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pucksandpower · 2 months

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To Hell With Duty

Lewis Hamilton x soulmate!Reader

Summary: you’ve always known that being Princess of the UK means that a soulmate is a luxury you can’t afford … but then you meet your soulmate and decide that some things are worth turning your back on duty for

Warnings: abusive family dynamics

Note: I promised to write something in honor of Lewis’ win and this was born (now I’m tempted to make a soulmate AU series)

The sun blazes overhead as you step out of the sleek black car, your designer heels clicking against the pavement. The roar of engines and the excited chatter of the crowd at Silverstone envelop you, but you can barely hear them over the pounding of your own heart.

“Your Royal Highness, this way please,” a smartly dressed aide gestures towards the paddock area.

You nod, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. As you walk, you absently rub your wrist, feeling the slight raised bumps of your soulmate mark beneath the carefully applied concealer.

“I wish you didn’t have to hide it,” your best friend and lady-in-waiting, Sophie, whispers beside you.

“You know I don’t have a choice,” you murmur back, glancing around to ensure no one overheard.

The memory of your brother’s ordeal flashes through your mind, as vivid and painful as the day it happened ...

“No, please! You can’t do this!” Edward’s anguished cries echoed through the palace halls.

You huddled in your room, hands pressed over your ears, trying to block out the sound. But nothing could drown out your brother’s screams as the royal physician burned away his soulmate tattoo.

Later, when you snuck into his room, you found him curled up on his bed, cradling his bandaged wrist.

“Eddie?” You whispered, your voice small and frightened.

He looked up at you, his eyes red and puffy. “Y/N ... I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

You climbed onto the bed beside him. “Why did they do it? Why can’t you be with your soulmate?”

Edward sighed, pulling you close. “Because we’re royals, little sister. Our marriages are about duty, not love. Soulmates ... they’re a luxury we can’t afford.”

“But that’s not fair!” You protested.

“No, it’s not,” he agreed, his voice hollow. “But it’s the price we pay for our position. Promise me something, Y/N. If you ever find your soulmate ... run. Run far away and don’t look back.”

The memory fades as Sophie gently squeezes your arm, bringing you back to the present.

“Are you okay?” She asks, concern etched on her face.

You take a deep breath, straightening your shoulders. “I’m fine. Let’s get this over with.”

As you make your way through the paddock, you can’t help but feel a twinge of envy at the carefree laughter and excitement around you. Everywhere you look, people are proudly displaying their soulmate tattoos, some comparing them with friends, others stealing glances at strangers, wondering if today might be the day they meet their perfect match.

“Your Royal Highness,” a race official greets you with a bow. “We’re honored to have you here today. If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to the VIP area.”

You nod, allowing yourself to be led through the crowded paddock. The official drones on about the day’s schedule, but your mind wanders.

“What do you think your soulmate is like?” Sophie had asked you once, years ago, when you were both giggling teenagers.

“I don’t know,” you had replied, tracing the words on your wrist. “But I hope they’re kind. And funny. Someone who sees me for who I am, not just my title.”

“You’ll find them one day,” Sophie had said confidently. “And when you do, it’ll be magical.”

Now, surrounded by the bustle and excitement of race day, that conversation feels like a lifetime ago. You’ve long since resigned yourself to the fact that you’ll never meet your soulmate. Even if you did, you could never act on it. The risk is too great.

Lost in thought, you don’t notice the figure rounding the corner until it’s too late. You collide with a solid chest, stumbling backward. Strong hands grip your arms, steadying you before you can fall.

You look up, an apology on your lips, and find yourself staring into the most captivating brown eyes you’ve ever seen. Time seems to stand still as you gaze at each other, the world fading away around you.

And then he speaks, his voice low and warm.

“Whoa there, careful Princess. I’ve got you.”

***

Your heart stops as Lewis’ words sink in. They’re an exact match to the tattoo hidden beneath layers of concealer on your wrist. For a moment, you’re frozen, lost in his warm brown eyes, your mind reeling with the implications of what just happened.

Then reality comes crashing down. You can’t do this. You can’t put him in danger. You can’t risk the pain your brother went through.

“I ... I have to go,” you stammer, pulling away from his gentle grip.

Lewis’ brow furrows in confusion. “Wait, what’s wrong?”

But you’re already backing away, panic rising in your chest. “I’m sorry, I can’t ... this isn’t ... I have to leave.”

You turn and run, pushing past startled onlookers, your heart pounding in your ears. Behind you, you hear Lewis call out.

“Princess, wait! Your words ... they’re on my wrist!”

You falter for a moment, his words piercing through your panic. But no, it doesn’t matter. It can’t matter. You keep running.

“Y/N, please!” Lewis’ voice is closer now. He’s chasing after you. “I know you felt it too. We need to talk about this!”

You duck around a corner, trying to lose him in the maze of the paddock. But Lewis is faster, more familiar with the layout. He catches up to you in a quiet area behind one of the garages.

“Princess,” he says, slightly out of breath. “Please, just hear me out.”

You shake your head, tears threatening to spill. “You don’t understand. We can’t do this. My family ... they’ll never allow it. They’ll hurt you, or worse.”

Lewis takes a cautious step closer. “What do you mean? Why would your family hurt me?”

“Because you’re my soulmate!” The words burst out before you can stop them. “And royals aren’t allowed to be with their soulmates. It’s all about duty and arranged marriages. They ... they burned off my brother’s mark when he found his soulmate.”

Lewis’ eyes widen in horror. “That’s barbaric. They can’t do that to you.”

You laugh bitterly. “They’re the royal family. They can do whatever they want.”

“No,” Lewis says firmly. “They can’t. Because I won’t let them.”

You look at him, confused. “What?”

Lewis takes your hand gently, his touch sending sparks through your body. “Y/N, I’m not just British. I’m also a Brazilian citizen. And in Brazil, there are laws protecting soulmates. If we’re truly matched, which I believe we are, you automatically gain Brazilian citizenship too. Your family can’t touch you there.”

Hope flares in your chest, but you quickly squash it down. “It doesn’t matter. They’ll find a way. They always do.”

“Not this time,” Lewis insists. “Look, I have a race to drive soon, but after that, we can fly to Brazil immediately. I’ll keep you safe until then.”

You shake your head. “It’s too dangerous. If they find out ...”

“They won’t,” Lewis promises. “My driver’s room is private and secure. You can hide there until after the race. No one will think to look for you there.”

You hesitate, torn between hope and fear. “I don’t know ...”

Lewis squeezes your hand gently. “I know we just met, but I’ve been waiting my whole life to find you. Please, give us a chance. Let me protect you.”

You look into his eyes, seeing the sincerity there. Slowly, you nod. “Okay. But we have to be careful.”

Relief washes over Lewis’ face. “We will be. Come on, let’s get you somewhere safe.”

He leads you quickly through the paddock, taking care to avoid busy areas. You keep your head down, heart racing every time you pass someone. Finally, you reach a door marked with Lewis’ name.

“Here we are,” he says, ushering you inside. “Lock the door behind me and don’t open it for anyone but me. I’ll knock three times, pause, then twice more. Okay?”

You nod, taking in the small but comfortable room. “Okay. But Lewis, what about your race? You can’t miss it because of me.”

He smiles reassuringly. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll race, and then we’ll leave right after. It’ll be fine.”

“But what if something goes wrong? What if they find me?” The fear creeps back into your voice.

Lewis takes your hands in his, his touch grounding you. “Hey, look at me. Nothing is going to happen to you. I promise. We’re soulmates, remember? That means we’re in this together now.”

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. “I’m scared.”

“I know,” he says softly. “But you’re also incredibly brave. You’ve lived with this fear your whole life, and you’re still standing. We can do this.”

A small smile tugs at your lips. “We’ve known each other for all of ten minutes and you’re already saying ‘we’?”

Lewis grins. “Well, that’s what happens when you meet your soulmate, I guess. Everything changes in an instant.”

You laugh softly, feeling some of the tension leave your body. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Listen,” Lewis says, his tone turning serious. “I know this is all happening very fast, and I don’t expect you to fall in love with me right away or anything. We’ll take things as slow as you want once we’re safe. But right now, I need you to trust me. Can you do that?”

You look into his eyes, seeing nothing but sincerity and determination. Slowly, you nod. “Yes, I think I can.”

“Good,” Lewis smiles. “Now, I have to go get ready for the race. Remember, three knocks, pause, then two more. Don’t open for anyone else.”

“I won’t,” you promise. “Be careful out there, okay?”

Lewis’ smile widens. “Always am, Princess. I’ll see you soon.”

As he leaves, you lock the door behind him, your heart still racing. You sink onto the small couch, trying to process everything that’s happened in the last hour.

You’ve found your soulmate. After years of hiding your tattoo, of living in fear of it being burned away like your brother’s, you’ve actually met the person whose words are etched on your skin.

And not just any person. Lewis Hamilton. World-famous driver, activist, and fashion icon. You’ve seen him on TV, of course, admired his skill on the track and his passion for social justice. But you never imagined ...

You rub your wrist absently, feeling the slight raised bumps of your mark beneath the concealer. For the first time in years, you allow yourself to hope. Maybe, just maybe, you can have the life you’ve always dreamed of.

But doubt creeps in. What if Lewis is wrong? What if Brazilian citizenship isn’t enough to protect you from your family’s influence? What if they find you before you can leave?

You pace the small room, alternating between hope and fear. The sound of engines revving in the distance tells you the race is about to start. You find yourself holding your breath every time you hear footsteps pass by the door, terrified it might be palace security coming to drag you away.

Time crawls by agonizingly slowly. You try to distract yourself by watching the race on the small TV in the corner, but every time the camera focuses on Lewis’ car, your heart leaps into your throat. You silently urge him to be careful, to finish the race quickly so you can escape.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you hear it. Three knocks, a pause, then two more. You rush to the door, your hand hesitating for just a moment before you unlock it.

Lewis slips inside quickly, closing and locking the door behind him. He’s still in his race suit, his hair damp with sweat.

“Are you okay?” You ask immediately. “How was the race?”

Lewis grins. “I’m fine, and I won. But that’s not important right now. We need to go.”

He grabs a bag from a locker and starts shoving clothes into it. “I’ve arranged for a private jet to take us to São Paulo. We need to leave now, before anyone realizes you’re missing.”

You nod, your heart racing again. “Okay. What do we do?”

“I’ve got some clothing here that might fit you,” Lewis says, pulling out a hoodie and sweatpants. “Put these on over your clothes. We’ll need to be discreet getting to the airport.”

As you change, Lewis continues talking. “Once we’re in Brazil, we’ll be safe. There are strict laws protecting soulmates there. Your family won’t be able to touch you.”

“But what about your career?” You ask, suddenly realizing what he’s giving up. “You can’t just leave everything behind for me.”

Lewis pauses, looking at you intently. “Y/N, you’re my soulmate. That means you’re more important than any career, any amount of fame or money. We’ll figure out the details later, but right now, keeping you safe is all that matters.”

His words make your heart swell. You’ve never had anyone put you first like this before. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Lewis smiles. “Just trust me, okay?”

You nod, feeling a sense of calm settle over you despite the chaotic situation. “I do trust you. Let’s go.”

Lewis takes your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Ready?”

You take a deep breath, thinking of all you’re leaving behind — your family, your duty, the only life you’ve ever known. But as you look at Lewis, you realize you’re also stepping into a new life. One where you’re free to be yourself, to love who you want, to follow your heart.

“Ready,” you say firmly.

And with that, Lewis opens the door, and together, you step out into your new future.

***

The private jet hums softly as it cuts through the night sky, carrying you away from everything you’ve ever known. You’re curled up against Lewis on the plush leather seat, your head resting on his chest. The steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear is oddly comforting, grounding you in this surreal moment.

Lewis’ arm is wrapped around you, his hand gently stroking your back. With your free hand, you trace the lines of his soulmate tattoo — your first words to him, now etched forever on his skin.

“I still can’t believe this is real,” you murmur, your fingers following the curves of each letter.

Lewis chuckles softly, the sound reverberating through his chest. “I know what you mean. I’ve imagined meeting you so many times, but nothing could have prepared me for the reality.”

You look up at him, a mixture of emotions swirling in your chest. “Weren’t you afraid? When you realized who I was?”

“Afraid?” Lewis considers for a moment. “No, not afraid. Excited, nervous, maybe a little overwhelmed. But not afraid.” He pauses, his expression growing serious. “But you were. You’re still afraid now, aren’t you?”

You nod slowly, dropping your gaze back to his wrist. “I’ve been afraid for so long, I’m not sure I know how to stop.”

Lewis’ hand moves to cup your face gently, encouraging you to look at him again. “Will you tell me about it? Help me understand?”

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. “It’s ... it’s not a pleasant story.”

“I’m here,” Lewis says softly. “Whatever it is, we’ll face it together.”

His words, so simple yet so profound, give you the courage to begin. “It started with my brother, Edward. He was always the rebellious one, you know? Always pushing boundaries, questioning traditions. When he found his soulmate, he was over the moon. Her name was Lily, and she was ... she was perfect for him. Kind, funny, passionate about the same causes he was.”

You pause, the memory of your brother’s joy contrasting sharply with what came after. Lewis waits patiently, his presence a comforting anchor.

“For a few months, they managed to keep it a secret. But eventually, someone saw them together. Word got back to our parents and ...” You shudder, remembering that awful day. “They were furious. They gave Edward an ultimatum: give up Lily or give up his place in the line of succession.”

“That’s horrible,” Lewis murmurs, his arm tightening around you.

You nod, continuing, “Edward refused. He said Lily was more important than any throne. So they ... they decided to take matters into their own hands.”

Your voice breaks as you recount what happened next. “They had the royal physician burn off Edward’s soulmate mark. I can still hear his screams echoing through the palace. It was ... it was torture.”

Lewis’ body tenses beneath you, his voice tight with anger when he speaks. “They had no right. How could they do that to their own son?”

“They said it was for the good of the country,” you reply bitterly. “That royals can’t afford the luxury of soulmates. Our marriages are political tools, nothing more.”

“What happened to Edward and Lily?” Lewis asks gently.

You sigh heavily. “Edward was never the same after that. The spark in him just ... died. He does his duty now, makes the appearances he’s supposed to, but it’s like he’s just going through the motions. And Lily ... last I heard, she moved to Australia. I think being anywhere near the UK was too painful for her.”

Lewis is quiet for a moment, processing your words. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that, Y/N. No wonder you were scared when you realized we were soulmates.”

You nod, feeling the weight of years of fear and secrecy lifting as you share your story. “That’s not even the worst of it,” you admit softly.

Lewis looks at you, concern etched on his face. “There’s more?”

You take another deep breath, steeling yourself for the hardest part of the story. “My father ... he had an older sister. Aunt Margaret. I never met her, but I found out about her a few years ago.”

Lewis listens intently as you continue, “She found her soulmate when she was young, maybe 20 or so. And she refused to give him up, no matter what my grandparents said. They tried everything — threats, bribes, even attempting to arrange another match for her. But Margaret stood firm.”

“She sounds brave,” Lewis comments.

You nod, a sad smile touching your lips. “She was. But bravery wasn’t enough. One night, both Margaret and her soulmate disappeared. The official story was that they’d eloped, run off to start a new life together. But that wasn’t the truth.”

Lewis’ body tenses again, as if bracing for what’s coming. You press on, the words tumbling out now that you’ve started.

“Margaret’s soulmate was ... dealt with. Permanently. And Margaret herself was institutionalized. Locked away in a private facility, hidden from the world.”

“That’s ... that’s monstrous,” Lewis breathes, horror evident in his voice.

You nod, feeling tears prick at your eyes. “When I found out, I couldn’t believe it. I managed to find out where she was being held and I ... I visited her.”

Lewis’ hand resumes its gentle stroking of your back, encouraging you to continue.

“She was ... god, Lewis, she was just a shell. Decades of being locked away, of being separated from her soulmate ... it had broken her. She didn’t even seem to realize I was there.”

A tear escapes, rolling down your cheek. Lewis gently wipes it away with his thumb.

“That’s why I was so scared,” you whisper. “I’ve seen what my family is capable of. What lengths they’ll go to in order to keep up appearances, to maintain their idea of duty.”

Lewis is quiet for a long moment, his arms tightening around you protectively. When he finally speaks, his voice is filled with a mix of anger and determination.

“Listen to me, Y/N,” he says firmly. “What happened to your brother, to your aunt ... it was wrong. Cruel and wrong. But I promise you, I will not let that happen to us.”

You look up at him, seeing the fierce protectiveness in his eyes. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because we’re not alone in this,” Lewis explains. “We have resources they don’t. My citizenship, for one. The laws protecting soulmates in Brazil. And beyond that, we have the power of public opinion.”

You frown, not quite understanding. “What do you mean?”

Lewis shifts slightly, his expression thoughtful. “Think about it. Your family’s power comes from public support, right? What do you think would happen if the world found out they were separating soulmates, institutionalizing people?”

“It would be a scandal,” you realize, your eyes widening.

“Exactly,” Lewis nods. “We’re not helpless. If they try anything, we can fight back. We can tell our story, rally support. The world has changed a lot. People believe in the sanctity of soulmates now more than ever.”

His words spark a tiny flame of hope in your chest. “You really think we could do that?”

“I know we could,” Lewis says confidently. “But more than that, I don’t think we’ll have to. Your family isn’t stupid. They’ll realize the risk isn’t worth it. Especially not with someone as high-profile as me.”

You can’t help but chuckle at that. “Modest, aren’t you?”

Lewis grins, the tension of the moment breaking. “Hey, I’m just stating facts. Seven-time world champion, remember?”

You roll your eyes playfully, but then grow serious again. “Lewis ... thank you. For listening, for understanding. For not running away when you realized how complicated this all is.”

“Hey,” Lewis says softly, tilting your chin up so you’re looking directly into his eyes. “You’re my soulmate. That means we’re in this together, complications and all. I’m not going anywhere.”

His words wash over you, soothing fears you’ve carried for so long. For the first time, you allow yourself to truly believe that maybe, just maybe, you can have this. You can have him.

“So,” you say, a small smile playing on your lips. “What happens now?”

Lewis grins, his eyes twinkling with excitement and possibility. “Now? Now we start our adventure. We land in São Paulo, get your citizenship sorted out, and then ... well, then the world’s our oyster. We can go anywhere, do anything.”

“Anything?” You ask, the concept of such freedom almost dizzying.

“Anything,” Lewis confirms. “We could travel the world. Or we could find a quiet place to settle down if that’s what you prefer. We could work on charitable causes together, or you could pursue whatever dreams you’ve had to put aside because of your royal duties.”

The possibilities swirl in your mind, each one more exciting than the last. “I ... I don’t even know where to start,” you admit.

Lewis chuckles, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “We don’t have to decide everything right now. We’ve got time. For now, let’s just focus on getting to Brazil safely. We can figure out the rest as we go.”

You nod, settling back against his chest. The steady beat of his heart syncs with the hum of the jet engines, lulling you into a sense of peace you haven’t felt in years.

As you drift off to sleep, wrapped in the safety of your soulmate’s arms, you realize something. For the first time in your life, you’re not afraid of the future. Instead, you’re excited to see what it holds.

Whatever comes next, you’ll face it together. You and Lewis, two halves of a whole, finally united. The journey ahead may be uncertain, but with him by your side, you’re ready for anything.

***

As the private jet touches down on Brazilian soil, a mixture of excitement and nervousness flutters in your stomach. Lewis gives your hand a reassuring squeeze as the plane rolls to a stop.

“Ready?” He asks, his warm brown eyes meeting yours.

You take a deep breath and nod. “As I’ll ever be.”

The cabin door opens, and the humid Brazilian air rushes in. Lewis leads you down the steps, his hand never leaving yours. At the bottom, a tall woman in a crisp suit waits, her dark hair pulled back in a neat bun.

“Mr. Hamilton,” she greets with a warm smile, extending her hand. “And Your Royal Highness. Welcome to Brazil. I’m Dr. Raquel Santos from the Department of Soulmate Affairs.”

Lewis shakes her hand. “Dr. Santos, thank you for meeting us on such short notice.”

“Of course,” she replies, turning to you. “Your Highness, it’s an honor.”

You shake her hand, feeling slightly overwhelmed. “Please, just call me Y/N. I ... I’m not sure how much of a royal I am anymore.”

Dr. Santos’ smile softens. “Of course, Y/N. Why don’t we move this conversation somewhere more private? I have a car waiting to take us to a secure location where we can discuss everything in detail.”

You and Lewis follow her to a sleek black car. Once inside, Dr. Santos turns to face you both.

“First and foremost,” she begins, “I want to assure you that you are under the full protection of Brazilian law. As soon as you stepped off that plane, Y/N, you became entitled to all the rights and protections we offer to soulmates.”

“Just like that?” You ask, hardly daring to believe it could be so simple.

Dr. Santos nods. “Just like that. Brazil takes soulmate rights very seriously. We believe that the bond between soulmates is sacred and should be protected at all costs.”

Lewis leans forward, his expression serious. “What exactly does that protection entail? Y/N’s situation is ... complicated.”

“I understand,” Dr. Santos says. “Your assistant filled me in on some of the details during our phone call. Let me break down the key points for you.”

As the car glides through the streets of São Paulo, Dr. Santos begins her explanation.

“First, as the soulmate of a Brazilian citizen, Y/N is immediately eligible for Brazilian citizenship. We can begin the paperwork right away. This will provide an added layer of protection against any attempts at extradition.”

You feel a weight lift off your shoulders at her words. “So my family can’t force me to return to the UK?”

“Correct,” Dr. Santos confirms. “Brazil does not recognize any authority over soulmate bonds, not even royal decrees. Your status as a princess is irrelevant in the eyes of our law when it comes to your rights as a soulmate.”

Lewis squeezes your hand, a smile playing on his lips. “See? I told you we’d figure it out.”

Dr. Santos continues, “Furthermore, we have specific laws protecting soulmates from forced separation. Any attempt to interfere with your bond — be it physical separation, coercion, or even attempts to remove or alter your soulmate marks — is considered a serious crime in Brazil.”

You unconsciously rub your wrist where your tattoo is hidden. “What about ... what if they try to claim I’m mentally unfit or something? To try and invalidate my choices?”

Dr. Santos’ expression turns serious. “We’ve seen such tactics used before, unfortunately. That’s why we have safeguards in place. Any claims of mental unfitness would require extensive evaluation by multiple independent Brazilian psychiatrists.”

“And if they try to use their diplomatic influence?” Lewis asks.

“Brazil’s stance on soulmate rights is non-negotiable,” Dr. Santos states firmly. “We’ve stood up to pressure from other nations before, and we won’t hesitate to do so again. Your bond is protected here, regardless of external political pressures.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “This all sounds almost too good to be true.”

Dr. Santos smiles warmly. “I understand your caution, Y/N. But I assure you, these protections are very real and very enforceable. Now, let me explain some of the practical aspects of your situation.”

As the car turns onto a quieter street, Dr. Santos pulls out a tablet. “We’ll need to register your bond officially. This involves a simple verification process — usually just a visual confirmation of a matching font on your soulmate marks. Once registered, you’ll be issued official documentation of your bond status.”

“What does that documentation do?” You ask, leaning forward with interest.

“It serves several purposes,” Dr. Santos explains. “Firstly, it’s legal proof of your bond, which can be used to claim various rights and protections under Brazilian law. It also serves as a form of identification and can be used to expedite your citizenship application.”

Lewis nods thoughtfully. “And what about privacy? Given our high profiles, we’re concerned about information leaks.”

“An excellent question,” Dr. Santos says. “We take privacy very seriously, especially in high-profile cases like yours. All information related to your bond and Y/N’s presence in Brazil will be classified at the highest level. Only a select few government officials will have access to this information.”

You feel a surge of gratitude towards this woman and the country she represents. “Dr. Santos, I can’t thank you enough for all of this.”

She smiles warmly. “It’s my pleasure. Protecting soulmates is not just my job, it’s my passion. Now, let’s discuss some of the support services available to you.”

As the car pulls up to a nondescript building, Dr. Santos continues her explanation. “We offer counseling services specifically tailored for soulmates who have faced separation or threats to their bond. These services are completely confidential and can be invaluable in helping you process your experiences and adjust to your new life.”

You nod, feeling a lump form in your throat. “I think ... I think that might be really helpful.”

Lewis wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “We’ll get through this together, love. Whatever you need.”

Dr. Santos leads you into the building and up to a comfortably furnished office. As you all take seats, she pulls out some forms.

“Now, I know this is a lot to take in,” she says gently. “But I’d like to start the official registration process, if you’re ready. The sooner we get this done, the sooner you’ll have legal protection.”

You look at Lewis, who gives you an encouraging nod. “Okay,” you say, taking a deep breath. “Let’s do it.”

As Dr. Santos begins to explain the forms, a thought occurs to you. “Dr. Santos, what about Lewis? How will all of this affect his career?”

Dr. Santos smiles. “I’m glad you asked. Mr. Hamilton, as a Brazilian citizen, you have the right to have your soulmate with you wherever your career takes you. We can provide diplomatic assistance to ensure Y/N can travel with you freely, without risk of detention or forced return to the UK.”

Lewis grins, looking relieved. “That’s fantastic news. I was worried I might have to give up racing.”

“Not at all,” Dr. Santos assures him. “We believe that soulmates should support each other’s dreams and ambitions. Our laws are designed to facilitate that.”

As you begin filling out the forms, a sense of surreal calm washes over you. For the first time in your life, you feel truly protected, truly free to be with the person you’re meant to be with.

“There’s one more thing,” Dr. Santos says as you finish the paperwork. “As part of our soulmate protection program, we offer a safe house service. It’s a secure location where you can stay while you adjust to your new situation and decide on your next steps. Would you be interested in that?”

You and Lewis exchange a look. “I think that might be a good idea,” Lewis says. “At least for a little while, until we figure things out. My home here isn’t exactly inconspicuous.”

You nod in agreement. “Yes, please. That sounds perfect.”

Dr. Santos smiles, clearly pleased. “Excellent. I’ll make the arrangements right away. The location is completely confidential and guarded 24/7. You’ll be safe there.”

As she stands to make some calls, you turn to Lewis, feeling overwhelmed by everything that’s happened.

“Lewis,” you say softly, “I can’t believe you’ve done all this for me. You’ve turned your whole life upside down.”

He takes your hands in his, his eyes shining with emotion. “You’re my soulmate. My whole life was leading up to finding you. Everything else? It’s just details we’ll figure out together.”

You lean in, resting your forehead against his. For the first time since you can remember, you feel truly, completely safe. Protected not just by laws and governments, but by the love of the person you were always meant to find.

As Dr. Santos returns to finalize the arrangements, you realize that this isn’t just the end of your old life. It’s the beginning of something new, something wonderful. A life where you’re free to love, free to be yourself, free to explore the bond that fate has given you.

Whatever challenges lie ahead, you know now that you won’t face them alone. You have Lewis, you have the protection of Brazilian law, and most importantly, you have hope. The future, once so terrifying, now shines with possibility.

And as you leave the office hand in hand with Lewis, ready to start your new life together, you can’t help but smile. Because for the first time, you’re not running away from something.

You’re running towards it.

***

The roar of engines and the buzz of excitement fill the air as you stand at the entrance to the Autódromo José Carlos Pace. Your heart pounds in your chest, a mix of nerves and exhilaration coursing through your veins. Lewis’ hand is warm and steady in yours, a constant reminder that you’re not alone.

“Are you ready for this?” Lewis asks, his brown eyes searching yours with concern.

You take a deep breath, squeezing his hand. “As ready as I’ll ever be. It’s time to stop hiding.”

Lewis nods, a proud smile lighting up his face. “That’s my girl. Remember, whatever happens, we’re in this together.”

With one last reassuring squeeze, Lewis leads you into the paddock. The moment you step into view, a hush falls over the nearby crowd. Then, like a wave, whispers and exclamations ripple outward.

“Is that ...”

“It can’t be ...”

“The princess!”

“With Lewis Hamilton?”

Cameras flash in a frenzy, and reporters surge forward, held back only by the security team flanking you and Lewis. You keep your head high, your hand firmly in Lewis’ as you make your way through the paddock.

A brave reporter manages to shout a question over the commotion. “Your Highness! Is it true you’ve been in hiding in Brazil?”

You pause, looking to Lewis. He gives you an encouraging nod. Taking a deep breath, you turn to face the press.

“Yes, it’s true,” you say, your voice steady despite your nerves. “I’ve been in Brazil for the past few months, under the protection of the Brazilian government.”

The questions come rapid-fire after that.

“Why did you leave the UK?”

“Are you and Lewis Hamilton really soulmates?”

“What does the royal family have to say about this?”

Lewis steps forward, his arm protectively around your waist. “We’ll be holding a press conference later to address all your questions. For now, we ask for your patience and understanding as we prepare for the race.”

As you continue through the paddock, you can’t help but think back on the tumultuous months that led to this moment ...

The first few weeks in Brazil had been a whirlwind of paperwork, security briefings, and adjusting to your new reality. You and Lewis had stayed in the safe house provided by the Brazilian government, venturing out only when necessary and always under heavy guard.

One morning, about a month into your stay, Dr. Santos had arrived with a grim expression.

“We’ve intercepted some concerning communications,” she had said, her usual calm demeanor tinged with worry. “It seems the British royal family has intensified their search for you, Y/N. They’re making threats.”

You had felt your heart drop. “What kind of threats?”

Dr. Santos had hesitated before answering. “They’re threatening to use their diplomatic influence to pressure Brazil into returning you. They’re also ... they’re suggesting that you might be mentally unfit, that you’ve been coerced or manipulated.”

Lewis had immediately pulled you close, his jaw clenched in anger. “They can’t do that. We won’t let them.”

“And we won’t,” Dr. Santos had assured you both. “Our stance on soulmate rights is non-negotiable. But I want you to be prepared. This might get ugly.”

And it had. Over the next few months, your family had tried everything. Diplomatic pressure, media manipulation, even attempts to infiltrate Brazilian government systems to locate you. But Brazil had stood firm, and you had remained safe.

A commotion near the Mercedes garage snaps you back to the present. You see a group of men in dark suits pushing their way through the crowd, their expressions grim and determined. Your blood runs cold as you recognize one of them — your father’s head of security.

“Lewis,” you whisper urgently, “they’re here.”

Lewis’ arm tightens around you as he quickly assesses the situation. “Stay calm. Remember the plan.”

As the men approach, the lead one steps forward, his voice loud and authoritative. “Your Royal Highness, by order of His Majesty the King, you are to return to the United Kingdom immediately.”

You feel all eyes on you, the paddock having gone deathly quiet. Taking a deep breath, you step forward, your voice clear and steady. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible. I am here of my own free will, protected by Brazilian law as the soulmate of a Brazilian citizen.”

The man’s expression hardens. “Your Highness, please don’t make this difficult. Your family is concerned for your well-being. They believe you may have been coerced or manipulated-”

“The only manipulation here,” Lewis interrupts, his voice sharp, “is coming from those who would separate soulmates for political gain.”

Just then, Dr. Santos appears, flanked by Brazilian officials. “Gentlemen,” she says coolly to the British security team, “I’m afraid you’re overstepping. Y/N is under the protection of the Brazilian government. Any attempt to remove her against her will would be considered means for an international incident.”

The head of security sputters, clearly not having expected this level of resistance. “This is a family matter-”

“No,” you interject, your voice stronger now. “This is a matter of human rights. The right to be with one’s soulmate. A right that Brazil recognizes and protects.”

Dr. Santos nods approvingly. “Furthermore, any claims of mental unfitness have been thoroughly disproven by independent psychiatric evaluation. Y/N is here of her own free will, in full possession of her faculties.”

The security team looks at each other uncertainly, clearly realizing they’re outmatched. The lead man makes one last attempt. “Your Highness, please. Your family misses you. They want you to come home.”

For a moment, you feel a pang of sadness for the life you left behind. But then you feel Lewis’ steady presence beside you, and you know you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

“I am home,” you say softly but firmly. “My home is with my soulmate, wherever that may be.”

The man opens his mouth to argue further, but Dr. Santos cuts him off. “Gentlemen, I believe it’s time for you to leave. Unless you’d like us to involve the authorities?”

Realizing they’re defeated, the security team begins to retreat. As they leave, you hear murmurs of admiration and support from the crowd that has gathered to watch the confrontation.

Lewis pulls you into a tight embrace. “You were amazing,” he whispers in your ear. “I’m so proud of you.”

As you pull back, you see reporters clamoring for comments, their cameras flashing incessantly. Dr. Santos steps forward to address them.

“A full press conference will be held later today,” she announces. “For now, I can confirm that Y/N, formally known as Her Royal Highness, is here legally and of her own free will as the soulmate of Lewis Hamilton. She is under the full protection of Brazilian law, and any attempts to interfere with their bond will be met with the full force of our legal system.”

As Dr. Santos continues to field questions, Lewis turns to you. “Are you okay?” He asks softly, his eyes searching yours.

You nod, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. “I’m more than okay. For the first time, I feel ... free.”

Lewis grins, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Good. Because we’ve got a race to win.”

As you make your way to the Mercedes garage, you’re overwhelmed by the support you receive. Team members, other drivers, and even fans call out words of encouragement.

“We’ve got your back, Y/N!”

“Love wins!”

“You show ‘em, Lewis!”

Inside the garage, the team greets you warmly. Toto approaches with a smile.

“Y/N, Lewis,” he says, shaking both your hands. “That was quite an entrance. Are you sure you’re up for all this today?”

You nod firmly. “Absolutely. It’s time to show the world that love doesn’t make you weak. It makes you stronger.”

Lewis beams at your words. “Couldn’t have said it better myself. Now, let’s go win this race, yeah?”

As Lewis begins his pre-race preparations, you find a quiet corner to collect your thoughts. The events of the past few months flash through your mind — the fear, the uncertainty, but also the overwhelming love and support you’ve received.

You think about your family, about the life you left behind. There’s sadness there, but no regret. You’ve found something more precious than any crown — the freedom to love, to be yourself, to follow your heart.

A gentle hand on your shoulder pulls you from your thoughts. You look up to see Lewis, now in his race suit, his helmet tucked under his arm.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He asks softly.

You smile, reaching up to cup his cheek. “Just thinking about how lucky I am. How grateful I am for you, for Brazil, for everyone who’s supported us.”

Lewis leans into your touch, his eyes shining with emotion. “We’re the lucky ones, Y/N. To have found each other, to have this chance at happiness. And I promise you, I’ll spend every day making sure you never regret your choice.”

You stand, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I could never regret choosing you. You’re my soulmate, my home, my everything.”

As you lean in for a kiss, the garage erupts in cheers and whistles. You break apart, laughing, to see the entire team watching with grins on their faces.

“Alright, lovebirds,” Toto calls out good-naturedly. “Save it for after the race. Lewis, you’ve got a championship to chase.”

Lewis gives you one last quick kiss before pulling on his helmet. “Watch me fly, Princess,” he says with a wink.

As he heads out to the track, you take your place in the garage, surrounded by your new family — the team that has embraced you without question. You feel a sense of belonging, of purpose, that you’ve never experienced before.

The roar of engines fills the air as the race begins. You watch Lewis navigate the track with precision and skill, your heart swelling with pride and love. This is your life now — the excitement of race day, the thrill of competition, but most importantly, the joy of being with your soulmate.

As Lewis crosses the finish line in first place, the garage erupts in celebration. You rush out to meet him in parc fermé, not caring about protocol or propriety. Lewis sweeps you up in his arms, spinning you around as the crowd cheers.

In that moment, with the sun shining down and the sound of celebration all around, you know that you’ve made the right choice. This is where you belong — by Lewis’ side, free to love and be loved, ready to face whatever challenges come your way.

Together.

***

The familiar scent of motor oil and rubber fills the air as you step onto British soil for the first time in over a year. Silverstone buzzes with excitement, but you can’t shake the nervous energy coursing through your veins. Lewis’ hand finds yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“You okay?” He asks softly, his eyes searching yours with concern.

You take a deep breath, nodding. “I think so. It’s just ... strange being back.”

Lewis pulls you close, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Remember, you’re not alone. We’ve got security everywhere, and I’m right here with you.”

As if on cue, the head of your security team, a tall, no-nonsense woman named Maria, approaches. “Everything’s clear, Ms. Y/N. We’ve swept the entire area and have eyes on all entry points.”

You smile gratefully at her. “Thank you, Maria. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

Maria’s stern expression softens slightly. “Just doing our job, ma’am. Your safety is our top priority.”

As you make your way through the paddock, you can’t help but notice the stares and whispers that follow you. Some are curious, others admiring, and a few ... less than friendly. But your security team forms a protective barrier around you and Lewis, keeping any potential trouble at bay.

“Y/N! Lewis!” A familiar voice calls out. You turn to see Fred Vasseur approaching, a warm smile on his face. “Welcome back to Silverstone. How are you holding up?”

“It’s ... intense,” you admit. “But I’m glad to be here, supporting Lewis.”

Fred nods understandingly. “Well, you’ve got the whole team behind you. Anyone gives you trouble, they’ll have to answer to all of Ferrari.”

As you continue through the paddock, greeting team members and other drivers, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re being watched. Not just by the curious onlookers, but by someone ... familiar.

That’s when you see him. Standing near the VIP area, looking as regal and composed as ever, is your brother.

Your heart skips a beat. You haven’t seen Edward since that fateful day you ran away. Lewis, sensing your tension, follows your gaze.

“Is that ...” he asks quietly.

You nod, unable to find words. Lewis turns to Maria. “Can you make sure we have a private moment?”

Maria nods, already signaling to her team. Within moments, they’ve created a small bubble of privacy around you and Edward.

Edward approaches slowly, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you both just stand there, years of unspoken words hanging between you.

Then, to your surprise, Edward’s composure cracks. His eyes fill with tears as he pulls you into a tight embrace.

“Y/N,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve missed you so much.”

You cling to him, your own tears falling freely. “Eddie ... I’m so sorry I left without saying goodbye. I just ... I couldn’t ...”

Edward pulls back, holding you at arm’s length. His eyes roam your face, as if memorizing every detail. “Don’t apologize. Not ever. What you did ... Y/N, I am so incredibly proud of you.”

His words catch you off guard. “Proud? But I abandoned the family, my duties ...”

Edward shakes his head firmly. “You chose love. You chose happiness. You did what I was too weak to do.”

You glance at Lewis, who’s standing a respectful distance away, giving you this moment with your brother. “Edward, this is Lewis. My soulmate.”

Edward extends his hand to Lewis. “It’s an honor to meet you, Lewis. Thank you for protecting my sister and giving her the happiness she deserves.”

Lewis shakes his hand, his expression sincere. “The honor is mine, Your Highness. Y/N is the bravest, most amazing person I know. I’m just lucky to be part of her life.”

Edward’s smile is tinged with sadness. “Please, call me Edward. And you’re right, she is amazing. Always has been.”

You look at your brother closely, noticing the lines of stress around his eyes, the slight slump in his shoulders. “Eddie ... how are you? Really?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It’s ... not easy. The family is in turmoil after your departure. Father is furious, Mother is heartbroken, and I’m ... well, I’m trying to hold it all together.”

“And Lily?” You ask softly, referring to Edward’s soulmate. “Have you heard from her?”

Edward’s expression clouds over. “No. Not since ... not since that day.”

You take your brother’s hand, squeezing it gently. “It’s not too late, you know. You could still reach out to her.”

Edward laughs bitterly. “And say what? ‘Sorry I let them burn off my soulmate mark and married someone else. Want to grab coffee?’”

Lewis steps forward, his voice gentle but firm. “With all due respect, Your High- Edward, it’s never too late. The bond between soulmates ... it’s not something that can be erased, no matter what’s done to the physical mark.”

Edward looks at Lewis, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “You really believe that?”

Lewis nods. “I do. Y/N and I found each other against all odds. Who’s to say you and Lily can’t do the same?”

You squeeze Edward’s hand again. “Eddie, you deserve to be happy. You deserve love. It’s not too late to choose yourself, to choose love.”

Edward looks torn, glancing around at the crowds, the cameras, the weight of expectation that’s always surrounded you both. “But the family ...”

“Will still be there,” you say softly. “But you’ll be facing them as your true self, with your soulmate by your side. It makes all the difference, trust me.”

Your brother is quiet for a long moment, clearly wrestling with years of ingrained duty and expectation. Finally, he looks up, a new determination in his eyes.

“You’re right,” he says, his voice growing stronger. “You’re absolutely right. I’ve spent too long living for everyone else. It’s time I lived for myself.”

You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. “Does this mean ...”

Edward nods, a mix of fear and excitement in his eyes. “I’m going to do it. I’m going to find Lily. I’m going to make things right.”

You throw your arms around your brother, hugging him tightly. “I’m so proud of you, Eddie. And I’ll be here for you, every step of the way.”

As you pull back, you see tears in Edward’s eyes, but also a lightness that you haven’t seen in years. “Thank you. For showing me that it’s possible to choose love. For being brave enough to pave the way.”

Lewis steps forward, placing a hand on Edward’s shoulder. “If you need any help — legal advice, security, anything — just say the word. You’re family now.”

Edward looks at Lewis gratefully. “Thank you. I might just take you up on that.”

Just then, Maria approaches discreetly. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but we need to move. The press is getting restless.”

You nod, turning back to Edward. “Will you be okay?”

He takes a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. “I will be. For the first time in a long time, I think I really will be.”

As you prepare to part ways, Edward pulls you in for one last hug. “I love you, little sister. Thank you for reminding me what’s truly important.”

“I love you too, Eddie,” you whisper back. “Go find your happiness. You deserve it.”

With one last squeeze, Edward steps back. As he walks away, you see him pull out his phone, a look of determination on his face. You have a feeling you know exactly who he’s about to call.

Lewis wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close. “You okay, love?”

You nod, wiping away a stray tear. “More than okay. I feel ... hopeful. For Eddie, for us, for everything.”

As you make your way back through the paddock, you’re struck by how different everything feels. The stares don’t bother you as much, the whispers fade into background noise. You’re exactly where you’re meant to be, with the person you’re meant to be with.

“You know,” Lewis says as you reach the Ferrari garage, “I think I’m going to win this race.”

You raise an eyebrow, a smile playing on your lips. “Oh? And what makes you so sure?”

Lewis grins, pulling you close. “Because I’ve got my lucky charm by my side. How can I lose?”

You laugh, the sound light and free. “Well, in that case, you’d better not disappoint. I expect nothing less than a victory, Sir Hamilton.”

As Lewis leans in for a kiss, you’re vaguely aware of cameras flashing and people cheering. But none of that matters. What matters is this moment, this love, this life you’ve chosen.

You think back to a year ago, when you were terrified of finding your soulmate, of the consequences it would bring. Now, standing here at Silverstone, with Lewis by your side and the hope of your brother finding his own happiness, you realize that choosing love wasn’t just the brave choice.

It was the only choice.

As Lewis heads off to prepare for the race, you take your place in the garage. The roar of engines fills the air, and you feel a surge of excitement.

This is your life now. Supporting Lewis, championing love, and showing the world that sometimes, the greatest act of duty is being true to yourself.

As the race begins, you watch Lewis tear around the track, your heart swelling with pride and love. You may not wear a tiara anymore, but you’ve gained something far more precious — the freedom to love, to choose, to be yourself.

And as the chequered flag waves and Lewis crosses the finish line in first place, you know that this victory isn’t just his.

It’s yours. It’s Edward’s. It’s everyone who’s ever had the courage to choose love over duty, happiness over expectation.

As you rush to congratulate Lewis, wrapped in his arms as the crowd cheers, you know that this is just the beginning. There will be challenges ahead, obstacles to overcome. But with love by your side and the strength to be true to yourself, you’re ready to face whatever comes.

Because in the end, love always wins. And you? You’re living proof of that.

***

The warm Brazilian sun streams through the windows of the spacious beachfront home, filling the living room with a golden glow. The sound of children’s laughter mingles with the distant crash of waves, creating a symphony of domestic bliss.

You’re seated on the plush carpet, surrounded by an array of colorful toys. Your three-year-old daughter, Emilia, is busily stacking blocks, her little face scrunched in concentration. Across from you, Edward is attempting to wrangle his own two-year-old son, James, who seems more interested in knocking down Emilia’s creations than building his own.

“James, darling, let’s build our own tower, shall we?” Edward coaxes gently, redirecting his son’s attention.

You can’t help but smile at the scene. Five years ago, you never could have imagined this — you and Edward, raising your children together, free from the constraints of royal duty.

The sound of a door opening draws your attention. Lewis walks in, his arms full of grocery bags, closely followed by Lily.

“We come bearing snacks!” Lewis announces with a grin.

Emilia’s head snaps up at the sight of her favorite person. “Daddy!” She squeals, abandoning her blocks and running to Lewis.

Lewis sets down the bags just in time to scoop up his daughter, peppering her face with kisses. “Hello, my little racer. Have you been good for Mummy?”

Emilia nods enthusiastically. “I builded a big tower!”

“Built, sweetheart,” you correct gently, getting to your feet. “And it was a very impressive tower indeed.”

Lewis sets Emilia down and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you in for a quick kiss. “And how’s my other favorite girl doing?”

You smile, leaning into his embrace. “Better now that you’re home. How was the market?”

“Busy,” Lily chimes in, setting down her own bags. “But we managed to get everything on the list, plus a few extras.”

Edward stands, hoisting James onto his hip. “Extras, you say? Let me guess — more of those brigadeiros that you’re definitely not addicted to, right, love?”

Lily’s cheeks flush slightly as she laughs. “I plead the fifth. This baby wants what it wants.”

Your eyes light up at the reminder. Lily is five months pregnant with their second child, and you’re all buzzing with excitement.

“Speaking of the baby,” you say, moving to help unpack the groceries, “have you two decided if you’re going to find out the gender?”

Edward and Lily exchange a look. “We’re still debating,” Edward admits. “Part of me wants to know, but there’s also something nice about the surprise.”

Lewis chuckles, joining you in the kitchen. “I remember that debate. Though if I recall correctly, someone couldn’t handle the suspense and made me call the doctor at two in the morning to find out.”

You playfully swat his arm. “Hey, you were just as curious as I was!”

As you all work together to put away the groceries and prepare snacks for the kids, you’re struck by how natural this all feels. The easy banter, the shared responsibilities, the love that permeates every interaction. It’s a far cry from the rigid formality of your royal upbringing.

“You know,” Edward says, as if reading your thoughts, “sometimes I still can’t believe this is our life now.”

You nod, understanding completely. “I know what you mean. It’s so different from what we always thought our futures would be.”

Lily comes up behind Edward, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Different, but better, right?”

Edward turns, pulling her close. “Infinitely better. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

As you watch your brother with his soulmate, you feel a wave of happiness and gratitude wash over you. It hadn’t been easy for Edward to follow in your footsteps, to give up his place in the line of succession and choose love over duty. But seeing him now, so relaxed and genuinely happy, you know it was worth every struggle.

“Earth to Y/N,” Lewis’ voice breaks through your reverie. “Where’d you go just now?”

You smile, shaking your head. “Just thinking about how far we’ve all come. How different things could have been.”

Lewis nods, understanding in his eyes. “Do you ever regret it? Giving up your title, your life in England?”

You don’t hesitate for a second. “Never. This life, with you, with our family — it’s more than I ever dreamed possible.”

A sudden crash from the living room interrupts the moment. You all rush in to find James standing triumphantly atop a mountain of scattered blocks, while Emilia looks on in horror.

“James Edward Henry Albert Windsor!” Lily exclaims, trying to sound stern but failing to hide her amusement. “What have we said about destroying other people’s creations?”

James, looking not at all repentant, grins widely. “I king of the castle!”

Edward struggles to keep a straight face as he lifts his son off the block mountain. “Yes, well, kings should be builders, not destroyers. Let’s clean this up and then we can all build a castle together, okay?”

As you all pitch in to help clean up the blocks, Emilia tugs on your sleeve. “Mummy, will James be a real king someday?”

The question catches you off guard. You exchange a look with Edward, unsure how to explain the complicated reality of your family’s situation.

Lewis kneels down next to Emilia, his voice gentle. “No, sweetheart. James won’t be a king and you won’t be a princess. But that’s okay, because you get to be something even better.”

Emilia’s eyes widen with curiosity. “What’s that, Daddy?”

Lewis smiles, pulling her into a hug. “You get to be yourself. You get to choose who you want to be and what you want to do with your life. And that’s much more special.”

You feel tears prick at your eyes, overwhelmed by the simple beauty of Lewis’ words. This is why you left, why you chose this life. So that your children could have the freedom you and Edward never had growing up.

As the afternoon wears on, you all migrate to the back patio. The kids play in the sand under the watchful eyes of their parents, while you, Lewis, Edward, and Lily relax on the comfortable outdoor furniture.

“So,” Lily says, her hand resting on her growing belly, “have you two given any thought to expanding your own family?”

You and Lewis share a knowing look. “Actually,” you say, unable to keep the excitement from your voice, “we’ve been thinking about it a lot lately.”

Edward raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Do tell, little sister.”

Lewis takes your hand, giving it a squeeze. “We’re thinking of adopting. There are so many children out there who need loving homes, and we have more than enough love to give.”

“That’s wonderful!” Lily exclaims, her eyes shining. “Oh, Emilia would love a little brother or sister.”

You nod, watching your daughter play. “We think so too. We’re just starting the process, but it feels right.”

Edward leans forward, his expression serious. “Have you thought about how this might affect things back in England? The press ...”

You sigh, having expected this question. “We have. And honestly, we’ve decided that it doesn’t matter what they think. This is our life, our family. We’re not going to let fear of judgment or outdated institutions dictate our choices anymore.”

Lewis nods in agreement. “We’ve already faced the worst they could throw at us. We came out stronger. Whatever comes next, we can handle it together.”

Edward’s serious expression melts into a proud smile. “You’re right, of course. I’m sorry, old habits die hard I suppose. I’m thrilled for you both, truly.”

As the conversation flows, touching on everything from potential names for Lily and Edward’s baby to Lewis’ upcoming ambassador campaign, you’re struck by how perfectly imperfect this life is. It’s messy and chaotic at times, full of unexpected challenges and joy in equal measure. But it’s real, and it’s yours.

The sun begins to set, painting the sky in brilliant shades of orange and pink. James and Emilia, tired from their day of play, curl up in their fathers’ laps. As you watch your brother gently stroke his son’s hair, you remember a conversation from years ago.

“Eddie,” you say softly, “do you remember what you told me the day they ... the day they burned off your soulmate mark?”

Edward looks up, his eyes clouding with the memory. “I told you that if you ever found your soulmate, you should run. Run far away and don’t look back.”

You nod, feeling Lewis’ arm tighten around you. “I’m so glad I took your advice. And I’m even more glad that you eventually followed it too.”

Edward smiles, looking down at James and then over at Lily. “So am I, Y/N. So am I.”

As the evening draws in, you all move inside. The kids are put to bed, their excited chatter about building sandcastles and racing cars fading into peaceful sleep. You, Lewis, Edward, and Lily settle in the living room, glasses of wine in hand (sparkling juice for Lily).

“A toast,” Lewis proposes, raising his glass. “To family, to love, and to the courage to choose our own path.”

“To freedom,” Edward adds, his eyes shining with emotion.

“To second chances,” Lily chimes in, her hand resting on her belly.

You raise your own glass, feeling a swell of emotion. “To us. All of us. And to the beautiful, chaotic, perfectly imperfect life we’ve built together.”

As you clink glasses, you catch Lewis’ eye. In that moment, you’re transported back to that day at Silverstone, when you first ran into each other. The fear, the excitement, the life-changing decision you made in an instant.

You wouldn’t change a thing.

As the night wears on and conversation flows freely, you realize that this — this warmth, this love, this freedom — this is what happily ever after really looks like. It’s not a fairy tale ending, but a beginning. A beginning of a life filled with love, choice, and the joy of being truly yourself.

And as you curl up in bed that night, Lewis’ arms around you and the sound of the ocean in the distance, you know that you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

Your family’s story is still being written. And you can’t wait to see what the next chapter brings.

1K notes · View notes

winterarmyy · 1 year

Text

Welcome home... Soldat? | Part I

That time when Bucky accidentally relapsed into the Winter Soldier.

Summary: Y/N had make a habit of greeting Bucky a warm 'welcome home' everytime he came back from his missions, but there was one particular day when she unknowingly greeted someone else.

Navigation: Part I || Part II* || Part III (end) || Extra

Words: 2.9k++

Pairing: winter soldier!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: implied 18+ content, implied smut, dubious con on groping reader's body, dark(?) possessive behaviour, google translated russian, our soldat is kinda cute(?) in his own twisted way, and well, basically fluffy times with the soldat.

P/S: Guys, I never planned this at all. I mean, who am I kidding? All of my fics are not planned and I clearly write things out of impulse. Therefore, this one don't have much of a story building/plot because it was born out of one scene that flashed in my head and has been replayed way to many times that I need to let it out. Anyway, I still hope you enjoy it, somehow.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Y/N didn't know when exactly she started this habit but she swore to herself to never grow out of it.

It's been nearly 2 years since the fall of Hydra and the avenger has accepted the winter soldier under their wing. Begrudgingly by Tony, but the rest of them seemed like they're not against it.

Y/N used to be an agent from SHIELD but since the fall, she had been recruited under the avenger's programme and had been living in the tower since.

She remembered the day when Bucky first came in, he was quiet and weary all the time. Like an abandoned cat, picked up by a stranger to come to their home. And it took the whole team months before he slowly adapted.

Who knew he would morphed into a sassy, grumpy little shit, right?

Since the first day, Y/N had been making an effort to make him feel welcomed. Helped him to adjust to modern times. Though it was not regular but she's glad he came to her from time to time to ask about things.

Y/N only meant it to be casual when she greeted him back from his missions. Usually, it'll be something like,

"Oh you're back?"

"How's the team?"

"Good to see you well put together from such horrendous mission."

"God, you look like you fell from 5 flight of stairs."

"Are you even trying to fight back, Bucky?"

But one time, Bucky came back in the morning around breakfast, she wasn't feeling sassy or clever. So, instead of greeting him with playful remarks, in the glory of her messy bed hair and iron man pyjamas, she greeted him with a sleepy smile, "Welcome home, Bucky."

And that surely made the 6 foot, bulky hunk of a soldier paralysed in his spot. His ocean blues slightly widen, and his cheeks deepen in blush.

For a moment, he wondered if this is how he would feel if he had a wife waiting for him to come back from war back in the 40's. But, then again nothing can be compared to the sight he was seeing as he is now.

And Y/N didn't want to ever lose that memory of him.

Cute and flustered Bucky is a very rare sight to see. Perhaps, this was the only time she could witness it and she want to cherish it for the rest of her life.

Though Bucky never replied to Y/N's greeting, it didn't stop them from starting a whole new routine.

Y/N always knew that she had a thing for the sargent, but about 2 months from that moment, Y/N realized she was in love.

And she waited for him, every single chance she had for arrival of the team to come back. Just like she is now, at 03:45 in the morning, while scavenging for something sweet she can eat as she waits for Bucky's return.

When, she turned around she was not expecting to have her face into clashed into something, "Oww!" Y/N shuts her eyes close as she rubbed her aching nose to ease the sharp strike of pain.

For a moment there, she seriously thought she might have just bumped into some kind of a solid air that appeared out of nowhere, but when she opened her eyes, it was just Bucky who was standing rather ominously still.

"My god, you scared the shit out of me. I know you used to be an assassin but, you gotta announce yourself sometimes, man." She joked. Although she did find it impressive that he managed to silently sneak up on her with those thick, heavy combat boots he was wearing.

"Woah, someone's been having a field day kicking your ass, huh?" Y/N's eyes lingered a little longer on the wounds at the side of his temple that she didn't notice the void in his eyes.

"Anyway..." she continued as she shook of the thoughts of caressing the cut on the corner of Bucky's lip, before greeting him with a gentle smile, "Welcome home."

Bucky's unresponsiveness was nothing new to her. With the amount of silent glares and gruff eye-rolls that he had shot at her these past few months, she's used to it by now.

But, when she finally had the guts to look him in the eye, only then she noticed the underlying shift. Albeit, his signature frown was still as present as ever but, those eyes had made her questioned of the slight difference from what she recognized.

Bucky wordlessly step forward and cornered her until her back meets the side of the kitchen isle. He took his time assessing her, almost admiring the way her iris wavered in confusion.

Something is wrong.

Her guts were screaming at her to notice it but her body wasn't reacting accordingly. That's when the voice of the AI, Jarvis echoed through the walls.

"Emergency alert: Code Winter. Initiated by Captain Steve Rogers. All agent is advised..." The announcement went on based on protocol while the cogs in Y/N's brain finally moved, "Code Winter? That means..."

"...to be cautious of Sargent James Barnes; reprimand on sight however try not to engage alone. Agents is..." Jarvis voice in the background interwoven with Y/N's internal deduction, "...This is not Bucky?"

As she tried to put her own mind into perspective, trying to make herself believe that this man in front of her is not Bucky Barnes who she had been adoring over for these past few months, the soldat's hands reached the side of her neck, squeezing the softness of her flesh while his thumbs grazed the shape of her jawline.

His heavy gaze remained on hers, willing her to stay as still possible.

"Bucky...?" She called his name in hopes of triggering something, anything for within his controlled mind.

At end of the corridor leading towards the kitchen, Steve could see how the soldat had already gotten his hands on Y/N and panic strike him like lightning, he sprinted towards her as he despretely shouted, "Y/N! Stay away from--"

But Y/N was not able to render anything she heard from Steve, especially after a long silence, the soldat finally spoke, "Yes, I'm home..."

He carefully pulled her face closer to his as his lips planted on her soft cheek, "...мое cолнышко (my sunshine)" he lifted for a second just to kiss her again on her temple as he whispered lowly, "...мое Родная (my darling)"

Y/N's heart was beating madly for several different reasons. Parts of her was terrified that the soldat might break her neck within an instance, but it gradually changes into something much more confusing, a conflicted joy, when he keep on trailing his lips all over her face.

What is happening?

Both her and Steve was practically frozen in pure confusion.

Steve's mouth hanged open as words failed to form, while Y/N was unable to comprehend any sort of thoughts, let alone counter movements; when the soldat continue to whisper Russian endearments against her skin, littering sweet kisses on every part of her face, except for her lips as if he wanted to tease her.

His hands slowly travel down her back and stopped on the side of her waist, pulling her body closer until there was no space in between them anymore, before he wrapped his arms around her.

The drag of his stubble on her skin burned but it felt so good when he kissed it after.

Seconds later, Sam managed to catch up with Steve and his cautious approach fell as he witnessed the soldat's rather domestic actions towards Y/N.

Sam foolishly let his guard down as he approached with a question directed to Steve, "Is the tin man back?" That was when a bullet barely grazed the tip of his ear that then buried through the wall behind him.

Both Steve and Sam forced to stop any sort of movement as the soldat's aim was still locked towards their direction; his cold blue eyes pierced with a menacing warning, all the while posessively holding Y/N in his arms as his kisses trailed the side of her neck.

"Nope, not yet." Sam answered his own question as he waited for Steve's order.

Y/N felt like she have to do something to de-escalate the situation. After a quick deduction, and based on the soldat attitude towards her, she took the risk of believing that he would not do anything to hurt her, so she decided to play along.

Will it work though?

Well, she got to have to try for it work.

She gulped nervously before softly calls for him, "Soldat?" she looked up towards him.

When the soldat gave her his attention, she watched the loose strand of his hair fall down to his face. Her hand went up and reached for it, "How about we go back to your room and let me tend these wounds, hmm?" She cooed while tucking his behind his ear and briefly caressing his cheek with the back of her fingers.

The soldat didn't reply but instead silently process her proposition.

However, the hesitation only worried her more, so she continued to persuade, as she cautiously slide her hand, following his arm that was holding her teammates at gun point, "It'll be just the two of us. How's that sound?" She smiled warmly at him as she managed to lower it enough to grab the gun away from his grasp.

There was a glint of indecipherable emotion in his eyes when she mentioned that, which then he nodded in agreement.

"Okay then, let's go." She put the gun on the kitchen isle behind her and replaced her hand in his, pulling him towards his bedroom. The soldat did not protest to her lead, in fact her followed her obediently.

But before Y/N makes an exit, she looked back towards Steve and mouthed a reassuring message, "I got this."

The captain had all the rights to be weary but at this point, he just had to believe in Y/N's action plan. He nodded and replied, "Be safe. We'll be outside."

Along the walk towards Bucky's room, all she could think was that she can handle it and she got this under control.

But, does she?

Well, Y/N did have it under control, in terms of keeping the soldat from going on a berserk rampage but what she didn't think through was how the fuck she should handle his behaviour towards her.

After they arrived to Bucky's room, she had instructed him to strip off his tactical suit and leave him sitting at the edge of the bed, only in his short to avoid him reaching for any hidden weapons he had, all the while she went to grab the first aid from his bathroom.

Now that she almost done tending the small injuries on his face, it finally dawned to her that the soldat had her immobilized in between his legs as his hands rubbed the back of her thighs, occasionally squeezing the softness of her body in his tender grip.

His intent gaze waited patiently for her to finish and as soon as she did, he pulled her on his lap, making her to straddle on top him as he smushed his face on her chest, "Oh, Родная (darling)... I have missed you."

Her hands found her balance on his shoulders while the soldat roaming hands held her body still by the back of her waist.

It will be a lie if she said her heart didn't skipped when he confessed; even if it was still the soldat's thoughts and words but it was Bucky's voice.

The soldat pulled his other hand to play with the buttons of her pyjamas shirt, specifically around her chest area.

Part of him wanted to just rip her clothes off from her body but another part of him didn't want to. He didn't want scare her; and his precious little darling deserved to be pampered.

He had her buttons popped off; one by one, slow and almost sensual while Y/N was still in a heated debate with herself on what she should to next. She wanted the soldat to stop but god the temptation of wanting more was beyond her will power.

This is not Bucky.

She knew that. But, she had been bewitched by the look in those familiar blue eyes. So enthralled and so keen to unwrap her.

Y/N let out a low yet sharp gasp as her chest was finally revealed, "Soldat, what..." The soldat take a quick glance into her eyes, "...are you doing?" before trailing back down to the curve of her breasts, cupped so beautifully with a simple black bra.

His hands went back to grabbed her thighs as he replied, "Just wanna hold you." He leaned closer and left a lingering kiss in between her breasts, mumbling deep, " Wanna feel you, мое Родная (my darling)"

Fuck, it feels so good.

"Wanna feel you..." Y/N's grip on his bare shoulder tightened as he lips warmed the top of her right breast, "...here." An unexpected moan slipped out of her lips as the soldat latched his wet mouth on her skin, bruising it with his mark.

He groaned to the taste of her, so sweet and soft, he wanted to pull the bra off her and suckle on her nipple. He bet that they're perky and so sensitive. Bet he could make her cum just by playing with them.

He wanted to leave his bite mark around them, make them look much more prettier. But, he needed to be patient.

He brought his left hand up to hold the other side of her chest; pulling another pretty noise as the cold metal of his thumb gently stroked the exposed skin of her breast.

"Wanna feel you..." His flesh hand made its way lower and cupped her clothed sex, unexpectedly making her grind down to his hold, "...here."

She couldn't help to find shelter in the crook of his neck when he began to stroke her sensually.

This is getting out of hand.

Y/N doesn't mind to entertain him if the soldat only asked for him to hold her but it was clear that he wanted so much more than just innocent touches. Especially when he languidly rubbed his middle finger in between the slit of her pussy.

She hates how easy it was for Bucky's touch turned her on, his hands and his lips; regardless if his actions was someone else's.

This is wrong.

This has to stop.

"No... soldat." She whimpered in his ears as his finger drew slow circles on her clit, his mouth latched on her shoulder.

"I can't touch you here?" He murmured softly as he pressed harder. Even with the barrier of the cotton panties, she was so sensitive to his touch; he loves that about her.

"N-no. You can't." She choked back a moan as she replied.

God, what if he doesn't care?

What if he'll get mad and force it on her?

She can't imagine the guilt Bucky had to experience if the soldat take her right now. And all because her stupid little brain cannot comprehend a plan to stop him, all because she let the soldat touch her as freely, as willingly.

Salty tears started to blur her vision when she sniffled them back.

Much to his deperateness, the soldat pulled her away and watched as her tears spilled out, "Oh darling, don't cry." He leaned in and kiss the corners of her eyes, murmuring his words of comfort, "I hate to see you cry, мое cолнышко (my sunshine)." His metal hand slithered to her back and his palm stroked her lovingly.

"Okay, okay. I won't touch your sweet princess part, okay?" He patted her pussy one last time before reaching to swipe her tears away. "I promise." He whispered.

As much as he wanted to fuck her stupid, fill her hole full with his load; however the soldat does hold her very dear to his heart and hates to see her sad.

"Just let me hold you close, darling?" He cooed as he kissed the edge of her lips.

Y/N didn't know why but she trusted his words. Maybe it was because he was so gentle with her, that she was tricked into believing him.

She watched the soldat waited patiently for her response and when she nodded softly, he swiftly lifted her in his arms and lay her down on the bed.

He tucked himself in under the sheets with her and naturally rested his face on her chest. His fleshed arms wrapped securely around her waist and his metal one around her thighs, as he pulled her closer; almost suffocating himself in between her warm breasts.

It was like an instinct for Y/N to encircle her arms around his neck while her hands run through the thick of his hair, absentmindedly playing with the softness of it.

She almost giggle when the soldat let out a deep-throated sound of relieved sighs as she continued to massage his scalp.

As the soldat started to sail deeper into dreamland, Y/N thought that maybe this will be the only and the last time she had the chance to hold Bucky like this and she knew it was wrong to feel grateful to the soldat because had done nothing but terrible, despicable things in the past.

But when she thought about it, none of those sins was his choice to make. He was created to kill and nothing else.

But what if he had something to hold on to?

A hope to look forward to?

A person to protect?

Or a home to go back to?

Would he still be the same monster he had been before?

She have not a slightest clue.

But, what she does know that this soldat who's clinging in her arms, deserves something kind.

And she hoped that she managed to give him a sense of peace for once in his life.

Y/N nuzzled to the side of his tired-looking face and placed a sweet kiss on his temple as she whispered ever-so-softly, "Welcome home, soldat."

Part II >>

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: This is possibly part 1? I'm not sure either. Feel free to share your thoughts in the comments! And reblogs is much appreciated!

#winterarmyyfics #welcome home soldat au #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #winter soldier × reader #winter soldier x you #winter soldier!bucky #bucky fluff

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bunnybunbun0 · 6 months

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renaissance

summary: because Paul Atreides was a piece of art in bed.

pairing: Paul Atreides X fem!reader

warnings: smut,porn without plot,

A/N: with the hype of dune part two being released i finally got my shit together and watvhed part one years later and oh.my.god. Seeing timmy play a serious important yet loving duke just rocked me a bit. i hope you guys like this!

sorry its short i wasnt planning on writing it,it just came t mind.not proofread,we die like real man. english is not my first language so be kind!

you are responsible for your own media comsumption! :)

credits to gif owner!

Paul Atreides was undoubtly the prettiest man you have ever seen.

And after stumbling upon a book on what ancient civilizations considered art,you were even more convinced he was god´s most wonderful creation.

When he pants on top of you while fiercifully thrusting into your soaked slit,his black curls clinging to his pale skin with a sheer of sweat;a beautiful contrast with his dark hair and white skin.

The sounds leaving the back of his throat are a sweet melody to your ears; the gutural grunts,the ocasional moan,the pants of your name,the filthy things he whispers in your ears.

You were fully convinced paul was the most beautiful work of art youve ever seen,he was ethereal,every trace of his was brushstroke,you lost yourself staring into the honey galaxies of his eyes.

"What are you thinking about that is more important than my cock inside you right now?"

His dirty question gets you out of your head;a long whimper scaped you at how dirty his words were,you tried your best to focus on answering his question,but between his cocktip brushing your sweet spot so deliciously,the force of his hips meeting yours,and the sinful noises that filled the room,all you could do in response was moan and whine.

He lowers his head to your neck,sucking and biting the sensitive pristine skin;you shiver at the thought of being marked by his beautiful lips,having him set a clam on you.

"Answer me" he asks in a grave tone,a shiver rippling through you bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

"You´re beautiful!" you blabber out in a high pitched moan,not even realizing how desperate you sound or how you´re not making any sense to him right now "you´re beautiful! fuck paul,you´re so beautiful"

To say that was not what Pauls was expecting to hear was an understatement,he knew you appreciated his looks;it was clear with your lingering touches on him or how youd be amazedly watching him while he did the most mundane of tasks,but not that you liked it enough to declare it so devotedely while he was deep inside you.

He knew your body better than anyone else,and he could sense you were on the brink of an orgasm,his hand reached down rubbing sensual circles around your clit,not once slowing down his thrusts.

You unravel around him yelping and crying out as your release washed over you,your eyes shut feeling the moment where you and him become one.

A few more faltered thrusts into your now even tighter pussy,and paul was cumming inside you with a string of profanities leaving his mouth accompanied with your name.

You both stare at each for what feels like forever,breathing deeply while coming down from your highs.

Paul was a completely different person once the sexual aact was over,the kiss he pressed on your lips right now was not desperate and hurried,it was calm,soft,he treated you like the wind blow you away into a pile of sand.

He slips out of you carefully,making sure youre okay,carefully enveloping you in his arms and throwing a blanket around both their naked bodies;a confortable silence falls into the room as thetwo of you cuddle,paul lovingly stroking your arms,ocasionally kissing whatever naked skin he could get his lips on.

"You really think i´m that good looking?" he asks with the memory of you moaning out how beautiful he was mid sex stuck in his mind.

In your post orgasm clarity your mind goes back to the beautiful paintings you found on the ancient book,the delicacy of the lines,the softness of the colors and beautiful tragedies behind every piece. The sudden desire to once again tell paul how beautiful he is and make sure to know your ancient knowledge with him are overwhelming.

You sit up in the bed looking up at his face,a smile immediately meeting your lips as you look at him and decide to ask:

"Have you ever heard of Michelangelo?"

#dune #dune x reader #dune x you #paul atreides #paul atredies x reader #paul atreides x you #paul atreides x fem!reader #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet characters #timothee chalamet x reader #paul atreides smut

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bunkoos-mole-enthusiast · 3 months

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Weekly Jungkook Fanfic Recs

Some fine JK fics for your reading pleasure. 🔞 Please show your appreciation to all the wonderful authors:)

Cursed Hours: You know what your boyfriend is? That’s right – horny. And, you know what, you are too. Jeon Jungkook is super mega ultra hot. (Facts.) But. Even you don’t fuck doing cursed hours. You try to delicately explain to your love that there are, in fact, suboptimal times to be asking for banging. (This conversation ends exactly in the way that everyone is predicting.) https://whatifyoulivelikethat.tumblr.com/post/727237944196333568/cursed-hours-m-jjk Touchin': Jeon Jungkook has got ten minutes and a hard dick. So he says. You learn you can’t trust everything he says though. https://whatifyoulivelikethat.tumblr.com/post/721978268910272512/touchin-m-jjk Last Christmas: Last Christmas, she gave you her heart, wrapped up with a note saying, I love you. She meant it. This Christmas, you give her back the stuff she left at your place and run into her next-door neighbor that knew all about your love. Somehow, you end up explaining why it went wrong. https://whatifyoulivelikethat.tumblr.com/post/704515975314391040/last-christmas-m-jjk Not Allowed: The date of Jeon Jungkook’s mandatory military service is drawing close. There’s a heart-to-heart… following by fucking all three holes. What? That harsh training is easier to endure when Jungkook has nice memories of his girlfriend’s sweet, sweet ass. https://whatifyoulivelikethat.tumblr.com/post/738121282845032448/not-allowed-xvii-m-jjk Sink: You left your hair tie, battin’ those eyes by the sink, you leave ‘em behind think I know why... https://whatifyoulivelikethat.tumblr.com/post/731946585290883072/sink-m-jjk Prisoners Of The Moon: Jungkook is the third and youngest prince to werewolf royalty. He is also a white wolf – the rarest of his kind – and a beacon of hope to his people when tensions are high in the forestlands. After decades of tyrannical werewolf reign, the forest spirits are desperate for change and his presence threatens the prospects of a new world order. So, as part of an age-old tradition, they gift you as a tribute of the fairies to the young prince in the hopes that you’ll be the key to a brewing revolution. Unbeknownst to you, you hold the key to so much more. https://archiveofourown.org/works/33945859 Devil In A New Suit: Money’s something that makes the world go around. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with securing the bag. You don’t shame anyone for doing what they need to do. That is, until you come face to face with the poor guy that’s being suckered out of both his heart and cash. You simply can’t let it go on. https://yeojaa.tumblr.com/post/632978831885598720/masterlist-devil-in Lost Stars: Jungkook was lost. He didn’t know who he was anymore, so he decided to leave and find himself. But he wasn't expecting to find you along the way, an island girl who has no idea who he is. Jungkook has a secret. But so do you. https://www.tumblr.com/yoongiofmine/679078722079424512/lost-stars-series-masterlist?source=share Rebound: After being dumped by your boyfriend of three years, your best friends decide the best way to get over someone is getting under someone else. A dingy dive bar in the middle of nowhere is the perfect place to find a rebound. But what happens when you end up on the bed of a punk-rock lead singer who can’t seem to get enough of you? https://yoongiofmine.tumblr.com/post/687877308271443968/rebound-jjk-mini-series-masterlist

#bts jeon jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic recs #jungkook imagine #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #bts jungkook #jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x oc #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #bts fanfic #bts jungkook fanfic #bts fic recs #bts smut #bts imagines

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lovebugism · 1 year

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could i request “mean” eddie and reader going swimming somewhere and maybe she’s in her swimsuit and someone says something that makes him jealous? also just want to say i love you writing sm!!! <3

hi, lovely! thanks so much for your request and your kind words!! i hope you like it xoxo (1.7k)

bug's summer fic fest ♡

Eddie can’t stop staring at you.

It’s not like it’s his fault, though. You’re all sprawled out beside him in a plastic lounge chair, clad only in a bathing suit that leaves little to the imagination. It’s an all-black number with little white bats all over it, clinging to you like it was made to do it.

It’s a wonder the two of you even made it to Hawkins Community Pool, honestly. Eddie's thoughts verge on obscene at the sight of you. But then again, they tend to when you're on his mind.

You lay with your hands folded above your head, totally surrendering yourself to the golden sunlight. It gives Eddie the opportunity to gaze at you fully — even though sometimes he thinks he’s already memorized you by now.

He analyzes you like it’s the first time he’s ever seen you, like you’re the last thing he’ll ever see.

The pudge of the top of your breast spills over the hem of your bikini. The skin of your stomach bulges underneath your high-waisted bottoms. The fullness of your thighs begins to glow beneath the glittering daylight.

He commits all of this to memory and figures maybe that’s what the sun’s doing too, as it paints your skin more golden.

He doesn’t know how he got you.

But he hopes your eyes are closed behind your thick glasses. Or, at the very least, that they block your view of him. Eddie knows he’s unabashedly staring at you, but he also knows he can’t stop. He doesn’t want his ogling to be met with your teasing — even if he is deserving of it.

The Lord of the Rings book in his hands goes quickly abandoned. It’s a feat he even made it to page fifty. He’s flipped through it enough times to memorize it, though. Sort of like you.

Like the novel, he could read you a million times and never get bored. The only real difference is he finds you much, much sexier than printed words on a page.

“I can feel you staring, you know?”

Your voice jolts him from his stupor, light and golden like the slowly setting sun. Your words are nearly drowned out by the sounds of the bustling pool — screaming kids, splashing water, and people trying to converse over it all.

Eddie’s far too attuned to you not to hear you, though.

You’re not looking at him, but he can see the corner of your lip quirk in a slight half-smile.

“Can you?” he deadpans, turning back to his book like he hadn’t been looking at you at all.

The words are all mush, though. He’ll blame it on the stifling summer heat. He was the idiot out here in a black t-shirt and trunks, after all.

“Yeah,” you nod.

He sees your smile completely when you turn to look at him. The sun pierces through your amber lenses, making your eyes more visible beneath them. You’ve got one eye squinted to evade the blinding light. The beam you wear is somehow brighter.

“’S like spidey senses, you know? I can always tell when you’re looking at me, Munson.”

Eddie wants to be embarrassed at the thought. He knows that you’re joking — if only just the slightest bit — but it makes him think about all the other times he’s shamelessly gawked at you. He spent years doing it before you ever got together.

Many of his high school years were spent paying more attention to you than his homework. He thinks maybe that’s why he had such a hard time graduating.

“You’re saying my girlfriend’s a superhero?” the boy jokes, brows raised behind his curly bangs and chocolate eyes going wide. They look more golden in the sunlight, and they twinkle with mischief.

“Uh-huh,” you hum with a wider smile than before. “You didn’t know?”

He shakes his head. Some of his curls still stick to him, damp with the sweat beading on his milky skin. “No. I can confidently say that I didn’t.”

“Good. It was supposed to be a secret, anyway.”

Eddie doesn’t mean to laugh, but he does.

It’s a sharp exhale through his nose more than anything, paired with a crooked pink smile. He wishes he knew how much of a dork you were a year ago. He might’ve asked you out sooner.

“Brush up on your spidey senses before you go out patrolling the neighborhood, alright, Spiderwoman?” he jests in a monotone, turning the page of his book even though he hadn’t actually read it. “’Cause I totally wasn’t staring at you.”

You know he’s lying.

And it’s not just because you could feel it — even though you think his button-eyed gaze can be palpable in its attentiveness at times. But what you lacked in superhero senses, you made up for in awareness of all things Eddie Munson.

You knew when he got quiet that he was in his own head. And being that you hadn’t heard a single page turn in several minutes, you figured his eyes must’ve been on something other than the book in his hands.

Your quip was hardly more than a lucky guess, really.

“Good,” you hum as you flip over onto your stomach. Your backside had been completely deprived of sunlight before now. You prop yourself up on your elbows and lift your sunglasses to the top of your head. Your teasing gaze is no longer amber-coated. “‘Cause that would mean you find me attractive.”

“And that would just be a travesty, wouldn’t it?” Eddie scoffs.

He looks over at you again and finds your changed position. Your back is pointed towards the sun now, the very bottom of your ass on full display. Your thighs are indented softly from the slatted chair beneath you.

He can’t pry his eyes off the combination of the two despite knowing you’re watching him right back.

“It’s okay if you have the hots for me, Eds,” you tell him, feigning sympathy. “I’d only make fun of you a little bit.”

Eddie stays silent for half a moment too long, then shakes his head to dismiss the thought. “Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart. It’s just the heat.”

You scoff. “Yeah. Let’s blame the way you’re ogling at me on sunstroke.”

He still finds it a bit difficult to be your boyfriend sometimes — or just a boyfriend. And it’s not because of you. Not in the slightest. He just sort of put a wall around himself when he was younger. He’s been behind it so long he’s forgotten how to let people back in.

And even though he hasn’t said it yet, he loves the goddamn shit outta you. But for some reason, he can’t let himself be vulnerable in that way — can’t even ask to touch you without coming up with some lame excuse that covers up all his vulnerable-ness.

“You, uh… You put sunscreen on, right?” he asks, shifting slightly in his chair. He spares a brief glance your way from the corner of his eye, halfway concealed by the fluffy brown curls framing his face.

“Yeah?” you answer with pinched brows. “Right after I forced you to put some on, remember?”

He scrunches his nose as he squints at you. It takes everything in you not to lean over and kiss the tip of it. “I don’t know,” the boy singsongs as he tilts his head to his shoulder. “I don’t remember it, actually…”

“Then maybe you’re the one that needs to get checked out, Eds.”

“I think I should just put some lotion on your back,” he summarizes with a shrug, already rising from his chair to swing his legs over the side of it. “You know, just to be safe.”

The teasing glint in his eyes makes you grin. You trap your bottom lip between your teeth to dim its brightness, lest how happy he makes you go to his head.

Your feet lift in their air and twist together with a girlish excitement. It makes your ass wiggle gently. Eddie swears you’re doing it just to tease him.

“Get my legs, too, while you’re at, yeah?” you quip.

Eddie reaches for the tote beside your chair with an effervescence that can only be described as a boy on Christmas morning — his present: the opportunity to touch you. He rises again with the blue bottle in his hand.

A low whistle sounds from behind the both of you.

“Looking good, sweetheart,” Billy compliments with a smirk as he walks by your chair. He’s in his lifeguard uniform — a pair of red swim trunks and his toned, golden torso.

He lifts his sunglasses from his face and rests them on top of his curled mullet. His crystal blue eyes gape at you, far sharper than Eddie’s chocolate syrup ones.

“Bite me, Hargrove,” you deadpan in response.

“I like the sound of that,” he laughs, chomping spearmint gum between his pearly white teeth. He spins on his flip-flops and walks backward to keep ogling at you. “Just give me the word and I’m yours, darlin’.”

He disappears in the bustling crowd after that, fading like rubbed-in sunscreen. You forget about him the second he’s gone.

He’s always been an asshole like that. It’d be a rookie mistake to give more than half a shit about him. But Eddie still feels the boy’s presence like a mean, lean, green monster full of envy. It’s like he’s still there — close enough to punch, even.

He isn’t sure if it’s the heat or if he’s actually seeing red.

“What an asshole,” you murmur under your breath.

“I’m gonna kill him,” Eddie snaps.

“Whoa,” you drawl within a laugh. “Slow your roll, tiger.”

The boy's eyes go wide as he looks over at you again. “I’m not even sure what I just said, honestly.”

“You’re a dork who plays Dungeons and Dragons, remember? You can’t start talking about fighting Billy Hargrove.”

“Yeah. You’re probably right,” he sighs, rigid body finally loosening with the heavy exhale. He squints at you after. “You don’t think I could take him?”

“I don’t thank you have to,” you lilt.

“That’s such a non-answer, babe.”

“I’m just saying,” you giggle with a shrug. “I’m asking you to feel me up, Eds. Not that creep.”

A rosy smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth, smug and full of love.

You meet it with a grin of your own.

“C’mon, I’m burning to a crisp over here,” you urge, shifting in the chair just to make your thighs jiggle in the way you know Eddie likes.

His eyes glaze over at the sight — one he’s seen a million times now — and you know it’s done the trick.

“Let’s give Hargrove a show, yeah?”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things smut #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #bug's summer fic fest!

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flamingpudding · 8 months

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I love your writing so much but I'm here with a crack idea just imagine deage Dan is Klarion.

Dan was able to find out who he is outside of Danny then he was able to change his name Klarion Jackson Fenton/Nightingale he is still a little villain boy also now a mom boy.

Ghost King Danny is his mom young justice was so confused when Klarion you're the best gifts get your mom after not talking to him for a while to also begging them to pretend to be his friend . Justice League dark is panicking in the background about the electric being that just shows up.

Danny in full ghost king attire standing there with a plate of cookies ready to meet his son's new friends.

Thanks so much! I am glad you enjoy my writing!

Also thanks because I absolutely love this Idea/Prompt! Sooooo please enjoy this piece inspired by it! Also I haven't consumed a lot of DC material lately so i am basing this all on my memories. In other words.... I went with Tim's little team here.

Hope that's okay and that this won't disappoint.

-------------------

Dan, who was going by Klarion for some years now, had a massive problem. It was the huge kind of problem build on small bubbles of lies that then turned into this one giant bubble that was about to pop just because of one little question asked by his mom when his sister decided to throw him under the bus to deflect from herself and the fact that she was dating a demon. Don't get him wrong he still loves her, but man did he want to strangle Danielle right now.

"So Klarion, Ellie is right. When will I get to meet your friends you told me so much about?"

It was such an innocent question from his mom. And while his moms titles don't scare him, cause at some point in time they could have been his too, the happy dopey smile like nothing was wrong in the dimensions with little expectations directed at him was the scariest thing his mom could ever direct at him when he had asked THAT question.

So now Klarion was in need of a quick solution. When his mom had asked he had mumbled out a quick: "Next week maybe. We won't be busy with hero stuff then." He had started to form a plan. First of all, he needed to remember what all he had told his mom about his new and redeemed life on Earth 43 he had build for himself with the name Klarion Jackson Fenton-Nightingale.

Which fuck. There was a lot he had told his mom just so he wouldn't worry.

Cause now he also remembers that whenever he had gone out to cause some chaos he had made it seem to his mom like he was going out to bond with his new friend or help them with their hero duty. Well, in a way maybe his chaos causing could be seen as bonding. The ghostly kind, that is. And as for helping with the hero duty... he did give them work, something to do with their hero status. Anyway Klarion tried to remember all possible names he had dropped. Shit why did he also mention to his mom that he was working with heroes to make her proud? He should have name dropped some villains instead but nearly all of them were adults. He knew his mom would have frowned if he had only adult friends and no one around his age.

He was pacing his room in their castle. He need a plan, a good one at that. He knows he name dropped Robin, now Red Robin, Superboy and Impulse on a whim once. Superboy more so cause his mom had been interested in the Alien Heros of the Earth of the dimension he was partially living on now. He had mentioned Robin for the joke of knowing that there is a Dinner in an other Dimension with the same name. And because his Grandfather didn't like the Flash-clan which meant his mom didn't like them too much because of their messing with timelines either, he had mentioned being friends with Impulse on pure spite because of a punishment one day and to see their reactions. So he had to get these three on board anyway, and because for the heck of it he would get Wonder Girl involved too. It was never bad to have a girl in a friends group.

Klarion stopped his pacing. Turning towards his demonic ghost cat companion, kind of what Cujo was to his mom now. "Teekl, I think I have a plan. I will convince these Idiots, that shouldn't be a huge problem. Most of them are normale little flesh sacks." Teekl and him stared for some time at each other and after a moment Klarion huffed turning away with crossed arms. "It's a good plan don't be so sceptical, they are heroes right? They will not refuse my request!"

Well maybe Klarion should have planned this a bit better.

The next day Red Robin blinked at the witch boy up from the ground in the living room of what looked like to be an normal apartment. He had just been in Gotham, working on a case and now he was here? Looking to the left he also noticed that Superboy (the older), Impulse and Wonder Girl were also with him. They all looked stunned he observed and partially disoriented. Additionally they hadn't heard from Klarion since the last time they had foiled his plans on raging chaos upon the earth, that had been weeks ago.

"Kla-"

"I have summoned you heroes here. For the moment it is fruitless to try to leave because of the magic barrier." Okay rude to be cut of but that explained why he suddenly wasn't where he remembered to be last anymore. It was now Superboy who opened his mouth first but before he could even make a sound Klarion decided to speak over them again. "I have presents."

Four young heroes collectively blinked, confused, stunned and weirded out. As the which boy before them waved over to wards a table filled with boxes and packages. "I come in peace today, to proof that I brought these are presents, filled with various goods from different dimensions that should be to the liking of you all. Technologie, accessories, snacks, weapons, as well as clothing styles."

Red Robin shared a glance with his friends, a silent communication but before he once again could say anything Impulse was already by the table going through the stuff. They could here his 'oh's and 'ah's, which inevitably made them curious and they wandered over too. Klarion was not acting hostile at all yet but Red Robin did not trust that so he kept the which boy in clear view the entire time.

"Rob! You gotta see this! That actual futuristic Tech!"

"Look at these snacks."

"These accessories don't look to bad..."

His eye twitched when he noticed Klarion was sporting a smug look. Red Robin had to ask now, because this was not normal for the other. "Okay usually you would have started some big shot chaos plan by now. I don't buy this peace offering act and your way to formal talking. So what is going on?"

The other three, thankfully in Red Robins opinion, finally looked away from the tempting gifts and also turned their attention fully on Klarion. Who's smug smile falter as he let out a sigh and stared at them with what they could only describe as a frustrated look.

"My mom is planning to visit me."

"And?" Impulse asked between munching on three different bags of chips that where on the table.

"And he believes I am friends with you idiots."

They stared slack jawed. Impulse was pinching himself like he couldn't believe what they had just heard. Did one of their Villains, just informed them that their mom believes they were friends? Red Robin was starting to think he might be in a sleep deprived Hallucination.

"Why would she?" Wonder Girl questioned next to which Klarion glared at her with fire in his eyes.

"First of, my mom uses the pronouns he/Him. Be rude to my mom and I will find a way to make your life a permanent hell on earth." Wonder Girl blinked lifting her hands as in a sign of peace. "Second, my mom is under the believe that i work with heroes not against them. I do not have the heart to disappoint him after everything that happened in the past. So I embellished the truth a little."

"A little?" Superboy retorted sarcastically, to which they caught a light blush dusting the which boy's cheeks.

"Look my sister threw me under the bus and my mom wants to meet my friends now! So I need you idiots to play nice with me for when he visits!"

"And we will do that because?" Red Robin crossed his arms, watching their villain sceptically still not really buying this entire act. This was to strange of an behaviour change. Something was up, and he was going to get behind it.

Klarion on the other hand was starting to panic internally. His plan was not as he had hoped. The presents he had specifically gotten from other dimensions with what he believed was their interests did not work to make them simply accept his request. This was the last time he would listen to old man Vlad on how to bribe humans, he wasted his entire week on getting all that stuff. His mom was going to show up soon enough he need to have them act as his friends by then so he could remove the magic barrier. Or else his mom would notices he faked everything.

They left him no choice. He would have to throw his pride away for the sole reason to not disappoint his mom.

All four Young Justice Heroes blinked as Klarion suddenly threw himself on the ground before them into a pleading position.

"Please! I beg you, just for the time my mom is here. Please act like my friends!"

"I didn't think Klarion was a mama's boy...." Impulse whispered to the rest of them in pure disbelief as they stared stunned at the kneeling witch boy.

Cut to the heroes that noticed their teens were missing.....

"Where is he?" Batman growled at the Constantine who was sighing tiredly.

"Look mate, the way you and the other Spandex wearing friends explained it, made it sound like they got summoned by a being of the Infinit Realms." The blond man sighed lighting another cigarette eying the four heroes, Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman and Flash. Zatanna was behind him pouring over a book about the realms and trying to find a tracking spell to trace it back and to where they could have been summoned.

"Don't you have something like a tracker on your boy?" Batman only growled something under his breath to which the Brite couldn't help to arch and eyebrow. Constantine was going to say something sarcasting as Deadman suddenly appeared a panicked look on him. "The Ghost King has chosen to come to our dimension."

"Say bloody what now?" All attention that had been on the heroes and their problem of missing teenage heroes turned now to Deadman and the news he brought with him. "The ghost, shades and spirits talked, for the king has decided to visit our Dimension. They are in an uproar, no one knows of why our King is on his way."

"Bloody fucking hell!" Constantine cursed. "We are fucking screwed! Isn't that guy a fucking tyrannical eldrich war maniac?!"

Deadman nodded solemnly and Constantine uttered another hearty and colourful 'fuck'. While the heroes present exchanged worried glances, not only were their kids missing but now a, by the sounds of it, highly dangerous being decided to appear in their dimension? Batman couldn't help but think that there had to be a connection to the missing teens and this.

Meanwhile in the Infinite Realms the Ghost King Castle...

Danny smoothed out his fur trimmed cape and adjusted his crown so it was floating nicely and evenly on his head. Today was the day he would get to meet his sons friends. He needed to make a good first impression. That was why he had chosen to take on his Ghost King form for this. With the wave of his hand he made an ice mirror appear before him, checking how he was looking once again. Once satisfied he nodded to himself looking over towards Fright Knight who was holding the plate of cookies he had baked himself. It was the fifth batch, and the only one that didn't turn out burned. He had needed Jazz help for this one to turn out well. It was only proper if he brought some cookies for the kids. Also he would have loved to bring his families fudge but... the last time he had tried making them had turned into a disaster.

"Thanks Frighty. Do you think Klarion's friends will like these? Wait don't answer! If they don't like them I will just get something else to thank them for taking care of my boy." Danny rambled on as he glanced at the plate of cookies in his hands. Why was he so nervous? He was just going to get to meet his little boy's friends. Sure his boy had dropped some stories about them and his adventures with them here and there. But hearing stories and meeting the kids were two different things.

Shaking his head Danny put on his best smile as he summoned a portal to Klarions apartment in the 43th Dimension of Earth. It was time to visit his boy in the place he had made his second home and thank the people that looked after his kid.

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ohisms · 3 months

Text

↪ 𝑽𝑨𝑵 𝑯𝑬𝑳𝑺𝑰𝑵𝑮 . ( a collection of sentence starters from the 2004 film . adjust phrasing as necessary . mature themes present . )

oh , [ name ] . it's just you .

where are you going to run , [ name ] ?

what are you saying ?

why do you think i brought you here ?

you said you believed in my work .

i would kill myself before helping in such a task .

you've been so kind to me , [ name ] .

you can't kill me , [ name ] .

so , you're the great [ name ] .

we all have our little problems .

let's make it your decision , shall we ?

i wish you a week in hell .

why don't you do something about it ?

this is all a test of faith .

i can curse all i want , dammit .

you . turn around .

strangers don't last long here .

the laws of men mean little to me .

i don't need your help .

you stay here . they're trying to kill me .

nice to see you too , [ name ] .

did i do something to you in a past life ?

i hope you do have a heart , [ name ] . because someday i'd like to drive a stake through it .

your reputation precedes you .

i am hollow ! and i will live ... forever .

please , say you will not try again .

do not fear me ... everybody else fears me .

i was unprepared . it won't happen again .

do you understand forgiveness ?

i would rather die than help you .

don't be boring , everyone who says that always dies .

may he rest in peace .

how long has it been , 300 , 400 years ?

you don't remember , do you ?

what exactly is it i am to be remembering ?

it's no surprise you would know all about me .

we have such history , you and i .

have you ever wondered why you have such horrific nightmares ?

[ name ] , it's alright , i'm taking you home .

what , did you think we haven't tried everything before ?

no one knows how to kill [ name ] .

i could have used that information earlier .

would you like me to refresh your memory a little ?

allow me to ... reintroduce myself .

i think we've overstayed our welcome .

don't give me that look .

you were right . i'm sorry .

monster ? who's the monster here ? i have done nothing wrong !

look , there's still time .

you were right . i'm sorry .

do you have any family , [ name ] ?

if you value your lives , and the lives of your kin , you will kill me .

evil may have created it , may have left its mark on it , but evil does not rule it .

now you know why they call me a murderer .

oh my god ... you've been bitten .

so much trouble ... so much trouble .

now you will become that which you hunted so passionately . may others be as passionate in their hunting of you .

don't worry , god will forgive us .

how many commandments can we break in one day ?

oh my god , you should be terrified .

how does it feel to be a puppet on my string ?

neither of us has ever settled for half .

you make my skin crawl .

i'm not gonna like this , am i ?

one brief moment of pain , and we can be together forever .

you have no heartbeat .

you are nothing but damned bones , and damned souls .

well , that doesn't sound like a good thing .

we don't have a choice . just don't get killed .

you don't understand , it doesn't matter what happens to me .

god is not the only one that can create life .

you can't go until i say you can go , and i say you can go when you're dead !

you're supposed to die .

we are both part of the same great game , [ name ] , we just find ourselves on opposite sides of the board .

you are being used , [ name ] , as was i . but i escaped , so can you .

if you're going to kill someone , kill them . don't stand there talking about it .

all i want is life . the continuation of my kind .

some things are better left forgotten .

#ohisms #rp meme #inbox meme #inbox prompts #vampire prompts

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itneverendshere · 2 months

Text

THE OTHER SIDE OF PARADISE - rafe cameron (+18) - six

request: "a rafe enemies to lovers 🫣 the reader is jjs sister the whole drama before but then she gets left behind on the ship and rafe ends up comforting her and then yea that’s all I got you can do whatever else the rest 😛"

WARNINGS: domestic violence; blood; injuries; angst; smut;

word count: 7.6k

You saw it on the news before Sarah told you.

Ward was officially in police custody.

They were calling it the biggest crime operation in years, plastering his face on every corner of every newspaper in the country. You saw it first on your busted-up TV, the morning news anchor's serious tone making the gravity of the situation clear before Sarah had a chance to call.

He was stopped.

The man who caused so much pain to everyone you cared about was finally behind bars.

But your relief came with a bit of caution.

This was just the beginning. There was still a trial to face, and you knew how slippery Ward could be. He had enough money to buy whoever he wanted on the island if not the entire country, and the justice system wasn’t always as just as you hoped.

Trials could take months, even years before he was sentenced.

JJ cheered in the background, almost face-planting the ground as he struggled to get off his chair and call Pope. You hadn’t seen him this ecstatic in years, the hallways of your home echoing with “let’s fucking go, baby!” as he made his way upstairs.

You were content.

Was there really anything to be happy about?

Sure, a bad guy was getting what he deserved, but the destruction he left behind was still very much there.

Months ago, when the police contacted you again, you had refused to testify. What Ward did to you was terrifying, but what he did to Sarah, John B, and Rafe? They were the true witnesses to his evil.

You barely got a taste of his wrath. You were lucky. You wanted to be there, of course. Every person Ward hurt deserved all the support they could get. But watching Rafe Cameron—the boy who had idolized his father for years, now a man—sit in a chair facing countless cameras and strangers for hours as he recounted his life under Ward's control? That was a different kind of heartache.

Rafe.

You hadn’t seen him since that day he dropped by, and it felt like he vanished into thin air. You didn’t see him around town, not at the beach, and he never stopped by your job. You started wondering if he’d been cooped up in that awful house all this time.

You couldn’t shake this feeling of worry, knowing he was stuck in the shadow of his dad’s mess. Did he feel abandoned by you?

The thought of him, alone in that house, haunted you. You knew you should’ve reached out, found him as the town buzzed with the details of Ward’s arrest. More stories came out, each more horrifying than the last.

You almost gave in.

One evening, you found yourself riding past the Cameron estate. You'd forgotten how huge it was, and with the light fading, it just looked like this dark outline in the distance You almost went in, stopping by the gigantic gate, but then you saw movement inside and sped away on your bike.

You couldn’t do it.

Whatever was between you both just felt… impossible to cross.

The sound of the waves crashing—it’s always been your escape.

You've spent so much time in the water, it felt like second nature to you. Growing up, swimming and surfing were your ways to get away from your dad’s violence and your mom being, well, absent. The ocean became your sanctuary, where you could forget about the yelling, broken furniture, and bottles littering your house. Floating out there, everything bad just… melted away.

But as soon as you stepped back on the sand and headed home, all that peace would disappear. Both your parents were long gone now, but that dread? It never left. It was like the house still held onto those old memories—the shouting, the fights. Even though it was quiet now, the walls were stained with the past. The creaky floorboards, the dim light, chipped paint—You hated it all.

You've thought about leaving so many times, but something always held you back. JJ, mostly. And, well, money.

Tonight, as you got closer, something felt off. JJ’s truck wasn’t in its usual spot, which wasn’t unheard of, but it felt wrong. The windows were shut too, which You never did—You always keep them open to let in the ocean breeze.

You called out for JJ, expecting his usual shout back, but there was just… silence. You brushed it off. Maybe he was out on the boat or glued to his video games.

You dropped your bag by the door and walked inside, calling his name again. That’s when you saw him.

Luke.

He looked even worse than before—disheveled, eyes bloodshot, reeking of alcohol. He’d been gone for a year. No calls, no messages. JJ and you paid him off, made sure he left the island, but here he was, standing in your living room like he belonged.

“You shouldn’t be here,” You managed, trying to sound stronger than you felt.

He laughed, this dark, hollow sound that made your skin crawl. “Just came to see my kids. That so wrong?”

Liar. You knew what he really wanted. “You need to leave. Now.”

His face twisted, the smirk gone. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“Watch me. Get out.”

He took a step back, hands up like he was surrendering. “I just need a little loan.”

You gripped the doorframe tighter. “No. You need to go. For good.”

He took a step back, raising his hands in mock surrender, “I just need a little loan.”

You tightened your grip on the edge of the doorframe, “No. You need to go, for good.”

For a second, you thought he’d listen, but then he took a step forward, and you could smell the alcohol on his breath.

“I’m not leaving without what I came for.”

“I don’t care,” You snapped, “Get your ass out of my house before I call the cops.”

“This is my house!” He all but screamed, the veins in his neck visible.

“Not anymore,” Your heart pounded in your chest, and every fiber of your being screamed for JJ, wishing he was here, “I’m not afraid of you,” you said, more to convince yourself than him.

He took another step forward, his face twisted in anger. “You always were a stubborn little brat.”

“And you’re a piece of shit.”

He lunged.

You barely dodged him, stumbling back into the living room. “Stay away from me!” You shouted, frantically searching for something, anything to defend myself.

Luke laughed again, that same twisted, hollow sound, and came at you. This time, he grabbed your arm, his grip painfully tight. You raised your other arm to block him, instincts kicking in.

“Stay away from me!” you shouted, frantically searching for something, anything to defend yourself.

“You little bitch,” he snarled, shoving you against the wall. The impact knocked the breath out of you, but you stayed focused.

You couldn’t let him win. Not again.

“You’re gonna give me what I want,” he hissed, his breath hot and disgusting.

“No, I’m not,” you spat back, summoning every ounce of courage you had.

With your free hand, you the grabbed the nearest thing—Mom’s old lamp—and swung it at him. The base cracked against his head, and he stumbled back, cursing.

“Bitch!” he roared, blood running down his face. It only made him angrier. He rushed you, knocking the lamp out of your hand, pinning you to the floor.

You were panicking, resorting to kicking and thrashing, doing anything to try to throw him off. “Get off me!” you screamed, clawing at his face.

His hand came down hard across your cheek, blurring your vision. “You really think you can fight me?”

He wrapped his hands around your throat, squeezing. Gasping for air, you remembred that you’d been here too many times. Your hand groped blindly on the floor, finding a heavy candlestick.

With the last of your strength, you swung it with everything you had, hitting him square in the head.

His grip loosened, and you scrambled to your feet, panting as he slumped to the side, groaning in pain.He groaned, trying to get up, but you hit him again. Harder this time. He collapsed, blood pooling around him. You stood over him, breathing heavy, barely processing what you'd just done.

But then, he stirred. He reached for your ankle.

You stumbled back, “Stay down goddamit!” you shouted, raising the candlestick again.

Luke pushed himself up, eyes wild with rage. “You’re gonna pay for that,” he spat, lunging at you again.

This time, you were ready.

As he reached for you, you twisted to the side, driving your knee into his stomach. He grunted, doubling over, and you brought your elbow down on his nose. It cracked. He roared, grabbing blindly at you.

You ducked and shoved a chair between you both, but he kicked it aside. It bought you just enough time to reach the kitchen. You grabbed the first thing yousaw—a cast-iron skillet.

He staggered into the kitchen after you, blood and sweat on his face.

“You just had to put up a fight, huh? Just like her.”

“Stay back,” you warned, gripping the skillet like your life depended on it. “I’ll fucking do it.”

Luke laughed, this sick, deranged sound that made your stomach churn. Then he lunged. Without thinking, you swung the skillet as hard as you could, the impact vibrating through your whole arm as it connected with his shoulder. He staggered, but you didn’t stop. You swung again, this time aiming for his head. The sound of the skillet hitting his temple echoed through the room. He collapsed, finally still.

Oh fuck.

For a moment, the house was deathly silent.

You dropped the skillet, your hands trembling.

Kneeling down, you checked for a pulse. It was faint, but there. Relief and horror flooded through you simultaneously. You almost killed him. There was blood everywhere—on the carpet, on the candlestick, on your hands.

You stumbled back, your mind spinning out of control. What if he dies? What if you actually killed him? This wasn’t supposed to happen. You just wanted him gone. Out of your life. Forever.

Your hands were trembling as you fumbled for your phone. You couldn’t think straight, your heart racing as you scrolled through your contacts. The names blurred through your tears. You needed help, but you couldn’t call JJ—he wasn’t here. And you couldn’t call the cops. Not yet. You weren’t ready for all of this.

Without fully realizing it, your finger landed on a contact you hadn’t called ever before. Your hands moved on autopilot, and the phone was already ringing. You kept your eyes on Luke, praying he wouldn’t move. The phone rang for what felt like an eternity.The phone rang, and you kept an eye on Luke, praying he wouldn’t move. It rang for only ten seconds, but it felt like an eternity.

“Maybank?”

“Rafe?” Your voice broke, the word barely making it out before a sob tore through your chest.

There was a brief pause, and then his voice came through, “Hey, hey. What's wrong? Are you okay?”

But you couldn't speak. Hearing his voice after all this time, after everything that had happened, it was too much. The fear, the relief, the chaos, all of it came crashing down, and your breath hitched.

You couldn’t think.

“Hey! Are you there? Talk to me!” Rafe's voice grew more urgent.

You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat, a sob escaping instead. Your knees gave out, and you sank to the floor, the phone slipping slightly in your grasp. You could barely breathe.

“Where are you?!”

You focused on his words, trying to match your breath to his timbre.

In. Out. In. Out. It helped, if only a little. The shaking in your hands lessened, but the fear never disappeared.

“I think... I think I killed my dad.”

You looked at the bloodstained carpet, the unconscious body of your father still lying there. The words felt foreign on your tongue, like someone else was speaking for you.

“Are you home? Are you safe?”

“I’m home,” you whispered, “JJ’s not here. I don’t know where he is.”

“I’m coming,” Rafe said, no hesitation in his voice. “Stay there. Don’t touch anything. I’ll be there soon.”

“Rafe—” You began, but he cut you off.

“I’ll be there soon. Just hang on, okay?”

The minutes ticked by, and you found yourself staring at the door, willing Rafe to appear. This wasn’t you. You didn’t hurt people. You just wanted peace. Why did it always end like this? What were you going to do? How were you going to live with yourself if Luke died?

Why did things never work out the way you wanted them to?

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, you heard the sound of a car pulling up outside. Moments later, the door burst open, and there he was.

“Maybank?”

He called out for you as he stepped inside.

Seconds later, he was standing in front of you, scanning the room, analyzing the scene. He rushed to your side, pulling you into his arms without hesitation.

“It’s okay. I’m here. You’re gonna be okay.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple as he guided you away from the scene, his eyes lingering briefly on your father’s motionless figure.

“What happened?” He asked softly, leading you to sit on the couch.

“He just showed up out of nowhere. He wanted money. I told him to leave, but he wouldn’t. He got violent, and I... “

“It’s okay.”

His warmth helped. But guilt? It stayed. The blood on your hands—it all felt surreal, like a nightmare you couldn't wake up from.

“Have you called 911?”

You shook your head, lips trembling as you tried not to cry.

“Do you want me to?”

The thought of police cars and paramedics filling the house, made your stomach churn. The fear of what might happen if Luke woke up, or if he didn't, paralyzed you. It took you a second to realize he already had his phone out, pressed to his ear.

"I need an ambulance.”

He stayed on the line with the dispatcher, giving them your address and the details. Your ears were ringing, unable to make out exactly what he was saying.

"They're on their way," he reassured softly. "It’s gonna be okay."

You nodded, but you weren’t sure you believed it.

"They'll take him to the hospital," He murmured, more to himself than anyone else. "He'll get the help he needs."

"I... I didn't mean to..." you finally managed to whisper, your voice trembling.

Rafe’s hands griped yours, despite the blood coating it, "I know.”

The minutes felt like hours as you waited for the ambulance. You just wanted it to be over.

When the paramedics finally arrived, Rafe guided them to Luke's unconscious form while you sat numbly on the couch. They immediately went to work, assessing his condition and preparing him for transport. Police officers soon followed, asking questions, and taking statements. Rafe handled most of the interaction, protecting you from the brunt of their interrogations. After what felt like an eternity, they finally moved Luke onto a stretcher and carried him out of the house. He followed them to the door, speaking briefly with one of the paramedics before they loaded Luke into the ambulance and drove away.

He kneeled in front of you, “You can’t say here, okay? They called JJ, he’s on the mainland, but he’ll take the first ferry down here tomorrow.”

You nodded, feeling drained.

"Come on," Rafe urged, helping you to your feet. "Let's get you out of here."

He guided you out of the house and into his truck, the engine already running. The drive was quiet, the only sound being the hum of the engine and the occasional sniffle from you.

Rafe reached over, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. You slumped back in the plush seat, eyes closed, trying to steady your breathing, too embarrassed to look at him.

“I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

You didn't even register where you were headed until the truck pulled to a stop. When you finally opened your eyes, you realized you were at Rafe’s place.

Tanneyhill.

It felt odd, being there, and under such circumstances. He helped you out of the truck, guiding you inside with a protective arm around your waist.

"Sit down," he said gently, leading you to the living room. "I'll get you some water."

You sank into the expensive couch, feeling the soft cushions envelop you. It was weird sitting in his home after everything that had happened.

He returned quickly with a glass of water, pressing it into your trembling hands.

"Drink," he instructed, sitting beside you.

You took a small sip, the cool water soothing your dry throat. Rafe watched you closely.

"You need to rest," he said. "I’ll be right here."

"But I—"

"You need to rest," he repeated firmly, "We can talk more in the morning.”

There was a part of you that wanted to argue, to insist that you were fine, that you didn’t need his help. You’d done this for years, alone. And yet, here he was, offering you help. Maybe it was the exhaustion, maybe you just missed him, but for once in your life, you didn’t fight him.

You nodded, letting him take you upstairs.

"Let's get you cleaned up," he said, noticing the blood still on your skin and clothes. "You can’t go to bed like this."

At this point, you were too tired to speak, simply following his instructions as he guided to the bathroom.

"Here," he turned on the shower and adjusting the temperature. "Take your time. I'll leave some clean clothes for you right outside the door."

You slipped into the bathroom and shut the door behind you. The sound of the water running felt comforting, like a tiny slice of normalcy in the middle of this mess. Your hands shook a little as you peeled off your clothes, your shorts sticking to your skin. The sight of the dried blood on your hands and shirt almost broke you all over again. This couldn't be real.

You just stood there for a while, letting the heat work its way into your muscles. Eyes closed, you tried to block out the image of your dad lying there on the floor. Slowly, you started scrubbing your skin, trying to wash away every trace of what had just happened. The soap smelled like lavender, and for a split second, you smiled—this was Rafe’s scent. You recognized it from earlier when he hugged you. Somehow, that tiny detail grounded you, pulling you back to the present.

By the time you stepped out and wrapped yourself in a fluffy towel, you felt slightly more like yourself.

Outside the door, Rafe had left you some clothes: his sweatpants, a t-shirt, and boxers—like he said he would. They were a little too big, but warm and soft, like a hug. And, well, they were Rafe’s. That felt oddly comforting.

You opened the bathroom door to find him waiting in the hallway. He seemed relieved to see you and you hated yourself for making him worry so bad.

"Feeling better?"

"A little," you admitted. "Thank you."

He nodded, then motioned for you to follow. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

He led you to a guest room, the bed already made with fresh sheets. It looked so inviting, you almost forgot everything that happened tonight. Almost.

“Sit here,” he said, gesturing to the edge of the bed. He disappeared for a second and came back with a first-aid kit. Kneeling in front of you, he gently took your hands in his. “Lemme see.”

Your hands were scratched up and bruised, still carrying the marks from your dad. You hesitated but then slowly extended them to Rafe.

“This might sting a little,” he said softly, wiping the cuts with antiseptic. You winced but didn’t make a sound. He noticed though, his brows furrowing in concern. “I’m sorry."

"’M used to it. It’s okay,” You nodded, biting your lip as he cleaned the wound.

The antiseptic burned, but you focused on Rafe’s face, the way his brow furrowed in concentration, the softness in his eyes as he wrapped your hand with practiced care.

“I didn’t want to drag you into my mess.”

Rafe paused, his hands stilling for a moment.

“You’re not a mess.”

You let out a short, dry laugh. “Right.”

His fingers continued their work, securing the bandage with gentle precision. “I mean it.”

His tone was so final, like there wasn’t even room for doubt.

“Why—Why did you pick up the phone?”

“You know why.”

His answer made your heart hurt, the kind of hurt that came from months of trying to keep your distance. But he wasn’t budging, and that did something to you. When he finished wrapping your hands, he set them gently in your lap. “All done.”

You sank into the mattress as he pulled the blankets over you and ssomething about it felt so foreign and so… nice. No one ever took care of you like this.

“C-Can you stay here?”

He paused, adjusting the pillows, clearly debating with himself. “I don’t think—”

“Please.”

Without saying anything, Rafe slipped off his shoes and climbed into bed next to you. He pulled you into his arms, and instantly, everything felt a little less terrifying. His warmth, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the faint scent of lavender—it all made you feel safe, like maybe you could finally let go.

"It's okay. I'm here. You're safe."

You buried your face in his chest, tears finally spilling over, but this time they weren’t from fear. They were from relief. From release. Rafe held you tighter, his hands gently rubbing your back in soothing circles. He didn’t say anything more. He didn’t need to. He just held you, and that was enough. The minutes passed and your breathing synced with his, your body finally relaxing for the first time in what felt like forever. The tension started to melt away, and before you knew it, your eyelids were getting heavy.

"Thank you," Your voice was muffled against his chest. "For everything."

He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Sleep.”

You snuggled closer to him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest, and for the first time in a long time, you felt at home.

When you woke up the next morning, Rafe was gone. The bed next to you was cold, but the events of last night still pushed heavy on your chest. You sat up, your heart dropping to the floor as you realized the nightmare wasn’t over. The bloodstained clothes on the floor, the hollow feeling in your chest—it was all real.

You felt an immense amount of guilt as you remembered how you had leaned on him for support after you cut him out of your life. He had enough going on with his own family, his own problems. And now you’d dragged him into yours.

You rolled out of bed, Rafe's oversized sweatpants and t-shirt practically swallowing you whole. You had no idea where he went, so you headed toward the door, ears perked for any clue. As you walked down the hallway, you heard voices coming from the kitchen—well, Rafe’s voice, specifically, speaking in a low hushed tone.

You hesitated for a moment, your curiosity getting the better of you. Slowly, you made your way towards the kitchen, the sound of his voice growing clearer with each step.

“…I don’t care what it fucking takes,” Rafe all but spat, his tone filled with determination. “Yeah, I know the charges will stick. Just make sure he doesn’t get out on bail. I don’t want him anywhere near her again.”

You froze mid-step. What?

He paused, listening intently. You took another step closer, peering around the corner to see him standing by the counter, his phone pressed to his ear.

“No, she’s fine,” he continued, “But I want to make sure she stays that way.”

You felt your breath hitch. Oh my god. He was talking about your dad. He was trying to protect you, even now.

“Rafe…”

He turned around, his eyes widening as he saw you standing there.

“I’ll call you later.” He hung up fast, slipping his phone into his pocket, trying (and failing) to act casual. “Hey, you’re up.”

“What were you doing?” You asked, arms crossed. “Who were you talking to?”

“Hmm?”

“Rafe,” You warned, too tired to play games, “Who were you talking to?”

He sighed, looking impossibly uncomfortable as you sized him up.

“My lawyer. Getting a restraining order for you.”

The confirmation nearly made your brain split into two.

“What?”

Rafe hesitated, knowing he couldn't hide the truth from you. Not that he even tried lately. He ran a hand through his buzzed hair, a gesture you recognized as a sign of his unease.

"I'm trying to get a restraining order against your father."

"Why?"

“Why?”

His eyes met yours, so serious. “Because you need one.”

You stood there, completely thrown. He was really doing this—for you? He was going to bat for you, putting himself in the line of fire to protect you from the man who had haunted your life for so long. Tears welled up in your eyes, and you didn’t even try to stop them.

“I’m sorry.”

"Stop saying that," He rubbed his hand over his face like he didn’t know what else to do, "What happened last night… it’s not something you should ever have to deal with. I should’ve been here sooner. I should’ve—"

“You couldn’t have known.”

Rafe shook his head, "I should've been here.”

You walked closer, closing the distance between you. "Rafe, you don't owe me anything."

He reached out tentatively, his hand hovering in the air for a moment before he gently cupped your cheek. His touch was familiar, comforting and you leaned into it, closing your eyes briefly.

"I owe you everything," he murmured.

You let out a shaky breath, “Don’t say that.”

But he wouldn’t let it go. He tilted your face up, thumb brushing away a tear. “You think I’d be there if it wasn’t for you? Shit—Pretty, look around. It’s just me.”

Your heart pounded in your ribcage, the sincerity in his tone making it hard to breathe. You had spent so long building up walls around your heart, convincing yourself that you didn’t need anyone, that you could handle everything on your own.

“You’ve been alone?” You all but sob, “You’ve been here all this time? By yourself?”

Rafe’s jaw tightened, “Don’t cry. Please don’t cry,” His hand on your cheek trembled slightly, “I’m okay, see?”

You covered his hand with yours. “I was so mad at you,” You admitted.

“Baby—”

“You don’t understand,” you explained, voice cracking slightly, “I just... I didn’t know what to do.”

He drew you closer, his other arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you against him. You melted into him instantly.

"I deserved it,” Rafe muttered, trying to laugh but failing.

You shook your head, tears streaming down your cheeks, "You told me you were getting clean, that you were seeing a psychologist, and I-I wasn’t there.”

Rafe’s grip on your hand tightened, his eyes pleading with you to understand. “I was a train wreck, and I hurt you. You needed to protect yourself.”

“But I should’ve been there for you,” you insisted, your voice breaking. “You were trying to get better, and I just...walked away.”

“Jesus Christ Maybank” He let out a breathy laugh, almost like he didn’t know how to handle the conversation.. “Stop the waterfloods, you’re gonna make me cry.”

“Shut up,” I sniffled, laughing through the tears. “I’m trying to apologize—”

“You don’t have to, baby,” He cut you off, shaking his head, “Not to me, or anyone else.”

His breath mingled with yours, his presence soothing you in a way you hadn’t felt in months.

Your heart pounded in your chest as he closed the distance, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, hesitant kiss. It was as if he was testing the waters, ensuring you were okay with this, and when you didn’t pull away, the kiss deepened. His hand moved to the back of your neck, holding you gently but firmly as his lips explored yours.

You felt yourself give in to him, your hands gripping his shirt to make sure he was real. You’d dreamed about him for too damn long to understand the difference. The kiss was slow, deliberate…loving.

When you finally broke apart, gasping for air, Rafe rested his forehead against yours, breath ragged.

“Can’t believe you made me fall in love with a pogue.”

Oh.

You blinked, caught off guard.

“In love?”

He bit his lip, looking nervous all of a sudden. “Yeah.”

You could see the anxiety roaring inside him. The way his shoulders seemed to squeeze back in, eyes dropping to your lips.

You smiled, brushing yours fingers against his cheek. “Never thought I’d fall for a kook.”

Rafe groaned, dropping his head onto your shoulder, teeth grazing against your skin, “Don’t play with me.”

“I’m not,” You whispered, tilting his chin up so he had to look at you. “I mean it."

His eyes examined yours for a long moment as if confirming your words. Then, without even saying anything, he closed the distance between you again. This time, no hesitation. None of that uncertainty from before.

His hands roamed over your body, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t get enough. The kiss was so different from the one before. You could feel the heat building between you, that undeniable chemistry pulling you together.

His hands slipped under your shirt, his shirt, the touch of his fingertips on your bare skin sending shivers down your spine. Rafe’s lips trailed down your neck, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin there, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You gasped, tilting your head to give him better access. His hands were everywhere, exploring, caressing, making you dizzy with need.

“I need you,” your voice came out all breathless, your fingers clutching his shoulders.

He stopped for a second, lifting his head to look at you, those blue eyes dark with desire.

“You’re hurt,” he muttered, swallowing hard. “Last night—”

“I don’t care,” you replied, shaking your head. “You fucked me after I got shot.”

“That night was different. We were different.”

You nodded, the memory flashing in your mind. The urgency, the desperation, how you clung to each other like you were drowning.

He hesitated for a split second longer, his thumb brushing over the bruise on your cheek. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“You won’t,” you promised, pulling him back to you. “I trust you.”

That was all he needed. His restraint melted away, and he kissed you like he couldn’t help himself, lifting you easily and carrying you upstairs. When he laid you down on the bed, it was so gentle, like you were the most precious thing to him.

Rafe hovered over you, his eyes locked on yours as he stripped off his shirt. Your hands traced the lines of his muscles, loving the way they moved under your touch. He leaned down, capturing your lips in another kiss, hot and deep, as his hands started unbuttoning your shirt.

Everything blurred after that—clothes disappearing, just the two of you, skin to skin. His hands, his lips, everywhere.

“Do you know how much I missed you?” he murmured.

You smiled, cupping his face, “Tell me.”

Rafe’s breath hitched, “Every damn day. Every fucking minute. I’d close my eyes and all I could see was you.”

His voice faded, but his hands kept moving, tracing soft patterns along your sides. He was rediscovering you, like it had been forever.

You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer. “I’m here now.”

Rafe smiled against your skin, his hands sliding down to grip your hips, holding you steady. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked again.

You nodded, pressing a kiss to his jaw, “More than okay. I want this. I want you.”

His kisses trailed down your neck, slow and deliberate. “I love the way you laugh,” he whispered against your skin, his lips brushing your collarbone. “How your eyes light up when you talk about something you care about. How strong you are, even when you don’t see it.”

You shivered at his words, your heart swelling with love for the man holding you so tenderly. "Rafe..."

He kissed your lips softly, silencing you.

"I love the way you look at me," he continued, his hands slipping under your shirt, caressing the bare skin beneath. "Like I'm the only person in the world. Like I matter."

You could feel tears welling up in your eyes, overwhelmed by the intensity of his words, his touch.

"You do matter," you whispered, your voice breaking. “You matter to me.”

Rafe's hands moved lower, teasing the waistband of your, his, boxers.

“I love how brave you are," he said, his voice husky, "How you face everything, even when it's terrifying." He slid them down, eyes never leaving yours. “Last night… I was terrified. I thought I was gonna lose you.”

You reached for him, fingers tangling in his grown-out hair, pulling him closer. “I’m right here,” you whispered, lips brushing his. “Right here.”

Rafe's hands found your hips, his touch firm and reassuring. "I love you," he said again, "And I need you to know that. Shit, I need you to feel it."

You nodded, tears streaming down your cheeks. "I do. I feel it."

He kissed you again, this time with an urgency that made your heart race against your ribs. His lips, his hands, everything about him was showing you just how much you meant to him. You could feel him holding back though, his body tense under your hands. You trailed your fingers down his back, feeling every inch of him, and it wasn’t long before he pressed against you, letting you feel just how much he wanted this too.

His lips found your breasts, kissing and teasing, his hands caressing your sides, your hips. You moaned, arching into his touch, your body trembling with need. "Rafe..."

He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire, "I love the way you say my name. Like it's the only word that matters." He kissed his way down your stomach, his hands sliding lower, teasing you, driving you wild with anticipation. "I love the way you taste," he breathed, hot against your skin. "The way you feel."

You gasped, your body arching off the bed as his fingers found you, teasing, exploring.

"Rafe, please..."

He kissed his way back up your body, "I've got you. I'm here. Tell me if you want me to stop."

You shook your head, urging him on. "Don't stop.”

He kissed your hip bones, his hands gently spreading your legs wider. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, and the intensity in them made your breath catch. He moved lower, his lips trailing down your inner thigh, his fingers lightly caressing your other leg.

When his mouth finally reached your pussy, you gasped, your body arching off the bed. His tongue flicked out, teasing you, tasting you.The sensation was electric, sending jolts of pleasure through you. Fuck you missed this. His grip on your thighs tightened, holding you in place as he continued his slow, deliberate assault.

He explored you with his tongue, each movement precise,intentional. He found a rhythm that made your head spin, alternating between gentle flicks and firm strokes. You moaned, your fingers tightening in his short strands, pulling him closer, needing more.

Rafe responded to your silent plea, his tongue delving deeper, his hands gripping your thighs harder, fingernails digging into your skin.

The pressure built, an overwhelming pleasure that threatened to consume you whole. He groaned against you, the vibration sending you even higher.

"Mmm," you gasped, your breath coming in short, desperate bursts. "Don't stop. P-Please, don't stop."

He didn't.

He increased his pace, his tongue moving faster, his hands sliding under your hips, lifting you slightly to give him better access. You could feel the heat pooling in your core, the pleasure building to an unbearable peak. Rafe’s mouth never left you, his tongue driving you to the brink. You cried out his name, your body trembling as you teetered on the edge. He sucked gently, his tongue flicking rapidly, and that was all it took. You shattered, not a wave, but an entire fuckcking ocean of ecstasy crashing over you, your vision going white as the pleasure consumed you. He continued his ministrations, guiding you through your orgasm, his tongue and lips never slowing, drawing out every last bit of pleasure.

When you finally came down, your body spent and trembling, Rafe kissed his way back up your body, his hands soothing the aftershocks with gentle caresses.

He hovered over you, his lips capturing yours in a deep, passionate kiss. You could taste yourself on him, the intimacy of it making your heart swell.

"My perfect girl," he growled against your lips.

Your bruised hands roamed over his broad shoulders, feeling the tension in his muscles, he shifted, pressing his hips against yours, letting you feel his arousal. You moaned into his mouth, your hands moving lower, wanting to touch him, to feel him inside you.

Rafe’s breath hitched as your fingers brushed against the waistband of his boxers, teasing him.

“Are you sure?” he asked one more time, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I’ve never been more sure,” you answered, and that was it.

He cared so much it nearly sent you into an emotional spiral again.

In one swift motion, he shed his boxers, and you took in the sight of him, hard and ready. He moved over you, positioning himself between your legs, his eyes never leaving yours. He took his time, teasing you with his fingers, making sure you were ready for him.

You gasped at the feeling—God, you missed him. Every inch of him.

He paused, forehead resting against yours, giving you a moment to adjust. “Fuck, I missed this,” he groaned, his voice strained.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him to move. “Don’t hold back,” you whispered, almost begging. “I want all of you.”

Rafe didn't need further encouragement.

He started moving, slow at first, but each roll of his hips had you feeling like you were losing it. Every time he pushed deeper, you swore you could feel him in your bones. Your nails dug into his back, leaving marks that you knew would be there tomorrow, but right now? You didn’t care. You just needed to feel closer to him.

His kiss was intense—like he was pouring everything into it, his tongue matching the rhythm of his hips, making your whole body shiver. His hands were all over you, one sliding under your back to pull you even closer, the other tangling in your hair, keeping you exactly where he wanted. You moved with him, your bodies syncing up like you’d never been apart.

Rafe’s pace picked up, and you could tell he was losing control, his thrusts coming faster, harder. And then, his voice, low and rough, sent a chill straight through you.

“Don’t stop, baby. Fuck—don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” he growled, his words barely audible between breaths. “Never.”

That was it—he completely let go, moving even harder, like he couldn’t get enough of you. The sound of your bodies crashing together, the moans and gasps—it was all so intense.

You didn’t understand the sudden urge, but suddenly, without even thinking, you pushed at his chest, flipping him onto his back.

“Your turn,” you whispered, climbing on top of him, straddling him. He looked up at you, a little surprised, but the way his hands landed on your hips made it clear he was all in. And God, you’d never seen him look so good.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, his hands sliding up your sides, cupping your breasts gently. “Every part of you."

You leaned down, brushing your lips against his stubbled jaw. That roughness on your skin sent a rush through you, especially when you felt him brushing against you just right. You let out a soft moan, then pulled back, grinding down on him. The way his eyes darkened, the way his fingers tightened on your hips, it was like you were driving him wild.

“You like that?” you teased, your voice low, your fingers running down his chest.

“Fuck, yes,” he groaned, gripping you harder. “You feel incredible.”

You reached between you, guiding him back inside, both of you gasping at the sensation. You started moving, slow at first, taking your time with it, loving the way he filled you.

Rafe’s hands were everywhere, caressing you, teasing you, making you lose it a little more with every touch. “God, you’re perfect,” he murmured, his eyes locked on yours. “Ride me, baby. I wanna see you come again.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, spurring you on. You increased your pace, rolling your hips, finding the angle that drove you both to the edge. Your hands braced against his chest, your nails digging into his skin as you rode him harder, faster.

“Fuck, Rafe,” you gasped, your breath coming in short, desperate bursts. “You feel so good inside me.”

He groaned, “You can’t be real,” his hands guided your hips, urging you to move faster. “This can’t be real—Shit, keep doing that.”

The pleasure built with every movement, your bodies moving together like they never parted.

You could feel the heat pooling in your core, the tension building, ready to snap. Rafe’s hands slid up to your breasts, teasing your nipples, sending jolts of pleasure through you.

“Come for me, baby,” Rafe urged, his voice rough with desire. “I want to feel you come around me.”

His words pushed you over. You cried out, your body arching, your vision going white as the orgasm crashed over you. Rafe groaned, his hips thrusting up to meet yours as he followed you, his release filling you, pretty hisses and groans filling your ears.

You collapsed on top of him, both of you completely spent, still trying to catch your breath. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close, and you buried your face in his neck, overwhelmed by how intense everything felt.

When you looked up, the way he was staring at you caught you off guard. There was this softness, this disbelief in his expression, like he was seeing you for the first time.

"What?" you asked softly, a smile tugging at your lips despite the slight confusion.

He blinked, like he was snapping out of it, then gently traced your cheekbone with his fingers.

“I just… I can’t believe you’re real.”

“Rafe…”

He silenced you with a soft kiss, his lips barely brushing yours, but it sent a wave of warmth through you.

“I love you, Pretty Maybank,” he whispered.

You smiled, heart full. “I love you too.”

492 notes · View notes

petrichor-han · 2 months

Text

summer lovin’ ; hwang hyunjin

PAIRING I hyunjin x afab!reader

CAST | hwang hyunjin, han jisung, mentions of the rest of skz

WC | 6.4k

GENRE I fluff, smut, (slight) crack, enemies to lovers, summer camp!au, camp counselor!au, reverse trope: too many beds/two beds

WARNINGS I explicit sexual content (making out, breast play, handjob, oral [m and f recieving], ball & clit sucking, teasing, grinding, p in v sex, dirty talk, clit stimulation, unprotected sex), explicit language, e2l so they're kinda mean to each other but they're nice in the end <3

SYNOPSIS | you find yourself as a camp counselor at the very summer camp you spent so many years at as a kid—except this time, you’re stuck with a very annoying (and, admittedly, very attractive) co-counselor and bunkmate.

A/N | requested by anonymous. thank you SO much for this request; i loved writing this reverse trope!! i also turned this into a summer camp au because a) it's summer and b) i was trying to think of places besides hotels where there are multiple beds in one room. anyways, hope you enjoy and thanks again!! if you enjoyed please reblog and consider leaving a few kind words <33 (event is now closed, but requests are open.)

REQUEST! | EVENT MASTERLIST

Yeah, okay. Maybe in hindsight, scrolling through your social media at a red light was a really stupid idea regardless. Maybe you shouldn’t have given him the silent treatment when he asked if you hated him. And you definitely shouldn’t have dented his fancy car with your lamp. Maybe it’s not so surprising that he doesn’t like you, based on everything that he knows about you so far. Maybe this was all your fault, and you should take the blame entirely.

Or maybe it’s not.

Restless, you turn over in bed, sighing—only to look straight into Hyunjin’s dark, sparkling orbs as he stares right back at you, his gaze already fixated on your form.

12 HOURS EARLIER.

Your thighs are practically melted to the cheap, fake leather that makes up your car seats. And there’s not much you can do about it either, since your car’s air conditioning is broken and the weather is already sizzling—even though it’s hardly past eight in the morning. It’s the sort of day that’ll surely be a scorcher, the sort of day that you like to spend inside.

Instead, you’re driving down to the summer camp that you used to go to when you were a kid. You had plenty of good memories here—you liked summer camp after all, but it wasn’t like you exactly wanted to spend your summer here as an adult. You can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy as you think about all of your classmates and friends that have the budget to take luxurious vacations to various beaches, islands, and countries—and what they might be doing right now. As your car slows to a stop at a red light, you pick up your phone and quickly open your social media, scrolling through a few recent posts to see what’s going on with everyone. You can’t help but be nosy, when you’re so deep in your own stinking envy.

A gasp escapes your lips, your hand coming up to rest on your chest as you narrow your eyes and furrow your brow at the next post on your feed. A girl that you used to go to high school with posted about being in the Bahamas, with her rich husband and their darling new baby—who’s smothered in sunscreen and wearing a swim shirt that’s about two sizes too small mind you, but they’re so perfect that it doesn’t even matter. Jealousy bubbles up in your stomach as you scroll through her post, looking at the background of the photos—beaches with white sand and cerulean waters, an obviously expensive hotel room, and a clear, private pool with a view of the entire resort. You gnaw at your nails as you click on her profile, groaning aloud as you see her other recent posts—clearly, she’s been doing a lot of traveling lately. And all with her husband’s fat paycheck, too. You momentarily wonder if it would be too much to send her a DM and ask if her husband has any other rich friends that can fund your ideal lazy lifestyle, but then decide against it. What are you, a golddigger? At this point… maybe?

A loud honk shakes you from your thoughts, making you drop your phone. It slips from your hand and slides between the car seats, wedging itself just out of reach. Cursing aloud, you forget about the phone for a moment and angle your rear view mirror, squinting as you try to make out the face of the person in the car behind you—the asshole that just honked their horn at you.

It’s a young man, probably around your age. He’s in some flashy, probably expensive black car that contrasts deeply with your hand-me-down, beat up old ‘97 Toyota. It’s so shiny and new that you’re not even sure what type of car it is. Annoyed, he runs his lithe fingers through his long dark hair and narrows his eyes at you, realizing that you’re finally looking back at him. Go, he mouths angrily at you, honking his horn again. He motions for you to turn around and look at the stoplight. It flashes green as soon as you turn around, making you scoff—what the hell was he on about? He had zero patience.

“Fuckin’ jerk,” you mutter under your breath, as you step on the gas. Your car lurches forward, groaning loudly from the strain as you zoom away from the flashy, annoying stranger. His car disappears from your view as you hit the speed limit, snorting to yourself.

At least you didn’t have to deal with him ever again.

You manage to dig your phone out of the car seat beside you at the next red light, and by then you’re already nearing the campsite. You recognize the tall trees that border the entrance of the camp, their trunks etched with decades of carvings and other graffiti from young, rebellious campers. A smile creeps onto your face as you recall the night that you made your own mark on those trees; you snuck out with a few older campers, feeling extra bold since all the other kids your age were too scared, and carved your initials at the very bottom of the trunk, beside a large knot in the wood. You remember that clearly—you chose that spot so that you’d easily be able to find it if you ever went back.

You never did, however. That was the last year you attended the summer camp before you started taking up guitar lessons instead, which took up your summers from that point on. Still, you had several core memories from this place; important ones that shaped your childhood.

The small parking lot for staff members comes into view as you turn onto the last road, entering the forest. The big trees at the entrance now surround your path, lining the bumpy, cracked asphalt road that you’re driving down. You park your car at the end of the lot, away from most of the other vehicles, and start unloading your things.

It’s almost eerily quiet. You know that none of the campers are here yet, since counselors and other staff members are slated to come a few days before the kids arrive to get things settled first. But it still feels exceptionally still, save for the gentle breeze that’s blowing through the trees and rustling the giant leaves several feet above your head. You look up to look at the shifting foliage for a moment, sunlight peeking through the crevices and winking at you cheerily. It’s definitely beautiful, despite the chill that goes down your spine at the thought of being out here alone.

You gather up an armful of your belongings, including a rather durable desk lamp that you probably didn’t need to bring but wanted to. Wobbling, the load much heavier than you’re used to carrying on a daily basis, you manage to slam your trunk shut, your car groaning from the effort. You can hear another car’s engine starting approach, and you wonder if it’s your co-counselor—you were informed that you’d be getting a bunkmate, with whom you’d be sharing schedules with and sharing campers with. The sound of the car gets louder, and soon you can hear the tires crunching on the asphalt, pebbles scattering across the road. You can’t see over the pile of blankets that are holding your lamp in place in your arms, but when you hear the car door open, you manage to shout out a greeting.

You walk forward a little, but with every step the blankets and lamp start slipping further out of your grasp. “Oh, shit,” you curse, as you feel the load slipping from your arms all at once—you try to grab the lamp, at least, but only succeed in accidentally hitting it with your hand, smashing it against the door of the car that’s parked beside yours.

The car that’s parked beside yours? Hardly registering the dent in the passenger door of the shiny black car, you narrow your eyes as you realize that this asshole parked right beside you when he had almost an entire lot of empty parking spaces to choose from. Scoffing, you pick up your lamp and fling your now dusty blankets over your shoulder. Just as you’re about to walk away, anger bubbling in your stomach, the owner of the car opens his door, stepping out. “Hey!” he shouts at you haughtily.

Your jaw drops. No wonder this stupid car looked so familiar—it’s the jerk from earlier. And he looks pissed; even more pissed off than before.

Gasping as he sees the dent on the door of his car, he whirls around to face you, a scowl etched onto his admittedly pretty features. “What the hell?” he shouts, gesturing wildly at his smashed in door.

“It was an accident,” you say defensively, hugging your lamp and blankets to your chest as you take a step back. You glare daggers at him as he frustratedly runs his fingers through his hair—just like he did when you first saw him, on the road—and curses loudly, turning away as he exhales sharply.

You roll your eyes at his overreaction. Sure, it was annoying to have your car dented by a stranger—that much you understand. But the way he’s breathing hard and clenching his fists at his sides made you cringe, unable to take him seriously. You start to walk away, your shoes crunching on the dirt path as you follow the trail towards your cabin.

“Where are you going? I’m not done talking to you!” the man shouts, running up to walk alongside you. He matches your pace, looking down at the mass of blankets in your arms. “What’re you doing, moving in?”

“I’m a camp counselor, idiot,” you snap, nudging him out of the way as the cabin comes into view. It’s a decent distance away from the other buildings, which you can see faintly between masses of trees and thick summer foliage. The cabin itself is made out of reddish logs, and it looks cozy and classic—the exact cabin you have in your memories from your childhood. You fumble with the key, which is shoved deep in the pocket of your jean shorts, as you attempt to hold all of the blankets in one hand. You only succeed in dropping everything again, making your cheeks heat up with embarrassment as the man behind you clears his throat loudly. You whirl around, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. “And what are you doing here anyways? I pissed you off so bad that you had to follow me?” you say haughtily, as you shove the key into the lock roughly. The heavy wooden door creaks open, revealing a clean, sunny interior with two sets of bunk beds.

“I’m a counselor too, idiot,” he snaps, using your own insult against you.

A pang of fear pierces its way into your stomach—he’s a camp counselor too? Here? It couldn’t be that he’s the one you’re meant to room with, right? There were so many other cabins that counselors could be assigned to.

Whipping out your phone, you pull up your screenshot of your cabin address and your roommate’s information. You thrust the phone in his face, making him squint at the screen and exclaim in disgust at the proximity. “You’re not Hyunjin, are you?” you ask skeptically, looking him up and down.

The man’s face pales, and he clears his throat again—though he sounds much less confident and sure of himself than he did before. “Why do you ask that?” he asks, crossing his arms. “How do you know that?”

“Fuck,” you grumble, sinking to the floor amongst your blankets. You rub your aching temples, a headache from your stressful morning already presenting itself despite the early hour. “Fuck.”

Muttering something under his breath, Hyunjin rifles through his pockets, and you look up as you hear what sounds like crumpling paper. He pulls a wrinkled sheet out of the back pocket of his jeans, trying to smooth it out with his fingers. Narrowing his eyes as he reads over his roommate information, he holds it out to you. “So this is you, then?” he asks, in disbelief. He chuckles bitterly, smoothing his hand over his mouth. “You’ve gotta be kidding.”

You look up at Hyunjin to glare at him, offended by his disgust, but he’s already sauntering over to one of the bunk beds—the one with the bigger window on its side of the room. You spot a dry erase marker—left behind by another camp counselor, likely—and draw a thick black line on the floor, dividing the entire cabin in half. The marker squeaks loudly as you harshly draw the line on the wooden planks, and Hyunjin covers his ears, groaning in exasperation.

“Just stay on your side and we won’t have a problem,” you mutter, capping the marker and throwing it over your shoulder. It clatters to the ground noisily, but you don’t bother to pick it up, or even look back to see where it landed—on your side, or his.

—

At that point, you’d learned two things about Hyunjin, your new roommate and co-counselor; one, he was a douchebag, and two—well—his name was Hyunjin.

The third thing you learned about him was that he had a stupid amount of friends, and you had no clue why they all seemed to have separation anxiety or something. None of them were even working at the camp alongside the two of you either—they just dropped by unannounced (to you) and started helping Hyunjin move his stuff in. The lazy bastard didn’t even lift a single finger as his seven friends moved in his endless boxes of clothing, of paints and oil pastels. (You were now wondering if the cabin was going to permanently smell like an elementary school art classroom.)

“Jesus!” one of them—a small, jumpy guy with round cheeks—shouts, as he spots you sitting in the corner, scrolling through social media mindlessly as you try to stay out of their way. You’d moved there as soon as they filed into the room, hiding from their sight—and the multiple stacks of boxes that wobbled precariously as the seven men marched in and out of the room carelessly, brushing past it and scaring the shit out of you. “How long have you been here?” he asks, setting down a box full of what looked to be hair products. He wipes his sweaty brow, panting slightly.

“The entire time,” you say, shrugging. You try not to let the awkwardness get to you—you’d hoped that they’d all leave before they realized you were still here.

He laughs a little awkwardly, clearly feeling the uncomfortableness of confrontation. His cheeks flush pink as he realizes that they’d all just overlooked you the entire time. He tries to change the subject. “Are you his new roommate, then?” the round cheeked boy asks with a smile, extending his sticky hand to yours. You gingerly take it, not wanting to be rude, and shake it. “You’re not what I expected.”

“Meaning…?” you ask, ducking out of the way as another one of Hyunjin’s friends walks by with a duffel bag that’s spilling clothing items onto the floor with every step.

“Uh… just forget I said anything,” he says quickly, his cheeks flushing even darker as his gaze drops to the floor. Without another word, he presses his lips together and walks out the door, following a few of the others as they leave to presumably bring in even more of Hyunjin’s seemingly endless luggage. How much did a single person need to pack for summer camp? It looked like he packed up his entire apartment and was going to attempt to cram it into a singular, tiny cabin. Sighing exasperatedly, you kick one of Hyunjin’s bags over—it was on your side of the line—and sit down on the edge of your bed. So it seems that Hyunjin already told his massive friend group about what a bitch he thinks you are.

Luckily, his friends don’t come back. He does, about half an hour later, with a beer in hand and his cheeks slightly pink from his tipsiness. He doesn’t apologize for his luggage that’s taking up more than his half of the cabin, nor the lack of warning before your space was invaded by over half a dozen loud young men.

He slams the door behind him, exhaling loudly as he flops onto his own bed, slopping beer all over the front of his shirt. His eyes widen, and he groans loudly, annoyed. “Damn it,” he whines, pulling at the soaked material, “do you see this?” He looks up at you with puppy dog eyes, sending a surprising pang of attraction through your chest—you hadn’t realized just how appealing he was before, when he was pissing you off so bad you couldn’t think straight. His messy bangs fall into his dark, sparkling eyes as he tilts his head to the side slightly, studying you. His white t-shirt sticks to his chest, but he seems to have forgotten about it as his gaze meets yours.

“You don’t like me,” he says suddenly—more of a statement than a question, but he still seemed to be asking for some sort of confirmation or denial.

You hesitate, your words sticking in your throat as you try to respond. He waits patiently, expectantly for you to say something, but you don’t. Your lips stay sealed shut as you stare at him—and your gaze must seem so cold and unfeeling as your lips refuse to move a single centimeter—not even to quirk upwards into a slight smile to show him that you like him, just a tiny bit. Even if he pissed you off today. Even if you pissed him off today.

It’s more out of embarrassment than anything, as Hyunjin narrows his eyes at your silence. It’s sobering—he can feel his mind clearing immediately, the slight tipsiness from the beer gone in a flash. His heart pounds rapidly in his chest and his cheeks redden as he tries to retract the flirty tone, the hope laced in his voice as he secretly longed for you to deny it; that you do like him, that you don’t hate him and you want to get to know him better—anything. “The feeling’s mutual, then,” he spits, knocking his beer onto the ground as he storms out of the cabin, slamming the door before you have the chance to fully register what’s happening.

The tiny bit of “like” disappears at his emotional outburst, your expression souring as you’re left alone in the cluttered room. “You didn’t even give me a chance to answer, dickhead,” you mutter under your breath.

Never has an interaction with someone gone so wrong for you before. Never have there been so many misunderstandings, and so many mistakes.

It’s never been this hard to get someone to like you.

Meanwhile, Hyunjin storms off, meeting up with a few other counselors and camp staff members, that were just about to head out to get some firewood. Similar thoughts stew in his mind as he takes out his emotions on the logs of pre-cut wood, his ax swinging in the air and glinting in the late afternoon sunlight.

Yeah, he thought you were stupid for missing the green light because you were on your phone. Yeah, he was pissed that you dented his car. And yeah—he was really embarrassed that you didn’t answer him when he teasingly, flirtily asked if you really hated him—solidifying, in his mind, the idea that it’s true.

He swings the ax down again, grunting loudly as he chops another piece of wood in half. He pants, putting his weight onto the ax and leaning forward as he feels sweat dripping down the back of his neck. A comforting hand places itself on his back, making him look up—it’s another counselor, smiling kindly at him.

“I think we can head back now. We have more than enough for tonight,” they say, gesturing towards the large pile of wood—most of which came from Hyunjin’s emotional outburst. Slightly embarrassed, Hyunjin wipes the sweat from his brow and nods, pulling the ax out of the ground and following the group back to the campsite.

The rest of the counselors and staff that didn’t go to chop wood are now sitting outside, around the empty, unlit fire pit. Only a few thin logs and sticks are tossed in haphazardly, and one of the counselors that was chopping wood alongside Hyunjin sighs loudly and goes to fix it.

Hyunjin’s gaze drifts around the circle of people, searching for you. He sees you, sitting directly opposite him on the other side of the fire pit. You’re sitting with another counselor, with whom you seem to be making polite conversation with. It sends a pang of hurt through his body, a stab of regret. If he hadn’t been so hasty, maybe he could’ve been the one sitting next to you and getting to know you better.

He settles for chatting with a few people that were chopping wood with him and roasting a few marshmallows to act like he’s not paying attention to you—though he definitely is. He swallows hard as he watches the way your face lights up when you laugh, and how pretty you look by the firelight. Your eyes sparkle as you talk to the person sitting beside you, speaking excitedly and animatedly about something—and Hyunjin finds that he longs to know. There’s something intoxicating about the atmosphere—it makes him dizzy with hope, and hopeful for something more.

Marshmallow after marshmallow catches on fire as he watches you out of the corner of his eye, trying to pick up on any bit of conversation from across the loudly crackling fire. He pretends that he likes them burnt, loudly laughing it off when another counselor pipes up that he seems distracted.

“You’re funny,” he says dryly, before throwing his stick into the fire pit and walking back to the cabin that he shares with you.

—

He claimed that the smoke made his eyes hurt, and it was making him cough too. Even though you were watching him the whole time, and he didn’t cough once. Unless you count the two times he choked on burnt marshmallows, spitting the charred remains into the grass beside him as he insisted that he liked them that way.

The empty spot glares at you from across the fire, taunting you. Was it you that made him leave?

He was certainly mad earlier, when you failed to respond to his teasing. In all fairness, you intended to—it just didn’t happen. But that doesn’t ease your mind enough as you unhappily chew your own perfectly golden brown marshmallow, watching the remains of Hyunjin’s marshmallow stick crackling and burning in the fire.

“I’m gonna head in too. I still have a lot to unpack,” you lie to the person sitting beside you, who nods and hardly registers your departure before getting engrossed in another conversation with someone else.

Tossing your own stick into the fire as well, you make your way back to the cabin you share with Hyunjin. A small lantern hangs right outside the front door, lighting your way as you carefully walk up the creaky wooden stairs.

You find that—unsurprisingly—it’s much easier to unlock the door when your arms aren’t full of blankets and a stupidly heavy lamp. You enter the cabin, and Hyunjin looks up from where he’s sitting; propped up against the headboard of his bottom bunk bed. His expression is unchanging as he briefly looks at you and then looks back down at the notebook in his lap. As you peer over, trying to be unsuspicious, you see a light sketch of what looks like the forest bordering the campsite.

“That’s nice,” you say, clearing your throat as you lock the door behind you and sit down on your own bed, facing him. He looks up at you again, his eyes wide with surprise, before he turns the sketchbook towards you, a slight grin creeping onto his face.

“Thanks,” he says carefully, as he puts the sketchbook aside. He exhales sharply and clasps his hands together as he looks over at you. “And sorry about earlier. I was kinda drunk and I thought you were making fun of me, so I bailed.” He forces out a sheepish chuckle, his cheeks burning with embarrassment once again. “If it makes you feel any better, I ended up chopping firewood and almost cut off my own hand a few times.”

“Probably not the best idea to chop wood when you’re ‘kinda drunk,’” you laugh softly, as you hug your knees to your chest. Hyunjin chuckles softly along with you, feeling more at ease now. “I’m sorry too. For being an idiot on the road and for denting your car. I’ll pay for it. Promise.” You hold up your pinky—jokingly—as if you were going to make a literal pinky promise with him.

Much to your surprise, he smiles goofily and gets out of bed, stepping over the line on the middle of the floor. He leans over and links his pinky with yours, gently shaking it as he meets your gaze and smiles at you, his eyes squinting cutely.

He’s so close that you can feel his breath on your skin as he leans close, his hand large and warm against yours. You can see a knobby callous on his fourth finger, likely from the way he holds his pencil as he draws. Graphite and what looks to be watercolor paints stain his skin lightly, as if soap weren’t enough to rid the evidence of his artistry—as if it were graphite and watercolor that ran through his veins instead of blood, and it was just natural for it to be there regardless. His fingernails are clean, and kept incongruously short—another artistic precaution, you guess?

Before you can make any more observations, his touch leaves as soon as it comes, and he pulls away, stepping back over the line and sitting on the edge of his bed, suddenly much too far away from you. It’s odd—you only spent perhaps ten seconds in such close proximity to him, yet you think that if you don’t get it again you might die. Is life worth living if you can’t be that close to living artwork itself?

Despite the longing that makes your limbs twitch with holding back, you don’t say anything more to Hyunjin, and he doesn’t say anything more to you. He unpacks his things silently as you shuffle around the cabin, getting ready for bed. By the time the lights are out, the entire campsite is completely silent. The fire died out ages ago; the crackling and popping of the wood burning has long since ceased, and the smell of smoke is prominent in the air—though perhaps your wide-open windows might be contributing to that as well. But what else can you do when it’s disgustingly hot, and you don’t have any sort of air conditioning?

A cool, gentle night breeze blows through the air, disturbing the loose papers on Hyunjin’s nightstand and making a soft rustling sound.

Restless, you turn over in bed, sighing—only to look straight into Hyunjin’s dark, sparkling orbs as he stares right back at you, his gaze already fixated on your form.

You hold back a gasp, pressing your lips together tightly as your grip on your blanket grows clammy. After a few moments of painful silence and prolonged eye contact, Hyunjin sits up in bed, ducking under the top bunk as he moves to the edge of the mattress, his blanket slipping from his body.

You’ve lost count of the things you’ve learned about Hyunjin at this point, but you learn another thing here.

He sleeps naked.

You have to stifle another gasp as the blanket threatens to slip down further, exposing him completely, but he places a hand over it just as it exposes his happy trail. He chuckles a little awkwardly, his fingers tangling in the blanket as he pulls it up further. “Sorry,” he says, sucking in a harsh breath through his teeth.

You’re speechless again, but this time you force yourself to do something even if you can’t say anything. The last thing you want is another misunderstanding, another chance for this terribly beautiful man to slip through your fingers.

Hyunjin has to swallow back a groan as he watches you come over to him, your gaze washing over him in a way that makes him feel so desired, so wanted. He can’t help but let go of the blanket, letting it slip to the ground and expose his hardening cock, which twitches with anticipation as you sink to your knees between his legs. Hyunjin licks his lips, his cheeks flushing as he meets your gaze. Your hands smooth over his thighs before you push them apart a little more, and before he can say anything one of your hands has made its way to his cock, wrapping around the base of it and stroking gently, sending waves of pleasure through his body. He throws his head back and moans softly, his abs tensing as you rub your thumb over his weeping slit, giggling softly at the way his hips buck up harshly.

He looks down at you as you lean closer, running your hot tongue along his balls and making him whimper. His cock pulses in your hand as you gently suck one of his balls into your mouth, feeling the slight weight of it on your tongue as you massage it carefully. Hyunjin’s fingers come down to tangle in your hair as he gasps loudly, more precum leaking from his tip as you use your hand to stroke his length while you tongue his balls.

You remove your mouth with a soft moan, your tongue lolling out as you lick up his tight balls and up the underside of his cock. His precum is salty, filmy on your tongue as you lick it up before taking the head of his cock into your mouth, suckling hard and eliciting a choked groan as his hips stutter.

“I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that,” he gasps, gently pulling you off of his cock as he shudders, his orgasm fading as his cock twitches, craving more stimulation. “I wanna fuck you,” he insists, when you try to squirm out of his grasp to lick at his cock again. He only tightens his grip on you, staring into your eyes for a moment before gently laying you down on his bottom bunk bed, ducking back underneath to crawl on top of you.

His touch is eager but not rough as he helps you out of your clothes, throwing them onto the floor carelessly. His eyes settle on your bare skin with every piece of clothing that you remove until you’re completely nude, and he runs his hands up and down your sides appreciatively. “You’re gorgeous,” he murmurs, biting his plush lower lip as he stares at your body for a few moments more, before looking back up into your eyes. His gaze is lustful, full of desire—yet there’s something a little mournful too, a glimmer of hope.

It makes you want to kiss him, more than anything. Your lips crash onto his, but he was ready—it’s like he was wanting it too. He kisses you back eagerly, his tongue licking into your mouth as his soft lips engulf yours. His hands hesitantly rest on your hips, his touch light as a feather, before you place your hands over his and move them up to your breasts. He moans into the kiss, gently squeezing your tits in his hands and rubbing his calloused thumbs over your hardening nipples, making you groan. You can feel his cock rubbing against your inner thigh as he bucks his hips, hissing at the slight friction on his sensitive length.

He slides one of his hands down your curves, his fingers dancing lightly across your skin as he reaches between your legs. Shakily, you part your legs for him more as he glides his digits through your silky folds, groaning quietly as he feels your wetness. “Maybe all that arguing was like foreplay to you,” he says smugly, earning him a gentle smack to the arm from you as you protest.

“Then I can definitely say the same about you,” you retort, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer. His length slides over your soaking pussy, making both of you groan again.

“If I admit it, can I fuck you already?” he asks, his tone light and teasing. He starts to grind his cock against your weeping slit, obscene slick noises emanating around the cabin. You can’t help but let out a strangled moan as the head of his cock slides over your clit, making your thighs twitch uncontrollably.

“Yes, please,” you gasp, not caring any more—all you wanted was him to fuck you.

A cocky smile spreads across his face, but before you can make fun of him for it he slides himself into you, eliciting shaky moans from the both of you.

It burns slightly; it’s been a while since you’ve hooked up with anyone, so naturally you’re once again not used to the feeling. The pain comes with pleasure, however, and you can’t ignore the deep thrum of pleasure that’s starting to pool in your stomach, your cunt pulsing around Hyunjin’s length and making him exhale shakily as he tries to hold still so that you can adjust to his size.

He reaches down, his thumb slicking over your clit gently as he pushes more of his length into your tight warmth, until he bottoms out completely with a pleasured sigh.

“So full…” you whimper, squirming underneath Hyunjin as he hovers over you, his warm breath tickling your skin as his lips ghost over your neck.

“That’s right, baby,” he coos, as he pulls out all the way, agonizingly slow—before thrusting back in again all at once, his hips smacking against yours. The sound of skin against skin echoes around the room as he sets a deep, steady pace, making you whimper and cry out with each languid, carefully angled thrust. “So full of my cock…”

He chuckles as you curse under your breath, a hint of a whine in your whispers that he picks up on easily. He starts to rub your clit faster, applying more pressure to the sensitive little nub with his thumb. Your wetness coats your clit, his fingers, his cock, as he fucks into you more desperately now, the mere sight of your tight cunt and the pleasured expression on your face starting to edge him closer to his inevitable orgasm.

His breathing is ragged now, his thrusts more sloppy and less rhythmic as he moans and buries his face in your neck once more, pressing kisses to your skin and nipping gently. “So close,” he gasps, his teeth sinking into the sensitive skin near your collarbone, “so fucking close…”

With a choked moan, he pulls out of you just as thick ropes of cum erupt from his tip, landing across your tits and stomach. He strokes himself through his orgasm, groaning loudly as more creamy semen drips from his slit, leaking over his fingers. The sight makes your pussy throb with need; you still haven’t finished, and you’re a little pissed off—you were getting quite close, before he finished.

Hyunjin notices your expression as his orgasm fades and he removes his hand from his length, panting softly.

“I didn’t forget about you,” he says tenderly, winking at you before pressing a gentle kiss to your thigh. He moves down, kissing and nibbling at your soft skin on both thighs before he reaches your cunt. With a smile, he reaches down to spread your lips with his fingers, chuckling as you whine with embarrassment, heat rising to your face. “I promised I’d make you feel good,” he says, pressing a sloppy kiss to your cunt. “And I’m gonna.”

He licks a fat, wide stripe up your pussy, groaning as he tastes your musky wetness on his tongue. He laps at your slit for a moment, making your thighs start to jump and twitch as you grasp at the sheets beneath you. The feeling of his tongue pressing ever so slightly against your hole, the teasing… it makes you leak even more against his lips, which he eagerly licks up again. His hands grab your twitching thighs, holding them apart as he devours your pussy.

Moaning loudly as he wraps his plush lips around your clit and sucks, you reach down to tangle your fingers in his messy dark locks, tugging his face closer to your soaking pussy as he sucks on and licks your swollen clit. He complies eagerly, burying his face closer to your cunt—his nose bumps against your clit as he messily laps at your slit, his tongue slipping into your tight hole.

It’s more than enough to push you over the edge, your orgasm washing over you—it’s so intense that your mind nearly goes blank, your limbs stiffen and seize as you whimper loudly, pulling Hyunjin ever-closer as your hand is still buried in his dark, tangled locks.

He licks at your pussy through your orgasm, and once the last few waves of pleasure fade from your body he kisses back up your stomach, up your chest and collarbone, until he reaches your lips. This kiss is different from the other ones; it’s much more tender and sweet, much less hungry and full of desire.

“Will you sleep here with me tonight?” he asks, pouting as he lays beside you, pulling the blanket over the two of you. He wraps his arms around you tightly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“In your bunk bed instead of mine? No way. There’s way too many beds in here for two people, might as well take advantage of it,” you tease lightly, wiggling in his arms. He laughs softly, squeezing you tighter—he really wanted you to stay.

“Please?” he begs, tickling you and making you squeal as his lithe fingers prod at your sensitive sides. “Please stay with me?”

You never really wanted to leave anyways.

“I’ll stay with you as long as you want,” you say, pretending to finally give in, pressing a kiss to his cheek as you loosely drape your arms around his neck.

“Just until you piss me off again by doing something stupid,” he teases, turning your face ever so slightly so that he can kiss your lips, instead of you kissing his cheek again.

You melt into the kiss so quickly, so consumed by Hyunjin and his full lips that you hardly register what he said—until you realize. “Hey!” you scowl against his lips, as he bursts into peals of soft, melodic laughter.

please consider reblogging and/or leaving a few kind words if you enjoyed this fic :) tumblr posts revolve around reblogs, and i'd appreciate the gesture!!

#kflixnet #k-labels #k-vanity #straykidsland #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin smut #skz x reader #skz smut #hyunjin x you #hyunjin x y/n #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #skz x you #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin fanfic

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captain-hawks · 3 months

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you want to blame it on the sheer amount of people packed into mattsun’s small, tenth floor apartment—the way it’s suddenly difficult to breathe.

at least that’s what you mutter to makki as you excuse yourself and head toward the balcony’s reprieve, your drink forgotten on the coffee table as you step out into the frigid winter air.

but fuck if the familiar, warm scent of iwaizumi’s cologne doesn’t invade your nostrils a moment later anyway, something you’re beyond embarrassed to recognize with your eyes closed.

you don’t turn around as the sliding door clicks shut, eyes trained on some unremarkable landmark in the distance that you can’t quite make out in the darkness. and as he comes to stand beside you, forearms leaning on the metal handrail inches away from your own, you’re not sure if the slight shiver that wracks its way down your spine is from the flakes of snow that have begun to settle on your bare arms or his maddening proximity.

you can’t fucking stand it—this unceremonious collapse of your lungs in his presence, the blistering heat that prickles down your neck and closes tightly around your throat.

something soft and warm settles around your shoulders, and your throat goes dry as the zipper of his jacket brushes against your neck.

“where’s your girlfriend?” you ask, hoping the question doesn’t sound as pathetic as you feel.

it’s funny how these things work—you spent years trying to get over your silly high school crush, only for all of it to come crashing back down in your lap gathered at the bar with friends celebrating his return to japan after uni.

it’s funny—the way you could hardly remember the name of the guy you were casually seeing in that moment as you watched iwaizumi walk in with a pretty girl clutching his elbow.

iwa laughs quietly, and it’s a little rough, a bit self-deprecating. “where’s your boyfriend?”

it’s funny—the odd curve of his tone on the last word.

“don’t have one,” you reply, casting him a sideways glance, his expression unreadable.

“she told me she wanted to move to japan with me,” he says carefully, exhaling a cloud of warm air as his gaze sweeps to the skyline.

your heart sinks.

“and?”

“and i told her i wanted to break up.”

you whip around to face him, convinced you heard him wrong. “you what?”

he reaches across the space between your bodies, hands grasping the bottom edges of the jacket and zipping it up to your chin (and it’s so goddamn reminiscent of the way he used to chide you for not dressing properly on the walk to school that you sway a little on your feet).

you can’t help the way you nudge his foot in return just like you always used to—it’s muscle memory, more than anything else.

and yet you’re not anticipating the way he still follows up in kind, hooking a foot around the back of your ankle, muttering about your shit choice of shoes in the dead of winter. while it’s hardly a tap, it’s enough to make you take a step forward in surprise as the lines between the past and present begin to blur, stumbling slightly.

two hands at your waist steady you, and despite the layers between his palms and your hips, your nerve endings ignite.

“coming home made me realize that even moving to the other side of the world wouldn’t stop me from wondering,” he says softly, snowflakes accumulating in his mussed brown hair.

“wondering what, iwaizumi?”

he doesn’t answer you for a moment, just stares at you with an intensity that makes you briefly question the physics of spontaneous combustion.

“what it’d be like to hear you call me by my name for once,” he murmurs. “what it’d be like to do this, if you’d let me.” carefully, he traces the curve of your bottom lip, his touch feather-light.

your legs wobble, just a little, and iwaizumi’s left hip and thigh press up against you. it’s a weather phenomenon, the way everything goes quiet during snow fall—but it’d all be drowned out either way right now against the erratic thrumming behind your ribcage.

“i missed you, hajime,” you whisper, the syllables heavy on your tongue—they’re at odds with this dizzy lightness in your chest.

his eyes fall shut for a beat, lips curving upward in a faint smile, his fingers twitching subtly at your waist.

you begin to lean forward, and there’s a quiet sigh of relief that falls from his lips before he cups your face in both of his hands, his mouth crashing into yours.

#haikyuu #hajime iwaizumi #iwaizumi hajime #hajime iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #dee writes #rambling: h. iwaizumi

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hansensgirl · 10 months

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☕️ — 𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲, 𝐎𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐀𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧

summary. — it’s the time of year to be with the one who loves you, even if you don’t know it yet.

pairing. | dark!Steve Rogers x fem!reader.

warnings. | NON/DUBCON, dark themes, drugging, sleeping beauty au (but changed), kidnapping, manipulation, obsession, pet names (petal, baby), smut, kissing, choking, praise, dirty talk, rough sex, creampie kink, use of spit as lube, it’s winter, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!

word count. | 4.4k

author's note. | this is a birthday fic for the amazing @xsapphirescrollsx. happy birthday sweetie! you have been my biggest inspiration since i joined tumblr. your fics are some of the best, and you are such a kind and talented person. i'm so sorry i took so long to post this! i hope you like it, darling. thank you @cuttlefjsh for beta-ing. please enjoy this fic! taglist: @hansensfics. MINORS DNI! 18+ ONLY

In the last three years, the winters have been more bleak than bitter. What once used to be frostbite and fluffy snow is now dry air and slush-filled shoes. But up here, on this mountain, it’s more like a snow globe than anything else. One where the white particles won’t stop swirling, and the wind around you makes everything spin.

“Heya, Stevie,” you hum from your spot behind the wooden table. The bell of the door rings when he enters, a full six feet and two inches that you don’t even have to see to know it’s him. You’re hunched over your latest project—hemming the raw edge of some lady’s red scarf. “Hiya, petal,” he sheepishly greets.

“Got something for me? It better be an ugly Christmas sweater,” you joke, pushing the sharp tip of the needle through the fabric, turning it, and then repeating the motion. “Ah, I wish. It’s just one of the handkerchiefs my mom bought me,” Steve starts, inching closer to your workstation.

He ignores the other people there, the ones waiting for their things and the others repairing or creating said things.

“Why don’t you just bring them all, Stevie? I can repair them in one go, and you won’t have to come down here so much,” you question, knotting the end of the thread and biting the excess off with your tooth. Steve lives up in the mountains, and everyone is in awe of him for it.

Long journeys that only he can handle—he’s a god in their eyes. But to you, he’s just shy Stevie, trying to keep an ever-fading memory intact.

“I like coming down here as much as I can,” he sheepishly admits, ducking away from you. His gaze flits elsewhere, to the mannequin with no arms. “Ah, I see. You enjoy the exercise?” you question, not looking up at him still. You examine your work well done.

“Eh… No, not really. I mean—I do love exercise, but that’s not why I like coming by,” he stammers, hoping you don’t force him to spell it out. Steve is as red as the roses he spies in a vase. Where did those come from? “Really? Pray tell,” you smile, standing up and handing the scarf over to a much older woman.

You turn back around and settle into your cushioned chair, with Steve following your every step. It’s funny, though. His one step is about two strides from you.

“You,” he simply says, as if it’s something obvious that you haven’t quite picked up yet. You snort, admiring his cuteness, and begin to sort out what to do with his mother’s handkerchief. A few moments of silence pass, and Steve says your name. “Mmm?” you hum.

“I like seeing you. I love seeing you,” he emphasizes, and you beam at him, amused. “I love seeing you, too, Stevie. You always put a smile on my face,” you tell him, and his grin falters. It picks up again.

His teeth are nearly pearl-white, straight but not off-putting. Steve is a handsome man—no one can deny that. The gossipers wonder why his ex-girlfriend suddenly left the town, and the college-aged women bat their eyelashes at him.

When Steve visits the market or decidedly takes a stroll, everyone behaves as if there are standards to be met and sweet, simpleton Stevie is a king that’s hard to please. But they don’t know the man who still misses his strong mother or the man who tries his hardest to hold onto the past as it attempts to slip through his fingers.

“Hey, Steve?” you call out, even though you know he’s still standing before you. “Yeah?” he eagerly, loudly replies. “This one’s gonna take me some to get done. You can get your other errands done in the meantime,” you tell him.

She isn’t rejecting you, sweetie. She’s just playing hard to get. It’s what your father and I did…

The reassuring voice of Steve’s mother is right in his ear, her hand smoothing over his golden hair. He can practically feel her there—right next to him, searching for the grocery list as she gives him some of life’s best advice.

He smiles to himself, lips pressing together yet stretched out. Truth be told, Steve does not have anything he needs to do. He convinced James to deliver some groceries a week ago, as he was too busy sorting through Sarah’s belongings.

But he’ll do anything you ask of him. You’re so beautiful and intelligent, the woman he’s always yearned for without realizing.

It’s daily easy to put up a farce—fake smile, ingenuine gleaming eyes. Every woman who passes by Steve swoons, unlike how it was years ago. When he was bullied for things out of his control. No woman wanted him then, but now they all do. In his mind, he sort of scoffs. They don’t hold a candle to you—his dream girl.

“Hey, Steve!” a familiar voice calls out, capturing the blond’s attention. He quickly pinpoints where it’s coming from despite the burning of his ears. The temperature has dropped overnight, and Steve worries you aren’t dressed warm enough to withstand the frigidness.

Natasha stands by a French-style door, cheeks almost as red as her hair. She waves to Steve before making a come-hither motion with her hand, beckoning her friend. He eagerly makes his way over to her before breaking out in a light jog to speed things up.

“How’s it been?” Natasha asks, enveloping Steve in a hug. “Great, actually,” he tells her, much to her surprise.

It’s unlike Steve to lie about how he feels, especially at such a vulnerable moment in his life. And it’s so odd that she cannot sense an ounce of fiction in his words. “Really?” she questions, rubbing his back as usual before pulling away. “Yeah… Well, it’s been a bit hard, but…” he trails off, cheeks flushing.

“But?” Natasha prompts, ushering him into her store. It’s a hidden gem in the county but constantly raved about throughout town. Whatever other shops don’t have, she does—even the most unlikely of things.

“I… Well, there’s this girl,” Steve starts, breaking out in a breathy chuckle as Natasha gawks at him. “A girl, huh?” she laughs, mindlessly shifting bottles on a shelf that’s just been organized. “Yeah, a girl. Gosh, Nat, she’s the best. I can already see her in a wedding dress,” he expresses.

“She must be a catch. She’s got you rhyming and wanting to get married,” Natasha jests, happy to see her once-wilted friend now bloom. The two friends giggle in tandem before sighing deeply. “Well, if I’m being completely honest, she’s also got me staying up way too late at night. I can barely get an hour these days.” Steve’s confession has Natasha cooing at him. “That’s no good. Have you gone to the doctor? Bruce may be busy, but he could connect you to Stephen,” she tries, swiping barely visible dust off a surface. “Nah, it’s not that bad,” he shrugs, picking up a eucalyptus candle.

“Don’t pretend it’s nothing, Stevie. Especially not with me,” Natasha warns, reaching up to a shelf mounted on the wall. She gently grabs a small bottle of green liquid with vines decorating it. “Here, take this,” she urges, pressing it into his palm.

“Nat, I can’t–” he starts, attempting to push it back towards his friend. The redhead shakes her head and takes his other hand, bringing the two together to cover the bottle entirely. “You will, okay? It’s just something that’ll help you. Put just a drop in some tea or coffee, and you’ll be out like a light.”

The blond nods his head, soaking in all the information. “But only one teeny, tiny drop, Steve. A little goes a long way. Too much will make you sleep for longer than you’d like.”

“As in death?”

“No, no. Not death. It’ll be like a coma—knocked out for a few days. Only one small drop.”

The words echo in his mind as he steps out of Natasha’s store. They follow him as he returns to Snowy Stitches, and you wave him over to your station. They're barely present in his head as you speak and hand the handkerchief back to him. But they’re louder than ever when he makes a pot of hot chocolate to give you.

Steve, perhaps your most loyal customer, visits again the next day. It’s not very busy on Tuesdays, especially not towards the end of your shift. It’s dark outside, and the streetlights illuminate the sidewalks enough for you to recognize a few passersby.

You find yourself repairing your own clothes while your coworkers chat. You’re not startled when the blond says your name, two cups of something in his hands.

“Hi,” you hum, glancing up at him and pausing your movements. “How are you?” he asks you, seemingly giddy with how he can’t stop moving. “I’m good, really tired, though,” you admit. “How are you?”

“I’m great, actually,” Steve tells you. “Yeah?” He’s got a wide grin on his face, and you can’t help but mirror it. “Yeah… What’s that?” you question, pointing to the cups he holds. “Oh, I, uh, I brought them. I made them,” he starts, nervous.

You raise your eyebrows, urging him to continue. “Well, I didn’t make the cups, obviously. I made hot chocolate. This is for you,” he tells you, placing the one in his left hand on your desk. “Oh, Steve. Thank you so much! You’re the sweetest.” With a wide grin, you take a sip of the sweet beverage. It glides down your throat and leaves your taste buds begging for more. It’s got a peppermint aftertaste that mixes perfectly with the overall chocolate flavour. You’ve never had anything like it before.

“Wow… Steve, this is delicious. Did you make it yourself?” you ask before going back in for another sip. “Yep. It’s a special recipe of mine,” he tells you, smiling as he watches you grow fond of his gift.

“Why’s it special?” you finally say, pulling the cup away from your face. You feel like a fool for not pacing yourself. But the amusement on Steve’s face quells your embarrassment. “S’a secret ingredient. I can’t say.”

“Well, whatever it is must be magical. Really. You should sell some of this, Steve. I’ve never had anything this good,” you admit.

“You flatter me. Well, enjoy the rest. I’ll make sure to give you another batch next time,” he oddly says. Steve has always found some way to stick around longer than necessary. You don’t think much of this, though. Maybe he has somewhere to be.

“Yes, please. Have a good night, Steve,” you bid, and he nods at you as he walks out.

A little over twenty minutes have passed, and it’s time for you to head home. You bundle up for the unforgiving cold you’ve been dreading and say goodbye to your last two coworkers there.

They’re elderly women who have retired but can’t stand the boredom, so they decided to come up to your snowy hometown and open an alterations store. You’ve been working here longer than either of you can remember.

Steve watches as you do the last button on your coat and push the door open.

He’s been across the street the entire time—hidden under the shelter of Natasha’s store. His view was as clear as day, and he was so worried you’d catch him smiling once he saw you finish every last drop of the hot chocolate.

The streets cleared out as it grew darker and closer to the end of your workday. He was more than grateful for this.

No one to catch him. No one to disturb his work.

Steve trails behind you silently, years of undercover work and dangerous missions coming into use after all.

He notes the way you start to stagger, how you lean on the nearest wall or tree to steady yourself. He almost feels bad for smiling—but he just can’t help it. He’s wanted you for so long—and now you’re here, in his trap, waiting for him to catch you like the perfect prey.

Your eyelids feel heavy as you try your hardest to get home. Your head swings, and your legs feel like they can’t work as they should. Panic sets deep into your bones as the cold nips at your skin, creating an unsavoury feeling you just want to disappear.

It’s hard to think straight as your thoughts turn into a blur of words and nonsense. You slide down on the brick wall to the old blacksmith store, where a man named Thor usually resides. But it’s winter, and he always escapes the cold weather by heading to some beautiful island.

Everything feels surreal—like you’re half asleep and waiting for dreamland to pull you back in. You’re not sure why this is happening. Is it fatigue? Were you running a temperature without realizing it? Did you eat anything? Nothing comes to mind.

“Oh, baby…” a familiar voice croons behind you as a large, warm body joins you on the wet ground. “St– Steve? Is that you?” you slur through your stupor, making out his blond hair and handsome face. “Shh, don’t worry about that,” he reassures, though his overly calm voice does little to quell your worries.

He smoothes a large hand over your hair continuously, holding your body up with his other arm. He rocks you like a baby—like he’s putting you to sleep. It’s terribly bizarre, but you can’t fight it.

Not when you’re sound asleep, anyway.

Your limbs feel heavy—like they’re coated in molasses and held down by something too strong. Blankets keep you warm, but they’re too fluffy to be yours. Remnants of an inexplicable dream taunt you—one of an ordinary day at work with a grim ending.

You try to piece each fragment together and force your eyes to open. You’re met with a bright view from a window—and you know immediately that this isn’t your home.

In a frenzy, you whip your head around to take in your surroundings. The room is dark and grey, reminding you of some evil castle in a movie you watched as a child. None of the items are yours—so then why are you here? How did you end up in this place? Panic takes hold, and you push the blankets off your body, groaning at the immediate chill that takes over your body. You know better than to not dress warm for bed. But you’ve got a white nightgown on, something straight out of a time long before yours, yet with a modern, revealing flip to it.

“Good morning,” a familiar voice calls behind the wooden, bolted door. You rush to it and slam your hands on the material when your head starts to spin. You’re surprised you made it that far. “How did you sleep, petal?” Steve says, and the realization makes your stomach turn in dread.

“St– Steve?!” you incredulously ask, horror painting your features. “Yeah?” he answers, closer than you expected.

You don’t respond to him. Instead, you try your best to think positively. Maybe something happened to you, and Steve saved you. It’s the most plausible explanation and the one that regulates your breathing. You stick to it, turning it over in your mind and repeating this gentler idea.

“I’m coming in,” he warns, and you involuntarily take a step back. The door creaks loudly as Steve opens it, but the clanging of metal bolts and locks is even louder. “Morning!” he cheers, shutting it behind him.

His large frame blocks your view—you can’t even watch him seal your fate.

“Mo– Morning, Steve…” you start, looking at the tray he holds. It’s metal and quite fancy. On it are plates of breakfast foods that are your favourite, including two cups of coffee. “Uh…” you start, so many questions ready for him, but they all fizzle into nothing on the tip of your tongue.

“Hungry? I’m sure you are. I got you some coffee, too. But if you prefer tea, I’ll be happy to oblige,” he rambles, setting the tray on the bedside table. “No, coffee’s fine. What happened to me? How did I get here?” you question, getting straight to the point.

Steve stands up straight, and it’s only then that you realize just how large he is. He towers over you with ease.

“Ah, nothing you need to stress about, don’t worry. You’re home now, baby,” he smiles, sitting on the bed and patting the spot beside him. “Hah, good one. Was there a snowstorm?” you wonder, not sure why you can’t remember anything. “Nope.”

He hands you a plate, and you note how his body radiates plenty of warmth. No wonder there’s no heating here.

“Eat up, buttercup,” he playfully rhymes, but you don’t have an appetite.

A red mug. An empty, dark street. A brick wall. Steve holding you against his body. The hot chocolate.

“Did you drug me, Steve? Did you drug and kidnap me?” you accuse, standing up. But before you can get far, he grabs you by your wrist and pulls you into his lap. “There we are. Of course, I did, baby.”

Steve’s bluntness is horrifying. But shock has you paralyzed, and you don’t think to fight him. “Ma always taught me to take what’s mine, especially when a girl’s playin’ hard to get. It was cute at first, but I grew sick of it,” he seethes, eyes darker than you’re used to.

“You should eat your food before it gets cold. I made your favourite pancakes, and I’d hate to see them go to waste,” he follows, his tone lightening as a small smile spreads across his face. “I’m not really hungry, St– Steve. But thank you for the food,” you choke out, letting his previous words sink in.

Playing hard to get.

An idea strikes you. You’ve always been a creative and quick thinker. It’s one of the qualities Steve admires most about you. “How about we save this for a date later tonight? Or maybe even tomorrow? We can go to my place instead,” you offer, feigning excitement.

He doesn’t even take a moment to think about your offer. “Hmm… Well, why should I wait, petal? Hm? When you’re right here with me already?” he grins.

Steve’s large, smooth hands grab onto your waist, ruffling the fabric of the nightgown you realize he changed you into. His fingers dig into your skin, making you wince from the pain. He shushes you and lays back against the bed, groping at any amount of skin he can reach.

Against your will, you can feel your skin getting warmer and your pussy getting wet. It shouldn’t be this easy to get you worked up—but it is, and you curse yourself for it. “You look gorgeous in white, baby,” he murmurs, pulling you down so your chest touches his. “But you look much better with nothing on,” he whispers.

Steve grabs onto the lace-embellished straps of your dress, and with ease, he pulls at them until they snap. The front of your gown falls, and your bare breasts are exposed, nipples pebbling in the cold air.

“I’ve dreamed about this moment forever,” he breathlessly says, pulling the rest of the dress off your body until you’re completely naked. You can feel the hardness of his cock through his jeans, and his size frightens you. You’ve never slept with anyone that big. “I can’t wait to feel you wrapped around me, baby.”

Steve’s hand comes up to the back of your head, and he forces you into a kiss. It’s heated and literally breathtaking. His soft lips align with yours, and there’s a mix of his tongue caressing your mouth, but he pulls away sooner than you expect.

“Can’t get carried away—I’m usually more of a romantic, but you’re too gorgeous for me to resist,” Steve sheepishly admits, like some sort of lover. Like he didn’t drug and kidnap you. “Steve, I don’t want this. Please, just let me go. I won’t tell anyone. We can still go out! Please, just let me leave.”

He hums as he ignores your words, reaching down to where your core rests on his groin, and he undoes his belt. He follows this action by pulling down his zipper and freeing his aching dick from its confines. Tears sting your eyes, but you don’t make any attempts to fight him, fearing his strength and what he might do if you push him too far.

“I bet you feel like heaven, dontcha, honey? Enough to make a man crazy,” Steve grins, lifting you and dragging the fat tip of his cock through your folds. You’re wet, but it certainly isn’t enough to help with the incoming intrusion. The blond beneath you knows this, and so he spits into his palm and brings his damp fingers down to your cunt.

The touch makes you flinch. Perhaps it’s the filth or the fact that you don’t want him near you at all, yet here you are. “There we go. I’ll make sure to make a mess of this pussy later, petal,” Steve promises, and you involuntarily clench at his words.

Dirty thoughts run through your mind, and you can’t help but let out a whimper when he grinds his cock into your drooling hole. His width stretches your inner walls, the discomfort delicious despite the unfamiliar feeling of being full.

“There you go, good girl. Such a good girl for me,” Steve cooes, and your mind melts from the praise. You’ve always been a sucker for kind words. “Oh, fuck,” you mewl as he bottoms out inside your cunt. Your pussy grips him tightly from both the pain and pleasure.

“Shit—that’s it, petal. You got this,” he eggs on, watching as you scrunch your face from the adjustment. Steve keeps you there, still on his cock, for a few moments. He revels in every expression you make, the sharp exhale and the clenching of your fists. It’s a surreal experience for the blond—every bit of it feels like a fantasy that’s too vivid.

“St– Steve,” you let out a breathy moan. The contrast between the two of you—one fully nude and the other still dressed—makes you feel shameful. “I got ya, honey,” he tells you. Suddenly, a hand wraps around your throat. You grab Steve’s wrist immediately, out of fear and arousal. Nobody’s ever done this to you; you’ve never thought of it before. He squeezes lightly, and you gasp from the pressure. “I won’t hurt you—I would never,” he reassures, though he’s careful not to tell you how much he loves the look of fear in your eyes.

“You know what to do, don’t you? Ride my cock, baby. C’mon, take what you need. Make yourself feel good,” Steve urges before guiding you himself. He uses his other hand to lift you up and drag you back down. You moan as he makes you fuck yourself on his dick.

You eventually take charge—at least, that’s how you feel at first. Your wet walls slide up and down Steve’s length, coating him in your wetness. Every time he nudges your sweet spot, your knees buckle, and you lose momentum.

“Yeah, that’s it. Such a good girl for me,” he grunts beneath you, though he struggles to appreciate your hard work. The pace is far too slow for him, so he starts to buck his hips upwards, meeting you halfway. His heavy balls slap against your ass each time, and the pleasure is so good that you fall forward onto his chest, with just the hand around your throat supporting you.

You still try to ride his cock, but at most, you simply gyrate your hips until your clit rubs against his pubic bone, adding to your euphoria. Your goal is to take what you want from Steve and put up with the disgusting act until you can escape his clutches. But you can feel your determination wearing away.

Steve’s moans and groans rumble in his chest, along with the clamouring of his heart. “You feel so good, baby. So warm, an’ tight, an’ wet. All for me, right?” he hums in your ear, not caring that you don’t give him a proper response. He’ll fix that soon.

There’s a Brooklyn accent to his words, one that you only pick up on now. An orgasm builds up in you quickly, that familiar elastic band in your stomach tightening with every push and pull of the blond’s member.

You clench around his length, and Steve knows you’re about to come. “Go ahead, honey. Come all over this dick,” he grunts, and as if on command, you reach your climax.

Stars decorate your vision as you squeeze him tightly. Euphoria pulses through your entire body, and your inner walls throb, holding onto the man under you. You stain his cock with your cream and let out a cry that is almost pornographic. “That’s it. Fuck, you were made for me,” Steve says, fucking into you with more fervour and vigour than before.

He makes you ride out your orgasm to the point where it’s almost too much to handle. You’ve never had a lover make you feel this good.

“Shit, I’m sorry, petal, I can’t hold on any longer. Your pussy is just perfect. I’ll do better next time; I swear,” Steve promises, and you furrow your brows. He starts to use you like some sort of toy, bouncing you and chasing after his own pleasure. “I can’t wait to fill you up until you’re leaking with my cum. You want that, dontcha?”

Initially, the idea fills you with disgust. But as his cock repeatedly hits your g-spot, you find yourself agreeing with him. It’s filthy, and you feel ashamed of yourself, but those feelings dissipate swiftly.

He pants like an animal, taking what’s his before shoving his dick deep into you. His balls clench as they empty themselves, white streaks painting your inner walls. Steve curses, and his eyes shut from the pleasure.

At the same time, you come undone for the blond once again. Your moans mirror each other as you’re filled up with his cum. “Fuck, yes,” he groans, running his hands up and down your body, almost as if to soothe you.

You’re exhausted. Maybe it’s from the way Steve just fucked you, or maybe whatever he put in your drink last night is still in your system.

Either way, you doze off right in his arms, just as he’s dreamed of for so long.

#chris evans #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x you #captain america #marvel #x reader #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers smut #dark steve rogers #dark steve rogers x reader #dark fic #fic #lemon #smut

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jeonsweetpea · 2 months

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The Moon Knows Our Secrets (2) - Final

Exes to Lovers!AU | Hybrid!Jungkook x Hybrid!OC | Soulmate!AU

genre: angst, smut, exes to lovers, vampire/werewolf hybrid (emphasis on werewolf), soulmates, forced proximity

rating: explicit

description: He doesn’t remember loving you. How could he, when you’re the one who erased his memories? You run into him a year later at a wedding. The year after that he’s reported missing and you go off to find him. Then you wonder: did he ever forget you?

word count: 17.7k

warnings (SPOILERS!!!): tension, resentment, fight scenes (nothing too graphic), Boxer!JK, injuries, blood, spying, drama with exes, arguing, underground cage fighting with ill intentions, OC and JK wrestle for control when he goes into his rut, a magic spell gone wrong, biting, JK and OC's POVs are included, HAPPY ENDING

smut warnings (tread carefully): masturbation (male), JK later goes into his RUT, kissing, unprotected sex, thigh job, oral sex (male and female receiving), scratching, rough sex, face-fucking, standing sex, knotting, creampies, dirty talk, multiple rounds, multiple orgasms, hickies, nipple play, tummy bulge, lots of cum, marking, doggystyle, slight breeding kink (no pregnancy), slight dumbification, pain kink, brief mentions of anal, chains, hand jobs

a/n: This is an epilogue for my series Moonstruck (inspired by TVD), but it can be read as a STAND-ALONE! You do not have to read Moonstruck (but it will be more satisfying if you have 😉). This is the most smut I've written in a while and I tried out a new writing style too. I hope you enjoy it! Reblogs and asks always make my day, thank you! Or if you prefer AO3, I post there too.

| Part 1 | Part 2

Six Months Later…

Another unknown number. You stare at your phone on the motel bed like the device is an uninvited guest as you step out of the bathroom, scrunching a towel around your damp hair. The clock on the wall reads midnight.

Maybe it’s a client?

The call disappears before you can answer it, reverting to the lock screen—the wedding group picture from last year. You had cropped it where it showcases only you and Jungkook. It’s a tad pixelated from being zoomed in so much, but the same deer-in-the-headlights expression pokes through on both of your faces. He was holding you in a dip position because you had almost fallen. The memory makes you smile every time, and you need a little joy in this dreary room.

You sit on the bed and the phone rings again, as if on cue. The towel is cast aside as you answer it, tapping the button for speaker mode.

“Hello?”

“Is this Miss [Y/N]?”

Even your alarm clock can’t get you out of bed this fast. You’re up on your feet, placing the phone against your ear as your heart rate spikes. There’s no way. That deep, smooth voice was unmistakable, especially when it used to whisper the filthiest things in your ear. “Y-Yes, this is her. Who is this?”

As if you don’t already know. “I’m Officer Kim Taehyung, Headmaster Kim gave me your number.”

What’s the latest phone model in store? Because you’re seconds away from shattering the current one in your hands. Or maybe you should redirect your anger around Namjoon’s neck instead. You kept your words steady as you said, “Oh, I see. What can I do for you?”

“Well, I’m so sorry to call you at this hour, but I’m worried about a… a friend of mine,” he says. His hesitation on the “friend” label piques your interest. “I haven’t been able to reach him in a couple of weeks. I’m worried he’s gone missing.”

Wait. He’s an officer now?

“If an officer such as yourself hasn’t been able to find him, that is worrisome. I’m assuming your friend is supernatural. Because that’s kind of all I do…”

“Yes, of course. He’s a hybrid.”

Your heart is lodged in your throat, unable to force the things you want to scream out. You had to take a deep breath before asking in a low voice, depicting how serious this is, “He’s a what?”

“A hybrid. Do you… know him?”

Do I know him… what a stupid question. You roll your eyes as if he could see you through the phone. “Text me everything you have on him. I’ll find him.”

“How?”

“Are you questioning my skills? I said I’ll find him.”

You hang up after that and collapse flat on your back, the mattress squeaking from your weight. You shouldn’t be so harsh on him; the poor man wasn’t up to date with all that’s happened. It’s not like he would know your history with Jungkook. Or you, for that matter. You made sure of that.

A buzz from your phone snaps you from your thoughts.

KTH: His name is Jeon Jungkook. His last known location was his apartment up north. I’ll send you the address and a picture.

He’s a man of his word, as the next text contains a map with the location marked by a round red pushpin. As much as you want to cremate Namjoon, Taehyung has given you the first lead you’ve had in months. If anything happened to Jungkook, you’d never forgive yourself.

*Bzz*

Well, that’s new. It’s a picture of Jungkook under a white duvet, his arm bent, his head propped on his hand. Most of his body was covered, but the amount of skin showing at the junction between his neck and shoulder lets you know he is naked. Or at most, shirtless. Both are equally hot options if you have anything to say about it.

His lips are pressed together into a coy smile, but his eyes are screaming “fuck me.” Like a personal challenge.

KTH: Oops. I didn’t mean to send that picture.

You: It’s fine. I got the jist of what he looks like.

Why he has such a suggestive photo of Jungkook in the first place was concerning, but not enough for you to press further.

Jungkook’s Point of View

My guard is up as my opponent swings his fists. His moves have zero technique, relying solely on blind rage as he tries to knock me out. Too bad I was quicker than him, playing the defensive first while I decided the best way to secure my victory.

As we shuffle around the caged ring, the burly man in front of me grows impatient, like a bull taunted by a red cape. The more he charged, the more I dodged. He hasn’t gotten a single hit in, which only spurs the crowd to cheer louder for me.

My heart is battering around in my rib cage, excited from the adrenaline rush. Having the spotlight on me, adoring fans, and exerting my muscles makes me feel alive. I don’t focus on anything else. I can’t. If I want to win, I transform whatever turmoil brews inside me into determination.

The rules are simple: no weapons, no biting, only fists and feet. Classic brawl style. We may be wolves, but there are boundaries, or our pride would cause a full-on slaughter.

The guy in front of me is drenched in sweat, and I see how his movements slowed—he was getting tired. It was time for me to go on the offensive.

I launch a kick, aiming for his right side. He caught it without even blinking, earning a choral gasp from the audience. They assume I’m in a bind, but I focus all my strength on my other leg and smack the dude across the face at lightning speed. He fell with a resounding thud, but I don’t wait for him to regain balance.

I hit him with all I got—jab, cross, jab, cross. Right hook, left hook. He cowered in the corner like a bitch and I knee him in the gut. It was like watching a boulder topple over, his pride smashed into smithereens. Throwing my arms up, I circle the cage to pump up morale. The crowd bangs their fists against the enclosure as I roar. The referee begins the countdown from ten.

Another victory added to my streak. Maybe I’ll treat myself and get laid tonight. I can smell the eager ones in the room and when I first got here, I always turned them down to be modest. Fuck that. I’m finally going to do it.

I scan the room for potential suitors when my eyes land on her. It was like tunnel vision where everyone else was blacked out and she was the light at the end. I’m nothing but a moth to her flame, so gobsmacked that I rub my eyes to ensure I wasn’t seeing things.

When I come to, she’s gone. There’s no way.

I worked so hard to get over her. Is my brain so fucked that it’s starting to make me hallucinate? It seems years of therapy did absolutely nothing. Thanks, Jin.

Next thing I know the big guy recovers and tackles me to the ground. He got a good hit in; I tasted blood. There was no time to dwell on a figment of my imagination. My thirst for victory shouldn’t be underestimated as I swing my fist square in his jaw. I wasn’t going down that easy.

Yikes. That’s a doozy.

I’ve been examining my face for five minutes now, hating how he split my lip open. Oh well. It’ll heal soon enough and I sent him home with far worse.

That was the last fight of the night, so I had the locker room all to myself. The staff went home after sending the customers on their way. I go to my locker, type in the combination, and pull out a spare change of clothes and a towel.

I head to the shower, placing my things on the bench. I undress, the first thing being my tank top, which had splotches of blood stained on the white fabric. Most of it wasn’t mine anyway, thankfully. I remove my shorts, discarding them in the same pile as my top.

I enter the shower and close the curtain, turning the water onto the hottest setting. Once it hits my skin, I throw my head back and feel my muscles release its tension as I bask in the warmth. I tilt my head forward to get my hair damp when thoughts of her creep into my mind.

It felt real. She looked real. I remembered everything about her appearance from head to toe even if I only saw her briefly.

Her hair was dyed now to a color that suited her features. She had minimal makeup on that further enhanced her natural beauty. Her body was adorned in black skinny jeans where the seams were in front, matching her black combat boots and leather jacket. Underneath was a short-sleeved v-neck, her cleavage prominent and so inviting. Ugh. I shouldn’t be thinking about her in such a way, but where was I supposed to look? Her push-up bra was doing god’s work.

Man, I’m so pathetic. I shouldn’t lust over her. She left me not once, but twice. What’s worse is she doesn’t know I remember everything. Maybe I shouldn’t have kept vervain on me that day. Would my life have turned out better?

I dispense some body wash into my hands, lathering it between my palms before rubbing my torso. My hands trail down to my groin area, and I thoroughly clean it because sweaty balls are such a turn-off. But then I wrap my hand around the base of my cock, stroking it slowly.

It looks like I’m washing it, but I already know what’s coming next. Memories of her are like shards of glass I can’t remove, embedded so deep that it scars. I reminisce about our past. How it felt to touch her, kiss her, love her. Her sweet moans, her soft breasts, her addictive scent. I’m palming myself and shuddering. Unlike her, my hands are calloused, but I pretend I have her soft touch.

I close my eyes and fantasize. I’d tear her clothes off with my bare teeth, mark all over her chest with my lips, turn her around, and take her. Indulge in my primitive urges and teach her a lesson. God, I wanted to fuck someone tonight, anyone, but my mind defaults to her.

The soap makes it easy to glide my hand up and down my cock. I’m going much faster now, my breaths more ragged. No one’s here anyway. So I moan. I don’t give a fuck anymore. I just need to come and get this out of my system.

I’m about to finish when there’s a gasp outside my stall. My entire body stills and I don’t take a moment to ask “Who’s there?” like the stupid idiots you see in horror movies. I think about what to do next and then commit.

After turning off the water, I pull the curtain back and step out. I glance to my left to see the shower stall at the end has its curtain closed. It wasn’t like that before.

I put on my boxers because I sure as hell wasn’t going to face this intruder naked. I plan to charge in there and drag him out without saying a word. Other than the sound of my footsteps, it’s eerily quiet. I reach my hand out, but as soon as I’m about to grab the curtain, the shower turns on.

I hesitate, wondering if I’m about to be an asshole who’s about to expose an innocent soul out in the open. Before I built my reputation, I was jumped for being the new guy multiple times. That stopped after the third guy went home with three broken ribs though, but I can never be too careful. Some people were sore losers.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

Great. I’m not only stupid but polite. I’m sure the person behind the curtain will slit my throat any moment, so I better act fast. I grab the curtain and attempt to pull it, but it’s stuck.

Or rather, someone is holding it still. I yank harder this time, but they refuse to budge. I use both hands, gripping it extra tight, and tug with all my might until the sound of torn fabric echoes in the room, revealing the culprit.

The person I thought I healed from, the one I once thought I would heal with, is standing right before me, her eyes as wide as mine. I can’t think straight, so my body moves without permission as I charge forward, pinning her to the wall face first. I have her arms pinned behind her back, catching my breath when I realized what I had done.

I don’t want her to look at me. Because then I’d have to accept the fact that she’s real.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Your Point of View

Where do you start? Do you tell him you tracked him down to the countryside and climbed down a creepy cellar door behind a barn only to find out he was an underground cage fighter? Or explain how you followed him to the locker rooms hoping to get a word with him until you tripped on your shoelaces?

It’s difficult to decide when he’s got your arms twisted behind your back. They were getting sore.

“I–I heard you were missing,” you say, wary of your next choice of words. “Can you please let me go?”

You attempt to move, but he holds your wrists with one hand while using the other one to render your head immobile. He uses enough force to press your cheek against the cold tile.

“I didn’t say you could move,” he warned, his voice laced with venom. “Congratulations, you found me. I’m no longer missing.”

“And you’re a cage fighter?”

“What’s it to you?”

“You’re cheating. This place is only for werewolves and you’re a—”

He flips you around so quickly you almost get whiplash, your back pinned to the wall while he covers your mouth. He has a murderous glare, his jaw clenches, and the vein near his temple bulges out. “Be quiet. You never know who’s listening.”

Your eyes drink him in, ogling him unashamed because his beauty should have been illegal. His hair was damp, but you can tell it’s cut short now. He didn’t have any piercings in, his natural beauty was enough to make anyone fall to their knees—which is exactly what you wanted to do for him. But you don’t make a sound.

You couldn’t help but notice the glorious sight of his inked sleeve. When did he get that many tattoos? You bet there was a story to each one, but before you can dwell on it, Jungkook shifts his hand from your mouth to your eyes.

There’s a sense of deja vu from his actions. The last time he covered your eyes was to prevent you from compelling him two years ago. Following through with such a heartbreaking decision was difficult, but you believed it was for the best.

As for now? You’re not sure.

“So you stalk me because you thought I was missing, follow me into the showers, and now you’re ogling me like a pervert?”

He got you there. “I… I didn’t mean to…”

“If the roles were reversed, I’d look like some sick freak. You invaded my privacy.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You should be. Let me ask you something, and I expect you to be honest: Were you listening to me earlier?” He saw you tuck your lower lip under your teeth like you wanted to seal the words shut. “Answer me. And don’t play dumb.”

“Yes,” you say, meek and pathetic. “I heard you.”

You can’t see him, but his eyes are crazed like he doesn’t know how to act around you. “And did you like what you heard?” He closes the gap between your bodies, his bare chest barely brushing against yours. His lips are ghosting across your own as he continues. “You like hearing me get off like some sick freak? Is that what you are? A fucking pervert?”

“N-No…” You don’t sound convincing in the slightest.

His hot breath fans across your face. “I didn’t even get to finish.”

You gulp. “I… I could help you finish…”

Before your hand has a chance to sneak over to his lower region, he snatches it. “You aren’t allowed to touch me.”

“Technically, you touched me first.”

“Bratty now, are we? Don’t be flattered. I’d rather touch myself.” He releases your wrist, but his other hand is in the same spot, obstructing your sight. “I’m going to jerk off and you’re going to stand there until I’m finished.”

“What?”

“You heard me. And you’re going to keep hearing me until I’m satisfied. Understand?”

The constant steam from the shower was nearing the point of suffocation, but his words were far deadlier. “Okay.”

“Hands behind your back. I don’t want you tempted. Perverts like you can’t be trusted.”

You have to scold yourself for igniting a fire in the pit of your stomach from his slander, but you obey. Though you can’t see him, you hear the soft smacking sounds of him jerking his cock, surprised at how quickly he was to start.

If you had your sight, you’d be able to see how he is staring at your lips, wishing more than anything he could kiss you. How his eyes trail down to your cleavage and how the droplets of water made them look more enticing. His mind is racing a mile a minute through all his fantasies of how he’d take you, punish you, torment you until you were begging to come. As much as he does want to fuck you, you’re so damn gorgeous that admiring you was enough.

His moans sound like soft sobs the closer he approaches his climax, his hand speeding up. It’s erotic, whiny, and sexy when he’s so desperate. He’s grunting through gritted teeth, panting like he’s running out of breath. You wonder if he makes the same noises when he’s working out.

Fuck, you’d give anything to see him now. But his intentions were clear. You were to be still until he was finished.

“Does this turn you on?” he asks, his voice shaky. He lays his chin on your shoulder, lips pressed against the shell of your ear. “I’m close.”

He lets out a choked gasp, whispering “fuck, fuck, fuck” as he pumps himself as fast as he can, reaching his high and submitting to the pleasure. It’s unbelievably erotic and he comes in his hand, catching the spurts of cum. He pulls back and stares at your lips again.

“Open.” Your mouth obeys willingly and he shoves two of his cum-soaked fingers inside. You close your lips around them, sucking them clean and savoring his taste. It’s bitter and slightly salty, but you welcome it. “Good girl.”

The praise brings a grin to your face. He rinses his hand under the water, turns it off, and finally releases his hold on you. You see the large expanse of his back as he walks away, almost drooling at his size. He slips on a loose black T-shirt, sweatpants, and slides.

He looks over his shoulder. “Do you need clothes?”

The question makes your heart swell. “I’m good.”

Jungkook hears you mutter words similar to Latin. He turns around to see your necklace glow when you rub it between your thumb and forefinger. Your clothes dry in an instant, and he chuckles. “When did you learn magic?”

“I’ve had some free time.”

He peers down to your feet, letting out a heavy sigh as he walks over. Getting down on one knee, he ties your shoelace and you can’t help but melt.

“I hope you have some free time now,” he says, lifting his head to meet your gaze. “I’m not done with you yet. We need to talk.”

It’s past 3 AM. The air is cool and crisp, carrying a faint scent of hay. Stars are twinkling in the clear night sky while the moon casts a silvery glow, illuminating silhouettes of barns in the distance. It’s quiet since folks are deep in their slumber, so walks home are usually serene.

“Jungkook, wait up!”

Today’s an exception. “Hurry up, slowpoke.”

You jog to catch up to his pace on the dirt road. He rolls his eyes but slows his steps, tucking his hands in his pockets. “Didn’t you say we needed to talk?”

He stops abruptly, and you almost bump into his mountainous form. “Okay. Talk. Why are you here? You made it clear the last time we met that you couldn’t stay.”

You fumble with your words, as your brain isn’t quite as speedy as your lips. “Well I… I wasn’t in my right mind then.”

“Did I hurt you?” Your expression softens when you see the concern in his features, those brown doe eyes so big and round that you can see your reflection in them. Had he spent all this time fearing the worst?

“No… not in the slightest. I left because I was embarrassed.”

“I don’t believe you. You looked at me like…” He closes his eyes as if the next words would pain him. “Like I was a mistake.”

“No!” you exclaim, shaking your head. “You are anything but a mistake.”

“Then why do I feel like you’re hiding something?” He invades your space, his large frame towering over yours. “Why are you really here, [Y/N]?”

This is your chance to tell him the truth. With one command, you can make him remember loving you and all the shared memories that came with it. You’re ready to love him the way he deserves, but the thing is… you’re not sure you deserve him. Consequences were in order and pain was inevitable. He’ll hate you. He’ll feel betrayed.

Panic takes charge, forming an excuse for you. “I told you… someone told me you went missing. I was worried.”

He raises an eyebrow, prodding the inside of his cheek with his tongue like your answer was unsatisfactory. “Oh yeah? Who’s that?”

“Kim Taehyung.”

Jungkook drops his arms to his side. “Wow. That son of a…” He clasps a hand to his forehead, pacing back and forth in utter disbelief. “Guess I have two stalkers.”

“What exactly is Taehyung’s relationship to you?”

He stops and faces you, looking like you had offended him. “There is no relationship. There will never be a relationship, but he doesn’t seem to get that! God!”

You place your hands on your hips. “I don’t understand.”

He decides against elaborating but quickly changes his mind after seeing you use Taehyung to deflect.

“He’s an old roommate. We used to fuck. Okay?” Time seems to stop between you two but for an entirely different reason. You’re abhorred, unable to comprehend the fact your ex fucked your other ex. This must be the universe’s punishment for messing with their memories. Because the Jungkook you know would have never sought him out after everything Taehyung put you through.

You fucked my ex?! The dude who tried to kill you?! The guy who backstabbed us and harmed us?! Are you insane?!

You have to bite your tongue before the house of cards collapses.

“I was experiencing my first rut. It was overwhelming. Not like I could fuck a human without hurting them. Permanently,” he adds, watching how your face morphs into one lost in thought. “What’s up?”

You snap out of it. “Oh. Nothing. Before Taehyung, I went west because there were rumors of the ‘Cervix Splitter’ and thought…”

He stares at you, mouth agape as he points to himself. “You thought that was me?!”

“I don’t know!” you say, holding your hands out with your palms up. “I think they might have a serial killer loose… damn.”

“Can we please stick to the subject?” he asks, exasperation coating every word. You nod and gesture for him to continue. “Anyway, he and I ran into each other and one thing led to another. We were both hybrids with needs. It was a good arrangement, but then he got obsessive. Wanted a relationship. I said no.”

You give him a look of sympathy as you recall how Taehyung reacted when you broke up with him. Even though you erased your existence from his mind, it seems his obsessive tendencies lingered. Some things never change. “He didn’t like that very much, did he?”

“What do you think? I ran away, so he’d leave me alone. It worked for the past few months until you showed up.” He narrows his eyes into slits. “Did you tell him I was here?”

“No. He keeps texting me though.”

He points an accusatory finger at you. “You’re not going to tell him anything. Got it?”

“I won’t. But if you keep that tone up, I might reconsider,” you warn.

“And how would that benefit you? Do you know Taehyung?”

Unfortunately. “It’s my job to help those in need in the supernatural community.”

“What are you, the Scooby Doo gang?” He steps back to laugh. “Is this what you’ve been up to since you’ve left?”

“Don’t make fun of me,” you scold. “Helping is what I do. I’m good at it. It clears my mind.”

“Okay. Then you can ‘help’ yourself out of here. Tell Taehyung you didn’t find me while I go home and rest. I’m exhausted.”

He dashes off, leaving a trail of dust in his wake. You follow at once and encounter a quaint cottage surrounded by forestry. Jungkook waits at the front door, folding his arms across his chest.

“Do you need something else?” he asks. You swear you can see the cogs turning in his mind, unable to figure out what’s your angle.

“Are you going to continue fighting?”

He shrugs. “Yeah. It’s a great stress reliever. Keeps me from…” His eyes flit to your lips for a brief second. “... overthinking. Plus I get great perks. Respect. Fans. Money.”

“You don’t need money.”

“I know, but it’s a power trip having it. Besides, people bet on me. I’d hate to let my loyal benefactors down.”

You mirror his stance, folding your arms as displeasure passes your face. “You’re a hybrid. It’s a given you’ll win every fight and that’s not fair to their pack.”

“Only if they find out.” You’re about to counteract his argument, but he beats you to it. “Look. Boxing’s my thing. I enjoy the rush it gives me. Exerting my muscles, feeling that sweet burn, and fighting until my body gives out—it’s addicting. I feel alive.”

His eyes shimmer with every word he speaks like he was putting on a speech to inspire high school kids. It only brings you more dread when there’s a confession on the tip of your tongue.

“Well… do you have to box here?”

“I like it here. Now if you don’t mind…”

He pulls out his keys, turns around, and inserts them into the lock. You nibble on your thumbnail, scrambling to come up with another excuse. Once he enters, you use your enhanced speed and invite yourself in.

“Can I stay?” you ask, quick to shut the door. He chuckles, impressed by your tenacity.

“What is with you? Don’t you have a Cervix Splitter to catch? Please leave.”

The words bubble up in your throat, forcefully coming to the surface like word vomit. “You can’t stay here!”

The outburst garners his undivided attention as he stares at you dumbfounded like there is Wii music playing in the background. “Why?”

“There’s some people who know you’re a hybrid…” you reveal, your voice reduced to a mere squeak.

“What did you say?” he asks through gritted teeth. You don’t reply and he repeats himself, this time with a lower volume, which spooks you more than if he was shouting. “What did you do?”

“When I came here to find you, I asked if anyone saw you. I showed them a picture and told them you’re a hybrid. Thought it’d make it faster…” You let out a small laugh. “I was kinda right…”

Jungkook looks like he’s at a crossroads of whether to hate you or murder you. Or both. “Why would you expose me like that?”

“I didn’t know it was a secret.” He lifts his fist at an angle toward the door, and you wait for him to slam it down in anger. However, he sighs and lowers his hand slowly, splaying his fingers against the wood. You blink twice, choosing your next words carefully. “I don’t understand. Why would you hide the fact you’re a hybrid?”

He holds onto the sides of his head like he is about to rip his hair out. “Oh, I don’t know,” Sarcasm is dripping in every word. “Did you forget how your grandparents tried to kill us when they discovered your existence?”

What did he say?

His hands drop down by his side as do yours. Realization dawns upon you two, the world coming to a screeching halt. Shock renders you immobile as the gears in your head try to turn, but they’re overwhelmed by the million questions plaguing your mind. He shouldn’t know that. He shouldn’t remember that. Unless… he never forgot.

“You remember me… You remember everything,” you say in a breathy tone. You should’ve seen it coming, especially with how he acted at the wedding. “How do you—“

“I had vervain on me,” he confesses without the slightest remorse.

You take a small step back, almost stumbling. “So this whole time… you never forgot me? You knew what I did and didn’t say anything? You slept with Taehyung?!”

“That’s what you got from this? That’s what you choose to focus on?” His question pins you for a fool.

“Because that’s the stupidest thing you could’ve done! I erased his memories so he could start fresh. Same with you!”

“What difference does it make? I asked, no, I begged you not to erase my memories and you did it anyway.”

You steel yourself to remain calm. “Because I didn’t want you burdened by me anymore. I thought I was doing what was best for you.”

He tilts his head, his eye slightly twitching as he raises a finger like he is about to lecture you. “Stop. Stop saying it was best for me when the reality was, you were only thinking about yourself.” He takes a sharp inhale. “You wanna know why I got with Tae? Because I was a mess when you left. Devastated. Broken people look for broken people, [Y/N].”

You threw your head back. “Oh my god... This is precisely why I wanted you to forget.”

He almost snarls. “You don’t get it, do you? You always do this. You make decisions without my consent. I never asked to be a hybrid, I never asked for any of this shit.”

You place a hand on your chest, offended. “I’m sorry, you’re upset I turned you to save your life?”

“You turning me was what started this whole mess,” he spits out, revulsion apparent. “I was sired to you, I fell in love with you, I went through hell and back only for it to not matter in the end. You left me. I could forgive you the first time, but not for the second.”

There aren’t any words you can say to combat this.

“I remember everything about you. About us,” he says, the look in his eyes resembling a kicked puppy. “I remember what you said the day you tried to compel me.”

“Don’t,” you plead. He throws your words back at you in a rather snarky manner.

“‘When I’m ready, I’ll come to you and you can decide then if you’ll have me.,” he quotes. “I used to think I’d be okay waiting for you to come around… but that was incredibly stupid. You came back only to abandon me again and for what? To go around playing vigilante?”

“Jungkook…”

“No, I’m not done.” He starts to pace back and forth. “Did you ever stop to think about what I wanted? Of course not. Because in the end, it’s all about you. You should’ve erased everything. What was the point of only erasing my love for you, huh?”

“What do you want me to say?” you ask, fighting back tears.

“I want you to tell me the truth. You erased Taehyung’s memories of you because he was a psychopath but spared me the smallest glimpse. Why? Why not erase it all?”

“Because I love you!” you exclaim. He stops pacing, shooting you a skeptical glare. “And knowing that you still remembered me, even a tiny part of me, was comforting enough to help me move on. I needed space.”

“Well, isn’t that sweet? But I’m not your safety net, [Y/N].” He walks over to his front door and pulls it open. “Get out.”

You shake your head. “Jungkook, please.”

“Either you get out or I’ll throw you over my shoulder and force you out.”

The resentment he had must’ve grown exponentially over the years. If you push him further than you already had, he might snap. So you exit his house but go for one final attempt at whatever relationship you can salvage with him.

“Please let me stay. I can protect you from those cage fighters if they decide to get even.”

“No. You’ve done enough.”

“Jungkook—”

“Enough!” His voice carries, causing birds to flutter their wings and find solace in another tree further away. You watch as he towers over you again, but beneath his icy glare is a heartbroken man. “Since I first saw you, I have belonged to you completely.”

He tightens his fists, closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath before saying the next part.

“I have always belonged to you. And for that, I suffered. I came here to escape, to heal, and it worked. I was at peace and you waltz in here, stirring up chaos in my life where it’s not welcomed.” His eyes never waver and you don’t dare look away. “And what’s funny is how you expect me to do what? Take you back?”

“I… I don’t know. I thought…”

“You thought wrong,” he finishes for you. “Do you think it’s easy seeing you? I’m angry, [Y/N]. You make me so mad I can’t even think straight.”

“Then yell at me! Don’t push me away.”

“I’m pushing you away because I know you. And I know what hurts you the most.” He caresses your face longingly, slowly, like it’d be the last time. His fingers ghost the surface of your skin, and you lean in, desperate for more. But he pulls back. “Either you choose me or you lose me. And it’s too late to choose me now. Goodbye [Y/N].”

“No,” you say like a stubborn child. “I don’t want to leave you. I’m afraid to lose you. Please.”

He clicks his tongue at you as he shakes his head. “I suggest you face your fears. It’s not like this is the first time.”

The last thing you see is the door being slammed in your face.

Jungkook’s Point of View

That was the worst sleep of my life. I couldn’t stop thinking about her and how I left her. She deserved all my venomous words, but empathy made me regret everything. Why do we even need such an emotion when all it does is make us feel like shit?

It’s pitch black in my room. The low-pitched sound of the air conditioner is my only companion. I enjoy being alone, but that doesn’t mean I don’t get lonely. I shouldn't get used to missing her, but I’m used to it again. I wish she were here.

I decide to get dressed and quickly leave the house. For once the angel and devil on my shoulder agree, pressing me to find her but for two different reasons. One says to forgive and forget, the other craves to deliver punishment and commit sins.

I tell myself I’m going hunting instead. Rabbits and squirrels fall prey to my clutches and I feel a pang in my heart when I drink their blood, but I have to survive somehow. Before I knew it, it was dark outside and the moon looked lonely, almost like it was crying in the night sky.

I couldn’t find her. I searched all day, but the countryside is vast, and I’m drenched in sweat. Checking the time on my watch, I see I’m late for my next fight.

Shit.

It’s fine. She’s an Original Hybrid and can take care of herself.

Rushing back to the barn, I circle to find the angled cellar door. I pull the handle, descend downstairs, and run into one of the bouncers. Aside from cage fighting, the underground establishment is used for clubbing and drinking most days of the week. I hear the heavy bass from the music, feeling the ground shake from the vibrations. I greet the bouncer with a handshake, but he stares at me like I had pissed in his thermos.

“Ms. Lim wants to see you,” he says, his voice gruff. He gestures his bald head towards the door that says “AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY” on the right, so I head there. There’s a narrow hallway and at the end of the corridor is her office. I slowly open the door.

“Jungkook,” Her nasal voice already has a trace of annoyance as I poke my head in. She’s sitting behind her desk with two henchmen about twice my size, both dressed in suits with their hands clasped in front. “Come in please.”

I do what she says and she points to the chair in front, so I sit. “Hello, Ms. Lim. I know I’m late, I’m sorry. Can I have the next fight?”

Her mouth twitches. “No. We need to talk.”

She snaps her fingers and the two bodyguards stand on either side of me, each placing a firm hand on my shoulders. When I squirm, they hold me tighter as if cementing me still. I let out a nervous laugh, feigning innocence. “What’s going on?”

The middle-aged woman adjusts her thick-rimmed glasses, scoffing like I was being impolite in the presence of royalty. “I run a tight-knit business, Jungkook. My wolves… They follow me. They listen to me. Because I’m honest and upfront. I don’t dish out bullshit.”

She stands, placing her hands behind her back as she circles the front of her desk, closing the gap between us.

“Wolves like to fight. It’s in our nature to have some aggression. Here you can release it in a healthy, controlled environment,” she says. “When you first arrived, I liked you right away. The sheer arrogance you had, the drive to win—you were a natural for the ring. People bet on you because you never let them down.” She leans against her desk, lowering her glasses onto the tip of her nose bridge to look at me. “You don’t want to let people down, right?”

The bait can’t be more obvious, but I indulge her anyway. “Of course not.”

My answer seems to placate her and she puts her finger under my chin, tilting my head up. “Then I need you to tell me the truth. What are you, Jungkook?”

“I’m a wolf. Just like you, ma’am.” Not like that was a complete lie. I am a wolf. Half.

She grips my chin harder, her pupils blown so wide that they overtook her irises. “Is that all?”

“Look, it’s clear you know something so why don’t you…” She whips out a pistol from underneath the slit in her long dress and I stare down the barrel without moving a muscle.

“There’s no fear in your eyes. Probably because you know and I know that this crummy little thing won’t kill you.” She pulls the trigger, but the shot is empty. I try my best not to scowl as she puts it away. “One of my men ran into a strange girl yesterday. She was hysterical, almost aggressive in asking about you.”

“Make your point.”

“She told me you were a hybrid. Is that true?”

I lean back against the chair, my shoulders less tense now that the secret is out. “Yes. So what? I’m still part wolf.”

“You’re half-wolf,” she corrects. “I don’t give a damn about you being a hybrid. But I do care that you weren’t fully transparent with me. And people talk. Word gets around I’m letting a hybrid take all the winnings and my business is done.”

“No one has to know.”

“Oh darling… she blabbed all over town about you. I’m sure everyone already knows. But I have a deal for you if you want to stay.”

Judging from her toothy smile, the chances of this deal being more beneficial for her than me are high. “What deal?”

“Do you know how much money I can make if I put two hybrids against each other?” she asks, flashing a smirk. “Especially with a pretty little thing like her against someone like you. The crowd would go wild.”

I shake my head. “I’ll pass. She’s not into cage fighting and I don’t hit women.”

“Who says she’s not?” I don’t like her tone and the insinuation behind it. “Darling, who do you think is taking your place right now?”

“What?”

“[Y/N] is fighting her heart out at this very moment. The wolves adore her. Probably because I said whoever beats her gets to breed her.”

This time I force myself to stand, knocking out both men when they attempt to grab me again with a one-two combo. They collapse with a resounding thud, and I head straight for Ms. Lim. I’m holding her dress collar and lifting her in the air, but she remains unphased.

“Where is she?”

“I see she’s important to you.”

“Where is she?!” I shout, not caring that I spit on her.

“She turned you, right? How’d she do it? Did you two have sex?”

“I’m not asking you again,” I warn. She wraps her hand around my wrist, her irises shifting to a muted gold as she pries my hold off her, dislocating my hand. I curse in pain, fully prepared to retaliate, but she snaps her fingers three times.

I hear footsteps from behind me and the door opens with a loud slam. Looking over my shoulder, I see about fifty men in black suits who are bigger than me enter the room. They all bear matching stoic expressions, but their fists are up and ready as their pointed glares shoot in my direction.

“There isn’t much information on hybrids and experimenting on an Original is too good of an opportunity to pass up. I’m sure my boys would love to breed her. Then business would be booming with hybrid fighters at my side!” Ms. Lim cries.

My blood is boiling and I swear I’m seeing red. I snap my wrist back into place without breaking eye contact and backhand her across the face. She falls to the floor, stunned, holding the side of her cheek. “I thought you said you don’t hit women!”

“My apologies. I meant beautiful women.”

Three men grab me—one at each arm and the last holding my waist. The others line up, each taking a jab at me. The first punch is aimed at my stomach. One breaks my nose. Another hits me square in the jaw. I see stars by the time Ms. Lim stands, holding her hand up for them to stop.

“How dare you? Oh, I’m going to make sure your little girlfriend is knocked up. Poor thing has no clue what plans I have for her.”

I muster enough strength to spit at her, flicking droplets of blood onto her face. She shrieks in disgust and slaps me in return. I only laugh like a madman.

“Good luck… she’s infertile…” I say, trying to find my breath. “And my girl can take care of herself. She won’t lose.”

“It’s okay. I can still find plenty of uses for her. If my boys can’t breed her, they can still fuck her once they’re done with you. I bet she screams pretty,” Ms. Lim says.

“You’re lying!”

“Am I?” She snaps her fingers again, prompting the last man who punched me to step forward. He pulls out something gold from his pocket, dangling it in front of me like a carrot for a rabbit. My face falls when I recognize the double moon charms. “Mr. Ahn here is the first one that defeated [Y/N]. He’ll get to have her first.”

The douchebag has a devilish grin as he slips the necklace over my head. He pats my cheek twice before smacking it hard on the third. I bare my teeth, more than ready to kick his ass, but other men are holding me still.

“I’m going to check the status of our beautiful prize and see if she’s ready for Mr. Ahn,” Ms. Lim declares, exiting the room with the sleazy bastard. Right before she closes the door, she sticks her head in and adds, “Whoever gets that necklace from him gets to have her next.”

The door shuts and I’m shouting curses at her until my throat is hoarse. All sense of self-control goes out the window as I unleash my wrath, my anger blinding me as my fists take control. In cage fights, I’ve had to hold back. But now? I’m ready to demolish anyone who gets in my way.

Your Point of View

After Jungkook kicked you out, you roamed the area for a place to stay. With your abilities, you had endless options: an inn, a motel, a farmhouse, or even the forest if you prefer. Heartbroken, you planned to wolf out until a middle-aged woman found you on the side of the road.

She drove beside you, parked her car, and rolled down her windows. Your first instinct was to walk away, but she mentioned Jungkook and how she was his boss. She told you how her place wasn’t too far away, offering a place for you to stay the night.

Questions kept pouring out of you, but she wouldn’t answer until you agreed to her offer. Your guard was up the whole night despite the fact she was a werewolf too. She doted on you with tea and snickerdoodles, but you didn’t dare take a bite until after she did.

Though you were on edge most of the night, her aura was warm, like a grandmother’s love or what you could only imagine as such. Your grandparents tried to eradicate you for being a hybrid, believing that your existence was an abomination. It’s funny how Ms. Lim, someone not blood-related, treated you far better than they ever did.

She answered your questions about Jungkook, but you didn’t dare overshare about your relationship with him. She persuaded you to join her the next day at work, offering the gym and free training sessions with her best fighters. You weren’t sure at first, but then ultimately gave in.

The next day Ms. Lim gave you a tour of the underground cellar and you couldn’t believe how massive it was. Everyone you encountered greeted you like one of the family, and you got to learn new fighting techniques with her bodyguards.

When it was nighttime, Ms. Lim suggested you fight for real. You worried it’d be unfair, but she assured you the opponents were more than willing.

Your first opponent is a man who looks like the descendant of a Viking. His muscles are so large you can see the veins bulging underneath his skin. He gives you a crooked smile, which you would’ve found somewhat attractive if he hadn’t made a sexist comment the next second.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing in the ring? Hasn’t no one swept you off your feet and wed you yet?” You make the first move and use his words against him, sweeping him off his feet with your leg. He falls flat on his back and laughs while the crowd cheers. “It’s a shame. You’d make a great mother.”

“I’ll pass,” you say, sounding extra snarky.

“Come on. You know you can’t beat me.”

The man got back up only to be taken down again with a skillful spin kick, causing his back to slam against the cage. You smirk as his expression shifts to anger, and he tackles you to the opposite side like a mad bull. Grunts come from both sides as you use your elbow, jabbing the top of his head until he lets go.

You jump high and hang from the top of the cage, using your strong thighs to hold his head hostage. His oxygen depletes as his face turns purple, clawing at your legs but you don’t let up. His hands fall to his sides before his body collapses. Only then do you let go and land in a cool pose, feeling like a superhero.

The crowd goes wild and you jump up and down like a kid who scored the winning goal. “I did it!”

You see why Jungkook loved this place so much. It’s an indescribable feeling, a rush of exhilaration as glory consumes you.

Once you see Ms. Lim and her main bodyguard, you step out of the ring and greet her. “Ms. Lim, did you see? I won!”

She wraps her arm around your shoulder, giving you a toothy grin. “I know. I told you you’d do well. Let me show you your prize.”

You gasp. “I get a prize?”

She leads you through the sea of fans. “Of course. Everyone gets compensated.”

You enter a door that leads you to a narrow hallway. The lights were dim, but it was enough for you to see something horrific. From where you stand to the door at the end are unconscious bodies strewn across the floor. Some are slumped against the wall, others are flat on their back or stomachs, each carrying some deformity. There’s blood splattered on the floor, but it wasn’t gorey enough to be deemed a bloodbath (though the sight was still alarming).

“What the fuck happened?” you ask. Ms. Lim screams in shock when she steps in, covering her mouth as she stumbles back. If not for Mr. Ahn, she probably would’ve fallen.

The door at the end of the corridor opens and you hear ragged breathing. There you see Jungkook stagger out, barely able to hold himself up with one arm. He has cuts on his face and a black eye, so his vision is halved. His tank top is in shreds, the fabric hanging by a thread as it dangles from his bruised body.

He regains part of his strength once he sees you. “[Y/N]?”

You rush over to catch him before he falls. “Jungkook, what happened?!”

He’s putting his entire weight on you, close to fainting. But one look at Ms. Lim and he’s fired up. “That bitch… I’m gonna kill her…”

Ms. Lim wastes no time, urging Mr. Ahn to run away with her while you’re left bamboozled. “Ms. Lim?”

“She’s going to pay… She’s going to…”

Jungkook can’t fight his body’s limits anymore. The last thing he sees is darkness.

Sunlight pours through the window, stirring Jungkook from his slumber. He slowly opens one eye, surprised to see snow-covered trees and clear skies outside. In a daze, he sits up, holding his side as a sharp pain shoots through his body. He’s quick to notice his upper body has been covered in gauze and bandages.

Whoever did it was meticulous. His chest and shoulders are tightly bound in layers, protecting his battered torso. The bandages crisscrossed over his ribcage, some were wrapped around his biceps, with the gauze extending down to his forearms. Bloodstains seeped through while he was asleep, but they don’t warrant any concern for now.

Jungkook touches his face, finding the cut on his cheek and upper lip taken care of. His other eye is no longer swollen, allowing him to observe his surroundings. He sees he’s in a cozy room, the wood ceiling and floors making him believe he’s at a lodge. There’s a large window to his right as well as a nightstand. The lamp sitting atop casts a warm golden glow, and Jungkook turns it off by pulling the string.

There’s a gentle knock on the door. “Jungkook? Are you awake?”

He lays back down, covering his body with the duvet and closing his eyes as if he had never woken up. The doorknob jostles as you enter the room, holding a cup of water. You see his state and tip-toe closer, setting the mug on the nightstand.

Staring at people while they sleep is creepy, but Jungkook looks angelic. Even if his face was marred, it didn’t stunt his beauty. If anything, his injuries made him more beautiful, the bandages being proof of his protectiveness. What he was protecting, you don’t know.

“When you wake up, we seriously have a lot to talk about,” you whisper, pulling a nearby stool to sit on. “I don’t know why you did what you did. Ms. Lim and her men were so nice to me. She let me stay at her place after you kicked me out.”

You stick your tongue at him like a brat but end up giggling at your immaturity.

“You were right to kick me out though,” you say, sighing. “Even with the best intentions, I can’t make things right. I’m sorry. Trust me, no one is more frustrated with me than me. That’s why when Ms. Lim suggested for me to fight, I didn’t hesitate.”

You ball your fists. “But it was so fun. I won my fight like bam! Bam! Bam!” You punch the air at each onomatopoeia, and Jungkook has to refrain from laughing. Why were you so cute?

“I get why you do it now. I’ve always had to fight for survival. I didn’t think it could be… gratifying. Anyway, I support your cage-fighting career,” You purse your lips. “But I guess you don’t have one anymore, considering what you did back there. I’m honestly confused. Why did you hurt them? I chased after Ms. Lim and uh… well, she burned your house down.”

You wait a second as if he’d respond. “She told us to never come back with no explanation… I didn’t even get my prize for winning,” you huff.

Jungkook grunted, almost like he didn’t like what he was hearing. He turns onto his side, so he’d be facing away from you and wraps himself in a blanket burrito. The spot where he once lay had something gold in it. You carefully pick it up and caress the double moon charms with your thumb.

“My necklace…”

You stare at the back of his head, the gears in your head turning as you try to put the puzzle pieces together. Upon closer inspection, you notice faint bloodstains on the back of the charms and some on the chain.

“Did one of those men have my necklace? You beat up thirty men for it?”

“It was around fifty, but who’s counting?”

Your breath hitches, wondering if you were hearing things. Jungkook slowly sits up, resting his back against the headboard and flashing a cheeky grin. Heat spreads to the apples of your cheeks.

“Were you awake this whole time?”

“Maybe.” He gives you a quick once over. “Are you hurt? Did anyone touch you?”

“Hmm? I’m fine. I should be asking you that. You took a beating and I’m still confused as to why.”

He slumps against the headboard, sagging like a dramatic blob. “God, you’re dense.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? My necklace is all bloody… was this the prize Ms. Lim intended to give me?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes so far back they might as well get stuck. “Ms. Lim’s prize wasn’t the necklace. It was you. You were her men’s prize after the fight. She planned to let them have their way with you.”

Your eyes fall to the ground, your heart heavier than an anchor in a bottomless sea. Jungkook sees how you clutch the necklace in your fist, wishing he hadn’t revealed the truth so bluntly.

“Hey… I’m sorry,” he begins. “I didn’t mean to…”

“No. I was naive. After what happened with my grandmother, I thought Ms. Lim was different. Anyway,” you say, changing the subject. “That’s why you did what you did?”

“I thought she had you trapped somewhere. Or that without your necklace, you were at a disadvantage. She told me Mr. Ahn defeated you and I just went berserk at the thought of something happening to you.”

It’s hard not to see the love he has for you in those beautiful eyes of his. “I never fought Mr. Ahn, but I’m pretty sure I would’ve won. I’m freakin’ awesome in the ring.”

Jungkook chuckles. “I know. I never doubted your skills. She riled me up and I assumed the worst.”

“Well… Thank you for looking out for me. I’m glad to have my necklace back. I thought I lost it for good.”

“I thought I lost you.”

Time comes to a standstill. No more words are shared, yet so much is being said through simple eye contact, an unspoken language only the two of you understand. Your hearts are burning, aching with desire, but you don’t dare act on it. You don’t deserve him. At least, that’s what you tell yourself to maintain restraint.

“Can I put it on you?” he asks, pointing to the piece of jewelry in your hand.

“Oh! Yeah, sure.” A white glow emits from your fist and when you open your palm, Jungkook sees the necklace is spotless. You hand it to him and shift positions, so your back is towards him. He scoots closer, his legs now dangling off the bed.

When he brushes your hair away, your body tenses up. You see the gold chain from above before it settles on your collarbone. Jungkook leans in, getting a better view of the clasp but struggles to attach it. Seconds tick by like hours, but you don’t mind how long he takes. His hot breath on the nape of your neck is distracting you anyway.

“Almost got it…” he mumbles. And thank goodness too because you didn’t realize you were holding your breath the entire time. Once he’s finished, he leans back but you turn your head to the side and almost end up kissing him.

“Oh sorry, I—” You move away, but he places his hand on the back of your neck, holding you in place.

“Stay.”

Stay still? Stay with him? Whatever he meant, it sounded like a command, a challenge, a test. You’re entranced by how close he is, your nose about to touch his, and his lips—fuck. They’re drawing near, but he stops a centimeter away and smirks like a damn tease. You swear you’re on fire, the heat radiating off his body further exacerbating things.

His eyes droop down, but it’s not to your lips. Rather, he takes his free hand and holds the double moon charms between his forefinger and thumb, sliding it until it’s positioned in the center.

“There,” he says, still far too close. There’s a deep yearning in his eyes, a passion he longs to share with you, but he’s holding himself back. “Don’t go anywhere.”

You pout. “What, suddenly you’re okay with me around?”

“Seeing you drives me mad, but not seeing you makes me insane,” An aw almost slips out of you, but you nod instead. “I’m trying so hard to hate you…” he whispers.

You match his volume. “Why?”

“Because it’s easier than admitting the opposite.” He finally releases his hold and leans back, allowing you to regain a semblance of sanity. “So where are we exactly?”

You fiddle with your necklace and try not to dwell on his words. “I used a teleportation spell and it took us here.”

“Randomly?”

“No. I didn’t know what to do, so I cast a spell to take me to Professor Jin. He’s here with Namjoon. They’re on vacation.”

All of a sudden Jungkook groans and he’s clutching his abdomen. “Ah fuck...”

You jump out of your seat to examine him closer. “What’s going on?”

Sweat forms on his upper lip, his body temperature rising steadily as if someone turned on the heater to its max. It’s an all too familiar feeling. He laughs at the horrid timing, but it exacerbates his pain.

“I’m going to need you to learn a new spell,” he says, panting so much you fear he’d pass out.

“Why?”

“Because I’m about to go into a rut,” he answers, glaring at you like you’ve made a grave mistake, “and I don’t have boxing to distract me anymore.”

“Do you want me to help—”

“No,” You can’t help but feel offended, and undesired, but he adds, “I don’t want to take advantage of you. It’s not right.”

“Okay…” You rub your arm and like the keen observer he was, he tacks on another thing and you’re not sure if he’s trying to make you feel better or himself.

“I don’t give consent because it’s out of my control. Our time together shouldn’t be influenced or pressured because of other circumstances.”

You almost laugh at the hilarity of that statement. “Isn’t that the whole basis of our relationship? Everything always comes with a condition. This is exactly why I left…”

Jungkook’s pained expression morphs into something worse—dismay. You go for damage control, wishing you could take those words back and shove them far into the depths of your mind where they couldn’t hurt anyone.

“I’m sorry,” you say, full of regret, “I shouldn’t have said that. If you say no, I understand. It’s a no.”

“It’s fine. Not like you’re wrong. Can you go get Jin please?”

Jungkook’s Point Of View

I want to tear these bandages off. And then my skin. It’s too damn hot and the timer on my sanity is dwindling. The snow outside looks inviting and is the only blanket I want covering me.

A knock on the door garners my attention and [Y/N] rushes in, carrying something silver between her fingers.

“Sorry for the wait, I got it!” Fuck, she smells incredible. There’s nothing on Earth that can compare to her delicate, sweet aroma. It’s my Kryptonite, my guilty pleasure. Once she draws near, I pin her to the bed, ignoring the soreness of the muscles I was supposed to be recuperating. “Jungkook?”

I snuggle into the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent like some deranged pervert as I squeeze her hip. The closest description is like a honey-sweet fruit, ripe for picking. But fruit bruises easily when they fall into the wrong hands. And now she’s in mine.

She whimpers softly, and it only further fuels my arousal. “It shouldn’t be this easy yet your hold over me is… pathetic.”

I hover over her face and bring a hand up to squeeze her cheeks, forcing her lips to pucker. Cute.

“Do you know what filthy things I want to do to you? I’ve been fantasizing for years about this moment,” I say, unable to contain my smirk. Her chest heaves against mine and the panic that flashes across her face is adorable. I loosen my grip a bit so she can reply.

“Tell me then,” she breathes and I chuckle at how wobbly her voice sounds.

“I wanna fuck you like I hate you. It’s not going to be that tender bullshit, I’m going to be rough. I’m going to use you and all your holes until you’re screaming and I’m the only one that occupies your thoughts, so you can see the hell you put me through when you left. I’m going to bring you to heaven only to drag you back down to Earth and make you sin harder.”

I can smell much more than fear coming from her silence. Her fingers are clutching what I can now see is a silver body chain. She’s fast, but I’m faster as I pin her wrist down before she can put it on me. Her hand is hanging over the edge of the bed and I grip her wrist, upping the pressure and twisting slightly until she groans in pain, dropping the chain. It falls with a soft clink and I give her an amused grin.

“Was that mediocre thing supposed to quell my urges?” I taunt.

“Ideally, yes,” she remarks, unable to hide her bratty attitude. “Let me put it on you.”

“No.”

She gives me a look like I’m a bad child about to be put on time-out. Maybe I want to be bad. “Jungkook.”

“Come on… you said it yourself. You want to help,” I use my thigh to part her legs. “I’m in desperate need of it.”

She scoots her body upwards to get away, but like a parasite, I latch on and follow, pressing my entire body weight on her. “Jungkook, no. You said no. This isn’t you.”

“Oh, but what if it is?” She stops squirming and my eyes widen like I’ve gone insane, glad to have her attention. “What if this dark, twisted, horny part of me is who I am? What if I want to ravage you and my rut is simply pushing me to finally not hold back on loving you?”

“You… love me?”

Somehow that question pulls me from the depths of lust for a split second. “I never stopped.”

There’s a silent period where we stare at each other. Sometimes I think we’d hold the world record for how long one can zone out, lost in a world of our own. But my needs resurface, clouding my mind with crazed lust. I’m corrupted by something I can’t control and no matter how hard I resist, she’ll be in the crossfire.

She must have noticed her small window of opportunity because she pushed me off with her inhumane strength. I bounce on the mattress when I land on my back as she scrambles to grab the chain off the floor. She makes a break for the door, but I block it, tackling her to the ground so I can feel her soft body against mine again.

We tussle and roll around like animals, the chain flying across the floor during the scuffle. It’s a wild game of Capture The Flag, each of us diving for the coveted item. She’s on her stomach, crawling towards it until I take her ankles and drag her backward, cackling like a madman. And like in horror movies, she screams and squirms, kicking me until I let go.

She drags her body forward, snatches the chain, flips around, and clamps her thighs around my head. Her strong muscles could probably break a watermelon, but I welcome the constriction.

“Ooh, yes, make it hurt,” I choke out, wheezing out a short laugh. Revulsion in her scowl, she cages me in tighter, and I pull back so she slides towards me. Using my remaining strength, I lift her so she’s now perched atop my shoulders, her sweet pussy right where I want it. I dart my tongue out to lick a stripe, the barrier of her leggings so thin that she yelps from the contact.

I’m on my knees and I move forward, pressing her back against the wall. It supports her weight and I pin her hands down, so she can’t sneak the chain on me. She’s shouting at me, but I only hum in return, so she can feel the vibrations of my lips close to her lower ones.

“Jungkook, let me go!”

“I can already taste you… such arrogance to think you can handle me.”

I look up through her thighs, earning a sharp inhale from her. “Trust me… I’ve been holding back.”

She chants foreign words under her breath and my ears soon discover a sharp ringing noise, making my brain feel like it’s being shredded by a cheese grater. I hold my head with both hands, toppling over and releasing her as we both fall to the floor. When the cacophony subsides, I see she’s standing above me with the lamp. She’s ruthless as she smashes it against my head, the glass shards scattering everywhere.

I lay on my stomach, dazed, and she put the chain on me hastily. It glows as it erases all forms of rage and lust, and my mind clears while my soul aligns. That’s when the painful sensations of my injuries I had ignored earlier hit me in full force.

With impeccable timing, the door to our room swings open, and in comes Jin and Namjoon. Jin has his arms up in a fighting pose, his hands encasing two pink orbs prepared for attack. Namjoon has his crossbow gun pointed at me until [Y/N] waves him off with a dismissive gesture.

“You’re a bit late. Put it down.”

The orbs flicker out and Namjoon lowers his weapon, being the first to speak. “What happened?”

“Things got… rough. I put the chain on him. He’s fine now.”

“Easy for you to say,” I mutter. “Can someone please get the first aid kit? I’m bleeding again…”

Your Point of View

Jin’s making it a point to be hospitable. He dragged you around the lodge, indulging you in all the amenities the lodge offers. From paying for your food and drinks to complimentary snowboarding, it was almost like he was overcompensating.

While he was gracefully swerving down the hill, you spent most of your time falling face-first into the snow, frustrated at the bulky clothes you had on. You called it quits and he finally yielded to your pleas.

Back at the lodge, you shed yourself of your multiple layers, feeling like an onion. At least now you can caramelize by the fireplace in the lobby while sipping on a piping-hot cup of cocoa.

Jin makes his presence known, plopping himself onto the same futon where you sat with a refreshed “Ah, hot cocoa. Delicious!”

You roll your eyes when he holds his mug out, but you clink your cup against his anyway. “I hope you and Namjoon had your fun in the shower. That’s a nasty hickey.”

He coughs, adjusting his turtleneck to cover up said blemish. “Sorry. I didn’t know you would need me.”

“It’s fine,” you say, glancing around for any unwanted spectators. You whisper the next part. “I grabbed your spellbook and did it myself.”

He bears a proud smile, looking like he is about to deliver well-deserved praises when suddenly, his expression falls. Setting down his beverage, he seemed rather pale despite being near the fireplace. He looks up at the night sky and you follow his gaze. “Oh shit…”

You set down your drink too, paying no mind as it sloshes enough to spill over. “Jin… what’s wrong?”

“It’s a full moon…”

“Yeah. And?”

He shoots up like a rocket and sprints upstairs to his room. You follow at once, off-put by his erratic behavior. He’s found his spellbook on the bed where you left it, flipping through the pages so quickly, you thought they’d rip. Once he settles on the desired section, he shoves the book in your face.

“Is this the spell you used?!”

You eye the page in its fancy script, seeing the same picture of a wolf howling under the moon. “Yes. It says Binding Chain at the top and I read it. It suppresses a male’s rut.”

“Did you see the fine print?”

“There’s a fine print?” you echo. Skimming the page, you squint at the very bottom to see an anecdote at the bottom marked with an asterisk. You read it out loud. “On the night of a full moon, the binding chain’s powers are reversed. Rather than suppressing a rut, the male’s urges will be amplified…”

The book shuts and you’re greeted by Jin’s stern look. It’s the same one he gave you that time you set his hair on fire by accident. “The closer it gets to midnight, the more unhinged Jungkook will be. This is why you should’ve asked me for help.”

“How was I supposed to know? He was in pain and you were bumping uglies with Namjoon!”

“Spells like this are tricky, especially for novices. We don’t even know if you did it right.”

“Gee, thanks for the bode of confidence.”

A concerned voice from the doorway calls out to you and Jin. “Whoa, whoa, what’s going on here?”

You both turn to see Namjoon in his winter gear, covered in snow like he was a dessert dusted with powdered sugar. Jin walks over and brushes some off his furry hat. “[Y/N] used the wrong spell for Jungkook. His rut is about to come back tenfold and it won’t be pretty.”

“It’s not my fault,” you argue. “If you and he weren’t fucking each other, this wouldn’t have happened!”

“Okay… this is horrible timing,” Namjoon says with a forced awkward laugh. Jin holds him by the shoulders.

“Honey… where’s Jungkook?”

“I… lost something important when we got here. Jungkook and I went out to look for it. I gave up, but he’s stubborn and is still out there.”

You look out the window and see the snowfall getting heavier, each flake larger and more frequent as it piles on the thick blanket that already covers the ground. Visibility was diminishing and you could barely see the outline of the moon in the sky.

“I’m going to get him,” you say, determined. They look at you like you have three heads. “I’m the only one who can handle him on a night like this.”

“It’s dangerous. The snow is getting worse out there,” Namjoon warns.

“Yeah, and whose fault is it that he’s still out there? He may be immortal, but he has limits too.”

Namjoon recognizes your stubbornness; you share that with Jungkook. He pulls out his phone, hastily texts something, and sends it, which triggers a chime on your phone.

“There’s a cabin out there that I use on my missions sometimes. You’ll find a cage in the basement that can hold Jungkook for the night. Food, water, clothes, sedatives, weapons—you name it.”

He offers you his crossbow gun, but you decline. “I can get through to him.”

“Are you sure?”

“No. But… It doesn’t feel right to hurt him. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay. Stay safe. We’ll come find you in the morning.”

Winter is the superior season, some would say. Because with the cold, you can layer clothes nonstop until you’re warm. Newsflash: that’s a lie. You’re freezing your ass off despite your best efforts to combat the frost, but Mother Nature couldn’t resist challenging your limits.

The weather has taken a turn for the worse as snow swirls around you, making it difficult to see or hear anything. You trudge through it, the flame in your palm being the only source of light and heat as harsh gusts of wind threaten to extinguish it.

Your magic was technically infinite, considering your necklace was a conductor for it. The jewelry siphons the magic from your hybrid body and allows you to use it like a witch would. However, like with most things, if you overdo it, it drains your energy and weakens its potency.

When you reach the forest, the wind howls through the trees as your breath comes out in heavy puffs. Each step you take sinks deeper than the previous one until you’re knee-deep in snow. The ground is uneven and your steps slow because even the slightest misstep could be your last. With no one around for miles, this was not the way you wanted to go out.

You don’t know how much time has passed, but the flame flickers until darkness remains.

“No… no… please…” You wrap your arms around yourself, the biting cold unforgiving. A rustle in the distance alerts your fight-or-flight and you scan your surroundings, seeing a dark silhouette who you can only assume is… “Jungkook?”

Whoever it was burst into a sudden sprint in the opposite direction. Your body has a mind of its own, chasing him down without hesitation. You reach a clearing where his broad back faces you, the moon casting a soft glow behind his figure. He turns around, revealing his ruby red eyes with streaks of gold, which sparkle like luster dust in water.

His face is unreadable until you risk a step forward.

“Don’t come closer!” he barks, startling you to retract back. The hurt in your eyes breaks him, but he couldn’t bear to be a burden for you to shoulder. “I feel like I’m going crazy. You shouldn’t be here.”

“It’s the full moon. The body chain is making things worse. I can—”

“No!” He bares his teeth and bends his knees as if preparing to pounce. “You need to leave. Now!”

Falling onto all fours, he lets out a strangled groan, cursing like there was no tomorrow. His bones snap, pop out of place, and lengthen to create a new foundation for his werewolf form. It was like all his organs were set ablaze, the searing pain shooting throughout his body. You deny his request and take another step.

“Stay… away!” he orders, his voice roughed and strained.

His head hangs low, clawing the snow beneath him. Though shapeshifting was a great distraction, doing so during a rut could have unpredictable circumstances. It was far too dangerous; he knew better but was desperate for relief.

“Run…” he breathes, lifting his head. Your legs tremble from his unwavering, lethal gaze. “Run!!!” His canines peek through when he growls at you once more and you are hit with the severity of the situation. Fear strikes through you like a javelin and combined with your rush of adrenaline, you escape the premises.

Everything is a blur as you zig-zag through the snow-capped trees in the forest. You don’t stop running until your lungs burn to the point where you’re about to vomit. Despite how numb your fingers are, you check your phone, looking up the location of the cabin. It’s not too far away and if you can manage to lure Jungkook there, he’ll be safe for the night.

An eerie howl startles you and you trek forward, looking over your shoulder every so often. It’s not until you come across a line of forestry, where there’s a gap in the middle of two trees. Upon closer inspection, you squint at the darkness that sits between them, and two glowy orbs greet you.

A low snarl sends chills up your spine as two black paws emerge into the moonlight before their true form follows. You’re face to face with the big black wolf, its eyes glowing with feral intensity. The body chain’s magic allowed for the accessory to enlarge, accommodating Jungkook’s new size.

“Jungkook…”

He doesn’t respond, almost like that name was foreign to him. All he does is crouch, and you start to regret not having a weapon. With a growl, he lunges at you, powerful muscles rippling under his fur. You barely dodge in time, but his claws graze your arm, ripping through my coat and drawing blood.

Damn. I’m getting sloppy. I need blood.

You clutch onto the wound, hissing at him as your eyes shift to fiery gold. “Stop! Jungkook, it’s me!”

He circles you like a shark, instilling more fear before he pounces again. His heavy weight forces your body to topple backward, the snow cushioning your fall, and soon stained a vivid crimson. Jungkook had bitten your shoulder this time, his fangs sinking deep.

Not even your blood-curdling scream dissuades him from prying his jaw off. You feel the prick of tears behind your eye, but you push through it, using your remaining good arm to punch him. The wolf is hurled about twenty feet away and you force yourself up.

“Okay… it’s clear you’re more beast than man right now…” you say, panting as more blood trickles onto the snow. The wolf shakes its head and slowly rises, its predatory gaze stripping you of your fortitude.

Just then a deep rumble beneath your feet alerts you to look up, where the heart of the mountain was. The signs are there: the snowpack drifting, ominous cracks in the ground, and a thunderous roar as snow cascades down the landform.

“Shit…” you say, running in the opposite direction. “Come on! Chase me!”

Thankfully you don’t have to ask twice. Jungkook’s hot on your trail as the snow is on his. The ground continues to shake, the avalanche's roar deafening, drowning out all other sounds. Both your lives are at stake and you run to the cabin up ahead, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

As you reach the door, you swipe the keycard Namjoon lent you, the faint click giving you a moment of reprieve. You throw the door open at the same time Jungkook tackles you from behind. You stumble forward, his weight crushing you as he slashes your back with his sharp claws.

Now you’re pissed.

You flip onto your back, clutching his paws while his jaw snaps towards your face, spit flying everywhere.

“God, Jungkook! Get a grip!” You grunt as you exert your muscles, throwing him into the living room area. A wooden table is smashed into bits and the TV screen has a crack down the middle, but you don’t care. You kick the door shut just as the avalanche slams into the ground outside, its force shaking the cabin walls.

The noise is overwhelming, but it distracts the beast long enough for you to search for the basement. The cabin’s small space makes it easy as one narrow door sits in the corner, so you try your luck. There’s a set of steep, wooden stairs and you descend quickly, seeing dim recess ceiling lights that cast a soft yellow glow.

Unlike the cabin, the basement was underground and wide, with ample space for the cage Namjoon had promised. It’s in the furthest left corner with thick chains attached to the floor and ceiling. A workbench greets you once you reach the last step, filled with various weapons and tranquilizers you were all too familiar with.

Due to his hybrid nature, your best bet is to grab the syringe with vervain and wolfsbane. Reassurance is but a fleeting moment when Jungkook descends the stairs too, determined to finish you off.

He bites your leg this time, and you jam the syringe into his neck simultaneously. Once the wolf loses consciousness, you stumble backward and hit your head on the edge of the workbench, drifting into darkness.

Jungkook’s Point of View

Something wet touches my fingers and it stirs me awake. My muscles are screaming, feeling like I have been hit by a semi-truck. I open my eyes, forcing myself to sit up and look at my hands.

“Oh my god…”

Red is all I see. I’m covered in it. My lips taste it. But I don’t remember how it got there and that scares me. However, I look over to see [Y/N]’s unconscious body next to me. The blood is hers, pooling from her head and her body looks like a corpse from a crime scene. I’m terrified now, crawling over to her while my body shakes.

“No… please.”

I saw the gruesome claw marks on her arm, the nasty bites on her shoulder and leg, and her head wound that was still bleeding. I lift her head first, then her back, seeing the scratches there too. I don’t know what to do other than hold her close, listening for signs of life. It’s faint, but she’s breathing.

“Who did this to you?” I breathe, but the question is stupid. I’m covered in evidence of my crimes, a sin with no solution. Her face looks sickly, so I bite my wrist and put it against her lips, forcing her to drink my blood for sustenance.

I choke out a sob when I don’t see a difference.

“I’m so sorry…” I kiss the top of her head, praying to anyone who hears it, to bring her back to me.

“Jungkook…”

I thought I was hearing things until she calls for me again. It’s a fucking miracle. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean… I didn’t mean to…”

“Shh… haven’t you heard of kissing a person’s boos-boos?” Her lips curl into a faint smile and I’m thrown for a loop. How can she speak so lightly about the horrors I’ve committed?

“You must have a concussion. I need to patch you up.”

“No. Kiss my wounds, silly. Just like you did to my head.”

I was too distraught to realize, but the blood on the rug we were on had vanished. Her hair no longer smells of iron either and realization dawns on me.

“Okay. Let me help you get out of your clothes first.”

It’s not a smooth process, but she handles it like a champ as I maneuver her coat, shirt, and tank top off. I pause every so often when she winces, making sure she’s comfortable before I move on. Her boots come off next and then her leggings, leaving her only in her undergarments.

Lying her flat on her back, I get on top and kiss her shoulder area first. It’s a magical sight watching the wound seal itself as new skin regenerates while the blood evaporates. She coos at the relief, giving me a warm smile.

“That feels nice.”

I head for her arm next, giving it several smooches to cover the claw marks. Each one repairs itself the same way. I lean back on my knees, holding her leg up until it reaches my lips and I leave another kiss there. Her eyes shimmer in excitement as do mine when the bite heals.

“Can you turn around for me?” I ask. She gets on all fours, exposing her back to me. It was the nastiest injury yet, the laceration deep and red. I don’t care and kiss every inch of her skin until it goes away, noticing how she shivers each time.

Once she’s fully healed, I see a cage in the corner and eye the chains inside. I get up and head there, frantically trying to get the cuffs on. She follows me and I curse at my shaky hands for being too slow.

“What are you doing now?” she asks as if it’s not obvious.

“Damn it all, why can’t I get this on?!” She places her hands on mine, steadying them until they stop trembling. “[Y/N], please. I need to be chained up. It’s dangerous for you to be here, I almost killed you!”

“But you didn’t. I’m fine. I knew the risks.”

“Why didn’t you beat me senseless? I deserved it.”

She shakes her head, still able to give me a soft smile as if I didn’t try to maul her to death however long ago. “Because your rut… it’s not easy to deal with. And I couldn’t stand the thought of hurting you. Besides, I messed up on the spell.”

She points to the body chain on me. “On a full moon, it amplifies your rut. Not suppress it.”

I drop the cuffs and grab the body chain instead, ready to yank it off when she snatches my wrists.

“Don’t,” she orders. “I want it on.”

My eyes widen. “This thing almost got you killed.”

“It’s hot on you.”

“Are you okay? Is your head fully healed? Why are you—”

She pecks me on the lips to shut me up. It’s cute, sweet, and simple. Sometimes I wish we were simple.

“Jungkook… ever since I saw you at the wedding, I haven’t been able to heal properly,” she confesses.

My hands drop to my sides. “What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wasn’t sure. But whenever I got a cut, it healed but not as fast as it usually did. And I thought about when I got hurt at the wedding, how you kissed my hand, and how fast it healed then. This has never happened to me before, but I realized… I can’t be without you.”

She caresses the side of my face and I shiver at her gentle touch, placing a chaste kiss on her palm. “No… you were right to leave. I’m dangerous.”

A finger comes up to my lips. “Shh… our fates are entwined whether you like it or not, you stupid bastard,” I can’t help but chuckle and she giggles. It lights up my world. “When you said you never stopped loving me back at the lodge… were you serious?”

“As a heart attack,” Her expression is teetering between fondness and confusion. “Sorry, that’s not romantic, huh?”

“It is to me. I love you too.”

Her confession triggers something in me. It's a carnal, animalistic need and I realize my rut is surging back with renewed intensity.

“My love, I need you to make a choice,” I say with labored breathing. Sweat coats my hair, matting it to my forehead. My body feels like I’m being incinerated inside out. “I want you permanently. Not temporarily. Body and soul. Your devotion. If you stay…”

“I’ll stay. I promise,” she says without a trace of hesitation. But I can’t help but be reminded of the past.

“How do I know you won’t leave again?”

She ponders her answer but then says, “Because when I’m not focused on my future, I’m focused on ours.”

It brings me immense joy, but my lust drowns it out.

“Okay. We’re going to need a safe word. Or you need to promise you’ll defend yourself against me by any means if it becomes too much.”

“Jungkook—”

“I mean it. Because everything I said at the lodge was true. Everything.”

She wets her lips at the memory, which tempts me with depravity. “Are you okay if I’m still infertile?”

“I never minded it. Because I’m going to fuck you like I’m gonna breed you anyway.”

She nods. “... Red.”

“Red,” I repeat and then I’m all over her.

Your Point of View

Jungkook lunges at you, his movements a blur of desperate need. You’re pressed against the iron bars of the cage as he kisses you like he’ll devour you whole. His hands roam your body to tear off your bra and panties, and you gasp, but he swallows it by kissing you deeper.

His hands are greedy, kneading your breasts in circular motions. He twists one of your nipples with his forefinger and thumb, the sensation borderlining pain and pleasure, but you succumb to it. Especially when he stops kissing you to lower himself, sucking on your other nipple. He doesn’t hold back and tugs on it between his teeth, earning a mewl from you.

When he pulls back, he releases it with an audible pop before giving the other one the same treatment. Your hands run through his hair, gripping hard enough to make him moan with hunger. He pushes your breasts together, so he’s able to suck both nipples simultaneously. The sight enraptures you, and you swear he’s the most attractive man alive.

“I can’t wait, I need you now. I need you many… many times tonight,” he says after he’s left several purple constellations in his wake. You’re turned around, holding onto the bars for support as his bicep slithers around your neck. His lips find purchase on the shell of your ear. “God, I want to destroy you.”

He slips his thick cock in between your thighs, feeling the copious amount of slickness between your folds. He thrusts back and forth and you rock your hips in tandem, appreciating his restraint. Each time his tip brushes against your clit, you moan to the ceiling while he groans against your neck.

You’re sensitive, on the brink of an orgasm, but Jungkook comes first. White spurts of cum spill out from his tip, and he shudders when you use your hand to coax out more.

“Fuck, I can’t hold on anymore. I’d do more to prep you, but I can’t wait. I’m sorry.”

Despite coming already, Jungkook was still fully erect. You swore he might’ve even gained an inch. He was deliciously massive, blessed in both girth and length.

“It’s okay. I can take it,” you assure.

“If it’s too much?”

“I say red.”

Jungkook holds onto your hips and pulls you back, your body now parallel to the floor at a ninety-degree angle. You arch your back and stick your ass out for him, even going far as to shake your peach to tantalize him. Without needing to guide it, he slams his dick into you with such violence that it leaves you winded.

He wastes no time thrusting, his pace desperate, rushed, and greedy to satisfy an insatiable hunger. You’re holding onto the bars for dear life as he fucks you like it’s his last day on Earth. There’s a burn that comes with not having time to adjust to his inhumane size, but you endure. Lust covers a world of hurt and the stretch ignites a fervor.

The basement is filled with sounds of skin slapping against skin and unabashed moaning. Jungkook grips your hips so tight, they bruise. He smacks your ass multiple times, each sting resulting in a tighter clench from your soaking pussy, which drives him wild. You love how he stretches you out, how he’s using you like a dumb fucktoy for his cravings. You want to please him because it pleases you.

Without warning, he pistons into you faster, and you can barely see straight. His last thrust is sharp and calculated, a rough grunt escaping him as he empties himself into you. Your legs are trembling when he pulls out, admiring how his cum oozes out of you.

Sliding down to the ground, you rest your back against the cage and close your eyes to catch a break. However, Jungkook smacks your cheeks a couple of times to get your attention. He’s erect again, no surprise. You swear with each orgasm, he’s getting bigger.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“Good girl.”

He places a hand on your head, guiding your lips to his throbbing cock. It’s coated in shared body fluids, but you open your mouth like an automated response until he slides himself in. You gag when he hits the back of your throat and he pulls out, but not all the way. You have to mentally prepare yourself for what comes next as he grabs ahold of both sides of your head, fucking your face as he pleases.

You’re choking and saliva dribbles down to your breasts, your eyes sting with tears, but he keeps going and you take the abuse. He doesn’t hold your head lovingly. Rather, his hand cages you in, guiding you however he sees fit. Your jaw is sore, but that’s a small price to pay when you have the most gorgeous man throwing his head back in bliss because of you.

Once his hips stutter and he comes again, you swallow the slightly bitter fluid and he releases you.

“Get up.”

You’re a bit dizzy, so he helps you to your feet. You see him squat and bring your legs atop his shoulders. In one swift motion, he stands with you perched atop and you squeal, holding his head in fear of falling.

“Jungkook!”

“Hold onto the cage.”

You don’t question him and do just that, thinking about how this was the same way you took down your opponent back at the farm. However, the only danger here was Jungkook having you right where he wanted you.

He sticks his tongue out and begins lapping up your juices from earlier. You’re unable to process being suspended in the air while getting eaten out at the same time. It’s thrilling, and you almost sob when he invades your walls and tongue-fucks you. The slurping noises that leave him are obscene. It’s as if you were his last meal, which only coaxes out more arousal. It’s too much when your orgasm nears, but he grabs your ass tighter and everything snaps.

You’re screaming his name, rolling your eyes in the back of your head. Your ears ring, your toes curl, and you shut your eyes to ride the waves of bliss. You don’t even realize when you’re back on the ground because it feels like you’re not even on the same planet anymore.

And suddenly you’re in the air again. Jungkook grabs the underside of your thighs and lifts you, your legs perched around his waist and your hands around his neck. He uses one hand to guide his tip to your entrance, and your breath hitches.

“We’re not done yet.”

“I never want you to be. Use me.”

He sinks you onto his cock, bouncing you like a rag doll. You hold each other close, staring intensely into each other’s eyes. Everything burns inside Jungkook’s body. His thighs, his arms, his heart—but that pain fuels him to fuck you harder. You kiss him first this time, inserting your tongue and sliding it against his. It’s sloppy but erotic, and he only ups his speed.

He doesn’t last long and comes again, but you wait until he decides to put you down. You’re on your back now and he places a sweet kiss on your forehead.

“God, I wanna fill you up again. Breed you until you’re exhausted.”

He has hold of your ankles, bringing them up high until your knees hug your chest as he inserts himself again. You can see his fat cock going in and out of you, his cock creamy and white from your slick. Your tummy bulges with each thrust, but the nightmarish visual is, somehow, incredibly sexy. He makes you feel full, yet you can’t seem to get enough.

“Fuck, how are you still going?” you whimper. He chuckles like he’s flattered, lowering your legs so he can lay flat on top, chest to chest. You’re both sweaty and reek of sex, but it feels right.

“Because you’re my soulmate. I’m going to ravish you.”

Hours pass. He’s more beast than man at this point, almost unrecognizable. This wasn’t making love. He was determined to fuck your brains out.

Every position imaginable, no part of your body went unexplored. If you were a country, he was a sergeant invading every part of you. You’re bruised and full of bloody scratches, but so was he.

Whenever you were nearing the possibility of passing out, he found a way to give you a break. Whether by humping your thighs again or using your hands, he didn’t care. You’re soaked in his cum, a sticky, filthy mess that he deemed beautiful. He took pride in his work like you were his canvas for a Jackson Pollock painting.

His boundless energy inspired him to get creative, making use of the cage’s chains. He had you dangle from the ceiling as he fucked you from the front. From the back. In your ass.

If he thought you were tight before, your ass was a whole other story. You’d never taken something so big. It took a while for you to relax and though lube was ideal, the copious amounts of cum he filled you with earlier worked fine. More than fine. Something about him shoving his two fingers in you to draw out his cum to finger your asshole felt lecherous. You swore you were going to tear in half, but when his tip brushed sweet spots you didn’t know existed, you came harder than the previous times.

Now you are on all fours, his hand in your hair, locking you in the humiliating position. He penetrates deep inside, loving the way your ass jiggles every time your bodies meet. You’ve been reduced to a moaning mess, unable to think about anything but his cock.

You’re saying “Yes, yes, yes!” but the words are slurred, reduced to pure nonsense, thanks to his brutal movements. His thrusts are merciless, repeatedly hitting you in that sweet spot with no signs of slowing down unless he changes positions.

“Fuck, this is it,” he grunts. He carefully pulls out, lies on his side, and brings you close so you’re on your side too. Lifting your leg, he slides into you again and resumes penetration. This time when he comes, you can see your belly expand from how much he fills you up. His monstrous cock swells and you whine from the discomfort, feeling like you’re about to pop.

“It hurts,” you cry. Jungkook cuddles you as his knot takes form, ensuring no cum spills out.

“I know, love. It’ll be okay.” He litters your neck with kisses to distract you from the pain until you’re used to his new size. You’ve never felt so full and can’t believe you’re stuck like this for who knows how long. It’s a phony moment of reprieve, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Once the pain subsides, you lay there as he hugs you, feeling his chest on your back. He holds your hand, intertwining his fingers in yours. You take this chance to look at his tattoos, noticing one stand out in particular.

“What’s this?” you ask.

You’re pointing to a tattoo of a lake with mountains that have a full moon situated between them on his forearm.

“Oh, that? It’s where I first fell for Namjoon when he sparred with me.” His playful lilt makes you pout.

“Hey…”

Jungkook kisses your shoulder and grins. “That’s where I first fell for you, silly. And where I fell for you again the night of the wedding. I contemplated getting rid of it, but… I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

“Aw…” A question pops into your mind that you’ve been dying to ask. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Why did you have vervain on you that day? Why carry the burden of knowing?”

He hums like he was expecting that question. “Because I know you too well and maybe… I wanted to keep that pain because it was my last link to you. I couldn’t give that up.” He turns your face so you’ll look up at him. “I love you, [Y/N].”

Saying those three words back again didn’t feel like enough. He was your one and you wanted to spend eternity with him.

“Mark me. Make me yours for good.”

His doe eyes form an OJO face, which earns a laugh from you. Despite all that’s happened, this manages to surprise him.

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

He nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck, and you allow him to mark you as his.

The next morning you and Jungkook are cleaned up, cuddling by the fireplace in the living room area.

“Why is there a saxophone over there?” you ask, pointing to the random instrument near the door.

“You know what… I’m not sure.” Jungkook gets up, walks over to it, and picks it up. The face he makes while examining it is endearing, but you’re curious when he reaches his hand in the bell of the instrument. “I feel something.”

He pulls out something small, but you recognize the diamond instantly. “Is that a wedding ring?”

His face morphs into panic. “It’s not for you,” he blurts. You giggle and approach him, swiping the ring.

“I know that, silly. You wouldn’t propose to me here.”

He visibly relaxes, rubbing the back of his nape, cheeks flushed. “It’s Namjoon’s.”

“Oh! Is this what he asked you to help him find? Is he going to propose to Jin? How sweet!”

A strange hissing noise distracts you two, and you turn your attention to the window. The snow from the avalanche is melting rapidly and soon, the door opens, revealing the couple you were just talking about.

“We’re here!” Jin shouts with his arms out in a ta-da position.

“Again… you’re a little late,” you tease. Namjoon strides in, taking a look at the damage you two inflicted in the small space.

“Geez… what did you two do?”

“What didn’t we do?” Jungkook says, giving you a wink. You can only laugh as you playfully hit his shoulder.

The clothes the cabin had were a size too big on you, so they drooped on your small frame. Namjoon and Jin are quick to notice the bite mark on your exposed shoulder and how it solidified into something akin to a tattoo.

“Oh… Oh,” Jin says, realization hitting him as his ears turn red. “Congratulations!”

“Well, we should congratulate you too,” Jungkook says, giving Namjoon a pointed look. The man is confused at first, but then nods once he feels you slip the metal item into his palm. He’s ecstatic and immediately grabs the saxophone. You and Jungkook grin while his rather awkward proposal plays out, with Jin mostly unaffected and choosing to criticize his partner’s clothing choices instead.

“Hey! I practiced hard for you and you only talk about my clothes?!” Namjoon says, but the smile he wears lets you know he’s not hurt. Jin laughs and hugs him.

“I’m touched!”

Namjoon finally gets down on one knee and pops the question. “Will you marry me then?”

Now Jin’s entire face is flushed. “Oh my god… of course, my gentle giant.”

Jungkook and you give each other a knowing look, wondering when your turn will come next. He holds your hand and you lay your head on his shoulder.

“That’ll be us someday,” he says.

“I know. But I’m not in a rush. I’m already yours.”

General A/N: Hello!!! Thank you for reading until the end. I appreciate reblogs and asks if you wanna share your thoughts. 💘

Moonstruck Readers A/N: So for those who are curious, I was going to include NamJin’s wedding where Taehyung shows up and he sees OC and JK together. And that could lead to a whole other spiral of feelings. ;) But I’m not promising to write it. This is their happy ending and OC and JK do get married eventually.

Or if you’re like my friend who keeps saying TaeKook should both be with OC, well, that’s in another universe I guess. LOL!

#ggukienet #jungkook smut #jungkook #bts smut #bts scenarios #jungkook x you #jungkook fic #bts x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook scenarios #my scenarios

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