#When Destiny Comes Knocking

[sterkeyra]

Voltage - Side Character Election 2024 Results

Voltage hosted Side Character Elections over the last few weeks. You were able to vote for your favorite side characters of plenty titles. There was a Part1 (Kyobashis father won!!) that decided on merch for the side characters and this Part2 enabled for the Top10 to get stories for themselves!

1st place gets a longer special story (would have gotten a CG they got 1.5 million votes :') Rip we missed out)

2nd and 3rd get a special story

4-5th get short special stories

6-10th will get mini episodes

Anyways here's the Top10:

**[Koi100] Side Character Election results!** These 10 side characters will receive stories.

1st will get a longer special story 2nd & 3rd will get a special story 4-5th will get a short story 6-10th will get an episode

1st place: Takeru Momose (HLITF) 2nd place: Hayato Miyayama (HLITF) 3rd place: Toru Kyobashi (Kyobashis dad) (MPD) 4th place: Daisuke Chiba (HLITF) 5th place: Mitsuharu Kyogoku (RMD) 6th place: Ryosuke Inui (KBTBB) 7th place: Zach Thompson (MK) 8th place: Jinguji Sonpoku (WDCK) 9th place: Daisuke Agasa (MPD) 10th place: Eito Ichinomiya (KBTBB)

You can find their votes below and the rest of the rankings! There were very interesting prompts for each character - some felt like fanfiction, a bit trolling or interesting character depth 👀

Momo finally gets a story and it's about falling for him instead of Tsugaru 🙈 I wonder how they'll handle his GF ahh. Still i'm so happy! The rest of the Top10 is promising too. Finally Jinguji, Mitsuharu, CHIBA, and Miyayama!! Its so funny how they even had Furuya and Tomohiro and offered a redemption arc for them 🙈 Blood Moon and Kasatsubaki sounded like the actual plot of what their routes would have been like if they wouldnt have gotten cancelled. I wish they were ranked higher!

Also Chaen! Would have been an interesting yandere story. We'd need an animal mascot or villain election!

I also don't get why Plusts manager or overall got so few votes. It hurts 🥲

[voltageapps]

November 11 is the birthday of Shintaro Ando from When Destiny Comes Knocking 🎈

Happy birthday Shintaro!

[bikananjarrus]

oh binary sunset force theme we're really in it now

[inbabylontheywept]

i once accidentally dated someone for a few months. its very difficult to explain how this happened, but the gist is that i thought we were hanging out, and she thought we were on dates, and it was just a very painfully highschool thing.

she was a little bit confused that i hadnt tried to pull any moves, at all, even a little. like, didnt even try holding hands because, and i cannot emphasize this enough, i did not know we were dating.

so, halloween rolled around, and she thought, you know, why wait for destiny, when you can grab it? so she hit me with a clue by four.

babylon, she said. babylon. my mom's gonna be out of town on halloween, and im gonna have the house to myself, and it's going to be kind of lonely. would you like to come to my house and watch scary movies with me?

you know, kind of a netflix and chill thing. except, and i cannot emphasize this enough, i did not know we were dating. also autism. so i took it at face value and said: oh! yeah! thatd be fun! and she thought she got her point across, but she didnt and it was a mess.

skip forward to halloween: my family has a block party every year, right? and at that point i was too old to really trick or treat, but we still wore costumes for our role in the block party, which in my case, was handing out cotton candy. so i took the first shift, and my costume was this homemade abomination minion thing. i had full yellow body paint, and goggles, and a bald cap, and overalls. the kids who saw it were like, uh, hm. overly realistic minion. and adults were like, oh, some kind of hills have eyes hillbilly with jaundice. very scary.

(it was not my best costume.)

my little brother swapped me out for second shift, and i was getting ready to change out to head to her house when i was like: no, she'll get a real kick out of this. this is one of the worst things i have ever worn. so i kept it on and just brought a change of clothes thinking i could shower real quick and change at her place after she saw my nightmare getup.

so i left after that, got there, knocked on her door, and she said come on in. so i went in, and there was this very long hall with an abrupt right turn into her living room where the tv was, and i went down the hall, and i made the turn, and my field of view went from beige drywal to her, on the couch, naked. naked in the paint me like one of your french girls pose. super naked.

i panicked. this was my first time seeing a real person like, full on sex naked,which is a totally different beast from other kinds of naked. you see one kind of naked and you think yeah, im ready for all the kinds of naked, but you arent. i wasnt at least. i really wasn't.

so my brain crashed to BIOS. she also crashed to BIOS, but for different reasons. of all the ways this could have turned me, having me show up in yellow body paint and overalls was pretty pretty low down the list.

so we sat there a while, and you know, she wasn't getting any less naked, which really wasn't helping me get my brain sorted out. it really wasnt much of a surprise when she got her bearings first and started asking questions.

"babylon," she said. "babylon. what are you wearing?"

and i was like, kind of rebooted, but i was nowhere near full functionality, so symbolic language wasnt loaded in yet. i had nothing running but my trusty autism.exe, so i said

"overalls"

and she looked at me like i was the dumbest person in the entire world, and i looked at her like she was the first naked person i had seen in real life who got naked specifically for me, and my upper level cognitive process went: "listen man, we are not going to get our shit together as long as 80% of your brain power is devoted to not blinking. you gotta get out of here."

and if id communicated that, maybe things would have been less of a mess, but instead i just kind of turned around and walked back to my car. i figured i could drive a few loops around the block, get my brain in order, and figure out what the hell we were gonna do.

the only thing i had said to her since arriving was, again, overalls.

first loop around, i was like: oh god fucking damnit. oh shit. oh shit. shes gonna get like, an eating disorder from this. oh no.

second loop around i was like: oh NOOOOO oh WHAT THE FUCK oh SWEET JESUS PLEASE. i dont wanna go back man. i just wanna bury this and forget about it. please. please. let this bitter cup pass from my lips.

and after my third loop, i went and i knocked on her door again.

she answered it this time, and i counted my lucky stars that she'd changed into some pajamas. she was all teary eyed which was the saddest thing ever, and we sat down in her kitchen and talked. it was pretty bad - i figured out we'd been dating, and she figured out that trying to jump from home plate to 3rd base is considered ballsy in baseball, least of all dating. no real winners there. and i can remember after all that, we sat there a bit a bit longer, just steadying ourselves, and i was like "well, im actually really glad we figured that out. guess i'll see you at school tomorow' and she said "WAIT. wait."

"lets watch shrek 2."

so we did and it was horrible. we did not look at each other. we did not say a word. we just sat in stony silence, while shrek 2 played in the background, and when it was done we shook hands. i think we might have been able to salvage that as a friendship if it hadnt been for shrek. as it was she turned white as a sheet and ran away every time she even got a glimpse of me at school, and that summer she moved to a new state to live with her dad. all her friends said she moved just so she wouldn't have to go to school with me anymore, and i dont actually think they were lying.

every time i hear relationship counselors talk about how important communication is, and i'm tempted to roll my eyes, i look back and go, alright. alright. theres probably some poor bastard, somewhere in the world, who doesnt even know that hes married.

and god help him when he figures it out.

other bad dating story here.

[ijustmissyouraccenths]

It’s You

Where Y/N’s chaotic energy clashes with her grumpy, tattooed neighbor, her mission to get on his good side turns into stolen glances, quiet moments, and a connection she never expected.

Au Harry

Word count: 13,395

Content warning: Cursing, smut, alcohol.

The warm glow of string lights illuminated Y/N’s cozy Los Angeles apartment as the sound of laughter filled the air. The small space was a mix of bohemian chic and personal touches—a gallery wall of polaroids, a cluttered coffee table covered with open bags of snacks, and a few empty wine bottles standing like trophies from their earlier indulgence.

Y/N flopped back onto the couch, a glass of red wine in hand, her cheeks flushed from both the alcohol and nonstop giggling. Her two best friends, Harper and Lila, sat cross-legged on the floor, snacking on popcorn and chips, fully embracing the childlike joy of their adult sleepover.

“This feels so right,” Y/N said, her voice slightly tipsy. “Why don’t we do this more often?”

“Because we’re responsible adults now, remember?” Harper teased, adjusting her oversized hoodie. “Nine-to-five, bills, and pretending we know what we’re doing.”

“Speak for yourself,” Lila quipped, popping a gummy bear into her mouth. “I’m thriving in my chaos era.”

Y/N snorted, and Harper rolled her eyes with an affectionate grin. Lila was the wild card of the group, always coming up with unpredictable ideas. And she didn’t disappoint tonight.

“You know what we should do?” Lila suddenly said, sitting up straighter. “Karaoke.”

“Yes!” Harper exclaimed, clapping her hands. “Oh my God, yes. Do you still have that mic we bought for New Year’s Eve?”

Y/N groaned dramatically, but her smile betrayed her fake reluctance. “You mean the mic that nearly got us evicted? Of course, I still have it.”

Lila grinned wickedly. “Perfect. Let’s wake up the entire building with our stunning renditions of 2000s throwbacks.”

Without waiting for further approval, Lila dashed to the hall closet and pulled out the karaoke mic, triumphantly waving it in the air. Harper grabbed her phone, already scrolling through a playlist.

“You’re starting,” Harper declared, pointing the mic at Y/N.

“What? No!” Y/N laughed, holding her hands up defensively. “I’m not ready!”

“Too bad,” Lila said, shoving the mic into Y/N’s hands. “You can’t escape destiny. Pick your song.”

Y/N sighed theatrically before smirking. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you when your ears bleed.”

As Y/N queued up Since U Been Gone by Kelly Clarkson, the room erupted in cheers. The first few notes played, and soon enough, Y/N was belting out the lyrics with unrestrained enthusiasm, her friends joining in for the chorus. It didn’t matter that they were slightly off-key; in that moment, they were superstars in their own private concert.

Wine glasses were forgotten, snacks spilled, and every lyric was sung at full volume. It was the kind of night they’d remember for years—a reminder that no matter how grown-up they pretended to be, some things never lost their magic.

The girls were in full swing, harmonizing (poorly) to “I Want It That Way” by the Backstreet Boys. Lila stood on the couch holding the mic as if she were performing at Madison Square Garden, while Harper played air guitar with a half-empty wine bottle. Y/N was doubled over in laughter, her cheeks aching from smiling so much.

Just as they hit the iconic, “Tell me why—” part, a loud knock echoed through the apartment, cutting through their drunken fun like a record scratch. The girls froze, their voices trailing off mid-note. Y/N straightened up, exchanging wide-eyed looks with Harper and Lila.

“Uh… did someone order pizza?” Lila whispered, her voice unsure.

“Nope,” Y/N said, setting her wine glass on the coffee table. “Stay here. I’ll get it.”

With a mix of nerves and annoyance, Y/N padded to the door. She peered through the peephole and groaned. It was her new neighbor, Harry. She’d only exchanged a polite “hello” with him in passing, but he’d already struck her as the brooding, grumpy type.

Bracing herself, she opened the door.

There he stood: tall, disheveled hair pushed back in a lazy attempt at taming it, wearing a faded gray hoodie and black joggers. His sharp green eyes narrowed as he took in her flushed face and the muffled chaos behind her.

“Good evening,” he started, his British accent dripping with sarcasm. “I just wanted to say how much I’ve been enjoying your concert tonight. It’s like living next door to a live music venue. Only… worse.”

Y/N blinked, momentarily stunned by his dry humor. “Oh. Uh, sorry about that. We didn’t realize how loud we were being.”

Harry crossed his arms, leaning casually against the doorframe. “I figured. Thought I’d come over before I lost the ability to hear entirely.”

From behind her, Lila’s voice chimed in drunkenly. “Is it a noise complaint? Tell him to sing with us!”

Y/N turned and shot Lila a glare. Harper muffled a laugh.

Y/N sighed and looked back at Harry. “We’ll keep it down. Promise.”

He tilted his head, lips twitching into the faintest smirk, though his tone remained gruff. “Appreciated. Just… try not to turn it into a full-on festival.”

With that, he turned to leave, but Y/N couldn’t help herself. “You know, you could’ve just sent a passive-aggressive text or something.”

Harry glanced back over his shoulder, one brow arched. “I thought this had more impact.”

And then he was gone.

Y/N closed the door, leaning her forehead against it for a moment. When she turned around, Lila and Harper were staring at her like she’d just walked off the set of a rom-com.

“Um, who was that?” Lila asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Harry. My new neighbor,” Y/N replied, walking back to the couch.

“And Mr. Grumpy Pants is cute,” Harper added, grinning.

Y/N rolled her eyes, picking up her wine glass. “Yeah, yeah. He’s cute and cranky. Now can we please move on before you two start planning a love story?”

But the mischievous glint in her friends’ eyes told her they weren’t letting this go anytime soon.

The karaoke mic had been put away, and the girls now lounged in the cozy living room, passing a bottle of wine between them. The earlier buzz of excitement had mellowed, but the energy was still warm and lively. Lila was sprawled on the couch with her legs dangling over Harper’s lap, while Y/N sat cross-legged on the floor, sipping from her glass.

“I mean, let’s just talk about him for a second,” Lila began, her voice dramatic. “The mopey neighbor with the accent? And did you see those tattoos? They were peeking out, Y/N. He’s giving mysterious bad boy energy.”

Y/N groaned, her cheeks warming instantly. “Oh my God, Lila. He was literally just here to tell us to shut up.”

“Doesn’t mean he’s not hot,” Harper chimed in, grinning. “He has that whole ‘I’m grumpy but secretly charming’ vibe. Like, did you see the way he smirked when he made that little joke?”

Y/N tried to hide her flustered reaction by taking another sip of wine, but she couldn’t stop the blush creeping up her neck. She’d noticed too—his smirk, his sharp jawline, the tattoos curling up his forearm, just barely visible under his hoodie sleeves. She’d noticed everything.

“I mean, he’s okay, I guess,” Y/N mumbled, keeping her tone nonchalant.

“Okay?” Lila shot up, nearly spilling her wine. “You’re lying. You’re the worst liar ever.”

“Shut up,” Y/N said, laughing as she buried her face in her hands. “Fine, he’s cute. So what? He’s also my neighbor, and he’s probably annoyed with me forever now.”

“He’s not annoyed,” Harper said, nudging her with her foot. “If he were, he wouldn’t have made the effort to come over himself. He would’ve sent an email to management or something. He wanted an excuse to see you.”

“Right,” Y/N said, rolling her eyes. “Because nothing’s more attractive than a drunk girl singing Backstreet Boys at full volume.”

“Exactly!” Lila exclaimed, throwing her arms in the air. “You’re memorable. He’ll never forget you now.”

Y/N shook her head, laughing despite herself. “You two are ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” Harper said, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “But I bet he thinks you’re cute too.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed deeper, and she quickly changed the subject. But as the night went on, she couldn’t shake the image of Harry standing in her doorway, his messy hair, his smirk, and those tattoos. Maybe her friends weren’t entirely wrong.

The morning sunlight filtered through the blinds of Y/N’s apartment, illuminating the chaos left behind from the night before. Wine glasses, half-eaten snacks, and the abandoned karaoke mic were scattered around the living room. The girls were tangled up in blankets, sprawled across the couch and the floor like a scene from a sitcom.

Y/N was the first to stir, groaning as she rubbed her eyes and sat up. Harper was curled up on the couch with a throw pillow over her head, while Lila lay on the floor in a makeshift nest of cushions, one arm dramatically draped over her face.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Y/N teased, nudging Lila with her foot.

Lila groaned. “Why are you awake? It’s illegal to be this alive right now.”

Harper peeked out from under her pillow, her voice muffled. “What time is it? Do we even have the energy to exist today?”

“Barely,” Y/N replied, standing and stretching. “But I’m starving, so I’m making breakfast. Come help me.”

Harper and Lila grumbled but eventually dragged themselves up and into the kitchen, where Y/N was already cracking eggs into a bowl. Together, they whipped up a chaotic but delicious breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast, bacon, and a mountain of coffee.

The girls sat around the small dining table, eating in comfortable silence at first. Then Lila broke the quiet with a wicked grin.

“So… Harry.”

“Oh my God,” Y/N groaned, covering her face. “Not again.”

“Listen, I was just thinking,” Lila said, smirking. “Next time we do this, we should make it even louder. Really make him come back over.”

Harper snorted into her coffee. “Yes! Like, full-blown karaoke night but with amps and disco lights.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t stop the smile tugging at her lips. “You two are the worst.”

“But you love us,” Harper said, nudging her with an elbow.

After breakfast, the girls cleaned up and packed their things before heading out. Harper hugged Y/N tightly. “We definitely need to do this again.”

Lila nodded enthusiastically. “Louder next time. You know, for research purposes.”

Y/N shook her head, laughing as she walked them to the door. “You’re both insane, but I love you. Drive safe.”

Once they were gone, Y/N flopped onto the couch and opened their group chat. Almost immediately, messages started flooding in.

Lila: Next sleepover, let’s bring a fog machine. If Harry shows up, we’ll just act like it’s a concert.

Harper: Or we could rent a spotlight. Make it an event

Y/N: You guys are unbelievable. No more wine for you next time.

Lila: Admit it, you want him to show up again.

Y/N: …maybe.

Harper: KNEW IT.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at her phone, her cheeks warming yet again. As ridiculous as her friends were, they weren’t entirely wrong.

The day passed in a blur of cleaning and tidying as Y/N tried to get her apartment back to its usual organized state. By the time the sun started to dip low in the sky, the chaos from the night before had been erased, leaving her apartment looking like a picture of calm domesticity. Feeling accomplished, Y/N decided to check her mailbox before settling in for a quiet evening.

She padded down to the mailroom in her building, dressed in a casual but presentable outfit—high-waisted jeans and a simple white top. As she rifled through the usual junk mail and a couple of bills, the sound of someone entering the room caught her attention.

Glancing to the side, she saw Harry walking in, his hoodie replaced by a fitted black t-shirt and dark jeans. His tattoos were on full display now—intricate designs that wound up his forearm and disappeared under the sleeve of his shirt. He barely glanced at her as he moved to his mailbox, unlocking it with practiced ease.

Y/N swallowed her nerves and decided to seize the moment. It was better to make a proper introduction now than to let the awkwardness from last night linger. Turning slightly toward him, she cleared her throat.

“Hey, neighbor,” she began, keeping her tone light. “Figured I should introduce myself officially now that I’m not, you know, half-drunk and screaming karaoke at midnight. I’m Y/N.”

Harry turned his head, his green eyes locking onto hers. His expression was neutral, almost unreadable, as he gave her a quick once-over. “Harry,” he said simply, his voice low and clipped.

Y/N bit back a grin, determined not to let his gruff demeanor throw her off. “Nice to meet you, Harry. Sorry again about last night. I promise we don’t usually host impromptu concerts. Unless, of course, you’re a fan of boy band throwbacks.”

Harry let out a soft exhale that could’ve been a laugh—or just a sigh. “I’ll survive.”

Encouraged by the hint of amusement, Y/N decided to keep the conversation going. “You know, if you’re ever feeling nostalgic, you’re welcome to join us. We could use a fourth member for our extremely off-key girl group.”

Harry’s lips twitched slightly, but his expression remained mostly stoic. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Y/N tilted her head, giving him a mock-serious look. “You’re really hard to read, you know that? Most people at least chuckle at my jokes.”

Harry glanced at her, his gaze steady and calm. “Maybe I’m just not most people.”

For a moment, Y/N didn’t know how to respond. There was something almost challenging in his tone, but it wasn’t harsh. If anything, it piqued her curiosity even more.

“Well, Harry,” she said finally, flashing him a bright smile. “Challenge accepted. I’ll make you laugh one of these days.”

He didn’t respond right away, instead closing his mailbox and tucking the letters under his arm. As he moved to leave, he paused, looking over his shoulder.

“We’ll see about that.”

And just like that, he was gone, leaving Y/N standing there with her stack of mail and a strange mix of frustration and intrigue swirling in her chest. One thing was for sure—Harry might be grumpy, but he was far from boring.

As soon as Y/N got back to her apartment, she tossed her mail onto the counter and grabbed her phone, already smirking to herself. She opened the group chat with Harper and Lila, her fingers flying across the keyboard.

Y/N:

Guess who I just ran into in the mailroom?

It didn’t take long for her phone to buzz with replies.

Lila:

Was it… oh, I don’t know… Mr. Grumpy Hot Neighbor?

Harper:

Harry! Tell us everything right now.

Y/N rolled her eyes fondly, typing out her reply.

Y/N:

Yes, it was Harry. I introduced myself properly. You know, as a fully functional adult and not a drunken mess.

Lila:

And? Did he swoon? Did he drop all his mail and propose on the spot?

Harper:

Or at least crack a smile?

Y/N sighed and leaned back against the counter, smirking to herself as she typed.

Y/N:

Absolutely not. He was… well, Harry. Polite but distant. He might’ve almost smiled, but I can’t be sure.

Lila:

Ugh, he’s really sticking to the mysterious moody thing. It’s so hot. What did you say to him?

Y/N:

I told him he was hard to read and said I’d make him laugh one day.

Harper:

Bold move, I love it. What did he say?

Y/N:

He said, ‘We’ll see about that.’

Lila:

STOP. That’s basically flirting.

Harper:

Right? That’s flirty! Subtle, broody flirting.

Y/N:

You two are ridiculous. It wasn’t flirting. He’s just… like that.

Lila:

Y/N, this is your rom-com moment, and you’re living in denial. Grumpy guy + sunshine girl is literally a trope for a reason.

Harper:

Exactly. Next step: get him to join us for karaoke.

Y/N:

Oh, sure, because he definitely seems like the kind of guy who wants to sing ‘Toxic’ with us.

Lila:

You never know. Maybe he has a secret karaoke voice that’ll blow us all away.

Y/N laughed to herself, shaking her head. Her friends were relentless, but she couldn’t deny that their enthusiasm made her smile. As much as she tried to brush off the encounter, she couldn’t stop replaying it in her head—the way Harry’s green eyes lingered just a second too long, the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips. 

It had been a couple of weeks since Y/N’s encounter with Harry in the mailroom, and she’d managed to push him to the back of her mind. Between work, friends, and her usual routine, she hadn’t bumped into him in the halls or around the building. Life went on, and the memory of his grumpy smirk became just another amusing anecdote to share with Harper and Lila.

Until one night.

Y/N was jolted awake by the blaring sound of the fire alarm. Disoriented and groggy, she stumbled out of bed and grabbed a sweatshirt, pulling it over her pajama tank top. She shoved her feet into sneakers, grabbed her phone, and headed for the door. The hallway was chaotic, filled with neighbors in various states of sleepiness and confusion, all heading for the exits.

Once outside, Y/N joined the crowd of residents gathering on the sidewalk. The chilly night air bit at her skin, and she crossed her arms to keep warm. She craned her neck, scanning the crowd to see if there was anyone she knew—until her eyes landed on a familiar figure leaning against a lamppost.

It was Harry. His hair was a mess, sticking out in every direction, and he wore a hoodie over loose sweatpants. He looked like he’d just rolled out of bed, which, to be fair, he probably had. His expression was pure exhaustion, and he rubbed the back of his neck as he yawned.

Y/N didn’t hesitate. She made her way over, her footsteps crunching on the gravel. “Hey, neighbor,” she said, coming to a stop next to him.

Harry turned his head, his green eyes narrowing slightly as he registered her. “Y/N,” he said, his voice rough from sleep. “This is… unexpected.” He waved his hand around. 

She grinned, shifting her weight to one foot. “Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. But hey, at least it’s the fire alarms being obnoxiously loud this time and not me.”

Harry’s lips twitched, and for a second, she thought she’d finally gotten him to crack a smile. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?” he asked dryly.

“Never,” Y/N replied, a teasing lilt in her voice. “It’s too good of a story.”

Harry exhaled softly, almost like a laugh, and shook his head. “Fair enough.”

They stood in silence for a moment, watching as a fire truck pulled up and a couple of firefighters headed inside to investigate. The air was crisp and carried a faint chill, but Y/N barely noticed. She glanced at Harry out of the corner of her eye.

“Do you think it’s an actual fire?” she asked.

“Doubt it,” he said, crossing his arms. “Probably just someone burning their midnight snack.”

“Sounds like a riveting Saturday night,” Y/N joked, earning another small exhale from him.

“Tell me about it,” he muttered, glancing down at her. His gaze lingered for a moment, and Y/N could feel her cheeks warm, though she tried to play it cool.

“Well,” she said, rocking back on her heels. “If it turns out to be a drill, I’m demanding a formal apology from management for ruining my beauty sleep.”

Harry’s lips quirked, just enough for her to notice. “I’m sure they’ll get right on that.”

For the first time, standing outside in the middle of the night with Harry didn’t feel awkward or forced. It was easy, natural even, despite his perpetually tired and broody demeanor. Maybe it was the ridiculousness of the situation, or maybe her persistence was finally wearing him down.

Before either of them could say more, a firefighter emerged from the building, shouting to the crowd that it was a false alarm. People groaned, some laughing as they shuffled back toward the entrance.

Harry pushed off the lamppost and looked at Y/N. “Guess that’s our cue.”

“Looks like it,” she said. “Catch you later, Harry.”

He nodded, his expression unreadable but not unkind. “Night, Y/N.”

As she headed back to her apartment, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a small spark of satisfaction. Sure, he was still grumpy, but she was getting closer to breaking through. And honestly, she didn’t mind the challenge.

By the time Y/N woke up the next morning, she had already drafted the text she knew Harper and Lila would demand. Still half-asleep, she grabbed her phone and opened their group chat, typing out the full story in detail.

Y/N:

So… guess who I bumped into at 3 a.m. when the fire alarm went off?

It didn’t take long for her phone to buzz with rapid-fire responses.

Harper:

Oh my God. HARRY?

Lila:

Please tell me you were both standing there in your PJs like the meet-cute of the century.

Y/N:

��No, it wasn’t a meet-cute. We just talked. Very normal. Nothing groundbreaking.

Harper:

What did you talk about?

Y/N:

I made a joke about how this time it wasn’t me being loud, it was the fire alarm.

Lila:

YES. Classic Y/N. What did he say?

Y/N:

He just… smirked. Or sighed. I’m honestly not sure anymore. He’s so hard to read.

Harper:

Smirking counts as flirting. I’m logging it.

Lila:

Definitely flirting. He wouldn’t have smirked if he wasn’t secretly interested. Men don’t waste smirks on people they don’t like.

Y/N:

Or he was just tired and didn’t care enough to argue.

Harper:

Nope. Not buying it. He’s interested. He’s just grumpy interested.

Lila:

Exactly! Brooding types like him don’t wear their feelings on their sleeves, but trust me, he’s intrigued. You just need to keep working on him.

Y/N rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help but smile.

Y/N:

You two are absolutely ridiculous. We talked for five minutes, tops. Nothing more, nothing less.

Harper:

Sure, keep telling yourself that.

Lila:

Face it, Y/N. This is your slow-burn romance, and we are here for it. We’re already planning the playlist for your wedding.

Y/N:

Oh my God. I can’t with you two.

Despite her protests, Y/N couldn’t stop replaying the interaction in her mind—the way his eyes lingered on her, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. Harper and Lila were reading too much into it… weren’t they?

Shaking her head, Y/N tossed her phone onto the couch. She had no intention of indulging their wild theories. But deep down, a small, stubborn part of her couldn’t help but wonder. 

Y/N lay in bed, staring at the faint shadows cast by her bedside lamp on the ceiling. The city sounds outside her window were faint but constant—cars in the distance, the occasional murmur of voices. She’d been tossing and turning for what felt like hours, her brain refusing to shut off.

It didn’t help that every time she closed her eyes, all she could think about was Harry.

It wasn’t intentional, or at least that’s what she told herself. She’d been trying to push him out of her mind all day, but now, in the stillness of the night, his image seemed to surface unbidden. The way his messy hair stuck out when she’d seen him by the mailboxes. The tattoos peeking out from under his shirt sleeves, the intricate designs winding across his arms like a story she desperately wanted to read.

And then there was his face—sharp jawline, green eyes that seemed to pierce through her defenses, and that faint smirk he’d given her last night when she’d cracked her fire alarm joke. It wasn’t a full smile, but it had been enough to spark something in her. Something she couldn’t quite shake.

She groaned, rolling onto her side and burying her face in her pillow. “Get a grip,” she muttered to herself.

But it was no use. She kept thinking about the way his voice sounded—low, calm, almost soothing in its quiet confidence. The way he seemed perpetually unimpressed but not unkind, like he was holding back a part of himself from the world. And the way, despite all that grumpiness, she felt drawn to him.

The worst part was that she barely even knew him. A few brief encounters, a handful of words exchanged—it wasn’t enough to warrant this level of overthinking. And yet, here she was, wide awake at 2 a.m., her thoughts spinning in circles around a guy who probably wasn’t thinking about her at all.

She sighed, flipping onto her back again and staring at the ceiling. “You’re losing it, Y/N,” she whispered into the dark.

But no matter how hard she tried to distract herself—counting sheep, replaying her favorite movie in her head, anything—her mind kept drifting back to Harry. How frustratingly attractive he was. How much she wanted to figure him out. And how, for reasons she couldn’t explain, she kind of liked the challenge.

The next afternoon, Y/N tied her apron around her waist and stepped onto the floor of the bustling Italian restaurant where she worked. The warm scent of garlic, fresh basil, and baking bread filled the air as the sounds of clinking silverware and cheerful conversations hummed around her. It was her favorite kind of shift—steady but not overwhelming, just busy enough to keep her energized.

She loved being a server. There was something satisfying about knowing the menu by heart, from the way the chef perfectly folded the handmade ravioli to the rich, velvety tiramisu that always left customers raving. She enjoyed the rhythm of it all: taking orders, making guests laugh, weaving between tables like she was part of a well-rehearsed dance.

By the time her shift ended, the sun was low in the sky, casting a soft golden glow over the city streets. Y/N slipped her bag over her shoulder, said goodbye to her coworkers, and began her short walk home.

The evening was warm, the kind of weather that made her glad she’d chosen this neighborhood to live in. She liked the convenience of being close to work, the charm of the old brick buildings, and the occasional vendor selling flowers or roasted nuts on the sidewalk.

But as she rounded the last corner toward her apartment building, the sky darkened suddenly. Heavy clouds rolled in overhead, and before she could process what was happening, the first fat drops of rain began to fall.

“Seriously?” Y/N muttered, looking up at the sky as if it might offer her an explanation. Within seconds, the light drizzle turned into a full-on downpour. She didn’t have an umbrella, of course—it had been sunny when she left for work—and now she was too far from the restaurant to go back.

She quickened her pace, pulling her bag closer to her body to shield it from the rain. Her hair was already plastered to her forehead, and her clothes clung to her as the rain soaked through. She groaned in frustration but couldn’t help laughing at the ridiculousness of it all.

By the time her apartment building came into view, she was drenched. She jogged the last stretch, her sneakers splashing in puddles, and darted toward the lobby entrance. As she reached for the door, it opened from the inside—and there, standing in the doorway, was Harry.

Of course, it was Harry.

He was holding a takeout bag in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. His green eyes widened slightly when he saw her, taking in her rain-soaked appearance.

“Rough night?” he asked, his voice dry but laced with faint amusement.

Y/N brushed a wet strand of hair out of her face, shaking water from her arms. “You could say that. Apparently, the weather decided I needed a shower.”

Harry stepped back, holding the door open for her. “You’re dripping everywhere.”

“Thanks for the observation,” Y/N said with a wry smile as she stepped inside, water pooling around her feet. “I hadn’t noticed.”

He smirked, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary before he nodded toward the elevators. “You should probably get upstairs before you flood the lobby.”

“Wow, you’re so thoughtful,” she teased, her sarcasm barely masking the warmth in her voice.

Harry didn’t reply, but his lips twitched like he was holding back a comment. He stepped aside, letting her pass, and as Y/N headed toward the elevator, she couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder. He was still standing by the door, his attention now on the rain outside, but she could’ve sworn she caught him sneaking a glance at her as she walked away.

Y/N stepped into her apartment, water dripping onto the floor as she kicked off her soaked sneakers. She stripped off her rain-soaked clothes and tossed them into the laundry basket before heading straight to the bathroom. The hot water of the shower was bliss, washing away the chill of the rain and the lingering frustration of getting caught in it. By the time she stepped out, wrapped in a fluffy towel, her skin was warm and her mind was clearer.

Slipping into her favorite pair of soft pajamas—shorts and an oversized t-shirt—she towel-dried her hair and grabbed her phone from the counter. She hadn’t checked it since leaving work, and the screen lit up with a few notifications. Most were unimportant, but one text made her freeze.

Unknown Number:

Hey, it’s Harry. Got your number from the resident book. Hope that’s okay. I, uh, ordered way too much food. If you’re not busy and don’t mind eating with someone who’s terrible at small talk, you’re welcome to join me.

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. Harry had texted her? She stared at the message, rereading it a couple of times, unsure what to make of it. The grumpy, brooding neighbor had gone out of his way to invite her over for dinner?

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as she thought about what to say. She could easily come up with an excuse, blame the rain, or even politely decline. But something about his message—how he’d gone through the trouble of looking up her number and even made a self-deprecating joke—made her hesitate.

Finally, she started typing.

Y/N:

Hey! I’m surprised you didn’t mention how loud I was running through the lobby earlier. I’d love to join, but fair warning: I’m in my pajamas. I’ll bring wine to make up for it.

She hit send before she could second-guess herself and immediately got up to rummage through her small wine rack. She picked out a bottle of red, grabbed her favorite corkscrew, and texted him again.

Y/N:

Give me five minutes to make myself look less like a wet dog.

His response came almost instantly.

Harry:

I wouldn’t have said anything about the lobby, but now that you’ve brought it up… five minutes works. Apartment 4D.

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head. She quickly towel-dried her hair a little more, tossed it into a loose bun, and grabbed the wine. As she stood by her door, nerves fluttered in her stomach, but she pushed them aside.

Whatever this was—neighborly dinner, an olive branch, or something else—she was curious enough to find out.

Y/N stepped out of her apartment, the bottle of wine in hand, and made her way to the elevator. As she descended a floor, her nerves started to tingle, though she shook them off. It wasn’t a big deal. It was just dinner with her neighbor. Her very attractive, grumpy neighbor with tattoos and a British accent. Nothing to overthink at all.

When she reached Harry’s door, she raised her hand to knock—but before she could, the door swung open. Harry stood there, leaning casually against the frame, one eyebrow raised.

“I could hear you coming down the hall,” he said, his tone dry but his lips twitching into a faint smirk. “Subtlety isn’t your strong suit, is it?”

Y/N let out a laugh, rolling her eyes. “I’ll take that as your way of saying you’re happy to see me.”

“Something like that,” he replied, stepping aside to let her in.

Y/N walked in, glancing around as she entered. Harry’s apartment was similar in layout to hers but had an entirely different vibe. The walls were painted a deep, moody gray, with shelves lined with books, records, and a few small plants that looked suspiciously well cared for. A guitar rested in the corner by the window, and the faint smell of takeout wafted from the small kitchen.

“Nice place,” she said, setting the wine on the counter. “Very… broody chic. Fits you.”

Harry arched a brow as he closed the door. “Broody chic? Is that a compliment?”

“Depends how you take it,” Y/N shot back with a grin.

He shook his head, muttering something under his breath as he moved toward the kitchen. “Hope you’re hungry. I may have overestimated how much I can eat on my own.”

She followed him, glancing at the spread on the counter. There were containers of what looked like Thai food—pad thai, green curry, fried rice, and spring rolls. Definitely enough for two, if not three.

“You weren’t kidding,” she said, grabbing a spring roll. “Planning on feeding the whole building?”

“Only the loudest resident,” he said, smirking again.

She gave him a playful glare before grabbing plates from the counter and handing him one. “Lucky for you, I came prepared,” she said, holding up the wine. “This should balance things out.”

As they settled at the small table, Y/N couldn’t help but notice how relaxed Harry seemed. He wasn’t smiling, not really, but there was something softer about him tonight. Less guarded. And as they started eating, trading sarcastic comments and occasional small talk, she realized she didn’t mind the challenge of cracking through his tough exterior one bit.

Harry handed Y/N two wine glasses, their fingers brushing briefly as she took them. He didn’t say anything, but his lips moved slightly as if he was trying not to smirk. Y/N poured the wine, filling each glass just enough before sliding one over to him.

Meanwhile, he plated the food, carefully dividing the dishes between two plates. His movements were deliberate, almost methodical, and Y/N found herself watching him for a moment before realizing what she was doing. Shaking herself out of it, she grabbed her glass and followed him to the bar counter.

They sat side by side, the warm glow of the pendant light above them casting a cozy atmosphere. Y/N took a sip of her wine, her gaze flicking to Harry as he started eating in silence.

For a while, she stayed quiet, enjoying the food and the unspoken rhythm of their shared meal. But her curiosity got the better of her. Setting her glass down, she turned toward him slightly, resting her elbow on the counter.

“So,” she began, her tone light but probing, “why are you always so grumpy?”

Harry paused mid-bite, his fork hovering over his plate as he looked at her. His green eyes narrowed slightly, not in anger but as if he were trying to decide how serious she was.

“Grumpy?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, grumpy,” she said, her lips curving into a teasing smile. “You know, the whole emo, barely-smiling, ‘I don’t have time for your nonsense’ vibe you’ve got going on. Is it like… your thing?”

Harry leaned back slightly, taking a slow sip of his wine as he considered her question. “Maybe I’m not grumpy,” he said finally, his voice calm. “Maybe you’re just too… cheerful.”

“Cheerful?” she echoed, laughing softly. “That’s your explanation? I’m cheerful, so that automatically makes you grumpy?”

“Something like that,” he said, his lips quirking into the faintest smirk.

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help smiling. “You’re deflecting.”

He raised his glass, meeting her gaze over the rim as he took another sip. “Maybe.”

“Come on,” she pressed, leaning in slightly. “There’s got to be a reason. I mean, you’re not actuallymiserable all the time, are you?”

Harry sighed, setting his glass down and leaning his forearms on the counter. For a moment, he seemed to be debating whether or not to answer. Finally, he shrugged.

“I’m not grumpy,” he said, his voice quieter. “I just… don’t see the point in pretending all the time. People put on this front like everything’s great, but most of the time, it’s not. I’m just… honest about it.”

Y/N tilted her head, studying him. There was something in his tone—something unspoken but heavy, like he was revealing more than he intended.

“Well,” she said softly, “for what it’s worth, I don’t think being happy is the same as pretending. And I’m not pretending.”

Harry glanced at her, his expression unreadable. “I noticed,” he said simply.

Her cheeks warmed, and for a moment, they sat in silence, the weight of the conversation settling between them. Then Y/N picked up her glass and raised it toward him.

“To being honest,” she said with a small smile.

Harry’s eyes flicked to her glass before he picked up his own, clinking it against hers. “To being honest,” he echoed.

And for the first time that evening, his smirk softened into something closer to a smile.

Harry swirled the wine in his glass, staring at the deep red liquid for a moment before setting it down and looking at Y/N. His expression was more open now, his usual guarded demeanor softened.

“You seem nice enough,” he said, his tone casual but sincere. “I could use a friend around here.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the admission. For a moment, she wasn’t sure how to respond. Then a warm smile spread across her face.

“Well, that’s unexpected,” she said, her voice light with humor. “I thought for sure you hated me after the whole karaoke fiasco.”

Harry tilted his head slightly, his lips twitching in amusement. “Hated you? No. Annoyed, maybe. But hate’s a strong word.”

“Good to know,” Y/N said, laughing softly. “Because I was convinced you’d written me off as the world’s loudest neighbor.”

“I’ll admit,” Harry said, smirking now, “the karaoke was… a lot. But it’s hard to hate someone who sings ‘I Want It That Way’ with that much enthusiasm.”

Y/N covered her face with her hands, laughing harder. “Oh my God, I can’t believe you remember the song. That’s so embarrassing.”

“It’s unforgettable,” he said with mock seriousness, taking another sip of wine.

When her laughter died down, Y/N looked at him, her expression softening. “For what it’s worth, I’d be happy to be your friend. You don’t seem as scary as you pretend to be.”

“Scary?” Harry echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, yeah,” she teased. “You’ve got the whole ‘grumpy lone wolf’ thing going on. It’s a little intimidating.”

Harry shook his head, but there was a faint smile on his face. “I’m not scary.”

“No,” Y/N said, grinning. “You’re not. You’re just… Harry.”

He didn’t respond right away, but his gaze lingered on her for a moment, something unreadable in his expression. Finally, he nodded, his tone soft but certain. “Yeah. Just Harry.”

As they continued eating, the conversation grew lighter, the initial tension between them fading into something comfortable. By the time they finished their meal, Y/N realized that beneath Harry’s gruff exterior was someone she genuinely wanted to know better. And judging by the way his smirk had softened into something warmer, she suspected he felt the same.

After finishing their plates, Harry leaned back in his chair, resting his forearm on the bar counter as he glanced at Y/N. There was a comfortable silence between them, one she hadn’t expected when she first showed up at his door.

“Thanks for coming over,” he said finally, his tone quieter but sincere. “I don’t usually… do this.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, swirling her wine in her glass. “What? Order too much food or invite people over?”

He smirked faintly, shaking his head. “The second one. I’m not exactly the ‘neighborly dinner’ type.”

“Well, I feel special then,” she teased, tilting her head at him. “Although, if you’re not usually this social, why’d you invite me? I mean, not that I’m complaining.”

Harry shrugged, glancing down at his glass. “You seemed… different. I don’t know. Most people I meet just seem fake, like they’re putting on a show. But you’re…” He paused, searching for the right word. “Real.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the raw honesty of his words. “Oh,” she said softly, a smile tugging at her lips. “Well, thanks. I think.”

“I mean it,” Harry added, looking at her directly now. “You’re… not what I expected when I moved here. In a good way.”

Her cheeks warmed at his words, and she tried to play it off with humor. “Careful, Harry. You’re starting to sound like you actually like me.”

“Don’t push it,” he said with a smirk, though his eyes were softer than usual.

They fell into another comfortable silence, sipping their wine and letting the moment stretch out. Y/N felt herself relax more with each passing second, realizing how easy it was to be around him now that some of his walls had come down.

After a moment, she broke the quiet. “You know, for someone who claims not to be social, you’re pretty good company.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It is,” she said, her grin widening. “You should let yourself be social more often. You might surprise yourself.”

He scoffed softly, shaking his head. “One step at a time.”

They shared a small laugh, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel like this was a turning point. Whatever Harry had been holding back before, he was letting her in now, even if only a little. It felt… nice.

Eventually, she glanced at her phone and realized how late it had gotten. “I should probably head back,” she said, setting her empty wine glass down. “I’ve already overstayed my welcome.”

Harry stood as she got up, shaking his head. “You haven’t. But… thanks for coming. I mean it.”

She smiled, grabbing the bottle of wine. “Anytime, Harry.”

As she walked to the door, he followed her, leaning casually against the frame as she turned back to face him. There was something unspoken in the way he looked at her, a softness she wasn’t used to seeing from him.

“Goodnight,” she said, her voice lighter now.

“Night, Y/N,” he replied, his smirk returning.

She headed back to her apartment, her heart unexpectedly lighter. Maybe Harry wasn’t as grumpy as he seemed—or maybe she was just getting used to it. Either way, she found herself smiling as she closed her door behind her. And for the first time in weeks, she wasn’t overthinking anything.

The next morning, Y/N woke up to the sunlight filtering through her blinds and a faint smile lingering on her lips. The night before with Harry had been… unexpected, but not in a bad way. She stretched, grabbed her phone from the nightstand, and immediately opened her group chat with Harper and Lila.

Y/N:

So, guess what? Harry invited me over for dinner last night.

It didn’t take long for her phone to explode with notifications.

Lila:

WHAT. DETAILS NOW.

Harper:

DID YOU SLEEP WITH HIM?!

Y/N rolled her eyes, her cheeks warming despite being alone.

Y/N:

No, I didn’t sleep with him. Calm down.

Lila:

Boring. But continue.

Harper:

Okay, but like, did it feel like it was going there?

Y/N:

No! It wasn’t like that. He said he had too much food and could use a friend, so I brought wine, and we had dinner. That’s it.

Lila:

You brought wine. That’s a date move.

Harper:

Right? Totally a date.

Y/N:

It wasn’t a date. We ate at his bar counter, talked a little, and that’s all. But…

Lila:

BUT WHAT?!

Harper:

Spill, Y/N. Don’t make us beg.

Y/N sighed, biting her lip as she typed out her next message.

Y/N:

Okay, fine. I wouldn’t mind if something happened, but it’s not like I know much about him. I don’t even know what he does for work.

Lila:

Oh my God. You want to bang the mysterious, tattooed neighbor. I KNEW IT.

Harper:

This is your grumpy/sunshine romance, and we are living for it.

Y/N:

You two are ridiculous. I’m just saying he’s attractive, okay? That doesn’t mean anything’s going to happen.

Lila:

It’ll happen. The sexual tension alone is probably unbearable.

Harper:

Agreed. You just need to ask him questions about himself. What he does for work, what his favorite food is, if he’s single—

Lila:

Definitely ask the last one. For research purposes.

Y/N groaned, shaking her head but smiling despite herself.

Y/N:

You two are impossible. But fine, if the opportunity comes up, I’ll try to find out more about him. Happy?

Harper:

Ecstatic.

Lila:

Can’t wait to hear how this unfolds. We’re already planning the wedding playlist.

Y/N laughed, tossing her phone onto the bed. Her friends were relentless, but they weren’t wrong about one thing—she was curious about Harry. And as much as she tried to deny it, she wouldn’t mind getting to know him better… or seeing where this strange connection between them might lead.

Later that month Y/N walked into her apartment after a long day, expecting the usual cozy warmth to greet her. Instead, an icy chill hit her the moment she stepped inside. She frowned, rubbing her arms and heading straight for the thermostat. She fiddled with it for a minute, but no matter what she did, the heater refused to turn on.

“Great,” she muttered, pulling her jacket tighter around her shoulders. It wasn’t unbearably cold outside, but inside her apartment, it felt like a freezer.

With no other options, she pulled out her phone and scrolled through her contacts. She didn’t know many people in the building—just Harry, really. And as much as she hesitated, her fingers hovered over his name before she finally sent a text.

Y/N:

Hey, random question. Do you happen to have a small heater or something I can borrow? My heater’s broken, and it’s freezing in here.

A few minutes later, her phone buzzed.

Harry:

Why don’t you just stay here tonight? I’ve got heat, and I don’t own a portable heater.

Y/N stared at the message, her heart skipping a beat. She hadn’t expected that. Borrowing something was one thing, but staying at his place? She hesitated, her fingers tapping lightly against the screen. Before she could overthink it, she typed out a response.

Y/N:

Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude.

His reply was quick.

Harry:

You’re not intruding. Besides, it’s better than you freezing to death in your apartment. Bring whatever you need.

She bit her lip, a mix of nerves and curiosity swirling in her chest. Finally, she grabbed a bag and threw in some essentials—pajamas, a toothbrush, and a few other things—before bundling up and heading out.

When she reached his door, she knocked softly. It opened almost immediately, and there was Harry, leaning against the frame with his usual calm demeanor.

“Figured you’d take me up on the offer,” he said, stepping aside to let her in.

“Yeah, well, hypothermia didn’t sound appealing,” Y/N replied with a small smile, brushing past him into the warmth of his apartment.

As she set her bag down by the couch, she glanced at him. “Thanks for this, by the way. I really appreciate it.”

He shrugged, closing the door. “No problem. It’s just one night.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Wow, Harry. That almost sounded like you’re happy to have me here.”

He gave her a dry look but didn’t respond, instead gesturing toward the couch. “You can take the couch if you want, or I can grab some extra blankets for the guest room.”

She looked at the couch, then back at him. “Guest room? You have a guest room?”

“Barely,” he said with a shrug. “It’s more of a storage room, but there’s a bed in there.”

“Well, as long as it’s warmer than my apartment, I’ll take it.”

Harry nodded, heading toward the hallway. “I’ll grab some blankets.”

As Harry disappeared down the hallway to grab blankets, Y/N called after him, her voice light and teasing. “By the way, I brought some wine as a thank-you! You know, for saving me from my frozen wasteland of an apartment.”

She heard him chuckle faintly, his voice drifting back from the other room. “Thoughtful of you. What kind?”

“Red. A classic, nothing too fancy,” she replied, smirking as she started to take the bottle out of her bag. “Figured you’d prefer something a little understated, given your whole ‘mysterious and broody’ vibe.”

Harry reappeared in the doorway, carrying a thick blanket over one shoulder. He raised an eyebrow at her. “I think you enjoy calling me broody a little too much.”

“Well, it fits,” she shot back, grinning. “Speaking of which, I realized something earlier—I don’t even know what you do for work. So, enlighten me, oh mysterious one. What is it that you do?”

Harry paused for a moment, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “I own an art gallery,” he said simply, setting the blanket on the couch.

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “You own an art gallery?”

“Yeah,” he said, leaning casually against the back of the couch. “Small place over in Silver Lake. Nothing flashy, just local artists and smaller exhibitions.”

She stared at him, her curiosity piqued. “I didn’t see that coming.”

“What did you see coming?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t know,” Y/N admitted, laughing softly. “Something more… I don’t know, corporate? Like sitting at a desk all day and brooding at spreadsheets.”

Harry actually laughed at that, a low, warm sound that surprised her. “Sorry to disappoint. No spreadsheets involved.”

“No, it’s not disappointing,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “It’s just… unexpected. I mean, you own an art gallery. That’s cool. Artistic and grumpy? You’re full of surprises, Harry.”

He shook his head, but there was a faint warmth in his expression, like her enthusiasm had caught him off guard. “It’s just a business.”

“Just a business?” she repeated, tilting her head. “Don’t undersell yourself. That’s impressive.”

He looked at her for a moment, his gaze steady. “Thanks.”

They fell into a brief silence, and Y/N felt the air shift slightly. It wasn’t awkward—if anything, it felt… comfortable. She gestured to the wine. “So, should we open this or what?”

Harry nodded, stepping into the kitchen to grab two glasses. “Why not? You’re my guest, after all.”

As he poured the wine, Y/N couldn’t help but think that for someone who seemed so guarded at first, Harry was slowly becoming an open book—one she was eager to keep reading.

Y/N leaned against the counter, swirling her glass of wine as she watched Harry pour his own. “So, how did you end up owning an art gallery?” she asked, curiosity getting the better of her. “I mean, that’s not exactly the most common career path.”

Harry took a sip of his wine, his gaze thoughtful as he set the glass down. “I’ve always loved art. Painting, sketching… that sort of thing. But it’s not exactly the easiest way to make a living.”

Y/N nodded, understanding the struggle. “So, the gallery was a way to stay involved in the art world?”

“Something like that,” he said, leaning his hip against the counter. “I came into some money after my mom passed a few years ago. It wasn’t a fortune, but it was enough to make me think about what I really wanted to do. I didn’t want to sit in an office or work for someone else. I wanted something that felt… personal. The gallery felt like the right choice.”

“That’s incredible,” Y/N said, her voice soft. “I mean, turning something you love into a business? Not many people can say they’ve done that.”

Harry shrugged, a faint smile on his lips. “It has its challenges, but I don’t regret it.”

Y/N smiled at him, feeling a new layer of respect for her neighbor. After a moment, he tilted his head, his eyes flicking to her. “What about you? What do you do?”

She hesitated, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “Oh, nothing nearly as impressive as you,” she said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m just a server. I work at an Italian restaurant a few blocks from here.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching like he was holding back a laugh. “Why do you say it like that?”

“Like what?” she asked, frowning.

“Like it’s nothing. You said you’re ‘just’ a server,” he said, taking another sip of his wine. “You’re in food service, right? That’s an art in itself. Just… a different kind.”

She blinked, caught off guard by his perspective. “I’ve never thought about it like that.”

He nodded, gesturing with his glass. “Think about it. You’re part of creating an experience for people. The way the food’s presented, the way you interact with customers—it’s all part of the artistry. Doesn’t matter if it’s a painting on a wall or a plate of pasta. It’s still something people connect with.”

Y/N felt her cheeks warm, a mix of surprise and gratitude washing over her. “That’s… actually really nice of you to say.”

“It’s true,” Harry said simply, his green eyes meeting hers. “Stop selling yourself short.”

She smiled, feeling unexpectedly lighter. “Thanks, Harry. I guess I’ll try to keep that in mind the next time someone complains about their breadsticks not being warm enough.”

He chuckled at that, shaking his head. “Breadsticks or not, it sounds like you’re good at what you do.”

Y/N sipped her wine, the corners of her lips curving up. 

Y/N swirled the wine in her glass, glancing at Harry over the rim. She hesitated for a moment, then decided to push the conversation a little further. “You know,” she began, her voice softer now, “you have a really nice way of thinking about things. The way you look at art, even food… it’s kind of impressive.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, leaning against the counter with an amused expression. “Is that your way of saying I’m not just a grumpy neighbor?”

“Maybe,” she said with a small grin, her tone almost teasing. “But seriously, you’ve got a smart mind, Harry. You see things in a way most people don’t.”

He tilted his head slightly, his green eyes studying her as if trying to figure out her angle. “Are you flirting with me, Y/N?”

She laughed, feeling her cheeks flush slightly. “And if I was?”

Harry’s lips curved into a faint smirk, but he didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took a slow sip of his wine, his gaze never leaving hers. “Then I’d say it’s about time you stopped pretending you find me intimidating.”

“I never said you intimidate me,” she shot back, her grin widening. “I said you have a grumpy vibe. Totally different.”

“Right,” he said, his tone dry but his smirk giving him away. “Good to know I’m not scaring you off.”

“Not even close,” Y/N replied, her voice confident now. She leaned her elbow on the counter, resting her chin in her hand as she looked at him. “You’re not as scary as you think, Harry. In fact, I think you’re kind of… interesting.”

Harry chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You’re full of surprises, you know that?”

“Right back at you,” she said, her gaze warm.

For a moment, the air between them shifted. The playful banter was still there, but beneath it was something quieter, something unspoken. Y/N didn’t know what exactly was happening, but she wasn’t in a hurry to break the moment.

Harry finally set his glass down, his expression softening just slightly. “Careful, Y/N,” he said, his voice low but with a hint of amusement. “You keep talking like that, and I might start thinking you actually like having me around.”

“Maybe I do,” she said simply, holding his gaze.

The corners of his mouth twitched, and for the first time, he didn’t deflect her comment. Instead, he just looked at her, something unreadable flickering in his green eyes. Y/N felt her heartbeat quicken, but she didn’t look away.

The mood in the room shifted as Harry leaned forward, his green eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that sent a shiver down Y/N's spine. 

He tilted his head slightly, his voice low and teasing as he said, "You wouldn't be able to handle me."

Her breath caught, but she wasn't about to let him have the last word.

 "Try me," she challenged, her voice steady but laced with anticipation.

Harry's eyes darkened, the playful smirk on his lips giving way to something deeper, something more raw. Slowly, deliberately, he reached out and placed his hand lightly on her throat-not gripping, just resting, his thumb brushing the edge of her jaw. The warmth of his touch made her heart race, and she felt her breath hitch as he leaned in closer.

For a moment, the world around them seemed to disappear, the only sound her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. Then, without another word, Harry closed the gap between them, capturing her lips in a deep, searing kiss.

It wasn't gentle, but it wasn't rushed either-it was deliberate, like he'd been holding himself back and was finally letting go. His lips moved against hers with a confidence that left no room for hesitation, and Y/N melted into the kiss, her hand instinctively reaching out to grip the edge of the counter for balance.

She kissed him back just as fervently, tilting her head to deepen the connection. His fingers slid from her throat to the back of her neck, pulling her closer as though he couldn't get enough of her. The heat between them was undeniable, and in that moment, nothing else mattered-not the chill of her broken heater, not the wine, not the playful banter that had led them here.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathing heavily, their foreheads nearly touching. Harry's green eyes searched hers, and for once, his usual guarded expression was nowhere to be found.

"Still think I can't handle you?" Y/N whispered, her voice a little breathless but tinged with humor.

Harry smirked, his hand still lingering at the nape of her neck. 

"Guess I underestimated you," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "But l'm not done yet.”

Harry's hand slid down from Y/N's neck to her wrist, his grip firm but careful as he led her through his apartment toward his bedroom.

Her heart pounded in anticipation, her breath catching when he opened the door and gently but deliberately pushed her onto the bed.

Y/N gasped softly, propping herself up on her elbows as she looked up at him. The intensity in his green eyes made her pulse race, and the energy between them was electric, the room feeling heavier with every passing second.

Harry stepped closer, his movements slow and controlled, like he was savoring the moment.

He placed a hand on her throat again, this time with a gentle but deliberate squeeze that sent a shiver down her spine. His thumb brushed along her jawline as he leaned in, his voice low and commanding.

"Are you going to be a good girl for me?" he asked, his tone dripping with authority and heat.

Y/N's breath hitched as she nodded slowly, unable to look away from his piercing gaze.

Her voice was caught somewhere in her throat, so she let her actions speak for her, tilting her head slightly into his touch.

Harry smirked, leaning down until his lips were just a breath away from her ear. His voice dropped even lower, a whisper that made her skin prickle with anticipation.

"I knew you would be," he murmured, his tone both teasing and possessive.

The words sent a jolt through her, and she felt her body react instinctively, her cheeks flushing as she surrendered to the moment.

Harry's lips brushed against the corner of her jaw, trailing down her neck as his hand stayed firmly but gently in place. Every movement felt deliberate, like he wanted her to feel every second of his attention.

Whatever control Y/N thought she had going into this was slipping fast, and the way Harry's touch consumed her made it clear—he knew it, too.

Harry paused, his intense green eyes meeting Y/N’s as he leaned over her. His hand lingered on her throat, his grip light but enough to hold her attention completely. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, didn’t move any closer. He just looked at her, his gaze softening slightly, as if he were silently asking her a question.

It wasn’t just a look—it was a pause, a chance for her to stop him if she wanted to. His eyes, usually so guarded, were now open and searching, silently asking for her consent.

Y/N’s heart raced as she looked back at him, feeling the weight of his unspoken question. She swallowed, her breath shallow as she gave him the answer he was waiting for. Slowly, purposely, she nodded.

Harry’s lips curved into a faint smile, a mixture of relief and satisfaction crossing his face. “Good,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with an edge of tenderness.

He leaned down again, his lips brushing hers as his hand on her throat tightened just slightly, enough to make her feel both safe and completely at his mercy. And as the space between them disappeared, Y/N felt herself giving in fully, her trust in him unwavering.

Harry's piercing gaze never left Y/N's face, his touch as light as a butterfly's wings. He slowly pulled her to the edge, his hands on her hips. The soft rustle of sheets filled the room as she sank into the bedding, eyes darting up to meet his.

Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him undoing his pants, revealing his hardness beneath. She gulped audibly as he climbed onto the bed with her, their bodies pressed together from chest to knees. His hand trailed down her side, stopping just above her thigh and giving it a gentle squeeze. His touch sent shivers of anticipation up and down her spine.

"Tell me what you want," he whispered against her earlobe, his hot breath causing goosebumps to form on her skin.

She bit her lip, hesitating for only a moment before whispering back, "I want you to take control."

Harry's smirk was both predatory and reassuring as he nodded once in understanding. His hand slid underneath her shirt, tracing patterns across her stomach before moving higher till it reached its destination: her lacy black bra. He palmed one of her breasts through the fabric, eliciting a moan from deep within her throat that echoed around them. His thumb circled her nipple roughly, making it harden into a tight bud underneath his touch.

His lips followed suit, kissing along her jawline and trailing down towards that erect nipple. He flicked it with his tongue teasingly while simultaneously tug

His smile was wicked as he leaned back, a glint in his eye. "Is that so?" He trailed kisses down her neck, his stubble grazing against her sensitive skin, making her shudder with pleasure. His hand slid between their bodies and brushed against her center, indulging in the wetness there. She gasped at the sensation, arching into his touch.

"You're so ready for me," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. He pushed her shorts aside and slid one finger inside her slowly, feeling the tightness surrounding him. Y/N moaned softly, her hips grinding against his hand in encouragement.

Harry removed his finger, teasing her as he lowered his head to capture one of her nipples in his mouth. He growled softly against her skin, sucking gently as he began to thrust two fingers inside her in short, quick motions that sent waves of pleasure coursing through her body. She cried out softly, gripping the sheets beneath her as he continued his ministrations. He quickly undressed her and stared at her body. Y/N felt hot under his eyes. 

They quickly lost themselves in each other's touches. The squeak of the bedframe echoed in the room as Harry positioned himself at her entrance and pushed inside her slowly. She gasped at the fullness but welcomed it, urging him on with a nod of encouragement.

He slowed down, taking deep breaths to regain control as he braced himself above her. "Are you sure you're ready for this?" he asked hoarsely, gaze locked onto hers.

Y/N nodded fiercely, signaling him to continue. With a low growl of approval, he began moving inside her slowly but steadily, their 

bodies meeting in a dance of desire. Every thrust sent ripples of pleasure through them both, their skin slick with sweat under the dim light of the bedside lamp. The air was thick with an almost palpable tension as they moved together, the sound of their bodies meeting filling the room.

Harry's grip on her hips tightened, his rhythm becoming faster and harder, mirroring the desire that flared in his eyes. Y/N met him stroke for stroke, their eyes locked on each other as if they were the only two people in the room. The sounds of skin slapping against skin filled the silence beneath the duvet, broken only by their heavy breathing and soft moans.

Her fingernails dug into his shoulders as she neared her climax, his name falling from her lips in a whispered plea. Without missing a beat, he quickened his pace, his cock driving into her with urgency. Their connection was intense, overwhelming, everything she could have asked for and more.

As she cried out in ecstasy beneath him, feeling her orgasm wash over her like a wave, Harry followed close behind. His body tensed as he groaned loudly, filling her with his warmth and love. Their hearts raced in unison as they finally collapsed onto each other, panting heavily but content.

He rolled off her slowly, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead before rolling onto his back beside her. 

Harry lay on his side, propped up on one elbow as he looked down at Y/N. His green eyes were softer now, a flicker of mischief dancing in them as he smirked. 

"So," he said, his voice low and teasing, "are you going to text your little girl chat and tell them we fucked?" Y/N let out a surprised laugh, turning her head to look at him. 

"What? No! They'd never let me live it down."

Harry raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. 

"You should. Tell them the hot, mysterious guy was really grumpy the whole time."Y/N laughed even harder, covering her face with her hand. 

"Oh, right. That'll really sell it. 'Hey, girls, just an FYl, my grumpy neighbor is not only hot but also excellent in bed. Highly recommend.'"

Harry chuckled, his grin widening. "Not bad. Make sure you add in the part about how I stayed in character the whole time-grumpy and all."

She rolled her eyes, still smiling as she nudged him playfully. "Fine. I'll throw in that your scowl is even sexier up close. Happy?"

"Ecstatic," he said dryly, though the amused glint in his eyes gave him away. YN shook her head, the laughter subsiding into a warm smile.

 "You know," she said, her tone softening, "you might be mysterious and grumpy, but you're also a little cocky. Just saying."

Harry leaned down, his face inches from hers.

"Maybe," he murmured, his voice low and teasing. "But I think you like it."

Her cheeks flushed as she looked up at him, biting back a grin. "Maybe I do."

"Good," he said simply, before capturing her lips in a slow, deliberate kiss that made her forget about everything else-including her friends waiting for updates in the group chat.

The week passed in a blur of near-misses and brief encounters between Y/N and Harry. She saw him in the mailroom once, where he gave her a small nod and the faintest hint of a smirk before disappearing upstairs. Another time, they crossed paths in the hallway, exchanging quick hellos but nothing more.

Neither of them brought up the night they spent together, and while Y/N tried to brush it off as a casual hookup, part of her couldn’t help but wonder if he was deliberately avoiding the topic. She didn’t want to push, figuring Harry would open up if and when he was ready.

Then, one evening, as she was curled up on her couch with a glass of wine and her laptop, her phone buzzed with a text.

Harry:

Hey. Sorry I’ve been so distant this week. The gallery is getting ready for a new showing, and it’s been… a lot.

Y/N stared at the message for a moment, her stomach fluttering. She hadn’t expected him to reach out, let alone apologize.

Y/N:

Hey, no worries. I figured you were busy. New showing sounds exciting though!

A moment later, her phone buzzed again.

Harry:

It is. Stressful, but worth it. You should come by. It’s this Saturday night. Bring your friends if you want.

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Harry inviting her to his gallery? That felt… significant.

Y/N:

I’d love to. Are you sure you want me to bring my friends? They’re a little… loud.

Harry:

If they’re anything like you, I’m already prepared for chaos.

She laughed softly, shaking her head.

Y/N:

Fair warning: chaos is guaranteed. But I’ll be there.

Harry:

Good. I’ll send you the details tomorrow.

Y/N set her phone down, a small smile tugging at her lips. For all of Harry’s grumpiness and guarded demeanor, this felt like his way of extending an olive branch—a step toward something more. And she couldn’t deny that the idea of seeing him in his element, at the gallery, intrigued her.

She grabbed her phone again and opened the group chat with Harper and Lila.

Y/N:

Ladies, clear your schedules for Saturday night. We’re going to an art gallery.

Predictably, her phone exploded with responses almost immediately.

Lila:

Wait, is this Harry’s gallery?

Harper:

The grumpy tattooed neighbor has an art gallery?

Y/N:

Yes. He invited me. And before you ask—no, we’re not talking about the other night.

Lila:

Boring. But fine, we’re in. Is there wine?

Harper:

And snacks?

Y/N:

I’ll ask. But behave yourselves. He already thinks I’m loud.

Lila:

Oh, honey, we’re just getting started.

Y/N laughed, already imagining the chaos her friends would inevitably bring. But deep down, she was looking forward to Saturday more than she cared to admit. 

The week crawled by as Saturday approached, each day slower than the last. Y/N found herself obsessing over small details—whether Harry would be too busy to notice her, what kind of people attended art gallery showings, and most importantly, what to wear. She wanted to look effortlessly put-together, like someone who appreciated art but wasn’t trying too hard.

By Saturday afternoon, her room was a battlefield of discarded outfits. Finally, she settled on a sleek black jumpsuit paired with a cropped denim jacket and ankle boots—stylish but not over the top. She added a few gold accessories and a swipe of lipstick before grabbing her bag and heading out the door.

On the way to Silver Lake, she picked up Harper and Lila, who were already buzzing with excitement when they climbed into the car.

“You look hot,” Lila said, eyeing her outfit. “Very ‘I like art but I’m too cool to talk about it.’”

“Thanks,” Y/N said, laughing as she started the car. “I’m going for low-key, not intimidating.”

“Well, mission accomplished,” Harper chimed in, adjusting her blazer. 

Y/N glanced at them in the rearview mirror, grinning. Harper wore a bold red jumpsuit, while Lila had opted for a metallic skirt and leather jacket. 

By the time they pulled into Silver Lake, the sun had set, and the neighborhood was alive with energy. The gallery came into view, its windows glowing warmly against the evening sky. People were milling about on the sidewalk, chatting in small groups with glasses of wine in hand, while others filtered in and out of the bustling space.

“This is it,” Y/N said, parking the car and taking a deep breath.

“It’s so fancy,” Lila said, practically bouncing in her seat. “Look at all these people!”

Harper leaned forward, peering out the window. “I’m already picturing Harry brooding in a corner, glaring at anyone who talks too loud.”

“Probably,” Y/N muttered, her heart fluttering as she got out of the car. She grabbed her bag and adjusted her jacket before turning to her friends. “Okay, let’s not embarrass me too much, yeah?”

“No promises,” Harper said with a grin, looping her arm through Y/N’s as they headed toward the gallery entrance.

Inside, the space was even more vibrant. The walls were adorned with bold, eclectic pieces of art—paintings, sculptures, and mixed-media pieces that immediately drew attention. Soft music played in the background, and servers wove through the crowd with trays of wine and hors d’oeuvres. The hum of conversation filled the air, blending with the occasional burst of laughter.

Y/N’s eyes scanned the room, searching for Harry. She didn’t spot him right away, but she noticed how carefully curated the space felt—each piece arranged with intention. It was a reflection of him, she realized, meticulous and thoughtful.

“This is amazing,” Harper said, grabbing a glass of wine from a passing server. “He really knows what he’s doing.”

Lila nudged Y/N. “Speaking of, where is Mr. Grumpy Art Dealer? I want to see him in his element.”

“I don’t know,” Y/N said, glancing around again. “He’s probably—”

Before she could finish, her gaze landed on him. Harry stood near the back of the room, dressed in a crisp black shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showcasing his tattoos. He was talking to a small group of people, but his eyes flicked toward her as if he could feel her presence.

Their gazes locked for a moment, and he gave her a subtle nod before turning back to his conversation. Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, and she felt Lila squeeze her arm.

“Oh, he definitely saw you,” Lila said, grinning. “And I’m not imagining the way he looked at you.”

“Stop,” Y/N hissed, her cheeks flushing. But she couldn’t deny it—there was something in his gaze that felt personal, even in the middle of the crowd.

“Go say hi,” Harper urged, giving her a nudge.

“Not yet,” Y/N said, grabbing a glass of wine for herself. “I’ll wait until he’s free. Let’s just look around first.”

As they wandered through the gallery, admiring the artwork, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that Harry’s eyes were on her—even when she wasn’t looking his way.

Y/N wandered through the gallery, sipping her wine as she admired the artwork. Each piece was so different—some abstract, others intricate and detailed—but all of them carried a sense of purpose. It was easy to see that Harry had a good eye for curating.

She glanced across the room and saw Harper and Lila chatting animatedly with a group of women, likely bonding over their outfits or the wine. Typical, she thought with a smile, shaking her head.

As she moved to the next painting—a striking piece of layered colors and textures—she felt someone step up beside her. There was a shift in the air, a quiet presence that made her turn her head.

It was Harry.

He stood with his hands in his pockets, his gaze fixed on the painting. His black shirt, with the sleeves still rolled up, contrasted sharply against the warm tones of the art, and his tattoos seemed to blend seamlessly into the aesthetic of the space.

“It’s acrylic and resin,” he said, his voice low but steady. “The artist used palette knives for the texture and then poured resin over it to give it that shine. Took weeks to cure properly.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard for a moment before she found her words. “It’s beautiful,” she said softly, turning her attention back to the piece. “I love the depth in it. It feels like you could reach in and get lost.”

Harry glanced at her, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “That’s the idea. The artist wanted it to feel immersive, like stepping into an emotional landscape.”

She looked at him, her curiosity piqued. “Do you know all the details of every piece in here?”

“Pretty much,” he admitted, his smirk growing. “Part of the job. I like to understand the process—it helps me connect with the artists and explain it to people who come through.”

Y/N smiled, sipping her wine. “It’s impressive. You’ve created something really special here.”

Harry looked at her again, his green eyes studying her for a moment. “Thanks,” he said quietly. “It means a lot, coming from you.”

She tilted her head, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. “Why me?”

He shrugged slightly, his gaze flicking back to the painting. “Because you actually look at the art. Most people just see it, but you’re trying to understand it.”

Her cheeks warmed at the unexpected compliment, and she turned back to the painting to hide her flustered expression. “Well, you make it hard not to appreciate it. The way you talk about it… it’s obvious how much you care.”

He didn’t respond right away, and the silence between them felt comfortable, almost intimate. Finally, he leaned in just slightly, his voice softer now.

“I’m glad you came,” he said.

Y/N turned to look at him again, her heart skipping a beat at the closeness between them. “Me too,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, the bustling crowd around them faded into the background, leaving just the two of them standing there, the art surrounding them as if it were part of their story.

Harry slipped his hand into Y/N’s, his fingers warm and steady as he gently tugged her through the gallery. She followed without question, her curiosity mounting as they weaved between groups of people. He didn’t say a word, just led her down a quieter section of the space where fewer people were lingering.

When they stopped, Y/N noticed the piece in front of them was a painting—bold yet delicate, with strokes that somehow conveyed both strength and softness. She tilted her head, studying it, drawn to the way the light and shadows played across the figure in the painting. There was something familiar about it, something that tugged at her memory.

She took a step closer, her heart beating faster as the realization slowly dawned on her. The painting wasn’t just beautiful—it was her.

Her breath caught in her throat, and she turned to Harry, her eyes wide. “Is this…?”

He nodded, his gaze steady but unreadable. “It’s you.”

Y/N stared at the painting again, her mind racing. The details were unmistakable—the way her hair fell, the soft curve of her face, the hint of a thoughtful expression she’d never realized she wore. But it wasn’t just her likeness; it was the way the he had captured something deeper, something vulnerable and raw.

“How?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Harry’s lips curved into the faintest smile. “I started it a few weeks after I moved in. I didn’t even know your name then. I just… saw you.”

Her chest tightened as she turned to him again. “You saw me?”

He nodded, his green eyes softer now. “In the mailroom. In the hallway. On your balcony once, drinking coffee. I didn’t know why, but there was something about you that I couldn’t get out of my head. So, I painted.”

Y/N felt her cheeks warm, a mix of emotions swirling inside her—flattery, disbelief, and something she couldn’t quite name. “Harry, this is… incredible. I don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he said, his voice low but steady. “I just thought you should see it. This is the first time I’ve shown it to anyone.”

Her heart thudded in her chest, and she took a step closer to him, her voice soft. “Why me?”

Harry’s gaze locked on hers, his expression open and sincere. “Because it’s you, Y/N. I couldn’t have painted this if it wasn’t.”

The noise of the gallery faded around them as she stood there, her hand still in his, staring up at the painting of herself. For the first time, she saw herself through someone else’s eyes—not as the loud, chaotic neighbor, but as something worthy of being captured in art.

And Harry, the grumpy, mysterious neighbor, was the one who had done it.

[witchthewriter]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ female, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

Also this is 18+ ... we acting like grown ups.

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

𝑼𝒉𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒅

“Destiny is all… but you were never part of the plan.”

・This marriage is a strategic alliance. An act to broker peace between two warring factions.

・Even though Uhtred wants this peace, he isn't thrilled about it.

・At first his mindset was to keep you alive, but the more you got to know each other...the more he was in denial:

“I don’t care about her. I just need to make sure she stays alive… for the alliance. That’s all.”

・What started as a simple sword lesson had turned into him pushing you harder than he intended. Wanting you to see the true strength of opponents.

・He didn't want to sugarcoat what war and battles were. (Not that you had been fantasising about them anyway).

・Uhtred thought his lesson was going well until you finally knocked him to the ground.

・For a split second, he was shocked...stunned and then he stared up at you, breathing heavily. And then he smirked.

・Showing indifference, Uhtred trains you to fight. And adorns you with proper fighting gear, a shield and gets a blacksmith to make your very own sword.

・Even in the early stages of your marriage, Uhtred would subconsciously protect you - no matter where you were or what you were doing. E.g., even at the tavern, he never let anyone get too close (his men were like three other bodyguards)

・You were glad for Finan, he became like a brother to you. Always making things lighter, bringing the humour.

・Because you were constantly on the road with the four men. And Uhtred didn't trust anyone else to take care of you.

・But he would never say that...

・Sihtric barely spoke to you, but he held a lot of respect for you.

・Over time, Sihtric becomes one of your fiercest defenders, in battle and in life. Like a quiet shadow, a forcefield ensuring no harm comes to you.

・Osferth; he's your first friend, real friend, although he was a bit awkward. You become the sister he's always wanted. And he becomes that little brother who wants to follow you everywhere and do everything you're doing...

・The truth of Uhtred's feelings comes out during a heated argument. After nearly getting himself killed...again, you accuse him of putting too much at risk to gain Bebbanburg, that he cares too much about gaining that castle back.

・Shocked, ashamed, embarrassed that you would say that. Uhtred's face heats, and what you say is truth. Well, it was truth, until:

"I have spent my whole life fighting for Bebbanburg! But then you came along, and now I’m fighting for something else. For you. Don’t you see that?”

𝑵𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖:

“My Heart” uses this one when you have private moments and when he feels vulnerable. I.e., after a battle or during soft, intimate conversations.

“Shieldmaiden” is used in front of his men, showing his pride in you.

“Wife” is both teasing and affectionate, often said when you’re being stubborn.

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Shared Vision and Purpose

Closed Off (Uhtred) x The Person They Warm Up To (You)

Brave Warrior (Uhtred) x Self-Assured Damsel (You)

Places His Wife Above Everyone

𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Home Is Wherever You Are

The Parents Of The Group

Reluctant Allies to Lovers

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Kingdom Dance by Alan Menken

Scotland by BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra

I Had To Do That by James Newton Howard

𝑭𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒏

“I didn’t want this, but now? I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

・Your marriage was a political alliance to strengthen ties between Ireland and the Saxons. Finan, as Uhtred’s right hand, was seen as a valuable connection.

・How else could Finan endure this other than with humour?

・As soon as you met him, he was cracking jokes. Sometimes he was funny, other times you were annoyed - because he was constantly making light of ... everything.

・When you called him out on it, he sighed, "I'm sorry lass. It's ah...the only way I know how to cope sometimes."

“She’s alright, I guess. I mean, for someone who can’t keep up in a fight…” (He says this right before throwing himself in front of an arrow meant for you.)

・Day by day, you were slowly opening up to each other. Learning through talking by the fire, on horseback, walking through the forest.

・Soon Finan began to lean close while talking to you, staring into your eyes, moving a piece of hair behind your ear, brushing past you "accidentally", etc.

・Finan was always looking to see if you were okay. Even in a crowded hall, his gaze would flick to you every few moments, but if he was ever caught, he'd smirk and look away.

・Whenever you feel down, Finan doesn't mind making a fool of himself to make you laugh

・If talking doesn't help, he'd happily slip in the mud during training or let Sihtric carry him around bridal style.

・One night, as a joke, you tied a small braid into his hair, saying it makes him look more "noble." He laughed it off but didn't take it out... he wore it for days afterward.

・His feelings are brought to light during a drunken night around the fire. The others were sharing stories about what they fight for; land, honour, family, ... fun.

・Someone asked Finan and as he was about to make a joke, he glanced at you.

・Your face was illuminated by the light of the flames, and it hit him like a punch to the gut.

"Her."

Silence fell. He looked to you who was wide-eyed, "I'll always fight for you."

𝑵𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖

“Lass” is his go-to—light, teasing, and affectionate.

“Trouble” slips out when you’re bickering or challenging him (which is often).

“Little One” is playful, his everyday teasing, often when he’s trying to make you laugh.

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

You Fell First, But He Fell Harder

Constant Banter

The Sarcastic Duo That Can Finish Each Other's Insults

Places His Wife Above Everyone

𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Height Difference

Bickering and Banter

Timeless Love

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Say Yes To Heaven by Lana Del Rey

Valerie by the Midnite String Quartet

Happily Ever After by George Fenton

𝑺𝒊𝒉𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒄

“You make me feel like I belong… like I'm worth loving.”

・For Sihtric, he was forced to marry you. The King willed it so. It was a cruel decision. the King wanted to somehow split up Uhtred's group - make it harder for them to be connected.

・It didn't turn out how the Monarch intended...the group just kept you with them.

“I don’t care if she notices me. I’m just here to protect her.” (He says while carrying a pouch full of the random trinkets you’ve given him.)

・You were trained by all of them in battle; how to defend, attack, how to do a shield wall etc.

・Spending time with the men was fun; even if Sihtric was silent most of the time.

・Finan always made you laugh, and Osferth made you feel comfortable no matter what the context was.

・In time, you truly thought of Uhtred as your leader. And you too called him 'Lord.'

・Sihtric constantly lingered in the background. He was always nearby, however, he was never imposing. Just ensuring you were safe.

・You were very different to what everyone thought. There was a softness in you. A heart of gold.

・When you became comfortable around Sihtric, you started to give him things.

・Particularly things you found on your journeys. E.g., many many rocks; smooth river stones, shiny pebbles (anything shiny really), beautiful feathers from birds, flowers that have specific meanings etc.

・And he keeps every single item.

・His pockets are completely full.

・Sihtric is constantly staring, but instantly looks away when he's caught. A small blush dusting his cheeks.

・Another thing is his quiet gestures...he'll fix your armor, puts extra supplies on your horse, sharpens your sword without saying a word.

・The love you hold for each other comes out during the aftermath of a brutal fight.

・You were tending to Sihtric's wounds, hands trembling as you stitched a deep cut on his arm.

・Sihtric couldn't help but watch your face, the concetration, the look of concern.

・You were both silent until you uttered, "You...you could have been killed," your voice was soft but full of emotion.

・Sihtric caught your wrist, his blood-stained fingers entwining with yours.

In a voice so wrapped with truth, Sihtric whispered, "I would die for you. Without hesitation. "

・This marriage wasn't duty anymore. Now...it was love.

𝑵𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖

“Little Blade” pops up during training sessions or when you sass him.

“Mine” is possessive, intense, and usually slips out during high-stakes moments.

“Angel” when he’s overwhelmed with how much he adores you.

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Madly In Love (Sihtric) x Ridiculously Oblivious (You)

Sun (You) x Moon (Him)

Always Bringing Them Rocks They Think They Would Like (You) x Keeps The Rocks (Him)

Places His Wife Above Everyone

𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Healing and Redemption

Unbreakable Bond

Emotional Intimacy

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Me and Your Mama by Childish Gambino

Sex On Fire by Midnite String Quartet

Fire In The Water by Feist

𝑶𝒔𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒕𝒉

“You make me brave. Brave enough to be yours.”

・The marriage was to save your life. Many Saxons wanted you dead, but a marriage to a religious Saxon meant you'd be safe.

・Early on in the marriage Osferth would blush at everything you did. From compliments to teasing, he was constantly red-faced.

・But as your time together grew, he started seeking out those moments.

・Even though he’s usually mild-mannered, if anyone speaks poorly of you, Osferth is the first to step up; sword in hand, voice shaking, but unwilling to step down.

・Osferth would give you thoughtful gifts. Small items like a bunch of wildflowers, a smooth stone, etc. But never admitting they’re from him.

“She’s just being friendly. That’s what this is… right?” (As he turns red after you compliment his sword-fighting.)

・Both of you faced your feelings when he thought he lost you.

・It was after a battle; a close one where you all were separated from each other. You were missing for a few hours, and Osferth had been searching unrelentlessly.

・With each moment his panic had risen. His heart beating so fast he thought he might die.

・But he did find you. You were unconscius but alive.

・Osferth cradled you, tears in his eyes while whispering his feelings:

“Please, don’t go. I… I love you. I should have said it before.”

・You stirred at his words, opening your eyes, smiling lightly.

・Blinking slowly, you hummed. Moving to hold onto his arm.

"I love you too."

𝑵𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖

“Sweetheart” is his everyday term — filled with gentle love.

“Dearest” slips out when he’s overwhelmed with love — often in moments of shyness or soft confessions.

“Braveheart” is used when he’s overwhelmed by your strength, often after emotional or dangerous moments.

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕����𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

He Confessed His Love When Thinking You Were Unconscious 

Black Cat (You) x Golden Retriever (Osferth)

Menace To Society (You) x Living Moral Compass (Osferth)

Places His Wife Above Everyone

𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Trust and Dependence

Intertwined Destinies

Love Conquers All

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Running Up That Hill by Kate Bush

The Train by James Newton Howard

Let The Light In by Lana Del Rey

𝑺𝒊𝒈𝒕𝒓𝒚𝒈𝒈𝒓

“I would follow you to the ends of the earth—because without you, none of this matters.”

・There was constant tension whenever you were around Sigtryggr.

・He rarely spoke to you in the early days of your marriage.

・Seeing it only as a way for him to gain more power

・And in return, your family would be safe - your village, kingdom, would not be harmed by any Dane.

・You kept your own beliefs and wore your traditional family clothes, even though you did not know when you would see your family again.

“She talks too much… but I don’t want her to stop.”

・Watches you when he thinks you aren’t looking.

・His stoic exterior hides it, but he studies you. Including how you smile, how you move, how you speak.

・Sigtryggr knows what your favourite colour is, what you like to do with your time - all because he notices things. And he wants to know more about you.

・He lets you in; allows you to see glimpses of his vulnerable self.

・He shares stories of his past, things he’s done, things he regrets and waits to see if you’ll turn away. You never do.

・And in a world where he controls everything...he lets you make decisions. E.g., about where to travel, what to eat. He values your opinion.

・When both of your feelings were revealed, it was during a difficult situation.

・You had confronted him after a harsh decision in battle. He had executed someone who defied him.

・It shocked you. But ... you understood. Traitors had to be punished, maybe he went a bit far this time but you understood.

・In the comfort and seclusion of your shared bedroom, you spoke your thoughts.

"Don't you think that was a bit ... brutal? I mean, yes he was a ... traitor but you could have done anything else-"

"I know you think I'm a monster," he replies, his voice low. He wasn't facing you, almost as if he wouldn't. Or couldn't.

"A monster?" You replied, shocked.

"Yes! Do you think I wanted this? To be this man?" His words came out like venom.

You soften, and step closer, "No. No, you aren't a monster. Sigtryggr, I have seen the good in you!

His gaze turns to you, utterly and completely. Gently taking a hold of your wrist, voice low and vulnerable: “I’ve done terrible things… but I would burn the world for you.”

・No more pretending. You had the realisation that...he is completely, undeniably yours.

𝑵𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖

“Beloved” used during rare, emotionally charged moments e.g., after a battle, during confessions, or when you’re vulnerable together.

“My Flame” is used when there's passionate, heated arguments or intimate moments.

“Little Chaos” he calls you this when you’re being unpredictable or teasing him.

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Soulmates

"I've done terrible things in the past" (Sig) x "All i care about is who you are in the present" (You)

The Hyperactive (You) x The Unheeded Voice of Reason (Sig)

Places His Wife Above Everyone

𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

I Can't Exist Without You

Healing and Rebuilding Together

I Go Wherever You Go

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

One More Hour by Tame Impala

Margaret by Lana Del Rey

Dance Me To The End Of Love by Leonard Cohen

[lavshaze]

❤️ | Beautiful thing

Continuation to terrible thing, but can be read as a stand-alone, I'm terribly sorry this took so long, I'm starting to think writing silco smut is my destiny and I should just drop out and do this 24/7

✧ contains ⤐ continuation of the wet dream shenanigans, so naturally also smut! finger sucking and fucking, oral (female receiving), missionary, a lot of feelings, like the yearning truly hits its climax (but so do both of them so it's alright), oh and lovely tween jinx is there at the beginning <3 w.c. ~ 7.7k (big boy)

It’s around 7:35 when you reach The Last Drop. 

You could blame it on the amount of time you spent in the shower, staring at the tiled floor and trying to get over the visions you had, but you weren’t going to tell Silco any of that. ‘I almost got robbed’ sounds a lot nicer and just as believable. 

You’re greeted with ear-splitting music the minute you walk through the door, a usual for the club, especially at this hour. It was only getting started and was probably going to be a lot worse by the time you leave. You pull your jacket tighter around yourself as you scan the crowd of faceless dancing bodies, looking for your possible silver line for tonight, a tall and strong woman who you’d actually pay to come up to Silco’s office and bully you just for this night. 

You visibly deflate when you don’t catch sight of her in her usual spots, not playing poker nor flirting at the bar. All you can see is a lot of sweaty people and a lot of shimmer being passed around. You do, however, spot Ran by the pool table, and you place her in your mind as your backup plan. 

Fortunately for Ran, your favorite blue haired devil is at your side the minute you open the door to his office. 

“Jinx!” 

You yelp out her name in equal parts excitement and surprise. Her hug attack nearly knocks you off your feet, if it weren’t for the door frame you’d managed to hold on to. You can’t help the grin that spreads on your face at the eagerness; the poor girl is stuck with a monologuing villain as a father all day, it’s probably a relief to see you, a normal human being who doesn’t glower and speak in riddles.

“Hello, Jinx.” You fondly run your fingers through the hair at the top of her head. She turns her head to look up at you, pearly whites exposed in a wide grin. “I missed you, sweet girl.”

She's grown taller over the past few months, now tall enough to reach your chest when she hugs you, but she's still as lanky as the day you found her. Or, well, the day Silco found her. She was smaller back then, but just as skinny. You look at the man who took her in, deeply immersed in whatever document is stressing him out tonight— looking just as malnourished as she does— and it all makes sense. 

“I've been waiting for you all day,” comes the squeaky whine from below, demanding your undivided attention. “Silco is so busy, he doesn't have the time to check out my new paintball gun, which is really lame, because this one has explosives!”

At the mention of his name, the man looks up from the troubling piece of paper. He stares at you for a minute, eye adjusting to the sight of another human being, then begrudgingly places the wretched document down on the desk and pushes the chair back to stand. 

“You're here.” 

You smile, absentmindedly petting the girl attached to your waist, “yes, I am. Did you not hear me talking just now?” 

He reaches for his glass of bourbon, three melting ice cubes in a nearly empty cup, “I did. I wasn't quite sure if you were a figment of my imagination or not.” 

Your smile almost slips into something sinister, all the nervousness from before suddenly escaping your body, “what, you have fantasies about me?” It’s so easy to slip back into the subtle flirtatious routine, the light comments that aren’t supposed to mean much to either of you. The earth-shattering dream almost seems like a silly thought now that you’re here, in his office, breathing in the air that’s tinted by him in every way. 

It’s Silco. Things didn’t have to change between the two of you, you could always just enjoy purgatory. 

He looks at you from atop the rim of his glass, a flicker of a smile on his face, “only when I'm at my wit's end.” 

The moment ends there, if only to protect Jinx. 

He makes his way around the desk to settle on the couch, leaning back and finishing up his drink. You observe the way his hands curl around the glass, how he crosses one slender leg over the other, and bite down on your lip like a voyeur— always watching through the glass, never having the chance to lay your hands on the merchandise. 

Jinx detaches from your waist and goes over to sit next to him, thankfully pulling you out of the slightly unpleasant thoughts you were having. He puts his arm out, and she automatically goes for a side hug. You smile to yourself, watching The Eye of Zaun growing softer around the edges at the hands of the blue haired menace never gets old. 

You sit beside her on the couch, and she draws you into countless conversations. Reminiscing the past week, telling you about the progress she's been making with the explosives/paintball gun, and how she's already tried it on Sevika a couple times— ‘Jinx, that's not nice’ ‘it's sevika, she doesn't deserve nice!’ — and retelling a particularly funny bar fight that she witnessed.

While she’s explaining the process she went through to implement the explosives into a harmless toy gun, your eyes flicker back to the man at her side. He’s leaning back, craning his neck to look at the ceiling, and you take the chance to admire his side profile. Enhanced by the dim light of his desk lamp, the curve of his nose is particularly alluring at the moment. From his nose to his charming overbite to the strands of hair that fall to the side as a result of a long exhausting day, you sneak subtle glances at him, as much as you can without getting caught. 

But you know, in your heart of hearts, that he must be aware of your burning gaze on the side of his face. And you know, when he turns his head slightly to lock eyes with you, that the look he gives you is just as loaded and dangerous as this little game you were playing.

“..anyways, I’d really like to show you the gun now.” 

Your attention falls back to the child nestled between the two of you, big blue eyes blinking innocently at you. You know she’s not clueless, and you know she’s probably sick of you playing eye games with her father when she’s right there. 

“Of course, honey. Silco?” 

He removes his arm from around her, adjusting his position so his body is drawn away from yours. Huh, funny. You hadn’t noticed how much it was angled towards you until now. 

Jinx sighs in relief the minute the two of you are out of the door and you can’t help but laugh.

“Jinx.” 

“Oh, c’mon, it’s impossible to be in the same room with the two of you without you making kissy eyes at each other!” 

Thankfully, you’re far enough down the hall to know Silco wouldn’t hear that. “We do not make kissy eyes at each other.” 

She stops, turns to give you an unamused look, then turns back around and continues walking. 

You follow her down to the basement, where she pulls out her magnificent invention. She shoots it far enough away so neither of you get impacted and you’re thankful to see that the explosions are more like fireworks than actual big booms. You’re proud of her and you tell her as much, she practically glows at the praise.

But then her smile drops and she sighs dramatically— the spitting image of her father when it comes to dramatics, how are they not blood related— “if only things could always be like this…” 

You frown, “like what?” 

“You and me, having fun, no Silco.” 

The statement is so jarring that it pulls a stunned laugh out of you, and Jinx grins, proud of herself. “Kidding! I like him too, I just wish you two would stop your secret messages.”

“Secret messages?” 

She nods, “the ones you communicate with your eyes. I wanna be in on those conversations too!” 

You smile. She definitely does not want to be in on those conversations, but you'd preserve what was left of her innocence. 

“So, Jinx,” you lean down to be on her level, “what do you wanna do next?” 

You watch as all thoughts of those secret conversations practically vanish from her head, replaced with much more important things, like visiting Jericho’s stall. 

When you make your way back to Silco’s office, it’s with a lot more food than you left with. Jinx is happily satisfied with the meal that she had at the stall, but she carries the extra food bags like ammo. She was nice enough to consider leaving some of it for her dear father. 

To your disappointment though, the office is empty. You think maybe something came up and he had to take care of it, as it often happens, and you feel a little relieved that maybe you’ll get to end the night here and postpone the sensual torture he puts you through to a later time, when you're not so hormonal. As you’re about to back up into the hallway to ask the standing guard of his whereabouts, you feel a pair of hands on your hips, holding you in place.

“Careful,” Silco leans forward to speak the words right into your ear, “it’s awfully rude to cause such an injury to your host.” He’s not even whispering, he just always uses that tone. 

His hands are gone from your hips as fast as they’d been placed there, and you almost mourn the loss. But the sight of Jinx’s knowing, bored expression diverts your attention back to the girl. 

Right, no kissy eyes. 

“Jericho’s?” He asks, one eyebrow raised. Jinx nods and rushes to place the remaining food on the coffee table, “we got some for you too!” 

“How nice of you, Jinx. Unfortunately, I’m rather full at the moment so I must postpone such an appetizing meal to a later time.” You note the smell of smoke in the air, he definitely had his meal of the night. “In the meantime, I think we should be getting you to bed.” 

Jinx groans, “already? But she just got here! I barely get to spend time with her.” 

You put an arm around her shoulder, “I’ll come by earlier on Monday if you go to bed on time right now.” She moves to wrap her arms around you for a final time, looking up at you with glossy blue eyes, “you promise?” 

“I do,” you plant a kiss on her forehead. 

Silco extends a hand and she takes it, small fingers engulfed in his much larger one. She waves at you as he guides her outside his office, down to her bedroom, you wave back as they slip out the door. This leaves you in the dim office alone. 

You saunter over to the couch and mindlessly drape yourself over the cushions, your head occupied with the inevitable decision you’re facing now. You either make up an excuse to leave early, one that he’d know better than to believe, or stay and put up with more hidden innuendos and dark, poorly masked looks. It’s not that you’re not used to it, or that it’s a new development, but rather the fact that you’ve come to the harrowing realization that whatever you felt for him ran deeper than you anticipated. It had been bubbling in your chest, threatening to overflow like a boiling kettle on a stove, and the final straw— the thing that truly pushed you over the edge— was that dream. 

And it's not the fact that it was dirty, you've had those about him before, and consequently, you’d learned to brush them off as wild fantasies. It happened once in a dream kind of deal, you weren’t going to get hung up over the possibilities of those thoughts ever coming to fruition. The problem with this particular dream was how romantic it was— the heated gaze in his reflection, the appreciative scan of your body, gods, just the feeling of him inside you. You weren’t fucking that man, you were making love to him. 

The thought is so cliche it makes you gag, but that look in his eyes when he was watching you in the mirror, your unconscious brain was endlessly cruel to make it look like he held such love for you. The longing, the monstrous yearning that dream instilled in you was dangerous. It planted a feeling inside your chest that now threatens to split it open if you're not careful. 

You're not blind to possibilities, there's a chance that Silco shares the sentiment and you're not in this mess entirely alone; but you're also aware that he's extremely mission oriented, and he probably wouldn't consider the prospect of something serious with you as long as Zaun wasn't free. It’s something you respect him for, never losing sight of his goals, you just wish it didn't make him nearly unattainable.

Because gods above, you'd love to attain him. 

It’s a thought that’s been brewing in the back of your mind since you first met. Three years ago, a much more distressed version of yourself was too tipsy to feel endangered by his presence at one of the less frequented bars. Back when Vander was in charge, you didn't know who Silco was or the implications of what had happened between them. All you knew was that this strange man had a sexy scar and his eye kinda glowed in the dark, and that made your alcohol-addled brain see stars.  

To this day, you aren’t quite sure what about your slurred conversation skills made him tolerate you enough to listen to you all night. You’ve suspected it was the loneliness he was dealing with at the time, and you were likely his least dangerous form of entertainment, or maybe he thought you were pretty and perhaps much more charming when sober. It’s probably the second one.

But that's how your unconventional friendship started, chance encounters in small bars. He was always able to find you alone and you were never sure how he did it but you didn't really mind. Where you found your curiosities being satisfied every time he shared something about himself, he found someone willing to share the burden with him. Eventually, you learned about Vander and what actually happened between them. The river, the betrayal, the blood; the respect you'd had for Vander soured into distaste, and turned into borderline hatred when you learned of the deal he had with the enforcers. 

Things were progressing quickly though, and it wasn't long before Vander was out of the picture. The Hound had been overpowered by The Eye, and that's when you met Jinx for the first time, hysterical and wailing in Silco’s arms. Powder, they used to call her, peculiarly fitting for the girl who had crumbled in your hold that night. You held her until the screaming ceased and the three of you fell asleep on the couch. 

That's when your relationship with Silco started changing, getting much more intimate. That night where Silco discovered just how useful you could be with Jinx, that was the first domino in a long line that led up to this moment, to the present where you were fighting tooth and nail against the feelings that were threatening to suffocate you. 

The sound of the door unlocking pulls you out of your thoughts, the object of your suffering walks in. 

“Drink?” He walks over to the bar cart.

You shake your head, “actually, Silco, I'm thinking of going home early today.” 

He pours himself some whiskey and doesn't look up at you, “oh, were you now?” He takes a slow, agonizing sip of his drink before he speaks again, “anything important?”  

You smile in spite of yourself, “not really, just tired.” 

He looks up from his drink, two mismatched eyes settling on your frame. His gaze travels down your body, assessing you as if you were one of the chembarons working under him. But under that scrutinizing gaze, you catch embers of something else, something dark and seductive, something that looks a lot like desire. 

Your face burns. 

“I guess I shall not keep you then.” He turns, walking over to his desk, “I wouldn't want to distract you from such important appointments.” 

He settles back in his chair and is almost immediately immersed in work again. You envy him for being so focused, knowing that if you go home now you'll just keep yourself awake thinking about him. You watch his fingers grasp the pen that he puts to paper and feel yourself grow light-headed, it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that you had to go home and sit with your thoughts while all he touches is paperwork. You wanted him to touch you, put you out of your misery. 

You stand but make no move towards the door, instead making your way over to him. He doesn't look up when you pass by, walking over to the grand window that highlights the main wall of the office. You'd always been fascinated by it, the color was certainly a choice, and in daylight it looks mystifying. Right now, it's dark enough for you to catch your reflection, you pretend to adjust your hair. 

“You don't really want to leave, do you?” 

He doesn't move, doesn't turn in his chair. You know he can't see the gesture but you shake your head, “I don't know.” 

“Is there something you'd like to tell me?” 

Your body feels a tad too warm for comfort. 

“I don't know.” 

He discards his work with a sigh. Your lips curl in amusement, knowing that whenever you’re around, he’s too distracted to get any actual work done.

You watch as his reflection comes up behind yours, the heat in your body intensifies in response to the glowing glare of his dark eye. You know he's aware of the effect he has on you, and you know he does it on purpose. You wonder if he's ever haunted with thoughts of you the way you are of him, you wonder if he ever has dirty dreams about you. 

“Has something happened?” 

You shake your head. 

“Is someone threatening you?”

You shake your head again and laugh, of course that's what he would ask. 

“Look at me.” 

You don't have it in you to resist, especially when he's using that tone. You turn around, coming face to face with his narrowed eyes, sea green and charcoal eyes looking back at you. It’s difficult to miss the hint of concern that you’ve become accustomed to recognizing over the years. 

“What's on your mind, dove?” 

Your heart sings at the pet name and your lips curl bashfully, “I can't say it.” 

“Can't you?” His eyes trail down to your lips, “you can tell me anything.” 

In theory, you can. In theory, you have, ever since you first met and you'd spilled way too much about yourself to him, and that leap of faith is exactly how you ended up here. Standing in front of the man who holds your heart so firmly, unable to reach out and touch him, unable to have more than a small part of him. 

He draws closer, too close. 

“No, Sil. I'm afraid I can't this time,” your voice comes out soft, strained, “I'm afraid I have to leave before I do something stupid.” 

He pays no mind to your statement, hands reaching up to cup your face, rough fingertips contradicting the gentle nature of the act. Your eyes gloss over, the spark you've been feeling erupts into wild flames that threaten to consume your whole being. His thumb brushes over your cheekbone with such care that it makes your chest squeeze. Expression unreadable, he observes your face carefully; when his thumb skirts the outline of your lips, your breath catches in your throat.

You part your lips slightly and something inside him understands the silent communication. Something else throbs.

Experimentally, he brushes his thumb over your lips, appreciating the rough texture of the chewed skin. He watches as you open your mouth wider in invitation, assessing the situation before he pushes his thumb past your lips and right into the wetness of your oral cavity. Your mouth closes around him, careful not to bite, as you stare back into his observant eyes.

His breath hitches, pupil of the good eye blowing wider, as he watches you take his finger to the hilt. You think this must be another cruel trick from the gods, another wet dream that you're going to wake up from in frustration, but the feeling of his finger against your soft, wet tongue is unmistakable.

You’re not sure what this means, for you or your relationship with him, but you’re sure that it’s happening and you feel the need to savor what you can. Your hand comes up to wrap around his wrist, thumb caressing the inside of his hand as your eyelids grow heavier. 

For a moment, the world stops. For a moment, all you can think about is how he tastes in your mouth, and flashes of the wicked dream you had only a few hours before run through your mind. Weeks of filthy thoughts push at you to do more, to ask for more of him, but you’re insistent on taking it slow, on memorizing every little gesture, just in case you never experience it again. 

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” 

You hum around his finger. The tent in his pants may be a visual representation of the effect you have on him, but you’re feeling rather greedy. 

“Surely, you must, or else, you wouldn't walk into this office with such pride, so confident knowing that you've got me wrapped around your finger.” Your lips curl into a smile around his finger and he scoffs in amusement, “happy to know that you're my weakness, aren't you?” 

He removes his finger and you're left to think about the implications of a ‘weakness’. A soft spot, a passion, a sweetness, a hazard, an obstacle, a problem. Did Silco see you as a problem? And most importantly, as you look into hungry, lustful eyes, does he care about that right now? 

You can't help the hand that comes up to grasp at his vest in desperation, you can't help the frantic need to keep him close while you can, to touch him for as long as he deems himself touchable. You can't help the force that makes you pull him closer to press your lips against his in a bruising kiss, and you can't help the shiver that runs through your body when he kisses you back with just as much force. 

He tastes like the cigar that you knew he was having earlier, sweetened by the taste of whiskey still in his mouth. The contact overwhelms your senses, unable to process anything besides how he tastes, how he smells, how he feels. 

He backs you up against the window so your burning hot skin is pressed against the cold glass, tongue shoving into your mouth with admirable ferocity. You let him tilt your head for better access, place his arms around your waist, push you up against the glass, you'd let him do anything to you right now. 

Sharp teeth bite down on your lips and the metallic taste of blood fills your mouth, you find yourself unable to contain the small sounds of pleasure at his vicious probing. You can feel his arousal through his pants, poking at your thigh. Hungry for more, you reach down to give it a stroke over the clothes, to which he groans directly into your mouth.  

He draws back and you come face to face with the feral look in his eyes. 

“Needy little thing.” 

He reaches underneath your skirt and you gasp when his cool fingers make contact with the warm wetness of your underwear. He runs his finger back and forth in slow tortuous cycles. 

“So wet, so eager for my touch. Tell me, dove, how many times have you fantasized about this?” Your breath catches as he moves the offending fabric to the side and presses his finger to your bare cunt. “How many times have I made you this wet?” 

“Silco, please.” 

A devilish smile extends on his lips, “I know. Answer my question.” 

You throw your head back against the glass in frustration, breathing deeply. 

“More than I can count.”  

The fire that catches in his eyes is enough to burn down the greatest libraries in the world, mere embers of it manage to set your whole body aflame. It would be mortifying to witness if you weren’t the object of his affection, the recipient of what pleasure he has to offer. 

“You terrible little thing.”

Your answer rewards you with one, long finger easing its way past your lips and into your cunt. Your hips stutter at the contact and it elicits a sharp smile from your assailant as he curls the digit inside you. He watches your face contorting in pleasure, drawing out helpless needy moans from your sweet little mouth. He moves to swallow the gasps with his own, planting soft but relentless kisses on your lips. 

He's kind enough to insert a second finger in, working you on his hand as he angles his wrist to reach further inside. You break off from his mouth to peer down at the sight, watching his fingers disappear into your cunt; it’s endlessly obscene and it only feeds the fire burning inside you. You tighten around him when the pleasure gets too much and he grunts into your ear, the sound rolling down your spine. 

You force your head back up so he can kiss you again, shoving your head back against the glass. He claims your mouth once more, fingers relentlessly probing at your opening. His thumb moves to rub against your clitoris and your body twitches with pleasure, forcing you to draw back from his searing hot mouth. He observes you with the ravenousness of a predator observing its prey, appreciating the way your mouth helplessly hangs open. 

His thumb continues to rub against your clit as you approach the precipice at an alarming rate.

“I should like to see you speechless like this more often.” 

The smug smirk that stretches upon his kiss-bruised lips, the sinful tone of his voice, and the burning hot gaze he observes you with— it’s all too much. 

It takes a lot of control to keep your eyes open, but you don't strip him of the pleasure that comes from watching you crumble at his hand— on his hand. Those cursed, rough fingers that have committed atrocious crimes in the name of a greater cause, they continue to fuck the common sense out of you until you have no fight left in you.

When he pulls his fingers out, they’re coated with your wetness and you flush in embarrassment. Undeterred, he places the fingers in his mouth and licks them clean, before he leans forward and presses a soft kiss against your lips.

“Shall we continue this in the bedroom?” 

Gods above, thank you Janna. 

“Please.” 

When you're laid down on the silky bed sheets this time, it's miles better than you dreamt it to be. 

Silco wastes no time undressing you, having pulled your shirt off on the way to the bed, he figures out how to unhook your bra pretty quickly. You shouldn't be too surprised, those fingers are seriously skilled at everything they do. Once they're off, he dives to catch one of your breasts in his mouth, teeth grazing sensitive nipples. You take rapid deep breaths as you watch him devour your chest, creating bite marks that you'd definitely admire later. The wanting between your legs is overwhelming, but so is the one in your chest. You affectionately thread your fingers through his hair, pulling on it when he bites down on your sensitive skin. You think you could come from this alone. 

When he's satisfied with the assault on your chest, he moves lower. Your skirt is unzipped and removed at an alarming speed and his face is between your thighs before you have a chance to protest. 

Warm breath fans over your underwear, still wet from your first orgasm. He pauses, eyes peering up at you in such an uncharacteristically serene manner that you almost think something's wrong. 

“I've thought about this before.” 

You tilt your head, eyelids heavy as you smile down at him. “Have you?” 

“You have no idea, darling. I've thought about you in positions much worse.” 

You bite your lip, “I know. I've thought about you too.” There's a silent, unspoken implication in your statement that you hope the breathlessness and aching look you give him convey well enough, you're not sure that you'd be able to push out the confession otherwise. His eyes flicker from your face back to your clothed cunt, deep in thought. Almost mindlessly, he reaches up to lace his fingers through yours. He does it on his left, you reach for both his hands, rubbing gently at his knuckles. If it weren't for the position, you'd lean down and kiss them. 

“You must understand how badly I've wanted this,” and you do, “you must understand that this isn't a mindless act of the body.” Your breath hitches at what he's implying, and you're thankful that he doesn't declare it just yet, because you think you'd explode under the weight of the feeling bubbling in your chest.

“I do, Silco. I feel the same.” 

‘We can talk about it later’ is unspoken, but well understood between the two of you. For now, you focus on the way his body feels against yours, the way he noses at the inner side of your thigh in a slow absentminded motion. 

“Are you going to eat me out or should I get up and leave, Sil?” 

That catches his attention, eyes snapping to meet yours. His fingers leave yours to curl possessively around your thigh, digging hard enough to leave marks. 

“Leave? I would never let you, not when I have you in my hands like this.” 

And oh Janna, did he have you in his hands. 

The first contact of his tongue against your folds has you arching your back in fervor, eager to meet his mouth with your core. His eyes flicker in amusement as he pins you down by the hips.

“Patience.” 

You whine, the amount of need circulating your body overwhelming your senses. He presses his tongue flat against you and licks another experimental strip; your chest heaves, heart beating erratically against your ribcage. The frustration has you untangling your fingers from his to grip onto the sheets. He glances up at you, a dangerous look playing in his eyes, and goes for another lick. 

You sharply inhale, “Silco.” 

His lips curl in amusement, “good things come to those who wait, my love.” 

You throw your head back and release a sound that's a combination of pleasure and frustration. Teasing, evil bastard. 

“You've waited a long time for this, haven't you?” You nod, feeling too frustrated to answer. “Tell me, dove, what made you snap this time? What gave you the audacity to wrap your lips around my finger so desperately, looking at me like I hold the key to all your desires?” 

Your skin feels impossibly hot, his warm breath fans over your exposed core but he makes no move to relieve you of your suffering, looking at you expectantly instead.  

“I had a dream,” you push out through gritted teeth, “I had a dream about you.” 

He draws lazy circles on the inside of your thigh, “have you? Did it feature such promiscuous positions?”  

You shake your head, smiling down at him, “worse, you fucked me in front of your mirror.” 

His breath hitches, pupils going wide at the mental image. He speaks slowly, entranced, “is that what you like?” 

“Maybe for another time,” your smile drops, “right now, I'd like you to fucking eat me out, please.” 

He chuckles, planting a toothy kiss on the inside of your thigh, “so impatient.” 

When his tongue makes proper contact with your pussy, you let out a wanton moan. The relief it provides is inexplicable, allowing you to melt back into the covers, his grip on your thighs keeping them wide open. Your hands travel down to thread through his hair, and you get the wonderful vision of dream-disheveled Silco as a very real projection between your thighs. 

“I always knew you were good with your tongue, Sil.” You sigh in bliss. He hums against your core, “gave it a lot of thought, have you?” 

“You have no idea.” 

His wet tongue rubs against your soft walls, eliciting more needy sounds from your throat. He eats pussy like an experienced veteran, silver tongue curling inside you to reach the deepest spots. If only he could always put it to such good use. 

His sharp nose rubs against your clit and your body jolts in pleasure. 

“Right there, Sil. Don't stop,” he looks up at you with dark eyes as you continue to beg in the neediest tone known to man, “please, don't stop.” 

And he doesn't. True to his nature, he has the stamina of a fighter, and if this is how good he eats you out, you look forward to what comes after. 

He works you with his tongue until you approach your second orgasm of the night. Your back arches in anticipation, grip tightening around his hair, all you can manage in warning is a breathless close that he responds to with more vigorous probing. His hands around your hips pin you down, resisting the relentless twitching that's evoked by his tongue moving inside you. 

You call out his name in desperate pleas, hips stuttering with every deep plunge into your cunt. His eyes meet yours from between your legs, practically glowing in enjoyment; your heart stutters at the sight, you don't know if you'll ever witness anything like this in your lifetime. He mercifully continues to rub at your clit, providing you with the release you've been begging for.

The tight rope inside you continues to curl and tighten further until it snaps, reverberating through your body like an intense war cry. You come with a broken moan that has you squeezing your eyes under the intense weight of pleasure, unshed tears wetting your lashes.  

Silco squeezes your thighs, silently asking you to look at him, and you shakily comply, allowing him direct eye contact while he fucks you through your high. 

He detaches from you within a few seconds, and the affection swelling in your chest has you pulling at his vest to pull him up for a bruising kiss. You taste yourself on his tongue, the evidence of your orgasm mixing into your shared spit. When you pull back, you're met with his wonderfully disheveled and flushed face, and you notice— with great amusement— that you've rubbed some of his foundation off on your thighs. 

Your eyes trail down to his clothed chest, you realize that there's a great disequilibrium between your states of undress. Your hands rise to trace the gold in his clothes, all the way up to his collar. 

“Will you take this off?” You tug at his clothes, “please, I'd like to see you.” 

You're aware that it's a big request, that his bare body would put him in such a vulnerable position that he would never recover from if this doesn't go well; but you're not quite sure what ‘this’ is either, between the lust you feel in your core, and the love beating in your chest, the one feeling that courses through you is ‘want’. 

You want him naked, vulnerable, offering himself to you just as you have to him. 

He looks torn, hesitant.

Your hand creeps up further to brush at what little skin is exposed from his neck. Slow tentative movements over the sensitive area has him twitching in your hands, but he doesn't move away. Your hands creep higher to settle around his neck, feeling for the physical and emotional scar that was left there ages ago, but still burns as if recently instilled. 

Discussions about Vander have been few and far in-between, and you understand the wound still runs deep. For a minute, you're afraid that he's going to turn away from your touch when his breath catches in his throat at the incidental scratch of your nails, but he relaxes in your grip when you continue to rub soothing patterns over the sensitive skin. 

With what power you have, you trace mindless circles on his shoulders, leaning forward to plant soft kisses along his collarbones. “It’s okay.” You kiss upwards, drawing closer to the junction of his shoulder and neck. His breath hitches as you draw closer to the sensitive skin, but he tilts his head back and allows you unspoken access anyways. 

Trust is not easy to come by, especially with someone like him, but the sight of Silco practically melting in your hands while you trace over his most sensitive scar, it feels like a bond even deeper than trust. 

The need to be brave for him, to lay yourself bare— even more than being entirely naked under him— is imminent. You take a deep breath before your fingers hook together behind his neck and pull him down for another kiss, once more for courage. 

“I like you, Silco,” you speak against his lips, glistening with the proof of your kiss. “I like you a lot, and there's nothing you can say or do that will make me like you less.” Your eyes trail up to his own, the next words feeling much more serious than you intend, “I like you so much that nothing you can show me now will make me turn away.” 

It's a reckless promise, a heated confession that admittedly just follows the weight of the moment without much previous thought. Later, you'd have to enforce the idea of boundaries, the things that he isn't allowed to do, but something in your head tells you that you weren't lying. Regardless of what he does, you don't see yourself ever walking away. 

His gaze softens, the hesitant look from earlier replaced by a prominent ache, the aftermath of a healing wound. 

“Ever the sweet talker, dove.” 

You smile, “only for you, Sil. Only for you.” 

He draws back, moving to undo his vest before he halts, instead reaching for your hands. 

“Would you like to help?” 

Your eyes twinkle with mirth, “please.” 

Slender fingers wrap around yours, guiding you to undo his tie, take off his vest, push his shirt off his shoulder. You appreciate the sight of his bare, scarred chest, running your fingers across his torso. You lean forward to plant a few soft kisses on his shoulder while you attempt to undo his pants without looking. 

You’re forced to draw back with a laugh when you undeniably fail. 

“Your pants are killing me.” 

He huffs a light laugh, “it takes a moderate amount of skill, dearest,” something flickers in his eyes, “you'll gain experience in no time.”

Your heart squeezes at the implication. You watch as he illustrates how to undo those buttons, burning every movement to memory. Once the pants are off, you reach for his underwear eagerly, grunting out a finally that only amuses him further. 

Within a few seconds, he's back on top of you and you're both equal parts naked this time. You wrap your legs around his waist, secure him against you as you exchange more open mouthed kisses. He grows harder against you, rubbing against your thighs and wet, sensitive cunt. You groan into his mouth and he takes it as a sign to reach between your legs and position himself properly. 

Your arms squeeze around his shoulder when he slips in. His girth is impressive for someone of such stature and it has you gasping for air. He raises his head to look at your face as you take him in, allowing you the glorious vision of his ruined, flushed face— he's continuously coming undone under your touch. Janna, you could watch him like this forever. 

Your fingers dig crescent moons into his pale skin once he begins moving inside you. It starts out slow, he enters all the way until you're taking him to the hilt and then allows you the pleasure of slow thrusts. Needy moans bubble in your throat as your grip on his shoulders tighten so much that you think you're about to draw blood, giving him a more pleasurable sort of scar. 

“It's been hard holding back around you lately,” he whispers against your lips. “You're impossibly alluring when you want to be.” 

You kiss him once more, “how do you think I feel?” He chases your lips when you part but you speak again, “how long has it been for you?” 

“Since the day I took in Jinx.” He drops his head into the crook of your neck, almost like he's shy, “and for you?” 

You wrap your arms around his neck, “since the day we met.” 

He breathes a light laugh against your skin, you continue. “No seriously, I'd have fucked you back then if you initiated anything. Men with scars are lethally sexy.” 

“Aren't you lucky, then.” 

He bites into your neck, eliciting a soft moan from your mouth, and sucks until you're sure it forms a nice satisfactory bruise. He licks the sensitive skin and moves to other sites to plant more marks. “Always knew you were a biter,” you say breathlessly, throat constricting under his hot mouth.

Once he's done with his assault on your neck, he stands tall and you watch something shift in his expression. The soft, loving look is replaced with something hungry and dangerous, it has you squeezing around his cock. 

“You've waited so patiently,” he hooks your legs higher around his middle, “I have to make sure I live up to your expectations.” 

And then something is set off inside him, because his pace changes from soft and romantic to goddamn animalistic. His pace speeds up, drilling so deeply inside you that you think you feel him in your stomach. Your fingers dig into his back for some sort of grounding ritual but it only makes him groan right into your ear and the sound travels down to where you're connected. You can barely catch your breath. 

“You, oh my gods, you exceed expectations, Sil.” 

“Oh, I know, darling, the way your cunt squeezes around me is proof enough.” 

Every obscene word goes right to your core and you feel him tugging on every sensitive string in your body. It's much more than that dream— gods that stupid, wonderful dream that had started the cascade of events that lead to this. There was no need for dreams anymore, his cock inside you was very much real and it was throbbing with need, one that you matched in your own core. 

His arms are on either side of your face as he fucks the living daylight out of you, and you turn and burry your teeth in his left hand to feed some of the gnawing need in your core. You think it would be delightful if you could have more of him in your mouth, you consider if you should bite down until you draw blood but you choose to be kind this time. You can save it for the next few times, something he seems to be planning as well. 

You turn back to face him and find yourself grinning stupidly at the knowledge that you're going to get this sight again, and again, and again, until you are either satisfied or dead. And if you happen to die during it, that'd be even better. 

“Dirty girl, smiling to yourself while you take my cock. What are you thinking of?” 

“I'm thinking of how beautiful you are, and how you're going to fuck me over and over again until we're both satisfied.” 

He releases a low groan, hips stuttering momentarily before he picks up the pace again, slamming against your bare ass with newfound vigor. 

“You're going to be the death of me.” 

Then he leans down and catches your mouth in one last sloppy kiss, tongue assaulting yours in a similar fashion to his cock assaulting your cunt. You wrap your arms around his neck once more, whining pleas into his open mouth. The pleasure in your lower abdomen is overwhelming, overstimulated by his bruising kiss and arms coming around you. 

It accumulates, all the sensations and the continuous coiling in your pelvis, until it explodes. The ecstasy washes over your body in waves, making you gasp against Silco’s mouth as you come undone. It shakes your whole body and for a second you think you see stars in the glowing orb of his damaged eye. He's endlessly beautiful, even as he brings you to your ruin. 

He continues to fuck you through your orgasm and long enough to reach his own, too. He finishes inside, spilling himself deep within you, making you shudder at the sensation. He doesn't stop until he's completely soft inside you. 

It's severely disappointing when he pulls out, but you understand that you can't be joined at the hips forever without an unfortunate lab accident. Instead, you settle for his embrace when he puts an arm around your shoulder, cuddling into him— two sweaty heaving bodies and an uncertain future. 

When he traces invisible patterns into your bare skin and leans down to kiss your forehead though, it doesn't really matter. 

It especially doesn't matter when you look up at him with a smile that matches his own, and it doesn't matter even more when that smile of his turns into a smirk at his next words.  

“If that's what one dream can do, I look forward to the rest of them.”

Lovely illustration for silco being an #eater right here ♡

[intuitively-her]

You are so gorgeous/handsome, and you look very put together.😍 People know that they gotta come correct if they want to come towards you. You're a charmer. You might unintentionally flirt with people a lot. You're a HUGE lover girl/boy. Your hugs are the best. And you could be a gift-giver as well. I'm getting family vibes here. You seem to be detached and in your own world most of the time. You have this mysterious vibe to you. You don't give too much of yourself away at once. You like to take risks and can be a wildcard at times. This is really admired by others. You're the fun friend in your group. Your energy reminds me of Maddy Perez and Nikki from save the last dance. I’m also channeling Santana from glee lol. You could be very popular. Someone here is in a leadership position. Sports team captain? You lead with logic and practicality. Someone here likes to debate with others. This is my argumentative pile. King of swords energy. You're veryyy disciplined when it comes to your work. Literally nothing or no one could knock you off balance. And you've literally worked to bring your manifestations to life. You're that girl/guy because you remain strong even through your darkest times. You always stay committed to yourself. You remain hard on the outside, but soft n gooey on the inside.🥰

Extra confirmation: Famous, Mean girl, Younger woman, Elusive, Intoxicating, Bitchy, Stuck-up, Sarcastic, Apathetic, Smart ass, Beautiful, Sexy Voice, Friendly, Co-worker, Side chick/side man

Channeled songs: Try again by Aaliyah and Antidote by Travis Scott

Things always seem to work out for you no matter what. Some people view you as a "good luck charm" lol. It's like you have the Midas touch or something. You're very strategic with your plans. Smart, sexy, and independent. You have a very balanced and precise mindset. People could never really cross you. You're always 10 steps ahead. Your energy reminds me of TheWizardLiz. This is my workaholic pile. You've built everything that you have from the ground up. Magician energy. You're a master manifestor.⭐ Your fairness is very admired. You're not afraid to speak up for what you believe in. You could give great advice as well. You have such a light energy! You have a very open and honest personality. You might be a social butterfly. You live more of luxurious lifestyle. I heard "livin like larry"😂. You could have a really nice car. Someone here has beautiful long legs. For someone specific here, you are that girl/guy because you didn't allow a heartbreak to change you. You stayed strong and compassionate.

Extra confirmation: Competitive, Obsessive, Impulsive, Pretty skin/skin tone, Liar, Charming, Player, Dark-skin, Boss, Confident, Humble, Big butt, Trustworthy, Mixed signals

Channeled songs: Act up by City girls and Independent women pt.1 by Destiny's child

You've fought hard to get to the position that you're in today. The luxuries that you have did not come easy. I'm channeling the movies "The pursuit of happiness" and "The Wolf of Wall Street". You may have struggled a bit growing up. But you didn't let that define you. It took a lot of commitment to get where you are today. Someone here could work with stocks. I heard "business mogul". You like to remain optimistic and keep your options open. You're very kindhearted and uplifting to others. You are such a giver. Many people would consider you a "girls girl". Heavy water sign energy. People know that they can count on you for a good time. You have a very bold and confident personality. You walk into rooms like you own the place. Star energy. You're the kim k in your family/friend group lol. A lot of strangers assume that you're famous or some type of influencer. Someone here could wear afro-centric hairstyles.

Extra confirmation: Wifey energy, Trustworthy, Feline eyes, Introvert, Pretty eyes, Eccentric, One night stand, Younger woman, Charming, Cheater, Egotistical, Sister, Intoxicating, Funny

Channeled songs: P power by Gunna and Wife at home by Bryson Tiller

*ONLY TAKE WHAT RESONATES*

🌸Please DO NOT copy, repost, or steal my work! Thanks!🌸

*Credits to @anitalenia and @sultryana for the text dividers🩷*

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[kkukverse]

there you are

summary : Everyone he knows already found their mates and he is very anxious about his. Out of all scenarios he had imagined, it didn't cross his mind that his mate came into his house as the shy fried chicken delivery girl, under his big pet dog.

pair: alpha!jk x omega!reader (fem.reader)

genre: abo au

warnings & ratings : explicit sex scenes. 3k words of sex scene | fluff, smut 🔞 (minors dni)

word count: 15 k

author's notes: alpha!jk won the poll and here he is. hope you enjoy.

“Just like that?” Jungkook’s eyes are even wider now.

“Yup, we just locked eyes and we know. We’re each other’s mates.” Jimin smiles until his eyes are crinkled shut. Jungkook can almost feel him vibrating with happiness.

“Lucky,” Jungkook meant it but somehow there’s a tinge of jealousy in his voice and Jimin’s smile turns into a frown for his dear friend. 

“Your time will come, Jungkook. And I promise you that all this time you spent on waiting will be worth it.” coaxed Jimin. 

The younger boy just nodded with a smile. Jungkook believes in his destiny but he just wants to meet his mate now. Everyone around him already settled down with their mates and Jungkook longed for that. 

Jungkook is an alpha, and he is as busy as a bee. 

Working as a producer and videographer surely consumed his hours away. His work is mostly him working with computers, cameras and musical machines inside his big studios in the city. He is a very well known producer and lyricist amongst artists, so, Jungkook is rarely alone for most of the time. Everyone wants to meet him.

He is either meeting up with artists in his studio, recording with them, or he is out and about with his closest friends, making videos or directing music videos. With a packed schedule, he sometimes forgot to have a meal. Let alone a hearty one. 

When he's with his friends, they often go out eating together, but when he's all alone, he opts for fast food, like fried chickens. His friends always remind him to eat well. Jungkook couldn’t help but fantasize about a life where he would prepare a good warm meal for his mate, having another soul in his house, waiting for each other, eating together, very much like how his parents did for years. 

He’s not lonely per say, Jungkook has a handful of friends. He has a lot of acquaintances but he is picky about who he allowed into his life. To summarize, Jungkook is an ambivert. He can be outgoing, doing adventurous activities because he is such an adrenaline junkie. He too, can lock himself up in his own loft, playing with his fluffy husky. Fishing with Seokjin, or just walking alone in the park. 

Oh, yes! He loves the park partly because he gets to play with Bam. His Dobermann, a clever dog. 

Jungkook and his friends joke that Bam knows the time. Because every time, when it's the evening, Bam will always be ready, biting his harness and bouncing by the door. It's his walking time. Jungkook always bragged that Bam is such a genius, he can even remember people too and is very friendly. 

And right now his genius dog is pouncing a poor delivery girl right at his door! 

Jungkook noticed that she's an Omega! The alpha in him is eager to help her, afraid that she must be so scared. 

“Bam!” Jungkook begged as his wide eyes bulged at his dog licking the delivery girl's face. 

Bam is a pretty big dog, and this delivery girl is petite. Jungkook is a little embarrassed at how Bam is standing on his hind legs while putting his front paws on her shoulder. His size is swallowing the girl!

Jungkook felt like his soul was leaving his body the moment Bam jumped off the sofa as someone knocked on his door. And Bam just flew to the door right after he opened it.

Jungkook jumped forward and almost placed his hands on the girl's back when she tumbled as Bam was draping himself on her. She managed to straighten her back before Jungkook could catch her. A sigh of relief was heard. It was from her. 

Bam? His tail is wagging wildly as the girl's arms are helplessly encircling his muscular body.

Most people are terrified of big dogs, especially a breed like Bam, which is quite famous for its scary looks. Jungkook was aware of that when he walked with Bam. So he trained his dog diligently so it behaved in public. 

Jungkook even treats Bam like a normal dog by not cutting his ear or tail to make it look less intimidating. Jungkook has his ups and downs while training Bam. It was a bit of a task but he's a good boy. He was just a little excited.

But what caught Jungkook off guard was that the omega girl was giggling. The only smell wafting through his nose is bubblegum. Sweet, not distressed. Is not like he expected her to cry or scream but she must be uncomfortable.

“Bam! Get down.” Jungkook begged again. He grabs Bam’s body and pulls his heavy head from her shoulder. He whimpered cutely but Jungkook was embarrassed at his behavior. Jungkook is on his knees as Bam is now facing him.

“There we go, you're a good boy aren't you? Please don't hurt her. Hum?” Jungkook continues coaxing his dog. His hand caressed Bam’s back. The dog is sitting by his legs, yelping here and there but more softly now. Dobermann are very well known for energetic behaviour.

“Easy there,” Jungkook's voice is soothing, calming yet stern and unbeknownst to him, the delivery girl is biting her shy smile. 

Though he exudes the alpha aura and he smells like one, Jungkook's voice is not demanding. The shy omega is feeling a tug at her heart.

“I'm so sorry,” Jungkook said to her. He still cannot look at her yet as Bam is blocking the view. “He gets too excited sometimes.” 

Bam, being a cheeky boy, turns to face the girl. Tongue out sillily and Jungkook just sighs. This delivery girl must've been very tired and now she had to deal with Bam. 

The girl. How strange. Jungkook can smell her very strongly. Even as an alpha, his smelling sense is considered high with the addition that there's an omega present. But there's something about her that tells him to get closer. The gold in his eyes shines so bright as he stares at her. 

The girl just hummed. Her finger runs through the black and brownish fur on Bam’s head. Her pinkish eyes still fixated on the happy dog. Jungkook keeps petting him as a subtle sign to not allow Bam jump at her again. He rubs the back pocket of his dark jeans for his wallet. He wants to look at her but it seems like she is shying away, her hair covering half of her face as she looks at the floor. 

“I'm truly sorry about him.” Jungkook rubs at the back of his neck. Chuckling nervously because the delivery girl didn't say a word. 

“My name’s Jungkook,” He blurted out. It feels wrong to not introduce himself earlier. But it seems like fate is such a funny thing. 

He assumes she must be uncomfortable, and he is making her stand there awkwardly. So, he handed out the exact amount of money for his order. 

After she received the money, she bowed politely and bolted out of his house. Jungkook would like to think that maybe she's rushing to deliver to somewhere else instead of her rushing out because she's mad at him. She must be thinking that Jungkook is an incompetent dog owner.

The box of fried chicken is on the floor now. Still intact because before Bam jumped at her, she put it down gently. It was like she was expecting him to hug her and she's ready. 

It was a shame. Jungkook wanted to apologize properly. And his alpha in him has been whining since she stepped out of his house. Suddenly remembering Jimin’s love story. 

It is not possible, the moment was too short. Jungkook is trying to calm his rapid heart. 

The omega has teeny tiny hints of alpha smell on her. A low rumble coming from his throat before suppressing it by downing a glass of cold water.

The beating of your heart won’t calm down even after you keep patting your chest softly. You're feeling bittersweet as you walk out of the loft.

Out of nowhere, you feel sad and want to run back up again. To the smell that makes you feel like you're being coddled. A short glimpse of his flickering golden eyes, an alpha eye. His soothing alpha voice- 

Shaking your head, you bring your mind to the dog. The dog is so adorable and you wish you could play with it a bit longer. Today is so exhausting. At least the dog makes it a little better. Yes, you’re only thinking about the dog, not the man.

With the last order of the day, you thought you could drop by at your favorite bubble tea shop. But the vibration from your phone suggests otherwise.

Boss: Come pick up another set. The address is on the box. 

You let out a short sigh at the message from the owner of the fried chicken restaurant you're working at. Tiredness started to consume you. This is actually your second job. The first one is being a tutor. Life is a little harsh on you but you'll manage. 

After graduating a couple of years ago, you didn't get lucky in finding a solid, real stable job. Being an omega has its own cons. Employees are a bit apprehensive at hiring omegas into their company. Partially because omega is seen as a group of people that should be taken care of.

As traditional as that sounds, there are so many omegas breaking those stereotypes as well. You positively think you're unfortunate to fall on the little percentage of a docile omega group. 

You usually don't pass after the interviews, deeming that you're too soft spoken and quiet. So, to keep surviving in this city, you keep looking for odd jobs. Forget the biochemistry degree. What matters to you now is what job that can pay your bills and the big bad mountain of student debt. 

Min’s fried chicken has been your safe haven for the past year. 

They pay you well and Yoongi is a kind alpha. Always treating you well. Sometimes he's a little snappy but he meant well for everyone. It's a quaint restaurant, more like a mini restaurant where it specializes in just fried chicken.

Yoongi can open and close his restaurant anytime he wants as he once claimed that he didn't look for a crazy, blooming, wealthy business. He is a laid back alpha. Living a serene life with his mate. 

You get on your bike, put on your helmet and cycle away back to the restaurant. At the back of your mind you're thinking about the furry friend and the soft voice of its owner.

The alpha.

Your heart prickles at the thought of you being away from him. You're not sure why you feel this way. It was a short encounter and you just hope he’s having a good time with the chickens that you've delivered with care.

“Get in here kid,” the calm voice of your boss can be heard. He must be in the kitchen. After putting your helmet and the delivery bag on the front table, you scurry to the back of the restaurant. Yoongi doesn't like it when he has to wait.

“The boxes are stacked on the counter,” his back is facing the deep fryer with one hand on his hip, the other is busy putting the flour coated chickens on the basket. His head just tilted to show where the boxes of freshly fried chickens were. 

You didn't say much and just walked towards the neatly arranged boxes, reading the address that was stuck on top of them.

“You can rest after delivering these. I'm not taking orders for the rest of the day,” Yoongi said.

You tilted your head, wondering why.

“I'm accompanying my wife to visit my father in law today.” He explains. 

You look around and it dawns on you that his wife is not here. She usually will make you sit down and softly force you to eat something or just rest after delivering. She cares about you. His wife is like a big sister you never have. 

Yoongi throws out the black gloves into the bin before he slides a bottle of water on the counter to you in which you catch with a polite nod.

Yoongi smiles but you're not looking at him. You're a little sister to him. As an alpha, he wanted to protect you and his wife always needed to cuddle you when you come to work.

She would be rubbing herself on you, just to cover you with her scent and a hint of Yoongi’s scent. So no one can mess with their baby-sister-omega. His mates have this urge to keep you in her little pocket because you're shy and it’s borderline concerning sometimes when they cannot hear your voice for a whole day. 

When you walk into his restaurant, very timid but determined to work, he doesn't have the heart to say no. It was his father and his wife who insisted on employing you. Yoongi wasn't sure where he needed you in his little restaurant. 

You cannot be a waitress because you barely speak, and you can't cook because it's Yoongi’s job. So, he suggested you deliver the food and you're smiling wide, telling him you have your own bicycle. 

Yoongi winced at that because you're gonna have to work really hard if you're cycling. At least he has a good reason to buy a scooter for you to use. But sometimes you’re comfortable with cycling for the nearby customers. Although you never complained, he and his wife are always worried for you when you're going out all alone. 

They learned to trust you in society but they are very aware that they cannot trust strangers around you easily. They can't help their protective instincts too. You have no one in this city. Families are living in different states, miles away. Friends? Yoongi will give out chickens for free for a day, if you said you have a friend. 

This kid is as alone as a deserted ship, sailing in a big bad world all by herself. Yoongi thought. 

Yoongi is worried about you, not only you're his worker but he feels responsible for your safety. Sometimes you forget to eat, sometimes he can see that you looked dehydrated, working too hard under the blazing sun. 

He knows you worked hard but you refuse to be taken lightly. Yoongi is proud of you and so is his beloved, she is always you this and you that. The maternal smell of his wife is so prominent every time she's thinking about you. You're a special kid to his small family. 

“How’s today?” Yoongi asked. “Not so tough?” Usually Yoongi is the one who doesn't speak much in his circle of friends. But with you, he has to initiate or else no one will speak a word.

“I met a dog,” you smile.

“Dog?”

You hum while making a big gesture with your arms. “So big and adorable.” You nod at him.

He chuckles. “You like big dogs huh?” 

“Yea. There's one back in my hometown.” Your voice is loud now, an indication that you're getting comfortable.

Yoongi observes you so well. When you're in a new environment, you hide in your shell, your pink omega eyes always downcast but sometimes open wide when you see something that interests you. Or when you're coming back from delivering, it usually takes some time for you to warm up. Yoongi has no idea why you are so closed up but as long as he can make you feel safe in your workplace, he is relieved. 

“An alpha, Jung,,Jungkook?” You said softly as Yoongi checked on the chickens in the fryer. Saying the name out loud triggered your memory of his warm smile, melodious voice and his perfect round, and golden eyes.

Yonggi also has a pair of golden eyes, but Jungkook’s are different. You regretted that you were too shy to observe his mesmerizing eyes.

“Who?” He asked.

“The owner of the big dog, the customer. His name is Jungkook.” You answered.

“What about him? You remember a customer now, you usually don't,” he teased while shaking the basket to let the excess oil drip down. “These chickens are for you by the way. Eat them after you deliver those boxes, okay. My wife will hit me if she found out I starved you. I'll pack them up for you.” Yoongi nags. He wants to make sure you have something in your stomach before you go home. 

“I hope they're still warm by the time you're done with delivering,” Yoongi taps his chin. Mumbles to himself but you can hear him just fine. 

“I like his voice, and he smells… like something I used to smell.” You bluntly said. Earning a snort from Yoongi. Another thing about you is you're straightforward. 

“How so?” He asked. Very intrigued as you rarely talk about customers. You’re sensitive to smell, you once winced if there’s a strong smell from the customers. 

“He smells like fresh wood in the mountains. Like back in my hometown.” With furrowed brows you speak. “It's weird, there's no mountain in this city.”

Yoongi's brows shoot up. You never discussed smell before. When omegas start to think about smell, it usually indicates that they are attracted to somebody. Interesting. 

“Okay, let's hope he'll order more from now on,” Yoongi shakes his head. He needs his wife to consult him in moments like this. His wife can have a girl to girl talk with you. 

Back in the loft, Bam is sprawling on the floor as Jeon Jungkook is sticking Min’s Chicken advertisement sticker on his refrigerator. With a maker circling the number, and he wrote a little note on it.

“The shy delivery girl” 

His hand snatched a bubble gum candy from the candy bowl on the dining table. He has such a sweet tooth. He’s trying to trigger the same feeling he felt when smell you.

Sweet, and soft.

Jungkook is drowning in work. The last time he had a decent meal was days ago. It is clear that he's been staying at his studio instead of going home. His ‘devotion’ to work has an effect on a certain creature too, Bam. 

Bam is getting grumpier day by day as the two are stuck in the same space. 

Being the active dog he is, Bam has his own designated area in Jungkook's studio. It was decently spacious but dogs like him wanted to run on the field. Dogs wanted to feel the breeze, want to stick out their tongue and be free. Bam has been whining to get Jungkook’s attention. 

Jungkook noticed Bam was getting a little sad as he slumped on his paws. Close enough to his big chair by the sound system. He felt guilty. Bam has involuntarily stuck with him for days now. Sometimes staying indoors for too long can make Jungkook feel groggy and moody, too.

If he feels sluggish imagining how boring it is for Bam. At least Jungkook can keep himself busy. Bam is just a dog.

It's just that Jungkook must finish this song because he promised Jimin he can record it next week. Jimin is an indie musician who also happens to be his very best friend as well. Jimin had been consulting with him on his new single and Jungkook wanted to give him a piece of his touch into his music.

This must be done before next week. Though Jungkook is almost finished, he keeps coming back to where he started, because he is such a perfectionist.

It's for his best friend, of course he wanted it to be the best. Jungkook wasn't called the youngest and the most promising producer of the decade for nothing. 

Jungkook gives him an apologetic smile but Bam just whimpers sadly. This cannot be. He thought. So, Jungkook slaps his thighs to excite Bam. Much to his pleasure, Bam barks and circles his chair with his tongue out, his tail thumping the wooden floor. Jungkook laughs along at his antics. Bam is too precious! 

The moment they step outside of his studio, it's Bam that drags Jungkook. With his size, sometimes the buffy gym rat Jungkook can easily stumble forward.

“Easy there, Bam.” Jungkook chuckles. “The park isn't running away from you.” 

The dog just barks excitedly after he hears the word park.

Jungkook just shakes his head. With his hand securely gripping the leash, he slowly pulled Bam, to move together at a slower pace.

At the park, Bam forgets Jungkook as he rushes to his favorite sun spot. Jungkook just sighs and lets him as there's not many people and small kids around. Jungkook would've been on guard if Bam was running excitedly when people were around.

Dogs can be very scary especially if they are not trained properly. Jungkook wants to be and is a good citizen in this neighborhood. He is always careful about bringing Bam into public space. As he was on guard, he heard a squeal.

His heart almost dropped. 

“Hey, you!” 

He heard the squeal coming from behind the tree, where Bam was gone. He’s rushing to the spot. Afraid of his dog attacking someone or something. Suddenly, a sweet, soft scent of bubblegum is dancing in the air. Scrunching his brows Jungkook moves slowly and closer to the voice, the owner of the familiar smell. 

He can also hear Bam huffing and he can hear the jingles from his harness. Jungkook is guessing that Bam is either rolling on the ground or chasing after something. He was ready - not really- for some shocking revelation. But what surprises him is Bam is laying his head on someone's lap. 

He acted like a small puppy as the person was rubbing his belly. He was astounded and relieved at the same time. In a millisecond, Jungkook recognized this woman.

Albeit short but he remembers the red shirt, the soft chuckles, the flowy hair and her sweet scent. The bubblegum smell. The omega that’s been on his mind lately.

The delivery girl! You.

Jungkook feels like he will intrude on the serene situation. You were sitting with your back on the tree, your black jeans and the fried chicken restaurant work shirt. The first time you met, Bam was all over you and Jungkook can barely look at you properly let alone apologize. Right now he can see you, truly.

You're giggling and your tiny hands are busy running through Bam’s fur. The said dog accepts the treatment with his whole big heart. His tongue jutted out and started drooling on your laps but you're unfazed. Jungkook winced at his dog’s silliness. 

“Bam,” he whispers. But he realizes he was loud when you suddenly snapped your head to him. 

Gosh your wide eyes, they're so pink. So mesmerizing. Jungkook gulps. All omegas have the same eye color but yours are so different, it’s like luring him to you.

You slowly raised your hands from Bam, the dog whined at the loss as he tilted his head to you and Jungkook. 

“It’s him! The alpha!” You thought. You feel a sudden warm rush in your cheeks. Forget butterflies, there’s a whole zoo in your stomach. The rush feeling somehow turns to embarrassment.

What if this alpha is annoyed because you’re playing with his dog without his permission?

“Hi, Jungkook. Sorry for playing with your dog.” You said while avoiding eye contact with him. Recognizing the submissive behavior from you, his heart fell. To comfort you.

He is guessing that you were shocked to be seen this way. Jungkook wanted to show you that he is not angry that you're playing with his dog. 

Jungkook immediately replied, “Yes, but you can play with him. I'm okay as long as you're okay. You’re okay, right? Bam is okay for you to play with, right? I mean Bam is not, not okay. I’m,,yeah. Everything is okay,” Jungkook bites his own tongue. Way too excited, buddy.

“Wait,” he adds. “You remember me?” At this point, Jungkook feels like dancing. 

You just nod and smile politely. Jungkook frowned at that because just now he can see your big grin and now he's thinking that he is creeping you out. Granted, you're an omega and he is an alpha. It's natural for you to be timid but Jungkook doesn't want him to come off as scary to you. 

“I didn't mean to steal him away,” your voice is soft and he almost couldn't catch them. You're not even looking at him so Jungkook inches closer. He is still wary as you might not want him close to your space. But seeing that you're not flinching, he thought that it was okay. 

“I don’t mind. Bam likes you. Can I sit here?” Jungkook suddenly feels bad because you straighten your back and he almost wants to be on his knees and tell you that he means no harm. Jungkook doesn't know who you are, yet, but you seem so shy. 

You stiffened at his presence but you allowed him to sit closer. Heck, you even scooted a little so he can be under the tree shades, protected from the evening sun.

You were on your break. After delivering an order to one of the groups that is having a picnic here, you thought it's a good idea to just stay for a while and just sit down.

You almost fell asleep as you're sitting so cozily by the tree before you were almost trampled on by a big dog. But you recognized the dog almost immediately. It was one of the customer’s, Jungkook.

Of course you remember him. Jungkook, the guy who ordered a dozen of mixed fried chickens and marinated wings, lives in the loft, whom you delivered his order to weeks ago.

The alpha with your favorite scent - the mountains smell. He reminds you of your hometown. A place of comfort and peace.

Shamelessly, you were waiting for Yoongi’s wife to tell you to deliver to Jungkook’s house. Yoongi said you were brooding.

But he's here now. And you're freaking out.

Jungkook thinks you don't want him near.

“The chickens were the best I ever had, by the way. Even Bam wanted to steal them,” Jungkook said, lighting up the atmosphere. He's glad you're smiling now. Though it might be because of Bam cozying himself on your lap. 

“My boss, he cooked them. I'm just the delivery girl.” Your voice is muffled by the sound of Bam yelping. Why is this dog always stealing Jungkook's moment?!

“Bam really likes you. He’s not usually like this with people,” Jungkook chuckles. His hand ruffled Bam’s fur. Despite his intimidating look, Bam is a careful dog. He doesn’t get comfortable easily with anyone.

“Does he now?” you cooed at Bam. “Why did you stop ordering from us?” You asked timidly. A part of you thinks that's a rude question but another part of you just wanted to know. You have been waiting for him.

Jungkook widened his eyes. He doesn't know why but he feels a tinge of guilt? He has no idea you're waiting for his order?! If he knew he ordered them straight to his studio. He is yelling at himself right now.

“I didn't know you were waiting for my order?” He cheekily smirks at you. Tilting his head to face you with a palm supporting his head. Slowly inching himself closer to you. He did not want to scare you off. 

You took some time to say something. Finger twiddling with Bam's Collar.

“My boss asked, not me.” You mumble quickly. What a lie. Yoongi’s the one telling you Jungkook might be busy, which is why he forgot to order.

“My bad, I’m busy working. And I didn't know if you'd deliver it to my workplace.” Jungkook chuckles at your flustered expressions. Though you're not facing him, he can see your side profile very well. Why are you hiding? He thinks you're so cute. 

“I can deliver it to you wherever you are,” you bravely said. Honestly, you yourself don’t know where that comes from. 

“What can I do to make it up?” Jungkook asked.

“If you asked me, I'd say keep ordering from us. My boss is a good man. It'll be good for his business.” You answered and this time you're looking at him. Not in his eyes, yet. But you're turning your face to him. And Jungkook is blushing.

“I can do that, but it has to be you who delivers them to me, okay?” Jungkook laughs at your honesty. 

“Okay, as long as he is there too.” You bop the dog’s nose. 

“Bam, his name is Bam. I believe Bam will be over the moon when his favorite delivery girl comes.” Jungkook squished his dog’s face. 

You both didn’t realize it was late evening as the two of you chats. You both part ways after a call from Yonggi’s wife. She was worried. Jungkook and Bam accompanied you to your bike.

He kept waving until you were out of his sight. 

Jungkook is on a producing sprint. He's suddenly rushed with a creative mood ever since he met you. The short conversations with you was all he needed to write up to three songs.

The meeting at the park made him blush and he ran back to his studio, overflowing with a melody stuck in his head.

It's been a week and it is safe to say that Jungkook has been ordering from you almost every day now. He still feels jittery as he places his orders, bouncing his legs up and down as he waits.

As if Bam can sense his nervousness, and the dog just didn't help much by howling and circling at the door. Waiting for you. 

When you arrive, Bam will perk up and pant with his tongue out and Jungkook's heart is thumping in his chest. That's your effect on them.

“Do you really like chickens that much?” You once asked. 

Little did you know that Jungkook keeps ordering because he wanted to see his muse? The omega that he feels the need to love and care for? Instead of admitting to that, he sheepishly agreed to your question. 

“This is the third song and I didn't realize I'm writing about her. Again. Bam, what is going on with me?” He stares at the dog. The dog completely ignores him as his paws are busy rolling a ball. 

Jungkook gets up and stretches, feeling his back is getting stiff from sitting for quite some time. 

“Bam, should I get her number? Is it weird?” Jungkook dragged his feet and lay down next to Bam. He was tired. All he thinks about is the girl in her red shirt.

“I love fried chicken, but I love it even more now because she delivered them to me,” Jungkook pouted. As if the dog would understand him. Jungkook stares at the dobermann, seeking confirmation or anything.

Bam just yelps and Jungkook claps his hands once. “Let's meet her, you're a genius Bam!”

He decided to not order today. 

“You cannot expect him to eat fried chicken every day, kid.” Yoongi pulled out a chair and sat next to his wife. You were plopping your head on the table. You let his wife play with your hair. 

“Let her be Yoongi,” his wife whispered to him. Softly patting your head, the neat braids are tied perfectly.

Yoongi and his wife think you're upset because of a certain customer (The one with the dog). Truthfully, you don't know what you're feeling. Jungkook doesn't order for one day and you're feeling...sad. 

“I need to get ready for my tutor class,” you muttered silently. Yoongi's wife frowned at him. Yoongi shrugged, and didn't know what to do. Seeing his wife patting your back as you're getting up, Yoongi lets out a sigh. 

You stand at the door with your backpack and the other hand is carrying your helmet. You stand at the glass door as if you're waiting for something, a few seconds gone by, Yoongi nudged his wife, jutting out his lower lips pointing at you. His wife glares back at him. 

“You should've comforted her,” she whispered. 

He shakes his head, raising his hands in surrender. “I'm bad at this.” 

“Just, be safe. Okay? Later, when you're free, we should go on ladies' outings.” His wife said, still sending glares to the husband. Seriously, Yoongi should've said something uplifting. But Yoongi's being real. She knows that too. “Just the two of us,” she winked at you as you turned around to look at her.

“Okay. Bye everyone.” At least your lip is twitching upward. A shy smile sweetly adorning your face. Yoongi and his wife can feel the gloomy atmosphere in the room dissipated. 

After you're out of the restaurant, at your second job of the day, Yoongi sat with his wife. “What’s with the kid today?” Yoongi asked.

“She won't tell me either. We just treat her gently. She's a sensitive soul.” His wife turns to him, lightly patting his bottom.

“My guess is that it's about the alpha boy she told you about. I think she might be clueless and oblivious with her omega needs. No one taught her stuff when she came of age. I feel so bad for her.” His wife continues. 

“You can teach the kid,” Yoongi plopped his head on his wife's shoulder. She's re-arranging the things on the counter.

She elbowed her husband. “Let's do it together. You're an alpha and you can give us an insight?” His wife giggled. Feeling Yoongi's hands are slowly creeping down her waist. 

His wife always knows the best so Yoongi listens to her. All the time.

“The kid found her alpha, what's there to teach?” Yoongi mumbles. A part of him feels sad like a brother watching his baby sister grow up. Of course his beloved can sense that too.

“I hope her alpha is a good man. She deserves all the good things anyone can offer. I know you're protective of her like she's a pup, but when she's sad, try to encourage her a little. Okay?” Her hands cupped on his plumpy cheeks. Leaving a kiss on his nose, earning a whine from him when she pulls away.

“Hello. Sorry, I hope I’m not interrupting,” a voice from the front door startled Yoongi. The man instantly stands straight like the alpha he is. When in reality everyone in the shop saw how mushy he was with his mate. Yoongi just grumbles, mumbling something.

“My name is Jungkook,” 

“Oh,” Yoongi's eyes widened at his wife. Because that name is awfully familiar as he always heard you giggle when his wife told you Jungkook had ordered. Yoongi crossed his arms on his chest, puffing up to look more muscular and bigger. “So, you’re Jungkoo-”

“Hi, Jungkook! What can we get you? His name is Yoongi, I’m his wife.” His wife breaks him mid sentence, she pinches his side as a sign to usher him to the back of the shop.

She feels the need to introduce themselves to your mate. After all, he’s family now. “Order?” She asked once again. 

“Actually, I’m looking for the delivery girl,” Jungkook laughed awkwardly. Afraid that he is being unethical by suddenly barging in to see their worker. 

“Oh, sweetie, she just left.” Yoongi’s wife calmly explained. She noticed how Jungkook’s smile faltered. Cooing inside as she finally met your mate. She already sensed that he is a good guy. “But what can we tell her on your behalf?” 

“Umm, I don’t know if this is appropriate, but can I have her number?”

“Absolutely no!” Yoongi yells from the kitchen.

“Yes, don’t mind him. He’s a little protective of our worker. She's our only worker.” Yoongi’s wife sheepishly waved her hand. Grabbing a piece of paper and she jotted down your phone number on it. 

“She’s our kid sister!” Yoongi feels the need to threaten Jungkook that there is another alpha and his mate looking after you, so he better not mess up. Jungkook swallows hard, feeling like he’s meeting a brother-in-law. 

He gets it now, the soft alpha scent on you was Yoongi. You’re in his pack, so it's normal for Yoongi to behave like this. He’s an alpha too, of course he understands Yoongi.

“There you go, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you, she talks a lot about you.” Yonggi’s wife politely said. It’s a contrasting reaction from Yoongi. But, Jungkook is glad that aside from him, you have people caring for you. 

Jungkook blushed at the last statement from the female omega. His hand firmly gripped on the piece of paper, with your number on it.

There’s no need for you to be nervous, because you’ve been here before. Really, you shouldn’t be nervous. Instead of standing still at the entrance of the apartment you've been to so many times, why don't you just ring his bell and inform him of your arrival. He can allow you up. Like you've done so many times before. 

Clammy hands gripping the end of your floral printed blouse, the one Yoongi's wife bought you. Such a good texture, even when your tight knuckles are crumpling it, the blouse still looks fine.

“Okay. Just press his bell,” you muttered to yourself. The apartment’s guard is sitting behind his desk, smiling encouragingly at your tense body. He recognized you.

Even if you're not wearing your usual red shirt. Whatever reason you're here, he's cheering for you. You've always been so polite, greeting him shyly. People like him, the guard, are always invincible. But he feels seen with your small “hello” and “have a nice day”.

He nods at you. “Do you need help?”

“No. I'm good,” you curtly replied. Feeling ashamed of yourself if you told him you're too shy to press the bell.

With one deep breath. You press the bell.

The light on top of the button turned green. Great. One step done! Now walk into the elevator like you always do. You can literally do it with your eyes closed. Just press the loft button and you'd be there in a second.

The ride on the elevator is pretty quick but today it feels even quicker! You barely prepared yourself mentally and now you're already in front of his door. If today is any other day you'd knock on his door. But now, the door is already wide open! He is already waiting for you with his dog barking excitedly. Today is not any usual fried delivery day. 

Today, Jungkook invited you over to his house for dinner! 

“Come in,” Jungkook said in between his beautiful giggles as he calmed Bam down. The said dog is ready to pounce on you like he always did.

Jungkook noticed the nervous expression on your face completely change as you grinning at the dog. You went straight to ruffle the dog as you stepped into the loft.

Bam really is the cupid. The smell of sweet bubblegum instantly kissed his nose and his alpha instinct is purring at how this smell will stay for a while in his nest!

“You've been here before, but, yea welcome to my humble abode,” Jungkook dramatically waved his hand. A part of him wanted to show off how he's been cleaning and rearranging the house all day.

The kitchen area looks lively with the music coming from there, the sizzling sound on the cooking counter, not to forget the scrumptious smell that makes you salivating so bad. 

“It's a very lovely house,” you said. Approvingly nodding your head. The pink of your eyes are glimmering as you take in everything. Usually when you delivered his order, you'd shy away and just leave.

Even Jungkook keeps telling you to be comfortable and just rest for a while - because he's been talking with Yoongi - you politely refuse and are always so honest with your work. Jungkook is so proud of his mate.

“I wanna bring something but you said not to.” You lightly scratch the back of your ears. You remember how sweet he was when he called you. You almost walked to a glass door at one of your students' apartments. 

Ever since he got your number, Jungkook is not shying away as he often texted you. Aside from you coming to deliver his order, he makes sure you arrived home safely, sending you good morning and goodnight wishes. At one point he just proposed to you to come over. Said that this time, he wanted to cook for you. 

“I‘m already happy you’re here. I don’t need anything else. Let me take care of you,” Jungkook chuckles. He is standing facing the pan as he tossed the food in it. Unconsciously, you were smiling from ear to ear during the whole scene. 

“After all, what kind of person am I if I’m not taking care of my mate, hum?” He continues, turning back to you and the golden glimmer of his eyes are so enchanting. 

Mate. 

No matter how many times you heard of the word you can never help the rush of heat on your cheeks. You have no idea how to feel when you’re supposed to meet your mate. No one told you how to act, what to do when it happened or even what to say. So when Jungkook broke it up to you, your very first reaction was “oh, what do I do now?” 

Jungkook is very patient. The very first date was a waffle date. It was short because you’re rushing to tutoring. But Jungkook was fine with it, he’s the one that initiated every text and call. Because, you’re a silly mate, you forgot you have a mate. Jungkook just chuckles when you apologize to him. Yoongi said you’re naive and innocent. He said it’s fine, nothing’s wrong with being innocent. 

Your thoughts were interrupted as Jungkook put down your plate in front of you before he put his down. 

“I tried,” he shyly confessed.

“You did better than me. I can’t cook.” You said. 

“I’ll cook for you forever, don’t worry.”

“There you are, pretty girl.” Jungkook muttered to himself. Chuckling as he strides faster to you. Seeing you standing all alone under the tree. On this cold night with no coat or scarf! Jungkook winced. You must be so cold and he is so mad at himself for not finding you sooner. 

After your official visit, Jungkook didn’t hesitate to call you. Ever since that, with you constantly delivering his chickens, in which he ordered just to have them with you in his house, an excuse to spend time with you.

Jungkook comes clean to Yoongi that he’s been stealing your time but the older guy just waved it off, saying that ‘at least she came home safe’

He should’ve learned by now that you're a little straightforward. He should've mentioned where specifically he'd be waiting for you. Instead he just said. “Near the rolling skating avenue.”. He was waiting at the big tree, where there's a food cart under it. 

Luckily he can spot you first. Heads turn to search for him, but you’re not mad at all. Smiling at him the moment your eyes caught his figure. 

All of the worry by seeing you shivering is only amplified as he can see you're rubbing your arms up and down. Silly girl! Why are you wearing something so thin?

“Hey,” without much thought Jungkook immediately took off his scarf, encircling the thick maroon scarf on your neck. Covering your chin, making your eyes and nose peeking out. Jungkook smiles endearingly at the sight. 

Your cheeks are freezing when he cupped your face. Checking you once again and he winces seeing that your nose is runny as you keep sniffing and the pink eyes that he adores the most are glassy.

Jungkook tutted his tongue. You look like you're a second away from catching high fever. 

Pulling out his gloves he engulfed your hands in his. Rubbing them together, trying to heat them up. Not truly satisfied, Jungkook blows warm breath on them. 

“Why are you wearing so thinly? It's freezing out here.” Jungkook frowned but his eyes softened at your dry lips. Unknowingly he smacked his own lips, feeling the sticky balm that he applied on just before he saw you.

He can just offer his chapstick but his mind betrays him. If he just muster up his courage and lean closer, maybe planting his lips on yours-  

“I just got back from tutoring. I didn't realize it's gonna be cold.” You're squeezing his hands. You don't want him to be tense because you're reckless.

The way Jungkook is fussing over you is making you smile like an idiot. You never know how nice it is to have someone to care for you, especially when that person is fated to be yours. 

Yoongi and his wife take care of you well too, but Jungkook is different. How he tutted his tongue as he fixed your bangs, how he immediately wrapped you so you can be warm. Nothing is stopping you now.

So you kissed him. It was a poor attempt as your lips landed at the end of his mouth. “Oops, sorry.” 

Because of the height difference, you’re awkwardly tiptoeing and the instant warmth from his lips is making you squeal from the inside. This is nice.

Meanwhile Jungkook’s brain short circuited. The sudden act widened his eyes and in a millisecond it happened he missed your lips already. 

“You missed, let’s do it again. Please.” Jungkook laughed softly, getting bold now as he wrapped his arms around your waist. Pulling you even closer to the point of sharing one breath. 

This time, Jungkook made the move. What started as a touch of lips, suddenly turned braver as he tipped your head with a finger on your chin, granting him easy access to fully locked on your lips. Easily guiding you to open with a gentle nip on your lower lips. With a shy gasp you allowed him and the way your tongue and his tongue are dancing together is making you feel electric all over your body. This is so nice!

Unknowingly you grip hard on his shirt and your little squeal is driving Jungkook wild. Cupping your cheeks he pulled away and laughed at your pout. As if that wasn’t enough. 

“Silly, you could've called or texted me that you wanted to wait somewhere warm.” He sighs. “It's not fair.”

“What's not fair?” Raising your brows you stare at him, confused.  

“You're making me think about you all the time, worry about you and now I'm nagging at you.” Jungkook fixing your hair behind the scarf. 

“I didn't mean to, I'm sorry.” 

“No, no. When I said it's not fair, I didn't mean it in a bad way,” he pulled your hands on top of his arm. Together you walked to the nearest cafe. Where he can order you something warm.

“I actually planned on taking you to ice skating, you know.” Jungkook said as he placed your warm cup of chocolate and his latte on the table. A pretty slice of matcha crepe cake makes your eyes glimmer. Jungkook notices it and he grins. Adding it on his mental note of your likes and dislikes. 

“I never skate.” You laugh at the imagination of you falling down, landing on your bum. 

“Lucky you, I'm the best.” He puffed up his chest. “But some pretty girl forgot to wear thick clothes today. So, I'm thinking roller skating is for our next date.” Jungkook smirks, watching you hide your smile while swirling the spoon, dissolving the marshmallows on the chocolate drink. 

Pretty girl? Me?! you thought. “Next date,” you mumble. He caught that.

“Next date. Promise,” he leans over the table to land a kiss on your lips, he couldn’t resist it. You’re too cute.

Yoongi is tired. Last night he went back to his wife's hometown because his father in law fell ill. And he rushed back home to open up his restaurant. Much to his dismay. His favorite worker, the only delivery girl, fell ill as well.

“Fucking cold weather.” He grumbles. Suddenly blaming the weather for making people sick. Now, he's not sure what to do. He can just pack up and close the restaurant for the day. It's not like it's gonna be a big loss. He opened this business as a side job. His real income is writing. Texting the group chat which consists of him, his wife and you. 

Boss : kid, how bad is your cold?

you: bearable. I can come clock in for today.

Boss’s wife : nonsense! You, stay home! Yoongi, come home too. Don't open the restaurant today.

you: okay boss

Boss: i’m your boss

you: you are?

Boss: Look at this kid! Getting braver now since you're going out with Jeon.

Jungkook: how are you feeling today?

you: yeah, Jungkook because it makes me feel safe and brave. :p

No reply from Yoongi. You thought he must be busy closing up. 

Jungkook: I'm very happy to read that, sweetheart. 

A moment of silence passed before you let out the loudest gasp you ever heard coming from your mouth. You thought you replied to Yoongi but you're actually replying to Jungkook!

You're so embarrassed beyond words right now. How are you going to say anything back to him?

Meanwhile Jungkook is blushing red. Kicking his feet up in the air as he rolls down the clean rug in his room. After working for a few hours on a new song for a recording company, Jungkook feels like he needs to text you.

Considering how the date went last night, he just wanted to make sure you're not catching cold. But your reply caught him off guard. 

Jungkook feels like his heart swells and it almost bursts as he keeps reading your words. Jungkook makes me feel safe and brave. 

Oh, how he wanted to hug you right now. Bam noticed his human was so happy, he started to bounce along.

Your face heats up and you're biting your lips. You have to reply or else he'd think you're being weird. You are so weird! You thought to yourself. 

Jungkook: As much as I want you to elaborate on that text, I also wanted to know your wellbeing. Did you catch a cold? Are you working today?

This. This is why Jungkook makes you feel safe. He is caring and attentive to your needs. Despite just getting to know each other, he cares for you.

you: i'm not working today. I don't feel very well. But I'll get better soon. 

A few moments passed without his reply and you decided to take a cold shower to eliminate the heat. The cold sweat on your forehead and your back is making you feel so sticky.

Laying down on the couch is making your neck ache as well. You stood up to soothe the ache but you stood up too fast. It makes you very dizzy.

You keep blinking your eyes as you can only see blackspots. It's scary and you start to whimper. With your hand steadying yourself by the wall, you took a deep breath.

Sickness is common, since you're sensitive to cold weather, but it feels like it is coming in tenfold. Like a heavy boulder is on your chest as you breath shakily. 

The trip from the living room to the shower feels like miles away. You're living in a tiny flat house. Kitchen, living room and shower are just a few feet apart.

You're really sleepy, maybe after a shower you'll take a nap. 

The cold water from the shower head hits the tiles, after you twist the handle, though the sound is muffled in your ears. The cold is messing up with everything. It feels like a huge cotton ball stuck in your ears. The ringing just won't stop. With blurry eyes you pulled it together to drag your feet into the shower. 

Yes. Just a splash and then you can have a nice nap on your cozy bed. All you can see and feel is the water hitting your face, the cold walls, and suddenly it's all blank.

“Wake up! Baby! Come on. Shit! Oh god!” 

A frantic voice is all you hear but you're so tired to open your eyes and your mouth. 

“You're scaring me, baby! Please, please, open your eyes!” 

You're focusing on the voice, but the first thing that hits you first is his alpha scent. Unlike the familiar mountain smell, this smell is strong. He smells very distressed and panicked. Jungkook is panicking and you're fighting so hard to hold him, to lean to him.

You're trying to utter a word but everything that comes out from your mouth is groaning and soft whimper. That only spikes Jungkook’s protective sense even higher. With a pained expression, he swept your wet hair from your forehead, running his hand on your head. Peppering kisses all over your cold face. 

He is petrified at your blue-ish lips. Bringing your face to his neck, hoping his scent can bring you warmth. Oh, his heart literally dropped when he found you laying down under the running water. God knows how long you've been in that state.

He's guessing this happened the moment after your last text. Which was almost half an hour ago.

Jungkook feels like screaming, seeing you, his omega, helplessly on the cold floor. You could get hypothermia or something! His heart is still not calming down.

After turning off the water he pulled you up onto his laps. He didn't care how wet his pants were right now. He got to make sure you're conscious first. 

He carries you gently out of the cold shower. Frantically eyeing up any sort of towel or blanket to cover your naked body. The last thing he can do now is expose your body to the cold. The big blanket on your bed is what Jungkook manages to snatch before he wraps it on your body. 

“Can you hear me? Humm?” Jungkook speaks softly. He felt bad when he shouted the moment he saw you, him panicking just now must've shocked you. Lightly caressing your cheeks, he calls your name again and again.

Jungkook was about to call for an ambulance but he heard a broken whimper, his heart pains even more. 

He rubbed your head in hope to alleviate any discomfort, feeling a slight relief and your fingers are getting warmer. 

“Jungkook,” you said weakly. Your eyes flutter open. You're feeling dazed and starting to mumble incoherently in between his name. 

“Shh, I'm here. Let's go to the hospital, hum?” He asked. His fingers keep massaging your scalp. The heat from your body slowly rises as you're no longer wet. Jungkook is anxious yet so gentle when he's rubbing your body with a towel. 

“You have a fever, baby.” He tutted. 

“No hospital, please.” You whined. You don’t like hospitals. It is the last place you wanted to be. “Stay here.”

“You sure? Your body is like a furnace.” He palms his hand on your forehead, leaning closer as  leave a kiss on the scorching skin.

“Jungkook,” you whine, your hand is crumpling his shirt with your fist. With your eyes still shut, you depend on your nose to look for him. When you feel like he is too far away when in fact he is sitting on the bed, very close to you.

For some reason he is too far. That makes you rake out sad sobs. 

“Hey, what's wrong?” Jungkook frowns at the distress scent coming from you. His carnal instinct is whimpering, begging him to do something, to calm the omega laying beside him.

“Jungkook, don't go.” 

Jungkook cooed as your tears started streaming down your eyes. Instantly he wipes them. “I’m not going anywhere.” He patted the side of your head, hoping it'll calm you down. 

For someone smaller than him, and obviously weak at this moment, your fist is tightly gripping on him. As if you're not letting him go even an inch away from you. 

Jungkook leans over and suddenly you pull him, circling your arms on his neck. Jungkook was taken aback and luckily he didn't fall onto you, he managed to hold himself up with his arms planted by each of your sides. 

What is even more surprising is you're nuzzling on his neck. Searching for his scent. In just a second he heard you're letting out a relieved sigh and the distress scent of yours is slowly disappearing.

Being this close, almost chest to chest, Jungkook can hear your heartbeat beating calmly. You're purring under him and it took him a million ounces to restrain himself from crushing you. You're too adorable!

“There you go, my sweetheart.” Jungkook chuckles lightly, if he knows this is the remedy, he'd hug you tightly a lot sooner. 

After he makes sure you're asleep, he slowly gets up from the uncomfortable sitting position. His back is screaming but at least you're no longer crying. The creaking on your bed makes him flinch. But your nakedness under the blanket is what worries him more. 

His eyes fell on the neatly folded clothes near the bed. A smile creeping up his face, he never entered your house and seeing how clean it is, he feels a sense of pride.

After he managed to dress you in a shirt and pajama pants that he found, he noticed that your bed had too many pillows. The way you arranged them and how fluffy they looked, it’s like a little nest.

Jungkook's thoughts were interrupted by the vibrations of his phone. It was Yoongi.

“Hey, how's she?” Yoongi asked. Jungkook can also hear his wife's voice. “I told you we should go see her,” she mumbles at the back. Yoongi was just silent, waiting for Jungkook to answer him.

“I found her in the shower. Under it to be exact. I think she passed out while showering but she's okay now. Sleeping.” Jungkook answered as his other hand was placing a pot on the stove. 

“Oh god. She passed out in the shower?” Yoongi's wife gasped so loud, snatching the phone from her husband. “Jungkook! How is she now?! Oh thank god I gave you the key Jungkook,” her worried tone makes Jungkook think of his mom.

“She's awake though a bit dazed, but she refused to go to the hospital. I'm making her something to eat.” At the mention of the key, Jungkook feels a rush of relief in his body.

When he texted Yoongi about you, the later man said that you're not coming to work today. His wife pushed Jungkook to come and pick your spare key from her. She said someone should check on you. 

Here he is now, thankful for Yoongi's wife.

“Oh she hates hospitals. But, Jungkook. There's something you should know.” Yoongi's wife said in a hushed tone. Earning herself a stare from Yoongi. She wasn't his mate in just a day, she knows he still thinks you are under his care which he shouldn't. Because you have found your alpha. And he is taking care of you now.

“Yeah?” Jungkook asked. Halting his search in your refrigerator. 

“I think she is in pre-heat. She usually is around this time.”

Jungkook's eyes widened at the statement. It makes all sense now. The fever, the nesting and her calling him alpha. The reason why Jungkook couldn’t smell her heat scent was probably because his sense was clouded in making sure you’re safe first. 

“Obviously she's an omega so she is very clingy and needy at this time. The thing is, she wasn't taught how to take care of herself properly when it comes to this. When we met, I sort of helped and guided her. Since I'm an omega myself, I can watch over her. But now she has you, her alpha. I'm counting on you to treat her with care and love, too. Okay?” She fiddles with her apron, worries are clearly etched on her face and it makes Yoongi frown.

His mate is feeling emotional. So he hugged her side. Letting her finish prepping Jungkook.

Jungkook feels his chest puffing up after hearing that from her. How she put her trust on him in taking care of you. As an alpha, it is a prideful moment when someone else views you as capable of taking care of his own mate.

“I will. I promise. Thank you,” Jungkook firmly said. Yoongi and his wife are important in your life, he wanted to make a great impression and be someone that these two can trust.

“Make her mushrooms congee, she loves that.” Yoongi mouthed to his wife, wanting her to reply to Jungkook.

“Oh if there's mushrooms in her fridge, make her some soup or congee if you can. She can only stomach soft food during this particular time.” She reminds Jungkook. “Soft food, but plenty of them.”

“Got it.” Jungkook silently cheered at the whole pack of mushrooms he found. Thanking the god that his mom taught him to cook. Congee is easy. 

“Don't worry too much, I'll take care of her.”

“Call us if anything happens or if you need us.”

“I will,” 

You're hearing voices and you recognize the voice. You’re trying your best to respond but you feel as if you’re underwater, because everything is muffled and the ringing in your ear just won’t stop. 

You're gathering lots of memories of what happened today. You were sick, you took a shower, and blank, and then there's the familiar scent, you remember feeling someone putting a shirt over your head, the lingering kisses on your face, a feeling of a sturdy chest, a calloused hand brushing your thighs like a feather as he puts on your pants.

His soft touch brought goosebumps on your skin. Somehow the shy thought unconsciously triggered a slick feeling in between your legs. 

Jolted up, you shake your head, too fast and it's making you dizzy again. A whine coming out from your mouth as you can feel the whole room is spinning even with your back is supported by the head board. 

At the sound, Jungkook is at your door in a second. His hearing is heightened now that he knows his omega is in pre-heat. Whether it's in a few moments or a day, you will completely be in heat. He is getting prepared for that moment. 

The two of you have yet to claim each other so Jungkook feels a little constricted. He just wanted to jump on the bed and take care of you the way you would want but he is a well-mannered alpha. He respects your decisions of wanting to take time, slow and steady.

“Koo,” you whine while pinching your head, the pain subsides as soon as you can smell him. He is your alpha through and through. 

In a heartbeat Jungkook is on the bed sitting facing you. “How are you feeling? Hum? Is somewhere hurt?” He asked with gentle tones, pulling your hands down while he's the one carefully massaging your head now.

“Not really good, but I'm okay.” You moan when he pinches the right pressure on the pain spot on your head. Earning a chuckle from him, you're practically purring. With your body inching closer to him,

Jungkook took the liberty to just pull you and your head is pressed on his chest. Seeing that you're not rejecting that gesture, Jungkook is blooming on the inside.

Listening to his steady heartbeat and the vibration of him humming almost lulls you back to sleep again.

“You good?” Jungkook laughs at your delirious state. He cannot see your face clearly but the sound you make when he massages your scalp is so adorable.

“Very good,” your reply is muffled as your face is pressed on his chest.

“I made you something, let's eat first.” He tapped on your side, ushering you to stay awake. He'll be at peace if you have something in your stomach before you rest again. “Come on. Up, up. You’re sick and I’m taking care of you and that’s final.” He chuckles at your defeated whine, gifting your obedience with a kiss on your head.

“You’re so nice to me,” You murmur as Jungkook blows softly at the hot porridge. Bringing his hand to spoon-fed you with a bright smile on his face. It is exactly like how he imagined. Taking care of his omega. 

Now, he should just come clean now.

“I really want to mark you as my mate, now.” Right after he finished his sentences, he felt a sudden rush on his face. Embarrassed now that he is acting like a teenage boy in love.

Eyes only looking at your mouth opening as he fed you. It is so cute to see Jungkook’s mouth also opening, imitating yours. 

“Really?” You asked, like a fool. Wide eyes searching for him. You’ve heard stories of dominant and assertive alpha but Jungkook is so different. He is so gentle with you and that makes your heart melt.

“You have been very patient. Why are you taking so long to mark me? We went on dates, we hung out for some time, too.” you whined. This is the side of you that Jungkook never knew existed. Maybe it’s the preheat talking.

“What do you mean?” he chuckles. Shaking his head at how you tilted your head to him. 

“I mean, I didn't know I was supposed to feel this way when I found my mate. And you never said anything too, I thought you were waiting for the right moment. But, I can’t wait anymore, now, after you said you want to mark me.” You babbles, fingers are making unknown patterns on your blanket. 

“I want you to be comfortable with me first,” Jungkook answered.

“You’re so kind to me, you know that?” you sobbed.

“Why are you so sad?” Jungkook's eyebrows scrunched at your sudden change. “I think your thoughts are a little cloudy, hum?” He pushed the hair on your sweaty forehead and he realizes you’re breathing hard now.

Your cheeks are burning up and your eyes are unfocused. Jungkook also didn’t miss the heightened smell of bubblegum. Instantly he put down the bowl and cupped your cheeks. 

“hey,” he called for you.

“Want you, Koo. Want you now,” you replied. Your warm hands rest on top of him bringing them down to your under belly. “It’s achy,” you sobbed. Jungkook sucked in a deep breath and it was a fault, because his nose was hit by a sudden smell of your arousal. He is on alert. Because that is a big sign that you’re in heat. 

Unmated omega when they’re in heat, sometimes they can play with themselves. Mated omega, however are more needy, they will beg to be filled because they are aware of what their body wants.

Mated means there’s an Alpha present and the brain is sending a message to the body to be ready for breeding.

This is why mated omegas are sometimes unstoppable when they’re in heat. The problem right now is, you are not really unmated because Jungkook is your mate. He can practically help you go through the whole period of this intense time. 

Jungkook is fighting with everything in him to restrain himself. He wanted to help you only when you’re in the right state of mind. Only when you gave him permission. Because right now he feels like he is violating your trust, disrespecting you or taking advantage of you. He wants it in the right way.

“You’re not thinking straight. I don’t want you to be upset after all of this is over.” Jungkook is slowly coaxing you. 

You shake your head, your hands trying to bring his hand closer to your inner thighs.

He tried, he really is trying his best. The alpha in him is clawing inside of him at your soft whimpers. 

“I am thinking straight. You’re my alpha, my mate. Aren’t you supposed to help me?” You frown. Blinking repeatedly to brush away the glaze in your eyes. Somehow the tears still managed to escape.

“Are you rejecting me?” Your small voice is killing Jungkook.

“No, no, no. no. I am not rejecting you. I just want you to be in a clear state of mind.” Jungkook explained, cupping your cheeks with his free hand as his thumb wiped away the stray tears. “Shh, don’t cry. Please.”

“But I swear this is not just the heat talking. I really want you, I need you, please,” you ramble on. 

Jungkook really looks into your eyes, as if he’s looking for a sign, even if it’s so small, just a sign that you are not very aware of this situation. After seeing the confident glimmer on two surfaces that he fell in love with every damn time, he lets out a chuckle at your silly request. 

“Okay, baby.” He rubs your side, only now noticing that you’re already on his lap.  

You heave out a relieved sigh. “Thank you,” 

“Come closer, pretty.” Jungkook whispers, guiding your hands around his neck. His nose is touching yours and you can feel his warm breath fanning your face. Honestly it makes you feel so secure, knowing that he is so near. You’re obviously already heaving even at the simple touch of his. Finally, 

The distance between his lips and yours are torturous. You greedily kissed on his lips. Ignoring him for trying to position you comfortably. 

“Kook,” you pulled your lips back, only to slam it harder on him. 

“Patience, baby.” Jungkook chuckles. Eyes closing.

All of self-control aside, you started grinding down on his crotch and fondling your breasts right now. Every little breath that passes your lips is breaking Jungkook little by little. He can hold on for so much. 

“Do something, it’s achy,” you pouted. You’re sitting on his crotch causing the alpha to let out a grunt. He can feel the dampen wetness from you on his pants.  

“I will take care of you baby. I promise.” Jungkook squeezed your hips before he took over your body and laid you down on the bed. Not wanting to take even more time after hearing how desperate you sound, he pulled down your pants. 

Curses left his mouth as he stared at your cunt as it was slick with wetness. “God, baby. You’re making a mess. I haven't done anything yet.” 

Your hands are struggling to either grip the sheet or just grab his hair. You succumb to the latter and when your fingers are locking in his hair, you swear you never wanna let go. 

The sinful sound of him sniffing your cunt is making you more tingling. No more shying away as your priority for now is to have him inside of you or you will go insane.

“Let me taste you first, hum?” The vibration of his voice and the cold air he blew straight to your cunt makes you pull his hair harder. He doesn’t even flinch and you’re growing annoyed.

He slot himself in between your shaky thighs. His hand grips your thigh causing it hard to clamp close. You’re trashing on the bed, begging for some friction. It is very agonizing to see him smelling your cunt instead of touching it.

“You smell divine baby, can’t believe this is mine,” Jungkook sniffed on top of the mound. 

“Please, do something, please.” You begged. With eyes shut and knowing how close he already is, you chanted for him to just do whatever he pleases.

“Touch me with your tongue, your finger, your cock, I don’t care! Just wanna be full of cum. Please Kook- ah!” a light pinch on your clit jolted you. Whimpering louder as Jungkook tutted his tongue. 

“I have no idea my baby got such a dirty mouth,” Jungkook looked at you with hooded eyes as he straightened his back. Currently looming over you with one hand parting your legs wider and the other hand is playing with your sticky lips. Easily rubbing his fingers on the clit with the help of your wetness that he collected.

“Huh, has she always been this dirty or is it just for me?” 

Toying with your clit, Jungkook is switching from rubbing to pinching it, causing you to moan with a fist in your mouth. Jungkook is not having any of it, scoffing, he pulls your hand away from your mouth and he grips the wrist. 

“Nuh huh, answer me first. I wanna hear you.” His voice vibrates in between your thighs. 

“For you. Only for my alpha,” you breathe out. Satisfied with your answer Jungkook dived down and started lapping on your cunt like a mad man. The sound is sinful. He lapped and licked every drop from your cunt. He’s switching from licking to sucking your clit. That really throws you over the edge.

“Ahhh! Yes!” You chanted. One hand securely gripping his luscious hair and the other is crumpling the bedsheet. Holding on as if it will help you calm. “So good!” You moaned.

“Yeah? So good, baby?” Jungkook asks, sneakily looking at you with every lick he takes. His golden eyes are more focused now and he can feel his dick hardened by the view. Your chest is moving up and down, and he can see your nipples are poking through the shirt.  The sound of your moans with how messy the bedsheet is because you’re gripping it so tightly. 

At this point Jungkook's cock begs to be released from his pants. He started grinding on the bed as he moved his body. Seeing you writhing on the bed, eyelids fluttering and your mouth agape deliriously. The sinful sight almost makes Jungkook blow off his loads. 

It certainly did not help when you roam your hand from his hair, to his ear, his cheek. Your touch is electrifying. Jungkook groaned before he stood on his knees. The sudden stop from him is cruel to you. 

You almost reached your high with his tongue. 

“Wha-why?” Your hands are scrambling to catch him and bring him back to where he was supposed to be. “More, please. Jungkook, more.”

“Easy, baby. I don’t want it to be over too.” He said. “It's just, your cunt is too good, I almost cum” he breathes. His eyes are full of lust at your wet cunt. He can see how greedy your cunt is sucking on nothing. You clench and unclench the tight muscle and he curses. With laboured breath Jungkook plays with your cunt’s lips. Teasing you. Sort of like a punishment for making him losing control.

“Put your fingers in, Jungkook,” your whines is like a music to his hear. It made him want to tease you more. He purposely run his fingers in your opening. Up and down, up and down.

“Not yet, baby,” he chuckles. You’re a whining mess now, you squirm in hopes his fingers will stick inside.

“Please,” you sobbed.

“Shh, shh.” He reached your face and left trails of kisses from your forehead, your nose, your cheeks. 

“An angel,” he said as he lightly brushed his lips against yours. Plump and swollen from your own bites. Jungkook kisses you like a hungry man. 

As he kissed you, he slowly pushed down two fingers inside of your cunt. He is not even letting you adjust first as he keeps making the come hither motion, repeatedly. Slamming the slick covered fingers in and out as his eyes are fixed on your eyes. Freeing your wrist, he cups your jaw. 

“Look at your alpha. Listen to the sticky sound, how wet you are.” Very contrasting to the brutal fingering, the hand that cupped your jaw is surprisingly soft. “Good omega,” he praises you.

“I really wanna treat you with care. Wanna eat you out slowly, and then open you up nicely with my fingers, but my pretty omega is so desperate for a cock. For my cock. What am I gonna do?” Jungkook feigns a sad pout and before you realize it he is adding another finger into your hole. Gasping at the sudden intrusion, you’re clawing at his biceps.

“Yes! Yes, yes right there!” You moan as he keeps hitting the spot. The feeling of tightness in your lower belly like a band about to snap. His action is taking your breath away, making you panting with broken moans. 

With every jab of his fingers, the band is pulled and pulled and you can feel the wave of arousal is about to crash on you.

“Ah, ah, ah Jungkook! Keep going! Please, please, please”

Chuckling darkly from above you, it seems like Jungkook can sense it too by how tight and sticky your cunt has gotten. 

“You’re so loud, baby.” He teases the sounds that you produced. If it’s possible, he wants to hear it all night long.If you before your heat could look at you now, she would’ve died in embarrassment. 

Truthfully you’d screamed out of your lungs and you’re not gonna give a damn because the sensation is so powerful as you never felt this way before. Maybe in the past all you had was your own hand and some toys, or maybe you just slept away until it’s over because you have no one to help you. Maybe because you’ve found your other half, maybe it’s Jungkook. 

Unknowingly you let out a dreamy sigh as you’re thinking more about Jungkook. The said man notices every change of your expression and he wonders what’s on your mind. He crawled down closer to your engorged clit. 

Licking it again and started sucking the moment he heard your gasp. His fingers are still working inside of you, with his mouth getting busy as well. The slurping and the sucking sound echo in the room. 

“Oh my- oh god,” you moan long. Too much sensation and the band snapped. The ringing in your ears deafen every sound and all you can think is him, him and him. Your mouth is open wide, and the only sounds that come out are broken ah’s and your breath. 

Eyes shut tight.

Big hands are rubbing your calf up and down. “Come back to me, baby.” His lips are ghosting on your inner thigh. Weird feeling of wetness trailed every skin his lips landed on. Jungkook’s hand is squeezing your waist. Calling you one more time, coaxing you to open your eyes. And you did.

All you can see is Jungkook, with shaggy hair covering his forehead, and his lips, down to his chin and neck are glistening wet. 

“Fuck, pretty baby. That was so hot.” He chuckled. Coming up to give you a languid kiss. Letting you taste yourself on him. As if possessed, you cup his chin and lick up the slick from his jaw making him moan this time. 

Now when you’re chest to chest with him again, you needily try to pull his shirt off. Feeling unfair now that you’re already half naked and he is still covered. When he realizes your action, Jungkook helps you by pulling the shirt from the back of his head, using it to wipe out the residue wetness on his neck and chin. 

The sight salivates you even more, now that you can see his rigid abs. Eyes trailing down and down, from his wide shoulder to his chest and to the slim waist of his, your eyes widen with lust the lower you look. 

Happy to see the tent in his pants. 

“Like what you see, baby?” Palming himself, Jungkook said with a deep voice. He himself is at the edge of his self-control. But an alpha like him, he feels the need to pleasure you first. 

Your fingers are eager to unbuckle the belt, to free his cock from its confinement. Jungkook helps you out with a chuckle, pulling off the pants leaving him in black boxer brief. From the outline of it, his cock is huge. 

You must be high on his pheromones as you crawl closer. The needier part of you is making bold decisions. His smell is getting thicker now that you realized. Jungkook must be emitting his smell to protect you in the nest. You’re rolling with content at that. Feeling at the top of the world, you want to give anything and everything to him.

“Wanna suck you,” you licked your lips, the act that Jungkook followed closely with his golden eyes. If he gives up to lust he’d shoved your face to his throbbing cock. But he is still in a clear state of mind, he wants to pamper you, treat you gently. He wants to worship you.

Pulling out his cock, the tip is already dribbled with precum. Being a good omega you are, you planted your fingernails on your thighs. Patiently waiting for him to guide you.

“Closer, baby.” He moans. One hand is moving up and down his girthy shaft. The head is angry red and it must’ve been hurt. Unknowingly you whine for your mate, never wanting him to be uncomfortable. So, you lick up from his balls. Up the base, following the bulging veins up to the head. You teasingly lick the slit. The heady taste is making your head spin yet you repeated the motion. 

“Don’t tease.” Jungkook hissed. His fingers are carding through your hair, pulling them up to a makeshift ponytail. He shut his eyes at the feeling of your coy tongue lapping up his precum. 

“baby! ah fuck!!” He never knew he could be vocal at receiving heads. It’s definitely because it is you. Everything about you is electric and new.

“Yeah, good omega, so good.” He moans when you start to suck him properly. “You can suck faster,” With his permission, your head starts bobbing up and down and you know you’re doing a decent job because he cannot stop moaning. 

Your hand is engulfing his shaft for the part that your mouth cannot swallow. Hollowing your cheek, you’re giving a fair treatment to his balls by fondling them and your cunt is leaking wet.

Everything is a lot and yet you want more.

With your free hand you’re teasing your own opening. From his view he can clearly see you’re pleasuring yourself as you’re working hard on him. Jungkook pulled your head instantly, diving down to kiss you ferociously as he kicked off his boxer completely. 

“Sorry baby. Today’s about you. I wanna help you, baby.” Jungkook said in between kisses and slots himself properly in between your thighs. Guiding his cock to your entrance. The feeling of the bulbous head makes you gasp. Jungkook notices that you’re tense and he distracts you by whispering sweet nothing to your ears. 

Omega in heat are usually ready to receive a knot but Jungkook knows that this is your first time experiencing it with an alpha, and a mate at that too. Of course you’re nervous. The sweet pink in your eyes softens Jungkook’s heart. How he adores you and the last thing he wants is to hurt you. 

“Relax for me baby,” he kisses and sucks the skin in between your neck and shoulder. The spot that emitted your smell the strongest, planning to place his mark there. In order to relax you, he nibbles on your ear, neck, and chest. The blooming purples and reds are scattered beautifully on your skin.

The moment Jungkook can feel your breathing is even, he gathers your cum from the first orgasm, coating his length before pushing in. 

“Oh-,” your hands clawing on his shoulders as he eases inside inch by inch. “You’re so big,” you whine, voice muffling as you sob at his neck. 

“Yeah? You’re doing so good.” With his hands on your hips he pulled out with only the tip still inside of you, pushing back even deeper. “That’s it, that’s my pretty omega,” Jungkook picked up the steady pace as you breathed out more and more to him. 

“I’m a good omega?” Seeking your Alpha’s attention as you bite his shoulder. “Am I doing well?”

“Yes! Yes, baby. My good omega. Wanna be good to you too.” Jungkook grunt. Your cunt is so warm and keeps gushing out slick, if he moves too fast, his cock might slip out easily. Hiking up your legs to his slim waist, you get the message that he wants you to tighten your hold on him. 

With your heels on his ass, he feels a bit more in control. Pounding into you to the point of the only sound that can be heard is the skins slapping on skins and your whimper. 

“There! There! You feel so good!” You’re chanting now. The familiar feel in your lower belly is returning as he keeps going harder. “Cum inside, wanna be full of your cum,” you begged. 

“Ah, fuck, you’re so tight!” Jungkook growls. The sweat on his body and yours are making everything stuck together. Your chest heaving up and down with your back arched from the bed. Jungkook took this chance to latch his lips on your perking nipple. That elicits another loud moan from you. He bites the nub and with his crazy energy from his lower body almost making you pass out. Again. 

“I’m cummin, I’m cumming,” you sob. 

“Ready for my knot baby,” not a question anymore as Jungkook can feel his base is about to swell.

“Please!” You’re so lost in your head as the orgasm is looming closer now. “Wanna be swollen with your cum,” you mew. Jungkook’s eyes are even more focused, now that you started to dirty talk to him. How brazen his sweet omega is.

“You’re gonna be so pretty swollen with my cum. Soon, you’ll be carrying my babies. Huh, gonna be so big because of me,” Jungkook let out a loud moan at the thought. 

Though at the back of his mind he knows it’s too early for babies but still, thinking about it makes his cock twitch in you. 

“Come on baby. Cum for me,” Jungkook rolls his thumb on your clit. 

“Ah! I’m close,” you groan. “Mark me now, Jungkook.” Barring your neck to him as your body shakes when the second orgasm hits you.

“My mate, my perfect mate.” Jungkook planted his teeth on the skin, lapping up to soothe the reddened skin as he soon follows you into the orgasm state. His cock is swelling and lodged perfectly inside of you. Shushing you down as you wiggling uncomfortably. 

“It’ll deflate soon, baby.” Jungkook reassures you. 

“Wanna mark you, too.”  With uncertainty you look at him. Jungkook’s heart clenched. 

“Please, I am yours,” he cupped the back of your head as he pulled you closer to his neck. The bite of your teeth is like a rush of warm water, soothing. 

“My mate,” Jungkook whispered adoringly to your ear, the two of you coming down from your high. It’s the beginning of your heat and before it’s over, it is his duty to take care of you. 

It suddenly hits him that he now - officially- has a mate. Lying next to you, with you in his arms and his cock is still deep in you. Jungkook has a mate now.

“My mate,” your soft voice broke him from his thoughts. Jungkook hums along as he scents you.

True to his expectation, the two of you spent the whole week, fucking. In your nest, in your bathroom and even your kitchen. Jungkook thanks the lucky stars that you’ve already stuffed your kitchen cabinets and fridge with lots of food. 

During your heat, you never think about the basic necessities but his cock. Only wanting him, his cum and his body. 

Jungkook took his role very seriously, providing you snacks after he filled you to the brim. Cleaning you up though you whimpered every time he did so because according to you, you wanted to be covered in his cum. 

The idea of drying, flaky cum from the both of you is not very appealing to him so he has to tend to your sulky, bratty attitude.

Maybe he took his alpha role too seriously when he edged you during the whole week of sex but Jungkook is the best in after care.

“Baby?” Jungkook heard the barks of his dog. 

After the whole euphoric week, Jungkook can never be away from you. So he insisted you live together with him. Now, it has been a few months since you decided to move in. 

“Bam, slow down,” your giggle can be heard from the front door. The sound of your giggle feels like angels singing in his ears. He will always smile adoringly every time he hears you coming in from the door. After work you took Bam, the dobermann to the park, like every other evening. 

Jungkook cooly said “Bam likes you now and he is only excited if it’s you who took him to the park,” you know he is frowning as his dog chooses you over him. His companion for years. 

But Jungkook didn’t mind at all. Because life is much better now he gets to prepare meals for you, he gets to provide a safe space for you to come home, he is just content that he gets to be with you.

Jungkook tilted his head as he could hear the pitter-patter of Bam’s foot and yours towards him. 

“There you are,” Jungkook grins like a fool as you throw yourself onto him.

[redvexillum]

A/N: Please note! I'm still away with limited to no access to internet! Now, let’s talk about this story. A couple of quick notes: originally, I had a mini-series planned as a gift fic for @redfoxwritesstuff similar to this prompt. So, naturally, I decided to hijack the prompt and turn it into a little taste test of what you can expect from me next year. Also, fair warning—this one-shot is long AF. Enjoy! Also Kit said this was a very fluffy-wuffy story ✨️

SUMMARY: When Alastor summons a demon to strike a deal, he’s horrified to discover the entity is none other than his future self—a twisted, unrecognizable Overlord of Hell. The price for their agreement? Allowing his future counterpart a single night with you. But as the night unfolds, the deal unravels, and Alastor is confronted with a vision of his destiny and a choice.

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, demon alastor, human alastor, period typical racism, reader is white for plot reason, p in v, cucking, big smoll sad, it made kit's eyes water lol, time travel, human!alastor is a jerk, human!alastor is bad with feelings, @safination i'm not here right now so you have my permission to lovingly yell at Kit.

When Alastor, your enigmatic and ever-poised boss, had called you for the first time early evening, asking you to meet him in his office, your heart thudded wildly, teetering between anticipation and trepidation. Alastor never went out of his way to summon you—it was always you lingering behind, staying past your hours, quietly soaking in his presence as he worked tirelessly. 

This was different. 

It felt intimate. 

You’d spent an hour preparing, choosing your best dress—a sleek, elegant number that hugged your form just enough to be alluring without being improper. A touch of makeup brought colour to your cheeks, but not too much; you wanted to be perfect, to catch his eye. Yet, despite your efforts, you knew how he would react. Alastor’s gaze was always detached, his smile fixed, his brow quirking only slightly when you adorned yourself in jewels or dresses that begged for attention. Still, you couldn’t help but try, craving even the smallest acknowledgement. 

But what bound you to Alastor wasn’t something you could ever flaunt. It was your secret—a dangerous one that you carried with trembling hands and a racing heart. The two of you were entangled in a forbidden affair, one that defied both class and the suffocating bigotry of your family. 

Alastor was beneath your station—a man your father would see erased from existence if he ever knew. Worse still, he wasn’t even of your race, a detail that would ensure not just scorn, but ruination. 

Despite the risks, you couldn’t quell the fervent pulse of your heart or the fire that grew with every lingering glance, every stolen moment. You loved him. But you would never dare breathe those words aloud. Love, you were certain, would drive him away, or worse, force him to sever your professional ties altogether. No, you resolved to bury it deep within you, content to simply bask in his presence, treasuring every fleeting second by his side. 

The taxi ride to the radio station felt eternal, every bump on the road a reminder of your growing tension. Your stomach coiled with a delicious, agonizing heat, your mind a swirl of fantasies about what the night might hold. Would his hands be on you? His voice—a low, sultry murmur in your ear? You had lied with practised ease to your mother, telling her you were meeting a friend, knowing the scandal it would incite if anyone knew you were alone with an unmarried man in the dead of night. 

You stepped through the radio station doors, your pulse hammering like a drumbeat in your ears. Each step toward his office sent a ripple of nerves through you, your hand trembling as you raised it to knock. The soft rap of your knuckles against the wood echoed in the empty hall. 

“Come in,” came the familiar cadence of Alastor’s voice, low and steady, but there was a rasp beneath it that made your skin prickle. 

As you pushed the door open, your breath caught in your throat. The world seemed to tilt, your vision narrowing to the abomination lounging in Alastor’s chair. It wasn’t him. It couldn’t be. 

The creature was grotesque, its twisted form a nightmare made flesh. Its grin stretched impossibly wide, revealing too many sharp, glistening teeth. Your knees threatened to give out as you stumbled back, a trembling hand flying to cover your mouth. 

“S-Sir,” you stammered, your voice a feeble whisper. Tears welled in your eyes as you pointed a shaking finger at the monstrosity before you. Your mind screamed at you to flee, but your legs felt as if they’d been turned to lead. 

And at that moment, all the fantasies, the yearning, the secret desires—all of it shattered, leaving you drowning in a sea of terror. 

In the chair where Alastor usually sat was a figure so utterly alien, so menacing, that your breath hitched in your throat. Your eyes widened, taking in every horrifying detail. 

The creature’s stark, blood-red hair fell in a sharp bob, the blackened tips framing his face with an eerie precision. Two tufts of hair atop his head mimicked ears, their softness betraying the menace of the antler-like bones that protruded from his skull. These jagged horns gleamed under the low light, their surface polished and unyielding. The skin stretched over his sharp features was a ghostly grey, as if every drop of blood had been leached from his body. His long claws glistened, crimson as though freshly dipped in blood, and their razor-like points promised destruction with a single swipe. 

His choice of attire was oddly elegant—a dapper, pin-striped red suit that hung impeccably on his tall frame, paired with a crimson shirt beneath. The vivid fabric clung to him, amplifying the danger in his already striking presence. When his gaze lifted to yours, your stomach churned. His eyes were an unsettling sea of red, the sclera and iris indistinguishable except for the black, slit-like pupils that seemed to pierce straight into your soul. 

“Why, hello there!” the monster greeted you, his voice dripping with exaggerated joviality. The sound was layered with static, like a distorted broadcast through a radio, dissonant and grating against your ears. 

As he rose from the chair, his height became even more terrifying. The tattered ends of his jacket fluttered slightly, like the remnants of a garment torn through battles untold. He was impossibly tall, towering so far above you that even Alastor’s impressive stature seemed diminutive in comparison. 

“You’ve arrived pretty quickly,” a familiar voice interrupted your spiralling fear, anchoring you for a brief moment. Your head snapped toward the sound, and relief flooded your chest as your boss came into view. Alastor was seated on the plush couch to the side, his elbow resting on the armrest, one hand pressed to his temple as though nursing a splitting headache. 

“S-sir,” you called out, your voice trembling as you instinctively shuffled closer to him. Every nerve in your spine prickled, the weight of the monster’s unblinking gaze crawling over you like bugs. He grinned wider—unnaturally so—his yellowed teeth gleaming in the dim light, the corners of his mouth stretching impossibly far, as if the act of smiling alone was tearing his face apart. 

Alastor rose fluidly from the couch, his presence commanding despite the monstrous figure looming nearby. With a calmness that baffled you, he reached out and took your trembling hand, his touch steady and grounding as he gently pulled you closer to his body. 

Your heart raced, your cheeks burning as his fingers brushed against your skin. You tilted your head up, seeking answers in his expression, but his whisky brown eyes were unreadable, his smile just as enigmatic as always. Why wasn’t he alarmed by the abomination in his office? 

“My dear,” Alastor purred, his deep voice resonating through you like a caress. The sound sent a shiver down your spine, and your head instinctively dipped, your gaze lowering to his polished shoes. Heat rushed through your veins as your body unconsciously fell into a submissive pose, the practised habit of yielding to his authority deeply ingrained from the private games you’d shared. 

His chuckle was warm, teasing, a sound that both soothed and tingled your nerves. He lifted a hand, his long fingers tilting your chin upward with an almost tender touch. His smile softened, though it remained wicked at the edges. 

“I need you to do me a favour, darling,” he murmured, his voice soft yet commanding, the undertones so addicting you felt yourself nodding before the words fully registered. 

“A-anything, sir,” you stammered, your voice trembling with unease. Instinctively, your fingers twitched toward him, longing for reassurance, but you stopped yourself, letting your hands fall to your sides. You knew better—Alastor disliked being touched without his permission, and crossing that line would only make things worse. 

His grin widened, a sinister curve that sent a chill down your spine. For a moment, it mirrored the demon’s unsettling smile, sharp and predatory. “Excellent,” he mused, his tone deceptively light. Then, with an elegant step back, he distanced himself from you, leaving a void where his warmth had been. You shivered, feeling the icy tendrils of isolation creep in. 

Turning his attention to the monster, Alastor tilted his head, his expression unreadable but his voice cutting like a blade. “You see, my little assistant would do anything for me.” His chuckle was dry, short, and devoid of emotion—a sound you were intimately familiar with. “So, do what you will with her, and we’ll conclude our arrangement.” 

The words struck like a thunderclap, dousing you in a cold wave of shock. Your body froze, your mind racing to process what he had just said. You turned to him, wide-eyed and pleading, hoping—praying—for some sign that this was a cruel joke, a test of your devotion. But the cold detachment in his dull, brown eyes offered no comfort. 

The monster loomed closer, his presence suffocating, his malevolent aura wrapping around you like a vice. Your chest tightened as fear clawed its way up your throat, and you finally understood. Alastor had summoned this being—a blasphemous act, all for some dark purpose. Was this your fate? Had he lured you here to offer you as a sacrifice? 

Tears burned in your eyes, the sting mingling with the sharp ache in your chest. Your nose tingled as you fought to hold back a sob. You had said you would do anything for him, but now the weight of that promise crushed you. 

Would you die for him? 

Could you? 

The monster’s low, guttural chuckle rumbled through the room, a sound that vibrated in your very bones. His eyes glowed with a hellish light, his razor-sharp teeth gleaming as his grin widened, promising pain. You hiccuped, your trembling gaze darting back to Alastor, silently begging him to stop whatever horror he had set in motion. 

As the monster drew closer, his towering form engulfed you. You whimpered, your eyes squeezing shut, bracing yourself for the agony you were certain would follow. But instead of searing pain, there was a gentle touch—a feather-light brush of fingers against your skin. 

Cautiously, you opened your eyes, your breath hitching as you met his gaze. The malevolence was gone, replaced by something softer, almost…tender. His grin had dulled, the sharpness of his teeth no longer as menacing. 

“My, I was such a bully to you, wasn’t I, cher?” he murmured, his voice low and intimate. He stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate, as though not to startle you. Gently, he lifted your trembling hand, his clawed fingers cradling it with surprising care. His eyes fluttered closed as he pressed a soft kiss to the back of your hand, the unexpected tenderness unravelling the knot of fear in your chest. 

“Al…Alastor?” The name slipped from your lips unbidden, your voice barely above a whisper. This creature looked nothing like your boss, yet his mannerisms—the way he spoke, the delicate way he touched you—felt achingly familiar. 

The monster’s eyes snapped open, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. Slowly, his gaze locked onto yours, the intensity in his glowing red eyes pinning you in place. His body shifted closer, his towering frame crowding you, but without the suffocating malice from before. 

One hand slid to rest gently on your hip, the other cupping your cheek with a touch so light it felt like a whisper against your skin. His thumb traced slow, deliberate circles, brushing the warmth of your cheek as though memorizing every detail. 

“You’re as beautiful as I remember you to be, cher,” he said, his voice soft, almost reverent. The words were spoken as if they were meant for you alone, a secret shared in the space between your breaths. The tenderness in his tone sent a pang through your chest, your fear melting into confusion, longing, and something deeper—something that tugged at the very core of you. 

Your eyes darted past the monster, seeking the warmth and steadiness of Alastor’s familiar brown gaze, but he wasn’t looking at you. Instead, he busied himself with tidying the scattered books on the floor, his movements precise, almost indifferent. 

“I suppose you’d like an explanation?” The monster’s voice lilted with amusement, the tone grating against your raw nerves. 

You tried to speak, to demand answers, but your throat felt constricted, the weight of fear pressing your lips shut. What could you possibly say when confronted with something so unnatural, so wrong? 

The monster’s grin widened as he studied your silence, his laughter cutting through the tension like jagged glass. “My younger, alive self, I might add,” he began, voice dripping with mockery, “decided it would be a brilliant idea to summon a demon. And what a surprise—I managed to transcend time itself, back to when I still drew breath. Ha!” 

He chuckled, the sound lighthearted, as if he were recounting an amusing anecdote instead of explaining your potential doom. With an unsettling ease, he began to sway you side to side, guiding your body like a puppet, as though a melody only he could hear played in his mind. 

“W-what?” you stammered, your voice barely audible, the weight of his words sinking in. 

The demon leaned closer, his glowing red eyes narrowing as he held you in his gaze. “You see, cher, your dear father was planning to pull out his support. Said the new age of entertainment was approaching,” he purred, his tone lowering, his words curling like smoke around you. “He claimed the radio was a dying medium. Can you imagine?” 

Your heart stuttered, the implication dawning on you in jagged pieces. 

Before you could process further, the demon pulled back, his face twisted into an unsettlingly cheerful grin. “So,” he continued, his voice unnervingly jovial, “my younger self decided to strike a deal with me.” 

Without warning, he yanked you closer, your body pressed firmly against his towering frame. His claws trailed lightly along your arm, his grip firm yet almost reverent as he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze. His sharp teeth flashed in a grotesque mockery of a smile as he leaned in, his words soft and poisonous. 

“Help him convince your father to keep his investment in the radio business,” he explained, “and in return, I get you—for one night. However I please.” He sighed wistfully, as if the thought alone was a gift. 

“I…” The swirl of emotions in your chest was unbearable—fear, disgust, betrayal, and a growing sense of dread. Your stomach churned, and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. The enormity of what he was saying crashed down on you like a tidal wave. Alastor had sold you. Sold you to this…this demon for a fleeting deal. 

Your voice wavered, cracking under the weight of your panic. “P-pl-please,” you whimpered, trembling in his grasp. “I-I can convince my father. I swear—please, just don’t hurt me.” A tear slipped down your cheek, hot and bitter, the first of many as your resolve crumbled into despair. 

Behind the demon, Alastor’s voice cut through the moment, sharp and impatient. “Think of it as another…act,” he said with an air of dismissal, waving his hand as though the entire situation was trivial. His arms crossed over his chest, his expression tight with irritation. “I’m ordering you, for one night, to experience pleasure with another man, ah, rather an otherworldly being. Surely, you love following my orders, don’t you?” 

His grin was forced, brittle at the edges, and his gaze was devoid of the warmth you had once clung to. The coldness in his voice pierced you deeper than the demon’s claws ever could. 

Something deep within you cracked, a fracture so profound it reverberated through your entire being. The tears came harder now, streaking down your cheeks in silence as the pain hollowed out your chest. Your voice faltered, swallowed by the void left behind by his betrayal. You were adrift, unmoored, and utterly broken. 

Before you could fully crumble in the demon’s arms, his voice cut through the storm of your emotions, soft yet laced with disapproval. “My, my, my,” he sighed, shaking his head with an air of mock disappointment. With a sharp snap of his fingers, the air crackled, and tendrils of shadow unfurled from the floor like living smoke. They coiled around Alastor’s limbs, binding him in place. 

“Hey—” Alastor managed to bark before one of the tendrils silenced him, curling tightly over his mouth. His eyes burned with malice, glaring daggers at the demon. The raw hatred radiating from him sent a shiver cascading down your spine. 

The demon tutted, wagging a clawed finger as though scolding a misbehaving child. “Tsk, tsk. I’m quite certain our mother taught us better manners when it comes to treating the fairer sex, wouldn't you agree?” he chided, the red monocle adorning his eye gleaming in the dim light like a sly wink directed at you. 

He turned his attention back to you, and before you could shrink away, his arms enfolded you in a firm embrace. “Now, now, cher,” he murmured, his voice a warm, honeyed drawl. “No need for tears. I dare say, I’m truly amazed. Imagine… falling in love with me, despite everything.” His head tilted, amusement dancing in his crimson gaze as his grin softened ever so slightly. 

Your muscles locked, your mind too frazzled to process his words. Your wide eyes remained fixed on Alastor, bound and seething within the shadowy restraints. “P-please, Mr. Demon, y-you’re hurting him,” you stammered, trembling as helplessness gripped your frame. 

“Oh, sweet thing, don’t you worry about him,” the demon cooed, his tone light yet edged with a strange finality. “And for the record, I’d prefer it if you called me Al.” 

“A-Al?” The name felt foreign on your tongue as you hesitantly turned your gaze back to him. 

“That’s right,” he replied with a theatrical flourish, a microphone staff materializing in his hand out of thin air. He stepped back, spreading his arms as though addressing an invisible audience. “Allow me to properly introduce myself!” His grin widened, impossibly sharp. “I am Alastor—the Radio Demon. I hail from the future, though I come bearing tidings from Hell itself! It's a pleasure to meet you, again! Haha!” His laughter echoed, rich and chilling. “But for you, my darling, you may simply call me Al. I much prefer it that way.” 

His words sank in like stones, heavy and impossible. This demon… this creature who had embraced you so intimately… was Alastor. Your Alastor. The very thought clawed at your sanity, pulling you deeper into the pit of madness. 

“How… how is this possible?” you whispered, the question barely audible over the hammering of your heart. 

His response was another snap of his fingers, the sound sharp and commanding. The plush sofa in the corner of the room shimmered and transformed, warping into a small, inviting bed. 

“Anything is possible with a little magic, darling,” he said with a devilish grin, his hand slipping to the small of your back, guiding you toward the bed. His voice dropped, a velvet purr curling through his words. “And my time here is fleeting. So, cher, allow me this one indulgence—to feel you once more, as I’ve longed to do.” 

“Y-you’re Alastor,” you murmured, your voice soft, trembling as your mind wavered on the precipice of disbelief and reluctant acceptance. It felt surreal, like a twisted fairy tale brought to life. 

“The one and only,” he declared with a radiant grin that sent a jolt of familiarity straight to your heart. For a moment, your breath hitched. That smile—it was Alastor’s, unmistakably his. The way his lips curled, the self-assured confidence radiating from him—it mirrored the expression you’d seen so many times after his broadcasts, a smile brimming with satisfaction and happiness. 

But now, that smile belonged to this—to him. 

As he followed you to the bed, his movements unhurried yet purposeful, you found yourself sinking into the mattress, your body trembling with a cascade of emotions you couldn’t contain. The instant he sat beside you, you threw your arms around his neck, clutching him as though he might vanish into smoke if you let go. Pressing your face against his chest, you whispered, voice quivering under the weight of your heartache, “W-why are you in Hell?” 

Tears spilled freely, soaking into the fine fabric of his jacket. Your words, soft and trembling, carried a deeper pain than you realized. “Why?” you repeated, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, your blurred vision making his grin all the more surreal. 

The concept of Hell clawed at your mind—a place of endless torment, unimaginable cruelty, and eternal suffering. The thought of Alastor, your Alastor, enduring such a fate twisted your stomach into knots. Your hands, trembling with hesitation and sorrow, rose to frame his face. The grin on his lips remained unchanged, unfaltering, though its presence felt like a knife plunged into your chest. 

“I-is it scary?” you asked, voice breaking under the weight of your despair. “Is it… painful?” The tears came harder now, spilling like a deluge, each one carrying another fragment of your breaking heart. “Is there…” you hiccuped, searching his eyes for something, anything, “…anything I can do? To…to save your soul?” 

For a moment, he froze, his crimson eyes fixed on you. Then his lips parted, and laughter spilled forth—a sound both melodic and unhinged, a discordant symphony that sent shivers rippling across your skin. 

“Oh, my!” he exclaimed between peals of manic laughter, his head tilting unnaturally. With a sickening crack, his neck twisted in a full circle, the motion so grotesque you flinched. He turned his warped grin toward the immobilized Alastor, bound by shadows in the corner of the room. “She doesn’t know?” he howled, the sound echoing as though bouncing off invisible walls. “Hahaha! She doesn’t know! Oh, this is rich!” 

You stared, frozen in both awe and horror, as the man you loved unravelled into something far stranger, far darker. The resemblance to Alastor was undeniable—the mannerisms, the way he carried himself—but there was something else, too. Something foreign, something… wrong. He was a blurred reflection, a distorted echo of the man you thought you knew. 

Without warning, his head snapped back to face you. Before you could process the movement, his lips descended on yours, the suddenness of it stealing your breath. You stiffened, your body rigid with shock. But then his lips moved, tender and familiar, in the exact way Alastor used to kiss you. The familiarity melted your resolve, and against your better judgment, your fingers brushed against the lapels of his jacket. 

His hand came to rest on yours, gently clasping your trembling fingers. 

“Cher,” he murmured, his voice a soft, aching melody. His lips brushed against yours again, as though afraid this moment would slip away. “Oh, how I’ve missed you, cher,” he whispered, the raw longing in his tone unravelling something deep inside you. 

He pressed you back onto the bed, his weight settling over you like a ghost of memories long past. If you closed your eyes, you could almost convince yourself it was him—your Alastor. It was so easy to believe it was his hands, his voice, his breath against your skin. 

“I’m not… with you...down there?” you whispered, your voice breaking as he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, breaths mingling. 

For a fleeting moment, something unspoken flickered in his crimson eyes—pain. Then it was gone, replaced by his ever-present grin. “Of course not, silly girl,” he said, his voice laced with a deceptive lightness. He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, his touch gentle despite the shadows that clung to him. 

“Your soul, of course, went to Heaven,” he continued with a wistful chuckle. “How could it not? You’re far too pure, too precious for the likes of Hell.” His words were tender, yet they carried an undertone of something far darker. Something that left you both mesmerized and terrified. 

The way Al held you was intimate, possessive, and far too tender to be anything other than the embrace of a lover. It was as though, in some distant future, you and he were entwined in a life you could only dream of. 

Could it be true? 

Your gaze shifted to Alastor, who was furiously struggling against the shadow tendrils pinning him in place. The sight of his thrashing form, his narrowed eyes burning with frustration, sent your heart pounding. The sound of your pulse roared in your ears as conflicting thoughts raced through your mind. 

Perhaps, in the future, the world had changed—laws once meant to keep you apart finally lifted. Perhaps Alastor had grown to see you, not as an assistant, but as someone worthy of his love. Perhaps, together, you’d built a life, a family, and shared moments of happiness you could scarcely imagine now. 

But then, a darker thought surfaced. Perhaps Alastor had died, his soul condemned to Hell. If that was true, and this demon before you was proof of that fate, would your future self feel the same unbearable ache at being parted from him for eternity? 

Tears welled in your eyes as the thought took root, threatening to undo you entirely. You buried your face against Al’s chest, his warmth anchoring you as you fought to calm the whirlwind of emotions. Hugging him tightly, you slowed your breathing, trying to chase away the storm of uncertainty. 

“I…” you started, but your voice faltered. You cast a glance back at Alastor, still bound and silenced, his struggle relentless. The words caught in your throat, and you pressed your lips tightly together, unwilling to voice your fears. 

“What’s wrong, cher?” Al whispered against your hair, his voice soothing and laced with curiosity. He began peppering light kisses across your forehead and hairline, each touch feather-soft yet disarming. “Is it something you don’t want my present self to hear?” 

Your body tensed in surprise. How had he read your thoughts so clearly? 

He grinned mischievously, a spark of devilish delight flashing in his crimson eyes. With a sharp snap of his fingers, the shadow tendrils tightened around Alastor’s head, shrouding his eyes and ears. “There. Now he can’t see or hear us!” Al giggled, his claws tracing idle patterns down your arm before moving to the buttons of your dress. 

“I never told you how much I admired your dresses, did I, cher?” he murmured, his tone dipping low, intimate. 

“W-what?” you stammered, breath hitching as his fingers worked with slow precision, unfastening each button one by one. 

“You always tried so hard to catch my attention,” he said, his voice husky, tinged with regret. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your collarbone with a tender kiss. “And I, stubborn fool that I am, ignored the signs—despite my obvious interest in you.” 

Another kiss landed on your other collarbone, his warm breath ghosting over your skin. His words sent a shiver coursing through you. “Have we made love yet, cher?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Love? The word echoed in your mind, foreign yet tantalizing. You and Alastor had shared moments, stolen kisses, and even acts of passion, but love…? You weren’t sure if anything between you had ever been tender enough to call it that. 

Your silence was answer enough. Al hummed softly, his lips quirking upward. “I suppose that tells me where I am in the timeline,” he mused, his fingers gliding over your skin as he peeled your dress away. 

His sharp inhale was audible, his hands reverent as they traced your bare form. He cupped the curve of your breast with a featherlight touch, his claws grazing your skin before sliding down to rest at your navel. The intensity of his gaze made you feel both vulnerable and cherished, and your heart ached at the dichotomy between his tenderness and the sharp edge of danger he exuded. 

“Such beauty,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble, filled with awe and longing. “How I must have adored you…ah, How I adore you even now...” His words trailed off, his lips returning to claim yours in a kiss that was soft, searching, and impossibly bittersweet. 

You stifled a moan, the sound barely escaping your lips as your heels dug into the mattress. Heat coiled low in your belly, but a nagging thought held you in place. If this truly was Alastor, you knew how much he relished control. Surely, he’d expect you to stay still, waiting for his next command. 

“Does this form disgust you, cher?” Al’s voice sliced through your thoughts, low and rich, dripping with desire. 

His words startled you, and for a moment, you were lost in the depths of his crimson gaze. Disgust? The notion was absurd. If anything, this form was fascinating—intoxicating. Your mind had already accepted that this demon was, in essence, Alastor, and now you couldn’t help but marvel at him. The fiery red of his hair spoke of passion, his sharp smile held a mischievous allure, and those ruby-like eyes gleamed with a predatory hunger. 

“N-no,” you stammered, heat rising to your cheeks. “I-I just know you like to take control… I didn’t want to upset you or make you stop.” 

His ministrations paused, his claws resting against your bare hips, sending shivers racing along your skin. The top of your dress hung open, exposing your brasserie, while the fabric was bunched around your hips, leaving you vulnerable beneath his touch. He hovered, his knees pressing close to the apex of your thighs, radiating heat and tension. 

“What is it you wanted to ask me, cher?” Al inquired, his voice soft yet commanding, drawing you into the moment. “My present self won’t hear a thing. This might be your only chance to know.” 

The weight of his words settled heavily on your chest. You’d heard countless tales of how meddling with knowledge of the future often led to ruin. But this wasn’t about destiny or fate—this was about Alastor, the man whose stoic mask never faltered, whose true heart always remained hidden behind an impenetrable wall. 

You took a shaky breath, your voice barely above a whisper. “Do you… love me? In the future?” 

The question hung in the air, fragile and trembling, as your cheeks burned with embarrassment. You dared to meet his gaze, bracing yourself for his response. 

Al tilted his head, his ear-like tufts flopping to one side, his crimson eyes narrowing with an unreadable glint. Then, with a soft chuckle, he countered, “Do you love me now?” 

The breath hitched in your throat, but you forced yourself to nod, summoning every ounce of bravery to seize this fleeting moment of truth. “Y-yes,” you confessed, your voice trembling yet resolute. “I… I do.” 

For a heartbeat, silence enveloped the room, thick and heavy with unspoken emotion. Then, Al’s expression softened, his grin shifting into something that resembled bittersweet longing. 

“There isn’t a single day I haven’t thought of you while in Hell, cher,” he murmured, his voice rich with a reverence that sent your heart spiralling. His claws traced a slow, deliberate path along the edges of your underwear, the sensation both thrilling and overwhelming. 

“Not a single day,” he whispered, his words a tender confession as he gently peeled the fabric away. His touch, so soft yet searing, seemed to convey every unspoken emotion, each one wrapping around you like a vice, leaving you breathless and yearning. 

You weren’t sure why the tears came, hot and relentless, welling in your eyes until they spilled over. A sudden ache bloomed in your chest, overwhelming and raw. Without thinking, your trembling hands flew to cover your lips, muffling a quiet sob. “I’m sorry,” you whispered shakily. “I... I didn’t mean to cry.” 

The words felt inadequate, your voice small beneath the weight of the moment. You weren’t even certain why you were apologizing—perhaps because you’d never heard him like this before. Alastor’s voice, always sharp and full of confidence, now carried a vulnerability so deep it left you breathless. That softness, that tinge of hurt, was foreign and startling, and it wrapped around your heart, squeezing until it ached for him. 

“Shh,” Al soothed, his voice low and caring as he leaned in to kiss away your tears, each press of his lips feather-light and reverent. “There’s no need for apologies, cher. Just let me...stay with you.” 

His words were a promise, spoken with a quiet urgency that made your breath hitch. His claws slid beneath the lace of your bra, cupping your breast with a surprisingly warm touch, even gentle. His fingers splayed across your skin, firm yet careful, as though he feared breaking you. 

A soft sound escaped you when you felt the faint tug of a zipper being undone. His movements were unhurried, deliberate, and when he pressed the heated length of himself against your core, you inhaled sharply, your back arching ever so slightly. His pace was slow, almost excruciating, as he guided himself inside, inch by inch, allowing you to feel the stretch, the fullness, the raw intimacy of the act. 

“Ah,” you exhaled, a breathless moan slipping from your lips as he continued, filling you completely. The pleasure was deep and consuming, his every movement precise, yet tender in a way that left you trembling beneath him. 

A sudden snap echoed in the room, and Alastor—the present Alastor—gasped loudly, finally free of the shadows that had silenced him. “You bastard,” he snarled at his future self, his voice hoarse from restraint. “You absolute—” 

“This is how you treat her,” Al murmured with a grin, his tone tinged with amusement, though his attention never wavered from you. He shifted his hips, filling you to the hilt, and a soft cry of pleasure tumbled from your lips, mingling with a moan that seemed to echo in the dimly lit room. 

He groaned above you, the sound rich and guttural, his breath hot against your skin as he nuzzled against the crook of your neck. Each movement made you keenly aware of him, the way he stretched and filled you, the way his body seemed to fit yours so perfectly. His claws brushed a strand of hair from your face, tucking it gently behind your ear as he whispered, “Oh, look at you, my cher. Look how beautifully you take me.” 

This was unlike anything you’d ever experienced with Alastor before. It wasn’t rough or commanding, nor was it tinged with the sharp edges of teasing and denial. This was different—soft, intimate, and achingly...gentle. It was as though, for the first time, you weren’t simply giving yourself to him; you were sharing something mutual, something sacred. 

“Wrap those lovely legs around me, cher,” Al murmured, his voice low and intoxicating. You obeyed without hesitation, curling your legs around his waist and pulling him even closer. The sensation was overwhelming, his movements sending waves of pleasure that left you gasping, clutching at his jacket as if it were the only thing grounding you. 

He captured your lips in a kiss, his tongue brushing against yours in a dance as he swallowed every moan and whimper that escaped you. The intensity built rapidly, pleasure coiling tightly in your core until you felt as though you might shatter from it. 

“I’m sorry,” you gasped against his lips, the words barely audible. “I’m so close, I don’t think I can hold back.” 

Your fingers curled tighter around his jacket, clutching it desperately as you tried to hold on, to prolong the moment just a little longer. But the pleasure was relentless, building higher and higher, until it consumed every thought, every sensation, leaving only him—only this.

Al chuckled warmly, a sound rich and velvety, like dark chocolate melting against your ears. It carried a hint of mischief, yet something darker lingered beneath it. “See this?” His voice was smooth, teasing as he turned to face Alastor. 

Your gaze followed, and a rush of heat flooded your cheeks as your eyes landed on the unmistakable bulge pressing against the front of Alastor's pants. 

Alastor’s lips were pressed into a thin, trembling line, his expression a storm of rage and humiliation. His dark eyes burned with fury, darting between you and his future self. “Just get it done and over with,” he growled, his voice taut with barely contained anger. He thrashed against the shadowy tendrils that restrained him, but they held him fast. 

“Oh, but we have all night,” Al sang, his voice almost melodic, a sinister contrast to the tension in the room. “Tell me, how many times have you robbed her of her pleasure?” 

Before you could process his words, Al shifted your position with a surprising ease. You found yourself facing Alastor, your back pressed flush against Al’s chest, your legs spread wide and entirely exposed. Heat flared across your skin, searing with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. 

“See this?” Al murmured, his voice low as his fingers gently guided your chin, tilting your face toward Alastor. Your heart pounded, your breath hitching as Al’s grip anchored you in place. 

You gasped as he entered you again, deep and relentless, stealing your breath with every thrust. “Oh—oh, A-Al,” you cried, trembling against his unyielding hold. 

Al grunted softly, his lips curling into a smile. “Look at her,” he urged, his voice thick with desire. “See how beautiful she is, wrought with pleasure.” He thrust into you harder, the lewd, wet sounds of your joining filling the space. 

Alastor’s expression flickered—anger, something unreadable, then averted eyes. He bit his lip harshly, a deep flush creeping up his neck, betraying his growing frustration. 

“You’re close, cher,” Al whispered against the shell of your ear, his breath hot and tantalizing. “I can feel it—the way you clench around me, so tight, so perfect.” 

He was right. The tension coiled within you, sharp and demanding, pulling you toward the edge. 

You tried to fight it, to hold back, but it was futile. A tidal wave of ecstasy crashed over you, tearing a cry from your lips as your body trembled with the force of your climax. Al’s hands guided you through it, his movements unrelenting as he drew out every last shiver and quake of pleasure. 

As the haze of your release began to fade, your breath came in ragged gasps. Al held your face gently, his thumb brushing your flushed cheek. Your eyes flicked to Alastor, catching the way his hips moved almost imperceptibly, his lips parted, panting slightly as his gaze fixated on you. His anger seemed momentarily forgotten, replaced by something darker, something needy. 

“How many times have you robbed her of this?” Al’s voice was soft, but his words cut sharply. He kissed your cheek, his cock still nestled deep within you. “Shall I right your wrongs? For every pleasure you denied her, I’ll give her double.” His chuckle was light, teasing, and yet his tone carried a promise of endless indulgence. 

Your body trembled at the thought, your mind spinning. Could you even withstand more? The lingering pulse of your release still coursed through you, leaving you breathless and yearning. 

“Shut up,” Alastor spat, his voice thick with venom. “Are you done yet? How much more of this absurdity must I endure?” He turned his head sharply, his expression a mask of disgust, but there was something unspoken in his eyes—a flicker of hurt that struck a chord within you. 

It shouldn’t have stung, but it did. 

“Typical,” Alastor sneered, his anger boiling over. His lips curled into a cruel grin. “I always knew you’d open your legs for—” 

Before he could finish, a shadow tendril coiled around his throat, cutting him off mid-sentence. His words dissolved into a strangled gasp as his body stiffened. 

“Alastor!” you cried out, panic flaring as you instinctively tried to move toward him. 

But Al pulled you back against his chest, his arms locking around you. “Don’t fret, cher,” he said smoothly, snapping his fingers. The tendrils vanished instantly, and Alastor collapsed to the ground, coughing and gasping for air. 

You watched as he rolled onto his side, spittle dripping from his lips as he sucked in desperate gulps of air. Your chest ached at the sight of him, weakened and furious all at once, but before you could speak, Al’s lips brushed your temple, his voice soft and unnervingly gentle. 

“Some wounds, cher,” he murmured, “are better left to fester.” 

Al’s hips began to move again, a slow and deliberate grind that sent jolts of sensation through your overstimulated body. You bit your lip, trying in vain to stifle the shameful moans that spilled from your throat. Every inch of him seemed to ignite a fire within you.

“Don’t ever,” Al murmured, his voice dropping into a cold, cutting tone that sent a shiver racing down your spine, “disrespect my woman like that.” 

The words were like a proclamation, and before you could process them, his hand tightened around your breast, his movements becoming forceful and unrelenting. His hips snapped against yours, filling the room with the sound of skin meeting skin, each thrust pushing you closer to another crescendo of pleasure. 

Al’s lips found your neck, searing hot kisses trailing along your sensitive skin before his hand guided your face to meet his. He claimed your lips with a ferocity that left you breathless, his tongue exploring you in a way that felt both possessive and intimate, tracing your teeth and stroking the inside of your cheek as though savouring every part of you. 

Your body was still trembling from the aftershocks of your previous release, hypersensitive to every movement. Yet, the way Al continued to thrust into you, his pace calculated but demanding, stirred another wave of pleasure rising too fast for you to suppress. 

You moaned unabashedly, your head tipping back as you tried to keep your legs open despite the overwhelming sensations. Al’s kisses turned savage, his lips and tongue trailing down to taste your collarbone and the curve of your shoulder. Before long, your vision blurred, and your body arched into his. Your walls clenched around him, gripping tightly as your second orgasm ripped through you like a tidal wave. 

You cried out, your voice breaking as pleasure coursed through your veins. Every nerve in your body seemed to light up, leaving you trembling and weak. Your muscles spasmed around him, your breath hitching with every aftershock as you slowly slumped against his chest, utterly spent. 

“Y-your woman?” Alastor’s voice broke the spell, sharp and incredulous. He coughed, clearing his throat before finally finding his footing and standing upright. 

“Last I checked,” he continued, his tone rising with indignation, “she wasn’t even in Hell with you—with us!” His hand went to his neck, rubbing the tender skin where the shadow tendrils had choked him moments before. His darkened eyes narrowed, and he took a step closer, his voice brimming with outrage. “You’re insane.” 

Before you could react, Alastor reached for your wrist, his grip firm but not painful. He tugged you forward, your weakened body pulled unceremoniously into his arms. Your head fell against his chest, and you felt the warmth of him seep into your skin. His hand slid possessively to your hip, grounding you as he glared at his future self. 

Al leaned back, a picture of ease and command, lounging as though he were a king on a throne. He regarded the two of you with a smirk, a glint of amusement in his ruby eyes. 

“She…” Alastor began, but his voice faltered. His grip on your wrist loosened until his fingers slid away entirely. His gaze dropped, his anger giving way to something quieter, something aching. “She lives in an entirely different world than us. Than me.” 

Your chest tightened, the weight of his words settling heavily over you. 

You turned slowly, your eyes lifting to meet Alastor’s. This was the man you had fallen for—the one you had dreamed of, the one whose guarded heart you had hoped to reach. His expression struggled to wear his usual impassive mask, yet, his jaw tense and there was something raw in his eyes, something he didn’t dare speak aloud. 

The air between you hung thick with unspoken words. And as you looked into his face, you realized just how fragile this moment truly was. 

Alastor’s fingers brushed a strand of hair back from your face, the motion hauntingly familiar to the one his future self had performed. His touch was gentle as he tucked the strand behind your ear. His eyes met yours, and for a fleeting moment, you thought you saw something vulnerable flicker there—only for it to vanish beneath his ever-present smile. 

“You remember, don’t you, dear?” His voice was smooth, almost casual, but there was an edge to it, like the sharp bite of a slap. “What we have, what we are... it’s just for—” he paused, his gaze holding yours for a fraction too long before finishing, “fun.” 

Fun. 

The word echoed in your mind, hollow and cold. All the hope that had swelled within you moments earlier, kindled by Al’s words, dissipated instantly. 

Fun. 

It was what you and Alastor had agreed upon. A fleeting arrangement, a temporary indulgence in each other’s company, meant to burn bright and brief before the inevitable end. It was never supposed to be more. Never meant to last. 

Fun. 

That was the word that cut through you, sharper than any blade. You had known this from the start, hadn’t you? Once your father found the perfect match for you, you would disappear from Alastor’s life forever. That had been the unspoken agreement. Yet somewhere along the way, the lines blurred, and your heart betrayed you. 

You glanced toward Al—the demon who claimed to be Alastor’s future self. His words, his touches, his teasing... was it all a game? A cruel trick to see how far he could bend you, how much hope he could ignite only to snuff it out? 

Your awareness sharpened as embarrassment crept over you, your vulnerable state of undress now unbearable. Your arms instinctively crossed over yourself, clutching at your dress as you tried to cover the skin that felt too exposed, too raw. 

The dress you had painstakingly chosen for this evening, carefully picked with Alastor in mind, now hung loosely, undone and crumpled. Your hair, once meticulously brushed and curled, was now a chaotic mess. You had spent hours perfecting your makeup, only for the tears streaking your face to smear it into ruin. 

You looked like a fool. 

The urge to flee surged within you. You couldn’t bear to stay here, not like this. But even as the thought crossed your mind, another, more painful realization followed—if you left, what would happen to the deal? Your heart ached at the cruel irony. Even now, after everything, you still cared about him. About what he wanted. About fulfilling your part of the bargain. 

For him. 

Tears welled up in your eyes again, spilling over despite your best efforts to contain them. You forced yourself to look up, but not at Al. Instead, your gaze found Alastor—the man you had fallen for despite all the odds, despite his impenetrable walls, despite knowing he would never truly be yours. 

“H-how much longer,” you began, your voice trembling as you struggled to hold back the tears, “must I satisfy the demon, Alas—” Your voice faltered, and you lowered your head, your next word barely above a whisper. “S-sir?” 

For a long moment, Alastor said nothing. His face was unreadable, his whisky brown eyes scanning your dishevelled appearance with an intensity that made your breath hitch. You wanted to disappear under his gaze, ashamed of the image you must have presented to him now. 

But then, to your surprise, he moved closer. Slowly, deliberately, he reached out, his long fingers brushing against your trembling hands. Without a word, he began to button your dress. One button at a time, his movements were delicate, almost reverent. 

There was no teasing in his touch, no mockery in his expression. Just a quiet, unexpected gentleness. 

His lashes fluttered briefly against his cheeks, soft and fragile behind his round glasses. When he spoke, his voice was low and filled with quiet resolve. “You should wait outside, dear,” he whispered, his words carrying the faintest tremor of tenderness. “At least let me take you home. It wouldn’t do to have a lady out this late.” 

Moments like this, where he allowed a sliver of gentleness to break through his sharp edges, made your heart both race and ache. You clung to the sound of his voice, the kindness laced within it, even as uncertainty churned in your chest. 

“What about the demon—” you began, the question heavy with fear and concern. 

He silenced you with a single, sharp look. His frown slowly curled into a grin, that eerily familiar expression that always danced between charming and menacing. “No need to worry about that, dear,” he said lightly, though his tone darkened as he shifted his gaze to the demon. “Unless the demon wishes to force his cher—” he spat the title like venom, his disdain palpable “—to pleasure him.” 

The air grew taut, charged with a dangerous energy. The red devil, Al’s supposed future self, froze for a moment, his grin tightening as his eyes narrowed. It felt as though the room itself bristled with his restrained fury. Then, almost too casually, he smoothed a hand over his pants, fixing himself, preened his dishevelled hair, and adjusted his monocle with precision. 

“That would mean our contract is null and void,” the demon drawled, his words slow and deliberate. He tilted his head slightly, studying Alastor with a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. 

“That’s fine,” Alastor replied evenly, his voice firm, yet calm. Without waiting for a response, he gently but firmly pushed you toward the door. “Go. Wait for me outside.” 

You hesitated, torn between obedience and the instinct to stay by his side. Your eyes flicked between Alastor and the demon, the two of them locked in a silent, smouldering battle of wills. Finally, with a reluctant nod, you turned to leave, your steps faltering but resolute. 

You had barely taken three steps when the devil’s voice stopped you, his words drifting through the tense air like smoke. 

“Cher?” 

Your shoulders jumped up, muscles stiff with unease as you turned back toward him. The sight of his inky, unnatural tendrils from before lingered in your memory, a haunting reminder of how effortlessly he could hurt—or kill.

The devil’s grin had frozen in place, his sharp eyes scanning your face, your body, as though searching for something he couldn’t find. Slowly, his expression shifted. His two tufts of hair drooped, softening against his head, and for a fleeting moment, his imposing presence seemed almost weak, vulnerable. 

“I hope you have a lovely night, my darling,” he said, his voice quieter now, tinged with something that almost sounded like sorrow. “Ma chère,” he murmured, tilting his head as if bidding farewell to something precious. 

Before you could muster a response, Alastor’s figure stepped between you and the demon. His back was to you, but his presence was unyielding, protective. Without turning fully, he spoke firmly, “Go. Don’t make me repeat myself.” 

Your heart felt heavy, your mind a whirlwind of thoughts as you finally obeyed. With trembling steps, you walked out of the office, leaving the two behind without daring to glance back. 

Now came the hardest part. 

Waiting. 

Standing outside, the minutes dragged on, each one longer than the last. Your thoughts spiralled, dread filling the space left by the closed door. Would it be Alastor who emerged, or the devil? Or worse—would the door open to reveal Alastor lifeless on the floor? 

Clasping your hands tightly, you sank to your knees on the cold ground, closing your eyes as tears pricked your lashes. You prayed, your whispered words trembling as they left your lips. You begged forgiveness from a merciful God for allowing a demon to touch your body, for the sins you had committed, and for the sin you were willing to bear if it meant Alastor would emerge unharmed. 

The only thing you wanted now was for him to be safe.  

Safe, and with you once more. 

The moment the door clicked shut, Alastor turned his glare on the devil who dared call himself his future. “For a devil, you are quite…” he sneered, his sharp teeth glinting, “pathetic.” 

His future self barely flinched, idly inspecting his cuticles as though the insult was nothing more than a passing breeze. “Hmm,” he hummed thoughtfully, raising a brow without lifting his gaze. “I must say, it’s rather odd to look back and see just how foolish I once was.” 

Alastor’s jaw tightened, a vein visibly pulsing at his temple. “You mean to tell me that you’ve clawed your way to becoming an Overlord—one of the highest ranks in Hell, no less—and yet, here you are, chasing after some privileged little gir—" 

“That woman,” his future self interrupted coldly, rising to his full height. His red eyes blazed with a dangerous light, casting an oppressive shadow across the room. “She is my—no, our—love.” 

Alastor scoffed, his disgust palpable. “Love? What rot.” He folded his arms tightly, his long fingers curling into his sleeves as though restraining himself. “I don’t have the time, nor the desire, for such sentimentality. There are far grander things to pursue, far more thrilling paths to follow.” His grin widened, jagged and bloodthirsty. “And I’ve never been one to let anyone dull the taste of the hunt.” 

The future Alastor chuckled low, his voice dipping into something almost pitying. “Ah, yes. Look at you,” he mused, his tone softer now, though no less unsettling. “So young, so single-minded, so…” His eyes flickered with something indecipherable. “...untouched by the weight of eternity.” 

He turned then, pacing with a languid grace, his shadow stretching and twisting unnaturally as he moved. “Eternity, you see, changes a man,” he continued, his voice almost wistful. “It sinks its claws into your mind, warping it, forcing you to reminisce on the past whether you want to or not.” 

Alastor said nothing, his body rigid and his gaze locked on the man pacing before him. Theatrics, he thought with a sneer. It seemed Hell had done nothing but make him more insufferable. 

The future him paused, his back to him now, his shoulders rising and falling with a quiet, steady breath. “She—cher—loved us,” he said softly, the words slipping out like a confession he hadn’t meant to make. When he turned, his expression was unreadable, but his crimson eyes burned. “She stood by us even when she knew. Even after learning our delightful little secret.” 

Alastor’s stomach twisted, though he couldn’t quite say why. He forced his expression to remain unchanged, his grin fixed in place like a mask he’d long since perfected. 

The future him tilted his head, studying him with something that felt far too intimate, as though he could see the cracks beneath the surface. “She looked me in the eyes,” he murmured, his voice softening with the memory, “and she asked,‘Can I stay with you?’” 

Suddenly, he barked out a laugh, loud and bitter, throwing his head back as his hand swept over his face. “Can you believe it? Standing there, dripping in another man’s blood, and she had the gall to ask me if she could stay with me?” 

His laughter died into something quieter, darker. When he looked back at Alastor, his manic grin was gone, replaced by an expression that seemed caught between amusement and sorrow. “How utterly, ridiculously foolish of her,” he said, his voice laced with something tender. 

Alastor’s mask of indifference faltered for just a moment, his mind racing, though his lips curved back into place as quickly as it had fallen. He couldn’t let this man—this thing—see any weakness. But the words lingered, echoing in the silence that followed. 

"Sounds like she stays with me for quite a while," Alastor murmured, his voice low and contemplative. The realization settled into him with a quiet sort of confidence. If the girl remained enamoured with him for an extended period, there would be no need for his future self's assistance. She could keep persuading her father to funnel money into his radio broadcasts. 

He didn't need this thing anymore.

His future self chuckled softly, the sound dark and humorless. “Oh, she does stay with you. And you, in all your stubbornness, deny your feelings for her. Even after your death.” A wry smile curved at his lips, tinged with something far heavier than amusement. “You let her marry another man. You didn’t even stop her wedding.” 

“I had no right to,” Alastor replied flatly, though his jaw tightened imperceptibly. 

“You didn’t kill her husband when he started beating her.” 

“It was no longer my business,” Alastor said through gritted teeth, his fingers curling into tight fists. “What happens between a man and a woman bound by marriage is their affair.” 

The words barely left his mouth before a horrible, grating white noise filled the room. It clawed at his ears, drowning out his thoughts. He staggered slightly, looking up just in time to see his future self begin to unravel. 

His once-dapper figure twisted grotesquely, hair growing shaggy and wild, teeth sharpening into jagged yellow points that glowed unnaturally. His eyes warped, pupils flickering like shifting radio dials. 

“She was hurting,” the figure hissed, his voice a cacophony of static and rage. “And you did nothing to protect her!” 

Dark, gnarled antlers sprouted from his head, resembling the twisted, lifeless branches of a dead tree. His elongated form loomed over Alastor, arms stretching unnaturally as if to choke him, though he stopped just short. 

“She died,” the future self spat, his voice fractured and trembling with fury. “Beaten to death by that pathetic excuse of a husband. You could have saved her! You should have saved her!” He paused, his grinning mask fracturing into countless shards. "I should have saved her. I should have helped her."  His voice became a manic chant, each repetition more unhinged than the last. “Help her… help her… help her!” 

Alastor took several measured steps back, his disgust plain on his face. His eyes burned with disdain as he straightened his posture. “That girl means nothing to me,” he sneered. “She’s just a means to an end. I will never become you.” 

The creature froze mid-motion, his grotesque form suddenly still. His eyes widened, as if struck by an unseen force, before his body began to shrink and contort, growing smaller and smaller. 

“Oh,” he whispered softly, his voice hollow and distant. As his monstrous visage faded, he seemed more man than demon, his expression frozen in something between grief and longing. “She died before you...before me. She was in Hell first…” His gaze fell to the floor, searching for something unseen. “If I’d died first, I could have protected her…from the extermination... If we’d died together…” His voice faltered, trailing off as he stared vacantly at the ground. 

The future self’s eyes widened in a sudden, dawning realization as his body began to dissolve completely. His time was up. 

The future version of himself turned his face sharply toward Alastor, his crimson eyes wide and frenzied, his grin stretching impossibly as if carved into his face. “Help her, help her, help her,” he chanted, his voice trembling with mania and desperation. Each repetition was a dagger, sharp and insistent, stabbing at the silence between them. “You’ll regret it. You’ll—” 

But before the final word left his lips, his form unravelled completely. He vanished like smoke caught in the wind, leaving behind nothing but the faint, chilling echo of his last plea. 

Alastor stood frozen, staring at the empty space where his future self had been. The chair that had grotesquely morphed into a bed returned to its mundane, wooden form with a soft creak. The room fell still, save for the faint metallic tang of blood in the air, remnants of the summoning ritual still staining the floor. 

A low, derisive laugh escaped him, dry and humorless. It reverberated in the quiet room, a hollow sound that dissipated as quickly as it came. “Ridiculous,” he muttered under his breath, straightening his tie with deliberate care. “Utterly ridiculous.” 

There were hundreds, thousands of people suffering in the world. People beaten, broken, and killed every day. Why should one person’s pain matter more than the rest? His muddy brown eyes flicked to the door, the barrier between him and you. He could feel your presence on the other side, waiting. 

Always waiting. 

And yet... 

He shook the thought away, his lips pressing into a tight line. You were nothing but a means to an end. A convenient piece in his grand design. 

Nothing more. 

Nothing less. 

Alastor inhaled deeply as the oppressive, sulphur-laden air of Hell greeted him. The thick atmosphere clung to his skin, sticky and suffocating, as if the very realm wanted to remind him of where he belonged. He was home—or rather, back in his territory. 

He straightened, a flicker of hope igniting within his chest, faint and fragile. Perhaps his younger self had listened. Perhaps the warnings had sunk in, sparing him the endless torment of regret. 

But as he stood there, he felt it—the empty, unchanging void where new memories should have been. Nothing was different. Every moment, every sensation of you, was still confined to the past, untouched by the intervention of his other self. 

His shoulders sank slightly as he pushed open the door to his residence. It groaned on its hinges, a mournful sound that echoed through the dark, cavernous halls. His home was vast yet barren, shadows swallowing the corners of rooms that had long since been abandoned by warmth. 

There was no trace of you. No scent, no sound, no faint whisper of your laughter to greet him. 

Oh. 

A bitter realization settled over him, heavy and unrelenting. He would spend eternity as he always had—without you. Once more. How fitting, he thought, for a sinner like him. 

He pressed his lips against his trembling fingers, his eyes closing as he forced himself to draw upon the fading memory of your face. The way your eyes lit up with that wide, innocent wonder. The delicate flush of your cheeks that sent his chest tightening in ways he’d never admit aloud. 

“You look wonderful today, cher,” he murmured to the silence, his voice soft, almost reverent. Words he’d always thought but never dared to say. 

“My, is that gift for me?” His laughter cracked as he spoke to the void. “You shouldn’t have... Truly, I’ll treasure it.” 

“Did you do something with your hair?” he asked, his tone warm and practised, though his grin faltered. “It looks lovely, cher.” He smiled into the empty room, knowing the words would never reach you. 

Then, his voice fell to a whisper, a confession carried by the air of a hollowed-out life. “Ah... I love you, ma chère. I do.” The words tasted bittersweet, aching with all the emotions he had locked away. “I love you,” he said again, softer this time, like a prayer. “Stay with me?” 

For a fleeting moment, he let himself imagine the impossible. You, smiling that radiant smile that warmed his cold heart. Your arms wrapping around him tightly as you whispered a resounding yes. 

A life he would never know. 

A life he had willingly forfeited. 

Now, all that stretched before him was an eternity without you. 

An eternity of silence. 

@safination and @redfoxwritesstuff this month was your birthday month. So happy birthday baby girl 💖🎂

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[muntitled]

𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐃𝐨𝐨𝐫

Summary: Visiting home brings up old feelings for the boy next door…

Myung Jaehyun x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Boy Next Door AU, Non-idol!AU, Language, Mutual pining, Hyperfeminine!Reader, Childhood friends to lovers, Smut +18 (Minors DNI), dry humping, slight ddlg themes, praise kink, dom/sub themes, Dom!Jaehyun, Needy!Jaehyun, Hyperfeminine!reader, Premature Orgasm, Loser!Jaehyun, Needy sex

The lack of actual boy next door fanfic for Boynextdoor is harrowing...

You did not hate your childhood. In fact, you would venture to say that you should look quite fondly of most of it because most of it had taken place here- in a picturesque wasteland of suburbia, and as you drive through the narrow main road, staring at glimpses of childhood relics, you begin to frown. Every memory was so unequivocally perfect except, maybe, for the ones containing him.

"Can you at least try to sound like you're not going kill yourself while you’re there?" Your best friend's voice drones on from the car speaker. Her words, no matter how valid, elicit an eye roll from you, effectively stopping your journey down memory lane. "It would be awful to have to drive down to your childhood home just because you tried to kill yourself, I refuse to have that be the way you introduce your college best friend to your mother."

"Relax," you affirm in a voice groggy from underuse. Spending an entire 15 hour drive beguiled to your car without any company except for maybe of course your Destiny's Child album and a swelling sea of dread in the pit of your stomach.

This would be the first time in a year that you were visiting your childhood home since you left for college. The first time anyone who mapped the outline of your childhood, would perceive you as the budding, blossoming, depressive adult you have become. You felt like a storm coming back into your picturesque childhood neighbourhood, threatening to sweep everything away. That feeling of dread only doubles when your driveway appears on the bottom of a hill. The cul-de-sac of your childhood with all its trimmed hedges, neat fencing and constantly perfect shudders, sends you hurtling into nostalgia and once again, common ordinary dread.

"What If I just turn the car around right now, would that be bad?"

"I have never met a college student so unhappy to be home-" Your best friend mumbles, "You're going to be living the dream!? Actual balanced meals!? Please take one for the team,"

Almost immediately, her words trigger a rumble of hunger from your stomach and you groan as your car curls into the cul-de-sac. Your heart is hammering in your ear, not for the reasons anyone might think, but because of those memories locked in your childhood. As you drive, you try to keep your eye on your house. Your perfect homely house.

Your eye doesn't even stray to the house beside it!

Honest to God!

Not even once.

"Is there a reason you don't wanna go home so bad?"

"The weather is so bad," you say almost automatically, "I think the line's about to cut,"

"Bitch, you only avoid my line of questioning like this when it's about some dick-"

"Jeez, the weather’s messing with the connection."

"If you drop this call TRUST you will be dealt w-"

"I'll call when I unpack, love you-" when you drop the call, your car is parked in the driveway and your shoulders are slumped over. You contemplate waiting around in the driveway until some relative forcibly pulls you out but that thought is quickly made obsolete when you hear a harsh knocking on the door. Your stress levels gravitate to an all time high as you watch him, waving frantically at you from the other side of the glass. His smile is bright and just as crooked as ever. His wave is frantic and energetic; Jaehyun is practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, so unequivocally happy to reunite with his childhood best friend.

His only friend. The return of that voice in your head is one of things you had been anticipating on this trip. Mainly because your childhood had been riddled with so much self esteem issues, your feelings practically metamorphosed into that voice you now hear now. That's all you'll ever be to him. All you've ever been, Your mind remarks in a distasteful spit of venom.

"Get your face off of my windows unless cleaning my car for the foreseeable future is a job you're actually interested in." You say coolly as you slide out of the vehicle. Jaehyun gives space for you to stretch, all while shuffling from one foot to the next, picking at the sleeves of his flannel with a dopey smile like he was one second away from proudly telling you he 'frew up at school'.

"Still as homicidal as ever." He says your name with a familiarity that nearly knocks you unconscious. You focus on lifting your arms to the air, and ironing out tje various aches in your back.

"How long has your ass been waiting here anyway?" It's Jaehyun's turn to nearly evade eye contact at your question. He finds it exceedingly difficult to follow along with what you're saying when you so very clearly have boobs now.

"Since my mom told me you'll be back,” He says before immediately adding, “hey- how long have those been there?" You drop your arms with furrowed brows as you look at him.

"What?"

You await a response that doesn't arrive. Jaehyun only points nonchalantly towards your chest. You look down at your v-neck and back at Jaehyun. "I don't know what you're talking about," you roll your eyes as you shuffle past him.

"YOU HAVE BOOBS NOW?!” He exclaims, “EW-"

You turn around to face him, pushing your acrylic nail into his sternum, "I've always had tits- sh-shut up-"

"You literally finished high school without them. I would have noticed as the tiddy connoisseur, trust me."

You find yourself embarrassed, not by his avid teasing (this is something you've been forced to deal with every single day of your childhood and adolescence,) but you find your stomach warming for completely different reasons. Your Jaehyun-obsessed brain wants to pick apart and dissect his entire statement. Maybe he's finally noticing you now? Maybe this age-old crush will evaporate and metamorphose into something else.

You cannot speak because your nail is still digging intently at his sternum and he's staring down at you, as if waiting for whatever venom laced comeback you had waiting for him.

All you're able to focus on however, is the way in which you're staring intently at each other. For him, this proximity is probably nothing, but for you... "Also when you get in there, please for, the love of God, act surprised."

The spell is immediately broken and you're once again brought back down to earth.

The cul-de-sac.

The driveway.

The afternoon sun, surrounded by a cooling breeze.

"Please don't tell me I'm about to walk into another family dinner," your eyes grew heavy with fatigue at just the mere thought of all your family dinners before. 'Family' being used very loosely because he always somehow found himself in every single one.

"You know how our moms can get," you did. You really did.

"Ugh," you exclaim, trudging up the house steps, "1 hour of this and I'm done." Your hand pauses before the doorknob and you turn to Jaehyun with a bored, almost questioning stare. "Aren't you gonna get my things?"

His grins a wolfish grin before clutching at the t-shirt under his flannel, "Oh how I've missed being bossed around by you-"

"Fuck you-" You chuckle out. Jaehyun only turns his torso sloppily as he continues walking to your car.

"A guy could hope!"

And just like that, that smile is gone. The moment is sour. Because whatever he meant, you knew from childhood experience that it did not mean what you wanted it to.

-

Meeting everyone all at once had been as jarring as you expected it to be. You ceremoniously heeded Jaehyun's advice, acting so completely shocked when your relatives and Jaehyun's family yelled 'Surprise' in unison. Everyone was sporting smiles that crinkled their eyes and arms open for hugs. Before you were made privy to every line of questioning surrounding school, Jaehyun's mom swept you into her arms.

"How's is my daughter in law-" there was no time for her to watch you grow tense at her words because Jaehyun who was lugging your luggage in, calmly affirmed, "She has tits now, apparently-"

"MYUNG JAEHYUN-"

The evening had progressed with all the domesticity that you lacked during college and you found yourself at immense ease throughout dinner. Home is still home. Jaehyun is still Jaehyun. Everything that once was, still is and you took a second after dinner to ruminate in the feelings of comfort seeping into your entire being.

That is until your mother ruined it by inserting a very unnecessary, wholly uncalled for fact during dessert drudgery.

"Any boys on campus?"

"It's campus," you snorted as you stuffed your face with malva pudding, "of course there are boys," Throughout the course of your dinner, Jaehyun, who is dutifully seated directly beside you, has taken to swinging his leg against yours. A provocation from childhood that you almost immediately latch onto until you are both playing a violent game of footsies under the table.

"No boys to smooch on campus," Jaehyun speaks up, petulantly puckering his lips at you. All you're able to do is try and ignore him which proves to be a dangerous feat.

"I should think there's a new boy." Your mom says before pointing at you and Jaehyun with the flick of her utensils, "The primary school crush you two had on each other has gone on for way too-"

"MOM!?"

Your mother's slip of the tongue instantly grabs all of Jaehyun's attention. He's perking up in his seat like a rottweiler at attention with his head snapped in your direction.

"Crush?" His eyes falter, scanning the side of your face as if he was perceiving you anew. All traces of a smile are gone as he dumbly asks "What crush?"

"I've been driving for an insane amount of hours," you begin by pushing yourself out of your dining chair, "I should unpack and get to bed-"

"W-Wait I can help." You glare daggers at Jaehyun, that look alone should be enough to stop him from rising from his seat.

"Don't be rude. Your best friend hasn't seen you in ages" your mother scolds, lightly prompting your hands to curl at your sides, "We'll take care of the dishes."

-

Your ascension up the stairs had been charged with tension and filled with something else entirely. You walk ahead of Jaehyun as if trying to distract yourself from his presence, but everything about him is so completely there, "I can feel you staring at my ass," you mumble, needing to fill the air with something, anything at all as you reach the upstairs landing. "Guilty," he says as he follows you into your childhood room which is much the same.

Jaehyun beelines for your twin bed, almost immediately flinging himself on the childish quilted bedspread. "This place is still the same..."

"So are you actually going to be useful, because if not," you fold your arms as you stare him down, "You can leave?"

His mouth hangs open in a lopsided grin as he reaches around to grab at the very first plushie he finds. One of many.

"You still sleep with these?" He asks instead, as if your question meant nothing at all. He plays idly with the stuffed dinosaur in his hands as he leans his head back against the pillows. Seeing him here, amongst your things, brought an avalanche of nostalgia and a wave of hopelessness. He is still so attractive, even after all these years.

You sigh, "Jaehyun if you're not gonna-"

"So was that true?" There it is. The shotgun question that had been hanging like damp washing between the two of you. With your nerves shot to hell, you decide to lower your behind on the very edge of the twin bed as you busy your hands with folding your clothes. Your back is turned to him but you can feel those piercing, smiling eyes watching you.

"Is what true?"

"C'mon, don't do that,'' there is a noise of shuffling behind you. Your heart hammers in its cage with the dip in the bed sheets and you can feel him seated directly behind you. You look down at your lap to find that he's placed your plushie there, as if to distract you from the fact that his legs were now framing yours, his front pressed against your back.

"You know what," he whispers straight into your ear, sounding as serious as you've ever heard him.

Craning your neck backwards to let your eyes fall on Jaehyun would prove to be a cataclysmic mistake. It only heightens the wobble in your voice as you say, "The crush I had on you was juvenile and childish and frankly didn't mean any-"

"Dude..." he whispers, eyes seemingly boring into every single square inch of your face, "I've dreamt about being your boyfriend since I fucking found out what a boyfriend is." His words knock the breath cleanly out of your lungs and your voice grows quiet as he lifts his hand to the side of your face. "What..."

"Yeah!"

His voice is loud and boisterous but you're still somehow locked tightly in your stupor.

"Nu uh," you mumble, your eyes daringly drifting across his lips, "You're lying?"

"How am I lying, angel?" you suck in a deep breath because his thumb is rubbing dizzying circles against your cheek now and his voice has descended a gravelly octave. He dips his head down, experimentally placing a feathlight kiss on the corner of your bottom lip. So innocent, but charged with so many expletives, the possibilities rush straight to your clit.

Still, you soldier on.

"B-Because remember what you said at our grade 6 dance?"

He's not listening. He's not listening because he's finally got a taste of you and he'd be damned if he didnt get more. Jaehyun cranes your neck until you're facing forward once more and you gasp when his lips descend on the skin between your neck and shoulder. "Enlighten me," he mumbles against your skin, placing more featherlight kisses there before he quickly grows bored and decides to stick out his tongue experimentally. You turn into molten clay in his hands and the whimper that escapes you is borderline pornagraphic. This is the stuff all Jaehyun's previous fantasies are made of.

"W-When you asked me out- you said..." your voice drifts off because Jaehyun can't help but let his right hand reach around until he squeezes your torso impossibly closer. All the pudge, all the skin, all the ways he's been dreaming about having you this close and you were there for the taking this whole time.

"Fuck, I'm obsessed with you…" He says, and he does a very odd thing. He buries his face in your neck and just sniffs. This momentary slip of weakness allows you to regain some of your senses as you say,

"Y-You asked me to be your date," Jaehyun is drunk on the very scent of you now and his cock throbs as he brings you impossibly closer against his lap,

"What else did I say, baby," he wants you to carry on talking. Anything that might distract you from wanting him to leave. Anything that might keep you here just a little longer. His cock throbs at that thought alone and it has him rubbing against your skin like a dog in heat.

"Y-You said you didn't have anyone else to go with-" you suck in a deep breath through your air as Jaehyun's hand venture underneath your shirt. He slithers his hand up in a hurry until his cool fingertips are grazing the flesh of your breasts. Like a crazed adolescent driven by his hormones alone, he pulls your bra down, all while tonguing and licking at your neck like his life depended on it.

"S'sorry," he mumbles incoherently behind you, and his hand on the side of your face cranes your head backwards so that you're facing him once more, "So'so'sorry," he places a sloppy, apologetic kiss on your mouth which immediately triggers a very deep desire that is almost as old as you are.

"I wanted you so bad-" you admit with a gasp, and Jaehyun feels your confession shoot straight down his spine. He plasters his front into your backside, pressing his hips against your ass in an apparent wave of lust.

"I've always needed you," he ventures to admit, pressing his bulge against your backside as if needing to persuade you further.

Those words of affirmation are all you need , all you've needed for a lifetime and you immediately turn until you're lumbering onto him before letting your knees frame his hips. His hands instinctively grip onto, your supple, full hips and the feeling of your softness on top of him alone is enough to have him groaning into the air as his hips stutter up at you.

While you crash your lips against his once more you lift yourself away but his hips follow, "The fuck are you doing!?" He mumbles against your lips before biting lightly at your bottom lip.

"Too heavy," you mumble, "I don't wanna be too hea-"

Your words dissolve in your throat and in its place, a yelp escapes as Jaehyun forcibly pulls you down onto his sweatpants-clad lap. "You did this to me," he says, watching you intently as if scolding you, "You did this to me and now you wanna run away?" He scoffs as his hands begins to guide your hips against his. You're both in very flimsy material. Him in his sweatpants and you in similar attire except your sweatpants were a dusky pink. "Youre so pretty grinding on me like that fuck-" he speaks quickly and fluidly as he leans backward onto your bed, making more space to watch you grind yourself on top of him.

His attention is utterly intoxicating and so you do nothing but listen when he says, "Take your top off, baby-"

You peel the item of clothing off, unclipping your bra with all the speed and sloppiness that came with your lust-filled fog/ Jaehyun doesn't help. He's all too focused on guiding your hips against his, watching you face contort into pleasure.

"Pants," he says, needing to see more of your open-mouthed moans, "Take your pants off," he whispers, "Make a mess on me," he swallows thickly, "Please,"

You lift yourself to momentarily push your sweatpants, Jaehyun lifts himself momentarily to grab at your stuffed animal.

"Whatre you-" When you straddle him again, you're completely naked while he's fully clothed. The juxtaposition only elicits another wave of lust. "Hold this while you ride me," he stuffs your plushie against your chest, watching your mouth hang open as you lower your clit onto his bulge,

"O-Oh my fuck, Jaehyun-"

"Just like that, angel, fuck,' he throws his head back momentsrily stumped by the weight of his pleasure. He's trying to be dominant for you. He's trying to keep his control for you, but you're moving your hips against his, with his bulge between your legs, using him for absolute filth. It ruins him entirely.

His voice cracks when he lifts his head to look up at you and say, "Oh my god, you feel so fucking good, oh my god," When Jaehyun curses, your cunt only presses down harder against him, prompting a needier response out of you.

Jaehyun swallows thickly, "Use me, baby," he says, "F-Fuck, just fucking use me," his hips stutter upwards and his hands on your sides grip you so tightly you know it'll leave marks. "Doing s-so well for me. Youre doing so fucking well-"

He watches with an open mouth at your tits, so pillowy and full, bouncing as you rub yourself against him and he completely loses it.

"Fuck- p-please cum, I need to cum so bad-" Jaehyun gasps, wracking another torrid moan out of you as you descend almost immediately into your orgasm. Jaehyun watches with an open mouth and half lidded eyes, unable to stop himself from fucking up into you. He wraps his arm against your waist and buries his face in your chest. You rake your fingers through his hair and he shivers

"No way you just made me cum in my pants," he is so incredibly overcome with embarrassment, he dreads having to look up at you.

"I'm sorry," he whispers.

"No, Jaehyun, its-"

"I mean about not being honest sooner. That was bad of me, he mumbles into your chest and you chuckle at his petulance, "I'm sorry,"

"Apology accepted for making me wait so long..."

<3

© to @mphountitled on tumblr; do not repost

[jaal-ama-daravv]

dissecting the mortal emmrich romance path scene

dissecting the graveyard scene

mortal vs lich romance path

emmrich x rook cinematic (mortal)

lich version dissecting the alternate romance path dissecting the argument scene (lich path) dissecting the romance scene (lich path) emmrich x rook cinematic

welcome back my dears

Emmrich Volkarin - Choosing Mortality/Resurrecting Manfred

gonna start with how MUCH I love rook defending emmrich and therefore instilling confidence in him throughout the game, however it is particualry noticeable in this segment.

more

oh yes

after being knocked on his ass from johanna skeleton construct he is visibly hurt, but this is both physical and emotional pain. I implore you once again to read The Flame Eternal for context behind Emmrich and Johanna.

emmrich's fear of death and cowardice rearing its head in the face of untold danger, until our beloved manfred makes the ultimate sacrifice, and demonstrates great courage.

oh baby, thats the stuff. Rook instilling confidence in her necromancer.

god is real and he is a hot necromancer. look at the confidence surge through him.

moving on

The scene cuts to Emmrich and Rook at the Necropolis asking to revive Manfred. Emmrich seeks out the advice from the Lich Lords of the Necropolis who inform that there are ways to return his spirit, at a cost -

alright here we go. If emmrich chooses manfreds life over accepting his death, he will no longer be able to achieve lichdom as emmrich wouldve have failed to accept death as a natural part of life. in emmrich relinquishing lichdom and choosing to revive manfred instead it delves deep into his character. for emmrich to give up lichdom would mean admitting that some things mean more to him than his fear of death - that choosing to live, that he could choose to be couragous, and face life head on, in spite of inevitable death. emmrich is a known coward, but this - choosing this path, means being resilent, being courageous, overcoming cowardice in the name of love.

it should also be noted that in the lich romance path, during the arguemnt scene, emmrich is not able to accept the inevitable death of rook. THEREFORE -

im telling you. man goes rogue, full blown, scarlet WITCH, rogue.

back to the mortal side -

this is actually tragic. if you know both romance paths for emmrich, you know that regardless of which path emmrich follows, he does not accept death when it comes to himself, his love, or manfred. he just cant. this game portrays regret wonderfully, so wonderfully i cry.

Rook's right, emmrich is much braver than he thinks. he rushes off to help rook FIGHT GODS, facing death every day considering we all know a romanced rook takes him on every mission. emmrich has also mentioned TWICE that rook inspires him, with how they have travelled so much, and how they are indomitable.

dont get me started on how confident he is in act 3. it makes me giggle.

this next line has confused a number of people so let me put my spin on it and break it down -

Death's abyss - referring to the act of dying, and emmrichs fear of death always recedes - the fear of death dissapears with someone to brave it for - inferring to rook, facing death and being brave is easier with rook in his life

these two are made for eachother. mourn watch rook in particular, the love, desire, and connection OOZES that destiny. and my heart, explodes.

This could also be interpreted as wanting to brave death's abyss for manfred, but from a romanced rook perspective, it makes more sense for it be considered as rook. and im unsure what unromanced looks like yet - so im going with that.

this line reiterates my point that the above line is referring to rook. facing alot of things would be easier if manfred was back... like idk, rooks death, maybe.

I cant tell you how much love shoots through my body knowing emmrich wants to face death and brave it for rook. which also makes the argment scene more tragic in a way, but we'll get there dear friends.

In choosing this path, Emmrich demonstrates resilence. and whilst he regrets the lose of lichdom, he knows that he has chosen the life he has always dreamed of. a life of love. a life with his eternal flame, rook. a life with their magic flinging skeleton son, manfred. an undying love that transcends. emmrich has yearned for the love he has in his life now, for a very, very long time. talking 45 odd years here. the man is terrfied, and lichdom was a way to avert his fears, but this, he is truly happy, despite his fears.

@askfordoodles reminded me of a banter dialogue that is available between Emmrich and Davrin. They discuss their sons, Assan and Manfred, and Davrin states, "What have we signed up for?", where Emmrich responds, "Love, I think." and yes, that most defintiely includes rook. emmrich, chose love. whilst it is stated that lichdom is his lifes work and dream. coming from someone who also overworks and grinds out work to get through the weight of the day without a thought of vulnerability. I understand him. When a chance of love opens its doors, its scary, a chance to be hurt. this man took that chance, to have the family he never had growing up. and never believed he would achieve. rook gave him back his heart and made him stronger for it. emmrich chose to pursue the life that his parents would've wanted for him. the thought...the dream.. that confirms his romance.

im not crying, you are. holy shit.

keep in mind this is man who grew up poor and alone. he has low self-esteem and never believed he was worthy, let alone would find the type of soul devouring love he craved. that love that you would go to the end of the earth for.

my heart is full.

He calls himself a coward on a frequent basis. but here? what growth. whilst his fear of death may never leave him, it is significantly easier with rook that loves him as deeply as he does. and manfred, a son to pass his knowledge onto.

it then ends with Emmrich stating that in regards to him giving up lichdom for manfred, he would not exchange the life he has now for anything. his now family -

"The Volkarins"

short-ish post, but the next one will be very long where I'll touch more on Emmrichs personality traits more in the argument scene as this is where his traits really shine through, see you soon ♥

[clairewritesfanfics]

Inside an Otoge: Mister Dragon, Let Me Love You MASTERLIST

Pairing: Dragon!Sylus x Non-MC!Reader

Synopsis: A depressed, transmigrated fan dedicates their life worshipping their favorite character. (Because not everyone can be a badass like MC.)

Do not let the name fool you. This story contains the following trigger warnings: mild depictions of violence, suicide attempts, suicide ideation, detrimental escapism, depression, self-harm, and a Y/N who struggles with mental health.

Your Character Settings: Gender Neutral, Non-MC

Chapter 1: Another Isekai Plot

Chapter 2: Enticing Offers

Chapter 3: Restrained Desires

Chapter 4: This Flower Cannot Bear Fruit

Chapter 5: Irreplaceable

Chapter 6: When Destiny Knocks

Chapter 7: Coming soon.

[A message from writerclaire: This story is also available on AO3 in case you prefer the format there.]

Disclaimer: The image of Sylus used in this post does not belong to writerclaire, it is an official image from the game itself.

ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊

MAIN MASTERLIST

Any questions for the author? Ask here.

[magnoliaswriteatsunset]

I watched a reel showing what Zayne said after being gone for 30 days. I can’t help but wonder about something.

Imagine this:

We are the MC. We are because we customized her and the cafe can show time passing from morning to evening, then night based on the time of where we are/the server. Usually, we/MC always tells the guys/chosen love interest(s) if we are leaving. We can say good night and hello when we meet.

But something bugs me.

When we exit the game and leave for 30 days, sometimes less, sometimes more, they send messages. Try to get in touch. Search the spots we frequent. Check in on things we left behind to keep them in order and in good shape for when we return. They don’t know when we’ll come back. If we’ll ever come back. All they know how to do is wait. Wait for someone who seems to have disappeared off the face of the planet.

A thought occurred to me.

What if the reason no one can find us, and the reason no one else seems too concerned, is because in their world once we exit the game, MC, us, our avatar, the only way for us to show and give our love to the guys, ceases to exist, but are not completely erased.

The side characters are none the wiser, believing we were sent away on a classified mission or simple were too busy to socialize with their peers. However, the love interests are different. They are aware of the situation to some extent, at the least. They know us well by now. They know we wouldn’t disappear without good reason. And the threats surrounding us are ever present. But something’s off. If that were true, and we were taken by force, they know we wouldn’t go without a fight. They know we would have left traces of *something* behind. Anything. From a knocked over glass to cameras watching over Linkon. They would have found it. But no. It’s like once we step foot outside the game, out side of Destiny Cafe, we simply cease to exist.

The space itself is empty, save for the lone chair the love interests lounge in, only allowing one at a time. No staff to take your order, no customers chatting idly in the background as they sip on their drinks and eat whatever food they bought earlier, no people passing by the windows or coming in and out of the building. Just us, our love interest, and this empty space all to ourselves, playing music of our choice non-stop.

I think we forget, at times, that we have more power over this “world” than we realize. That our choices, feelings and thoughts have sway over how we perceive their world.

But what really gets me, is that it’s as though there is mutual comfort to be found.

Comforting us by easing our worries, waiting for us, the world refusing to turn unless we arrive. Comforting them by interacting with them, touching them, conversing with them, sometimes reacting to what is going on beyond the screen in eerily perfect timing, even though they don’t know what’s actually going on. They are just programmed to do so. Nothing more, nothing less.

Here’s what gets me, though.

We have all this interaction, all this time together, chatting, studying, working (while trying to act like or blatantly staring at each other), playing, or even sleeping together (literally just sleeping, like a nap with the phone on because your too exhausted to exit beforehand). Then suddenly, it’s like we’re a ghost. Gone. No one else has seen us. The only thing left is the echoes of where we once stood.

I wonder,

Do they wait in that chair, acting as though we exist beyond those cafe walls? As if they’ll find us on a walk in the park or fighting to protect Linkon? Do they sit and wait, switching out from time to time to try and see who will get to be in the cafe when you arrive?

So many questions.

Perhaps, in their world, you are the only thing that helps time move forward. Everything else feels flat and stagnant. As their whole world encompasses this small room.

Do you know?

Do you understand what they do while they wait?

Do you feel the same longing and yearning for them as they do for you?

Do you wait? For them? Or is the world around you able to keep you company? Unlike their own. At least, not the way yours does.

Will you ever get to be with them? No longer being stuck behind a screen and wall of code. Would you still love them, without that safety net? Or would it be too much for either of you to bear?

…..

I deviated a bit from where I originally planned to go but I’ll expand more on these later. What do you think? What ideas are bouncing around in that brain of yours? (I also put stuff down in the tags if your interested by it’s mostly just little note from me.

[gladiatorcunt]

Feral feral Anakin fucking you every second of the day because he can’t get enough of you and is overly obsessed

send me coryo, luke castellan, or anakin asks (this is a threat)

implied canon compliant prequels and childhood friend afab royalty reader (basically in padme's place) based on an upcoming fic

This is canon Anakin behavior actually, he's like a big dog with his favorite chew toy. The dog obviously loves the toy a lot but it's because of his love that the toy becomes well used. No matter how tattered it becomes, the dog will still curl around it and spend its days licking the hell out of it until it withers away.

I think that because of how he grew up, just a little boy on some ball of sand whose life really didn't belong to him, as soon as he's free from that he just unravels. I love Anakin being written as more unhinged or even slightly like an eldritch horror, because suddenly he has this big destiny laid out in front of him and the tethers holding his soul together inevitably come unhooked. I think that he's wired like that from the beginning, very passionate but without a means to express it.

So, when he meets you, little royal heir with all the stars of the galaxy in your eyes, he tells a familiar story about an angel and from then on, it's over for him. Every moment of his life orbits around the sun in his solar system, you.

The first think he thinks when he sees you again, is how your moans would echo off the windows when he eats you out on one of the couches. Then he imagines your perfectly manicured hands clawing delicious ribbons down his back while he rabidly pounds your sopping wet pussy against the wall of your huge walk-in closet in your apartment. He'd have to hold a hand over your mouth, but he wouldn't do a thing to clean up the slicks that drips out of your pussy onto the floor. You'd pout as you'd rush to get ready before Obi-Wan came back, and all he'd be able to do in response is hook his chin over your shoulder and smile.

"No, it's because I'm so in love with you."

You're leaning against a balcony overlooking a lake in Naboo and all he can think about as he strokes a shy finger down your back is hiking your dress up and bending you over it. You're chained to a pillar in between him and Obi-Wan, and when all is said and done, he wishes he killed everybody that was relishing in your suffering in that arena and fucked you with their blood coating his body. He could go on forever until the last grain of sand on Tatooine flies away. He'd have gotten you barefoot and pregnant immediately if the leash around his neck was any looser.

No matter the fantasy or the moment, you always have at least one mark on you. He's not patient enough for hickies and his fingers move too quickly for any serious bruises to form on your body. He favors bite marks, near perfect impressions of his teeth etched in your soft skin. He doesn't bite to tear, just does his repeated 'chomp!'s without a single thought in his head; your thighs bear the brunt of it. Anakin likes when drops of blood bead at the surface of the bites, because then he can lick the bites soothingly. You usually have to run your fingers through his hair to get him to come back to himself when he starts doing it on autopilot with his eyes rolled back.

"Yes, yes, yessssss.... love fucking my cunt, missed making love to my sloppy pussy. Taking my dick so well, keep breathing with me, my love. That's it, just like that."

His way of saying good morning is languid strokes deep in your guts. His way of saying good night is crazed thrusts that have him putting it back it when his frenzied pace causes his length to slip out. He has is so hard sometimes, determined to carry the entire galaxy on his shoulders with you on top of it. You can the rising anger that builds within him when everything he does to prove himself goes unrecognized. The best way he has to ignore all of that outside responsibility is knocking your sweaty body up the bed while you're clutching the headboard for dear life.

Anakin's emotions bleed from him so openly, and all you have to do is drink them in. Because even though he wasn't free when he met you, you owned him them with his gift around your neck. You own him now, your cervix kissing his mushroom tip in its own display of affection. He is supposed to live his life with the intention to be the force's son, but he is burning to ash faster than he is fulfilling his destiny; at least he can keep you and your future children warm.

[remmickslvt]

Pleading With Fate (NSFW 18+)

Okay for starters, I LOVE the idea of touch-starved, borderline pathetic, begging Remmick.  That shit gets me going.  JUST SAYING. 

You had just moved into an old farmhouse in Mississippi.  It needed plenty of work, so you spent your days working on projects around the house, not getting out much unless it was for small errands.  Recently, you had noticed who you guessed was your neighbor milling about, shooting you nervous glances and awkward waves.  You wondered when he was going to appear on your porch and finally introduce himself... 

The picture frames were finally hung in your entry, surrounding you with the illusion that your family and friends had come with you on this journey.  They had urged you to stay, that this wasn’t going to work, that you’d hate it down south.  Despite their fleeting efforts to keep you chained to “home”, you persisted that you needed to space and time alone to figure out your path in life.  Solidarity had always been your thing, especially now in your mid-twenties.  You hadn’t had a serious relationship in over five years, and you had started to become convinced that maybe settling down wasn’t your destiny.  That was okay, you had wanted to move down here and start fresh, clear your mind, meet new people.  Which, for the record, hadn’t really happened yet.  You sighed seemingly along with the house, as the heat of the sinking day light elicited creaks and groans of the aged structure.  As you turned your back to the front door, a soft knock echoed through the entryway.  You stopped and slowly turned back around, waiting for another sound.  You crept towards the peephole, uneasiness pricking the back of your neck.  This time, the knock rang out slightly louder, more urgently.  You held your eye, and your breath, to the hole, and on your porch stood your neighbor.  He was looking nervously around, almost clinging to the door as he raised his fist to knock again.  Before he could, you cracked open a gap just large enough for your face to lean through.  

“Ah, I was just about to knock again, sorry if I startled ya.” the man chuckled awkwardly, his eyes darting around and avoiding your gaze.  

“No, I was just on the other side of the door anyway, just putting things away.  Sorry, who are you?” you then pulled the door all the way open and faced the man. 

He stopped his fidgeting and finally his eyes met yours.  They were almost black, with a tinge of what appeared to be red.  His mussed dark hair fell onto his forehead and curled around the tops of his ears, and a days' worth of stubble dotted his square-set jaw and upper lip.  His white button-down fit snugly over broad shoulders and thick arm muscle, the type earned from working long days in the field.  A thin gold chain rested on his collarbone, tucked underneath the collar of his shirt.  Blue suspenders hugged his pecs, clasping onto a weathered black belt with a square gold buckle, which held up his black trousers.  His lips curled into a sneer.  “I’m your neighbor, darlin’.  Name’s Remmick.” 

You extended your arm past the threshold of the front door to shake his hand.  His grip was firm, his calloused hands rough against your soft skin.  Your eyes locked and you felt his energy, unsure if it was pure or something sinister, sear into your mind like hot candle wax on a frozen lake.  Solidifying once it penetrated through.  Almost in a trance, not breaking eye contact, you felt yourself pulling him towards the entrance.  “Do you wanna come in?” 

His smile grew, and as it widened, long, glistening fangs emerged into view, but it was too late, he was already across the threshold.  “Absolutely.” He slammed the door behind him as he backed you against the wall, his breath hot against your neck as his lips brushed against your skin. 

“W-what are you..” your voice trailed off as he softly kissed, raising his hand to rest against your collarbone.  Long, bony, white claws slithered up your neck as he continued to gently suck on your neck.  You suddenly snapped out of whatever fog you were in and shoved his weight off of you.  Although his efforts aroused you, you weren’t going to make it that easy.  You pointed to the floor, and he followed with his eyes, then snapped his head back up with a puzzled tilt of his head. 

“On your knees.” You demanded, curling your lips up in a devilish grin and regarding him through half-lidded eyes.  He raised his eyebrows as his eyes widened, yet he shakily dropped to the floor in front of you. 

“Yes, ma’am.”  You took a step forward and grabbed his chin, forcing him to look up at you as you ran your thumb over his lower lip.  His lips parted in response, and he swallowed nervously.  You took your other hand and ran your fingers through his hair, and at your touch he shakily inhaled.  “Please, whatever you’re doin’, lass, just let me touch you.” 

You sneered and grabbed a clump of hair, eliciting a sharp gasp followed by a deep growl from Remmick.  He lurched forward, and you dropped to the ground with a gasp, backing yourself up to the staircase as he fixed a pure, predatory stare into your eyes.  He was on you suddenly, practically crawling over top of your body, thick strands of drool dripping from the corners of his mouth.  He looked hungry.  Ravenous.  Despite his sudden dominance, he still hadn’t touched you.  “You must understand, darlin,” his eyes softened momentarily, “I crave you.”  The hardness of the wood steps digging into your spine caused your back to arch slightly, and with a swift movement Remmick’s arm slid under your body.  He pulled you up closer to him, his strength catching you off-guard as he brought your figure upwards to press against his chest.  Your eyelids fluttered as you stared into his now deep scarlet gaze, your own need for touch beginning to knot in your abdomen.  You then grabbed hold of the collar of his shirt and pulled him into you, your lips colliding with a soft moan of surprise from Remmick.  He gripped your side still as he deepened the kiss by rolling his hips slowly into yours, his clothed member nudging the growing wetness between your thighs.  You sharply inhaled at the contact, and he withdrew his arm from underneath you and moved his hand to underneath your dress.  Slowly, he ran his long claws from your belly to your waist, caressing each line on your hips as he made his way downward.  He pulled your panties to the side, still nipping at and sucking your bottom lip as you began to squirm underneath him.  He paused, waiting for the whisper of please to emerge into the kiss, then indulged by slipping one finger, then two into your nearly dripping core.  The ball of his hand rested against your clit as he thrusted his fingers in and out of you, your soft moans revving him up even more.  Just as soon as he had started, he stopped, breaking away from the kiss only to suck his fingers of your sweet juices.   

“Let me feel ya, darlin.  Please.” Lust had clouded his vision, he only saw you.  He looked at you as if he were on the edge of life and death and you were the antidote.  Like he needed your body as much as he needed blood.  You bit your lip and nodded, your core throbbing for him.  He wasted no time unbuckling his trousers, once again attacking your mouth and swirling his tongue around for dominance.  He entered you suddenly and roughly, immediately pounding into you while pulling your hips into his with each thrust.  Your head fell back against the stair above you, your back curving over two more while you almost sat on the next ledge.  That curve allowed Remmick to hit your cervix with each drilling thrust, your climax climbing quickly.  He lowered his head to your neck once again and with a deep, primal, almost animalistic snarl, he sank his fangs into your muscle, the sudden flow of hot blood causing him to fuck you even harder.  You groaned and despite the sharp, piercing pain shooting through your body, your high bubbled over the top and sent you spiraling into pleasure, your orgasm coursing through you with deep shudders and your nails raking into Remmick’s back.  Unlatching from your neck with blood running down his chin and down the front of his chest, his orgasm overtook him, blurring his vision as he filled you with his seed.  He threw his head back and moaned as he guided your hips through the sloppy comedown, thick trails of blood and saliva dripping onto your chest.  Your walls clenched around his length, milking him of every drop of cum as he emptied deep inside you.  He pulled out shakily and collapsed on top of you, your heaving breaths falling in synch as he laid against your bloodstained chest, your wound still pouring.  Your limbs began to tingle in response to the blood loss, yet you still raised a bloody hand to cup his face.   

“When I wake up, we’re going another round.”