commentators overhead. You can't take your eyes off the screen, your breathing shallow and uneven.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen," one of the commentators announces, voice slicing through the tense air, "the score for Park Sunghoon in the Short Program—"

You hold your breath.

Sunghoon's performance replays behind your eyes — the sharp precision of his spins, the fluid grace of every transition, the sheer command he had over the ice. It had been the kind of skate that pulled people to the edge of their seats, left them hanging on every movement. You know he deserves a spot in the top three. Still, anticipation claws at your gut, as if some unseen hand could still tip the outcome.

"Park Sunghoon, ladies and gentlemen, delivered a truly remarkable performance today," the second commentator chimes in, a note of awe in their voice. "A seamless blend of strength and elegance, especially in those final jumps. His precision is unrivaled, and it's no surprise that he's managed to capture the judges' attention with such a commanding presence."

Your pulse quickens at the praise. You can practically feel the energy in the rink shift as Sunghoon's score flashes on the screen. "Park Sunghoon scores 56.61 points, placing him currently in second place!" The crowd erupts into a wave of cheers and applause. You feel a rush of pride swelling inside you — he made it into second place. Just like you'd hoped. Just like he deserved. His performance had earned every bit of that ranking, and you can't help but beam. You're so proud of him. But as the excitement simmers, another feeling quickly rushes in to take its place: urgency.

You glance at the running order. Two more skaters, then it's the women's turn. Your turn. Watching Sunghoon climb the leaderboard doesn't just fill you with pride — it ignites something hotter, sharper inside you. I have to match that brilliance, you think to yourself. I have to step onto that ice and make it my own.

You think of the countless hours spent alone in empty rinks, the falls, the frustration, the quiet victories no one ever clapped for. The sharp sting of sore muscles after a long practice, the lonely moments when all you had was the sound of your skates carving through the ice. Every moment has led to this — a chance to show the world what you're made of. A chance to be seen. A chance to be remembered.

As the next skater finishes their performance, the nerves in your stomach twist even tighter. You want to be calm. You want to be composed. But the adrenaline is overwhelming, your breath shallow as you mentally prepare to step into the spotlight.

Sunghoon and his coach happily march back to you and Ivan, exchanging hugs and congratulations with to them. Such a sappy moment, yet it felt nice to tangle into the sticky sweetness before stepping into the cold abyss, that is finally performing for what you've aimed for since day one. Sunghoon's hand caressed your cold ones. Which is ironic since his hand was just as cold, but it helped warm you up nonetheless.

It was finally your turn. This is your moment.

Tonight, you promise yourself, you'll leave your own mark deep in its surface.

The familiar coldness of the rink nipped at your skin, but it wasn't the chill that had your heart hammering in your throat. It was the weight of everything you had worked for, everything that had brought you to this exact moment. The crowd's energy buzzed in the air, but you shut it out, focusing only on the steady glide of your skates across the ice as you made your way to the center.

Your body moved without hesitation, instinct guiding you as you struck your starting pose. The judges' eyes were locked on you — you could feel their gaze, but it wasn't fear that tightened your chest. It was something else. You were ready. You had to be. The music began, the unmistakable opening chords of "Don't Stop Me Now" blasting through the speakers, the energy of Freddie Mercury's voice filling the arena. "Tonight, I'm gonna have myself a real good time..."

For a second, everything else faded. The sound of your skates cutting the ice, the way the rink seemed to pulse with life — it all aligned. The song itself was a rush, a perfect match for the moment you had waited for. The kind of song that didn't just ask for you to perform but demanded that you pour every ounce of your being into it. You had no choice but to give everything you had.

Your costume caught the light as you moved — a sleek, form-fitting design that shimmered under the spotlights. The fabric was dark and mysterious, a deep, glimmering black with accents of gold that rippled as you spun. It reflected the tempo of the song, each motion sharp and confident, each movement drawing the audience in as if the performance itself was alive.

You moved across the ice with purpose, each glide more determined than the last. You remembered Sunghoon — not just the boy who had changed you, but the boy who had shared in your dreams. Together, you had promised to be winners. Together, you had built a future that seemed so possible, so real. The weight of those memories drove you forward. He had taught you how to fight for what you loved, even if he wasn't there with you now.

The music was building, your energy rising to match it. "I'm having a ball, I'm having a good time..." You could feel the audience, the judges — everything — pulling you in, urging you to give more, to push further. This was your moment. You weren't just performing for yourself anymore; you were performing for every memory, every person who had ever believed in you, every time you had doubted your worth. And yes, for Sunghoon too, in a way.

You spun, soaring through the air with a controlled grace, your body aligned with the beat of the song, the rhythm of the ice. Every jump felt lighter than air, every movement a declaration of everything you had fought for. And when you landed, the music hit its peak. You struck the final pose, chest heaving, your heart pounding not in fear, but in triumph. You had done it. You had given everything you had.

The arena erupted in applause. You couldn't help the grin that spread across your face as you skated a slow circle, the sound of your supporters cheering louder than anything else in the world. You looked up, catching sight of your friends in the crowd — and, of course, they were there, as always, holding a mountain of Pokémon plushies. Some were even tossing them onto the ice as they cheered for you, their excited shouts a joyful chorus. You scooped up one of the plushies, laughing softly, knowing that despite everything — the struggles, the pain, the growth — this was exactly where you were meant to be.

It felt liberating having to perform with all your might, and everyone seemed to appreciate it. Excitedly, you sped right through the eyes and straight at Sunghoon, jumping into his outstretched arms, sending both of you tumbling to the floor, the plushies you both were holding following suit. It's so cliche, but he made you feel all too giddy to the point where you don't care. Or maybe the adrenaline from the performance really got to you.

Your coaches cracked up at your antics, pulling you up and off Sunghoon by the arms. You just came to notice the random burst of screams that came from the crowd since you jumped into his arms, confused at the sudden sound, your eyes scouted the arena for an answer. Perhaps there was an intermission number or something that stirred the crowd awake. Your questions were answered when you heard the commentators laugh out, ""It looks like our performer's got some extra energy after that routine! What an adorable moment, everyone! Looks like we've got a little unexpected performance happening here as well!"

You blinked in surprise, your face flushing a deep shade of red. It hit you then — the crowd hadn't been screaming because of some random intermission number. They were cheering for you. For the way you had jumped into Sunghoon's arms like you were the lead in some cheesy rom-com. The realization made you both embarrassed and oddly elated at the same time.

Sunghoon chuckled softly, holding you close for a moment longer before he helped you back on your feet. His grip was steady, and the glint of amusement in his eyes only made your heart race faster. "Guess we're the show now, huh?" he teased, that familiar smirk playing on his lips. You gave a playful shove, still trying to gather yourself. "Shut up," you muttered, but there was no malice in it. You were laughing, your pulse still pounding with adrenaline. You had just given it your all, and despite the sudden awkwardness, you didn't regret a single second of it.

The applause didn't stop. In fact, it seemed to grow louder, a mix of appreciation and laughter from the crowd as they witnessed the fun, carefree moment you'd shared with Sunghoon. But you could hardly focus on that now — your eyes were still darting around the rink, scanning for your friends, your supporters, the ones who had always been there.

It was cliche, yet, but sometimes cliche felt the most real. And in that moment, with all the noise around you and the lights shining down, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be. With your heart still racing, you held onto that moment — and the plushies — for as long as you could.

Ivan eventually snatched you to the hot seat, your knees jerking as you hugged yourself in suspense. Why'd the judges always take so long in giving out ratings? It always just gives your stomach extra time to churn in and shrink itself. Your grip on Ivan's hand (which he offered for you to hold) steeled when the announcer's long awaited voice rang through the arena's massive speakers.

"And there you have it, folks, what a spectacular display of skill and grace! Let's see how the judges scored this remarkable performance." The first commentator's voice rings out, his tone full of admiration. You can feel the tension building as the second commentator chimes in."Indeed, an impressive show of precision and artistry. Now, let's get the official score. After a routine like that, it's anyone's guess where she'll land, but there's no denying the level of talent she's bringing to the ice."

Your heart pounds in your chest, and for a moment, it feels like everything around you fades as the numbers flash on the screen. You can't tear your eyes away from the display, holding your breath in the brief silence. "And the score is in!" The first commentator exclaims. "With a total score of 57.63, she secures the second-place spot in this highly competitive short program!"

A rush of emotion sweeps over you. Relief, joy, pride. You've made it. Your hard work, all the hours spent on the ice, and the moments of doubt — it all feels worth it. The applause from the crowd fills your ears, but it's the commentators' voices that hold your attention now. "Second place, folks, an outstanding achievement, especially in a field as competitive as this! It's clear that she's earned her place at the top. With the free program still ahead, anything can happen, but with a performance like that, she's definitely one to watch."

You can feel the warm glow of satisfaction spreading through you as your supporters cheer, their enthusiasm washing over you like a wave. You glance up at them, noticing the familiar faces, their smiles of pride and encouragement. But it's not just for them — this is for you too. You've pushed yourself further than you ever thought possible. The commentators' voices continue to echo in the background, but you're too lost in the moment to focus on anything else. You've made it this far, and you're determined to finish strong.

In the end, the two of you happily walked hand in hand, wearing matching grins and silver medals dangling from your proud chests. You've already told your parents about the win, and of course they were estatic. They actually already knew, since they were glued to the tv as to support from home. Your dad was crying when he picked up the phone, drawling about how proud the family is. As expected, your sister brought up the hug, but it was overshadowed by the good news.

That night, your coaches spoiled the two of you rotten by treating you to this really fancy restaurant as a reward, buying some soju and urging the both of you to take a sip or two. "Come on, you know you want to. I won't tell you parents, so don't worry about them finding out" Ivan urged an already open bottle to both yours an Sunghoon's glass. Giving one another a look of uncertainty, the two of you internally debated whether or not to do it.

But the moment Sunghoon cracked a smile, you did too, already grabbing the battle from Ivan and pouring nearly equal amounts into your glasses, clinking it together and downing the bitter, clear liquid that was so strong, you were gagging the rest of the night while Sunghoon asked for a couple more sips. This night was the start. Sunghoon's turning point.

❄︎⋆｡˚𓂃｡˚☃︎˚｡⋆❄︎⋆｡˚𓂃｡˚☃︎˚｡⋆❄︎⋆｡˚𓂃｡˚☃︎˚｡⋆❄︎⋆｡˚𓂃｡˚☃︎˚｡⋆❄︎

Years passed by in a blur, and now, you were 17, lounging in Sunghoon's bedroom as a random movie played on his laptop. The two of you has long gotten more and more comfortable with one another as you tried and experience more new things together. He bought you your first pet, you both went to your first unsupervised party together, and a lot more risque stuff. Both of you wanted to lead up to the actual thing with baby steps first instead of diving in headfirst and accidentally hurting each other in the process due to inexperience. So, you planned it.

Today, you were going through another first. Your first blowjob as a couple.

It began with a hand straying from his shoulder all the way to his thigh from beneath the blanket. Gentle caresses littered across his body until you saw a tent form. He was embarrassed from it, and tried to push you away, stammering a half-assed excuse to get you to stop, "D-don't look!" His demeanor only made you coo in his ear, "You don't want to, Hoonie?"

Your hand halted, waiting for him to push you away. One last chance to walk away, but when he didn't move, your hand flew right to his crotch. Pointer finger poking at the clothed peak of the bulge. He bit his lips, hands grabbing at the laptop to raise its volume to drown out the sinful noises he knew he was going to make. "The door is locked, right?" You asked, worried his mom might barge in on you two.

Was he able to process your question? No. Did he nod nonetheless? Yes.

Oh well, who were you to deny him of his pleasure when he obviously wants it, if his jerking hips were anything to go by. You continued palming at his erection, mouthing kisses all over his neck. Your bodies felt so hot, as if you were veiled by the warmth of your horniness, leaving you too feeling like your brains melted into a puddle of sinful desires. There was already a damp spot in his shorts, and he bagan to feel impatient.

Slipping a finger around the seam of his shorts and underwear, he pulled it off just enough to let his cock spring free. It slapped against your hand, making you retract it from the sudden feeling of touching a dick for the first time and him; sigh out in relief of feeling another hand touch his dick, even just for a split second. Your pussy fluttered when your hand made contact with the foreign...object?

Gathering enough courage, you reached for it again, feeling it twitch at your grasp, Sunghoon's already letting out silent moans. "What do I do..?" You ask eyes fully open yet not really looking at him. You were staring into nothingness as you imagined how your hand as his cock looked like under these sheets. "J-just wrap your hand around it and move it up and down.." He instructed, wrapping his hand around yours and guiding its movements.

You couldn't help but moan at the feeling of just his dick against your hand. His chest heaved as the pace of your hands quickened, "Baby, please-please.. talk.. I want to hear your voice." He breathed out. "W-what do you want me to say?" Twitch. "Anything, oh god, say anything, baby."

His voice was strained against his throat, head thrown back into the pillow. The muscles of his next were flexing, it looked so damn enticing. "Mm.. you look so hot right now Hoonie.." You say before you traced your tongue along the veins and Adam's apple on his neck. Whispering profanities, Sunghoon announced he was close. "Count for me..."

And so you did, counting down from three to one. And like some magic trick, he came on your command, cum spurting and wetting the blanket as he spasmed. His back arched, brows furrowed, mouth slacked. It felt like a blessing to get to see him orgasm. Because of your hand, not to mention.

Your lips crashed into his with a messy urgency, tasting your shared breath as your tongues slid against each other in a sloppy, desperate kiss. Every flick, every suck, felt like a continuation of what had just happened—raw and reckless. Your hand, still slick from the way you'd been stroking him moments ago, trailed off his spent cock, his cum clinging to your fingers. Instead of wiping it away, you reached for his hand, lacing your sticky fingers with his, letting the mess smear between your joined palms. Filthy, intimate, and perfect.

"How was it, baby?" you murmured against his kiss-swollen lips, voice dipped in smug satisfaction as you pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. They were glassy, half-lidded, the pupils blown wide with lingering pleasure.

He whimpered, actually whimpered, too fucked-out to form a real sentence. "It was... fuck, amazing..." His voice cracked, wrecked from moaning your name like a prayer.

You hummed softly, the sound low and pleased, vibrating from your chest. With a slow, languid movement, you nestled closer, laying your head over his heart, its thudding beats still racing beneath the surface of his chest. The rise and fall of his breathing began to sync with yours as your eyelashes fluttered closed. Wrapped in the sticky heat and the quiet aftermath, you allowed your body to melt into his, eyelids growing heavy, ready to drift off to sleep cradled in the comfort of his embrace.

You sighed, eyelids fluttering shut as his arm instinctively wrapped around you, cum drying on your tangled hands like a dirty little promise. The room was silent except for the soft sound of your breathing, still in sync, and the occasional satisfied exhale escaping his lips.

If you slept like this, stuck together and still covered in the aftermath, you didn't mind one bit.

"You definitely have to let me make you feel good too."

A smile found its way on your lips again, "Some other day, Hoonie."

And with that, the two of you slipped into dreamland, tangled against each other's limbs, movie long forgotten. The credit scenes were already showing at this point, when his door creaked open, revealing Mrs. Park. Had she walked in ten minutes earlier, she would've kicked you out immediately. Turns out the door wasn't really locked.

Fortunately, the sight that met her eyes was just her son and his girlfriend fast asleep as they innocently cuddled. She sighed, feeling her maternal senses take over her once again, turning the movie off and folding the laptop shut, closing the door as quietly as she could behind her so as to not wake you two up. Completely unaware that his son's dick laid flaccid, caged in your warm hands, hidden beneath the warmth of her freshly laundered sheets.

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The soft hum of the air conditioner was the only sound filling your room, aside from the subtle rustling of your sheets. The house was quiet—eerily so—but you weren't complaining. Your parents and sister were away for the night, some conference meeting they couldn't drag you to, and it had left the house blissfully empty. Yours. Yours and his.

Sunghoon sat on the edge of your bed, fingers nervously fiddling with the hem of his hoodie as he looked at you with that unsure, boyish glance he always gave you right before crossing a line. You knew that look. You welcomed it. "You sure?" he asked, voice just above a whisper, as if speaking any louder would shatter the fragile air between you. "That I can... try?"

You leaned back against your pillows, legs stretched out and bare, your shirt slightly oversized—his, actually—and hanging just low enough to be teasing. You tilted your head, smirking softly. "I told you, Hoon... my body's yours to figure out." His breath caught.

You could practically see the thoughts racing behind his eyes. He wanted to touch you—badly. Not just to get you off, but to learn. To explore. To study every sigh, every shiver, every sound he could pull from your lips. His fingers twitched where they rested on his lap. "You can experiment," you said again, a little slower this time, the weight of the words sinking into his skin. "Touch me. See what makes me feel good. What makes me melt. What makes me beg."

Sunghoon swallowed hard, and the shift in his posture was subtle—but telling. His hand finally moved, hesitantly brushing against your thigh, testing the waters. Warmth bloomed where he touched you, tentative but thrilling. "I wanna learn you," he murmured, his fingers splaying out slightly, stroking over your skin like it was sacred. "I wanna be good for you."

You reached for his hand and guided it further up, heart thudding in anticipation. "Then learn, Hoon," you whispered, breath ghosting across his cheek. "Use me." His cheeks flushed, and his hand trembled just a bit—but it didn't stop. It traveled. Down, in. Testing. Tasting. Exploring you with reverence and heat. And with the house so empty, with no one around to hear the sounds he'd draw out of you, Sunghoon let himself indulge

His fingers traced the hem of your underwear with a kind of focused awe, like he couldn’t believe you were letting him touch you like this—soft, slow, exploring, not rushing anything. You parted your legs for him without a word, giving him silent permission, and his breath hitched at the sight of you—barely dressed, spread out just for him, waiting.

“Tell me if I’m doing it right,” he whispered, voice hoarse, but his fingers were already moving. He slipped beneath the fabric, his touch featherlight as he finally cupped you fully, his fingers grazing your folds like you were the most delicate thing he’d ever handled. You bit your lip and let out a soft moan, hips twitching into his touch. “Keep going… You’ll know when you are.”

His jaw clenched, a flicker of pride flickering in his eyes. One finger dragged through your slick slowly, his eyes glued to your expression like it was his manual. He circled your clit once, uncertainly, then again with more purpose. Your breath hitched. “There,” you gasped, voice strained, and he immediately focused on it, his finger pressing just a little firmer, learning your rhythm, watching every reaction. “F-Feels good when you do that…”

Sunghoon licked his lips, completely entranced. “You’re so wet… fuck,” he muttered under his breath, a flush creeping down his neck. “Is that all from me?” You nodded, pulling him down into a kiss as he continued working his fingers in slow, exploratory movements. “All yours, Hoon. All because of you.” He groaned into your mouth, encouraged. Emboldened. He slid a finger into you carefully, eyes darting between your parted lips and the subtle arch of your back. Then another. Your walls clenched around him, needy and warm, and he swore softly again.

“God, you feel… amazing,” he whispered, curling his fingers ever so slightly, testing, watching. You gasped and gripped his wrist. “There. Just like that. Again—”. He obeyed immediately, curling again, hitting that spot that made you tremble. You moaned freely now, the sound echoing off your bedroom walls, shameless and hot.

He was getting better by the second—more confident, more curious. Your thighs trembled around his hand as he leaned in, voice low against your neck. “I wanna make you cum with my fingers,” he murmured, breath tickling your skin. “Let me? Please?” “Do it,” you whispered, dizzy with heat. “Make me yours.”

And that he did. Quickening the pace of his fingers as your hands desperately clawed on the sheets of your pillow. The pads of his fingertips reaching the all the good crevices in you, you swore you saw stars cloud your vision when you hit your peak. Sunghoon stood watch, keeping his hand in place, peering at the way you arch and spasm all because of him. He thought you looked so damn beautiful, with your sweat-stained face and neglected nipples perking through your shirt.

Without much of a thought, he leaned in and popped your clothed bud into his mouth, nipping and prodding at it with his tongue. His act made your cunt flutter and pulse, so he kept doing it. All you could do was mewl and tangle your fingers into his soft, black locks. You rode out your high, and when you finally completely got off, the feeling of immense drowsiness took over you once again. And it seems like it had Sunghoon in a chokehold too, as he collapsed onto you and tucked his face into the crook of your neck.

Your body was still humming, nerves frayed in the best way, as if every inch of your skin had been kissed with static. You lay there—limp, warm, sticky, and so unbelievably satisfied—while Sunghoon draped himself over you like a blanket, his breath fanning gently against your neck. His lips pressed a lazy kiss to your skin, then another, like he just couldn’t stop touching you, even if he was too exhausted to do more.

You chuckled softly, the sound barely more than a breath. “You good?” you murmured, fingers lazily carding through his hair, still a little damp with sweat. “I think I died for a second,” he mumbled against your skin, voice low and hoarse, but laced with a teasing kind of affection. “If that’s what death feels like, I don’t even wanna come back.”

You laughed, cheeks warm, your heart fluttering from more than just the aftermath. “Dramatic much?” “Dead serious,” he grinned, finally shifting to look at you, his cheek pressed against your shoulder. His eyes were half-lidded, sleepy and content. “You sounded so pretty… like you were made for me.”

Your stomach flipped at the honesty in his tone. You turned to face him fully, your noses almost touching now, the air thick with warmth and something deeper than lust. “Mm… You’ve got good hands,” you murmured, fingers brushing down his jaw. “I think they’re my favorite now.” “Oh yeah?” he asked, smirking faintly, thumb tracing slow circles on your hip under the blanket. “Wanna let me try more things next time? Take notes?”

You raised a brow, pretending to be serious. “You’re taking this science experiment thing very seriously.” “I’m a thorough learner,” he whispered, kissing your collarbone softly. “And I wanna know everything… like what kind of kisses make you melt, what kind of touches make you gasp—” “What words make me beg,” you added cheekily, and he chuckled, low and fond.

“Exactly,” he breathed. The silence that followed was comfortable, filled only with the sound of your mingled breaths and the soft creaking of the sheets as you both shifted to get closer. His leg tangled with yours. His fingers intertwined with your hand under the blanket—sticky, warm, and so gentle. “I like this,” you murmured, your voice growing sleepier. “Not just the… y’know, mind-blowing stuff. I mean this. You. Here.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple, barely audible but full of something unspoken. “Me too.” And then nothing else needed to be said. Because in that dimly lit room, beneath tangled sheets and the ghost of each other’s touch, everything already felt like a promise.

You didn’t know how long you’d been lying there—tangled up, limbs heavy, breath slowing—but neither of you made any move to separate. Sunghoon stayed draped over you like he was afraid you’d vanish if he let go, his leg slung lazily over yours, his face still nuzzled in the crook of your neck. You shifted a little under him, chuckling weakly. “If you keep breathing on my neck like that, I’m gonna start thinking you’re trying to wind me up again.”

He groaned softly, lips grazing your skin as he spoke. “Too tired to do anything right now… but if you wake me up in, like, an hour…” You laughed, real and low and warm. “Oh? Setting a cooldown timer now?” “Call it recovery time,” he mumbled, his fingers tracing idle shapes on your side. “You wore me out, babe.”

“Please,” you snorted, twirling a strand of his hair around your finger. “You were moaning like you were the one being touched.” “That’s because I was losing my mind,” he admitted shamelessly, lifting his head just enough to meet your eyes. “You’re dangerous.” You smiled, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “Dangerous, huh?”

“Mmhm. But like… the ‘ruin me in the best way’ kind.” You rolled your eyes fondly. “So dramatic.” “Yeah,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss the tip of your nose, then your cheek, “but only for you.” Your cheeks warmed, but you were too relaxed to hide it. You let out a soft sigh, your hand sliding up his back, palm warm against his bare skin. The silence that followed was comforting, filled only by your breathing and the faint creak of the bed as he settled in even closer.

“Hey,” he murmured a minute later, sleep tugging at his voice. “Mm?” “When I wake up…” he paused, tracing your lower lip with the pad of his thumb. “Can I try using my mouth next time?” Your breath hitched, your thighs instinctively pressing together. “Hoon.” “What?” he smirked, already smug. “You said I could experiment.” You narrowed your eyes at him, lips twitching. “Yeah, and now I’m gonna experiment with suffocating you with this pillow.” He laughed into your neck, the sound sleepy but genuine. “Worth it.”

And with that, he tucked himself in against you again, holding you a little tighter as both of you finally began to drift, your bodies messy and close, your hearts stupidly full. "Seriously speaking, though, I'll let you."

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So that’s how he woke you up— Not with a kiss to the cheek, not with whispered words or lazy cuddles. No. It was the wet, deliberate slide of his tongue, dragging between your thighs, starting at the crook of your knees and working its sinful way upward.

At first, you thought you were dreaming. The warm, slick sensation felt too good, too filthy for reality. But then you blinked open your bleary eyes, only to be met with the sight of Sunghoon sprawled out between your legs, his hair messy from sleep, his eyes dark and half-lidded with hunger.

Your legs instinctively clamped together, embarrassed by how easily your body responded to him even after everything last night. But he didn’t force them apart. He didn’t rush. He simply nestled himself deeper into the space you allowed, his large palms smoothing up the outsides of your thighs in slow, lazy strokes, coaxing you to relax without a single word.

Of fucking course he was.

And all the while, his tongue continued its maddening path—

Long, wet drags along your lips, broad and languid, never breaching further, never grazing your sensitive clit. He was taking his time, savoring you, tasting you like he had all the patience in the world. You let out a soft, frustrated whimper, threading your fingers into the sheets. He was teasing you.

Every slow pass of his tongue, every deliberate avoidance of your most sensitive spot had you trembling, your hips twitching in silent desperation. But Sunghoon just chuckled low against your skin, the vibration sending a jolt straight through your core. “You’re so warm down here,” he murmured, voice thick and gravelly from sleep, the tip of his nose nudging gently against your folds as he spoke. “So sweet.”

You squirmed, a soft, needy sound falling from your lips, but he only pressed a kiss against your mound—tender, almost reverent—and resumed his unhurried pace. “Relax, baby,” he whispered, teasing another slow lick along your slit, making your thighs tremble against his shoulders. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And God, the way he said it—low, certain, promising—made your entire body feel like it was melting into the mattress.

You gasped. Your hips jerked. Your fingers flew to his hair on instinct, clutching at the soft strands as your back arched clean off the mattress. “Shit—Sunghoon—” you breathed out, voice already trembling. He moaned low against you like he’d been starving, like the taste of you was all he needed to survive. His arms looped under your thighs, locking you in place, and then he really got to work—flattening his tongue against your clit, then flicking, then circling, relentless and rhythmic.

Sunghoon was going to ruin you again.

And you were going to let him.\But you didn’t expect how quickly he’d shift gears—how the moment he felt your thighs twitch with impatience, he gave in. His lips parted, and with one firm, messy lick, he finally dragged his tongue over your clit.

There was no more teasing. No more testing. Just full, unfiltered hunger. The slick, obscene sounds of his mouth on you filled the room, and you were already unraveling, moans spilling out freely as he sucked gently, then harder, drawing more of you into his mouth like he couldn’t get close enough. You looked down through bleary eyes, and the sight of him nearly broke you—his dark hair messy between your thighs, eyes fluttered shut like he was praying with his mouth, a single muscle ticking in his jaw every time you whimpered his name.

You came hard, with a gasp and a shudder, your body curling into itself as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through you. He held you steady the whole time, lapping you through it, not stopping even as your thighs trembled violently around his head. When it was over, when your body had fully gone boneless and your breath came in shallow, spent little whimpers, he finally pulled back—his lips glossy, cheeks flushed, eyes hazy with pride. He pressed a gentle kiss to your thigh. “Good morning, baby.”

He lifted his eyes then, locking them with yours, and fuck—

That look. It was so full of need. Of devotion. “Come on, baby,” he rasped, breath hot against your core as he licked you again. “Let go for me. I wanna feel you fall apart.” And with how he mouthed at your clit—sucking slow, then fast, then slow again—you did.

And just like that, you took his first time giving head. And you'll be damned if you don't steal his first time receiving either. Instantly, after you regained your strength, you flipped him over, so now, you were mounted on to him, crotches dangerously close to one another. Your breathing was ragged. If you scooched your ass just enough, you knew this would immediately lead to something else. But it's too early for that.

So, before he could even get a word in, you were already moving—sliding down the sheets with slow, deliberate grace, eyes locked onto the outline of him beneath his shorts. He was already hard. Straining. Practically twitching from how badly he wanted you, and yet still trying to keep it together.

You looked up through your lashes, lips parted just slightly, playing it innocent when the intent behind your gaze was anything but. "Can I?" you asked, voice soft—sweet like honey, sticky like sin. He looked down at you like he was caught between heaven and hell, his knuckles turning white where they fisted the blanket beneath him. You could see it all over him—the way his throat bobbed, the way his abs tightened, the way his eyes searched yours for permission and fear all at once.

You hovered just above his lap, face so close your breath ghosted over the fabric. And then—

You pressed your cheek against the bulge. That single, teasing nudge had him sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth. His hips bucked, just barely, like he couldn’t help himself. Like your skin on him, even through the layers, was enough to short-circuit his restraint.

“Baby…” he whispered, voice strained, “what if I hurt you?” You blinked slowly, your expression still soft but oh so certain. “Then take it slow. Learn me.” Your fingers toyed with the hem of his waistband, eyes still never leaving his. “I trust you.” And that broke him. Something behind his eyes snapped—need, love, desperation all crashing together. He exhaled shakily, letting his head fall back for a second before locking eyes with you again, gaze wild now. Hungry.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he muttered, almost like a prayer. Almost like a promise. And then, his hips lifted slightly in silent surrender—offering himself to you, placing every ounce of his control in your hands. You smiled. Because now, it was your turn to ruin him.

Lowering his shorts, you peeled them down slowly, watching every inch of skin reveal itself like it was sacred. And the moment the waistband cleared his hips, his cock sprang free—flushed, heavy, leaking at the tip. But what caught your attention more than anything else… was the huge, damp patch darkening his gray boxers.

Your brows lifted, lips parting with a small, breathy chuckle. “Hoonie…” you murmured, tracing a finger just along the edge of the wet fabric. “Did you come while you were fingering me earlier?” His jaw tensed. His eyes fluttered shut, like even the memory of it was too much. A deep flush crept down his neck. “I—” He let out a shaky breath. “I didn’t mean to. You were just… you looked so pretty falling apart. I couldn’t—fuck, I tried to hold it.”

You smiled, eyes softening as you looked up at him. There was something heartbreakingly sweet about it—about how much he wanted to please you, how deeply your pleasure affected him. “That hot, huh?” you whispered, leaning in to press the lightest kiss to the slick tip of his cock. He twitched under the touch, breath catching.

“You have no idea,” he rasped, voice low and wrecked. You hummed, lips brushing against him again, deliberately slow. “Guess I’ll have to return the favor… make you feel it all over again.” And this time, you weren’t playing innocent. You were in control—eager, unhurried, and fully aware of the way he fell apart beneath your touch. His hands gripped the sheets again, but this time he didn’t speak. He just watched. Watched you like you were something unreal—something he’d only ever dreamt of touching, let alone being touched by. And you—You were just getting started.

You took your time, savoring the moment—the way his chest heaved with every breath, the way his hands gripped the sheets like he was trying to hold onto his control. You knew what you were doing to him, and it made you want to tease him more.

With a slow, calculated motion, you leaned in again, this time pressing your lips gently to the tip of his cock, letting your breath flutter across him. His body stiffened immediately. You could feel the heat radiating off him, see the way his eyes clenched shut in frustration.

“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath. “You’re killing me.”

You smiled, a soft, knowing curve of your lips as you slid your hand up his shaft, your thumb swiping at the precum leaking at the tip. His hips jerked slightly, and you had to fight the urge to laugh at how desperate he already was.

“Patience, baby,” you teased, your voice a little too sweet. You swirled your thumb over him one more time before you let your tongue flick out, tracing the vein along the underside of his cock. He inhaled sharply, his body shaking as you moved up and down, slow and deliberate.

“Just like that… fuck,” he groaned, head falling back against the pillow, his lips parted as if he couldn’t quite catch his breath. “You’re perfect, so perfect.”

You hummed in response, pulling back just enough to look up at him. His eyes were dark with lust, lips trembling, and you could see how hard it was for him to keep it together.

“You like that, Hoonie?” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “You like how I’m taking my time?”

“God, yes…” he moaned, his hips moving involuntarily. His fingers tightened around the sheets, knuckles going white. “You have no idea how bad I need you.”

You chuckled softly, but there was no humor in it—just a wicked thrill, the kind that made everything feel so much more intense. You slid your mouth down his cock slowly, inch by inch, taking him deeper. The feeling of him on your tongue made your own body ache with desire, but you were focused—completely focused on him and how he was unraveling under your touch.

When you finally took him all the way in, his body stiffened, and a loud, desperate moan escaped him. His fingers threaded into your hair, pulling you even closer, but you pulled back, lips teasing the tip once more.

“Can’t have you coming too soon, Hoonie,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, but your words were laced with authority. “I want to make this last.”

He groaned, eyes shut tight as if just hearing you say it was enough to drive him mad. “You’re fucking killing me,” he breathed, voice trembling. “But god, please… don’t stop. I can’t—fuck, I can’t wait.”

And you didn’t. You kept going, taking him deeper, sucking him slowly, teasing the edges of his control with every movement. Your hands cupped his balls, massaging gently, making him gasp, pulling every inch of pleasure from him as he squirmed beneath you.

He was losing it, and you could feel it—how his body was shaking with the effort of holding himself back, his breaths coming in shallow gasps.

“Please,” he whispered, voice strained and desperate. “I need you to finish me.”

But you were far from done. With one final, long, slow draw of your mouth over him, you pulled away, leaving him gasping, eyes wild and wanting. The air between you both was thick with anticipation, the kind of tension that left you both breathless. Sunghoon’s hands were trembling slightly as he touched you, fingers skimming over your body as if he was mapping every inch of you. His lips brushed over your neck, gentle but desperate, his warm breath mingling with your skin.

"Are you sure?" His voice was low, just above a whisper, but you could hear the doubt, the fear that you might say no, even though he was aching to go further.

You nodded slowly, running your fingers through his hair, holding his face close to yours. “I’m sure, Hoonie. I want this. I want you. But I need you to take care of me.”

A flicker of concern passed through his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by something stronger. Something primal. "I’ll take care of you, I swear," he breathed, his hands moving to lift your legs gently, positioning you just the way he wanted you.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. His eyes were locked onto yours, searching, seeking permission. He needed to know you were truly ready, even though his body betrayed him—his cock was throbbing, aching, desperate to be inside you.

You held his gaze, offering a soft smile, your voice a whisper of reassurance. “It’s just you and me, Hoonie. Let go.”

His lips crashed to yours in an almost desperate kiss, as if the act of kissing you could drown out the flood of emotions swirling inside him. Slowly, he shifted between your legs, his breath uneven as he positioned himself at your entrance, his cock pressing against your slick folds.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his forehead resting against yours, his body trembling slightly as he fought the urge to just push inside. He was trying to be patient, trying to give you time, but the need inside him was overwhelming.

“You’re mine now,” he muttered against your lips, as he slowly pushed the tip inside, watching your face for any signs of discomfort. “Tell me if it hurts. I’ll stop.”

You nodded, breathing deeply, your body slowly adjusting to the sensation of him inside you. It was a mix of pain and pleasure, but you knew it would be worth it. “I’m okay,” you whispered, your voice shaky but filled with need. “Just… take it slow.”

Sunghoon’s face twisted in concentration, the effort to control himself evident in the way his jaw clenched. He didn’t want to rush it. He wanted to savor every second of this moment—your first time together.

He pushed deeper, inch by inch, his breath coming faster as he filled you completely. You gasped, your nails digging into his back as you adjusted to the fullness of him. It wasn’t easy—there was still that stinging burn, that feeling of being stretched, but you could tell by the way Sunghoon’s eyes widened that it was just as intense for him.

"God, you feel so tight," he muttered, his voice barely audible, strained with both pleasure and restraint. “So fucking perfect.”

You moaned softly, your body slowly adjusting as he began to move, his thrusts slow and measured at first, as if he was waiting for you to tell him it was okay to go faster.

“Move, Hoonie,” you whispered, your voice thick with need. “Make me feel good.”

And with that, he let go. The restraint he’d been holding onto shattered as he started to thrust deeper, harder. His body moved with yours, a rhythm built on desire and the desperate need to feel more of each other. Each movement sent shockwaves of pleasure through you, your body quickly heating up from the friction, the connection.

He kissed you again, more urgently this time, his hands gripping your hips to pull you closer, driving deeper into you with every thrust. You could feel the tension building, the way your body started to coil tighter, your moans escaping uncontrollably as he made love to you with a passion that left you breathless.

“Oh God, Hoonie,” you gasped, your hands grasping at him as you clung to him for support. “You feel so good. Don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” he grunted, his voice raw, desperate. “Not until you come for me.”

He was relentless now, his thrusts speeding up as your bodies collided with a force that made your head spin. The pleasure began to mount, and before you knew it, you were on the edge—teetering on the brink of ecstasy, every nerve in your body screaming for release.

With one final thrust, you exploded, your body shaking violently as the orgasm ripped through you, pulling a broken gasp from your lips. Sunghoon followed soon after, his name falling from your lips in a breathless, needy cry as he came inside you, his body shuddering with the force of his release.

For a moment, neither of you moved. You were both panting, your chests rising and falling in sync as you lay there, tangled in each other, letting the aftershocks of pleasure subside.

And you knew it. You loved it. Every second of it. He did too. And he sure as hell wasn’t afraid to voice it out.

Before he could think it through, the words spilled out of his mouth, and he just couldn’t hit the brakes. His body trembled beneath yours, eyes wide, filled with a mixture of desperation and raw adoration. The room felt thick with the tension, his voice strained as he struggled to hold it all together.

"Fuck... I love you," he gasped, the words slipping out like a confession he didn’t even know he was ready to make.

The moment hung in the air between you two, heavy and electric. His gaze locked with yours, wide and vulnerable, as if he’d just said something he couldn’t take back—but he didn’t want to. Not anymore.

His chest heaved as he breathed heavily, his fingers gently caressing your hair, as if afraid to break the fragile moment that just passed. “I love you, I love you so much, I—” He cut himself off with a groan, hands finding purchase on your hips as if grounding himself. “God, I don’t know what the hell I’m saying, but I know I mean it.”

You froze for a moment, feeling a wild rush of heat fill you—not just from the way he was touching you, but from the sheer vulnerability in his voice, the way his eyes begged for you to believe him. To feel it with him.

And it hit you.

It hit you harder than any of the touches or moans, deeper than any of the teasing and slow build-ups. He wasn’t just desperate for you physically anymore. Sunghoon was in love with you.

You leaned in, pressing your forehead against his, letting the weight of the moment settle over both of you. His hands were trembling now, brushing over your skin like he was still in awe of the connection between you two.

"Sunghoon..." you whispered, voice shaky but full of the same raw emotion.

His lips hovered just above yours, his breath mingling with yours as he let out another desperate sigh, this time filled with a quiet ache. "I can’t stop thinking about you," he said, his voice cracking slightly, making your heart race. "I didn’t want to say it like this... but I’ve never been more sure of anything. I love you."

Your heart beat wildly, and for a moment, neither of you moved, both suspended in the fragile vulnerability of the moment, both knowing this wasn’t just about the physical anymore—it was something deeper, something neither of you could deny anymore.

And before you could even answer, he kissed you—a slow, tender kiss that conveyed everything he’d just said. The love, the urgency, the wanting.

This wasn’t a tease anymore. This was real.

And you knew, then, you were both in this together.

"I love you too."

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Reminiscing all your sweet moments, your firsts, the six years of your life you spent with him. Within those six years, you'd fixed his insecurities, helped his growth as a person, supported him through all his decisions—and he did the same for you. There was a time when it felt like the world revolved around just the two of you. You saw each other not as perfect, but as irreplaceable. Eventually, the two of you moved in together in a homey little apartment near your university. It wasn’t anything extravagant, just a one-bedroom with creaky floorboards and slightly chipped kitchen tiles, but it felt like yours. It was yours. A space that smelled like his cologne and your favorite candle, always a little cluttered but always filled with laughter.

Sunghoon had gotten a part-time job at a cute cafe just around the corner. He insisted on it—to help with the expenses, he said—but more than that, he refused to let you stress. He absolutely refused to make you lift a finger if he could help it. “You focus on school, I’ve got the rest,” he used to say with a kiss on your temple and a warm mug in hand. And for a while, that worked. For a while, things were good. You’d wake up tangled in each other’s limbs, argue over what movie to watch, fall asleep in the middle of your shared chaos. You had your own rhythm, your own peace.

But then—around five months into living together—something shifted.

At first, it was subtle. Sunghoon started coming home later and later, offering excuses that felt thin no matter how kindly they were worded. “Extra shift,” “a coworker called in,” “the register was off.” You tried not to be that kind of partner. The clingy, paranoid type. So you gave him space. You didn’t question him much. You trusted him. But days stretched into weeks, and the distance between you only grew.

He was tired all the time, barely present when he was home. Meals were skipped. Conversations were short. Affection faded. What was once his warm hand on your back as you drifted off became cold sheets and an empty side of the bed. You were patient—God, you were so patient. You tried to initiate, to ask him gently if everything was okay. But he brushed it off, each time more dismissively than the last.

Until one morning, it all boiled over. The fight started like most fights do—quiet, subtle, like a crack in glass. You didn’t even mean to start it. Not really. You just asked him if he’d be home in time for dinner.

He barely looked up from tying his shoes, already halfway out the door. “Probably not. Minji asked if I could cover her closing shift again.”

Again. That word tasted bitter on your tongue now. Minji. Again.

You stood by the kitchen counter, arms crossed, forcing your voice to stay steady. “You’ve been covering for her a lot lately.”

He looked up briefly, his brows twitching in annoyance. “She’s going through some stuff. It’s just a few extra hours.”

“A few extra hours every night,” you snapped before you could stop yourself. “Hoon, I don’t even remember the last time we had dinner together without one of us falling asleep at the table.”

He sighed, dragging a hand through his hair, the same hand you used to hold when things got hard. “I’m working, okay? I’m trying to help. We’ve got rent, utilities, your tuition—it’s not like I’m out partying.”

“I didn’t say you were,” you murmured. “But you’re never here anymore. I feel like I live with a ghost." The fight came out fast and harsh—words sharp like broken glass. He was getting ready for another late shift, and you, exhausted and hurt from feeling ignored for weeks, finally snapped. “It’s like you don’t see me anymore,” you cried, your voice cracking. “I didn’t move in just to live alone with someone else’s toothbrush in the bathroom!”

He looked at you, jaw tense, eyes tired—not from lack of sleep, but from detachment. “I’m working so you don’t have to. Isn’t that what you wanted?” he shot back. The words felt like a slap. And before either of you could stop it, it spiraled. It turned into something ugly, something neither of you wanted to say. You didn’t even kiss goodbye when he walked out. He didn’t even look back.

The words struck something in him. He stood straighter, jaw clenched. “So now I’m the bad guy because I’m trying to keep us afloat?”

“No,” you said, a little softer now, trying to rein it back. “You’re not the bad guy. I just… I miss you.”

“We’ll talk later. I’m already late.”

He paused, and for a moment, you thought he might meet you halfway. Say I miss you too. Say Let’s figure it out.

But instead, he grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder.

“Hoon—”

He was already at the door, not even looking back. “We’ll talk later.”

And just like that, the conversation ended with the click of the door closing behind him.

But guilt came fast. And heavy.

Maybe he was stressed. Maybe you’d pushed too hard. You didn’t want him walking into work with that fight weighing him down. So a few hours later, after pacing the apartment, you decided to go to the café. To surprise him. Maybe share a muffin, maybe hug him and say sorry first. Maybe—just maybe—fix things.

You stood there, staring at the silence he left behind. The untouched plates on the table. The half-cut vegetables you were chopping for a meal that wouldn’t be shared.

You didn’t know it then—but you wouldn’t get the chance to talk it out.

Because that night, while you were preparing to apologize, to meet him halfway, to forgive—

On the way, you stopped by a small fruit vendor and bought a small brown paper bag of fresh tangerines—his favorite. He always peeled them for you, careful not to get the juice on your fingers. It felt like a quiet way to say, I’m still here. I still care.

He was in someone else’s arms.

And the conversation would turn into a wound you’d never forget.

The bell chimed when you walked into the café. The place was warm and cozy, as always, but unfamiliar faces were behind the counter. One of the other staff—someone you’d only seen in passing—recognized you. “Oh, you’re Sunghoon’s girlfriend, right? He’s in the back. You can go ahead, he won’t mind.”

You smiled, heart fluttering with nervous hope, gripping the bag of tangerines tighter as you pushed through the swinging door into the back room.

And then your heart stopped.

There he was.

Sunghoon.

His back pressed against a shelf, hands tangled in the hair of a girl pressed flush against him. Her fingers were fisted in his shirt, his mouth locked with hers—hungry, desperate, familiar. You stood frozen, eyes wide, breath caught somewhere in your throat. The bag slipped from your hand. The tangerines hit the floor, rolling lazily across the tiles. They didn’t even notice at first.

It wasn’t until you turned, the door creaking slightly on your way out, that he looked up—eyes meeting yours, going wide with panic. “Wait—wait, no, fuck, baby—” You didn’t stop walking. Not until he grabbed your arm outside, dragging you away from the cafe’s front, his voice frantic and broken. “It wasn’t what it looked like, I swear, please—I messed up, but I—It didn’t mean anything!”

You laughed bitterly. “That’s supposed to make me feel better? That it meant nothing to you?” ��I was confused, I was tired—things got hard, and I panicked—please, don’t leave me,” he begged, tears brimming in his eyes. “Let’s talk. Let’s fix it. We can fix this.” But something in you had already snapped. The trust you held so tightly—shattered. You had given him everything. Your love. Your time. Your home. Your soul.

And now you were standing outside the place he kissed someone else, the same place he used to bring you coffee from, the same one where you waited for him in the past—smiling, waving at him through the window like something out of a romance film. But this wasn’t a film. This wasn’t a scene you’d ever wanted to see. Because this—this was real. You were standing under the harsh neon glow of a sign that used to mean warmth and familiarity, and now it felt like it was branding you with betrayal.

The scent of roasted beans and sugar lingered in the air, but it was no longer comforting. Not when it clung to the fabric of your clothes alongside the image of her hands on him. Not when it tangled in your lungs like smoke from a fire he started with his own hands. Your voice came out quieter than expected, barely carrying over the ringing in your ears.

“I'm gonna start packing,” you said, almost to yourself. Sunghoon flinched like the words struck him physically. “No,” he whispered, as if saying it soft enough would erase it. “Please, no. Don’t go.” His hands trembled as he reached for yours, but you stepped back before he could touch you. And that broke him further. His breath hitched, eyes darting across your face like he was trying to memorize it—like he knew this might be the last time he’d get to look at you without shame, without distance, without regret.

“I know I fucked up,” he choked out. “I know I did. But I love you. I’ve always loved you. It didn’t mean anything, I swear—she was just there, and I was stupid, and I—I panicked. We were drifting and I didn’t know how to fix it.” Tears welled in your eyes, and you hated how badly you wanted to believe him. But it wasn’t about just the kiss. It was about everything that led to it. The silence. The absence. The way he started treating you like an afterthought.

“And you thought that kissing someone else would help you fix us?” you asked, voice barely steady. “You thought that would bring me back?” “I wasn’t thinking,” he muttered, almost childlike, like regret had stripped him of the version of himself you knew. “I was scared.” You shook your head slowly. “You weren’t scared. You were careless.”

He staggered back a little, like the words winded him. He opened his mouth, but no apology could fill the gaping hole he'd carved into something that used to be sacred. “I stood by you for six years,” you continued, blinking back tears. “I believed in you when you didn’t believe in yourself. I made a home with you. I chose you. Every single day. And you—you didn’t even think twice.”

“I did think. I regret it. I’ll do anything. Just don’t leave. Please,” he pleaded, voice breaking mid-sentence. “You’re all I have.” You exhaled sharply, the pain gnawing in your chest almost unbearable. “Then maybe you should’ve treated me like that before you lost me.” The silence between you stretched. Only the faint sound of traffic and your own heartbeat thrummed in your ears.

You didn’t wait for him to speak again. You turned away, your footsteps heavy against the sidewalk, each step a confirmation of the choice you had to make—for yourself. You weren’t going to beg to be chosen anymore. Not when he had already chosen someone else—even if it was only for a moment. Because that one moment had torn through six years. And some things, no matter how much you want to save them, just don’t survive the wreckage.

You laughed at the absurdity of the situation. With you, he learned to love himself. But you, you learned to let go. It took you 6 years, but you finally graduated from this lesson. You also realized that Sunghoon didn't learn you. He fucking learned to be wild. To be confident in himself. And it hurt more knowing you taught him to.

Eventually, you finally gathered all your belongings from your former home, opting to move in with your homie for life, Ivan, who accepted you with open arms. He didn't even say a word to your family or the Parks, but they still somehow managed to find out, awestruck and just as heartbroken as you were at the sudden separation. They couldn't blame your for wanting to leave, though. It just gravely affected them too, since you and Sunghoon practically came as a pair in gatherings or even just a normal dinner on a Tuesday night.

It was gonna be hard filling out the cracks he's left on you and your family, (and vice versa), but you'll have to manage, and you are managing it. Just not in the healthiest way possible.

- to be continued -

#enhypen smut #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen #enha fluff #park sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon smut #park sunghoon #sunghoon soft hours #sunghoon hard thoughts

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noxturnalmoth · 4 months ago

Text

Under Duress

Pairing: Garen x reader (ft. Sylas)

Summary: When you fight as Demacia's top two officers, you are bound to be seen as fearsome enemies or important hostages. When you are taken by one of your nation's number one targets, you expect the usual torture, one you can withstand no matter how violent. What you don't expect is the humiliation you will be put through, and how it will leave place to mindnumbing pleasure and shift the relationship you hold with your Commander, Garen Crownguard.

Warnings: Violence, dubious consent, sadism, come eating, throat fucking, mating press, binding (with chains), slight bleeding, cunnilingus, hard dom, soft dom, degradation, praise, impact play, threats, fem reader, penetration, creampie

Word Count: 17, 399

Navigation: here

When you integrated the Dauntless Vanguard, you were young, idealistic, devoted to your nation.

And you still are.

Yet years of battle against the mage menace and Noxians have hardened you into sharp warrior. No longer the sweet young girl you once were, you saw the world as it was. Rotten, needing to be cleansed and wiped clean like a petricite slate.

It was hard at first, the rhythm relentless, no respite, no favors. But you've learned to appreciate the cadence, the harsh training that would leave you bruised, scarred and exhausted beyond belief. The classes, teaching military strategy and the horrors of war to young, bright and impressionable minds quickly engraving their lessons in your mind.

Many stayed simple soldiers, content with helping their country yet wishing to remain free of the many responsibilities of higher ranks. Which was understandable, everyone had the role they felt fit them, and all of them without exception were important to the Demacian rule. To your codes and laws, to your ideals.

But that wasn't you.

From a young age you admired your father, an esteemed Lieutenant in the Mageseeker forces, who died in a mission to protect your land from the beasts in human clothing hiding amongst those in Runeterra. And as such, you strived to become like him. Yet as you got older, you grew to appreciate the Dauntless Vanguard's proactive ways more. Not only defending your nation from scum, but also from Noxians who felt entitled to the whole world after they ruined their own land after following a madman.

So, with years of relentless training, blood, sweat and tears given to the military academy in the capital, you integrated the force. This handful of years in your life building your faith into something stronger, melting your body and forging it into a weapon worthy of being wielded for the Demacian cause. And you quickly made your name known as the best trainee in your year, a reliable force of nature whose only loyalty was her land.

No matter who you were pitted against, you would come out victorious, eyes set ablaze as a war cry ripped through your throat. They may have all left scars, but your triumph over your enemies made you wear them as badges of honor. Traces left to show your devotion to the cause.

Your fervent belief and action were what caught the eye of the then Captain Garen Crownguard and you were quickly switched to his unit. The man representing all you have ever believed Demacia to be. Honorable, righteous, just.

And beautiful.

It's not hard to fall for the charm of someone as kind and gentle as the Crownguard heir. His mannerisms, his way of speaking, his bright mind, his unbelievable strength and stature, he was like if one of the heroes' statues awakened to stand his ground against Demacia's foes. Bringing down his sword as if guided by Lady Kayle herself.

He piqued your interest just as you had piqued his. And while yours stemmed from admiration at the very beginning, it didn't take much time for it to evolve into infatuation.

He would observe you, train you as if to test you and himself, finally finding a worthy opponent to his herculean self. His voice would call out to you during meetings, asking, no, demanding you to give your opinion about tactics. He believed in you and pushed you to become the best version of yourself, day by day, through the deserts of Shurima and the tundra of the Freljord. Through days and nights. At camp, in the capital or at war. He pushed you far beyond what he did to the others.

Yet when you bled, when you suffered losses at war, when you raged and tears of frustration carved their ugly marks in your youthful face, he held you close with a gentleness that betrayed his inhuman size. One arm around you as he cared for whatever ailed you. Whether he was the cause for it or not.

And soon enough what was an unspoken mentor and pupil camaraderie became a friendship. His form seeking yours after hours to speak about the world, about the future, to laugh and drink. To be human when war could rip this away from you.

He was your rock, your anchor in the tumultuous shipwreck of life. And you were his, a reminder of what he fought for. A visionary of Demacia who held hope in their heart, strength in their body and reason in their mind. One who did not falter and would pick him back up whenever his duties became too hard on him, shouldering the burden by his side. Silently, willingly, happily. Doing anything to help the man you both idolized and adored, as a figure and as a complete part of your life. Your devotion to Demacia reflected in your friendship and in your spot at his side in the Dauntless Vanguard.

Years passed and from private you turned Sargent, from Sargent you turned into a Lieutenant, from Lieutenant to Captain. Garen taking his place as Commander within the military. His steadfast belief in the core values of your nation and his sheer power giving him the monicker of The King's Sword or even The Might of Demacia. He made you his right hand, your growth by his side reflected in the pride swirling within his eyes each time he looked at you.

There was nowhere he was that you weren't. Stuck to him at first by his order, then by the knowledge that the two of you together were unbeatable, a perfect duo. Forces to be reckoned with lest you had a death wish. You were his second set of eyes and ears, his body double, his voice when he couldn't attend, his advisor; just as he was yours. The two of you completing each other seamlessly.

The perfect partnership.

Your friendship growing beyond simple casual interactions after hours. Discussions dipping into personal matters about motivations, about the soul, about the world. Your heart bared more often than not as was his. A rawness that had terrified you at first but that you welcomed as a part of your daily life. Friendly quips grew as time passed, sometimes making their way in tactical meetings whenever the time called for it, bemused looks shared between you and Garen that no one else but the two of you would understand.

You would share touches. What began as your bodies meeting in training, simple brushes and humorous slaps on the arm evolved to include intertwined hands, joking dances away from celebrations, embraces after battles, hands brushing the other's hair back or to wipe away at a stain. His immense body dwarfing yours a thousand times over in a way that was both exhilarating and comforting.

Just as your notoriety and friendship grew, so did your infatuation. The seed of attraction softly and slowly growing into something more, something dangerous in this line of work, watered by your proximity in body and in heart with the Commander. Not only was it hard because of the prospect of one's partner dying in battle, the thought of ruining your friendship through a misplaced confession that would be rejected, but there was also the question about the ethics of dating someone hierarchically lower or higher than you are.

Not to mention he was not just a superior but the Commander of the Dauntless Vanguard. The right hand to the King. This was not simply a question of ethics but also of your standing within the army and as a soldier of Demacia opening your faith to the silent worship of something else than the code.

The wish of his strong arms encasing you in their warmth, calloused hands gripping you tight, his muscles rippling beneath your touch, his hot breath and lips against you as the limpid pools of his eyes regarded you with pride and adoration. Fantasies that ate at you at night when you found yourself by your lonesome, spurring sinful purges of the thoughts through your own release, and that scorched you whenever in his presence. The heat of devotion biting, but the coolness of his trust and care for you making the pain ebb away like the waves on the shores of Ionia lick at its dark sand, the wave shifting the dark grains like the doubt in your mind that Garen could ever love you back.

But even through your complicated feelings, and with enough mastery over yourself to hide them, you two soon became the most revered soldiers in Demacia, your people nicknaming you Kayle's Will just as they had given Garen his own names. Your might and intelligence worthy of being bestowed the name of The Protector in the eyes of your nation, your men and your King but also your best friend. Battles never once lost under your guidance, the faith in Demacia stronger than any adversary, fueling your body to keep on going no matter what.

Which is how you found yourself in this situation.

Soldiers rush forward, their shields raised as they let the petricite absorb vile magic only to slide to the side to let their companions rush in with their blades to strike the mages down.

Both sides suffered great losses, and no matter how many battles you've fought, seeing more comrades fall fueled an angry blaze within you. Despite it being your duty, their deaths will always leave a mark on you, making you fight harder than before. Garen by your side reacting the same way. Yet your minds are clear, untainted by rage, calculating every possibility and barking orders to your men as needed.

That was when you saw him, the leader of this band of mages who came from the desolate and frigid mountains of the Freljord, the man who had killed the previous king.

Sylas.

He was proud, stepping forwards as the men fighting part like the red sea. His presence magnetic, pulling you in yet rejecting you. He walked slowly, the drag of the chains trapped within the stone encasing his wrist singing a deadly melody.

And that was when your gaze returned to your Commander, his already on you.

This man had nearly killed Luxanna, Garen's younger sister, and used her to escape his execution. This man had killed your King. This man had led a revolution that killed many of those you grew up with, many of your people, innocents who were just bystanders in his mindless attack.

Your stomach dropped in anger, red seeping in your vision before the Crownguard heir's voice resounded. Somehow still impossibly loud even over the sounds of blades clashing and the arcane being used to spill more Demacian blood.

"Sylas. Under authority of the king and to avenge all of those whom you've forsaken, we will bring you down. You and your men. To avenge our people, to honor our King and to rid the world of the plague of mages."

Your glaive is readied by your side, your body lowered into its stance as your hands grip it tightly, and you slide in front of Garen. Your offensive style being more aggressive than his, you have decided years ago of a combination that can destroy the enemy, topple it over like a house of cards. And it places you first in the line of attack to shock the opponent with your violence, distracting and opening the enemy to the flurry of attacks the King's Sword and yourself would unleash upon them.

"Ah. The Commander and his guard dog. How quaint. I was wondering when you two would make time for little old me instead of dallying around the battlefield. But then again, you're in high demand, such strong and important people are bound to be called everywhere."

The man saunters over, his words smug yet biting beneath their confidence, his smirk slicing at you like a blade would. Your face sets at the nickname he utters for you, nearly spat out mockingly as his eyes set on the both of you.

"I'm honored." He bows with a flourish of his hand, steps growing heavier, the chains at his wrists rattling and trailing besides him.

"You will not speak of my Captain in such a way, Sylas." Garen all but spits, his hold over Judgment, his broadsword, tighter as he straightens. His own body readying itself behind you, towering over your form like a terrifying shadow.

"Your rebellion ends now. Give up and we'll allow some mercy on you and your men. If not, there is nothing that will stop your demise. It is fated, so give yourself some respite, mage. Unless pain is what you seek." Your voice is strong, unwavering as your stance, your hands positioning the blade of your pole arm down, drawing a literal line in the sand. A boundary.

But Sylas scoffs, stopping in front of the line you traced before him.

"Mercy? Respite? Don't make me laugh, lady. As for pain?" He steps on the line, yet doesn't cross it. "Your people have made us suffer already for long enough. We aren't afraid anymore, and we won't back down. So do your worse little soldier, Commander Crownguard, you will not win."

As soon as the tips of his toes pass the carved threshold your blade is turned up, slicing towards the man before you jump away, letting Garen begin his onslaught. You strike down at the enemy's feet, your arms unnaturally using the momentum to pivot the blade and slash upwards in a milisecond before clashing against the ground. Your very own swallow's strike, the one attack attributed to you that none in the army could copy.

You continue with quick stabs, your body sliding on the ground and behind him to slash at this Achilles' heel. Meanwhile Garen strikes with simple attacks, his speed betraying his size. Yet while Sylas gets slashed and bleeds, he shows no sign of slowing down. Whipping you with his chains, their metal wrapping around the pole of your glaive.

"Garen, switch!"

The man nods at you and you abandon your weapon before jumping aside, Garen rushing at Sylas as you take Judgment and swirl with it, using momentum to be able to strike downwards at the enemy while your comrade uses the chain wrapped around your glaive to slam him down.

"Switch!"

"Yes, sir!"

His blade returns to him while your pole is held tightly between your hands and you two strike at once.

"You two really are pissing me off." Sylas smirks, his fists swinging and his body twisting to escape and attack despite your relentlessness.

"Too damn bad." You grunt, twirling your pole as you lean back, slicing a circle in the air that nicks your opponent to his face, a little too close to his eye. "That's part our gods damned job." And with a heavy step forward you bring the blade down heavily, like the strike of a hammer coming from the heavens and splitting the ground apart into a chasm.

"You bitch." He chuckled, rushing up your weapon before catching you by the throat and flipping up and behind you, slamming you on your back.

"Sylas!" The man is sent away with a swing of a blade, Garen's gentle hand pulling you up and behind him protectively as you wheeze, your armor feeling too tight all of a sudden. The airborne suplex knocking the air out of your lungs and rattling your bones uncomfortably in such a way that you know your spine will bruise while your friend glowers to the man before you.

"What is it, my esteemed Commander?" Sylas mocks, eyes wide and lips snarling.

"Don't you dare speak of her in such a way or I'll make sure that the years you've spent wasting away in your cell feel like the best ones of your life." Garen's voice is low, threatening and filled with an aggression you've never seen in him.

Your enemy chuckles, the chortles evolving into maniacal laughter.

"So you're the guard dog, then." He states, his stature suddenly straightening. "How fun."

Blades clash once more, the man somehow keeping with the both of you.

As if all of this was premeditated.

"Garen, something's wrong." Your friend nods, his back to yours before he holds your hand and swings you in his hold. His blade, broad and strong, protects you and deflects Sylas, before you unravel from the oldest Crownguard's hold, slashing in diagonal motions before rushing forwards with your glaive held towards the adversary. But before you can stab him, you plant your blade into the ground, vaulting over him as Garen strikes.

Your own slash delivered behind Sylas, cutting through his back before you slide between his legs and back in front of him to Garen, slashing his inner thigh in the process, his body crumbling to its knees.

"Sylas what in the realms are you planning?"

"One man can't simply hold his own against the two of you, can he?" He tuts, panting heavily and twitching in pain yet remaining on his two feet. Glowering up at the two of you.

"No, he can't. Now tell us what the catch is, mage." You circle around him, eyes observing every movement, every breath.

He chuckles darkly, his eyes following you. "But where would the fun be in that, mh?"

You scoff, getting closer and pointing the end of your blade to his neck, the weapon drawing a bloody line on the skin, your hands sliding on the pole as you walk to him.

"I wouldn't try my luck."

"Right, because I'm on the ground and you're on top. I'm so threatened, darling. Quaking in my boots." He mocks as you grip his hair, pulling it to tilt his head up while you point your glaive at his chest.

Garen is behind him, observing as he snarls down at the mage. His sword drawn and pointed to the man's back.

"Why attack now? And why the burst of confidence while you're under the blades of the two strongest soldiers in Demacia?"

Sylas tuts, his look haughty even in this position.

"Answer her!"

"Oh gods, calm down mutt. Your voice is gritting, I'd much rather listen to your lady friend's dulcet tones." Your blade pierces his chest lightly, lips pulling further down and your eyebrows furrowing at the lack of respect. Your grip tightens on the pole as he disregards you while actively mentioning you to Garen.

"The lady friend is here you scum." You grit out.

"Why so angry, mh? You'd look ravishing if you weren't bitter from Demacia's poison."

"Sylas, I will say it one last time. You disrespect her again and I will make your life a living hell."

"Oh bite me, Crownguard." The man chortles again. "Your people already have. What do I have to lose? My life? Oh no, how tragic." His voice falls flat and so does his face.

"Oh trust me, you've seen nothing." Your friend snarls.

"Oh I bet I haven't, but you have, haven't you?" Sylas' eyes rake over you mischievously, smirking when Garen grips him by the jaw to snap his head up, gazes meeting.

"You're on thin ice."

"And you still haven't done anything."

You see Garen's jaw clench, his face pulled in such an expression of hate that you don't recognize the man before you. Your heart squeezing as his eyes trail to you, softening yet swirling with a maelstrom of intensity.

"Step back, Captain."

"Commander?" You question, removing your blade from it's bleeding indent in Sylas' chest and walking backwards slowly, your eyebrows lowering in confusion.

"I think it's time I teach this man some manners. If he cannot respect you, then no mercy shall be given to him."

"How sweet of you. Who knew you were such a teddy bear for a simple woman who's below you?" The enemy pouts as Garen retreats, Judgment held tightly in his hand while he raises it.

"Sylas, do me a favor and just die already." He growls, a sword of light coming down onto the mage as Garen strikes down.

"Garen don't!"

The impact forces you to plant your glaive in the ground to keep yourself from flying away, your eyes closing at the brightness of it. But soon enough it all feels wrong, you sense it, something in the air shifted.

Garen has made a major error, and you don't know what it is.

A hand grips your neck tight and you suffocate, your back hitting something hard as your hands are chained together. The chuckle is unmistakable. Sylas is behind you and he's strong, and most importantly he is untouched.

His hands clean, his lungs expanding at an unhurried pace as his chin lands on your shoulder, his face clean from blood and wounds.

Shakily, your eyes trail to the dissipating Justice of Demacia, no body laying in its wake. The only trace of something being left behind is a puddle of blood.

"Surprise~" The voice of the man whom you believed to be dead murmurs teasingly in your ear, his lips grazing it. "Did you two truly forget who I am?"

Garen stands, wide eyed and heaving, unmoving in shock before his face twists once more, body suddenly rushing forwards.

"I simply had to copy one of my comrades' ability. How useful it is to be able to clone oneself, mh?"

The grip around your neck tightens and you whimper, your voice rough and eyes blurry from the lack of oxygen.

"Calm down, Commander. Or the lady gets it. We wouldn't want that, now would we?" The chains tug at your wrists, the pull making you croak at the pain.

"Garen. Kill him." You manage, eyes teary as you try to squirm. Kicking backwards while the man behind you grabs you tighter, the pain around your throat and on your arms multiplied at each step Garen takes, at each way you try to get away from him.

But your friend stops. Planting his greatsword in the ground as his eyes widen, eyebrows raising and furrowing in raw concern.

"So you'd rather put your mission in jeopardy than hurt your Captain?" Sylas hums, the thrum of his chest, shaking your body as your eyes begin to roll back. "To whom pertains your loyalty if you can't finish the mission you were sent out to do? The new King should be worried at who serves under him."

The musings of your enemy seem to make the flames of Garen's anger burn brighter, like a hearth growing into a forest fire. But he contains himself, taking steps back. And the further away he gets, the more the pressure on your neck lightens, some oxygen finally reaching your lungs.

"Leave her out of this."

"And why would I do that? You two are my enemy all the same as I am yours, you've never hesitated to hunt down my people, so why should I hesitate in killing yours?"

You're brought down to your knees by a swing of his legs, wheezing and coughing at the sudden rush of air and the burning pain in your legs and arms, tears falling from your eyes against your will.

"Garen, please, just end him!"

"He'll kill you."

"Then so be it. Gods damn it Garen I'm ready to die for my country, it's what I've been preparing for all my life! He is a menace to Demacia, to you. He will hurt you, all of them, he'll wreak havoc if we let him leave! Just let me die!" You desperately plead, voice breathless and broken at the heaviness of your own lies. Their weight crushing you with the guilt of losing sight of your code.

"I won't let you!" He yells, his voice cracking. "I can't.."

A chain wraps around your neck, pulling you up like a puppet before Sylas.

"Aw. How touching." Your feet hang inches above ground, Sylas serving as your personal gallows. His other hand gripping your jaw tight enough that you know it'll bruise. "How about a deal, then? Mh?"

"I will take no deal of yours, you vile creature. And neither will she."

"Oh. No no no, you will take it. Because you either do, or it'll end up really badly for your little friend."

Garen's offensive stance tenses further, anger morphing his features until his eyes trail to you, softening with concern and something far more gentle. Something intimate. Something vulnerable.

He stands there, pondering as he pants, panic overtaking his body while his eyes snap around him, trying to find an exit rout, a plan to get you out safe, something, anything. But when he doesn't and desperation settles heavy in his stomach, he looks back to you, hanging from the chain at your neck as you claw at it weakly. Your body exhausted from the fight and the lack of oxygen does you no good, your form pathetically squirming while sniffles escape you. Wishing nothing more than to be in Garen's arms.

Truth is, death seems like the most terrifying thing to you at the moment, your own previous words nothing but lies to encourage Garen to finish the mission so the dangerous man holding you hostage would finally be taken out of this world. Because you'd be left without him. And he'd be left without you. And the prospect of your loneliness in the vast emptiness of the afterlife while he remains in the land of the living makes your heart shrivel.

Not only would you be left alone, never to feel his presence alongside yours again, to be forgotten, but you have to swallow the bitterness of this loneliness with the fact that he would have to deal with your death for the rest of his days in Runeterra. That he would be hurt, alone, grieving without the possibility to be comforted ever again, without the want or need to let someone else in his heart as he has with you.

You know that it would leave a hole in his soul, he had told you so once.

"If you ever were to die, I don't think I could live with myself anymore. I can take the deaths of comrades, of my men. But never will I be able to take yours."

He had said, looking up at the starry sky after you asked him about his reaction to losing you in battle.

And now as you stand at the door to the afterlife, you're terrified at what will happen to him. Your own death mattering little against what he means to you, what you mean to him.

"What is your deal, mage. Speak."

Sylas tuts behind you, like a parent scolding his unruly child.

"You're in no place to make demands, Commander." His hand wraps further around the chain holding your neck, your body elevating a couple more inches above ground, your neck trapped in a vice as your vision darkens once more.

"Sylas, stop!" Garen yells. "..Please, tell me the conditions of your deal."

"Good boy." The man behind you muses, the chain around your neck loosening and your feet finding the ground once more. "If you two surrender yourselves to us, we'll stop attacking and leave the rest of your men alive. As simple as that."

Your friend shakes, baited breath rattling his heavy armor, his body crumpling to the ground as his eyes shake at the proposal and at the sight before him.

He looks wrecked. Desperate. Fearful.

And this is the first time you see him like that.

Gone is the valiant Commander. All that's left is the boy in the armor. A lonely boy who could lose is best friend, his only friend, if he doesn't make the right choice. But who would betray all he stands for by saving her.

"Time is ticking, Crownguard." Sylas begins to imitate the sounds of a clock as he swings you from side to side.

Garen calls out your name and tears begin to fall from your eyes once more, a monsoon of grief rolling over the valleys of your cheeks.

"Please Garen." You sniffle.

"What do I do? Please, guide me once more, I beg of you." Comes his own shaky answer.

"I'm scared."

Your sobs break him further and you see his resolve crumble.

"Take us, just please. I beg of you. Stop hurting her." His lips tremble as he bows, surrendering for the first time in his life.

For you.

"Good choice."

The rest is a blur. Your body thrown to Garen like a vulgar toy makes him nearly lash out but he remains calm, your form cradled in his arms gently through the length of the way to the Freljord. The cold biting you as you curl up in his arms, his voice comforting you softly while he looks ahead, eyes glossing over when he looks down to your broken form. Your neck and jaw blooming deep purple bruises that fade to greens when you reach an old, abandoned outpost. The both of you thrown and chained in a cell, huddling together for comfort and warmth, your armors ripped from you as are your weapons.

"Why?"

"To have leverage against your people. What can they do without the two of you? They're left defenseless, not the Commander nor his right hand can save them now. Demacia is weak and now, they will listen. And they will learn. Never will we be hunted like animals and treated like mere cattle ever again." Sylas' voice is dark as he slams the cell's door close.

You shake and shiver, clinging to Garen like a lifeline as the chains shackling your hands and feet remind you of the one that wrapped around your neck weeks before. Your eyes stinging each time you look at them.

"I'm sorry, dove. I'm so sorry." He whispers again and again, day by day. "We'll make it, we always do. I won't let them hurt you. I promise."

Your voice never answers with anything but sobs, your body clinging to him tighter, tears wetting Garen's shirt while he holds you and caresses you. Never does his patience falter, never does he let go, needing your presence by his side as much as you need his.

You hold one another tightly, muttering words of comfort while you're desperately scraping by for any reason to stay strong. Your nation. Your people. The need to keep them protected and safe as you fight tooth and nail for them.

In the end, two weeks pass before you're taken away, screaming for Garen as you're placed in a cell far from him. Your voice raw and your nails bloody as you're dragged away from your sole source of comfort, of familiarity. From the man who holds you so gently even when the world grows cruel and sharp, cutting away at you two you until there is nothing left but scraps that you both piece back together. Again and again, no matter how much it hurts.

"Hello little lady." Sylas muses, every time he comes around. His voice cocky and his gait confident, he looks down at you with condescension. He usually only says this as he delivers your meals, simply entertained by your pathetic, shackled, curled up self. Panting from being beaten mere minutes before, more bruises covering your skin each day that passes.

"It's funny, isn't it. The two highest ranking soldiers of the Dauntless Vanguard dropping their credo just because they can't let go of one another." He teases on the seventh day.

"What do you want, Sylas." You spit out, trying to keep your voice steady even though the days without Garen seem longer the more they pass, minutes feeling like hours, hours like days, days like weeks.

"Simply to break your spirits. I have no information that I need from either of you, we're just biding our time until your King begs and grovels for you to come back."

"And what do you need from him?" You grit your teeth, tired eyes trailing to the man who crouches before you, currently patting your head.

"To change his fucking policy about my people, darling. Because unless what you believe, we're not evil. But hunt people down, chain them for long enough by their lonesome and torture them and you'll have a storm coming. That's how it works."

His hand grips your hair and tilts your head upwards to meet his limpid gaze. Ice cold like the sky in the Freljord.

"Then ain't it dangerous to do the same to the head of the military and his right hand?" You glower. "Maybe you're just stupid then."

"Oh no, darling. I'm not. You wanna know why?" He brings you closer, his facial hair rubbing on your cheek as he whispers in your ear. "Because if either of you tries something, then the other will die. If one of you is alive we still have our leverage, the rest is simply revenge."

And with that he drops you, your head slamming onto the stone floors, and leaves you with the knowledge of your current uselessness. There is nothing you can do without risking Garen and nothing he can do without risking you. You're on your own until the King sends for you.

If he even does.

Would you two be replaced, simple cogs in the war machine that has existed long before you and will exist long after your demise? Or do you two hold enough importance for the King to bargain and change the code that was born alongside your nation simply to have you back at the head of his armies.

Days pass, leaving you to stew in your own hopelessness as you are fed moldy bread, hardened by the cold, stale and given with a slice of whatever else they decided to accompany it with. You're given water like a dog, poured in a bowl they lay on the ground, kicked until you comply by drinking for it on all fours.

In this loneliness you're forced to acknowledge just how much you need Garen. Just how a world without him is harsher, unlivable, impossible to survive in as you shrivel up in his absence. Your feelings for him just seem to grow bigger and stronger in his absence, in this situation you are currently in.

You were content with just being his advisor and his duo once, his friend and nothing more. Content with the scraps of the man you desired whole. But the distance made you realize how badly mistaken you were, fooling yourself to not realize that your feelings of adoration and devotion ran much deeper than a crush, than liking someone. No, you love him beyond even the credo that is engraved in your flesh and mind, you love him above your King and your nation.

And so did he.

He had given up a chance to leave the band of mages without a leader, the chance to kill one of the most wanted criminals in Demacia and an entire group of arcane wielders, simply to save you.

And within the loneliness of your cell you come to the realization that you could have had him all along. Wasting time with stupid ethical reasons from an antiquated code of conduct while each day could be the last you spend by his side. While you could be loving him and him loving you instead of dancing around the question. Instead of interpreting every word, every breath, every reaction, every touch. Suffering when near, unable to cut down the growing affection, but even more when away, unable to handle distance. Both emotional and physical.

And he had probably been feeling just the same.

How cruel. Being blind to the thing that could make you happy, simply because of your reluctance to ruin something that couldn't be corrupted or broken, simply because of fear of being undesired while all signs pointed to the opposite.

"How is Garen?" You choke out at the end of the second week.

"Oh he's…Alive." Sylas muses.

"What have you done to him?"

"Oh stop behaving like this woman, we're just giving him some time alone. Now that I think about it…when did we last see him?"

The realization dawns on you that they haven't been feeding Garen, Sylas' grin as he leaves tells you as much. So you ration, bits of bread, meat and cheese shoved in the pockets of your pants for the next two days, skipping your single meal so you can provide him with one filling enough for his size, careful to keep it safe when more men come to paint your body black and blue.

On the dawn of the third week, you're dragged back to your shared cell, and the sight there is enough to make you want to claw at everyone, a rage stronger than you've felt before taking a hold of you. But you abandon it, wishing for no harm to come to Garen.

He looks sickly, like a shadow of himself. His eyes red and empty, his hair mussed as he sits still with his back to the cold stone wall and his legs stretched in front of him.

Your body is pushed, and you fall forwards, crawling your way to your friend as someone locks your chains to the wall fixtures, the door slamming shut behind you afterwards.

"Garen, hey."

His eyes snap to you in disbelief, he looks dreary from up close, his skin paler than before, cheeks growing gaunt, purple eyebags decorating the skin below his clear blue eyes.

"What have they done to you?" He croaks, his arms wrapping around you as his eyes tiredly trail over your bruised body.

"It doesn't matter. I'm here now."

"It does matter." His voice shakes, anger flashing in his eyes, his voice breathless and drawled, dry from dehydration. "Because you do."

"And so do you." You reach in your pockets. "I know they've been starving you, so I've been saving up food for you. It isn't much, but it should do the trick."

"How many days of food is this?"

"Two. It's fine, I'm alright. You take it. Please, Garen you haven't eaten in two weeks."

He shakes his head stubbornly, softness overtaking his gaze.

"No. Go on, eat. I'll be alright, but you need to remain strong and healthy okay? if not for yourself do it for me. I can't do much if I don't have you by my side."

"Garen, you've been starved! Please, at the very least share with me. I can't lose you either, I simply can't. We have to stay strong, the both of us." Your empty hand shakily goes to his chin, your thumb caressing his lower lip and pulling it open.

As soon as you rip some of the bread and put it along with cured meat in a reasonable portion, you place it in his mouth, doing the same for yourself. The two of you chewing, before one of Garen's hands slides to your hair, pulling your head to his, your foreheads touching gently.

After he swallows this first bite, his stomach screams in hunger, the first taste of food in weeks awakening his body to the extent of his hunger.

Claps resound in the room, your head and Garen's gaze snapping to the closing door behind you, Sylas sauntering in the room with his sadistic smirk. His eyes trained on the both of you with satisfaction.

"How cute, the lady feeding a starving dog. Now, don't stop on my account, this is too sweet to miss." He muses.

You glower yet you reach in your pockets again, repeating your previous actions until your pockets go empty.

"I'm sorry I don't have more." You sigh softly.

"Never apologize, dove. You doing this is already much more than you should have done in the first place. Thank you. For caring for me in such a way." Garen whispers to you, his forehead on yours once more.

"I came here for entertainment. So how about we stop whispering and start having fun, mh?"

The mage rips you away from Garen's arms, too weak to fight back, a kick delivered to your friend as you slam against a wall. Your bruised back sending wave after wave of white hot pain. You crawl back to the both of them as another kick is delivered, your arms wrapping around Sylas' ankles to prevent a third one.

"Stop!" Your voice goes raw from the yell. "Please, just stop. Hurt me again, do whatever you want to me, I don't care. Just don't hurt him." You choke out shakily. "Please stop hurting him."

When Sylas turns to you, you see the smug, self-satisfied look over his face.

"Look at this Commander, your Captain is protecting you! That's just heartwarming." He places a hand over his chest, swooning. "Oh, young love."

Your hair is grabbed, your body half lifted from the floor as your scalp burns from the sudden harsh grip. You grit your teeth, eyes closed in pain and fist clenching to not fight back as you repeat a mantra in your mind.

If you hurt him, he'll hurt Garen. If you hurt him, he'll hurt Garen. If you hurt him, he'll hurt Garen. If you hurt him, he'll hurt Garen.

"She's obedient too." He says with faked sweetness. "But I suppose that's to be expected from a good little soldier, mh darling?"

You open your eyes to glare at the man, his tongue clicking in his mouth at the sight of your sneer.

"Answer while I talk to you, darling." He grips your throat softly and you shake, visions of your fight against him coming back and forcing gasps to escape your lungs. Quick and harsh, like you are being choked and lack air.

But you're not, and don't. Even if your body reacts like it's the case.

"Let her go, Sylas. Can't you see she's had enough." Garen spits out, his eyes desperate as he looks at you and reaches up.

"She will have enough when I say she does. And that is when she answers me like a proper lady and answers when she's spoken to." He clips back, Garen widening his eyes as you are lifted up by your hair.

Your eyes grow wet with tears that soon break the dam of your lashes, dripping down your face, leaving trails of salt water on your cheeks that Sylas licks away.

"You disgusting prick." Garen glowers, trying to get up before the man holding you up chokes you further, your mind sent into a terrified frenzy, more tears running down your face along with cries for help.

"Shh, darling." He shushes. "Just answer, like you're supposed to and you won't get hurt." His voice is sickly sweet.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Yes, I'm a good little soldier." You shake, sobs escaping you as he hums in approval.

"Why?"

"Because I'm obedient."

"Good girl. See? That Wasn't hard. You should learn from her Garen, unless you want more harm done."

But as his hand travels from your purple neck to your cheek, his face nuzzling in the crook of your neck, you hear your Commander call out weakly and shakily from the ground.

“Fine, I'll do it." His eyes are glossy, chest heaving as he trembles, his hands twitching at his sides. "I'll do whatever you want just, please I beg of you, keep your hands off of her.”

Sylas drops you and Garen swoops you in his arms, cradling you to his chest.

"There you are. Good to see you've learned." The man caresses your friend's face softly, slapping his cheek haughtily. "Now. Why the hell didn't you take your chance, mh?"

Garen swallows, his eyes glaring upwards to Sylas. "What do you mean?" His voice is low, restrained to not let himself say something that could get you two punished, especially you.

"Don't play clueless, Commander. It doesn't suit you." The mage articulates slowly, his eye twitching. "You like your little lady friend. A lot more than you should. But that's why you haven't confessed, right? Because you're afraid of how you'll be seen, how she'll be seen. You wanted to do good by her, be a gentleman, treat her like a proper lady, but you've never found the courage to for gods know how long. But it doesn't keep you from wanting her, and you want her so gods damned bad, don't you? Otherwise you wouldn't be protecting her like this. So willing to take all that I give you like a good little bitch."

His face gets closer and you curl on yourself tighter, trying to will yourself into disappearing from the room, making yourself as small as possible. Untouchable by the man breaching your space.

"I…I don't know what you mean."

The small slaps stop and Garen's face snaps to the side, reddened by the sudden strike from Sylas.

"Don't you fucking lie to me, King's Sword. Now let's try this again, shall we?" The man breathes, caressing your friend's face with a fake pout. "You want her, don't you?"

Garen's arms tighten around you before he sighs, kissing your forehead.

"I do." Weakly comes out of his lips.

"What's that? I didn't hear you."

"If I didn't want her to be mine, then I wouldn't be here, holding her bruised body while you still breathe. You would be dead and so would she. But….I can't- I can't let harm come to her." He rests his chin above you, the rumble of his chest soothing your tears. "I love her too much to be without her. I don't think I could live with myself."

Your head lifts and your gazes meet, your eyebrows raising as a hand climbs to caress his face.

"Garen?"

"I'm sorry I didn't say it before. And I'm sorry this is how you learn. I just didn't want to-"

"-Lose me?" He nods and you huff out a weak laugh. "I don't think you could have. Not then, not now, not ever."

His eyes widen, his mind quickly linking the dots together before his eyes gloss over once more, a soft sniffle escaping him as he rubs your noses together.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." The way he calls out your name is broken, to which you respond with a multitude of soft "It's okay".

"I love playing matchmaker. Look at you two, aren't you just the cutest." Sylas swoons. "Now, what do lovers do, Captain?"

You shake as his attention returns to you, taking deep breaths to calm yourself down.

"They….kiss?"

"Good girl. What else?"

Images come to your mind, flashes of nude bodies tangling, soft moaning and touches fueling desires further as you grow fuller and fuller. Garen's eyes staring at you, half lidded and filled with adoration, his name slipping from your lips as you whimper, your nails sliding down his back while his arms hold you closer and closer as if to fuse you within his body. It's hot, slow, deliberate and purposeful, the love you hold for one another making the moment nothing short of holy.

But your fantasy is cut short when a hand grips your jaw.

"What. Else?" Sylas spits out, his eyes slicing through you viciously. "I know you've got an idea, pet. Come on, don't be shy."

You swallow, throat now too dry, the hand at your jaw tightening. "…They make love."

You're rewarded with your jaw being freed from the bruising grip, the calloused hand now resting on Garen's head. Petting away like one would a dog.

"And he hasn't done that, has he? But you've wanted to for so long. Haven't you?"

You nod and Garen's hair is suddenly pulled, his head tilted upwards.

"Look at that, Garen. All's well in the world, the hero can have the girl. How sweet." His voice lowers to a rumble. "And you want to fuck her too, don't you?"

"Yes." Garen grits out.

"How badly?"

The man beneath you shakes, shivers racking through him as he looks down at you apologetically. "So much I touch myself to the thought of her."

A maniacal chuckle escapes Sylas. "And you finally have a chance to do what you've craved for so long. How serendipitous."

The man leaves your side before you hear him drag something back to you, a thud resounding as you look at him, now sitting on a chair.

"Now that we've established you two love one another, what's stopping you? Go on, Commander, take what's rightfully yours."

"How dare you?" Garen shifts, his voice biting as he brings you even closer. "We won't be doing this. Not here, and even less in your presence, you psychotic scum."

"Let me reiterate in a way that you can understand you mindless meat shield." The chair creaks as Sylas leans forwards, elbows on his knees. "You will fuck her, right here, right now. You have no choice."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll make you wish you had. If you'd rather be a coward than take her, I guess I'll have my turn. Take her for myself. Fuck her like you would never be able to, make her feel better than you ever could."

Garen tenses, his breathing heavy and loud. His face twisted by anger as he swallows, pure disdain setting every inch in his body.

"You fucking-"

"Such a foul mouth, Commander. If you don't want your sweetheart to pay for your actions, I suggest you don't try me. I'm offering you all you've ever wanted and that's how you reward me? By insulting me?"

Sylas leans back on his chair, his legs spread wide open as he looks down upon the two of you, his face stone cold as his patience runs thin.

"If you decide to continue that way I'll have no choice but to make you watch as you lose her to me, I'll make you see and hear all you will never be able to achieve. Call your pathetic display 'manners' or whatever you wish, I'll call it how it is. You're pathetic, and now I'll indulge as you break. I'll take away from you the chance I'm giving you so generously, to use her pretty little cunt like you've dreamed to while you desperately fisted your cock like a bitch in heat."

Garen struggles as he lifts the both of you off of the ground, his hands never leaving you as he uses his back to push himself up, backing the two of you into the corner the farthest away from Sylas that you can reach with your chains binding you to the wall.

"Or maybe I'll just make it worse on you. make you break her, make her see just how truly despicable you are. How beastly you can be. How monstrous. I'll have you ruin her for me, enact my vision, lay my claim through you. But you'll feel her, oh yes that you will. You'll obey or I'll take her from you and make you watch as I mold her to my shape and take away all you ever desired from her for myself."

Your throat goes dry, eyes wide as the conversation continues, Garen's arms protecting you from none of the horrible words thrown your way. Long gone is the vision of you, a noble soldier serving a noble cause, and you are reduced to nothing but a way to hurt the man you love. His grip tight, warm yet doing nothing to comfort you anymore as you're confronted with the cruelty of your enemy's creative mind.

Mages are beasts. Mages are monsters. And this simply proves to you that you are right in thinking so.

Bile rising in your throat in disgust as Garen goes to defend you again.

"I won't defile her just so you can have your fun, Sylas. She deserves something delicate, not your beastly ways. You may hate me and torture me all you want but don't you dare suggest something that involves her."

"I suggest you tone down on the rebuttals, boy. She's as much of a murderer as you are and thus she deserves this as much as you do. I'll do as I please with the both of you until I am satisfied to make you pay for all you've done. All the lives you took. Now whether she's delicate or not, I don't give a fuck. And the less you entertain me, the more you fight back, the worse it'll be for you."

The response is nonchalant, devoid of any empathy or humanity as you are regarded as a pawn in this vile game.

"Would you let harm come to her because you refuse to give in to your base instincts? Or better yet." The tone grows condescending. "Will you let Garen be hurt because of his inaction, when something so simple can be done? When you can enjoy each other the way you've craved for a long time. I will just be a bystander enjoying the show."

The chair creaks as he stands, getting closer.

"Or do you wish me to be more than that?" Sylas' hands trail up your ribs.

"Get your filthy hands off of her, you monster."

"Ah-ah." Sings the older man. "Wrong answer." His lips trail up your neck. "Try again, Commander."

The realization comes like a twisted epiphany. Sylas will not relent, he will use this weakness of yours to break the two of you, burn you alive until nothing is left but ashes. And a failure to comply will surely lead one of you to their demise, untimely, gruesome and sadistic, in the name of revenge. A death that will leave the other a shell of themselves.

But then comes the question of what would be left of you if you did go on with his maniacal plans.

Garen, the sweet man he is, will never touch you in a way that degrades or demean you. Preferring to care for you like a gentleman, his eyes never wild, his words always thought out, his touches soft and gentle.

And that would leave Sylas.

A man who would take and take and take, until nothing is left of you. A man who would hollow out a space for himself in your heart in order to wring it dry for his own pleasure. A man who would care not for your pleasure nor your comfort and only use you until you are nothing but a broken toy he wants nothing to do with anymore.

And that would be much more horrible than death for you. You'd rather die with dignity than live with yourself after such an event.

"Garen." You call out softly, your hand cradling his cheek softly, thumb caressing the edge of his jaw. "It's okay, you don't have to do it, you don't have to let him win."

"He'll hurt you."

"But you wouldn't have anything to lose anymore." Your voice is soft as you tremble in his arms. You fear your fate, but trust in his judgment, in the goodness of his heart with the whole of yours.

"Exactly. I wouldn't have anything." His eyes shake in panic, looking to Sylas. "I can't allow that to happen. I'm sorry dove, but I simply can't. I've gone this far for you, and I'll go further if you allow me to. I just need you by my side. I can't live without you. Please." His voice breaks as his gaze maps out your face, as if carving it beneath his eyelids to never forget it.

Your eyes widen at his words. He would let himself be humiliated, led around like a disobedient pet, simply to protect you from harm in any way.

"Do you truly wish to-"

"I can't, on my honor and yours, allow a man like him to defile you in such a way, defile your memory in such a way. I do this with the utmost respect for you as my second in command-" His eyes meet yours, locking your gazes in something so utterly loving that you can't help but feel your heart clench painfully. "-and as the woman I love. So please, please allow me to have you. Allow me to love you even if it's under duress so I don't have to suffer you being harmed any further. I don't think I can handle seeing you hurt anymore."

You take a second to breathe, to get your ideas in place after his display of devotion.

You can't fault him for doing such a thing, for begging in such a way, because you know that you would do the same.

"Okay." You unravel yourself in his arms and he gently sets you on the ground, Sylas stepping back to observe.

Your second hand joins its sister, holding Garen's face with all the gentleness you can muster as you lean on your tip toes, the man before you leaning down to meet you half way. The kiss is tentative, soft, a brush of the lips that is so shy it feels like a simple breeze. And when you pull away, you lick at yours, tasting the remnants of his warmth before locking your eyes with Garen's once more and diving back in. This kiss tangling your lips together in a slow, deliberate dance, your partner's hands holding your hips and encasing you in their warmth, slipping beneath your shirt to caress your skin while you taste each other's sighs and breaths. Tongues meeting shyly with fearful touches, testing the waters before they embrace one another.

Your heartbeat grows faster, Garen's touch electrifying on your bare skin as he pulls at the hem of your shirt, your face pulling away from his and arms raising to let him throw the article of clothing away. Your own hands helping in doing the same for him, revealing a scarred, chiseled chest, abs carved onto his flesh as if it were petricite. And your fingers lose no time in splaying over the taut muscle, hot and shifting beneath your touch.

"Gods I love you." Your name is uttered with the reverence of a preacher in church, praising his deity.

"As do I. I love you Garen, beyond what any words could express."

And your lips meet once more, still soft, loving and gentle, yet displaying more urgency. Your hands exploring the newly revealed skin, Garen's hand undoing your brassiere. His hands don't hesitate to hold and knead at the soft flesh of your breasts as you drop the article to the ground, soft moans leaving you at his ministrations. His thumbs roll over your nipples gently as his face leaves yours, the man kissing his way down your neck, softly sucking, kissing and biting his brand into your skin.

"You're divine." He gets to his knees, kissing down your clavicles, down your sternum, his hands thumbing at the hem of your pants as his mouth finds one of your breasts, suckling on it with a low groan.

One of your hands finds his hair, soft sighs leaving you as it pulls and caresses, the other one finding the belt and button holding your bottoms together and undoing them slowly. Garen's eyes find yours as his lips lavish your other breast and a soft groan escaping his throat in both affirmation and question. Your nod is the only answer he needs as the hooks his thumbs over the hem and pushes it down to your feet, a small movement from you kicking them away.

Garen's lips make their way down again, passing your stomach, down to the last piece of garment you are wearing, his teeth biting the top of it as his eyes never leave yours. He tilts his head down, shifting his body alongside it to pull your underwear down to your ankles, kissing his way back up like a penitent wishing for absolution.

You kneel before him, copying his ministrations as you mark your way down his body, your breathing heavy with nerves and desire as you taste his skin beneath your tongue, your mouth soon feeling the trail of hair below his navel. Your fingers softly pull away at the ties of his trousers and hook around their hem as wall as his drawls', pulling both down as you placate your chest to his, your head tilting up to meet his lips in yet another slow, adoring kiss.

Shivers make their way through your body as you feel him, hot and heavy against your stomach, a moan escaping your mouth only for Garen to taste it, groaning back at the sudden friction on his member. Your hands gripping at his nape and pulling him in further as he gently lays you down on the cold stone, his skin hot as he cradles you close, his lips biting at yours and his tongue lavishing your own before he is forced up.

"As adorable as this is, I'm growing bored. And you don't want that now, do you Commander?" Sylas groans, his hand shoved in Garen's hair before he drops it, gently caressing your hair with false care, his smile soft but his eyes mocking.

You pant, thighs clenching as you look down at the blooming bruises left by Garen's lips on your body and at the thin strip of saliva connecting your mouth to his.

"I'm sorry, dove. I'm so sorry." You shudder, your back arching as he kisses his way back down your body.

"I love you." He palms at your breasts, pushing them together only to kiss and lick while his eyes find yours once more.

"I admire you. Your strength, your devotion, your heart." He kisses down your stomach.

"You are the thing that I desire most in this world. Anything else be damned, the King, the code." He dips and kisses up your inner thighs, his arms hooked below your knees. "You're all I need. Now and forever. And I'll love you with all my heart, do all I can to engrave this fact in your mind."

That is when Sylas' hand takes a hold of Garen's hair once more, his other hand forcing your hips down as lips clash with your molten core. The sudden stimulation enough to make you pant and arch from the floor.

"A whore like you doesn't deserve to talk. But that'll keep you fed and quiet, won't it mutt? You were so hungry weren't you? Then fucking eat." He brings Garen closer, moving his head up and down to make his lips and nose brush against your entrance, up towards your bundle of nerves and back down.

The hands at your thighs grip you tight, your shuddering whimpers growing as Garen inhales, his own groans leaving him. Then you feel it, a tentative brush of his tongue on your clit, then a slight suckle from his plush lips, a nudge of his nose and a long, flattened lick going from your hole to your bud. The movement shy, apologetic, yet beyond pleasurable as your thighs clench around Garen's head and your moans grow.

It takes time, Sylas guiding his head further in your pussy, manually forcing the man between your legs to taste you. But Garen soon needs no more guidance, his lips no longer shy in their sucking, his tongue no longer tentative in its licks, even softly prodding at your entrance. His cadence the same imposed by Sylas. It's fast, desperate, yet even when the man takes his hand out of your partner's head, he continues. Eating a euphemism for the way you are being devoured whole.

Garen's eyes roll back, his groans devolving into moans as he mumbles muffled apologies against your pussy, lavishing it with his mouth, worshiping you as he brings his face closer, his hand gripping your thighs tightly. So much so that you can feel them bruise already, more needy sounds escaping your throat at the prospect of being covered in marks, at the feeling of being eaten by a starving man, at the sounds escaping him. So wet and messy, so hungry and desperate.

"That's it, what a good bitch you make, Commander. Losing yourself like a drunk does with his wine." Sylas is smug as he sits himself back down, his legs crossing and his arms resting on the back rest of the chair while his eyes remain trained on the two of you.

You've never felt such humiliation before. Forced to be left panting and writhing like an animal on the floor as you are ravaged under the command of your mortal enemy. It's shameful, to look into his sadistic gaze while moans are ripped from you under his words. Yet you can't find it in yourself to fight them back, to fight him back, to fight this pleasure.

Especially since Garen is the one so diligently providing it to you, drinking from you like a wanderer lost in the vastness of Shurima, finally setting foot in an oasis.

The man you've wanted for so long is now between your legs, lapping at you in such a way he seems more beast than man. Starving, a dark hunger taking him over yet leaving some of his humanity in the poison haze of lust overtaking his mind.

"You taste divine." He pants.

"I love you." He chants.

"Gods I wish that I had done this earlier. Felt you on my lips, devoured your sweetness and feasted on your ambrosia sooner." His groans reverberate through the whole of your being, rushing your heart, shocking your nerves.

You writhe at his words, each of them heavy with need, dripping with desire just like your cunt is in Garen's mouth, the man letting no drop go to waste as he savors each of them. He worships you, his hands soon caressing your body, wandering as if lost in the haze, his fingers finding your breasts once more to pinch and pull at the stiff buds standing proud on the mounds of flesh.

The tighter your thighs wrap around Garen's head, your feet locking like a vice behind his shoulders, the more he seems to lose himself. His murmured words of love devolving into grunts, his eyes squeezing shut as he indulges in your molten need. With his fervent passion, it doesn't take long for magma to flow through your veins like a volcano, a force of nature so powerful, so raw, so hot, that you feel scorched alive.

It builds and builds, like the pressure of a geyser and you tremble, your tremors spurring Garen on.

"Please."

"Oh what is that?" Sylas smiles wide at the broken plea escaping you, leaning down to mock you, his hand to his ear as he pretends to listen.

"Please let me come. Please I beg of you." Your eyes roll back, nails painfully clawing at the stone beneath you.

"Isn't that sweet, Commander? Your Captain is begging for you." Sylas's boot finds Garen's head, pushing down with its dirty sole. "What do you think you should do? Should you reward her for being so good?"

You feel Garen's head nodding with difficulty between the pressure of the plushness of your legs and the boot shoving him further into your pussy. The answer enough for your enemy to caress his head with his foot, the hard shoe messing up the King's Sword's already mussed hair as his hands find yours.

Fingers intertwined he fully breaches you with his tongue, his nose nudging your clit as he curls up and inebriating himself from your juices, your walls fluttering around the wet muscle. Your hands clench around his, your back arching from the hard floor as your eyes open wide.

You erupt, molten and all consuming pleasure turning your body into a blaze.

But Garen is unrelenting, his hands leaving their spot within yours, squeezing one last time in reassurance, so that one can press on your stomach to set you back down on the floor, the other one dipping below your bottom and unhooking from your thigh.

Hot fingers prod at your entrance, your overstimulated cunt twitching as they circle the same as his tongue does on your clit. Rolling it around like the sweetest of candies, broken moans now escaping Garen's throat as he inches a digit into your warmth. Imagining just how tight you'll feel around him.

His hips involuntarily grind against the ground, the sudden jolt of pleasure coaxing his teeth to nip at your bud, knuckles quickly slamming into you. You try to arch once more, your body running away from the overwhelming yet delicious pain of your ebbing orgasm, its electricity remaining within you as pleasure builds once more. Too much yet too little. Delicious and terrifying.

And you can't help but want more.

Your hips move against Garen's face, the digit inside you curling up, hooking and caressing a spongy spot within that has you screaming as it goes back and forth, another one soon following it in. Their thickness providing a stretch so delicious that you can't help but sing his praise.

"Gods, please. Please never stop. Please Commander, do what you must, do what you wish, but don't stop. You feel so good for me, so perfect. I love you. I love you Commander." Tears well up in your eyes, now glossy and hazy like the fogged stained glass of a church on a cold winter morning.

To Garen, you're as holy as one. The sight of you as divine as the Winged Protector and the whimpers and moans escaping your lips more beautiful than the most sacred of chants. And he makes sure you know it as he lavishes you with abandon, kissing your core as if it were your mouth, scissoring his fingers to coax your walls open. Readying you for his devotion.

No longer does he feel anger, Sylas but an echo in the back of his mind, drunk with your essence and overtaken with the most glorious of hungers. He doesn't mind the shoe on his head, forcing him further into you, letting him ingrain your smell in his nose, your taste in his mouth, your warm wetness on his face. He takes it as a gift, one that locks him to you as he feasts.

No longer does he feel eyes on him, judging, commanding, the words escaping the enemy nothing but a reason to indulge further.

No longer does he feel shackled by responsibility, duty, ethics, morals, by codes and manners.

No, all he feels is you. Your warmth beneath his hands and around his neck, your essence on his tongue and its smell permeating his senses. He can't help but grind his cock on the ground to provide himself pleasure, he aches for you, now more than he ever has. A simple taste spurring his starved heart into throwing himself into this bottomless, spiraling pit of pleasure he never wants to get out of.

He twitches, panting like a feral animal, your hole accommodating a third finger, joining the rest in their relentless stretching. The thick digits reaching places you never could, brushing against every spot that has you screaming out. Sobs finally breaking you apart as tears run down your cheek. You are drowning in pleasure, your skin hot against the cold air of the room, sensitive to every touch, every sound and your hands find their way into Garen's hair as you roll your hips on his face.

The sound he releases as you do that is nothing short of beastly. A growl shaking your already trembling body as he lifts his head.

"Come. Come for me once more, dove, I beg of you. Fill my mouth with your sweet essence, let me consume you whole."

You simply pant, gripping his head tighter and bringing it to you once more, your voice cracking at the strength of your moans as Garen's fingers speed up.

"And I thought mages were supposed to be the beasts." Sylas croons mockingly, delivering a soft kick to your lover's head. "Look at yourself, Commander Crownguard, becoming so similar to those you hate just because of some pussy. How pathetic."

The mockery does nothing but spur Garen on, his cock weeping between his stomach and the floor. His second hand leaves your stomach as he places it on your pelvis, his thumb rubbing your clit with hurried circles as whines leave his throat, his head now resting on your thigh.

"Please, dove. Please I need it. Give it to me, give me your pleasure. Feed me, dove, I'll be good to you, I promise." He mouths and bites at the inside of your plush skin

"Oh, poor thing. So hungry." The foot once on Garen's head pressing down on your stomach. "Give him what he wants, go on darling, ruin him. He's been such a good little mutt for us, he deserves his reward."

You unhook your legs from around your partner's head and slam one of your soles onto his back, forcing him to collide with the ground, a breathless groan leaving his as the whole of his weight slams down, crushing his cock under him. Your other leg spreads away from him so you can look down.

He looks positively ruined. His face is flushed and sweaty, shiny with your slick. His eyes pleading and his lips plump and red, drool escaping the corners of his mouth as he looks up to you with reverence.

"Garen." Your voice is tight as the coil in your stomach, burn now turned into a storm. Electric, volatile, sending shocks through every single one of your nerves. "Take what you're owed. What you deserve. Take me and my pleasure, take all I have to offer you."

"Please, dove. Please, may I cum? Please, I beg of you, I can't hold on anymore. I need you to allow me to-" He whines, the sound cutting his sentence short, his body shifting as he grinds faster, his muscle pulled taut with each shiver racking through him.

The sight of him so undone, the broken sounds he releases along with his begging, the feeling of your cunt stretching around his fingers, his thumb rolling around your clit and the remnants of your past orgasm all come crashing down on you. Your vision flashes white as a guttural scream is ripped from your lungs with the strength of your pleasure, your hands pushing Garen's face towards your core to drink every last bit of your desire, soaking his face with its strength before he latches his mouth on your cunt.

His own lust pushes him to the brink, every sight, smell and feeling destroying the walls of the carefully crafted fortress he has built within himself as he cums, his body jolting as he seeks his own end. Both his stomach and the stone beneath him sticky with his spent while his hands paw at you, leaving your inner thighs to grip the rest on you, caressing and holding on as if you were his lifeline.

He doesn't stop, his mouth devouring all you have to offer until Sylas rips him away from you, your body lifting and trembling from the all consuming pleasure you experience for the second time in a row.

"Now, now." The man scolds, fake sweetness dripping from his words like yours is from Garen's mouth. Your partner panting and whining like a puppy. "Behave, Commander. We're getting to the best part, so be good and get to your knees. Lest you want me to take your privilege away from you, mh?"

Your lover shakily gets to his knees and sits back on his calves while he shakes his head, his eyes deathly terrified.

"Please, no. I promise, I'll be good. I swear. Don't touch her, leave her to me please sir." His cock is twitching, angry and red, sticky with cum yet still hard, painfully so as he leans back to look at you.

"Isn't that cute, a fat cock for a pathetic excuse of a man. At least there is one good thing about you. Maybe you'll be able to please your Captain like the good little obedient bitch you are. But you'll do it on my terms, remember?"

Garen nods.

"Use your words, mutt."

"Yes…" Garen shakily mutters, his eyes still trained on you. Your hole clenching around nothing, the emptiness leaving you whimpering for more while your body begs for respite.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, sir."

"That's a good dog. You learn so quick don't you?" One of Sylas' hands caresses Garen's face while the other brushing your pelvis, making its way to your core, your hips shuddering upwards at the touch. "You're so good for your pretty little girlfriend. But your mouth can only bring you so far, don't you want to fuck her? Look at how open she is now, I'm sure she'd feel so nice wrapped around you."

His hand dips from Garen's cheek to his neck, softly choking the herculean man, now brought to his knees and made a mess.

"So warm." Sylas drops his hand to the ground, scooping up some of Garen's come.

"So tight." He brings his fingers up to Garen's mouth, his other hand leaving you to grip at his jaw, his thumb hooking over his bottom teeth to open his mouth.

"Entirely yours." Coos Sylas, shoving his fingers in your partner's open mouth, letting him taste himself. "Only if you behave. Will you behave? Will you be good for her?"

Garen's eyes roll back at his taste, his tongue rolling over Sylas' fingers as he nods, a needy whine escaping his throat.

"Such a good little slut. Let her taste you and herself on your tongue."

And he obeys, on all fours your Commander crawls over you, one of his hands cradling the back of your head while the other wraps your thigh around his waist, greedily indulging in your lips. It's urgent, desperate, hungry. As if the both of you are starving animals. The combined taste of the both of you has your body arching towards his, broken whimpers mixing with shuddering groans as you grab him tightly by the shoulders, bringing him closer as if willing to mold yourself to him.

"Please let me fill you." He begs in your mouth. "Let me worship you. Tell me you want it, please, tell me you need it as badly as I do."

His cock is burning, heavy on your thigh as he rolls his hips down on you as if he were in heat. The great Commander of Demacia's Dauntless Vanguard, reduced to nothing but a pussy drunk pet, begging for more and never having enough but still the sweet man you fell in love with, full of adoration no matter how utterly gone he is.

"Answer him, darling." Your enemy crouches besides your head, caressing your burning face. "Or would you rather me being the one to ruin your sweet little cunt? Do you think he's had enough?"

No answer can leave you before Garen snaps his head to the man, his gaze holding primal rage while he rips off the unwelcome hand from your soft skin. A combination of hunger, desperation and anger swirling in the crystal clear pools of his eyes, dousing Sylas in their frigid waves.

"You will not defile her with your corrupt touch." He pants, chest heaving against yours, body curled above yours protectively. "You will not touch, taste or indulge in her. Or I swear-"

Garen's head turns, stinging with the force of Sylas' slap, glowering down at him, his gaze disgusted.

"Mind your next words boy. Because as entertaining as it is to see the both of you lose your mind in pleasure like cheap whores, I could indulge in your humiliation in a much different way." The hand returns to your face, sliding over your neck where previous bruises remain, both Sylas' and Garen's, love and hate leaving their traces on you.

Your lover's eyes widen, disarmed when you tense in fear beneath him, teary eyes now glossy for a whole other reason than his ministrations, the terror heightening each feeling.

"Don't. I'm sorry, please don't. Don't hurt her." Garen shakes above you, bringing you closer to him, his heat melting through your skin. "I'll do anything. Anything you want, just stop touching her."

His arms are ripped from you, your body laid back down on the cold stone as his shoulders are pulled back, chains tying his arms behind his back.

"That's your last strike, boy." Sylas' voice is dark, gravelly and hissed, eyes narrowed at Garen before his hand goes to choke him. "I expect you to put on one hell of a show if you don't want anything to happen to your sweetheart, Crownguard. You understand that, right?"

"Yes." Sylas snarls, Garen's eyes shaking as he looks at you, his fingers flexing as he suffers not being able to touch you, map you with his hands as he has until now, the chains digging painfully in his flesh. "Yes, sir."

The enemy hums, his hand leaving the younger man's throat. "I suppose it's commendable that you wish to protect your lover. Though it just shows how loyal you truly are to your country. Rendered useless and weak by a woman."

"She's not just a woman. She's.." Garen's eyes find yours. "..Everything. And I'd do what I have done again if I can have her by my side." His voice is soft as he utters those words, your arms bringing him down to your chest, cradling him close.

"How sweet." Garen's weight crushes you when Sylas stands up, stepping on his strong back and slamming his body down on yours, his cock brushing against your dripping core. "But dogs don't talk, now do they, pup? So I advise you not to bore or challenge me any further."

He pushes your lover further on you, Garen's hips unconsciously rolling against your weeping entrance as fear and arousal mix through your body in perfect amounts to keep you high, compliant, sensitive and desperate. Your own movements matching his.

"Do it Garen, it's okay." You whine against him, your hands pulling his head up to lick and bite at his lips, your own mind gone, coaxing your lover into giving in with you. "Fill me up, take me, claim me."

"Louder sweetheart, his useless little ears don't seem to hear you."

"Please Garen, I feel so empty." You shudder, clawing at his shoulders pathetically, your body rolling beneath his. "Need you so bad." Your voice echoes in the room, broken and meek, the taste of your lover's lips and the warm weight of his body leaving you craving more.

"Can't you hear her cries, Commander? Would you leave her wanting, trembling and begging for you? Would you leave her unsatisfied?" Garen shakes his head in response. "Words, mutt. Use. Your. Words."

"No, sir." Moans the immense man crushing you, panting in the crook of your neck as you drip on him, his twitches vibrating through your clit and letting tremors shake through your body.

"No, what?"

"Need to fill her, need to make her feel good. Need to feel her squeeze around me. Have to- please let me fill her. I can't wait, I can't stop. I don't want to anymore." Garen pants, his tongue licking at the salt of your skin, his muscles tensing.

A moment of silence passes before Sylas' gravelly chuckle cuts through the air.

"Then don't."

It's immediate. Garen's thighs wrap around yours, leaning back to line himself up. His eyes are hungry, yet restrained, his cock twitching against your fluttering hole until with a roll of his hips his tip catches on your entrance. You feel soft thrusts pushing it further.

The stretch is a burn, sharp and continuous, his length much thicker than you could have been prepared for.

You arch, your back elevating from the cold floor, your body suddenly feeling all too sensitive, the stone too cool, the air too electric, Garen's skin against you singeing its marks against yours. You feel like you are being slowly speared open with each movement of your lover's hips, just like the two of you spearhead the enemy forces on the battlefield.

He slides within you, the wait torturous as your muscle tense and your cunt clenches, the vice like grip making it much harder for Garen to slide within you yet helping at the same time, pulling him deeper.

And as soon as you feel his pelvis against yours he waits a moment, whimpering as his muscle shudder, his eyes wet with pleasure as he lets you adjust to his size.

"Didn't you say you couldn't wait anymore?" Sylas kneels behind Garen, holding his hips and pulling him away, your partner whining at the feeling of your hot wetness around his cock chipping away at the last of his consciousness. His head rolls back on the older man's shoulder, his eyes fluttering. "Then fucking ruin her already."

The mage pushes Garen back to the hilt. Buried within your core, you see something snap within your partner. His pelvis moving back and forth, dragging in and out of your cunt with hard snaps as your hands claw down his chest.

It feels good, too good, divine even. The drag of his cock stretching you open as his eyes grow wilder, Sylas stepping back to bring his chair closer and sit, his legs spread wide as he palms himself.

The shame left you long ago, the sight of the man taking pleasure in your fall from the heavens only amplifying the pleasure you feel. Every vein, every passage of Garen's crown, the curve of his length, his panted grunts, all provide more incentive to your desire. His hair is messy, he is sweaty and flushed, your nails leaving their marks besides your hickies as he looks wrecked, feral, unlike anything you've seen before. But he is no longer pathetic and begging, no, his gaze is trained on you like a predator's just about ready to pounce on its prey.

And now that Garen has had a taste of you, his hunger runs deeper than it ever has.

You feel it in the growing speed of his thrusts, shaking your body as he falls forwards, his form curling over yours as he shoves his face in your neck. Grunts changing to growls, long gone are the soft whimpers and the lovely words as he carves out a Garen shaped hole within your core, pulling at everything else within your mind, your body and your heart to only leave space for himself. Overtaking everything that you are.

And you feel nothing but sheer, untamed pleasure.

Losing yourself in it as you squirm beneath the large man, unable to wrap your legs around his hips as he holds them in his, you are unable to escape the stimulation. And unwilling. Your moans growing louder, breathier as you feel him bruising your cervix, knocking at it with his cock as he fucks you like a raging bull. Provoked until he loses all sense of self and simply rushes in, destroying all in his passage, your insides the fortunate victim of his assault.

"Go on mutt." Sylas squeezes himself through his pants, hard and twitching through the fabric as he watches you get ravaged. "Tell her how good it feels to stretch her open."

Garen's eyes are black as you look down, his pupils devouring the blue of his eyes just as he has devoured you mere moments ago. His body rolling with wild abandon above yours while he slams into you, somehow still feeling like he is pushing deeper and deeper each time.

"Fuck. Dove, I love feeling you open up for me, loosening up around my cock. "

"That isn't all you want to say, now is it?" Sylas opens his trousers, spitting in his palm only to trail his fingers down his chest, his hand dipping below the hems of both his bottoms and his undergarment to pull his member free. A relieved sigh escaping him.

"No..."

" Then say it. Say how much you love her clenching around you."

"I adore the feeling of your pussy quivering around me every time I thrust into you."

"You love ruining her don't you, slut?" Garen nods in your neck, heaving as he drives his hips harder and faster at the words.

"I can't get enough, I need to mold your cunt to my shape. Please, dove. Please let me ruin you." His lips find your pulse, mouthing hotly at it, his tongue tasting your skin.

Sylas groans at the sight, his palm passing over his angry red tip, wet from spit and his pearling precum, his other hand brushing through his hair and tugging as a smirk slices through his face.

"Tell her to moan louder. Tell her to let go." He pants, his eyes half lidded as he strokes himself to the relentless rhythm Garen imposes on your body.

"Go on Dove. Sing for me, chant in pleasure and show me just how good I make you feel when I ravage you. Say my name."

"Garen..." You whimper brokenly, hands sliding to Garen's biceps to hold on for dear life, your nerves lit on fire with each new roll of his hips.

"It isn't enough isn't it?"

"Louder, dove." Your partner is mindless, following Sylas' words like the code the two of you have followed for many years within the army, his devotion to your country's laws that has already waned for you fully crumbling under the all consuming desire to claim you.

"Garen!"

Your eyes roll back as he takes himself out of your molten hot cunt, dripping and clenching deliciously around him as he slams himself back in, setting a punishing pace. You squeal, your head slamming on the hard floor as you try to catch the breath he just knocked out of your screaming lungs.

"I said. Louder." You feel your stomach raise and bulge at the sheer size and violence of him, losing more of himself in his chase for ecstasy.

You aren't much better, your mind fully turned off, nothing else matters now but the feeling of the man above you molding you to his shape, using you for his pleasure as he rips yours from your quaking body.

"Please Garen, fuck! Need you, need you so bad. Please don't stop." Your voice grows louder, tears escaping you once more as you float in the haze of your own lust, mindless, greedy and needy, all that the rules you previously abided prohibited you to do.

"So obedient, Commander. She deserves praise." Sylas squeezes himself harder, licking his lips at the sounds you make, each hum, each moan, whimper and whine spurring both him and Garen on further into their endeavor. Ruining you for themselves, each in their own way.

"Good fucking girl. Let's keep it that way, mh dove?"

"Yes Garen. Thank you. Thank you, thank you. Please, destroy me and piece me back together. Carve my insides so no one else can ever take me but you."

The man suddenly leaves you, his body no longer crushing yours and his legs unhooking from your thighs, the emptiness you feel within suddenly jarring, forcing you to squirm on the ground while you beg for more. But you don't have to, not for long as you see Garen lean back on his haunches.

"Legs up on my shoulders. Now."

Your eyes widen at the darkness within his, baited breaths escaping his lungs with urgency? His muscles shift and his cock twitches heavily, your slick leaving a sheen on it as it drips precum on your stomach.

"Now, dove."

You snap out of your stupor and lift your shaky legs to Garen's shoulders, his body immediately bending above yours as he dips his head to the crook of your neck, his teeth teasing your flesh before his hips snap to yours. His length enters you once more, his jaws snapping and trapping some of your skin in their bite, breaking the skin and using it to hang on to you without his hands. This time he doesn't leave time to accommodate the burn and immediately begins thrusting into your warmth, the new position making you feel him much deeper.

Each vein, the drag of his skin as you clench on him, his tip pushing against your innermost parts. He fucks you like a feral animal, all caution thrown to the window as you sob for him, singing his praises and crying out his name, his answers given in the form of choked out grunts, moans low and huffed.

Meanwhile the mage' stomach shudders his own groans growing louder as he tastes the fingers he used to touch your weeping cunt before, his eyes rolling back and his hips rolling into his hand. His form suddenly getting up and kneeling besides your face, the sight of his cock dripping on you making you open your mouth. Unwilling to waste a single drop of what he has to give.

"That's it, sweetheart. Open wide."

Your tongue barely has the time to taste a drop of the bitter liquid before Garen pushes Sylas away with his shoulder, his mouth finding yours to kiss away the offense just done against you. The insult corrupting your velvet tongue washed from your taste buds, his face coming up as he lets his spit drip in your mouth, overtaking your taste buds with the metallic flavor of your blood.

"Close your mouth. Don't you dare let him in, you'll taste me and only me, dove. Do you understand?"

You nod at Garen, moaning as his thrust roll into that one spot within you, the same he caressed within you earlier while stretching you open on his fingers, your body tensing and trembling as he goes to bite your neck again.

"Good girl-" His sentence is cut short as Sylas grabs his hair, pulling his head back and presenting his cock to the larger man who immediately glares as his cheek is slapped with the twitching length.

"Go on. Since you won't let her have a taste, do it yourself. Open that disgusting little mouth and taste me, Crownguard. Either you do it, or she does, your choice Commander. right now i feel like she'd love to taste just about anyone's cum with how well you're fucking her. Good Commander, you've made your girl into a pretty, mindless little slut.”

Garen's eyes trail to you, his eyebrows furrowing as his lips turn down to a soft frown, his body dipping back to you despite the sharp tug on his hair your own face screwing as the words hit hard through your sensitive haze. Not only your body but also your heart feeling more than ever before.

"Dove, don't listen to him. You're far from being anything he says, you're beautiful, precious, intelligent. You matter more than anything you can give, yet all you ever do is beyond perfection. His words mean nothing, let them pass they're worthless-"

"Are you going to start crying next Crownguard? Ha! Don't bore me with your soliloquy, Garen. Ruin her or I'll do it for you, and I'll have her scream my name so loud you will never look at her without the sound of her voice whining for me ringing in your head, without the sight of my cock stretching her open engraved behind your eyelids."

Garen's face twists in anger as he straightens back up.

"You won't speak about her in such a way again."

"Seems like the mutt grows a spine for his bitch doesn't he? I'm going to teach you not to bite back at me, boy." Sylas presents himself to Garen once more, his hand tugging painfully at the brown locks as he rubs his precum over the younger man's lips, leaving them with a glossy sheen. "Now open up wide and take it or she'll pay the price for your insubordination."

Your lover stills within you, his eyes gazing at you longingly before he looks up, lips opening to accommodate Sylas' length as he bends down to take it in his mouth.

"And don't you dare fucking bite, because it'll be more than her sweet cunt that I'll take if you fuck up. One. Last. Time. I've already been too gracious to you." The mage's eyes roll back as he feels the warmth of Garen's throat, immediately shoving himself and using the mouth holding him as a toy. "Now go on, fill her up. Don't mind me."

The sight before you is as glorious as it is dirty. Sylas' hips snapping against the Commander's face as he ruts into you, your back rattling at the sheer strength behind each thrust. Garen chokes yet learns to relax his throat and swallow around the older man's length, the sounds of his mouth sloppily sucking mixing with the wet slaps of his hips against yours, his whines, Sylas' growing groans and your own pathetic, broken moans. Your mind unable to register anything but the pure eroticism of the scene and the unbridled pleasure you feel. Your body shaken down to its every atom, shaking as your veins pump lava in your body, your nerves frying from the sheer amount of electric ecstasy running through them.

"Garen." You claw down his chest, your body writhing as you come closer and closer to the brink. Your voice is breathless, whiny, and broken as you arch up, calling out to your lover like a believer does their god. "Garen please, please I need it. Please give me everything. Please."

His sounds are choked and muffled before Sylas slides his mouth off of his cock.

"Go on, answer." Comes his snappy answer, rough and gravelly with the need to meet his own pleasure. "Tell your dove to come around you and milk you dry. Cause that's what you want right, mutt? And she's been so good, hasn't she?"

"Yes, sir."

"So fucking say it."

Garen swallows, his throat rough from the treatment as his hips snap against yours with more fervor.

"You can do it, dove. That's it, you can let go for me. Come around my cock, let me bleed you dry of your pleasure, let me bring you to ruin. You can do that for me, can't you? Then be good and come for me, soak me in your juices and clench around me to milk me dry like I know you can."

And at his breathless answer your body goes slack, loud sobs ripped from your throat as you gush around him, your nails digging bloody crescents into his shoulders.

"Gods, let me fill you up, dove. You can take, it can't you? You can take being stretched full and filled to the brim by my come. I know you can. Because you're perfect for me. You're tightening around me so well already, it's like you're begging for it. But don't worry, I'll reward you, I'll reward you for being so utterly perfect for me, dove." Your needy whine is enough of an answer for him to double over, his thrusts growing sloppy before he buries himself deep within you, his tip molding to your cervix as he empties himself. The heavy, molten feeling of his cum filling you up pushing you past the delicious pleasure of your orgasm, the pleasure now past the threshold of mind numbing. Your mind fully gone as you float in an ocean of ecstasy.

"Swallow, mutt." The mage shoves himself down Garen's throat one last time, reaching past his own brink and flooding the warm mouth entrapping him with bitter spent. Sylas' cock pulled out as soon as he finishes while your lover chokes on air, face screwed at the taste and humiliation of what had just been done to him.

The three of you are left panting. Your body a puddle on the floor as Garen leaves the warmth of your cunt to bend over you, lavishing your body with kisses, nuzzling his face against your skin.

"I'm so sorry, dove." He mumbles exhausted against your skin, his blue eyes now back to their usual state as grief paints his face, shame and fear swirling in his eyes before you cradle his face. Bringing him back up, your lips meet his, wiping away at Sylas' taste the same way he had for you.

"I'm glad it was you." You breathe on his lips, your touch shaky before your lips reach his, your kiss filled with adoration. Slow and sweet, filled with as much emotion as you can muster at this very moment. "Even if it had to happen this way."

"Gods, you two make me sick." The sound has you and Garen snap your head to the side, Sylas tucked back into his trousers as he gets up with a sigh. "But you did keep me entertained, so I will not complain."

He reaches into his open vest, pulling out a letter, throwing it to the ground besides you.

"Your king accepted our terms." He hums. "I suppose you were as important as you seemed to be. How fortunate for you."

He scoffs while he undoes the chains holding Garen's hands together. The man immediately taking you in an embrace, shielding your body away from Sylas, his form dwarfing and hiding yours.

"What are they?" Your voice murmurs, tired and strained, your body trembling as you begin to grow colder. The heat from your passion fueled activities slowly ebbing away.

"To change your code." He grunts, getting back up and regarding your intertwined bodies with disdain. "Thou shall not kill mages anymore, no more witch hunts, no more senseless murder. We'll depart in a week's time to bring you back to the edge of Demacia. Behave until then."

He grips at the chair he had brought with him, dragging it along with you as he leaves.

"If it means anything." His voice calls out, his eyes narrowed and nearly glowing, visible even in the dim room. "You two may not be as rotten as the rest of them." And the door slams, loudly and heavily before you are left alone with Garen.

His arms hold you close as he whispers apologies and sweet nothing in your ears, and although you know you should be ashamed, disgusted and terrified, you can't find it in yourself to feel this way. And it may be because of the exhaustion, or because of the delight you feel in finally being held in Garen's arms as a lover, but that is a problem you wish to not confront for now, simply basking in his devotion.

So, as your lover's warm hands caress you with the same gentleness they always hold for you, you feel yourself being pulled to sleep. The cold ground and air nothing against the warmth of Garen's body.

"I love you." You weakly call out, your face nuzzled in his chest, voice muffled as you listen to his heart beating.

"I love you too." His chin is softly laid on the crown on your head after his lips find your forehead, his deep breaths rocking you against his chest. "More than any words can say. When we get back to Demacia, perhaps I could…properly court you? I don't think that I could go back to hiding myself after today. I already ran away for too long, and I can't let anything come between us anymore, not even myself."

You smile tiredly, kissing the spot above his gentle, golden heart. Your head turning back to lay on the soft muscle soon after.

"That'd be nice… Finally being yours."

His arms wrap tighter against you and you feel him nod as exhaustion finally overtakes you.

"Yes, dove. It'd be nice."

No matter how hard and cruel the world is. How painful or shameful it may make you feel. It'd be alright if Garen is by your side. You are Demacia's strongest soldiers after all, and your might remains strong, even through the harsh storms willing to capsize you. You’ll come home together, and you’ll rebuild yourself by his side, even if your nation changes around you. You’ll have his heart and hold it dear as he will yours, and the two of you will find a way to make it as you always do.

Yes. Despite it all, you'd be alright.

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deepreviewvoid · 2 years ago

Text

- foreseen punishment, foreseen misery -

pm Dazai × gn Reader!

+ mentions of Chuuya, Ango & Mori

Genre : 100% Shenanigans, Slight Fluff, Slight Angst

Synopsis : the port mafia reigns victorious once again, some see it's worth, others completely diregard it because foreseen misery is regardless. Ft. Shenanigans in various port locations with Dazai.

Background : Odasaku is also the reader's friend, and you have a special ability, it allows you to manipulate / brainwash the enemy's mind for your gains, it comes at a cost, minor memory loss.

Triggers : port mafia stuff

The Port Mafia just crushed an entire organisation from stem to root in a one week length operation. It was a no-brainer, defeat was a taste that most forgot about ever since Mori reigned. It's hard to salt the wounds when there's none.

If the mafia is always securing its spot as Yokohama's top underground monopoly, then this said group had no chance, but, they provoked the mafia and soon enough their demise entailed.

This operation was mostly masterminded by Dazai who divided the squads and the attack patterns; with Mori pulling everyone's strings, it was an inevitable crushing victory, however, once the curtains finally close, the casualties become apparent.

You didn't need to wait for curtains, your squad perished infront of your eyes during the latest phase. It was all because of a single crucial mistake that spiraled into a loss.

Mistakes have owners whom happens to be Akutagawa in this case.

--- At HQ

The sun is setting, hallways at HQ are much noisier than usual, a smile was evident on every person's face. Men wearing black suits, holding guns and smiling . . . how bizarre of a scene it would be if a mediocre man were to walk here, safe to say no one here can be considered mediocre when the majority's blood is as black as these suits, even for the low ranks.

Their hideous laughter filed the hallways, this victory still had merits for them. You're usually better off acting deaf, and it's no exception today; you crossed the hallways with complete ignorance, throwing in a few glares here and there when the noises got too barbaric, too raucous for a delicate human's ear.

They cleared their throats upon realising that your eyes lingered, let's just say that your reputation exceeds you in the mafia, unfortunately, not for your feats, but rather your sickening ability. If you were to gaze just long enough into another's eyes, they would fall under your control, they would speak of what you desired and act as you wish. That's why, you were invaluable when it came to the interrogation ward.

Floor by floor, the higher you ascended, the more pompous the party seems, because up in the tower resided the higher ups, and they were none the wiser.

The higher ups were a different breed, they're ecstatic, greedy, their boarish laughters echoing, getting hysterically louder. They're practically drowning in their lust for victory, stepping their heels on fancy carpets drowned in fine wine.

Upon reaching the top floor suit, you were finally glad to have reached the pinnacle of the tower, up where it quiets down, because this is where the king resides. You walked out the elevator after passing security verification, eventually to your destination, a large mahogany door stood tall.

Mori isn't a fun king, this door, especially this door and its walls are soundproof. You could barely make out some murmurs from the inside even if you were attentive to listen, hence it's pointless to just stand idly. You pushed the grand door open and stepped inside, the extravagant office is illuminated by the last rays of the sunlight for the day.

"Welcome y/n, I was hoping you'd come around" Mori was smiling, sitting diligently yet comfortablly in his fine wood chair like the mad Doctor he is. Infront of the Mori's desk stood Dazai, who acknowledged your presence by turning to face you.

There's a hierarchy, and Mori's authority is on top, so it was customary as you did a slight bow "Boss" addressing him in a monotone voice, you lifted your head once more, gazing back at him.

"It seems that you're unscathed, for the most part" his eyes landed on your bandaged hand, which you recently injured when a gunshot jabbed its way. "Even so your squad got the short end of the stick. Quite fortuitous, don't you think?"

You didn't reply. It wasn't by luck that you're alive, you were forced to make extensive use of your ability to get you and the few men left of the weeds.

His eyes lingered on your right hand for a moment too long, "I could take a look at it, it's not tightly wrapped" you anticipated this, so you shunned him almost immediately "no thanks"

"Pity" he said, with a slight tone of disappointment "We were just discussing the pay offs of this operation, but above all, I'm eager for your personal report"

Information, you're good at gathering it.

Infromation is also the mafia's top asset interms of it's profound importance, the gifted come second.

After brainwashing targeted individuals, you gathered crucial intel, so the report you handed him was priceless. Mori's eyes gave this paper all the attention it deserves and satisfaction soon plastered his face.

"very good" was all he said in a bemused tone, after feasting his eyes, he discarded this paper to the side and it was picked up by Dazai to view who mumbled something like: "Not too far from expectations"

Dazai's predictions were aligned with what you gathered, this organisation had a few strings to pull with, and now its apparent where they pulled them from.

They began bickering sbout 'their next move'.

The mafia's prosperity is currently being masterminded by them, the ideas they produce seem inscrutable, devious and so intricate, because they even plan each domino's spot as it falls ontop of another.

You were fixated to where you stood, awaiting any notice, however, Mori didn't speak of further demands, so you simply excused yourself.

"If that's all then excuse me" you said, turning away, and towards your next destination, Dazai's voice rang "So soon?" He called out in a voice of petite light-heartedness.

You halted, "If its about Akutagawa, you know where to find me"

Akutagawa's blind mistake, his disobedience to Dazai during the final stage of the operation costed mafia lives. Dazai was undoubtedly going to inquire a retelling of events, and regardless, Akutagawa's punishment is foreseen.

"That's what you say everytime" mockingly yet jokingly he complained, "you're awfully hard to find once you're gone, just wait a minute for me okay?"

a small breath escaped as you smiled, it baffled you how Dazai, the literal genius often complains to you about how arduous it is to locate you. The smile turned into a tiny chuckle, "One minute" you said, leaving the office.

The hallway just outside the door was spacious, equipped with the higher up groove which consisted of fancy wallpaper, fancy furniture, fancy carpets, fancy shamncy. . . Resting at some random boujee chair, you waited.

Shortly after, Dazai exited Mori's office and sat on the second vacant chair beside you. "I was serious, ya'know" he sat down lazily like a cat, gesturing around he spoke "you have a diligent habit of going mia" he complained once again, so, naturally, you complained back.

"I'm not thaaat hard to find,Besides, you're capable of finding whoever you want on a whim, and 'mia' is better fitting for a boy who likes to go dumpster diving"

"Point taken!" He placed a hand on his chest for a touch of dramatic flare, but, assuming that Dazai is in an actual good mood is a grave mistake. "You don't forge many habits, so it's hard to track you down"

"I assure you I'm not that mysterious" you casually said,giving him a rather conspicuous glance "so, Akutagawa? Why don't you interrogate him yourself as his mentor?" You asked, immediately answering yourself, "Oh wait! You won't interrogate him yet to impose psychological fear in anticipation of the coming punshiment" you jested.

Anticipation can cause serious anxiety, it can jumble a humans mind, and influence their behaviour especially when the anticipated is already foreseen.

"You read my mind" he smiled, a tinge of sinister mixed with some cruelty in that smile, just like how Mori was so bemused, Dazai couldn't get further from being his spitting image. "I'd like to hear your version of events first"

"Ever heard of reverse psychology? It's the main casual factor" you explained, leaning on the small high legged table, "Akutagawa's very diligence in heeding your orders, is also the reason that vexation carried him away"

Akutagawa was deployed on your squad by Dazai, he were to act as the main defensive mechanism, to safe guard your position while Dazai and Chuuya carried the front line.

Your ability alone is no good, it's a poker card that could only do so much.

"He charged full-offensive at an attacking party, which left me and my squad in a peril, that's when it happened"

"Do you know what that means?" you asked, in a manner of leading the conversation.

"The prophecy you made about a surprise ambush was true, Akutagawa knew that it would happen, yet his arrogance led him away like a stray dog"

Akutagawa's arrogance is the consequence of Dazai's torment, yet, he idolises Dazai; and you loathed this because it fed Dazai's ego.

"That's all you need to know"

Dazai quietly took in the infromation, your point of view for the events, your analysis on Akutagawa's behaviour. His eyes not focused on something in particular, as if lost in procrastination, then, he spoke "Look at that", he pointed at your right hand, "its bleeding"

Up untill his remark, you were numb to the ache, you carefully removed your hand from your cheek, the wound reopened, blood seeping from the bandages that were pathetically tied by an unexperienced apothecary.

You wiped off your smudged cheek the clean side of the bandages, you couldn't curse yourself, its your dominant hand, you were bound to unconsciously cause harm to it in its fragile state. However, Blood here was normal, this is normal, this is casual mafia stuff, it's normal to shrug it off.

Your eyes flew back to Dazai who was staring, probably the entire time, "Anything else you need?" Pulling the bandages tighter, the bleeding temporarily pausing.

"Glad you asked, you still owe me a drink"

"That was over a rock-paper-scissors game that you gaslighted Chuuya to play last week Correction: he owes you a drink"

"Not that one, the other one"

"You made a bet with Odasaku over whether or not Ango would show up to the bar, Oda's the one who owes you, why am I still involved here?" You slumped your shoulder at these short-comings, you didnt like where this is going.

Dazai gaslighting and making bets were something that you grew immune to, but he always found a way to still drag you into it.

"Odasaku lost, and placed the bill for the drink on your tab since he spends so much on the orphans, I was sure he informed you!" He said, in an act-innocent kind of tone, cooing you in the process.

You paused for a moment, combing through the memories to confirm his claim, which happened to be true. . . Poor man Odasaku couldn't handle him, you chuckled amidst your defeat saying, "Alright I'll be sure to buy something very special like some bleach"

"Great! I'll be eagerly waiting for that" he stood up, his posture suddenly energetic. You looked up, noticing yet another questionable smile, "I'll go raid Ango's office, you coming?"

"I completely forgot about that" you stood up as well, "We probably gave him three nighters worth of work with that mess"

"First, you might want to patch your hand up, the last thing you want to do is spill a drop in his office"

"Oh yeah, didn't you sneeze some mucus into one of the ledgers before?"

"Don't look at me as if I was caught, of course not"

--- Ango's office

Dazai didn't bother knocking, he simply shouted a in a hurried manner "Ango, I'm coming in!" He pushed the large door open, you two peeked inside to see an irritated yet exhausted Ango, who was visibly annoyed at the both of you for the interruption, especially Dazai, but Dazai was already stepping inside like he owns the place with you following suit into the archive like room.

Ango eventually sighed as he gently settled down his ink pen in its holder, then, he took off his glasses and started to clean the glass with a delicate cotton piece. It was as if he's been working tirelessly for hours, and only then did he remember to do such basic yet necessary actions.

"How may I assist you?" He calmly spoke, with a very subtle hint of anxiety.

Dazai forced a sly grin as he walked to Ango's desk in long strides "Oh, don't be so gloomy Ango, I'm here to check on your well being"

"What Dazai means to say is, 'I hope you're not drooling over the causalities again'" You cut off Dazai as if to save Ango from his antics.

When you both reached his desk, you sighed synchronically as your eyes peered over the view.

Piles of papper, seals of all sizes, file holders and ledger books scattered everywhere, yet Ango managed to keep a small spot organised to be able to document properly.

"I had my doubts" Dazai crossed his arms, carefully giving all the papers a thoughtful glance, you noticed that he clenched his fist, clearly irritated about something, and you knew exactly what it was, it's the Akutagawa situation. (Who would have guessed?!)

"Sixty-two men in total" Ango lifted a finger to the middle of his glasses, "This operation alone has peaked the count of last year's entire fatalities, so if anything, I should be 'drooling' over it. These families need proper closure, and proper condolences cash distribution" Ango looked up at Dazai as he calmly spoke, then, he shifted his gaze towards you "your unit accounts for the most", he added, and it only made you irritated.

"I know" disappointment mixed with resentment washed over you. Originally, you estimated that your unfortunate squad lost thirty men, that's proportionally half of the total count, which implies that the severity of the loss could have been greatly reduced should have Akutagawa made the right choice.

Safe to say, Dazai had the same thought, he was purely displeased, disgusted, and a many other words to describe a face that lacks mercy, a face that is glaring into the future of an already foreseen punishment, but now he's staring at you with those menacing eyes.

"Truly misfortunate" Dazai said, in the midst of almost clenching his teeth, it must suck when he's already foreseen everything, yet his orders go defied.

Ango lowered his gaze to the table clock, it's almost midnight now, not that it matters, he'll most likely be staying untill sunrise.

"I have to finish these documents, excuse me" Ango held his ink pen once more and shifted his focus back towards his work rather awkwardly.

"Sorry Ango, you're practically a one man army in this cursed job description, wish I could help you but oh well" you raised your injured hand into view, there's no way you could hold anything with it without running with the risk of re-opening it again.

"Thank you, inspite of the situation, perhaps you could have helped if you had a more refined handwriting"

"Seriously" you rolled your eyes to the ceiling of this dimly lit room, "Good one Ango!" Dazai cheered on the side.

Dazai's temperament was still apparent, not at the loss of sixty-so men, Dazai simply does not care about death or carnage, he's fully pissed off by Akutagawa.

The thought of Akutagawa probably fuels him all the more motivation to go out there and punch him, "Well, we won't bother you for much longer, your plate is already full" Dazai said.

You two existed Ango's office, and with a quick 'cya', you went one way, and he went the other.

---------------------------------------------------

After that night, you were bombarded with more work, too much work. Mori and Executive Kōyō were always too confident in your ability, too comfortable with the exploitation of this gruesome psychological ability, too careless, because they couldn't care less about the consequences, the forgetful state it puts you in.

Executive Kōyō frequently required your presence in her extreme interrogations, her torture methods are very variable and sometimes, she likes to spice things up by letting you break their minds. Information gathering and mind breaking is what you're good for in the mafia.

Everybody knew that much.

--- Two days later, at HQ.

It was a normal day like any other, sun sets down over Yokohama, night time settles in and mafia work begins. You were just walking out of the interrogation ward when a certain orange haired fellow approached you.

"lookin' awfully depressed as usual" Chuuya mumbled, approaching you whilst adjusting his hat. "Woah, get your vision straight, im not Dazai" you scoffed, still walking in whatever direction you were heading, forcing Chuuya to follow to keep up the conversation.

He smirked at your dainty reply, "You interrogation freaks are creepy" he never liked interrogation, nor Kōyō, he fully meant the emphasis on the word 'creepy'

"Also, you are very much Dazai. The way I see it, two assholes" he mumbled once more.

"Point taken fancy hat, what's the occasion?" You abruptly stopped, crossing your arms at him. You two lashed out in a series of quick paced replies.

"I bought a new bottle"

"of course you did"

"It's the good stuff"

"I don't drink"

"Come on, surely you can hold in three sips"

"no way, fancy hat"

"what a weak bloodline you have"

"your bloodline can speak of its height"

Critical Hit!

Chuuya's eyes widened in half-shocked half-insulted way, he growled a random cursive word, and it only made your victorious grin all the more wider.

It was fun to mess with the gentleman, Chuuya was very xpressive, hence, fun to tease.

He may have a chaotic ability, but you know well that his heart is one of a gentleman and that's how Dazai pretty much makes a living out of this guy.

"You know that flower pot you like so much?" He mumbled, his eyes showed little new found mischief, whatever it was, you didn't like it.

"My chamomile pot, don't you dare touch it" You raised a suspicious eyebrow, this is one of your most treasured trinkets, and him spewing about it already started to get you a little warry.

"I'll create an upside down gravitational field" he said, it was his turn to grin victoriously.

He tampered with what you love most, a chamomile pot.

Its a senestive topic because you held this pot so dear, and if it's gravity became inverted, safe to say that it'll dry out and die with no water to the roots.

"You wouldn't dare!" You stomped a foot, clearly agitated, glaring at him you said, "Playing dirty Nakahara? That's not like you. I bet Dazai told you about this nifty trick, and he's probably laughing his ass off somewhere else right now"

A few onlookers stole a glance at the scene, immediately disappearing to their work without lingering for too long.

"you're right, but all be damned, so are you coming or not?" The red head turned his gaze away as he spoke of the invitation.

"Fine, bastard" you lightly punched his shoulder out of habit, immediately groaning once you realised its your right hand.

Chuuya didnt pity you for it, in fact, he was probably happy that you accidentally hurt yourself in some way. Soon after, you both started walking to your destination, an all too well familiar room.

Chuuya closed the door behind you, ahead was a room, also called safe haven 333. No superiors or grownups allowed, Dazai technically counts as a 'superior' but, he passed the vibe check.

It was a nice secluded room with a view over Yokohama, comfortable with three chabinets a fridge for drinks, in the center is a round table with three leather arm chairs around it.

Chuuya stores some wine in his cabinet, you keep tea bags around, and Dazai. . . Well, he keeps a couple of books, which seems normal untill you realise the topics are: narcotics, suicide and lethal injections.

One time, Chuuya intentionally spilled a few drops on Dazai's book, it was laced with potassium, causing a small explosion. Till this day, you wonder if its a trap Dazai intentionally set, maybe he knew Chuuya's temperament towards him was one day going to get the better of his books as Chuuya sipped a glass.

Talk about Saftey Hazard.

Dazai was already seated, he acknowledged your arrival as you took your seat, while Chuuya walked to his cabinet.

"took you long enough" Dazai said, and you rolled your eyes through his comment, instead focusing on something else, his knuckles, they were blood red.

Someone got the fist treatment.

"Im guessing our little fun blackmail worked?" He perked an eyebrow and a knowing grin at Chuuya, who was holding a giant bottle laced in luxurious labels.

"Very. Humorous. Dazai" you gave away a small glare 'screw you' at his eternal smile from across the table, Meanwhile, Chuuya carefully settled three fine glasses.

His satisfaction immeasurable as he corked open the exquisite bottle, masterfully pouring two glasses full and around two sips worth in the third.

Everyone reached for their respective glass, after a quick visual study, you smelled the sweet liquid.

It wasn't favourable to you, nor was it enticing in the slightest to try. "Remind me again on how and why we three drink together?" You asked.

"This baby tastes better when it's fully honored like that, besides, drinking with the creepy woman or the boss aren't fun" Chuuya took a sip and let out an extremely satisfied puff of air, sinking into his leather arm chair.

His argument was valid, higher-ups aren't particularly 'fun' to be around with.

"I didn't pay a single penny! Truly blessed to be alive tonight" Dazai's voice rang with an eerie happiness.

"One glass is all you get, don't get your hopes into existence" Chuya refuted.

Dazai and Chuuya, always polar opposites, but with you around, it was a tri-polar opposite.

Dazai enjoyed his glass of wine in a calm yet chatoic manner as he carelessly got a few drops on his attire, his liquor tolerance is a pinnacle on its own. He practically drank this thing like it's a kids juice, that made Chuuya agitated the whole time. Eye-ing every precious drop wasted.

Speaking of Chuuya, he on the other hand, also enjoyed his glass, but in a more refined and fashioned way, you could tell that he savoured each sip, carefully giving his taste buds a run before sipping another. He knows a thing or two about wine for sure, a self-proclaimed conisseur.

Meanwhile, you just settled for a cup of tea, quietly blowing the steam off as you drank the hot chamomile mixture. Drinking alcohol wasn't your suit, it often made you nauseous because when combined with your memory troubles, It can seriously cause your entire well-being to become disoriented.

That's why Chuuya only gave you around two sips worth in a glass, you had to accept it, not to make Chuuya content, but to spare yourself from him boasting about how great it was since you didn't get to try.

You two could be in a mission together, and he'd suddenly talk about a bottle that 'he's so gonna buy' after all was set and done.

"now that's a big baddie" Chuuya held his glass elegantly as he commented on the wine, probably on his third glass now.

Dazai just twirled it around, as if toying with the mixture "I don't like it" he said, looking down as his drink, then, his lips quivered in a smile, "I prefer stronger drinks like vodka, it kills you faster"

Immediately and synchronically, you and Chuuya rolled your eyes. There goes tonights inevitable death joke.

"just keep drinking those chemicals like you always do, I'm sure it'll serve you right one day" Chuuya replied dryly, clenching his teeth, then he turned his focus on you, "what do ya think?" his voice was still annoyed, but he had a shred of hope that you'd have a more pleasing answer. . . Safe to say, you didn't give him that hope.

"it was. . . very fine. Nice after taste" you visibly cringed at your reply, earlier, you just downed those two sips in one go to be rid of it, there was no way you'd have a proper answer for this guy.

"you two are worst, never drinking with you again" Chuuya groaned as he face palmed, hiding his disappointed face behind his gloved hand, you and Dazai exchanged knowing glances, similar smirks, both of you already knew that you'd be back here again no matter what Chuuya actually says.

"Sorry, kill joy, we can instead talk about how your motorcycle exploded during the-"

"shut your mouth " Chuuya uttered and Dazai giggled.

"It exploded?" You perked up from your seat in a little act of shock, "but that one was your favourite Chuuya!" you dramatically coo-ed, placing both hands on your cheek.

"I told your asses before that they might look the same, but they're different. The one that exploded is clearly not my favourite" Chuuya was frustrated to even bother explaining the engineering diffrence behind the motocycles.

You added the salt, "same thing" and Dazai added more salt "yep, don't see the difference".

"Unbelievable" Chuuya's eyes were pracitically ceiling high at this point, while your smile and Dazai's could only get wider.

Moments passed by, both of them were beginning to bicker about what they had done during the operation. Chuuya didn't need to use corruption, that would have been an overkill, but they had some fruitful stories to share and many insults for each other to curse, you were entertained.

You noticed that at some parts of their retellings, your brain was empty, failing to retrieve that memory. You were used to this feeling, yet a shudder of dread still washes over your spine. It was like you never existed, it's like you're dead if you can't remember something clearly happened with you around.

You shrugged it off, like always. You joined them both instead, relaying your own interesting stories from the operation, and soon enough, the evening ends as midnight strikes, for Yokohama its bed time, for the Port Mafia, it's more work.

"well, I'm heading off. I've had enough of both of your antics for one night"

That was when Chuuya left, then door clicked shut, and then, nothing.

Nothing is still something. . .

In this moment of nothingness stretched a silence of thought, it was something.

That's your belief, contrary to the boy who sat infront of you.

Dazai is a nihilist . . .

everything and anything means nothing,

He's a full dimensional nihilist. He believes in nihilism in all its forms, especially existential nihilism, which argues that life has neither objective meaning nor profound purpose.

Your eyes once again flew back to his knuckles, they're red, swollen red. Either he punched a certain someone a hundred times, or a wall twenty times. The former more is more probable.

"Odasaku's busy tonight" Dazai spoke since the five minute silence, "Ango's overworked, and that leaves me in utter boredom" he dramatically raised a free hand signalling hopelessness in distress. His other hand carried his weight as he elbowed it on the arm of the chair.

You stared at him for a moment, before settling down your now empty cup of tea and standing up. He looked up at you, in a glance of curiosity, where are you heading? His eyes said.

"You said that I'm hard to track down, why don't you join me to solve the mystery?" You gestured your right hand infront of you in a welcoming matter, 'come with me'

He smiled.

Standing right away,

"Lead the way"

--- At Port

The refreshing salty breeze cooled your face as you stood facing the waters and the bright Yokohama, you're now in a large mafia territory, a territory of warehouses. Carrier ships rang their sirens in the distance signaling arrival and departure from the port city.

"So, this is where you disappear to? Not too bad"

"I read in a book that cool wind like this helps refresh memories, I often come here to just think"

He walked ahead to the edge of the concrete platform, and you followed behind. He then stared down, so you did as well, hoping to see what his eye saw.

"You know what they say about gazing into the abyss" you uttered, the water was deep, murky, anyone who looks down immediately becomes uncertain. Just a few feet away is the unknown.

"It also gazes unto you" he said in a half-whisper, clearly fascinated by the implication of this philisophy.

When the abyss gazes back, it tells us what we're made of, it tells us what we should not become.

"Come on" you placed your left hand on his shoulder, nudging him away "we don't want you to get an adrenaline rush, and before you know it you'll be jumping off"

"I can handle myself very well you know" he protested, you couldnt do anything as he forcefully sat down on the edge.

You sighed, his demeanor arrogant like a kid.

Here lies tonight, I suppose.

You sat down next to him, crossing your leg comfortably, while he dangled his feet off the edge.

Infront of the both of you was the city, stretching across the shore of Yokohama. Moments pass, all you could think of was how beautiful the view is. You thought that perhaps Dazai would feel the same, any human would shudder in awe every once in a while before the mirth of beauty.

Looking into his eyes, the nihilist was still staring at the waters. Eyes distant, nothing new to you, nothing new to him.

He was still as a statue, still focused on the waters, the waves as they ebbed and gently crashed into the wall, making a soothing sound, the wind animating the liveliness of a human being.

Dazai for the most part is unpredictable, but you know better. You know that regardless, humans can't help but make habits; this posture of his, this habit of staring aimlessly is when Dazai contemplates while wearing his nihilistic lenses.

"Look up Dazai, do you not find value in any of that?" you said, pointing your hand, moving it across the horizontal view.

"The world can be beautiful alright"

"Beauty Will Save the World"

The way you spoke seemed philosophical, but in true intent, the purpose behind your stayment was to throw Dazai some candy. He usually refutes optimistic views and hopeful signs. Surely, he was to speak of his own refutation any moment now.

You smiled sub-conciously the moment Dazai spoke, he took the bait by intricately giving away his nihilistic reproach for your statment, and upon noticing that you didn't show any audible reaction, not even a murmur of any sorts, because you'd usually scold his nihilism, Dazai turned his focus from the 'view' to you.

The first thing he saw were both of your hands raised, acting out a mouth like gesture. The second, were your lips unaudibly mouthing the word 'blah blah blah blah' continuously. You are clearly mocking his view, and that smirk of yours gave him a chuckle. He fell for it.

His chest shrinked as he laughed, Dazai does have a thing for when people mock him or contradict him in any 'fascinating' means. He welcomes it from the light side of his heart.

"you little devil!" He pouted sarcastically "not letting me express my extreme complaints and misery towards the dullness of life!" Lightly, he pushed you away with one hand to dispose childlike 'embarssement'.

You chuckled, your tenacity keeping you in place "Oh my bad! Just go ahead with citing the 78th reason of why life sucks and we all should die!"

Dazai met Odasaku three years ago, on the first week, Dazai attempted to murder him. You were confused as to why Oda would help a human who has clearly reached the point of no return in their lack of morality, but suddenly, time passed, things happened and they're both friends.

You weren't forced to befriend Dazai for the mere reason of being Odasaku's friend, the truth is, you saw through Odasaku's lenses and understood. Dazai is just a normal human like any other, and what Odasaku saw in him three years ago was a kid, a Fool, the word Odasaku called him when they first met, a kid, because Osasaku was ashamed when he first smoked infront of Dazai.

Even after masterminding this victory for the mafia, it's as if Dazai couldn't care less, its because. . .

He was yet to find his own victory

the victory he seeks, if he cannot find it in the harshest environments like the mafia, then really, what hope is left?

Being friends with this boy means riding his carrousel of nihilism, you weren't new to the ride, Odasaku wasn't either, in fact, Oda once told you, in his mature state of mind, a piece of advice, a rule to this carrousel.

'Step into his loneliness impolitely'

Any shred of hope that was to be thrown at Dazai will be immediately refuted by his scripted answers of why life was meaningless and death is favourable. Therefore, it is wisest to intrude into his dull chain by force to try and knock him off his feet, it's crucial to hurt his ego.

Luck was on your side when you were able to remember what you brought, your good hand dug into your coat, holding out two boxes. The sound of cloth made his eyes land on your action, you placed one box in his hand.

He tilted the box to read its label, "Apple Juice?" He read out loud and you answered "I owed you a drink, remember?" As long the term drink was vague, you were willing to play around. Besides, you don't consume alcohol anyway, so you bought two apple juice straw boxes from a convenience store beforehand, the juice had animal shapes on them which you thought were cute.

Dazai was familiar with how you treated life so lightly, contrary to his heavy self and timing, nothing bothered you much, and he smiled for that "I'll accept it" he said, piercing the straw in his box.

You did the same, your right hand is now marginally better, atleast holding the juice was possible if it were a delicate action.

The sweet apple juice sent a wave of energy in your body, it was a refresher to have something sweet. Biting the straw, you savoured the drink a little longer.

You couldnt help but stare at him with your peripheral vision, taking friendly notes to his actions, and inevitably your eyes landed on his bruised knuckles once more, curiosity leading you to vocally state "Akutagawa's got the tough kick, huh?"

What you really wanted to say was: When will you ever change your means of teaching?

Odasaku was your mentor, his teachings is all about valuable life lessons. Dazai on the other hands, completely breaks someone and shapes them as he wishes.

"Would you believe me if I said I instead punched a wall twenty times?" He said, without eye contact.

"Not really"

"What if I was training?"

"You don't even think about your physique that much"

"Then, I got my fingers through intentional blunt trauma to induce the pain of a bruised knuckle"

"That's a refreshing way to feel pain, but you don't injure your hands as much as your arms. It becomes inconvenient, you don't wanna be like me" you instinctively tightened your grasp on the box, but it was weak, your hand is still numb.

"The pure disadvantage of having someone that knows you is truly disheartening" he said in a dramatic tone, obviously as a flare to direct the conversation elsewhere.

It simply sucks to be Dazai's apprentice.

Sometimes you forget that within him lies a horrifying nature, and it made you reminisce about the day you became 'friends'. How are you alive truly? You'd have to ask Odasaku later, perhaps he's made the new ground breaking discovery of Dazai's humanity.

Time passes, and a conversation begins:

"Could you tell me about your flower pot?"

"My chamomile pot? Sure, but don't give Chuuya anymore nasty ideas"

"Don't worry, what's the story behind it?"

"it was Oda's suggestion to buy a flower pot in the first place and take care of it, I only figured that chamomile makes great tea, so I started to dry them into my own tea bags"

"And why would Odasaku of all things would tell you to buy a flower pot?"

"He said that making habits will be hard to forget, because it becomes all the more about instinct and muscle memory rather than memory itself. The mentioned habit is obviously taking care of the plant"

There was a lot of time to spare tonight, plenty of it, so much that ten more conversations could be started.

When you offered to summarise a book for him, Divine Commedy, to ignite his interest, his eyes observed you in a specific way, it was an invitation of sorts.

Dazai wanted you to tell the story

and, You didn't hesitate in fueling his undivided attention, as you began to thoroughly explain who the main character Dante is and the grand adventure that he was about to undertake, an adventure through the three kingdoms of the after life. Hell, Purgatory and Heaven, respectively.

"In Heaven, his past lover Beatrice awaits for his arrival whom Dante has been in love with, but couldn't proceed with marriage due to complications. Beatrice died at 25. It's called Divine Commedy because it starts out in the terrible depths of hell and ends in the merry of a love story in heaven"

"To reach heaven, Dante first had to willingly decent to hell and its nine circles, for this journey, he had a companion and guide, Virgil, a roman poet and an idol for Dante whom was a spirit in this story, not human"

"Abandon all hope, ye who enter here" Dazai said, with a dramatic holier-than-thou kind of tone. It seems that he knows part of this story, because these were the words inscribed on the gates of hell. It was apparent that he was bemused by your retelling of the story, especially hell's arc.

"Virgil guided Dante through the nine circles of hell, each circle had some sort of punishment that was meticulously designed for the crimes of each sin. Most philosophers, including Virgil, were in the first circle Limbo. Having not committed sin, they still reside in hell for ignorance, they were only forbidden to see God"

You began to lightly explain the punishment for each sin in each circle, and the historical figures that resided there, then, the arcs of the mountain of purgatory and heaven passed smoothly. When Dante finally reached Heaven, he had the immeasurable opportunity to seek an audience with God, when God asked of Dante's descriptions and own depiction of hell,

"Dante cried out that language alone is uncappable of describing the horrors that traipse in hell, for everything that he's seen shook his will and left gruesome thoughts"

Even for the non-believers, Divine Commedy is a story that could be thought of as an examination of conscience. It's a love story, but it's also about creativity, hate, monstrosity, politics and human sin. Its about a man's self journey, that's why Dazai liked it or so you thought, because if the story was a bad apple, Dazai would have already pointed out the blunt truth, he wouldn't have taken a bite.

After this story, moments followed, some were consumed by silence, others by lively chatter of the ten more conversations.

The Dazai you knew often spoke in pithy, and rarely in sincerity. His actions had the same agenda, heartfelt actions are rare. For Dazai, it doesn't matter, actions don't speak louder than voices. They're both equally null.

Yet, what he did next was sincere, what he said after was his true-self. The side capable of showing 'goodness'.

You felt his touch, his hand above your good hand, the different texture of it being half skin and half bandaged, it was surprisingly warm but not soft to touch. So, you looked at him, but he wasn't there to look back at you.

It didn't last long, only three seconds for him to let go and three more for you to realise his intent. You felt it first in your blood. . .

Something was missing.

"No more using that for the rest of the night"

Dazai has nullified your ability

"Kōyō won't certainly like this" you sighed, a little smile finding it's way on your face. It is what it is for tonight.

"Kōyō is such an annoying woman, I don't like her old fashioned poise" he ranted, then his voice calmed "I'm worried"

"You're what now?" Your heart probably skipped a few beats here, Dazai just expressed worry, and it baffled you.

"At this rate, you're going to forget everything y/n" he smiled unironically, it wasn't a genuine smile. "What's to say you won't forget the basic functions that make your humanity?"

"This gift let's you manipulate others, but it also manipulates you. It makes you ignorant"

"That's how it works. I think it's a fair trade, considering that some of my interrogations resulted in mental disorders to the interrogated- " you said, but he completely disregarded your statmenent, instead going off with his own reasoning and thoughts.

"Odasaku noticed the increasing gaps in your memory, it's not a temporary state of amnesia, once it's gone, it's gone"

"I think I would cry if I forgot that I was searching for meaning, Attempts bound to be futile, an endless paradox of foreseen misery"

"Are you done?" you weren't arrogant when you said that, you know full well the implications of your ability, but having anyone bothered about it is the last thing you wanted.

"Can't believe I actually have someone that 'worries' about me, let alone it's you. We might as well jump from here" you leaned over the edge, dangerously peering down. "Doesn't look to shabby to me"

"You're finally speaking wonderful ideas, tonight doesn't sound bad, although I was planning to drink with Odasaku"

"I was joking executive" you mocked, leaning back, "That was an earful, but I get it, Odasaku was probably the one who motivated you to say this"

"That's not true" he sighed, fixing his eyes at you in a semi-tired look. "I noticed that while we're talking, that you completely forgot that we visited Ango two nights ago" he continued,

"I was surprised that you remembered the IOU's and the drink, maybe I'll always keep you in debt to me somehow since you can't forget favours"

"Changed my mind! I'm jumping"

"Woah not yet! What about the IOU's from two nights ago at Ango's office? Not my fault you forgot about it!"

"You're lying! I would never place myself in debt for you even if I forgot what I did!"

"Alright, you got me" He smiled, "we only discussed the death toll that night"

"I'll keep your consideration in mind Dazai, but, your nullification doesn't last long anyway"

"You're right, the time interval between each nullification is random, but it can be up to an hour in some cases"

"Well then" you held your weight, standing up, "I'll be heading now, you're drinking with Odasaku right? Have fun for me" hands in your pocket, you were prepared for the long walk back. By the time you'd each HQ, the nullification would most likely have worn off.

Dazai didn't reply, but he turned to look at you from his seat and that was the last thing you saw.

No longer than five minutes into the walk between the suburbs, you felt that someone was following you, lurking in the shadows. You didn't bother looking around, because it was painfully obvious who it is. So, you just kept walking. . .

They're still following you

He's still following you

What could he possibly want from you? He's not giving up

"I take it you changed plans with Odasaku?"

You asked, whilist walking, a voice answered right away "Yeah, he's going to spend the night with those Orphans again, by the way, I was sure I tried a different walking pattern"

You laugher echoed in the dark street, "so be it your pacing speed, light or heavy footing, It doesn't matter, I'd stop trying if I were you" you took a stop bellow a street lamp, looking around left and right, in all possible ominous looking zones to determine his whereabouts.

"You never seem to forget how to counter me" He appeared from the cloak of night, walking under the light of the street lamp.

"I remember your footsteps by heart, and unlike mind, the heart never forgets" you gave a wink, and it made him visibly cringe, slumping his shoulder in cowerness "One day, your optimism will be the leading cause of my death"

You both shared a moment of bemusement, untill you asked the question "what brings you here, stalker?"

Dazai enjoyed the insult, approaching you slowly in an ominous, anticipatory manner. You stood still to entertain him, and once he got close. .

"Tag!"

He pinched a lose strand of your hair lightly with a wide smirk on his face, sneakily nullifying you once more in a simple tag game.

"Why you!" You giggled as you 'attempted' to tag him back, but without a right hand in the cause, it was a little more difficult. Dodging you was a no-brainer from Dazai, his swift calculated steps successfully evaded him from your touch.

In your attempt, he managed to touch you, skin to skin once more by your left hand.

"I win again~"

You gave up, delivering to him this mini-victory to claim. "Alright fine, you win"

"One to Zero, onto the next round, in abooout- twenty minutes"

You punched him pathetically with your right hand, for accuracy and in order to actually land the hit, in his shoulder, it sent a small wave of pain in your injury which you completely disregarded.

"That was uncalled for!" He pouted, rubbing his shoulder dramatically, in an act of pain.

"What do you mean more games?!"

"My nullification only lasts less than an hour, remember? I think we need around thirty games of tag for tonight"

It was at that moment you realised, the executive isn't going to let you go off the hook, Oh boy, it's going to be a looong night of tag games, might as well give in and Kōyō be damned. Maybe tonight was a good night to rest, just like how Odasaku is going to spend his time with the Orphans.

That thought, sincerely, make you smile.

"Tag"

you booped his nose with one of your fingers, and he let you.

"You're it"

-end

That night, Dazai basically annoyed the living hell out of Kōyō by intentionally nullifying you untill sunrise.

I like to imagine that a couple of days later, Dazai gives you a leather notebook to keep in your cabinet. He encouraged you to write your memories down, for Odasaku's sake.

_________________________________________

A/N: Thank you for reading! Bellow are parts of the fanfic that can be traced to actual philisophy! Read at your own interest~

Philosophy Citations:-

"Beauty Will Save the world"

• The Philisophy of Fyodor Dostoevsky even after facing plenty of short-comings in life, and writing literary masterpieces that cover the warnings of nihilism, his own miserable life experiences and humanity's dark nature. (and many more. . .) Yet, Fyodor had a hopeful vision, the beacon of beauty in humanity's darkest hours.

"Battle not with monsters, lest ye become a monster, and if you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.”

• a quote from Friedrich Nietzsche, a German philisopher, during his time he thought a lot about the concept of 'Übermensch' or Super Man, it was his philisophy that a man should completely affirm to life to become someone who has the ability to determine their circumstances, their values, their beautiful strides and ultimately fulfill their potential to become who they truly are.

"Divine Commedy"

• a literary work by Dante Alighieri, an intalian/roman philisoper, he despised many political figures including popes and traitors for their corruption, he got exiled from his home town Florence for charges of 'corruption', leading to the writing of this book. It includes his view of who resides in hell, past historical figures and corruption makers of his life time, as well as those who reside in heaven, all in the context of a man's journey in discovering himself through the three kingdoms of the afterlife.

"Abandon all hope, ye who enter here!"

#bungou stray dogs dazai #bungou stray dogs #dazai x y/n #dazai headcanons #bsd dazai #dazai x reader #dazai osamu #bsd fanfic #dazai fluff #this took way too long

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kruggers-mani · 2 years ago

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COD König x fem!reader

König has decided to act on his little crush he has been stalking for some time, unfortunately he goes a little too far.

Content: Possessive könig, staking,

Part 1

(You are a female, 21, high-ranking military personnel, 6 ft tall and extremely muscular, and you are a very structured person who follows routines to a T and has helped you a lot in the military; this is all just for a little bit of context)

You wake up at 0500 even though you haven't been required to since basics, but it just felt too natural to work out while it was still dark. I made you feel powerful to be ready before the sun was. You roll over to snooze your alarm that is blasting whatever Metallica song that is on rotation that day. Sitting up you rub your eyes with one hand as you stretch your other arm at the same time. It's been part of your morning routine practically. Getting up and slipping on baggy sweats because just a shorts and sports bra is not how you roll, your insecurity would never let you no matter how chiseled your six-pack may be.

The sweat dripping off your face and onto the weight room floor brings a smirk to your lips. It's like seeing a beautiful field of roses to you, the idea of your performance getting better keeps you coming back every morning. You reach over to turn your speaker off when you see a flash of light and then a shadow disappear from behind the squat rack, the lighting isn't the greatest, and lights flickering isn't out of the ordinary so you shrug it off as such. You pack your things and begin to walk out of the room when you see the door is now cracked open and currently swaying as if it was just being closed with not enough force to fully close it.

You always shut the door behind you.

It is now 0700 and all the other soldiers are beginning to get up and either get breakfast or get set up in their offices. You always pass by the kiss-ass recruits trying to grab their officers coffee or something from the chow hall to "get on their good side" as if they have one. But something was out of your routine, the tall masked soldier didn't walk past you right before you got to your door. He always nods at you 5 paces from your door as he walks to what you can assume is his office since he is fully dressed and ready. "Is he sick, or maybe he got hurt on the field? I did hear a couple of higher-up groups got sent out to deal with a royal fuck up made by the recruits." You reach your hand out to open your door as you pull your keys out of your backpack to unlock it, no need. Your door is fully closed, but it is not locked.

You always lock your door behind you.

These two events are too suspicious, so you don't even turn the doorknob to not startle who might be hiding inside. You call Price to bring some men and check your room. When he gets there you explain what happened in the gym while the other two soldiers enter your room and are about to search for an imposter but are immediately stopped by a scene painted on your wall. "Umm Lieutenant L/N, you might wanna we this" You make a confused look at Price as you turn around to enter the room, your face falls and your hands cover your mouth in awe and disgust. "You are mine, mouse" is written on the wall and big letters with black paint. Price curses under his breath as he looks at you for confirmation that this is real. He tells you to wait here while he goes and calls someone to report a possible intruder on base, commanding the other two soldiers to wait outside the door and guard. You walk around the room to make sure nothing else is touched and see your closet is open with something new hanging up, it is A dark Emerald green color, and hard to make out what it is from where you're standing. You walk closer and pull the hanger off the rack to be amazed at the very sexy lingerie in your hands right now. It looks tailored to your body which is impossible because no one has seen your body since your last relationship over 3 years ago in high school. A piece of paper falls from the hanger, you pick it up to read "I want you to wear this tonight for your birthday. Even if I can't see you I will find pleasure in thinking of you in it. Left some vodka on your desk for your first shot, happy 21st birthday mouse." Sure as shit you look over at your desk and see the big ass bottle of vodka and two small shot glasses. One full and the other empty, "Did he take a shot before he left?" You say your thoughts out loud as Price walks back in and sees what you're talking about. "Send it in for fingerprint and DNA testing, I highly doubt we have an intruder so it has to be another soldier. I'm gonna go shower in the community showers so I'm not alone." If anyone else commanded Price around they would be dead, but there is an amount of respect for you after you saved his life once and his ass a couple of times after bad missions.

You get undressed and right before shutting your locker, you get a text. Price: "Both tests were negative, but there is cleaning residue on the glass suggesting he did at one point but knew better before leaving. I'm going to be sending a soldier to watch your room 24/7 until further notice, I'm sorry but I'm not taking any chances you're the best we got." You sigh before replying to acknowledge you read his message. You slam your locker shut in frustration and walk to the showers. The other girls either cower in your presence or give looks of disgust as you walk past them. You try to put on a brave face but this is the first time anyone has seen you naked in a long time, and for a good reason. Yes, you not only get made fun of for being too manly with your height and lean body, but you have a condition that makes it impossible for your scars to heal properly so they stay visible for years longer than normal before fading. And being a boxer in high school has left you with your fair share of battle scars before ever seeing a battlefield. You could very easily be mistaken for a test or torture subject with the huge and small scars basically painting your muscles, you used to hate it but now you think it makes you look badass. You reach the showers and it is packed, there is a line to wait for an open shower head. Everyone else is gossiping and giggling with each other while you look over their heads and wait patiently for your turn. After about 15 minutes you finally get to the front of the line and start walking to the open shower head. You look around and the girls are either talking or minding their business and washing themselves, but you feel a very strong pair of eyes on you to the point you look around in a panic to see where this feeling is coming from but to no avail, there is no one looking at you and you just look paranoid looking around frantically. With the feeling still there you try your best to ignore it and begin to wash the sweat from your morning workout off. You sigh to yourself before sticking your head under the water "Why is this happening to me, of all people why do they choose me?"

#cod x reader #cod mw2 #konig x reader #smut #part 1 #stalking fantasy #military #female #soldier #captain price #ghost #task force 141

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random-vore-blog · 1 year ago

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Can you do a reader x Rengoku? I’m feeling a bit down and Rengoku is my favorite character, I love your stories! (You can do sfw and safe Vore ^^)

Of course! Can't let people be sad! I hope you don't mind if I used the Swap Au for this.

Sometimes... it was best to leave things in the past. Or to move on from them. That... wasn't the case for Y/n, a demon around 5'1 ft. The past few days were... not so great. Especially if they were one of the weaker demons many slayers had mistaken for a rogue demon.

In reality, they were anything but a rogue demon. Actually, they were a kind demon. Something Ubuyashiki was not expecting. Instead of eating human flesh, they ate plants mostly venomous/ poisonous to humans and demons.

They tensed up as they felt the presence of Uppermoon 4: Rengoku Kyojuro. He was responsible for the burns on their skin from when they were a human. They remembered it... they remembered him by just his aura alone. The flames that burnt their face... their house...

" Lowermoon 5. What a surprise."

His voice was loud in their ear, causing them to shiver, turning around to face the higher ranked demon standing centimeters away from them. He was tall. Very tall. And the unnatural heat radiating from him was making them feel dizzy.

A panic attack.

" So- sorry! Got to go!"

They quickly whispered and ran, not just for their safety but to also not pass out in front of a demon higher ranked than them. It would make them look weak and pathetic, unfit to be Lowermoon 5...

They tripped, breathing heavily as tears began to form in their eyes, vision blurred and body shaking. Their skin tingled, body numb and not numb at the same time, breathing uneven and almost impossible to do.

" I- why? Why now?"

They choked on their own saliva, the feeling of passing out growing until the collapsed on the ground. They wheezed, chest burning, their eyes growing heavier by each second as it began to get harder to breath...

" Y/n?"

That voice...

" Tch. Weak, but set your heart ablaze. And you might make it."

Why was it muffled? Why was their the outline of someone approaching them? Why was everything going black?

" You have potential. I love it. It makes me proud to do this only for you."

And then, everything just went black.

-x-

The sky was beautiful, and he hummed softly. The marks on his face glowing, third eye closed and maroon horns present on his forehead. He looked down at his stomach, a slight bulge from the small Lowermoon 5 he had eaten, but not like what others might think.

" This feels good like always."

He spoke, a small and soft smile on his face which was rare. He sighed, wishing that Y/n would at least try to understand his reasons. He never meant to hurt them... never meant to burn down their house... never meant to turn them into a demon...

" Why won't you let me try to help you? To try and eat your worries?"

He rubbed his middle, temperature rising just for the emotionally weak Lowermoon 5... the one he had eaten multiple times without them knowing...

It was an instinct he couldn't control.

" Just rest... I'll take care of you like always..."

If only they knew that he was their partner... the one they were supposed to marry...

I hope you liked it. Sorry for the long wait! I was busy with IRL stuff and had to go somewhere.

#rengoku kyojuro #safe vore #soft vore #demon slayer #demon slayer vore #swap kny au #demon rengoku

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ailtrahq · 2 years ago

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XRP (XRP) price is down today, mirroring declines witnessed elsewhere in the cryptocurrency market.On Oct. 10, XRP's price dropped nearly 1.5% to $0.50, bringing its week-to-date returns to -4.5%. The token's selloff in the week mirrored bearish sentiments across the top-ranking crypto assets, with Bitcoin (BTC) and Ether (ETH) down 1.8% and 3.5%.XRP/USD vs. BTC/USD and ETH/USD daily price performance chart. Source: TradingViewLet's take a close look at the catalysts moving XRP's price lower today.XRP drops amid Israel-Palestine conflictCrypto traders have ditched most top cryptocurrencies in the face of an escalating Israel-Palestine conflict. XRP is no different.For instance, the crypto market's total capitalization has dropped by over $32 billion since Hamas attacked Israel over the weekend. On the other hand, demand for traditional safe havens like the U.S. Treasuries and gold has jumped. Crypto market vs. US 10-year Treasury and gold daily performance chart. Source: TradingViewCryptocurrencies' immediate reaction to geopolitical conflicts have been mostly negative in the past. For instance, the crypto market's valuation dropped over 11% when the Russia- Ukraine conflict broke out Feb. 24, 2022. The market pared most of these losses shortly after. Big XRP inflows to crypto exchangesXRP's decline this week further coincides with massive token transfers over the weekend and at the week's beginning.On Oct. 9, an address associated with Ripple moved 60 million XRP worth about $30 million to an unknown wallet, data resource Whale Alert updated. Another wallet transferred over $15 million to the Bitstamp crypto exchange. 30,300,000 #XRP (15,214,882 USD) transferred from unknown wallet to #Bitstamphttps://t.co/TgqGDcIt2y— Whale Alert (@whale_alert) October 9, 2023 XRP technical analysis hints at 50% crash in 2023From a technical perspective, XRP's recent price action has painted what appears to be a Bump-and-Run-Reversal (BARR) pattern.BARR forms when excessive speculation drives an asset's price higher speedily, eventually leading to a “bull trap" situation. The pattern is confirmed after the price breaks below its lead-in trendline, falling by as much as its maximum height, as illustrated below.XRP/USD three-day price chart ft. BARR pattern setup. Source: TradingViewThus, the bearish target for XRP price in this scenario is a 50% drop to $0.25 over the next few months. Conversely, the downside outlook may become invalid if XRP price reclaims the lead-in-trendline and its 50-3D (the red wave) and 200-3D (the blue wave) exponential moving averages (EMAs) as support. XRP/USD three-day price chart. Source: TradingViewThis bullish case would put XRP's price next upside target at its 0.236 Fib line near $0.69, up around 40% from current price levels. This article does not contain investment advice or recommendations. Every investment and trading move involves risk, and readers should conduct their own research when making a decision.

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pillow-anime-talk · 3 years ago

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his hands.

request: hiii, 1st things first: i love your blog and your writings and i’m currently binging them hahaha. could you write something smutty (hc or scenario; whatever you think fits better) for kakashi or kankuro. can it be a nsfw friends to lovers? like- the reader doesn’t mean to turn them on but they do multiple times and they just snap? (and maybe, you don’t have to but he notices how obsessed the reader is with their hands?) i hope this is not confusing because i don’t even know how to articulate myself. please ignore this if it made you uncomfortable. thank you so much, i hope you’re doing well and take care of yourself :)

# tags: headcanon; friends to lovers / fwb to lovers; romance; smut; jounin!reader; nsfw

warnings: mention of sex and sexual activities, slow sex, fingering, hands kink, a bit of hair pulling

includes: gender neutral reader ft. kakashi hatake {naruto}

author’s note: my, my. kakashi...

↘ You and Kakashi have known each other for many, many years. You have also been working together for many years in higher rank missions, and you often go out for food or walks together when time and place allow it. You are known in the village and beyond as the Two Dragons of Fire and Water. You also compete often, but nevertheless complement each other well, as friends and... definitely someone else.

↘ You have always felt a strange attraction towards a man. You’ve never denied to yourself that he’s handsome, intelligent, funny, and just plain good in his heart. When you needed advice, he always gave it to you. When you needed help, Kakashi would appear next to you within moments. When you were sick, fair-haired always brought you hot ramen soup with your favorite toppings and medicine. And when you felt sad he would always send you letters or jump in through your window asking why you look so strange.

↘ You really, really liked each other, as evidenced by your eternal concentration while talking together and not taking your eyes off each other. Just like now.

↘ You spent time in your apartment that day. After a long mission that lasted three days, you were finally able to rest. So you offered dinner and some wine; Kakashi really liked your simple snacks, and you took pleasure in receiving compliments and valuable comments from him.

↘ You talked a lot that night and dreamed about the future. You talked about your students, plans, families, and you cried a lot about the past. The wine was sweet, yet very strong.

↘ You don’t even remember when the first clothes fell from your body, and the couch became not only a place to eat cold dishes, but also a place for your heavy and hot kisses. Kakashi was definitely a good kisser, and his lips, always hidden behind the material, were extremely soft, sweet and downright pleasant. Especially when his kisses changed their place. Suddenly his lips began to form tender peck against your collarbones, neck and chest.

↘ “You always wear clothes that have strange effects on me. You shouldn’t be doing this.” He said honestly, slowly taking your kimono off you. His cold hands touched your warm body, making you sigh. You always reacted positively to everything about his fingers; after all, they were so slim and neat despite years of work or hard training... You were delighted with them.

↘ You closed your eyes when Kakashi gently placed your body on the sofa and then squeezed one of your thighs with his hands. Then his right hand moved lower and you bit your lip.

↘ As befits a Konoha’s most talented ninja, his fingers and pace were perfect, calm, confident. With blissful peace you gave yourself fully to your lover, and he only watched your facial expressions with a slight smile.

↘ “We’re doing it again, you know?” At one point the man said, and you just opened one of your eyelids, nodding your head slightly in confirmation of his words. “Maybe we’ll just start dating like a normal couple?”

↘ “If that’s what you want... It’ll be fun and interesting.” You smirked slightly, and the blonde one immediately bent over your face, giving you a gentle, sweet kiss right on your lips. Then his hands moved away from your wet spot and he took his own manhood in one hand. He entered you without much trouble, while grasping your hips tightly with his fingers. You groaned again.

↘ Kakashi’s fingers touched your face, your neck, your both arms. He gently caressed your sensitive areas, and you responded by pulling his hair or leaving visible marks on his back. Sex was lovable, long and incredibly tender. Definitely different from all the previous ones; more intimate.

↘ Your eyes met every few short moments and your breaths merged into one. You tasted wine, you smelled sweat, you felt just good.

↘ It was the first time you felt so close to each other. It was magical and intriguing.

#— 🍓#naruto shippuuden #naruto shippuuden headcanons #naruto shippuuden x reader #naruto #naruto headcanons #naruto x reader #naruto x you #naruto x y/n #kakashi hatake #kakashi hatake headcanons #kakashi hatake headcanon #kakashi hatake x reader #kakashi hatake x you #kakashi hatake x y/n

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sleeping-on-cracking-ice · 4 years ago

Note

IDK if your taking requests 🥺👉👈 But if it's open... Could you maybe write an imagine with chishiya, where Niragi trys to get under his skin by making chishiya's s/o uncomfortable 😱

Cruel Entertainment | Shuntaro Chishiya (ft. Suguru Niragi)

{AIB Masterlist}

Summary: Niragi scares you and Chishiya gets defensive

Warnings(s): murder, blood, threatening, swearing, Niragi being a murderous bastard (as usual)

Word Count: 1.8k

*reader is gender-neutral

(A/N): this went down a more different plot than this, but this scenario is a element of it

“Look I don’t mean to complain, but this seems really unnecessary,”

All eyes in the meeting room turned to your figure sitting on the edge of the table. The silence that followed your statement felt personal, making you frown slightly at the annoyed faces that the militants seemed to hold.

Aguni had suggested the executives and the militants comes together for a meeting in order to discuss moving some militants up further on the number tags.

“How is this unnecessary Y/N?” Aguni spoke up, leaning forward on the table and resting his arms. His dead eyes met yours down the other head of the table, making you grow slightly nervous at the number of eyes that were on you.

Before you spoke up, your eyes flickered towards that of Chishiya’s, your boyfriend. When he caught your glance, he lifted a subtle hand to his throat and gave a gesture to tell you to be quiet.

Ever since Hatter had died and Aguni had taken over, your right to speak your mind had been diminishing, but you weren’t going to give it up as easy as the others seemed to have.

You gulped before turning back to Aguni, deciding to ignore Chishiya’s advice. If no one else had the tits to say something, then you would.

“Why are you moving your militants to a higher ranking? Everything was going fine until you came into power,” you started, keeping a stoic expression on that heavily contradicted your inner emotions.

Aguni raised an eyebrow and looked towards the right side of the table, where his second in command Niragi sat. The imperious man smirked at cocked an eyebrow at your words, making you feel uneasy.

“Is that so?” Aguni spoke in a creepily deep tone and leant back from the table, resting in his chair.

You nodded, keeping eye contact. “Don’t listen to me or whatever Aguni, but we don’t exactly know what will happen when we collect all the cards. I know you’d hate to admit it, but I think moving the numbers for your murderous ‘besties’ so they can escape the Borderlands quicker isn’t your intention here.”

You swore you were suffocating on the air in the room. You could smell the tension between your words and the rest of the executives. It was making Chishiya’s leg shake underneath the table and his eyes roll into the back of his head at your naiveness.

Furthermore, without your knowledge, to Niragi, your forehead seemed like a perfect target at that moment.

“Y-you know, Y/N has a point,” a young girl voiced up, making all eyes shift off of you for a quick moment. She sat a few seats down, holding her head slightly low and speaking in a quiet voice. “Perhaps we should vote on things rather than just immediately putting them in place though. If we do that, The Beach would be more democratic.”

You silently thanked her in your head and turned back to Aguni, but his stoic expression didn’t seem to change.

“Alright,” he said casually as he stood up. Looking over the table and the people at it, all silent, he spoke up. “Anyone that agrees with Y/N, raise your hand high.”

You glanced around the table with a slightly desperate look in your eye, hoping at least someone put their hand up. After a few tense seconds, the young girl who spoke put her hand up, followed by a middle-aged man sitting to the right of you and a few others.

You looked at Chishiya, not knowing what to do. He had himself tucked further in his white hoodie, hair hiding his eyes and trying to look as invisible as possible. He gave you a warning stare, shaking his head ‘no’ towards you.

You frowned, confused that he wasn’t contributing. Usually, he wouldn’t hesitate to stir some drama up between the executives and the militants, so it was out of character for him.

Furthermore, the lack of agreements from other executives like Ann and Mira was throwing you off. Knowing their good nature, they wouldn’t allow everything that Hatter had built to suddenly fall to murderous men. They kept their heads low, just like Chishiya, playing with their hands and trying to be as uninvolved as possible.

And soon enough, you realised why.

“Fine,” Aguni said, eyeing the four people that put their hand up in favour of you. You didn’t know too many of them personally, as they hadn’t been at The Beach for long. They were either high ranking players or random contributors to the executives.

“Niragi?” Aguni said, nodding towards the tall male.

Niragi hummed in acknowledgment and stood up quickly, not wasting a second before aiming his rifle towards the young girl and firing.

The blast of blood that fell onto your face made you freeze, realising what you had done.

“WAIT!” you screamed, standing from your seat and screaming towards Niragi. But your cry did nothing as he turned towards the man next to you and fired once again.

You ducked in fear that he was aiming at you, falling to the floor. The sound of bullet meeting bone filled your ear, and you glanced to the side to see the limp body of the man, eyes wide and hole in his bloodied forehead.

The rest of the people that voted in your favour had either dropped their head to the table in defeat or had done the same as you and fallen to the ground to hide behind the table, but Niragi stopped firing once he was sure the man was dead.

You stood from the ground and sat back down in your chair, eyes wide and breathing heavy. You could feel your heartbeat in your head, and your hands shook violently. You attempted to hide it by lacing your fingers together and squeezing, placing them on the table.

You didn’t dare look towards Aguni but glanced towards Chishiya towards the other end. He held wide eyes and shaking hands, staring at you and putting his index finger to his lips in a gesture to make you stay quiet. You nodded lightly.

Niragi let out a loud laugh and stepped out from around his chair, making his way towards you down the end of the table. You didn’t dare move.

“See what happens when you speak your mind!” he exclaimed, coming up behind you and placing a harsh hand on your shoulder. You jumped at the sudden impact and your eyebrows furrowed in annoyance.

Not being impressed by your lack of reaction, Niragi gripped your hair and pulled your head back so you made eye contact with him. He leant forward over you, looking you dead in the eyes as you yelped from his harsh hold on you.

“Maybe, you should learn to shut the fuck up for once kitten,” he growled into your face, making you cringe from his hot breath on your skin. “That mouth of yours could get you in a lot of trouble.”

Chishiya shook in his seat, hand gripping the end of the table harshly at the sight of his S/O getting tormented. A million thoughts were racing through his mind, trying to think of something that he could do to help you but not endanger anyone else.

He looked towards Niragi, noticing the dark-haired man’s eyes flicker towards him from you. Just as he did so, he noticed Niragi running a hand down the side of your neck, making you flinch heavily. The humiliation of this happening in front of your peers was unbearable, more so in front of Chishiya.

“Niragi,” the blonde stood up, having had enough. Niragi pulled himself away from you, looking towards Chishiya’s tense body with a smirk on his face.

“It’s okay, you can leave them alone,” Chishiya said with a monotone tone, trying to seem calm. “They’ve learnt their lesson.”

The mere sight of seeing the murderous man near you was enough to make Chishiya’s heart rate quicken. Although he doesn’t seem it, he’s a very nervous person, especially when it came to your safety.

Niragi doesn’t move, contemplating what he should do as he kept a firm grip on your shoulder. You were frozen beneath him, wincing at the growing strength he was applying to your collarbones.

He let go, allowing you to let out a large breath. “Fine, save your little toy then Shuntaro,” he grumbled in annoyance and moving back to his seat. He knew that if he had a bigger scene than it already was in front of Aguni, he could perhaps lose his control as second-in-command.

You held your head down in humiliation, not daring to look up for the rest of the meeting, not even towards Chishiya, who was trying to get your attention to check that you were okay. After that shit-show, you made sure not to attract unwanted attention.

After the meeting, you didn’t even get a chance to stand up properly before Chishiya grabbed your hand and dragged you out into the hall. He pulled you towards an open balcony to escape anyone else that was around before turning around and facing you.

“Let me see you,” he demanded, making you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “Your neck. Did he hurt you?” he asked frantically while pushing your chin up to look at the skin on your neck to see if there were any bruises. You shook your head and pushed his hands away.

“I’m fine Chishiya,” you insisted. But the way that you stared at the ground wasn’t convincing.

“...I killed them... didn’t I?” you croaked out, fiddling with the skin of your hands. The blood from the two innocent people Niragi had murdered was stained along your skin, making you feel physically sick. You almost wished Niragi had just shot you instead of the other two. It was you who spoke up anyway.

Chishiya sighed heavily and brought his hand to your face, holding your cheek in his palm. You felt slight tears run down your face, causing you to quickly wipe them away.

“Y/N, people are always going to die. You can’t stop it,” he said, running his thumb across your cheekbone. “That wasn’t your fault. They had the choice to not put their hand up.”

You nodded, trying to convince yourself it’s not your fault.

“But for now, we need to focus on our own safety,” Chishiya said, making you shift your gaze from the ground to his eyes. “We need to make sure we’re prepared to leave if any of the militants come after us within the next few days.”

Chishiya held your face in both of his hands and brought your lips together for a quick kiss, making more tears fall from your face at the comforting feeling of his warmth.

When he pulled away, he gave a sad smile and pulled you in for a hug, tucking your face into his shoulder by pushing on your head. “Make sure you stay by my side. Don’t worry, I won’t let Niragi get anywhere near you.”

(A/N): I’m sorryyyyy i know this isn’t that good. i rly need to rewatch some aib again cause it’s been ages since i last watched anything from it alsjldkajslja

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 5 years ago

Text

calculated, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Some people would call you far too serious. Some would call you stuck-up. And some would call you a bitch. But to freshman Jeon Jungkook, you’re the head Calculus I TA noona – and he’s determined to fuck you.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; intense smut (fem reader, semi-public sex, pussy spanking, fingering, m-receiving oral, doggy, dirty talk); non-idol!AU - university!AU; dom!Jungkook x sub!noona!reader, ft instigator Jimin lol

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv

"I think Jungkook likes you."

The lead of your mechanical pencil snapped suddenly. Stupid soft graphite. You glared at it, annoyed, and brushed the broken piece away to complete the equation.

"Who?"

"I think he's taking the afternoon class."

You double-checked the last question and handed him his homework back. "Jimin, you used the wrong equation, here and here."

Park Jimin frowned, face falling when he saw all your corrections. Being one of your parents' friends' kids, your parents and his parents naturally asked you to help him out when he entered the same university as you. You pretty much figured the likelihood of Jimin speaking to you was zero, since he was a dance major and you were a graphics design major. You shrugged and agreed.

Except you forgot you were also the head Calculus I TA and Calculus I was a required course for all students. And, turns out, Jimin wasn't that great at math. That's why you were sitting on cushions at your coffee table in your apartment with Park Jimin, watching a music program as you checked his homework.

"Oh."

Jimin began to look over your arrows and circles. You never actually gave him the answer. He usually ended up forgetting a step in the middle and thus fucked the answer. Usually he caught on easily once you pointed it out.

You stared at the television screen, listening to the latest hit. Not bad. Catchy.

"I think I should tell you because he's kind of reckless," Jimin was saying.

You placed a hand under your head and took a sip of your tea, distracted by the cute MC with the blue hair. He had a cute smile. It reminded you of a bunny.

"Who?"

"Jeon Jungkook," Jimin snapped impatiently.

You raised an eyebrow and faced Jimin. "Oi. I'm correcting your homework here. I could just correct it tomorrow and hand it back to you with red marks instead," you threatened.

He pouted at you, his full lower lip sticking out. "Sorry, noona."

You sighed. "Don't call me that. Makes me feel ancient." You turned your body so you faced him as he scowled at his homework. "Okay, okay, I'm listening now. What did you want to say?"

Jimin put his pencil down immediately and began to chat like an excited gossiping auntie. Round brown eyes getting rounder, glad for a break from his math homework. You didn't want to get him started, but he was going to nag you incessantly until you let him talk.

"I think he sits in the back?" Jimin pondered. "Dark longish hair, wears a lot of black. Looks scary when he's thinking because his eyes go really wide and he furrows his brows."

You twisted your mouth to the side and thought. You only attended the class when they had quizzes or exams because during lectures the professor didn't need your help. Mostly you remembered people by their personal scores or their handwriting, because you graded everything as the head TA. Looking at people's faces wasn't really necessary, unless you were looking for cheating.

"Can't recall. I remember his handwriting though. Not bad," you said, shrugging. "I think he's pretty highly ranked at the moment."

"I think he likes you."

You scoffed. "How did you come to that consensus?"

Jimin tapped his temple sagely. "Intuition."

"If only you used that intuition on Calculus."

He frowned at you, pouting again. You let out a puff of air, conceding.

"What do you want me to do about it?"

Jimin scratched the back of his head. "Well, er... I'm just warning you."

"... Is he a serial killer or something?"

"No, no, no!" Jimin waved his hands on the air hurriedly. "He's really nice. But he can be kind of, uh... forward."

"How old is he?" you asked, glancing at the television for a moment as you took another long sip of your tea.

"Two years younger than me."

You choked.

"What?" you squeaked between coughs. Jimin hurried over and patted your back as you struggled, becoming pink in the face. "The fuck? Tell him to find someone his own age."

"I did!" Jimin whined. "But he's stubborn."

You rolled your eyes. "You're warning me that I have to break a poor freshman's heart?"

"Kind of."

You rubbed your throat. "Hmph. Darn whippersnappers these days."

Jimin smacked your arm, laughing. "I thought you weren't ancient?"

"I am now knowing some kid is fantasizing about their fucking Calculus TA."

You had said your comment sarcastically. You fully expected Jimin to make some joke, but he froze up a little. You looked over to him. He looked somewhat guilty, like a lost puppy who got caught stealing food. You sighed and patted his back.

"Don't worry, I won't chew your friend's heart out. Finish your homework, so I don't drop you off too late. You have practice in the morning, yeah?"

"Y-yeah, thanks."

Forward, huh?

An understatement.

You were sitting in one of the math department offices, laptop open, your drawing tablet in your lap, thinking. The conversation with Jimin happened about two days ago. In that time, you hadn't attended either morning or afternoon class yet, since it was only lectures. Not that it mattered, because lecture halls were massive. If this Jungkook kid sat in the back, then you probably wouldn't be able to see him anyway. At the moment, however, you were preoccupied with your assignment, to design a logo. Logo designing was difficult, especially since a school assignment didn't exactly have a real client attached to it to ask questions.

Technically these were Calculus I office hours, but who attended office hours? Nobody.

Who attended any type of calculus office hours?

Yeah, exactly.

You spent the time doing homework with the door open. You were the only TA that actually showed up for the office hours. Every other TA said it was a waste of time. It was. You still came through; in the off chance some poor kid decided her grade mattered. You felt bad since the actual professor wasn't very patient when people needed extra help. Also, technically you were the head TA, so you did have a bit more responsibility than the others.

Your black boots were perched on the desk as you sat back in your office chair, sketching a few ideas. If a member of the math department saw you, you would probably get in trouble. Thankfully, the math department was usually deserted. Math wasn't exactly the most social subject.

You took a sip of your tea from your thermos, tapping your tablet pen on your black jean-covered thigh.

"You look even better close-up, noona."

A clear, silvery, male voice cut through the silence. The voice came from the doorframe right in front of the desk. You frowned, slowly lifting your head from your tablet. How had you not heard him? Were you really that focused on your assignment?

Chucky black sneakers. Black cargo pants, slim fit. Distressed black sweater, hands casually in his pockets. Broad shoulders. Lightly tanned skin. Sharp jawline. A tiny mole under a mischievous smile. Your eyes narrowed as you made eye contact with those sparkling dark brown orbs. Long hair slicked back, with only a few wispy strands on his forehead.

"Calculus I question?" was your response.

His smile quirked a little higher. The young man didn't have a backpack with him. Didn't even have a piece of paper stuck under his arm. Wasn't even trying to pretend that he needed help.

"I have questions."

He didn't elaborate. You lowered your legs, placing your tablet on your laptop.

"This is Calculus I office hours. For calculus questions only."

His eyes flickered to your laptop and tablet. Back to you.

"Is this what the TAs should be doing during office hours?"

Suddenly, you could feel your pulse in your ears. Point taken.

"What do you want?"

He slid into the chair across from the desk, hands still in his pockets. Watching you carefully, still smiling thoughtfully. It should have been unnerving, but there was no malice in that smile. Maybe you were imagining it though, so you kept your guard up.

"I'm Jeon Jungkook."

Yeah, I guessed, you thought wryly. "And my name is on the syllabus. What do you want?"

He tilted his head at you, studying your face.

"How do you know Jimin-ssi?"

Isn't Jimin older than you, punk? "Our parents are friends."

He nodded slowly. He looked around the windowless office, at the three papers tacked to the wall – outdated notices – to the still open door, to the desk with your laptop, tablet, and backpack. Then to you, sitting back in the black office chair, eyebrow raised, hands half-in the sleeves of your gray flannel, cropped black sweater underneath.

"I think you're beautiful, noona."

Your brain winced at the compliment and your hormones looked up from the abyss. Your brain scolded them to go back to their hidey-hole. You clicked your tongue.

"I'm too old for you."

There was an ever-so-slight tick of his head. His eyes shifted downward and then flicked back up to you, almost shyly, if it wasn't for the small smirk dancing on his lips.

"We both know such a mindset is outdated."

You felt your breath catch in your throat. The fuck? Your hormones peeked out again. Your brain was too distracted with trying to find a comeback to tell them to fuck off. You figured you better cut this off right now before it went too far.

"This whole conversation is inappropriate," you said evenly, standing up from the chair and rolling it back. You walked around the desk and stood in front of it, balancing your ass against it. You crossed your arms over your breasts. "You should leave."

He slowly, slowly gazed up at you. Why did he look so satisfied? Your heart did a little three beat skip. Stop it. Keep it together. Jungkook got to his feet, hands still in his pockets. Then he pulled them out and pushed his sleeves up.

Oh?

Tattoos ran up his right arm, the beginnings of a sleeve. Ink black against light tan, flexed muscle. He was not a skinny pretty boy. You were so busy staring at his arms that you barely registered him placing them casually on either side of you, face right next to yours. Now you were staring down at his broad chest, at his black distressed sweater.

"Excuse me?" you snapped testily, lifting your head to look into his smug eyes.

"I won't touch you," Jungkook murmured quietly. "Unless you ask me to."

This punk ass bitch.

You narrowed your eyes. "What makes you think I would?"

That small teasing smile came back.

"Well, for one, you haven't actually told me you have absolutely no interest yet."

Your hormones prodded you excitedly. Your brain told them to shut up. Your eyes moved to the open door behind his head, looking into the empty hall, trying to keep a balanced, even tone. It came out a little sharper than you intended.

"Door's wide open."

"Embarrassed to be seen with me?" Jungkook purred, breath on your cheek.

You tried not to react even though your hormones were fucking losing it. "What about you?" you shot back sharply.

You heard Jungkook chuckle. "Fuck no I'm not." Your heart jerked heading the crude word come out so daintily and casually from his lips. "I want to be seen with you. All the time. In every position."

You finally tore your eyes from the open door to give him the side-eye. "Real big words there."

Jungkook smirked. "I'm giving you a chance to tell me no. It's taking everything in me not to bend you over this desk right now and fuck your brains out."

You sucked in a breath. Accidentally. Not on purpose. There's absolutely no way Jungkook would have noticed unless he was literally right next to you. Which he was. Shit. He leaned in closer, still not actually touching you.

"You like that idea?" he breathed, the lust evident in his voice, not even trying to hide it.

"I am not some easy bitch at the club, Jungkook. This is the fucking math department," you scolded, eye-level to the base of his neck, wanting very badly to make out with it.

Now it was his turn to inhale sharply. He pulled his head back, and now you were face-to-face with those dark, dark eyes, falling, falling, your body screaming at you to do more. And still you didn’t, torn between reason and instinct.

"I'm so pissed," he growled, breath against your lips. "That the first time I hear you say my name, I wasn't watching your pretty lips form it."

Those few strands brushed against his exposed forehead, framing his furrowed brow and those intense dark brown eyes, making you breathless, telling you that you should, even though the last shreds of reason were telling you, do not, do not, do not give in to Jeon Jungkook.

"It's the middle of the damn day," you murmured.

"And you make me horny every second of every day," he groaned, so close now that his nose almost touched yours. "With your stem stare, your assertive stride, your well-spoken words, and your beautiful body that demands to be kissed, loved, fucked." He panted, shoulders shaking. "God, I want you under me so bad. You have no idea, noona."

Resolve? Hello, where are you?

You raised an eyebrow. "You think you're enough for me?"

His dark eyes gleamed.

"I know I am."

Your eyes flickered to the open door, the vacant hall, feeling Jungkook's body heat hovering so close, so close to you, and then you shifted your eyes back to him. Your brain was screaming at you and your hormones bonked your brain silent. The words at the tip of your tongue came tumbling out, nothing to hold them back anymore.

"Let's see."

And then you kissed him.

Jungkook’s reaction was immediate, his large hands leaving the desk, grabbing your waist, ramming his crotch into you. You gasped against his soft lips and he slid his tongue inside, playing with yours, moaning, kissing you hungrily. His fingers pressed into you through your clothes, strong, tight, unforgiving. Your eyes flew open, surprised at his eagerness. He retreated his tongue and nipped at your lower lip, sucking on it lightly. You shivered, feeling him lift you onto the desk, pushing your legs open with his hips, grinding against you. He kissed down your chin, lifting your head impatiently, moaning against your skin. Every gentle kiss a jolt to your system, contrasting with his rough hands kneading your waist, pulling you close against his firm body, the fucking desk cutting into your thighs, eyelids fluttering.

There was movement at the door.

You froze.

Jungkook’s lips latched onto your neck, sucking sharply. You choked back a wanton moan, seeing a familiar face. A familiar, plump smile with cute, lovely eyes. He waved a small hand at you and reached for the doorknob, locking it from the inside before winking at you and closing the door silently.

Park fucking Jimin.

That bas–

Your thought was sharply cut off by Jungkook nipping at your throat, hissing as he rolled his hips into your thigh, a distinct bulge pressing into you. He yanked down the front of your sweater, sucking on the space right between your collarbones. You whimpered and shuddered, wrapping a leg around his waist and hooking him towards you, hands finally leaving your chest and grabbing his, fingers getting caught in the holes of his sweater.

“Fuck,” he growled. “I’m so fucking hard already because you’re so fucking hot.”

You caught yourself against the desk, elbow slamming onto the wood. You winced. “I haven’t done shit,” you said, surprised to feel your lips slightly swollen.

Jungkook grinned. “You don’t have to. Just you below me is enough.”

You glared at him and he bent over the desk, grabbing the back of your head, pushing your face to his, kissing you again, stealing your breath. It was the perfect mix of force and desperation, leaving you yielding, back arching as he sucked on your tongue, bobbing his head up and down slightly to pull on it. You tried not to make noise – everything was already too noisy anyway – only crying out softly when he let you go. Now you were on your elbows with Jungkook towering over you, licking his lips, the spare strands now stuck to his exposed forehead. His eyes roamed over your body before landing back on your face. You gave him your best questioning look.

He chuckled darkly. “I want to rip all your clothes off, but something tells me you will be upset with me.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Because this is still the middle of the math department, let me remind you, Jungkook.” You huffed. “I don’t live here. Don’t get crazy.”

He grinned, leaning forward. “Say my name again, noona. God, let me watch your delicious lips speak my fucking name.”

You raised your eyebrows. Then you felt his hands on your jeans, undoing the button, making you jump. The zipper going down, down. He yanked at the seam, digging it into your already wet pussy, shoving your panties into your slit.

“A-ah, Jungkook…”

Oh fuck. That sounded kind of pathetic.

He bit his lower lip, and yanked again.

“J-Jungkook, ah…” Your eyelids fluttered, trying to keep your strict demeanor.

“Fuck,” he hissed, firmly gripping the waistband of your jeans and pulling them down your ass, half-dragging your panties down. “You like that, noona? Do you want me to be rough with you?”

You prayed to the higher power that he would just take the damn hint and not make you say it. But Jungkook was dragging your panties back up, the thin black fabric being sucked into your folds and ass as he pulled them far too high. You gasped, trying not to look down, trying not to look at his face. But he grabbed your chin, dragging you back to him, making you open your glazed eyes, making you see his excited expression.

“Look at me, noona.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Jungkook held the front of your panties and pulled, hard. You had to choke back a moan, the fabric nearly ripping, rubbing harshly against your clit. You felt the squelch of you getting wetter, hearing it clearly as he yanked at it, stimulating your clit.

“Tell me you don’t like it, noona,” Jungkook whispered hotly, letting go of your chin. “Tell me and I’ll stop.”

You spread your legs involuntarily, trying very hard not to make a fucking sound, but it was already obvious by your fists clenched against the desk, your widespread legs, and your pussy lips practically sucking your panties in, so much so that they nearly disappeared into you.

Jungkook snuck a glance down, gasping softly at your glistening pussy being tortured by your panties. He dropped to his knees and you had only one second to be confused before Jungkook’s tongue licked up your slit. You had to slap a hand over your mouth to avoid crying out, leaving your sounds limited to muffled whimpers as he lapped at your juices, groaning into you. Your entire lower body vibrated as he teased your covered clit, smushing the fabric into your deeper, rougher. Your hips strained, trying to hump his face but only digging your panties into you harder.

You removed your hand from your face, biting on your tongue to regain some semblance of thought so you fucking talk.

“T-take it off…” you gasped. You looked down, seeing his mischievous eyes above your quivering mound, licking his lips slowly, pink tongue tracing the contours of his mouth.

Jungkook raised his hand.

Smack!

This time you had to actually shove to knuckles into your mouth and mute your squeal as pain radiated through you, your pussy stinging. He slapped you again, right on your clit, hard, making your throw your head back and nearly hit the desk, hips raising to meet him. Oh, God. He pressed his finger against your aching clit, rubbing hard, standing up to bend over you, an impossibly strong presence as he pleasured you.

“Say it, noona,” he breathed. “Tell me you like getting your pussy spanked.”

He was rubbing your clit so hard that you felt your hips raise into it, eyes rolling back into your head.

“Say it or I’ll stop,” he warned menacingly, voice so low it ripped through you.

You tore your knuckles out of your mouth. “Don’t stop, please, fuck, Jungkook, I love it when you spank my clit, fuck, please, fuck.” The words came jumbling out in a rushed, half-panicked whisper, cut off by your sharp gasp as your orgasm clawed into you. You felt Jungkook slap his free hand over your mouth, shutting off your wail as your throbbed into his hand, turning into helpless whines as he spanked your clit hard and fast, accentuating your high with waves of sudden, aching pain. You pushed his hand away, pressing your head against the desk, gasping.

“Harder, please, Jungkook, harder.”

He was staring at your fucked-out face, massaging your throbbing pussy with his palm, coating his fingers with your cum. Your voice a thin moan, hips rutting into him.

“Believe me, I want to,” he snarled. “I want to so fucking bad, noona, but we’re already loud enough and you’re making a fucking mess.”

He pulled your panties down, nearly useless at this point and roughly shoved two fingers into you. You gasped, tongue lolling out and he took the chance to put two fingers of his free hand into your mouth, rubbing your wet tongue. You could feel every joint, the calluses of his fingertips as he thrust them into you, slopping, wet sounds accompanying his movements.

“Fuck, look at you, noona, sucking in my fingers, letting me fuck your mouth,” Jungkook murmured, centimeters away from your face. “I haven’t even fucked you with my cock yet and you’re already taking me so well.”

If you could think, you probably would have a snappy response, but Jungkook was stuffing his fingers into your mouth and scissoring the others inside your pussy, driving you insane. You made eye contact with Jungkook, him and his blown-out pupils, his lips trembling as he rammed his fingers into your holes faster, harder, sliding you up the wooden desk. Something inside you snapped and you squeezed your eyes shut, your body shaking as you came again, trying to yell, but unable to because Jungkook shoved his fingers into your throat, making you almost choke if it wasn’t for your own expertise. An embarrassing amount of liquid poured down his hand and wrist, dripping down your thighs. You clamped your legs shut, burying his hand, hips jerking as the aftershocks rippled through you.

You heard Jungkook swallow loudly, jaw tight. He slowly pulled his fingers out of both holes, strings of bodily fluid following him as he did so. Your shaking knees were barely holding your lower body up, jeans constricting your calves and your upper body way too fucking hot.

You laid back on the wood, trying to catch your breath. Was it a fucking cliché? Probably. You felt Jungkook lift himself off the desk and you closed your eyes, chest heaving. Of course. He was just going to leave you like this, tearing your secret out of you and then leaving to boast about how he turned the head Calculus I TA into a helpless, submissive puddle of goo without even actually fucking you. Why did you even bother–

You suddenly felt the desk creak and snapped your eyes open to Jungkook climbing onto it, straddling your chest, unzipping his pants right in front of your face. His slicked hair was becoming unfurled now, more and more dark strands falling down around his ears. His brow furrowed, eyes so wide and focused you weren’t even sure he was actually looking at you.

“Uh–”

He reached in his black boxer briefs impatiently and pulled out his thick, leaking cock. Your eyes widened and his found yours, glittering with arousal. A smear of pre-cum grazed your cheek as he adjusted his position to push the red, bulbous tip against your lips.

“I want to fuck you, noona, but you have to clean me up,” Jungkook breathed, gently asking you but also trying to greedily push his dick into your mouth.

You could say something, but somehow you concluded you were going to be muffled anyway, so you opened your mouth, tongue snaking out and licking the head. Flat, wide, and all over, coating your tongue with his pre-cum, moaning at his taste. Jungkook sunk his teeth into his lower lip, hissing softly as he spread his legs even more, lowering himself slowly into your mouth. You licked around his cock before closing your lips and sucking, growing wet as he thrust his hips into your mouth, slow and steady, eyes closed. You reached up to hold onto his thighs, whimpering as you felt his muscular quads through his pants. He opened his eyes and looked down at you, sliding his cock in a little deeper, hitting the back of your throat.

“Fuck, noona, so fucking sexy, taking my cock like that,” he groaned, reaching down and pushing your hair out of your eyes. His dark hair hung down, framing his face in shadow, making your pussy throb at the image. “Makes me want to fill all your holes up, makes me want to coat you with my cum and see you covered in it, messy and dirty with me.”

You couldn’t say anything so you just whined, nails digging into his covered thighs.

“You want that?” His voice dropped several octaves again. Your skin prickled hotly with every word. “You want me to jack off all over you and leave you a mess covered with my cum?”

You squeezed your thighs together, desperate for friction, now moving your head to suck harder, rubbing the tip fiercely against the back of your throat.

“F-fuck,” he gritted out. He tapped your hand hurriedly, eyelids fluttering. “S-stop, stop.” You whimpered, sadly looking up at him. He chuckled, rubbing your knuckles soothingly.

Look here you little shit, you can’t say all that dirty stuff and not expect me to be horny, your eyes were telling him.

“I know, I know,” he purred. “But I want to fuck your pussy and office hours are almost over…”

You glowered at him, but reluctantly unhinged your jaw, opening your lips. He slid out, gasping, hitting you in the chin and getting the front of your sweater wet.

“You’re a jerk,” you muttered as he climbed off you.

Jungkook chuckled. “Sorry, noona.”

You shook your hair and reached into your backpack, pulling out a condom, only to turn around and see Jungkook pulling one out of his back pocket.

“Oh.” You blinked at him. “You’re prepared.”

Jungkook wiggled his eyebrows. “I knew what I was coming for.”

A muscle in your brow twitched as he tucked his tongue in his cheek, grinning widely at you as he ripped it open and slid it on slowly, rolling it down his thick cock. His voice changed, dipping raspy and low.

“Turn around.”

Part of you wanted to fight, but then you spied the time. You rolled onto your stomach, sighing exaggeratedly as your legs tangled a bit in your jeans. You felt Jungkook’s presence behind you as he bent over your back, hand sliding over your lips and covering your mouth.

“Sigh all you want, noona,” he growled, chuckling as you shivered. “Just don’t scream when I’m fucking you.”

Your eyes widened as you felt the head press against your puffy pussy lips, pushing in forcefully, expanding your tight little hole as his cock entered you, his moan against your ear, your name dripping with lust. Both of you still mostly clothed, but his cock sliding deep, deep inside you, his teeth on your earlobe. Your walls throbbed around him, squeezing him. He gasped, jutting his hips experimentally into you. A stifled moan sneaked past his fingers, your tongue licking them lightly.

“That’s it,” he breathed. “Nice and tight for me, bent over this desk.” He nipped at your ear, whispering softly as he began to fuck you. “What if someone hears you, whimpering for my cock, begging to be fucked?”

Your hands clenched into fists, eyes fluttering shut, feeling him pound you into the wood, deep and slow and far too perfect.

“Noona, what if someone sees you?” His voice like smoke, invading all your thoughts, threatening your dreams, cursing you with the feeling of his lips on your ear and his hips pounding your ass. “Proper, harsh, strict noona turning into a slut for this cock, bent over this desk and humping my hips so you can get this dick deeper inside you?”

You squeezed your eyes shut and wiggled your ass against his cock. He thrust his hips harder into you, jerking you forcefully upwards, your thighs smacking against the desk. Light flickered in front of your closed eyelids and you opened them, seeing your phone screen glaring at you. A message from Jimin. Finish already! You struggled to say his name and Jungkook lifted his hand for a moment to hear your shaking breath.

“Jungkook,” you panted. “Time.”

He covered your mouth again. “You’re right,” he grunted, rolling his hips into you, biting back his moans as you clenched around him. The wet, slapping sounds became louder as he changed his angle, fucking you roughly into the table. It pushed your hips up and you clung onto the edge of the desk, moaning around his hand, tongue pressed flat against his palm as he fucked you with reckless abandon, beating a damn indent of the edge of the desk into your thighs. The dull ache was going to lead to a bruise, but you didn’t care, pushing your hips back to meet him. A choked wail vibrated in your throat as you came again, whole body lurching as he sunk his teeth into your clothed shoulder, groaning as he came inside you, cock twitching and throbbing against your walls. You felt the condom expand, matched with Jungkook’s hiss as he pumped into you. You pulsed your pussy around him and he detached his mouth, whispering your name against your ear.

“You’re dirty, noona,” he rasped, the words so breathless they made you shiver. “I love it.”

You shakily reached up and peeled his hand from your mouth, gasping as he straightened to hold the condom and pull out of you. Fuck. Oh fuck. You scrambled for your phone, seeing Jimin’s text.

You better rush outta there, noona.

You heard the wet, peeling sound of Jungkook pulling the used condom off gingerly. You turned around, hissing at Jungkook before he threw it in the trash.

“Are you crazy?” you muttered, snatching it from him. “Someone will see.”

Jungkook blinked at you. “What else do I do with it?”

You glared at him and tied it up, grabbing some tissues and wrapping it inside. Then you shoved it in your backpack, along with your laptop, your tablet, the spare condom, and reaching over the desk to unplug your laptop’s AC adaptor so you could shove that in your bag too.

“Fuck, your ass is so sexy,” Jungkook marveled behind you.

“Jungkook, we have to get the fuck out of here, so pack your damn dick,” you ordered, yanking your jeans up. Squelch. You sucked in your lower lip in at the cold, uncomfortable sensation of your soaked panties. You zipped your bag and checked around the desk to make sure you took everything. You grabbed your phone and shoved it in your back pocket, turning around to see Jungkook rezipping his pants. Thank God. You might have been tempted if he hadn’t listened to you. Then you remembered the two bits of condom wrapping on the floor and picked those up too, shoving them in your other pocket.

Jungkook smirked at you. “So thorough, noona.”

You scowled at him. Maybe he hadn’t been in this situation before, but you sure as hell have.

“Stay here for twenty seconds and then leave.”

Jungkook pouted at you. You felt your heart skip a beat.

“But I don’t even have your number.”

You rolled your eyes. “Ask Jimin. You two are in cahoots anyway.” You popped your head out, looking around. No one. You popped your head back in. “Also, you owe me new panties the next time I see your smug little face, you punk,” you added, tone irate.

He smirked at you; his long dark hair wispy around his playful eyes.

You gave him one last look before you tore your eyes away, rushing through every back stairway to get the hell out of there before someone could realize you just fucked a freshman during office hours, your slopping, torn-up panties reminding you with every step that you really needed Jeon Jungkook to fuck you again.

part ii

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts smut #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic

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a-bio-hero-writer · 3 years ago

Note

Lovely! So in case you didn’t know, it’s the anon with the earlier crush requests here. So here’s an idea, and I don’t care if it takes a long time to get to, time is one thing I have plenty of: how do you think Antroz and/or Vamprah would react to having a crush on the reader? I mean yeah, they’d probably be focused on their goals, but let’s just pretend they weren’t trying to destroy the world here. Or it could be as they would normally act. Anything works. Thank you and have a nice day!

Here ya go :)) Have fun

Also I’m sorry for the gifs, they ain’t as great as they should be

I believe that he would be the oblivious type

As in completely unaware about his feelings

He would try to have his crush near him all the time, however would have no idea that he has feelings for the said crush

And what is better than having their rank increased

Like a higher rank general/his right hand/advisor or something along those lines (garmadaddy vibes except he’s serious and more focused + actually applies honour to what he’s doing)

"Love, can you take these to others? I would really appreciate it."

"Darling, have you seen my supersuit weapons?"

All those pet names, and him still being unaware that he is completely in love

100% will fight others.

"Back off with thy filthy hands, no one touches the heavenly one"

An unusual trait that would frighten probably everyone else but is completely normal for the two: Antroz, while still being in flight, randomly scoops up his love interest into the air, like an eagle does with its prey or something like that and continue the conversation about the important matters

"Have you checked whether we’ve got enough equipment."

"I had Chirox do it"

"Huh, he must’ve been displeased."

"As if I care."

"You do, he’s on your team."

"You’re right. What’s next on the list?"

He chose his crush as his right hand, but in the end it’s pretty obvious that the roles are reversed

He’s the one who would do (pretty much) anything for the said crush

"I’m not sure if that plan will work, Antroz. Wouldn’t it be better to leave the battlefield before everyone gets destroyed?"

"I’m not truly fond of that idea. However you are my #1 advisor. Whatever you wish shall happen."

"Oh, in that case I want to go on a trip to Voya Nui."

"This can be arranged. But we’re killing Teridax afterwards."

Canon can go and cry abt me altering it can’t say I care

The love interest confessed first though.

"Oh… Ohh… so that’s why I’ve been drawn to you."

"What do you mean?"

"When I recruited you I just simply fell for you."

"??? You weren’t aware of that until now-"

"Yeah, can we now go back to the world domination plans please?"

Mostly enjoying silence together

Pretty much wordless communication as well

Vamprah needs something? Say no more he actually said nothing but oh well, crush already is there next to him with the needed thing

In difference to Antroz, I believe that Vamprah first became friends and only fell afterwards

Hence there was trash talking about other members at first because of reasons specified later

Especially during the times of need

"I think Chirox is in trouble"

"Honestly struggling to care, to be fair"

Ft. Even more trash talking whenever he gets jealous that crush is spending more time with others

"[Name], Icarax ain’t shit"

"What one considers a knight in shining armour to be, Icarax is more of a loser in aluminium foil, so why even bother getting mad."

"Shots fired"

He likes the idea of taking his crush to the hunts

Since, after all, the two work really well without talking, so why wouldn’t it be helpful in practice

Another typical thing is for the crush to hold onto Vamprah’s back while he climbs or is in flight and Gavla isn’t around

Fights others too

He’s the nervous type when it comes to love stuff

Friend? Stoic behaviour, no need for any special emotions

Crush? Panic.

Tried very hard to keep his cool

He really did

"Everything is going to be fine, it’s just a crush."

"Hey Vamprah"

"I love you-"

Yeah, it was a fast and unexpected confession

But It worked so he isn’t bothered by it

He starts to get bothered though when questions about his past resurface

"What do you mean nobody has never been interested in you in a romantic way?"

"I used to have an imaginary special one for a while, but then they left me. Apparently I was giving them a silent treatment."

"But you hardly ever speak-"

#bionicle #bionicle g1 #x reader #Vamprah #Antroz #im sorry if either of the characters seem ooc #i swear i tried my best #that awkward moment when chirox got more screen time than vamprah even if it’s a commercial

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twisted-tales-of-all · 4 years ago

Text

Stuck in the Game

Mafia!Dad!Yunhyeong x Mom!Reader ft. Mafia!ATEEZ, Mafia!iKON, Mafia!BTS

Summary: When your daughter, Soojin, finally finds someone she likes, her father freaks out because, despite his best efforts to keep her out of that life, the boy in question is also a mafia member. A rival group finds the couple and uses the relationship as blackmail.

Anon Request: a long and specific request that started with dad!Wonwoo but was changed to Yunhyeong and we edited the specifics together so idk what to put here anymore lol

Word Count: 3.3-3.4K

Contains: mafia!AU, violence, guns, kidnapping, blackmail, reunion of old friends-turned-rivals, forced cooperation, fluff, angst

A/N: This took forever for me to get the energy to type out and format, I’m sorry, but I’m proud that I implemented all the aspects I wanted to in this.

If 17-year-old you could see yourself now, you don't know whether the reaction would be amazement or fear. At age 23, you were a performer and bartender for a high-end bar famous for its mafia visitors. You'd often listen to their meetings whenever they requested "beautiful company," and that made you a very valuable person in the business, even without you trying to be.

When the day you feared finally came, your kidnappers wanted all the information you had from other mafia groups. They were very kind to you, treating you like a valuable treasure. They called themselves iKON, and the moniker was written in numerous places in the house. Their leader, B.I., insisted you be treated like royalty, but one of the boys enjoyed the chaos of going against the leader's requests. He was a charmer, and you fell for him quickly. Gradually, the romantic encounters turned into sexual encounters, and you found out that you were pregnant with his child shortly after.

Until the day you told him of the pregnancy, you only knew him by his mafia name, Song. When you revealed your secret, however, he happily disclosed that "Yunhyeong will be a good father. Don't worry." It was his way of disconnecting his mafia status from his child. You figured this out as he moved you out of the mafia base with B.I.'s approval and bought a good home for you both to stay.

You remember the day you gave birth as if it was yesterday. You remember the joy that swept away all the pain as you held your newborn daughter. You remember all the boys visiting you at different times, and you'll never forget how proud Yunhyeong looked as he introduced his squad to his daughter.

Soojin. You remember her baby face without issue, even though it was 17 years ago. Your daughter grew up so fast - as you're told they all do.

Soojin and her father get along so well. Both of them are trouble makers, so you always see them planning chaos or laughing about something together. You and your daughter talk about deeper subjects more often than not, so seeing her being carefree and enjoying life with Yunhyeong brings so much joy to your heart.

Today, however, you catch them fighting. You don't hear the topic, only Soojin storming out after her final jab at her father, "You don't understand me at all!"

Seeing the pain on Yunhyeong's face hurts, but you decide to check in with your daughter instead, knowing that Yunhyeong can handle himself. Following Soojin, you find her on the front porch, sitting with her arms wrapped around her legs and her head buried in her knees. You sit down next to her, the wooden patio revealing your presence with a creak. You don't say anything before she immediately begins ranting about her father.

"Why doesn't he understand? Why can't he just be happy that I found someone that makes me happy?"

This is the first time your daughter has ever mentioned anything along the lines of having a crush, so you know it must be important to her, "Soojin, you've found someone?" You try approaching the situation softly, opting to learn about her partner before thinking about why her father would be upset.

"Mom, he's amazing. He's really sweet and caring. He takes me to nice parks, and we message every single day. He's pretty tall and really cute, too."

"So, what's this boy's name?"

"Hyunwoo. Jeong Hyunwoo. He's a year older than I am, and he's technically in the mafia - he was born into it just like me - but he treats me so well."

Suddenly, you understand why Yunhyeong freaked out over Soojin's boyfriend, but you don't bring it up just yet, "Jeong Hyunwoo. He sounds nice. Have you met his family?"

"Yup! We hang out with his dad a lot. He's super cool. Makes lots of jokes. His mom died when he was younger, and he's an only child, so it's just the two of them. For some reason, though, dad freaked out on me when I told him. Something about dangerous relationships and hoping I'd never have to deal with this stuff. I have no idea what he's talking about. Ugh, it's not fair. Why can't he be cool about it like Hyunwoo's dad?"

"Honey, your father just wants to protect you. He'll come around. He just knows someone he has bad blood with that has the same last name. They used to be friends but the friend was recruited into a mafia group, which meant he never even said his goodbyes to your father."

"But dad's in the mafia, so what's the big deal?"

With a sigh, you reveal some of your husband's past, "Your dad didn't choose to join. He had to join or they would've killed him for the damages he caused as a teenager. He despises the lifestyle, but there's no way to leave once you become part of it. Your father accepted the life he was forced into and did his best with what was given to him. His friend, Yunho, on the other hand, was invited and willingly chose to join. He does want you to be happy, but he's worried about your life if you date a mafia member."

"Well, what about you? Why'd he date you if that was the case? He was okay involving you?"

You laugh and shake your head. You think back on the unconventional relationship you and your now-husband had before the marriage, but decide not to explain that quite yet, "That's a very long and complicated story for another day. Just know that your situation is extremely different from mine. If you truly love Hyunwoo, don't let your father's attitude affect the relationship. When he sees you truly happy, he'll support you. Believe me."

You could tell that Soojin wasn't quite convinced, but she was always head-strong, so you also know that she will continue her relationship. So, you weren't surprised when she came to you a few days after and announced that she had a date with Hyunwoo. Watching her walk out in her cute date outfit, you can't help but feel proud of her for following her heart.

During the date, you finally confront Yunhyeong, "She'll be okay, y'know? She's the daughter of two very strong people, and we've raised her well."

"I tried so hard to keep her out of the mafia life. And a Jeong of all people could ruin all of that."

You place a hand on his back, "Yunhyeong, you can't use your past against her future. Aren't you happy Soojin finally found her first love?"

"Well, yeah, but..." He sighs, deciding not to finish his complaint.

"She'll be fine."

---

Soojin meets with Hyunwoo at the coffee shop down the street. When he sees her, the smile shows on his whole face.

"You look so beautiful." He places a kiss on her head and takes the seat across from her.

"Thanks, Hyunwoo. My mom helped choose my outfit and styled my hair for me."

Unknown to the couple basking in their puppy love, a low-ranking member of another mafia group sits at the next table and recognizes Hyunwoo's name. To confirm that he's the right person, the member listens in on their conversation.

"How's training? Is your dad being hard on you?"

"Naw, it's pretty smooth. What about you, though? How'd your parents react when you told them?"

"My mom is understanding. She fell for a member, too, after all, so she can relate. My dad, on the other hand... Ugh, he's so difficult!"

At this point, the stranger decides to alert his higher-ups of this potential Achilles' heel for the ATEEZ mafia team.

"He doesn't approve?"

"He hates that I'm becoming part of a lifestyle he tried so hard to keep me out of. My mom said it has to do with your name, too. Apparently, my dad's childhood friend ended up willingly joining the mafia without saying goodbye, and his last name was Jeong."

No longer paying attention, the stranger has been communicating with other members about following the couple around for a kidnapping so they can blackmail their rival mafia group. When the couple leaves the cafe, he follows them to a nearby park, his last-second assignment to find her house underway.

At the end of the date, Hyunwoo walks Soojin back home, finding you sitting out on the porch, reading under the warm light.

"Hey. mom! I'm back!"

As you look up from the book, you find your daughter waving at you with one hand as her other arm links with a nervous-looking boy. You stand up to greet them, and you notice Hyunwoo relax a bit when he realizes how nice you are. You have a short chat before Hyunwoo claims he should get home before his father worries.

"Thank you for walking Soojin home. Get home safely."

You and your daughter watch as he leaves, then she enthusiastically recounts the events of the date. Seeing her this happy makes you smile, as she hasn't smiled this brightly since she was a young child. When the two of you head inside, she falls asleep the moment she lays down. You meet with your husband in your shared bedroom.

"How is he?"

"He seems sweet. He was clearly nervous when he saw me, and he genuinely seems to love her and wants to keep her safe."

"That's good." His robotic response ends the conversation, so you both get into bed.

A few weeks pass before Soojin and Hyunwoo have time for another date. You offer to drive her to the arcade, but she insists on walking to enjoy the nice weather. You kiss her forehead as you tell her to be safe, then watch her until she leaves your view.

Maybe an hour later, an exhausted Hyunwoo comes banging on your front door.

Between moments to catch his breath, he pleads, "Please... tell me Soojin is here... She never came..."

Even though you answered the door, Yunhyeong hears and freaks out. "I told you, Y/N! It's too dangerous for her! She might've been kidnapped!"

You quickly bring Hyunwoo inside, looking up and down the street before closing and locking the door. Once both boys have calmed down a bit, you try calling your daughter, but you're immediately sent to the voicemail. Moments later, Hyunwoo gets a call from his father, who sounds very confused but speaks urgently without revealing details. When Hyunwoo tells him where he is, his father hangs up. Ten minutes later, Yunho pulls up with his leader in the passenger seat. You let them in quickly, only for chaos to ensue the moment Yunhyeong sees Yunho.

He abruptly stands, the chair falling behind him, "Get out of my house."

"Babe, we both want the same things right now. Put the rivalry aside." You try.

"It's him, Y/N. This is the bastard who left without so much as a goodbye."

Time feels frozen as everyone's eyes go wide. Yunho sighs, breaking the silence.

"Hello, Song. It's been a while. You may hate me for the past, but your daughter has been kidnapped. She's being held as blackmail against my group. So, unless you want her to die there, I suggest you put that hatred aside so we can save her."

"Dad?"

"I don't know what you've learned, Hyunwoo, but Song and I were best friends until I chose to join the group, which forced us to cut ties. Their group is a rival; there wasn't much choice in the matter." Yunho says it as if it was rehearsed for years, his eyes still transfixed on Yunhyeong's.

The ATEEZ leader clears his throat before moving forward with the information he has, "I'm HJ, and I received a link to this video earlier." He hits play on his tablet and talks over the soundless visual of your daughter tied down to a chair, "This was accompanied by a message demanding that we give up some of our fronts to them or she dies. I don't think they realize she's your daughter, or else they'd be blackmailing your group as well."

The four boys discuss further action while you listen, quietly analyzing the options. Hours pass without much progress being made. When you finally try to chime in about going to get her yourself, using the same tactics you used as a dancer, there's another knock on the door. The room instantly falls silent as Yunhyeong slinks toward the door, a hand on his gun. As he looks through the peephole, his body relaxes. Keeping his hand on the gun in case of ambush, he opens the door for B.I., who gives him a pitiful look before stepping inside.

"This doesn't look good, Song." The leader states as he pulls out an envelope addressed to iKON.

Opening it, Yunhyeong finds a lock of hair and a handwritten note:

iKON, we have one of your members. This member is a daughter of one of your high ranks. We suggest you follow the instructions on the back of this message if you want to see her ever again.

On the back, the instructions simply list a date, time, and place to meet, followed by their demands of a certain area under iKON's control. From the handwritten element, Yunhyeong quickly narrows down the suspects to two cocky newer groups: Bangtan or The Strays.

"Why is ATEEZ here?" B.I. asks when he reaches the others.

"Soojin is my girlfriend."

"And Hyunwoo is my son. It was easy blackmail for them."

HJ stands and holds out a hand to B.I., "Looks like we have to work together this time."

He reluctantly shakes his hand, gripping tightly, "Only this once. I don't want to lose that zone, but I can't risk Song going insane over his daughter's death either."

The debating and planning continue with more force, as the deadline doesn't give much time. Now that they can narrow down the subjects, they can plan in more depth. The two groups in question are much cockier, so they'll expect the ultimatum to be enough for cooperation. However, they're both smart enough to plan defenses in case of an ambush, and they have the numbers on their side. You're quick to point out that Bangtan's numbers don't show for power, as the top seven do everything themselves rather than relying on others, protective of everything they started together. Hyunwoo adds that The Strays don't have the same numbers as Bangtan, but that power is much more balanced, with each of the top members taking assistants by their side.

"We have to assume this is Bangtan. I don't think The Strays would be this aggressive. They'd take their sweet time with their attack. They'd probably kidnap Soojin and Hyunwoo together so that they have a larger upperhand." B.I. declares, repeating for clarity, "Bangtan do things on impulse like this. The Strays think too much."

Agreeing, you all begin fully planning the attack. Ultimately, Hyunwoo and Yunhyeong will attend the meeting, since they're the clear emotional targets in this scheme. You will infiltrate enemy lines if at all possible, with the support of the ATEEZ elite hacker, Yeosang. B.I. and HJ will join each group's top sniper, aiming at whoever joins the meeting on the opposite side, as well as keeping eye on anyone who comes into contact with you. Everyone wants this done as quickly and quietly as possible.

After two agonizingly-long days, the plans are put into action. Yeosang finds you an entrance around the side of the building, disabling its alarm long enough for you to get inside. You quickly find yourself in a group of other girls who are being given simple equipment. As you approach, the person hanging out guns asks for your member number. Without fail, iKON's intel expert spits out a number that you repeat with confidence.

"Name?"

"Kim Eunsoo." You relay the information you're given and receive a small handgun.

You follow the others, blindly acting like the rest of the pack. You don't have sight on the meeting, but you find yourself face-to-face with one of Bangtan's top members. He gives you a once-over before giving you the 'follow me' gesture with his fingers. Although you're scared, remembering rumors of him being the harshest of the members despite his sweet-sounding name.

When Suga finally leads you far enough from the others, he throws a hand around your throat and leans in close, "Do you think we're that dumb?"

He pulls your earpiece from your ear and breaks it under his foot before moving his hand to your hair, dragging you to the meeting. He cuffs your wrists behind your back before pushing you to the floor next to your daughter.

"Well, well, well. You actually did try some tricks. Good for you. Now, we have both of your girls, Song. You better give us what we want." RM, Bangtan's leader claims, a smirk plastered on his face the whole time.

He clearly sounds victorious, so you refuse to look up, hiding your proud smile since they're falling so easily into the trap everyone set. There were no disguises; you meant to get caught. As he continues his victory monologue, you fidget with the handcuffs, slipping out easily without letting them see. You press a button planted in the fake wedding ring you're wearing, alerting everyone that you've freed yourself and can continue the plan.

See, they neglected to take the loaded gun back, believing you wouldn't be able to use it anyway due to the constraints.

"RM, tell me. You think we're idiots for trying to beat you this time, right?" Hyunwoo mocks, cutting off the mafia boss mid-sentence, "You think we'd send Y/N in without a disguise and expect to get a win like that. Isn't that right, buddy?"

Right on queue, you point your gun at RM, and the snipers turn the scope lights on, revealing that the other members have targets on their chests. The leader chuckles and raises his hands.

"Oh no! They have us surrounded! Can you believe this, Jin?" Sarcasm flowing from every word, you realize he's planned for far more than you expected.

Understanding RM's plans at the same time, Hyunwoo lunges toward his girlfriend, shielding her body with his. Shots sound. Groans echo through the building as bullets pierce skin, followed quickly by shuffling feet to get the wounded out of harm's way.

When the dust settles, Yunho and B.I. quickly work to treat the wounded. As B.I. removes a bullet from your right shoulder, you tell him that you hit RM clean in the leg.

"It seemed like slow motion. I watched the bullet break his skin right before the pain hit my back."

"If you're such a good shot, we should train you properly. Dunno if your husband would approve, though."

Everyone made it back safely, so you're all exceptionally happy about how smooth it went. Only you and Hyunwoo actually got hit, and, luckily, neither shot hit anything vital. You also know Bangtan didn't suffer many injuries either, which gives you peace of mind.

Once B.I. finishes dressing the wound, you meet with Yunhyeong, who won't stop thanking Hyunwoo for jumping on top of Soojin and taking the bullet. You drag him away and have him meet with Yunho, who sits on the roof with a celebratory bottle of beer.

"Hey... Thanks for helping save our daughter." Yunhyeong nervously starts, sitting in between the two of you.

"Now, Yunho, so you want to tell Yunhyeong what you told me?"

Silence falls over the group momentarily.

"Nah, I think this speaks enough." Stubbornly, he takes another swig of his drink before laying back, "I'll help my friends, even if the companies we work for are rivals."

As silence creeps in again, you decide not to push for it anymore tonight. You already have a nice victory to sit on, so you feel no need to try for another. You lay down and let your mind drift as you stare up at the stars, knowing full well that Yunhyeong will accept Hyunwoo as family, meaning Yunho will slowly become part of the family as well.

#kpop boys #kpop scenarios #kpop boy scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop writing #kpop fanfiction #ikon scenarios #ikon imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #mafia ateez #mafia ikon #mafia bts #song yunhyeong #ikon song #ikon yunhyeong #mafia yunhyeong #mafia kpop

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chxseungyoun · 6 years ago

Text

lee jeno 《 dial 143 ♡

pairing: reader x cupid! jeno ft. dreamies

genre: au, fluff, supernatural.

words: 6.8K

author’s note: the longest i have written tbh. It took me three weeks to finish this. ;;

Jeno was a junior cupid. See, in the cupid community, before you get to the honorary level of actually matchmaking people, you have to go through some training. Cupids who end up missing the criteria receive grave punishments and that is why Eros, the leader of all cupids decided to implement such training. Jeno was not necessarily fond of the idea of being trained before he could actually do what he was designed for. To him, he much preferred to just go about and help soulmates fall in love with one another but that was just not the case.

He even tried to beg his mentor, Jaehyun, to try and convince the higher ranks to let him skip out on this training. Jaehyun was firm about it however, that it was necessary for all junior cupids to go through it before they become full-pledged cupids. Without seeing a gleam of hope, Jeno just went along with it.

There were numerous trainings offered for junior levels. Some were more for the theoretical practice of matchmaking while the others are more hands on. Jeno was classified for the hands on option by Jaehyun. He always knew that Jeno was popular with his fellow trainees but not as much with actual human beings.

This is why he was sent down to earth to host a radio station which focused on love struggles by the listeners. This was not Jeno’s cup of tea but did he actually have a choice. Luckily enough, the radio station was owned by Jaehyun who just like any other cupid, can take form of a normal human. Meaning without their wings and all that.

Jeno was already dreading having to talk to humans to listen about their dilemmas because he thought that as soon as you had fates met and love arrows shot then your job was done. Apparently, he had more to find about how their job actually works,

To add onto it, Jeno had to work with another human manning the broadcasting station. His name was Jaemin, and he was quite the charmer or so it may seem. All the female staff in the station would literally fall down in a love trance for him. Jeno would only watch at it, if they only knew that this boy already has been doused with a love shot from one of his fellow cupids, Chenle.

“Welcome to the Dream Station! My name’s Jaemin but you can call me Nana.” Jaemin smiled as he offered a hand towards Jeno who reluctantly shook with it.

“Thank you.” Jeno bowed before taking his seat across from Jaemin.

“So this is your first time as a disc jockey, right?” He smiles warmly at the skeptical Jeno.

“Yeah. I never actually expected to be doing this…but here we are.” He responded in half honesty.

Jaemin could see that Jeno was a bit standoffish but he did not take that into offense. He just thought that since this was Jeno’s first that he may be a bit nervous with it. Surprisingly, he was considerate. One of the key points of why females were so attracted to him.

“You know our job isn’t that simple. We have to somehow connect to the hearts of the listeners and sometimes place ourselves in their shoes.” Jaemin noted as Jeno tried to feign like he had been listening. He already knew this from his training so he did not see the need to hear it all over again.

“Sure. Jaehyun—hyung, told me to be your shadow for the mean time.” He tried to say calmly and when he glanced from the other side of the studio, the older male just gave him a thumbs up.

The rest of the hour, Jaemin explained to Jeno the concept of the radio show. They would be receiving calls from the listeners and they would share them secrets and problems that they would need advice with. However, it was a live broadcast as well so you can both listen from the radio station or watch from the internet. He gave Jeno a small warning that he needs to muster his facial expressions so he wouldn’t intimidate the viewers.

“Do I really have to?” Jeno asked as he glanced at the camera that was being set up in front of them.

“Don’t be nervous! With your looks, I think you’ll instantly be liked by the public.” Jaemin smiled as he prepared the script for today’s show.

Then began the show. It had the usual sappy love music being played at the start before Jaemin introduced himself as well as Jeno, as the new member of the station.

You were more of a viewer than a listener so you decided to watch through their website. You could see the amount of heart bubbles floating on the screen when they zoomed in on Jeno. You had to admit that he did look handsome, almost angelic if you were honest. However, your attention had always been focused on the original host of the show, Jaemin.

You two went to school together and lucky enough, he was in almost all your classes. You believed the heavens shined upon you by doing so but the problem is, Jaemin probably only sees you as someone who he would just have to see while he was still in school. You basically had a crush on someone who probably never cared for your existence.

Ring Ring Ring

You were brought back to reality when you heard that familiar tone. It was time for their call segment which was just conveniently named Dial 143 or Dial I Love You. It was one of your favorite parts since you get to see Jaemin’s perspective about love and you can picture yourself being in those situations with him. You knew it was a bit delusional of you to do so but anyone can dream, right?

“Since our DJ Jeno here is a bit new. We’ll have him listen to the usual love struggles first before we let him take on his own call, okay? I hope you guys would understand. I know you all are excited to hear him too.” Jaemin smiled at the camera and you could just feel your heart jump out.

You did not even realize that slight grimace Jeno did when Jaemin spoke. Your attention was all set on the latter.

The show proceeded with Jaemin responding to a problem about a girl falling in love with someone who she cannot have or she was not destined for. Jaemin explained that sometimes, if you work hard, they would be able to notice your efforts too.

As Jeno listened, he could tell that Jaemin did not know a single thing about cupid’s work. Well, how could he when he was just a normal human being. He then interjected in call which caused surprised around the studio. “It doesn’t happen like that.”

“Oh? Then how does it happen?” The intrigued Jaemin asked Jeno.

“When somebody does not fall in love with you the same way you did, then it’s most likely that you didn’t get sh---“ before he could continue the sentence with being shot by an arrow, he saw Jaehyun’s warning look from across the studio. “You didn’t get the right person for you. You are destined for someone who can make you happier. Not just some crush you develop out of physical looks.” He sighed softly and the studio was quiet.

The dry air only got disrupted when they heard a bell. That bell was usually the signal when there is a massive likes received from the online streaming. Jaemin gave the latter a warm smile before glancing at the camera. “You all liked Jeno’s answer, didn’t you? You’re a natural.”

Jeno was about to say something to retort back but decided to hold his tongue. The show went on and Jeno seems to be catching up with the show’s gist. Soon, it ended and the team were reading through the comments. Everybody seems to be delighted by the new addition but only one comment still focused on Jaemin. You were not as easily swayed like the other viewers after all.

“She has always been such a loyal fan of Jaemin. We always thought he had a secret girlfriend because of that.” Jaehyun commented as he gave Jaemin a pat on the shoulder.

“It’s always nice to read some of these but I’m already dating someone. You know that, hyung.” Jaemin grinned at the older male.

Jeno just watched their little exchange of affection and proceeded to read more of the comments. He realized that they actually provided good feedback that can help a cupid perform better and he may have secretly jotted some notes.

With the show ending, Jaehyun decided to take Jeno out for some dinner. He took him to one of his favorite Japanese stores. This was the first time Jeno would get to experience food from the human world and he was slightly thrilled for it.

“They’re better cooks here than in the clouds.” Jaehyun said as he pushed the bowl towards the younger’s direction.

“You’re becoming too human yourself, hyung.” Jeno commented which only garnered a cold silence from the older.

“Jeno.”

“Yes?”

“Do you know cupids can fall for humans too? A rare occurrence, however, still plausible.” He smiled as he watched the younger male give him a confused expression.

“Why is this…important to know?” Jeno asked as he waited for a response.

“You may never know when you will be able to encounter that too. This is more of a warning than just a random fact, Jeno. It’s more difficult not to fall in love with a human…plus, we take heartbreaks worse than humans do.”

“You wouldn’t need to warn me because for sure….

… I will never fall in love with a human being.”

The following days, with Jaehyun’s help, Jeno managed to get into the same school as Jaemin did. Jeno insisted that he preferred to just stay at the radio station but Jaehyun insisted otherwise.

As soon as he stepped foot in the school, everybody crowded around him. It was not surprising that the girls who watched the streams religiously would instantly know who he was.

“You must be the popular new kid!” A foreign exchange student who introduced himself as Renjun approached Jeno. Seeing as he was not threatening to maul over him like the other girls, Jeno decided to keep this person close…for protection.

“This school is wild. Back at home, we just studied and that was about it.” Jeno said as he walked down the hallway with Renjun.

“Well you surely got popular here so maybe that’s why.” The smaller boy mentioned as he looked back at the crowd that was following behind them.

“I don’t want popularity. I just wanna do my job in peace.” Jeno sighed softly. He knew Renjun would assume that it was probably the DJ job, but in fact, he could just feel the tingle of wanting to be the cupid that he was bred to be.

Deep in thought, he failed to notice that he was walking straight into a person. You too had no idea that there were a pair of people walking towards your way since you were so focused on the fanfic you were reading about Jaemin and an original character made by one of your friends.

Being clumsy, you felt yourself being pushed back when you were supported by someone by the waist. When you looked behind you, your whole body froze. You were suddenly in Jaemin’s arms, even if his eyes were far off from you.

“Jeno, you should be careful around the hallways. You end up hitting angels off guard.” Jaemin chuckled as he watched Jeno rubbing his rib where your forehead hit.

“What angel? She was the one who wasn’t looking in front of her.” Jeno glanced at you and even if he was right, you did not want him to be.

“As a guy, you should be the one more careful.” You argued with him, almost forgetting the fact that Jaemin was just right behind you and that he even called you an angel.

“This…is exactly why you’re single.” Jeno sighed and walked off with Renjun trailing behind him.

You huffed loudly at his remarks. Who was he to say that and how would he even know that? You were about to follow about this complete stranger to tell him off when you realized that Jaemin was just watching you with a crooked smile on his face.

“T-thank you for catching me.” You quickly bowed towards him, keeping your head low to avoid further embarrassment.

“No biggie. Sorry, on behalf of Jeno. He can be a bit gruff sometimes…” Jaemin smiled before waving off and heading to another direction.

You could feel your heart thumping hard against your chest. Despite your possible new hate for the new boy, he got you the chance to be able to talk to Jaemin. Now, he probably knows you exist.

The week has gone by and Jeno just got more popular. This was not something he actually enjoyed. Most of his time in school is now spent in him hiding from people whenever he could. It just so happened that when you got to the rooftop of the school to practice on your sketches, he literally held a mop in front of you in defense position.

“Why are you following me?”

“Get a life. You are not my type.” You rolled your eyes at him and went towards your usual spot in the rooftop.

He just watched you with his eyes as he kept a reasonable distance away from you. He just wanted his solemnity and if he had to get it with you at the farthest side, he would take it without any hesitation.

The two of you had a very strange atmosphere. It was a little bit heavy at first but soon, you both forgot one another’s presence and just went by like you were usually accustomed to.

“You know he’s not gonna like you.” Jeno suddenly murmured as he peeked over your shoulder just to see you sketching Jaemin’s side profile.

You were about to flip your sketchbook when you heard his voice but you did not want to throw you art away. When he gave you a confused expression, you decided just to inch away from him.

“Did nobody teach you that it’s rude just to come up behind people?” Your brows were knitted together and he just shrugged.

“Doesn’t change the fact that he’s not gonna like you.” Jeno said as he took a seat a few spaces away from you.

“How would you know?”

“I know.”

“Did he tell you something?” You suddenly turned your attention to him and hr he just shook his head.

“If he didn’t tell you anything, then how would you surely know?” You frowned at his words and closed your sketchbook, getting ready to leave.

“He’s not the one for you.” He simply replied while looking up at the blue skies that hanged over your head.

You stared at him. You expected a harsh insult from him but what he said was more deep than you expected. “How does a person even know if one person is for and not for them?” You asked back in a calmer boy and he just glanced at you.

“Well, it’s fate as you people claim. Sometimes fate goes against your perception but it gifts you with something better.” He said as his attention went back to thye skies.

“You act like you know so much.” You mumbled before looking up at the sky with him. “How can you be both mean and full of wisdom at the same time?” You said blatantly which caught him a bit off guard.

“I’m not mean.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Being honest isn’t being mean.”

“Sometimes, you need to know when you have to hold your tongue and not speak or else you would end up hurting someone.” You told him as you hugged your sketchbook close to your chest.

“I’m not hurting anyone. In fact, I am saving you the time by telling you not to pursue Jaemin when he isn’t destined for you.”

“What are you? Some sort of cupid to dictate how my love life ends up like?” You snickered at him.

“You can say that.” A small smirk tugged on the corner of his lips as he heard your remark.

In your opinion, Jeno could be obnoxious sometimes but he can also be quite attractive. No wonder why he has such a lot of girls fawning over him. Yet, he never seemed to enjoy the attention.

“Are you..gay?” You suddenly asked which made him raise a brow at you.

“If you were hoping for a yes then I am sorry to break it to you, but I am not.”

“Then why do you keep rejecting the girls that keep asking you out? Are none of them the one destined for you?” You asked with the same tone he used on you earlier.

“I’m just not interested.”

“How are you not interested but work at a station for love agendas?” You found the idea quite funny but Jeno was indifferent.

“It wasn’t my choice.”

“Was it destiny’s choice?” You playfully said and he just shook his head but you can tell that that made him laugh a bit.

“You’re not so bad, y/n. Apart from you flunking math…” He teased and you could have sworn, this was the only time he had been kind to you.

“Hey! You’re flunking with me too!” You pointed out the truth about you and Jeno being the lowest in class consecutively.

“I don’t need math in my life.” Jeno commented which you actually agreed to.

“Anyway, you’re not so bad too.” You added before the bell rang to signal that it was time to get back to class. “By the way, today is club sign ups. You might want to join one.”

“Which one are you joining?”

“Cooking as always.” You said before he nodded. “See you around, I guess.”

“Yeah.”

Apart from that one incident, you did not have any other chances to get to talk to him. Maybe once was enough, you wondered. You were together in all classes and since you had different surnames, he was seated somewhere far from you. You never got to group up in projects as well since he always teamed up with Renjun and another foreign exchange student named Lucas.

“You keep on looking towards Jeno.” Your friend, Haechan, pointed out as he whispered.

“I do not.” You glared at him before returning to your joined project with him.

“We can make arrangements, you know.” Haechan then approached Renjun and told him something and you can see Jeno slowly approaching you.

“Hey.” He waved as he took Haechan’s spot right besides you.

“What are you doing?”

“Haechan suddenly said Renjun owed him something hence why they’re partners now and I guess, we’re partners now.”

He glanced down at the paper in front of you and nodded. He then opened his book again to go through all the important notes that he has highlighted.

You felt awkward at first. Jeno was not quite the person who did small talk as a partner. What mattered to him was getting the work done before the bell rang and it was not surprising that you had ten minutes to spare with the speed of your work.

Your eyes then found their way to a certain Na Jaemin. You still could not help but sigh dreamily at the sight of him. He was paired up with one of his closest female friends and they seem to have been enjoying their conversation and you could not but feel jealous at it. You knew you had the slightest chance to end up with him but you still hoped regardless.

“Don’t worry. She isn’t meant for him either.” Jeno said as he noticed you, his eyes watching you curiously. “You already know that you two aren’t destined. Why do you keep on fantasizing about him?”

“Look.” You shot him a sharp glare. “You don’t know that yet and I can like whoever I like. You cannot just dictate for someone to stop their feelings towards a person.”

“Fine. Call the station then. Find out for yourself so you can get your feelings sort out.” Jeno crossed his arms and looked at you. You knew he was posing a challenge and you were very much accepting to that. You were not going to let him win this.

On the next broadcast, you decided to take Jeno’s advice. You queued with numerous viewers just so you can get a chance to be chosen for a call. Luckily enough, Jeno just happened to draw your number.

“Hi…I just wanted to ask about something a certain person told me.” Jeno could easily recognize your voice but decided that Jaemin should take this call.

“Oh sure. What is It about?” Jaemin said with his usual warm voice.

You could feel your voice hitch but decided not to let it show. “Well, someone told me that I was not meant for this guy I like. That even if I like them a lot, that I shouldn’t try because there’s someone else out there better for me.” You began speaking.

You could see a small smile tug on the corner of Jeno’s lips.You were about to snicker but kept in mind that Jaemin was just on the other line. “Do you think he’s right?”

“Well from the sounds of it, I think he likes you. The guy who said that I mean.” Jaemin laughed and you could see the distort on his face.

“What-“ Even Jeno seemed surprised to the viewers who were watching.

“Well, what do you think, Jeno?”

“I think he’s just being honest to her. Isn’t that a good thing?” Jeno leaned back against his chair as he listed to Jaemin.

“Well, that could be, or he could selfishly want her attention on him too. There are two sides to a coin.” Jaemin gave him a cheeky grin and the comments streamed by the chat fast adoring his answer.

For the first time, Jeno did not know how to respond to it. He always had one view of how he acted and to bring such thinking that humans tend to be that selfish took him by surprise. The show ended with him still pondering about Jaemin’s perspective and also how you could have possibly reacted.

It did not once cross your mind that Jeno could have liked you since he always seemed to just be a normal classmate to you. You could not deny that what Jaemin said stirred a little interest in you. What kind of possibility would it be to have Jeno like you?

The following day was calmer for Jeno. After having to hear his response, most of Jeno’s fangirls started fawning over Jaemin instead. Not that Jaemin minded or anything. Jeno was finally able to go around the school without having any intentions on actually just hiding away.

He sat under the shade of an old tree as he closed his eyes to take a short nap. It was until he heard your voice from the distance talking to the few friends you had. He could see how you were in the middle of the trio which he assumed meant that you were the bridge of the friendship. You laughed heartily with them and he could compare your aura to that of the sun. Yet, why would you want to lose all that for someone who would just bring in darkness for you? Maybe that was why he kept on telling you that Jaemin just isn’t the one for you.

“Jeno’s watching you.” One of your friends mentioned.

You turned your head towards the direction they were looking at and they were right about him having his eyes on you. You turned away from them and took a deep breathe.

“Do you think Jaemin is right…?”

“Possibly but I thought Jeno wasn’t into girls, that’s why he rarely asked anyone out…or more like he never.” Your other friend nodded.

“Well he said he wasn’t gay either.” You mentioned at the memory of your past conversation. “Maybe it just so happened that Jaemin didn’t know his co-host said it. He would have probably had a different opinion if he did.” Your friends agreed with one another and just nodded your head.

Jeno surely was mysterious. No action from him can be consistent apart from how blunt he was when it came to people’s emotion. Sometimes, you even doubt if he was human as well. However, you did know for a fact that curiosity kills the cat. If you were too curious about him, that would probably cause problems to arise.

Days would pass and you would line up the station regularly to take part in the queuing, That one chance you got to talk to Jaemin was enough to fuel you to try and get to talk to him again. You and Jeno would avoid one another casually but with the twist of fate, you were now always paired up together by your teachers.

“You two make such a great pair.” The teachers would comment as your work would always earn the highest grades in class. This brought teasing from your classmates saying that you two should probably date.

This would actually cause you to get a little flustered. Not only did you dislike it being with Jeno, but the fact that Jaemin was one of the many who teased you both just panged your heart.

Jeno was also confused why you two were being teased to one another. He never showed any common signs human do when they develop interest. He was starting to feel that he knew less of what he actually already knew about. He knew that the best way he could do so is by asking someone but he also got the hint that it would be too weird to just randomly ask a person how they developed feelings.

He glanced at you as you continued jotting down notes for your pair work. Maybe he could trade information for an offer you could not reject. So he decided to ask you when you two conveniently found one another at the rooftop of the school.

“I wanna know more about how people think regarding love. This is for our station and I thought you could help.” He began as you leaned against the steel barricades of the roof.

“Why would I do that…? That would be exceptionally weird.” You said as you thought about how people would stir things up again once they see you together.

“I’d let you come to the station to watch us live.” He said blankly which made your eyes instantly light up

“Really? Before the show starts and when it starts?” You clasped your fingers together and jerked forward to look up at him.

“Yeah, sure. Only on Fridays though…” He said and you quickly nodded your head.

You knew that you had to meet him every day of the week and only got to see Jaemin once but it was a good deal for your end.

Every day, Jeno and you would head to the library to discuss and then you would take him out to the small shops in the street so he can observe the topics you would have taught him. He seems to have been taking it seriously because he was jotting down notes for each lesson. You got to know him as well and you with him. You found that through Jeno’s cold exterior, he had a unique kindness to him. He always offered for you to go first and if he always had let you choose what snacks to buy when you had your study lessons.

Plus, he kept his word and brought you to the studio every Friday. You would watch him get in the booth with Jaemin and them proceed with the show. You sat next to Jaehyun who was just observing you.

“Are you good friends with Jeno, dear?”

“Oh…I guess…I give him lessons after school.” You gave him a shy smile before looking back at the two.

“I see.” Jaehyun knew that Jeno was the brightest of his batch so why would he ask for lessons from someone when he is fully capable of learning on his own. “Are you perhaps interested in him..?”

“Oh no…”You shook your head and laughed softly. “I can��t be. I am more interested in the other host.” You mumbled as you glanced at Jaemin but his eyes were on Jeno which made your eyes travel towards him too.

Jeno caught glimpse of you looking at him but he quickly looked back to Jaemin and noded to whatever he had been discussing about. Jeno has gotten more comfortable now with the show. Was it because of your help? You wanted to take credit for that but you were just not completely sure if you should.

“He seems to have gotten more cheerful. I might have to thank you for that.” Jaehyun spoke as if he had been reading through your mind.

“What do you mean…?”

“You can say that Jeno isn’t that friendly…or wasn’t. In his old school, he always topped everything but nobody wanted to be friends with an overachiever. Hence why he turned away from…everyone. So seeing how he has a friend like you, maybe that’s what made him break through his cold self as well.”

As you listened, you took a glance at Jeno. That explained why he was so mean before. You did notice that he was nice once people got close enough to him. You smiled at that thought that he finally had friends around him.

“Please take care of him, okay?”

“O-okay..” You did not understand the reason for the talk so you just responded in the way you could best muster up.

The following days, you two just proceeded with the usual schedule. You two had voluntarily paired up now for activities being the two most academically intelligent students, that is. Some people would bring up questions If you two were dating and you would just continuously reject it.

You would catch Jeno watching you sometimes but he then looks off to somewhere else. You couldn’t deny that Jeno was indeed attractive, you wouldn’t even question anyone who would like him since he does have a good personality after all.

However, a part of you warned you not to get any attachments from him. Considering that the main reason you two even hanged out was because of Jaemin. You had hoped that this could bring you two closer even if that meant having Jeno as the bridge.

But it did feel bad considering that Jeno has already reached the close friend status with you.

You were in Jeno’s flat. He apparently lived alone but was being funded by his uncle. He was sprawled all over the carpet while you were on the couch. The two of you were writing a paper about the psychology of a person and it was due on the day to follow. You would glance at him as his eyes remained stuck on the pages of the book he borrow at the library.

He would look at you whenever he felt your eyes on him and would ask if you wanted something. He would instantly get some snacks from the kitchen without waiting for you to respond. You were getting a bit confused on what you were feeling towards the said boy. He was in general, a mystery.

Jeno could not deny the fact that it was as confusing as it was for you with him. He was wondering why he was so comfortable even with your presence. Somehow, even more comfortable when he was with Renjun. There were more confusing moments for him when he would feel an increase in the pace of his heartbeats whenever you would accidentally fall asleep against his shoulder. He would reconsider going to school the next day, thinking he caught some disease and might worsen it if he overexerted himself, but it was never the case.

When he did try to confide about this with Renjun, he would just say that maybe Jeno was developing feelings for you which he found quite impossible. Cupids are not meant to develop feelings for humans or else, there will be a designated punishment for them.

He recalled that one conversation he had with Jaehyun where he asked why he was feeling these strange things whenever he was with you and Jaehyun would just give him a knowing smile. His answer was simple and that had let Jeno hinder any other humanly feelings to reside in him.

If you fall in love with a human, you’ll be punished by being revoked the title of being a cupid.

He glanced back at you. Pondering of the chances that he may be developing feelings for you. Was he willing to give up everything he really wanted? He knew that he wasn’t. Just the same as you would for Jaemin.

One Thursday evening, you were supposed to have a study session with Jeno but he said that he had to pick something up from the studio first. To save time, you had insisted to just go along with him. As you got into the studio, it was different from usual. It was normally well lit and the cold air from the airconditioning system would be blasting. However, since today had no particular schedules, it was empty.

As you two went inside the studio, you came across a sight you had never expected nor wanted to see. Jaemin had his hands cupped on one of the staff’s cheeks and was pressing gentle kisses on her lips. You could feel your head getting heavy from the sight. It was painful but not to the extent that you had imagined it, Jeno was also in shock by it. He knew Jaemin was dating someone but never thought that he’d get to see it. He glanced at you, worried at how your expression had seem to darken. What was he supposed to do..?

Before Jaemin could notice you both, Jeno had already pulled you into an embrace, his head tilting back and his own lips being pressed against your own. Your eyes widened in surprise but he had covered you enough so that when Jaemin turned to your general view, he can only see Jeno kissing you.

You felt your heartbeat rise at the surreal feeling of his lips on your own. It momentarily made you forget about what you had just seen. The kiss lasted only for a few seconds before Jeno pulled away and Jaemin went inside to greet you both.

“Hey, lovebirds. Finally started dating for real, huh?” Jaemin teased as he had his hands clasped on that of his significant other.

“Yeah.” Jeno replied quietly as he tried to avoid looking at you.

“Don’t seem so tensed. I’ll keep it a secret.” Jaemin winked before waving off and leaving with his partner.

Now, it was the moment of truth. Jeno had to turn back to look at you, not sure how you would react. He also wondered why he did it. He knew that his original intention was just to protect you from getting seen hurt by Jaemin but a part of him said that he did it for a different reason. As he turned to look at you, he was surprised by the look you had on your face.

It wasn’t the same pained expression from earlier but confusion was written all over it. He knew he had to somehow explain the reason for why he did it but he couldn’t bring the words to do so. He just looked away and you two kept quiet until you had left the studio and had your study session canceled. He still volunteered to take you home but the walk all the way to your house was just very uneasy. He did not necessarily said goodbye and neither did you. You both probably needed to be alone with your thoughts for now.

The following days in school, a lot of your classmates noticed how you two would barely talk to one another. Jeno would not even spare you a glance. His attention always seemed to have been glued to whatever he was watching outside the window. You wanted to ask him if that kiss meant something or was it just to hide you away from Jaemin that day. Deep inside, you were actually scared of the answer.

Jeno was not having the best time either. With what had concided and his most recent talk with Jaehyun, he knew that he had developed feelings for you. Scared of it would be the best description. He knew how much he wanted to just feel your presence again next to him but he still did not want to lose his title as a cupid. Diving deeper into the punishment, Jaehyun had explained that his wings will get cut off as well. The same way his were when he fell in love with a human. The only way he got to be a cupid again was to continuously serve their world as a teacher until his passing.

Would Jeno be willing to sacrifice that much for you?

Why would he do that when he was not sure of how you felt for him?

The following days remained the same and you both wanted to deny the fact that you missed one another. The viewers seem to have noticed how Jeno seemed very distracted as well. Jaemin would take small chances to ask him what was happening during breaks but Jeno preferred not to talk about it, He kept it all to himself the same way you did.

Days and days passed and still nothing. The school had announced that it will be holding a dance and that partners were not required but encouraged. Jaehyun was one of the sponsors for the event because he claimed that it was something he could do for his two DJs as a token of gratitude.

Jeno would stay at the rooftop to hide away from the female population who wanted him to take them out when he really just wanted one person to go with him. As if right on cue, you entered the rooftop with your books, not wanting to be a part of the commotion with people asking others to be their partners. When you both laid eyes on one another, a part of you wanted to run away but another part of you wanted to run to him and just hug him. You remained stuck in place as if no one wanted to end the moment despite being just what it was. A few distances away from one another, nothing more, nothing less.

It was consuming Jeno more than it probably did for you. He was not human after all and all these emotions were more raw for him than it was for you. As if on instinct, he stood up and went towards you. Cheeks held against his big warm hands, he leaned in to seal your lips with his. You lost grasps of your books as your hands found themselves against his wrists. You wanted this as well but never wanted to admit it.

Jeno knew. He finally knew what he was willing to give up. Everything he had learned from his world, everything he used to aspire to be, those were all nothing to him if you were not a part of his world. He would give up being a cupid if it meant being with you.

During the dance, it was a pleasant surprise for everyone to see you two come in together hand in hand after the long days you two ignored one another. Jaemin lifted his glass towards both of you, happy to see that everything worked out after all. You still did not know Jeno is a cupid, or was one. He had to face his punishment for falling in love with you and that was to be stuck in the human world until a specific time. He would then be given a chance to appeal to the court of cupids to regain his status. Yet, he had confirmed to them that he would prefer to stay as what he is now. A human.

Jaehyun watched as you both danced under the intricate designs of dangling heart streamers. He smiled as he watched Jeno with his eyes smiling with whatever you just had told him before he twirled you. “You were never meant to be a cupid, Jeno. You were meant to be matched to your soulmate.” Jaehyun sighed softly before leaving the scene.

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