#deadly sanctuary

[ashyabi]

Gill’e cadith 1st mini album show promotional flyer

[oldjrockmemes]

[octopunkmedia]

The Octopunk Showcase is this Saturday!

It's finally time to share all the lovely things Octopunk Media has in store for the rest of 2023, including:

The world premiere trailer for our next feature film Livescreamers, starring Michael Smallwood, Chris Trindade, Sarah Callahan Black, and an ensemble of new faces

Updates on Fallout Sanctuary, our upcoming ten episode animated series in the Fallout 4 universe

Details on a new charity campaign!

Redbubble Merch Store overhaul, with more merch options for Detroit Evolution, Seven Deadly Synths, Detroit Evoot, and more!

New announcements for existing and future projects

And one BIIIIIIG SURPRISE!

Come join us on Twitch this Saturday June 24 at 12PM ET!

[girlrotterr]

Hunt.

ellie x fem!reader TW!: mentions of violence and blood. Summary: You were tasked with tracking a female trespasser who has been causing havoc on the WLF, killing numerous soldiers and stealing supplies. It was supposed to be a straightforward surveillance job. You weren't supposed to get caught... a/n: wanted to try a different genre &...I'm kinda obsessed?!?

────── · · · · ──────

As you bolted away, you muttered under your breath, "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Your heart pounded hard against your chest, making your head feel light and your vision blur at the edges.

The shadows of the dense forest seemed to close in around you, every snap of a twig and rustle of leaves increased your terror.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. She wasn’t supposed to find you! The mission from the WLF had been clear: surveillance Ellie, track her every move, and report back. For days, you’d stayed hidden, watching her every step, radioing in her location, and noting her habits.

Until she fucking caught you.

With shaking hands, you fumbled for the rifle strapped to your back, but your heavy backpack slammed against you with every stride, making it nearly impossible to grab the weapon.

Your breath came in ragged gasps as you sprinted through the forest, twigs and branches clawing at your face and arms like skeletal fingers. The forest around you being a blur of green and brown.

Suddenly, the sharp crack of gunfire echoed throughout the forest, bullets whizzing past you and thudding into the trees. Ellie was firing, her aim deadly and precise. "Goddamnit!" you gasped, terror clawing at your throat. You knew from watching her these past days just how merciless and calculated she was.

You refused to become her next victim.

You risked a glance over your shoulder and saw her slinging her shotgun over her back and drawing a pistol instead. Her movements were quick and stealthy, her eyes gleaming with a predator's intensity.

You pushed yourself harder, your legs burning and lungs screaming for air. The path ahead was treacherous, filled with roots and rocks that seemed to reach up and grab at your feet, trying to trip you. But you couldn’t stop. You couldn’t let her catch you. The memory of the cold, calculating look in her eyes as she took down her previous targets fueled your fear.

Your mind raced, searching for a way out, a place to hide, or something to give you an advantage. But the forest offered no sanctuary, only the relentless pursuit of a hunter and her prey. Your only hope was to keep running, to stay ahead of her just long enough to find a way to escape.

Ellie’s cold eyes pierced through your back, promising death if she caught up. The crack of her pistol shattered the air, a warning shot that whistled past your ear.

"f-fuck!" You gasped, quickly stumbling behind a tree.

Your breath came in ragged gasp as you frantically wrestled your heavy backpack off your shoulders. Your shaking fingers fumbled with the zipper, sending ammo tumbling onto the ground.

"Come onn, come onn," you muttered urgently, trying to steady your trembling hands as you loaded your rifle with bullets. Each click felt like a countdown to your own demise.

Ellie paused, her breath misting in the cold air as she scanned the forest. Her brow furrowed in concentration. The stillness hung heavy, broken only by rustling of leaves. She took a step forward cautiously, senses sharp and eyes darting, searching for any sign of movement or sound.

Your heart hammered in your chest, the sound thumping in your ears like a drumbeat. Your pulse thundered with the realization that she could be closing in, ready to strike. Then, with a sudden burst of courage, you steadied your aim and fired. The shot bounced off a nearby branch, missing Ellie by a hair strand.

“Shit!” She yelled frantically.

Ellie's heart raced as she ducked behind a log, fear surging through her after barely dodging your bullet. She took a moment to steady her breathing, each inhale sharp and quick.

"Damnit!" Her voice was a low growl of frustration mixed with a grudging respect for your skill. "That was close... too fucking close..."

Peering cautiously over the log, Ellie scanned for any hint of movement.

Behind the tree, your pulse thundered in your ears, heightening your senses as you prepared for Ellie's next move. With hands that trembled only slightly, you steadied your aim and squeezed the trigger, the shot echoing loudly.

Ellie reacted with quick reflexes, instinctively ducking as your bullet grazed the air where she had just been. "motherfucker..." Her curse was sharp, frustration fueling her mind.. She couldn't afford any more mistakes.

With a scoff that held a hint of admiration, Ellie retrieved her shotgun from her back, the action smooth and practiced. "I'll play your little game," she muttered darkly to herself, her gaze narrowing with deadly intent.

She carefully cocked the shotgun, the metallic sound slicing the air. Her fingers carefully curled around the trigger.

“I know you're there!" she called out, her voice ringing with command.

Suddenly, a faint rustle caught her attention—a slight to her left. Without hesitation, she swung the shotgun around and fired. The bullet rang through the trees, sending birds squawking into flight and echoing off the distant hills.

Behind the tree, you flinched as the blast tore through the air, shaking leaves loose from the branches above. Splinters of bark peppered the ground around.

"She’s batshit insane…" you muttered.

The realization dawned on you that Ellie was closing in, her determination matched only by her deadly accuracy. You had to think fast, find a way to turn the tables on her before it was too late.

On the other side, Ellie moved swiftly, her shoes crunching softly on the forest floor as she advanced. “You can't hide forever!" she shouted, her voice carrying a chilling promise.

Suddenly, Ellie's ears twitched at the distant, guttural moans that began to echo through the forest. The unmistakable sound of infected—clickers and runners—drawn by the commotion of gunfire.

"Damn it!" she cursed under her breath, her focus splitting between you and the herd. Infected were relentless, driven by primal instinct and hunger, oblivious to anything but the urge to feed.

With a quick, decisive motion, Ellie shifted her stance, her eyes darting between the direction of the approaching infected and the tree behind which she believed you were hiding. Her grip tightened on the shotgun, torn between eliminating you or infected.

You pressed your back against the rough bark of the tree, trying to steady your breathing. Your mind raced, calculating your next move. The infected were close, their unearthly cries sending chills down your spine. Every rustle of leaves and snap of twigs heightened your anxiety, urging you to make a move.

Suddenly, a runner burst through the forest, its crazed eyes locking onto Ellie. With a roar, it lunged towards her. Ellie didn't hesitate. She aimed and fired, the shotgun blast tearing through the runner's chest and sending it sprawling to the ground. The sound blared through the forest, drawing more infected towards the chaos.

Taking advantage of the distraction, you peeked out from behind the tree, spotting Ellie as she quickly reloaded her shotgun. The infected were focucsed on her position, and you knew you had a slim window of opportunity. You raised your rifle, aiming carefully.

Ellie, sensing movement, looked up just in time to see you taking aim. Her eyes widened, but she had no time to react. You pulled the trigger, the shot ringing out. The bullet grazed her arm, causing her to stumble back with a cry of pain. Blood seeped from the wound, but she remained standing, a fierce look in her eyes.

At that moment, the forest exploded into chaos. Infected surged from all directions, drawn by the gunfire and the scent of blood. Ellie fired rapidly, taking down several of the frenzied creatures, but their numbers were overwhelming.

Desperation fueled your actions as you ducked behind the tree, reloading your rifle as quickly as your shaking hands would allow.

Ellie gritted her teeth against the pain in her arm, the hot sting of the wound sharpening her focus. Realizing she had little time, she made a split-second decision. With a final blast from her shotgun to clear her immediate path, she broke into a sprint, aiming directly for your position.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you saw Ellie barreling toward you. Panic surged as you tried to lift your rifle, but before you could react, she was upon you. She grabbed your arm with a grip like iron, her eyes locking onto yours with a fierce intensity.

"They're too many of 'em!" she yelled, her voice husky and out of breath. "I won't let those fuckers kill you first."

With that, Ellie yanked you forward, pulling you into motion as the infected closed in. The sound of their growls and snarls filled the air,. You stumbled alongside her..

The infected were relentless, their numbers growing as more were drawn to the commotion. You risked a glance back, seeing the herd spilling through the trees like a dark wave.

“Keep moving!" she shouted. You barely had time to think, let alone question her plan.

An abandoned building loomed ahead, ellie didn't hesitate, her pace increasing as you neared it. She quickly pushed you through the entrance, your body skidding across the cold concrete floor. Pain shot through your hands and knees, the rough surface scraping skin and drawing blood.

"Argh!" you cried out, instinctively pulling your hands close to inspect the damage. Blood smeared your palms, the wounds stinging sharply.

You looked up to see ellie barricading the outside, shoving broken furniture against the entrance. You scrambled to your feet, masking the pain in your hands. The infected's guttural moans grew louder, meaning they were closing in on the building. Ellie finished securing the outside and then hoisted herself onto the roof. She slipped through a gap, landing lightly inside the building beside you.

But before you could react, she quickly lunged at you bloodthirsty. Her movements were quick and precise, a chaos of aggression as she aimed to overpower you. Instinctively, you reached for your pocket knife, the cold steel burning in your hand.

With a swift motion, you slashed at her back. The blade sliced through fabric and skin, causing a pained cry from Ellie.

"Fuck! ngh!" she gritted out, momentarily backing away from you. Blood seeped through her shirt, but the wound only seemed to fuel her anger.

Ellie didn't give you a moment to catch your breath. She lunged again, her shotgun swinging in a wide arc. The end of the weapon crashed against the side of your head with a sickening thud, and pain exploded in your skull. Darkness quickly became your vision, and you crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

───

You slowly regained consciousness, the first thing you felt was the pounding ache in your head, a relentless, throbbing pain. Groaning softly, you tried to move, but found your hands tightly bound behind a cold, metal pole. The rough ropes cut into your wrists, leaving them raw and sore.

Blinking to clear your vision, you took in your surroundings. The location was different—a small, dimly lit room that smelled of mold and decay. The faint glow from a single, flickering bulb barely illuminated the space. Old machinery and rusted pipes surrounded you, remnants of what appeared to be an abandoned industrial building.

As your senses returned, so did the realization of your situation. The muffled sounds of the infected outside were still present, but now distant, their grotesque growls and shuffles muted by the thick walls of the warehouse.

Ellie stood a few feet away, her back turned as she rummaged through a worn backpack.

"Where...the fuck are we?" you croaked, your voice weak and rough.

Ellie turned slowly, her expression hard to read. "Old warehouse," she replied. "Needed to get away from infected. You were slowing me down, so I had to make sure you wouldn't be a problem."

She then walked over, crouching down in front of you. She held a knife in her hand, the blade glinted ominously in the dim light.

"Talk," she demanded, her tone cold.

You met her gaze, anger flickering in your eyes. You weren't going to give in easily. You remained silent, your jaw set in a stubborn line.

Ellie's eyes narrowed, "Fucking answer me!" she snapped, moving the knife closer.

But your focus shifted, drawn to the dark stain spreading across Ellie's shirt. Blood was pooling at her side, seeping through the fabric and dripping onto the floor.

You stared at it, your voice calm and almost casual as you spoke. "You're bleeding out."

Ellie scoffed, but the tension in her eyes betrayed her concern. She glanced down at her wound, wincing slightly as she shifted her weight.

"That's not your concern," she snapped, "Tell me why you were fucking following me!"

"You can't interrogate me while you're losing blood," you replied, "You'll pass out before you get anything useful."

Ellie glared at you, her grip tightening on the knife. She was clearly in pain, her movements less fluid than before.

"I don't have time for this," she muttered, but the desperation in her voice was unmistakable.

"You need stitches," you said firmly.

Ellie grimaced, her jaw tightening with irritation. "I don’t need your advice."

You glanced around the dimly lit room, searching for anything that could serve as makeshift medical supplies. Your eyes fell on a rusted toolbox in the corner, its lid half-open and revealing a jumble of tools and odds.

"There might be something in that toolbox," you suggested, nodding towards it.

Ellie slowly limped over to the toolbox, her hand steadying herself against the cold metal of the nearby machinery. She opened the lid with a grunt of effort, revealing a disorganized array of old tools and supplies. Among the rusted wrenches and screwdrivers, she spotted the small, dusty sewing kit nestled in a corner.

Grabbing the kit, Ellie returned to where you were seated. She laid out the contents of the sewing kit—a sterilized needle, spool of thread, and a small pair of scissors—on a nearby crate.

"You're going to do it." she commanded, her voice firm and authoritative.

You stared at Ellie, disbelief and stubbornness across your face. "Fuckk no," you said firmly.

Ellie scoffed, “I can’t…reach back there." she admitted, her hands visibly trembling from the strain.

You watched her closely, completely aware of the opportunity before you. A plan came to mind —how you could turn her in this very moment, claim the upper hand. But the flaws of such a plan gnawed at you. Without backup, it was a risk that could easily backfire.

You pushed the idea aside, sighing heavily.

"Why would you ever let an enemy stitch you?" you asked, your tone suspicious. "Just minutes ago, I was trying to kill you."

Ellie's movements were slow as she began undoing the rope, her expression guarded. "Don't fucking question it," she replied bluntly, finally standing up before you, her gaze meeting yours with a challenge.

The intensity of her words hung in the air, the weight of truth echoing in your mind. You felt a surge of frustration and confusion, unable to understand Ellie's actions with the ruthless reputation she had earned among the WLF. In your weeks of observation, you had witnessed her kill WLF soldiers and crew with merciless efficiency.

"It's out of your character," you argued, your voice escalating with each word. "I've studied you for weeks. In that time, you've shown no mercy, no hesitation. Now suddenly, you're trusting one of your enemies to tend to your wounds?"

Ellie's jaw tightened, a flicker of irritation crossing her features. "You think I trust you?" she retorted sharply, her eyes narrowing. “If I wanted to, you'd be dead."

The words hit you like a blow, their implication sinking in with a chilling clarity. You realized then, with a sinking feeling in your gut, that Ellie wasn't acting out of sudden trust. She was going to use you to ensure her own survival.

───

Ellie crouched down, her back exposed to you as she held herself against a rusted metal crate. Her shirt lay discarded on the ground, revealing the crude stitches you had just finished. The wound, though now patched, still oozed blood, staining her skin and the fabric around it.

"Don’t try anything.." Ellie warned sharply as she glanced over her shoulder at you.

You scoffed, "Just fucking stay still.”

Ellie tensed but remained silent, her gaze fixed ahead as she focused on maintaining her composure. With practiced hands, you carefully inspected the stitches you had made, ensuring they were holding and that no signs of infection were starting to appear. Satisfied with your work, you began to stitch up the remaining tears in Ellie's shirt, reinforcing the fabric where it had been torn by the blade.

The warehouse around you remained eerily quiet, the only sound the occasional shuffle of debris stirred by a faint breeze.

"You're with the WLF, aren't you?" Ellie's voice cut through the tense silence.

You paused midway through stitching, the needle hovering above the fabric. Surprise flickered across your face before you composed yourself, a wry smirk tugging at your lips. "You really don't waste any time, huh?"

Ellie turned her head towards you, her expression unreadable. "The patch on your backpack gave it away," she explained casually, her eyes narrowing slightly. "So it wasn't exactly a mystery."

You rolled your eyes, a mixture of annoyance and amusement bubbling within you. Ellie chuckled softly, “The WLF think they’re so fucking untouchable," she continued, her voice tinged with disdain. "You guys don’t even bother with discretion. Yet it's the very reason why taking you out is so damn easy."

"You’ve answered your own questions," you remarked calmly, your hands skillfully stitching up Ellie's torn shirt. "Congratu-fucking-lations."

Ellie let out a scoff, a mixture of disbelief and bitter realization across her face. "It all makes sense now," she muttered under her breath, "Every time I settled somewhere new, a swarm of soldiers would magically show up the next day…”

"I knew something was off," she continued, her voice gaining intensity. She furrowed her eyebrows, "I thought I was just being paranoid until I caught sight of... well, you."

You gulped, the pit in your stomach deepening as if you were reliving that very moment. The memory of encountering Ellie, of being face-to-face with the trespasser you had been tasked to monitor.

"You should’ve seen your face," Ellie chuckled amusingly, "You were absolutely petrified."

You finished the last stitches on Ellie's shirt, securing the fabric back together as best as you could.

“Don't worry," you remarked, a smirk playing on your lips, "I'm guessing it was the same look you had when my bullet almost pierced your skull." With a grin, you handed her the now-repaired shirt. "So, I didn't miss much."

Ellie took the shirt from you, her expression unreadable as she inspected the stitches. "I didn't expect a WLF soldier to be an accurate shot," she admitted, "Most of you drop dead before pulling the trigger."

You rolled your eyes, “really?" you asked sarcastically, watching Ellie grunt as she put her shirt back on, clearly feeling the sting of the stitches.

“Because from the looks of it," you continued, your gaze lingering on the bruises and scars crisscrossing Ellie's exposed back before her shirt covered them, "I'm not the only one who's gotten lucky."

Ellie glanced down at you, "Yeah, well," she muttered "Luck doesn't happen twice."

The crackle of static abruptly screeched throughout the room. A voice blared through the radio, urgent and commanding, "Report needed for female trespasser, over."

Your heart leaped into your throat at the transmission. Without a moment's hesitation, you lunged for your backpack where the radio was nestled, but Ellie was quicker. A smirk curled on her lips as she withdrew the radio from your backpack.

"Huh," Ellie chuckled softly, holding the radio up to examine it with a mix of curiosity and amusement. She dropped your backpack to the ground and then turned to you, gripping your arm firmly and pulling you closer.

"Trail them off," Ellie demanded in a low voice, her gaze fixed on you with dark intensity. She held the radio out toward you.

[spookyserenades]

Sanctity Masterlist

Pairing(s); BTS OT7 x Reader

Genre/Themes; Vampire!AU, yandere!AU, horror, themes of the supernatural and mythology, historical topics, vampiric powers, religious themes, violence, romance

Rated; 18+ for swearing, violence/gore, toxic behavior including stalking, torture, and manipulation, future sexual themes. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

The world revolves around powerful, deadly creatures, their every whim catered to– vampires. Humans with rare blood types are kept in large Sanctuaries around the world, where they can be hand-picked by vampires and their covens to become live-in blood banks. Y/N, who had been trapped in a Sanctuary for ten years thanks to her ultra-rare blood type, is acutely aware of just how vicious vampires are. Though she wishes for freedom she once had when she was fifteen, if it came at the cost of being at the mercy of terrifying beings, she would remain within the halls of the Sanctuary forever.

  Covens as large as seven individual vampires are exceedingly hard to come by, especially an all-male coven. Brought together by their skewed views of reality, twisted minds, strong powers and connections, and blood-soaked pasts, seven vampires move to a new city in search of their perfect human to feed from. Though the town of Newport, Rhode Island, is sleepy, it holds a secret past, one that’s perfect to set the stage for a complicated, dark future. With a particular taste for the rarest types of blood, the coven discovers an acolyte with irresistible pull in a nearby Sanctuary– and they can’t wait to see what she can endure.

TO JOIN THE TAGLIST PLEASE CLICK HERE!

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MAIN STORY;

Find Sanctity on Ao3 and Wattpad, too!

coming soon!

Teasers for Chapter One

DRABBLES;

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EXTRAS;

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Moodboards - Seokjin . Yoongi . Hoseok . Namjoon . Jimin . Taehyung . Jeongguk

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PREQUELS;

Marauder  Hoseok, coming soon!

Chiaroscuro Yoongi, coming soon!

Gilded Taehyung, coming soon!

Devotion Jimin, coming soon!

Taeja  Seokjin, coming soon!

Scarface Jeongguk,coming soon!

Hwando  Namjoon, coming soon!

[felassan]

New BioWare journal entry:

"Journal #8 Exploration Across Thedas A look into how Rook will discover the world Hello everyone, Today, we’re back to share more about the world of Dragon Age: The Veilguard (minor spoilers below). While the game is a crafted experience telling a rich narrative, there are many areas to explore. The Lighthouse, for example, is a central place for Rook to rest, spend time with Companions, and learn more about the world through conversation. The Crossroads allow the Veilguard to traverse Thedas in seconds, connecting the Lighthouse to more of the world than ever before.  Throughout the story, you will go through many diverse areas, from the beauty of the lush Arlathan Forests to the busy streets of Minrathous. Veterans of the series have heard whispers in the past about each of these places in Thedas, but now you will actually be able to explore and experience them in-game. Each area has its own unique feel and style. There are several areas for exploration; each inviting you to delve deeper into the narrative and uncover the many mysteries Thedas holds. Check out a few of them here: Arlathan Forest – Ancient magic and powerful artifacts re-awaken and reality thins across the woodlands that once held the heart of the Elvhen empire. The Veil Jumpers, masters of ancient elven magic, seek to stabilize the region and keep reality from crumbling. Hossberg Wetlands – Much of this once-peaceful marshland has been consumed by the Blight. Darkspawn roam the swamps with impunity, but the Grey Wardens mount a valiant defense of the last safe haven – Lavendel. Minrathous – Capital of the Tevinter Imperium, the Venatori wield corruption as they try to turn the Empire’s heart to their own dark purposes. Yet the people resist, with the rebel Shadow Dragons leading the charge. Rivain – An ancient Grey Warden fortress sits among sparkling waters and lush greenery of the Rivain Coast; the Lords of Fortune call this paradise home. The servants of the gods have their own plans, however, and threaten to turn this sanctuary into a battlefield. Treviso – A merchant city known for the beauty of its canals – and the deadliness of its assassins – Treviso is under Antaam occupation, a state of affairs that sits poorly with the Antivan Crows.

WHAT'S THERE TO FIND? While exploring the world, the Veilguard will come across many things to do and people to talk to. Of course, there will be loot to upgrade your equipment but there will also be puzzles and lore! There will be ancient statues, letters, and artifacts left behind to read and collect those Codex Entries. There are also new modes of transportation to find throughout the world, including fast travel.  There will be new ways for your Companions to interact with the world as well, with specific exploration abilities. For example, you may come across some ancient Elven artifacts for Bellara to Tinker with while you wander through Arlathan. Even when the Companions are back at the Lighthouse, Rook can use the Lyrium Dagger to take advantage of their Exploration Abilities. You may also spot Companions out and about, interacting with the world on their own. When heading to Treviso, we recommend finding Lucanis and enjoying a cup of coffee together.

THE LIGHTHOUSE The Lighthouse will serve as your new home during Dragon Age: The Veilguard. Each companion will have their own room, for them to decorate to their own taste. Their rooms will progress over the course of the story, and it will also be the main location for one-on-one chats with them. Rook will have a room of their own, as well! Lastly, you will find the Caretaker’s Workshop here, where items can be upgraded and enchanted.

THE CROSSROADS From the home base of the Lighthouse, you will be able to access The Crossroads, a meeting place of many Eluvians. This area will serve as the main connection from the Lighthouse to the rest of Thedas, as well as lead to a lot of side content. The Caretaker will act as a guide throughout this area, ferrying the party to different islands in the Fade. Additionally, there will be more puzzles to solve in this area and even some extra missions, but we’ll leave those shrouded in mystery to discover on your own. We recently held our in-person Preview Event with Content Creators and Press, so keep your eyes out for interviews and coverage in the coming weeks. While you’re waiting, don’t forget to check out our podcast Dragon Age: Vows & Vengeance. Chat soon!             — The Dragon Age Community Team"

[source]

[singukieee]

—my all time favourite bts fics (pt. 4) ᯓᡣ𐭩

consists of my personal favourite bts fics that I've read countless of times. including those from other platforms, such as Wattpad, AO3, and Patreon.

For some works that are cross-posted between tumblr and wp/ao3, I'd only link them to the latters bcs I find it easier to read and navigate the stories on those. but I also tagged all the authors I know are here and linked the rest so you can check their blogs out yourself!

I'll also separate this list into several parts simply because there's too many... So it'd be easier for you guys to navigate!

red means unfinished

blue means finished

🗯️ editor's note

(sorted by alphabetical order)

Stay by OT7oramI

Y/N and her hybrid best friend, Jin, have known each other since Jin was eight years old and came to live with Y/N and her family. Throughout the years, Y/N and Jin have grown closer but there is one major secret between them. When an injured hybrid comes into Cherry Blossom Sanctuary where they both work, the secret is revealed. What will become of the friendship between Y/N and Jin when others are added to it?

Storms of Fate by SumiSG7

A darkly forbidden Auction in the veils of night catering to the morbid appetites of the wealthy in a world of legalized slave hybrids. Results in A melody of storm uniting the fates of a powerful Heiress with 7 mysteriously seductive & deadly hybrids The dark spiralling descent into the fever of passion & longing entwining their hungers while being targeted by an unknown enemy. What will be the result of the lethal games to Anya & the hybrids caught in a velvety prison of their own cravings for each other. But slowly, the realization trickled in… All was not normal as it should be, the love they forged, was a test of devotion that was still withstanding the time since before time began…

🗯️ too freaking good... but also really dark and sometimes sweet. I don't think I've ever read an ff as well-written as this one. plot's insane too. (this is actually a whole universe with side stories that you would be told to read along the way to understand the lore, so good it's crazy that it's free)

Sweet as Honey by sugakookie98

In a time where omegas are increasingly rare, others constantly question your resistance to find a mate. No one seemed to understand that you were content to stay in your comfort zone, focusing solely on your job. However, a series of unexpected events set your quiet world into motion, making you question your outlook on life and on mating bonds.

🗯️ another Idk what to say but it's really good

The Butterfly Effect by themonsterteddy

Easily attached hybrids get adopted into a family. Lei, the protagonist, is the quietest member of the family. Follow them to explore the lovely bond developing between them.

🗯️ a super warm read <3

The Butterseries by @minniepetals

Their names alone had every men and women turning their heads and falling at their feet. successful, prestigious, handsome, rich, and untouchable to anyone that looked their way. and you? you were just an employee who worked for them. who would’ve known you meant so much more to them than you could ever imagine?

The Byeoljali series by LittleShyGirl

❶ Finding A Place

As an isolated, lonely omega raised by humans, you have little understanding of how other wolves live. When you take a promotion to become a member of the BTS staff, your world collides with the Bangtan Pack and you realise you have a lot to learn.

❷ Making A Home

Now that she's found where she belongs, follow Y/N as she learns how to truly be a part of the Bangtan Pack.

The Companion by MoonChild791

After being fired, the job of a lifetime lands in your lap. You up root your life and moved to Seoul, only to find out you'll be working with your favorite group, BTS. Slowly, you start to develop feelings for them. But that's crazy, right? You can't have feelings for all seven of them, it would never work out.....would it?

The Contract by namjuicyy

Your life is turned upside down when a contract is pushed your way. But what happens if you sign it?

The Last Lycans by RoxNotRocks

Sometimes, a fateful encounter takes the form of a bullet through the head… After years of living as a wolf, alone in the wild, Yu has no memory of her past and no idea what her true nature is. As she attempts to begin anew and discovers that her fate doesn't have to be a lonely one, her lost secret comes back to haunt her. When your past comes back with a vengeance, should you flee, or fight?

The Line Between Love and War by @purpleyoonn

Your experiences told you that soulmates were something you would never have the pleasure of having; something not given to you because of who you are, despite the soulmark that resides on your inner left wrist. During your solo trip to Los Angeles, you find out that you are more than capable, that your soulmates had been waiting for you for a long time, and would not be letting you go anytime soon.

The Little Fox by @purpleyoonn

“The idea of being free was a foreign concept. Being free meant having choices, having opportunities. Being a hybrid meant never being free.” Just as you escaped the Little Fox, a bidding house, you find yourself at war with your thoughts, not wanting to go to another shelter. You didn’t expect yourself to find a home anywhere, especially not with the men who found you, and their pack.

The Pictures That Talk by @imnotlauriane

In a world where everyone has a special ability, mine is giving life to pictures. It allows me to see what happened behind the camera, reliving the moment when it was taken, as the subject. It's something I really cherish, but it can also come with great pain, so it's to be used carefully. I look at my finger, rings of fate black and cold. And I wonder, will I ever meet my soulmates?

The Seven by chewymilkyoda

When a young 17 year old girl and her friend went to an empty mansion that is reported as 'haunted', she never knew that her life would changed when she accidentally woke up 7 dangerous vampires that has been asleep for centuries. And boy is she in for a long-ass ride of fantasy shit that she never even knew about.

The Seven Princes by wassap_its_hunter

Being known as Nyx, you never had an easy life. With the expectations of being the world's best-renowned assassin and hunter, protector of your people, and a babysitter of five children, you can't really expect to have time in your hands to relax, the world being run by werewolves, witches, vampires, mermaids and more. But now, another role has been added. After hearing the princes of the biggest empire in the world, the Asian Kingdom, say the word "mate", you're scared for what is about to come. But then again you're Nyx, one of the very few humans that survived and became known, you could take a challenge like that.

🗯️ mc is so cool and the boys are whipped. my favourite.

The Seven Red Flags of HAKON University by tinyeyecat / emi ree

Born in the hell hole of Space Port 69, Rue’s a human Omega desperate to leave the alien whore house she calls home. Defying all odds, she masquerades as an Alpha and obtains a scholarship to the Ivy League of all space institutions. HAKON University is an all-male school that trains the cream of the crop—future leaders of the galaxies. Rue's just here to graduate, pretend to have a dick and then flee into the workforce, that is until the legendary Bangtan pack sets their eyes on her. They’re the future emperors—aliens with godlike abilities that make them rulers of their species. But with excessive power comes the price of testosterone-fuelled insanity that cannot be soothed. An esper will always need his guide. They’ve been searching for a final member to quell their raging soul-an eighth to complete their pack. Millions have tried for a taste of the peak, but none have succeeded, and thousands die from their power unable to withstand the bond. Bangtan doesn’t chase their prey, they don’t have to, but this time the seven Alphas want Rue.

🗯️ it's emi ree so it's gonna be insane!

The Siren's Song by PurpleQueenie

Modern day Seoul and myths don't go along hand in hand as easily as one might think. When for centuries (Y/N) has been bound to the Ocean, serving her duty as a siren- waiting for the day when it'll finally end, who knew stumbling across seven different souls would've been the reasons she needed to start living again, feeling again- even if it meant losing herself in the process.

🗯️ this might be my ultimate fave among queenie's stories. it's just soo good. mc who became the best version of herself after meeting the boys who support her despite the villain's constant torture. also, mc is just so full of life despite the ... it's amazing, go read it!

Through Her Eyes series by Gigi_Luv_4u

❶ Through Her Eyes

In the world of soulmates, perhaps Daun is the only one who does not expect for any soulmate to come. She doesn't have the soul marks that everyone supposed to have. Not one ink on her skin, no time marks on her wrists, no glowing red strings... but why does one day, seven gorgeous men claims to be her soulmate? And these seven are none other than the greatest boy band in the world?

❷ Through Her Eyes: Eternal

Multiples puffing out to the open has been on the news, but not as often as Daun with her seven. Now, more than ever, people have made their lives more than just a curious entertainment. Snippets of their married lives have become great treasures of inspirations that the entire world would simultaneously coo. No one can't blame them with how adorable they have cultivated their marriage to an inspiring one. Not to mention with the new additional members that surely adds more life to their already dynamic universe. Or… How does a family of Multiples go through their lives?

To Be, Or Not To Be Your Omega by Anonymous

Which would be harder? To be an Omega in an Alpha's world, or to have to play Omega to a pack of Alpha's that's known across the WHOLE world? As if disguising your gender truth isn't hard enough, how many omegas can say they have seven alphas that want to claim them? That went to the trouble of drafting up an overly generous contract just to have you as their omega? Oh, why did they have to find out your truth? Maybe it won't be so bad to be theirs, even if it's only by contract? After all, they're all so handsome, and smell so good, and— Is it wrong to have your inner omega cooing at the idea that this could become more than just your Omega status being taken advantage of like it's been all over the world?

To Be, or Not To Be Your Omega REBOOT by Anonymous

What would you do if you suddenly found yourself playing Omega to not just one, but seven world-renowned Alphas? Your struggle to conceal your true gender pales in comparison to this new challenge. These Alphas want to claim you. They've gone so far as to draft an outrageously generous contract just to have you as their Omega. But as your scent betrays your truth, you're left wondering: why did they have to find out? As you contemplate your fate, you can't help but think – maybe being theirs wouldn't be so bad, even if it's just by contract? After all, they're devastatingly handsome, their scents intoxicating, and... wait, is your inner Omega actually cooing at the idea? You've spent your life seeing Omegas taken advantage of across the world. Could this be different? Could this become more than just another power play? In this story, you'll navigate a world of primal instincts, hidden truths, and unexpected desires. Are you ready to step into the shoes of an Omega on the brink of a life-changing decisions?

Trouvaille by @spookyserenades

Until The Last Star Falls by Lov3Mochi / @minniepetals

In a world where hybrids are both the hottest commodity and largely exploited, a recent shortage of hybrids nationwide due to the wealthy adopting for sport hunting dominates the news headlines. More than ever, stray hybrids are whisked off the streets and taken into shelters to meet the demand. Mistreated, neglected, forgotten – in a notoriously disreputable hybrid shelter in a pocket of downtown Boston, seven “aggressive” hybrids await their inevitable fate of being sold for sport.

After years of trying to distance herself from her mystical past and upbringing, Y/N finds herself quitting her emotionally-draining job and is forced to face past mistakes. While accompanying her friends looking to adopt a child hybrid into their newly-formed family, Y/N inadvertently finds herself face-to-face with seven hybrids doomed to die. In a spur of the moment epiphany, Y/N decides to change the course of fate for the better; though bringing seven aggressive hybrids into her life and the darkening spiritual energy of her old home is trickier to navigate than she originally thought.

🗯️ I really appreciate the length of every chapter. like, so much details put into each and every chapter, and each chapter it just gets better and better.

It was a love you knew would never make it out alive without sacrificing a part of your happiness to receive a greater happiness. but for them, you’d go to any extreme to have them again, and for you, they will always remind you each day that you are theirs and that nothing can tear you apart, not even until the last star falls.

🗯️ so freaking good! a painful journey of love, full of longing and sacrifice.

You Never Walk Alone by @agustdakasuga

You live a quiet life in your late grandfather’s cabin in the woods. You go to school just to graduate and get your diploma, not to make friends or stand out from the crowd. That was until one day, you enter your home to see a pack of wolves that need shelter.

사람 (People) by thearmyprof

You are preparing to move across the Pacific Ocean and start a new chapter in your life, when a chance meeting with a man in a coffee shop has you questioning the timing of everything in the universe. When you hit it off on your first date, little do you know that the man you’ve already fallen head over heels for is, in fact, a member of BTS.

🗯️ this story doesn't include any insane themes, but so enjoyable and heartwarming. the characters also feel human, well-written.

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | NAVI

[chlmtsdoll]

omg omg yes patrickkk!! maybe something like he says something in regards to her relationship with art and tashi and how one day she’ll be alone and they’ll leave her after she retires and she gets all sad and just lots of angst ???

YES OMG this is just what I needed !! Even though Patrick is a real bully in this one I had a lot of fun with thisss I love writing intense emotions 🤍

NOTHING WITHOUT YOU

౨ৎ Pairing: ballerina!reader x Patrick Zweig/Art Donaldson/Tashi Duncan

౨ৎ Summary: Art and Tashi leave you home alone with Patrick, deciding to keep your distance from his dislike of you only goes but so far when you get caught in his wrath

౨ৎ Word count: 3.8k

౨ৎ Warnings: no use of y/n, sensitive!reader, sugar baby! reader, lots of angst, some fluff at the end, hurt/comfort, light verbal abuse, mentions of bullying, age gap (reader early 20’s), older!Patrick/Art/Tashi, protective Art & Tashi

While Art and Tashi had been out for the night seeing their daughter Lily in a local tennis tournament they were having for all the kindergarteners qualified in town, you’d stayed back at the penthouse the couple had been renting out for the time being. Although, you hadn’t been staying back alone — you were accompanied by the maid that waited on you all day to day and Patrick, who well, was brought along on this months tennis cycle.

It was mandatory you weren’t home alone during this time though. Tashi had been extremely potent on the matter, a strict rule about you being by yourself or out of her or Art’s view with Patrick. She made a big thing about how she didn’t trust the vindictive man that Patrick was around you. Even though it was known to you he was trusted within the couples sanctuary and personal life — they also were sure to remember he was Patrick at the end of the day.

With his deadly looks and slightly verbal abuse towards you since you met, down to his canine like draw that led him towards using his cruelty as shield for his compulsive desire that made him want to tear you down piece by piece. You didn’t know if it was because he still just couldn’t quite figure you out, or your purpose with the Donaldsons — why they were so intrigued with you or the fact that he wanted them, you, to himself.

It wasn’t overlooked by anyone that Patrick couldn’t stand the light that you were in Art and Tashi’s lives. With your innocent stares, fawning eyes at them like they were your world and stars, or how you always had a sense of obliviousness to your encounter. Always walking around the place in the tiniest shorts or pastel leg warmers trimmed with things he thought was all too ridiculous for you to be really real. At least not enough for him to take you seriously. Like ruffles or dainty flower trimmings of some sort that made his senses go untamed. You saw it whenever you’d walk by his robust presence as he’d sit and have a beer with Art. His eyes following your waist and perfect stature to do virtuous things like help the maid out with the laundry, kind smiles and sweet “please” and “thank you’s” as you folded attire. Or when you’d be quiet as a mouse in your the side of whatever massive place Art and Tashi would rent when you’d join them on tour during your off seasons, to pick up a thousand piece puzzle. Clench your fists in the cutest of ways when you got stuck in a loop of no hope to finish. But you always finished. You were the perfect sweet little thing.

He found you to be nauseating.

Your sweetness like a straight poison, always just too polite and never having outburst or a temper rise. To Patrick it seemed too good to be true, and you were. Just too good. Just to sweet for him. He wanted to destroy you.

Corrupt you, chew you up and spit you out.

And you just hadn’t known how to handle it or approach him at all, so not even knowing the appeal that Tashi and Art saw in him, you mostly ever just stayed away.

With the man being over an entire foot taller than you, you had no problem in keeping your distance. Any time you two were caught walking down a tight hall, his towering presence over you, he’d knock right into your miniature body. On purpose. Making you fly the other way, or when you’d basically spent most of the summer reading, he’d take your books by the spine and toss them across the room. If you were watching tv he’d snatch the remote from the coffee table and turn on a tennis match.

He was a grown man and a full blown bully.

You’d only put up with it because you knew it was in response of him not getting the same savory and tender treatment that Art and Tashi gave you. You were taking it all. Stealing their affections and hogging it from him with a naive (annoying to him) little smile on your face.

So you’d take a couple pushes and teasing if that meant you could hurt him in his weakest ally.

And you respected Tashi’s wishes of not sharing space with him for caution of yourself, but when the maid had to run out suddenly for an abrupt emergency — that plan had went downhill quickly.

You were left with Patrick Zweig all by yourself.

“Okay, I hope everything’s alright… see you next week.” you’d said your goodbyes to the maid as she hurried out of the place and you’d shut the grand doors behind her gently, turning on your heels to approach the kitchen area as your cold feet lightly toed against the marble floors. You decided not to bother making too much noise now that it had been just you and him. If you could just get through the next hour without having to get into an interaction with him and upset Tashi, it would be fine.

Nearing the close kitchen, you could hear switches of the second stove being turned and messed with. The sound irritating and getting louder as you stepped closer. Gas. Not the electric one that had also been provided right next to it.

When you walked in, of course Patrick had been hunched right over the stove, what looked like trying to light his cigarette in the most odd way that made you raise a brow on sight — until you remembered the rant he went on to Art and Tashi about leaving his one and only lighter back at one of the other rental homes in La. His fingers taking a quick break to scratch at his only slightly shaven dark colored beard to neck in modest confusion as he toyed with the fire. Just a couple seconds from catching onto his jeans.

You viewed the scene for a quick moment before letting out a piqued small sigh as you’d let him deal with that at his own funeral. You went to grab a soda from the fridge a few steps away from him.

Going through the loaded refrigerator stacked with only the highest healthy planned meals and smoothies, accompanied with fruits and cut up vegetables, you reached in the drawer to get a Diet Coke. The sound of Patrick just a couple moments away from burning the entire penthouse down made you scrunch your face up in annoyance before shutting the fridge by the handle.

“Could you not do that ? It’s really dangerous.”

His expression was hardened, Patrick looked up from his amateurish work to meet your glance when the sound of your soft chary voice had reached his ears.

“it’s fine, pipsqueak. I know what I’m doing.”

You rolled your eyes at the name he’d call you, and raised the sharp edge of the soda can to your lips as you watched the top of his cigarette beam a bright crimson at last. The taller fit man matched your gesture as he brought the stick to his mouth. Pink, and not reaching for a care in the world he let the smoke he breathed in travel out and above. You watched with hesitation to bring up the fact that the smoke detectors had been near flashing a signaling light just above him, you eyed the small but alarming circle before your eyes drifted back down to Patrick’s dark curls framing his face.

“You really shouldn’t smoke in here,” you crossed an arm over your cropped pj top that had displayed your belly button by a few inches. Patrick lifted his chin and peered down at your small figure to inspected you from your socked feet to your head through lidded eyes.

“Relax. Mommy and daddy aren’t here right now,” he scuffed in slight displeasure of your voice already. “Don’t you ever do anything apart from what you’re told ?.. ever ?”

“I’m just trying to be safe.” You had to crane your neck to look up at him, so it was much easier to just stare down at your feet against the floor before shifting your weight to the other. Patrick turned from your exposure already tired of you sticking your nose in his business anyways. He had looked at you like some stray kitten walking around the place unwanted and unfamiliar to his prey attitude.

“Well go be safe somewhere else.” His voice gravely before he started to chuckle in thought, you frowned. “Isn’t it pass your bed time anyways ? Oh, wait.. I forgot, you just have to stay up so you can see Art and Tashi walk through the door right ? Like some needy puppy or something ?”

Your eyebrows furrowed and you swallowed to coat your now dry throat in slight offense as you dropped your arms to your sides.

“Art always makes sure to make me tea and kiss me good night.” You defended even though your tone remained faint and Patrick only grinned in ignorance at your comment wanting to laugh a bit more at your seriousness for a joke.

“God. I almost feel bad for you, y’know.. you’re so dependent on them. They’re not your fucking parents.”

Patrick had pointed his cigarette to your presence and you shook your head at his words.

“I never said they were.”

“You don’t have to. You’re addicted to them.”

“And so are you.” You raised your voice a bit and Patrick moved to the counter in front of you with frustration. “You were just as lost as me before they acknowledged you again. Now all you do is pick me apart for it but you’re the same… and you’re just too jealous to admit it.”

Patrick had looked away as he begun to laugh with a smile that hid his insecurities deep down. Only to meet your eyes again, the most disquiet look of enmity in his stare that made you start to back up in regret. Right into the cabinets behind you without even realizing it.

“Jealous ? Give me a fucking break. You’re a pet.” He verbally spit at you and your lip quivered a bit at the name, he once again, had the upper hand on you. Because when he started to move closer, starting to tower over your fragile space you once called personal — you should of just gotten out of it then. But something stopped you from getting away.

You were frightened, his words too big, too rough for you to escape.

“And you know what’s sad ? Your brain isn’t even developed enough to know the difference. You’re gonna keep this up with them. Get so tightly wrapped up in this.. whatever the fuck- - and get your feelings all fucked up and confused thinking it’s love. That they really could love you, till one day you’ll be stuck on the side of the road with your life fully flipped over when they get sick of your little shit get up.”

His words were harsh as he snapped at you. Your body was frozen there as he backed you up into the deep of the kitchen, and even though you knew you could leave. Just walk away. Your limbs slowly started the tremble as well, nose flaring and redden as you fought back tears. You couldn’t let him win. But what if he was right ?

You knew he hated you enough to say anything to make you cry, but what if it had all been true.

Something inside of you broke.

“That’s not true,” your voice shaken as you shook your head to fight the anxieties,

“Yes. And you know it. They’ll leave you one day. Are you really that stupid, you can’t see it ? You think this will last ?”

You didn’t answer, and Patrick grinned.

“You’re a fucking tool, that they can play with and you let them. A toy.”

You tried to muster up the power to block him out. You were failing. Your heart pounded and you gripped the counter behind you in correlation to your discomposure as you begun to sniff.

“The way Tashi hardly looks in your eyes unless you’ve won every god damn tournament, they way your definitely as much to Art as a doll he can fuck to keep himself in the game. Face it. You’re no better than a hooker on the go.”

“No.” You started to cry, tears falling from your ducks before your brain could alarm your hands to wipe them, you uttered the word out as you faced Patrick and he still got in your face even closer. The man scowled at you as he pushed his words into you, cramming them in your head. He cornered your petite body in the side on the kitchen and you could feel the overwhelming hurt take over your body.

“Yes. You mean nothing to them.”

“No !” You screamed at him as tears streamed down your face as you tried to fight off his presence, not knowing what to do or where to go so you stood there and cried. And it felt pathetic. You let him win. He was bigger and smarter and knew better. You don’t know why you tried to stand against him, lord knows you were never going to win and now you were left the fool, crying like a child while being dog leg by Patrick Zweig.

You suddenly heard heavy foot steps and the sound of heels clashing against the floor as Art and Tashi rushed into the room at the sound of your scream.

“What the fuck is going on here ?” Tashi’s voice over powered the entire room as she dropped her bag and called out the maids name in hurried frustration of the scene she observed. “Where the fuck is she ?” Tashi huffed before telling her mom to take Lily to her room quickly, then storming back in to stop whatever they walked into.

“Baby ? Hey hey hey,” Art made his way over to your quivering body, face taken over by utter concern as he immediately took your shoulders into his hands and pushed Patrick roughly to the other side of the counter.

“The fuck are you doing, man ??” He cursed out at the other man. If you weren’t overwhelmed with emotion, you could say this was the first time you’d ever seen Art so terribly angry. But all you could do was turn away and sob into Art’s chest as he held you close, eyebrows furrowed deep and a fire in his eyes as he stared at Patrick like he could snap.

“I got this. Take her upstairs,” Tashi gestured to you and Art as she pushed between the two of them. It was in one swift motion that she tugged on Patrick’s ear by the lobe, forcing him to follow her out of the kitchen. He winced through his trailing behind her.

“Ow! What the- -”

Tashi jabbed him in the arm, and then again, then again till he he jumped back from her furious state.

“Are you a fucking idiot !? What is the matter with you ?!” Tashi roared at him with straight daggers in her eyes. “What did you say to her ??? I told you to stay the fuck apart !”

“Your brat came bothering me!” He grabbed Tashi’s wrists to yank her away from enforcing anymore pain on to him, but she just snatched her arm away mercilessly again. “She’s a little shit, so I told her the truth. You and Art just baby the fuck out of her for gratification. You don’t give a fuck about her, admit it. All of you are delusional !”

He argued and Tashi closed her eyes for a brief second with a deep breath before she got in his face.

“You’re a fucking piece of shit.”

Patrick rolled his eyes, but Tashi caught him off guard when she shoved him straight in his chest again.

“Who the fuck gave you the right, Patrick ? Are you blind ?? No one gives a shit about you ! It’s you !” Tashi had grunted with eruption, only getting madder because he had madden her so much already. She and Patrick both knew her words had only been half true, but it didn’t matter right now when he was playing so dirty and spitting words carelessly after the other. He truly did have no right.

Patrick stood there and looked at her, there was no use of more words when she had gotten like this and he knew she knew exactly how he felt about it all.

“Just- just- dispose of yourself somewhere. Go.”

“Where do you want me to go ?”

“I don’t give a fuck. Away from here, away from me. You’re an asshole.”

Tashi’s eye slightly twitched while she looked at the man in repulsion, and he was stone cold as he pushed passed her, knocking her shoulder as he slouched by, Tashi folded her arms.

“You will apologize to her first thing in the morning or you can pack your shit.” The irked woman gave a forced sympathetic smile before glaring at him and walking away, leaving Patrick there groaning in vexation as he shook his head.

Upstairs, you had been curled up in Arts lap. He held you in his arms as your soft cries and salty tears melted into the cotton of his shirt, he rubbed small circles against your back while he sat there in thought.

Art was distraught by the fact that whatever Patrick had said could of disturbed you so bad he had to find you crying your eyes out and shaking in the kitchen. He tried his best not to let you see the way his fists clenched and unclenched with his anger fueled throughout him, since he didn’t want to scare you or make you worry any more.

No matter what, Patrick always found a way to be a fucking dick. He just couldn’t understand the motive around why he’d want to make his perfect girl hurt or scream like that.

He felt your breathing start to steady as you sniffed and your face had been all hot and flushed, your heart had gone back to a normal pace, but you still were quite shaken as you curled farther into Arts embrace with a low wine.

“Baby, look at me. Can you sit up for me ?” Art’s voice chimes in sweetly through the sunken air of the room. He lowers his head to stare down at your state in his arms and you moved so you were sitting on your knees on the bed, you sniffed and Arts thumbs went to caress your face as he wiped a few tears from your damp cheeks. His icy blues met your wide teary eyes that were filled with sadness and your lip had been just swollen a touch.

“What happened ? Can you tell me what he said to you ?”

Your eyes travel down to his hands brushing your face and you held one of his wrists, your expression was laced with sorrow. You whimpered a little just from the memory, which Art noticed with a sigh. You knew it would feel better if you just got it out. Emptied the words from your chest because your kind and caring Art always took care of the worries for you, but it had been different this time. Because it involved the ideal of him leaving you.

You took your time to think as you sat on that bed with him. And Art watched your face soften under his comforting touch.

“He said I was nothing. That you’d leave, Tashi would leave. And i’d be stuck heartbroken with nothing because I don’t mean anything to either of you.” Your voice was sparse and trembled as you spoke to get the words out, Art already started to tense up as he listened. “Maybe- I- I am too dependent on you both, and I shouldn’t be because I’m so young and you guys don’t need another child on your arm to have to look after. I don’t want to be stupid.. I’m so- stupid.”

You wanted to sob again, your voice cracking and your hands going to cover up your face, the corner of Art’s lips twitched as he frowned, “no, no, no, sweetheart. Don’t talk about yourself like that.”

Art had brought you back into him as you cried softly under his chin, your arms wrapped around his torso and the older man sighed deeply. “Nothing is ever determined, and life takes us all in ways we just can’t predict, but I want you to know that whatever you choose to do, or want along the line — Tashi and I will always be here to support you. We’re not going any where and we would never leave you. Fuck that. You’re so loved, by us. You’re always welcomed in our lives no matter the circumstances that may come upon.”

You wiped your nose briefly before leaning up to look at the blonde once more, eyes searched his face for any uncertainty but all you found was honest and pure devotion.

“Really ?” You budged tenderly and Art brushed a few stuck locks that were caught in your wet face. He nodded with a light simper.

“Really, Princess. We adore you’re company and the person you are dearly. And you don’t have to think about all those bad thoughts right now, okay ?” He kissed the top of your head to your cheek while you hugged him like a lifeline. A feeling of warmth spread within you from there, worries calm and you felt collected of your emotions once again. You just wanted to be reassured. Words cut you and got to you deep. But right now being with Art, it was like the perfect bandage to your wound that was although bittersweet in theory, a very delicate heart.

You heard footsteps nearing as Tashi walked into the bedroom. She was looking exhausted. Absolutely tired from the inside out as she sat on the bed next to the two of you, your eyes met hers and you immediately curled up and laid your head in her welcoming lap when she settled. Soft hands against her leg where you felt the fabric of her dress pant brush your cheek, and a sullen sigh escaped the woman’s lips.

“He won’t bother you again, baby.” Her sultry like voice filled your senses and your chest collapsed with ease once again. Her fingers went to journey through your loose locks gently as the vigilant but warm woman relaxed you now physically too.

“I’ll go make you a hot chocolate, and Tashi will run you a warm bath. We’re gonna make you feel better, love.” Art left you with tender adoration as he promised to you, and reached to leave a delicate stroke on your thigh with a fond smile before he stood from the bed. Tashi nodded him off as she held you there for a moment more, pressing a sweet kiss to your temple.

[keehomania]

nevertheless (알고있지만) – jeon jungkook (전정국)

✧.* 18+

attachment was a curious thing. it began subtly, weaving its tendrils through the fabric of your life without notice, like the first soft blush of dawn on a still, sleepy horizon. at first, it seemed innocuous, a delicate thread that merely tugged gently at the edges of your existence, a whisper of a presence that was easily overlooked.

yet, in its essence, attachment was a powerful force, beautiful and treacherous. it painted the world in vivid hues, each moment tinged with a significance that it otherwise wouldn't have possessed. the simplest actions—a smile, a touch, a shared silence—became imbued with profound meaning. your heart swelled, enraptured by the beauty of connection, and your soul reveled in the comfort of knowing and being known.

as the days passed, those gentle threads of attachment intertwined, forming an intricate tapestry. each shared experience, each memory, added a new thread, strengthening the bond and deepening the sense of unity. it was a masterpiece of human emotion, a testament to the power of connection that filled your heart with warmth and light. the world felt richer, more vibrant, as if seen through a lens that sharpened every detail and amplified every sensation. but attachment, for all its beauty, carried a darker undertone. like a vine creeping up the side of a grand old mansion, it began to strangle, its grip tightening imperceptibly. what was once a source of joy and comfort transformed into a source of anxiety and fear. the delicate balance between freedom and dependence tipped, and your heart, once light and free, grew heavy with the weight of expectation and longing.

In this duality lay the true peril of attachment. It was a slow, insidious poison, sweet in its initial taste but deadly as it coursed through your veins. The same connection that brought life and color could, in an instant, become a noose, choking the very essence of the self. Your mind became consumed with thoughts of the other, every moment apart a silent torment, every slight perceived as a dagger to the heart.

you loved attachment. you loved love. the depth of your emotions was a wellspring of inspiration, each feeling a stroke of color, a line in a sketch, a form in a block of clay. you embraced your emotions, delving into their depths because they breathed life into your art. sculpting and painting were your lifelines, your way of interpreting the world and expressing the inexpressible. you found beauty in every raw edge, every shade of shadow and light, every curve and angle that made up the diverse tapestry of art. art was your sanctuary, a realm where diversity reigned supreme. each piece, whether a painting or a sculpture, told a unique story, resonated with a distinct voice. you loved the freedom it granted, the way it allowed you to channel your deepest feelings into something tangible, something that could be seen and touched. the fluidity of art mirrored the fluidity of your emotions, capturing the fleeting, the ephemeral, and the eternal in one breathtaking sweep.

what you didn't love, was attending your boyfriend's opening art show to show your support, only to find yourself standing in front of what he deemed his masterpiece. the centerpiece of the entire exhibit was a sculpture of you, rendered in painstaking detail, nude, in a scandalous position. the marble gleamed under the gallery lights, every curve and line of your body exposed for the world to see. jackson saw it as a pinnacle of his artistic achievement, a celebration of your form and your intimacy. he looked at it with pride, his eyes shining with the fervor of creation. but to you, it was a betrayal, a public humiliation. every whisper, every gaze, felt like a thousand needles piercing your skin, stripping away your dignity layer by layer. the room seemed to close in on you, the walls pressing inward as the weight of judgment and exposure crushed your spirit.

you couldn't breathe. the air was thick, suffocating, filled with the murmurs of the onlookers and the indifferent hum of the gallery. your chest tightened, panic rising as your eyes darted around for an escape. you felt the sting of tears, hot and unforgiving, blurring your vision. without thinking, you turned and ran, the murmurs growing louder, more accusing, as you fled the gallery. you ran until your legs burned, until your breath came in ragged gasps, until the noise and the lights of the gallery were far behind you. you stumbled onto a set of stairs, collapsing onto them, your strength spent. the world around you faded into a blur, and you buried your face in your hands, the sobs wracking your body.

the cold stone of the steps pressed against your skin, grounding you in the midst of your turmoil. you cried for the trust that had been broken, for the exposure you hadn't asked for, for the art that had turned against you. you had loved attachment, had loved love, had embraced every emotion because it allowed you to create. but in that moment, it felt like those very emotions were tearing you apart, leaving you raw and vulnerable, exposed to the harsh judgment of the world.

your tears flowed freely, each one a testament to the pain and the betrayal you felt. the love you had cherished, the attachment you had valued, seemed like cruel mockeries, twisting the knife deeper into your heart. you had poured your soul into your art, into your relationship, only to have it thrown back at you in the most brutal of ways. and so you cried, the steps becoming your sanctuary, the darkness of the night offering a cold, indifferent comfort as you wept for the love and the attachment that had led you to this moment of utter despair.

jackson trailed behind you, the sound of his footsteps echoing against the cold night air. when he found you on the steps, crumpled and broken, he paused, his silhouette stark against the dim streetlights. for a moment, he simply watched, his eyes narrowing as he took in the sight of you crying, your body wracked with sobs. the indifference in his gaze was chilling, a sharp contrast to the tenderness you had once believed existed between you.

“what the fuck are you doing?” he demanded, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “causing a scene like that in the middle of my show?” you looked up, your face streaked with tears, your eyes red and swollen from crying. “you humiliated me,” you choked out, your voice trembling. “you’ve shit all over my reputation.”

his eyes flashed with anger and disdain. “you have no idea what art is,” he spat. “you’re clueless. that sculpture was a masterpiece, a celebration of you, and you just made a fool of yourself and me.” his words struck you like physical blows, each one harder than the last. you struggled to find your voice, to make him understand the depth of your hurt. “it wasn’t art,” you whispered. “it was a betrayal. you exposed me to everyone, without my consent, without even thinking about how i would feel.”

he scoffed, his lips curling into a sneer. “you’re overreacting. you always do. that piece was about beauty, about vulnerability. you’re just too blind to see it.”

with that, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving you alone on the steps, your tears flowing freely once more. the echo of his footsteps faded into the night, leaving a void where his presence had been. you felt as if the ground had opened up beneath you, swallowing you in a chasm of despair and betrayal. you knew what art was. art was your lifeblood, your passion, your way of making sense of the world. you understood its power, its ability to evoke emotions and provoke thought. nevertheless, in that moment, you realized you had forgotten what love was. love wasn’t supposed to feel like that. it wasn’t supposed to leave you feeling exposed and vulnerable, abandoned and broken.

the steps were cold and unforgiving beneath you, a cruel reminder of the harsh reality you found yourself in. the night pressed in around you, its silence a stark contrast to the turmoil inside your heart. you had loved him, had believed in the connection you shared, but now it felt like a cruel joke, a painful illusion. you sat there, your face buried in your hands, trying to piece together the fragments of your shattered heart. the art you had loved, the emotions you had cherished, all seemed tainted now, twisted by the betrayal you had experienced. you had thought you understood love, had believed in its beauty and its power, but now it felt like a distant memory, something you couldn’t quite grasp.

and so you cried, the tears falling silently as you tried to make sense of the pain, the betrayal, the loss. you cried for the love that had turned into a weapon, for the art that had been twisted into something cruel. you cried for the trust that had been broken, and for the heart that had been shattered. in the quiet of the night, you felt the weight of your emotions, their depth and their intensity. you had loved deeply, had felt every emotion with a fervor that fueled your art. but in that moment, on those cold steps, you felt the sharp sting of love’s betrayal, and the emptiness it left behind.

the night wore on, the stars glittering coldly above, indifferent to your pain. and as you sat there, alone and broken, you realized that while you understood art, you had forgotten what love truly was. it wasn’t the grand gestures or the passionate declarations. it was the quiet moments of understanding, the gentle touch of reassurance, the unspoken bond that held two hearts together. you had forgotten that love was supposed to heal, not hurt. it was supposed to uplift, not tear down. and in that moment, you vowed to remember, to never let anyone make you forget again. the tears continued to fall, but beneath them, a resolve began to form, a determination to reclaim the love and the art that were rightfully yours, to find the strength to rise from the ashes of your heartbreak and create anew.

the club was a throbbing pulse of music and light, a sanctuary for those seeking to drown their sorrows or celebrate fleeting moments of joy. you found yourself there, the need to escape the pain and humiliation driving you to its neon embrace. the air was thick with the scent of sweat, alcohol, and anticipation, each beat of the music resonating through your body like a heartbeat. you made your way to the bar, ordering a drink to numb the ache in your chest. the liquid was a fiery solace, burning down your throat and spreading warmth through your veins. one drink turned into another, and another, as you tried to drink the night away, to forget the betrayal, the hurt, the sculpture that had stripped you bare in more ways than one.

but as the air grew tighter and the room spun slightly with the haze of alcohol, you felt the need for a moment of clarity, of fresh air. you stepped outside, the cool night air a contrast to the suffocating atmosphere of the club. reaching into your pocket, you pulled out a box of cigarettes, your fingers fumbling as you searched for your lighter. It was gone, lost in the chaos of the night.

“fuck,” you muttered quietly, frustration boiling over. as you looked up, you saw a man standing nearby, a smile playing on his lips as he flicked his lighter open. the small flame danced in the darkness, casting a warm glow on his face. “need a light?” he asked, his voice smooth and warm, like a balm to your frayed nerves.

you nodded, a grateful smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “yeah, thanks.” he stepped closer, the flame catching the tip of your cigarette. you inhaled deeply, the smoke curling into your lungs and bringing a strange sense of calm. as you exhaled, he cracked a joke, something about fate bringing a cigarette and a lighter together. you laughed, the sound surprising you with its lightness.

he lit his own cigarette, taking a drag as he turned slightly, giving you a glimpse of the tattoo on the back of his neck—a butterfly, delicate and intricate, its wings poised as if ready to take flight. “that’s a beautiful tattoo,” you said, your eyes tracing the lines of the butterfly. he glanced back at you, a faint smile touching his lips. “thanks. i like butterflies. got a few of them at home.”

“they’re beautiful,” you admitted, the honesty in your voice surprising even you. “especially monarch butterflies. there’s something about them that’s just mesmerizing.” he didn’t respond immediately, instead reaching into his pocket and pulling out a marker. taking your hand gently, he began to draw, the marker’s tip gliding over your skin. when he finished, he held up your wrist, showing you the butterfly he had drawn there—a monarch, its wings spread wide in a silent declaration of beauty and freedom.

“now you have a butterfly of your own,” he said, his voice soft but carrying an undercurrent of warmth. “to remind you of their beauty.”

you looked at the butterfly on your wrist, a smile forming on your lips. it was a small gesture, but it held a world of meaning, a moment of connection that pierced through the haze of pain and alcohol. “thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible above the city’s distant hum. he nodded, a silent smile on his face, before turning and walking back into the club, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the butterfly on your wrist. the night seemed a little less dark, the weight of your emotions a little lighter.

as you stood there, the cigarette burning slowly between your fingers, you felt a glimmer of hope, a reminder that even in the darkest moments, beauty could still be found. the butterfly was a symbol, a promise that you could find your way back to the love and the art that had always been your sanctuary. you took another drag of your cigarette, the smoke swirling around you like a protective veil. the club’s music thumped in the background, a distant reminder of the chaos you had escaped. but in this moment, with the butterfly on your wrist and the memory of a stranger’s kindness, you felt a small but significant shift within you.

the next day, you found solace in the familiar embrace of your studio. the room was filled with the quiet hum of creativity, the soft scraping of tools against clay, the muted whispers of students deep in their work. your hands moved deftly over the surface of your sculpture, the tactile sensation of the material grounding you, offering a brief respite from the emotional turmoil that still lingered from the night before. your fingers traced the curves and lines, each motion a silent meditation, an attempt to channel the chaos inside you into something tangible, something beautiful. the sculpture began to take shape, a reflection of your innermost thoughts and feelings, an expression of the vulnerability and strength that intertwined within you.

as you lost yourself in the rhythm of your work, the studio door creaked open, and your friend poked her head in. jihyo was a vibrant presence, her energy infectious, and her smile always managing to brighten the darkest of days. “hey, you,” she called, waving you over. “let's step out for a smoke. you look like you need a break.”

you hesitated, your hands still covered in clay, but her insistence was hard to resist. with a sigh, you wiped your hands and followed her out, the studio door closing softly behind you. the fresh air was a welcome change, and the courtyard was quiet, a peaceful oasis amidst the bustling campus. jihyo handed you a cigarette, and you lit it, the familiar act bringing a semblance of calm. she leaned against the wall, her eyes narrowing as she studied you. “alright, spill it. what’s bugging you?”

you took a drag of your cigarette, the smoke curling around you. “jackson and i broke up,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. her eyes widened in surprise. “what? when? what happened?”

you recounted the events of the previous night, the betrayal and humiliation still raw in your mind. as you spoke, her expression shifted from shock to anger.

“he did what?” she exclaimed, her voice rising. “that sick son of a bitch, how could he think that was okay?” you shrugged, the weight of it all pressing down on you. “he called it art. i called it betrayal. we saw things differently.”

jihyo shook her head, her anger palpable. “you deserve so much better than that. he had no right to expose you like that.” as she spoke, you caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of your eye. your heart skipped a beat as you recognized the man from the previous night. he was walking by, his posture relaxed, but his eyes met yours, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. the recognition in his gaze mirrored your own, a silent acknowledgment of the shared moment you had experienced.

he seemed as shocked as you were, but he recovered quickly, a smile tugging at his lips. you couldn’t help but smile back, the memory of his kindness a small comfort in the midst of your turmoil. “hey, jihyo,” you said, nudging her gently and nodding in his direction. “do you know who that is?”

she followed your gaze, her eyes narrowing as she took in the sight of him. “oh, that’s jeon jungkook. he works in the building department. total slut, though. you should keep your distance.” her words were blunt, her tone dismissive, but you couldn’t help but feel a pang of curiosity. jungkook glanced back at you once more before continuing on his way, the smile still lingering on his face. you watched him go, the memory of his smile and the butterfly he had drawn on your wrist vivid in your mind.

you nodded absently, still watching him from a distance. “yeah, sure. i’ll keep that in mind.” as the two of you finished your cigarettes and headed back to the studio, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was different from the way jihyo described him. there was a gentleness in his eyes, a quiet kindness that intrigued you. you didn’t know what the future held, but for now, the memory of his smile and the butterfly on your wrist gave you a small glimmer of hope, a reminder that beauty and kindness could still be found, even in the most unexpected places.

back in the studio, you lost yourself once more in the clay, the rhythm of your movements a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. each touch, each stroke of your tools, was an act of creation, a way to channel the tumult of emotions into something tangible. the world outside the studio faded away, leaving only the quiet hum of creativity and the comforting solidity of your sculpture.

the creak of the door barely registered in your focused state. it wasn’t until you sensed a presence directly in front of you that you looked up, your hands pausing mid-motion. there he was, jeon jungkook, the man from the night before, sitting casually on a stool, his eyes bright with curiosity and amusement. he smiled, a warm, easy smile that seemed to light up the room. “you work with such intensity,” he remarked, his voice carrying a note of genuine admiration. “it’s really impressive.”

“thanks,” you replied, your mind flashing back to jihyo’s warning about him. you tried to keep your expression neutral, though his unexpected presence had thrown you off balance.

his gaze drifted to your wrist, where the butterfly he had drawn still lingered. “the butterfly is still there,” he noted with a hint of satisfaction. you looked down at the delicate sketch, a small smile tugging at your lips. “yeah, seems like she likes it there.”

“she does,” he agreed, a playful glint in his eye. “but i think she’d like a drink more. would you wanna grab one with me?” for a moment, you hesitated, jihyo’s words echoing in your mind: “total slut, though. you should keep your distance.” but there was something about him, something that intrigued you. his easy confidence, his unexpected kindness from the night before—curiosity got the better of you.

“sure,” you said, nodding. “i'd like that.” his smile widened, and he stood, offering his hand to help you up. his touch was warm, steadying you as you wiped the clay from your hands. the studio felt different now, charged with a new energy, as you left with him, the door closing softly behind you.

as you and him left walked, the conversation continued to flow effortlessly between you. the city lights cast a warm glow on the streets, and the night air was crisp, a perfect backdrop for the unexpected connection forming between you. “so, why have i never seen you around before?” jungkook asked, his hands casually tucked into his pockets as you walked side by side.

you shrugged, a small smile playing on your lips. “i’m usually in the sculpting department. it’s a bit tucked away, not many people venture there unless they have a reason to.” his eyes lit up with interest. “sculpting, huh? that’s pretty cool. i’ve always wanted to try it, but my parents insisted on something more practical. hence, the building department.”

you glanced at him, curiosity piqued. “you should chase your own freedom,” you said earnestly. “do what makes you happy.” he chuckled softly, the sound rich and warm. “all i chase is freedom. it’s a problem, really. but it’s why i resonate with butterflies so much. they’re the ultimate symbol of freedom and transformation.” you walked in comfortable silence for a moment, contemplating his words. jungkook’s outlook on life was refreshing, a stark contrast to the rigid expectations that had been imposed on you by others.

as you approached the bar, the lively atmosphere enveloped you. jungkook led you to a section of the room dedicated to dart throwing. the area was bustling with energy, the sound of laughter and friendly competition filling the air. “ever played darts before?” he asked, picking up a dart and spinning it expertly between his fingers. you shook your head, feeling a bit out of your element. “no, i’ve never tried it.”

he grinned, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. “well, it’s time you learned.” he turned to the dartboard, aiming with practiced ease and throwing the dart. It hit the center perfectly, a bullseye. “show-off,” you teased, impressed by his skill. he laughed, handing you a dart. “come on, give it a shot. i’ll help you.”

you took the dart, feeling a bit unsure. jungkook moved behind you, his presence close and comforting. he placed one arm gently around your waist, guiding your hand with the other. the warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine. “just relax,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. “focus on the target.”

with his guidance, you raised your arm and threw the dart. it flew straight, hitting the middle of the board. you turned to face him, your eyes meeting his. there was a shared moment of triumph and connection, your heart fluttering at the intensity of his gaze. “see? you’ve got it,” he said softly, a proud smile lighting up his face.

you couldn’t help but smile back, the feeling of accomplishment mingling with a growing sense of attraction. for the rest of the evening, you played a few more rounds, each throw bringing you closer, both physically and emotionally. the drinks flowed, the conversation deepened, and laughter punctuated the night. as the night drew to a close, he insisted on walking you home. the streets were quieter now, the city settling into a peaceful rhythm. when you reached your doorstep, he turned to face you, his expression tender.

“i had a great time tonight,” he said, his voice sincere. “thank you for joining me.”

“me too,” you replied, feeling a warmth spread through you. “i’m glad i came.” he stepped closer, his eyes holding yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. he leaned in, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead. the simple gesture was filled with warmth and affection, sending a rush of emotions through you.

“good night,” he whispered, his lips lingering for a moment before he pulled away. you watched him walk off into the night, your heart fluttering in your chest. the evening had been unexpected, a whirlwind of emotions and connections that left you feeling both exhilarated and introspective. as you turned to enter your home, you couldn’t help but smile, the memory of his kiss still warm on your skin.

the morning sun filtered through the trees as you walked to your campus with jihyo. the campus was beginning to stir with activity, the hustle of students preparing for the day ahead. the air was filled with the familiar sounds of footsteps, chatter, and the distant hum of city life. jihyo made sure to get a headstart, indulging in her morning vape, the sweet aroma curling around you as you walked side by side. she passed the vape to you, and you took a slow drag, savoring the fleeting tranquility before the day's demands took over. you exhaled, the vapor mingling with the crisp morning air.

as you continued your walk, you recounted the events of the previous night, your voice animated as you described jungkook’s unexpected kindness and the enjoyable evening you had shared. she listened intently, though her expression remained skeptical, her brows furrowing in concern. “and then,” you finished, handing the vape back to her, “he walked me home and gave me a kiss on the forehead. it was really sweet.”

she took a long drag, her eyes narrowing slightly. “it sounds like you had a nice time, but—” she exhaled a cloud of vapor, “—you’re playing with fire, you know that?” you raised an eyebrow, a hint of defensiveness creeping into your voice. “come on, ji. you’re being way too judgmental. he's not like that, he's different.”

she gave you a skeptical look, shaking her head. “i’m just saying, be careful. you don’t know him that well yet.”

you were about to respond when you both froze mid-step. your gaze followed jihyo’s, and you saw him up ahead on the sidewalk. your heart skipped a beat, but this time, he wasn’t alone. he was walking with another girl, his arm draped casually around her shoulders. they seemed at ease with each other, sharing an intimate, comfortable closeness. jihyo glanced at you, her expression a mixture of sympathy and concern. “well,” she said softly, “i guess i wasn’t wrong.”

you stood there, feeling the weight of her words. the sight of jungkook with someone else was a jarring contrast to the warmth you had felt the previous night. it was as if the bubble of the evening’s enchantment had burst, leaving you to confront a reality that you had momentarily ignored.

the girl beside jungkook looked at him with a smile, and he responded with a tender gaze. it was a simple, yet intimate exchange that spoke volumes. the contrast between last night’s connection and this morning’s reality was stark, and you felt a pang of disappointment. jihyo’s hand rested gently on your shoulder, her voice comforting. “i'm sorry, i didn’t mean to rub it in. i just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

you nodded, feeling a lump in your throat. “i know. it’s just, i thought there was something real there. maybe i was wrong.” jihyo sighed, taking another drag from her vape. “you weren’t wrong to feel what you felt, just be cautious. sometimes people aren’t as straightforward as they seem.”

you watched as jungkook and the girl walked further down the street, their figures eventually disappearing from view. the sight had left you feeling unsettled, a mix of emotions swirling inside you. the confidence you had felt the night before now seemed fragile, overshadowed by the uncertainty of this new revelation.

as you and jihyo resumed your walk, the campus loomed ahead, its familiar buildings a reminder of the routine and responsibilities awaiting you. the conversation shifted to other topics, but the weight of the morning’s encounter lingered, a reminder that even fleeting connections could carry unexpected complexities. you couldn’t help but reflect on his words about freedom and butterflies, wondering how they fit into this new, unsettling reality. the morning had started with promise but had given way to a reality that was less clear-cut, leaving you to navigate the delicate balance between hope and caution.

the studio was a sanctuary of focused energy and creative chaos. you found solace in the rhythm of your hands working the clay, shaping it with deliberate precision. each stroke was a meditative practice, allowing you to channel your thoughts and emotions into the art before you. jihyo, her boyfriend, and his sister had settled nearby. minho was absorbed in his own project, while jihyo and minyoung chatted softly, their voices a comforting background hum. the three of them had a natural camaraderie that brought a sense of ease to the studio. minyoung’s laughter rang out occasionally, a bright and cheerful sound that contrasted with the solemnity of your own concentration.

as you sculpted, your thoughts drifted back to jungkook. the image of him walking with another girl played over in your mind, like a record stuck on repeat. the warmth of last night seemed distant now, replaced by the chill of reality. you tried to push the thoughts aside, focusing instead on the form taking shape in your hands. minyoung’s voice broke through your reverie. “hey, we’re planning to head over to ji’s place tonight for a little get-together. we’re gonna have some drinks and hang out with a few friends from campus. you should come.”

you looked up, momentarily distracted from your work. “that sounds fun,” you said, though your voice betrayed a hint of reluctance. the idea of socializing was appealing, but the thought of seeing jungkook again—especially in a group setting—left you feeling unsettled. jihyo noticed your hesitation and gave you a reassuring smile. “come on, it’ll be good for you. you’ve had a rough couple of days. a change of scenery might help you feel better.”

uou nodded, forcing a smile. “yeah, i guess you’re right. i’ll come.” minyoung’s eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. “great! it’ll be nice to hang out and unwind. we’re all looking forward to it.”

as the conversation shifted back to other topics, you tried to immerse yourself in the rhythm of sculpting once more. the tactile sensation of the clay beneath your fingers was grounding, a small comfort amidst the whirlwind of emotions. despite your efforts, your mind kept returning to Jungkook. the casual intimacy you had witnessed, the way he had interacted with the girl—every detail seemed to replay itself in your thoughts. jihyo and minho were absorbed in their conversation with minyoung, their voices a blend of excitement and lightheartedness. Occasionally, jihyo would glance over at you, her expression a mix of concern and encouragement. her presence was a reminder of the friendship and support you had, even when things felt uncertain.

the minutes ticked by as you worked, the sculpting process a meditative balm for your frayed nerves. each detail you added to your piece was a small victory, a way to reclaim a sense of control amidst the emotional turbulence. when the end of the class approached, you felt a mixture of relief and anticipation. the prospect of the evening’s gathering offered a potential escape from the weight of your thoughts, a chance to immerse yourself in the company of friends and let the worries of the past few days drift away.

jihyo and minho packed up their things, and you followed suit, feeling a sense of camaraderie as you prepared to leave the studio. minyoung chatted animatedly about the evening’s plans, her enthusiasm infectious despite the lingering doubts in your mind. as you walked out of the studio and headed toward the campus exit, jihyo fell into step beside you. her presence was comforting, a reminder of the support you had. “remember,” she said softly, “tonight’s about relaxing and having a good time. don’t let your worries overshadow it.”

you nodded, taking a deep breath as you stepped into the vibrant energy of the campus. the evening ahead held the promise of distraction and connection, a chance to shift your focus and enjoy the company of friends. as you walked alongside jihyo and minho, you tried to embrace the hope that tonight might bring a welcome reprieve from the storm of emotions you had been navigating. the sun began its descent, casting long shadows across the campus as you made your way to her place. with each step, you hoped for a sense of relief and a chance to momentarily escape the complexities of your thoughts.

the evening's promise of relief and distraction dissolved like smoke as you stepped into jihyo’s house. the warmth and laughter that greeted you were abruptly overshadowed by the sight of jungkook among the group of people already there. the room was buzzing with energy, the clinking of bottles and the murmur of conversation filling the air.

jihyo’s cheerful greeting faltered as her gaze locked onto jungkook. she snapped her neck to minho, a look of surprise and irritation crossing her face. “i didn’t know you’d invited jungkook too,” she said, her voice carrying a sharp edge. minho raised his hands defensively, a sheepish grin on his face. “i had no idea there was tension. i thought it’d be a nice surprise.”

you stood there, frozen in the doorway, feeling a chill seep into the warmth of the room. jungkook’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, there was a silent acknowledgment of the situation. his smile faltered slightly when he noticed your lack of reciprocation, the tension between you palpable.

jihyo guided you into the room, her demeanor shifting to one of concern. whe led you to a circle on the floor where the others were already settling in. minho produced bottles of soju, his enthusiasm for the evening evident as he set them down and suggested starting a drinking game. the game began with a lively energy. the group’s laughter and teasing filled the space, but you found it difficult to engage. as the rounds progressed, the questions and challenges became increasingly daring. mina, one of the other girls, challenged jihyo to either take her top off or drink. just as she was about to comply, minho interjected, suggesting she down an entire bottle instead. the room erupted in laughter, a sound that felt distant and hollow to you.

jungkook’s gaze remained fixed on you, his eyes searching for a reaction. you met his gaze briefly, your own expression unyielding. the game continued around you, the atmosphere growing more frenetic and less comfortable.

jihyo’s eyes sparkled with a new idea as she turned to him, her voice carrying a playful tone. “jungkook, your turn. kiss the prettiest girl in the room or take a drink.” the challenge seemed to electrify the room. his eyes flickered to you once more, his expression a mix of resolve and anticipation. he reached for the bottle of soju, his fingers brushing its neck, before setting it down with a decisive motion. without hesitation, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.

the room erupted in cheers, the sound washing over you in a wave of unwanted attention. jungkook pulled away, his smile radiant and expectant, but you remained unmoved. your eyes were cool, indifferent. the kiss, meant to be playful or provocative, felt hollow and forced. the jubilation of the room contrasted sharply with your own feelings. you took a swig from the soju bottle, the liquid burning as it went down. the alcohol did little to numb the sting of the evening’s events. with a heavy sigh, you excused yourself from the circle and walked toward the door.

as you stepped outside, the cool night air greeted you with a sharp, refreshing clarity. the sky above was dotted with stars, a serene contrast to the chaos you had just left behind. you fumbled with your cigarette box, fingers trembling slightly as you retrieved a cigarette. with a practiced motion, you lit it and inhaled deeply, the smoke curling around you in a calming haze. the solitude of the outdoor space provided a temporary refuge from the din inside. uou leaned against the wall, the cigarette between your fingers a small anchor in the storm of your thoughts. the kiss from jungkook had left you unsettled, and the evening’s veneer of camaraderie had revealed a deeper undercurrent of discomfort and disconnection.

as you stood there, lost in thought, the distant sounds of laughter and music from the party inside seemed faint and distant. the cool breeze carried away the heat of the moment, leaving you with a sense of clarity and resolve. you had come seeking relief, but instead had confronted a reality that was as complex and unpredictable as ever. the cigarette burned down slowly, the embers glowing softly in the night. you finished it with a deep, contemplative drag, savoring the quiet before re-entering the fray of the evening. with a final exhale, you flicked the spent cigarette away and prepared to face whatever the rest of the night might hold.

the night air had a crisp bite to it, a contrast to the clamor of the party inside. you were about to step back into the house, hoping to reclaim some semblance of normalcy, when a shadow fell across your path. you looked up, only to find jungkook standing there, his presence as sudden as it was unexpected.

he leaned down slightly, his gaze fixed on you with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. his smile was disarming, and his voice carried a playful tone as he spoke. “why’ve you been so cold to me?” he asked, his eyes glinting in the dim light.

you scoffed, the earlier tension bubbling back to the surface. “why don’t you ask your friend from this morning?” you shot back, unable to keep the edge from your voice.

his laughter was soft and warm, cutting through the chill of the night. “soel? oh, she’s just a friend. nothing more,” he said, dismissing your concern with a wave of his hand. his words caught you off guard, leaving you momentarily stunned and silent. the embarrassment of your earlier jealousy washed over you like a tide, coloring your cheeks with a faint blush. he seemed to sense your discomfort and offered a reassuring smile. “don’t worry about it,” he said, his voice gentle. “jealousy looks good on you, by the way.”

your heart skipped a beat at his comment, a flush of heat spreading across your face. the candidness of his words, combined with the intensity of his gaze, made it difficult to maintain your composure. flustered, you looked away, struggling to regain your equilibrium. before you could fully gather yourself, his presence at your side felt oddly comforting. he matched your pace as you turned back toward the house, trailing behind you with a casual, easy stride. the sound of the party inside grew louder as you approached the door, the energy of the gathering spilling out into the hallway.

the night’s revelry had left you intoxicated and unsteady on your feet. the laughter and music from downstairs seemed to blend into a distant hum as you made your way up to jihyo’s room. the stairwell wobbled slightly under your steps, each ascent feeling like an effort as you navigated the dizzying effects of the evening’s drinks. when you finally reached her room, you stumbled through the door and collapsed onto her bed. the room was dimly lit, the soft glow of a bedside lamp casting a gentle light across the space. the bed felt like a comforting refuge as you sank into its embrace, your head spinning pleasantly from the alcohol.

as you rested, the door creaked open, and you heard the shuffling of footsteps approaching. your hazy vision slowly made out jungkook’s figure as he stumbled into the room, equally inebriated but with a purposeful gait. he looked around, his eyes finally landing on you with a mix of concern and amusement.

“what are you doing here?” you managed to ask, your voice a bit slurred. the question hung in the air, mingling with the scent of alcohol and the faint scent of perfume. his smile was lopsided, his gaze soft as he settled down on the bed beside you. “i came to check on you,” he said, his voice carrying a soothing warmth that contrasted with the cool night air.

your heart fluttered at his words, a sensation that felt both thrilling and disorienting. as he sat next to you, his presence was comforting and reassuring, an anchor amidst the swirl of emotions you were feeling. he looked at you with a gentle smile, his eyes lingering on your flushed cheeks and disheveled appearance.

“you’re just as pretty drunk as you are sober,” he said, his tone affectionate and teasing. the compliment made you blush deeper, and you instinctively raised your hands to cover your face. “my makeup must be a mess,” you mumbled, feeling a mix of embarrassment and vulnerability. jungkook shook his head with a soft chuckle, his movements deliberate and careful. “makeup is just art, and you can't mess up art,” he said, his voice tender as he leaned in closer. his face was inches from yours, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours. his fingers gently traced the lines of your face, his touch light as he began to wipe away the smudges of makeup from under your eyes.

the intimacy of the moment seemed to stretch and contract, a space filled with a growing anticipation. jungkook’s gaze held yours, his eyes reflecting a depth of emotion that matched the softness of his touch. the distance between you closed, the world outside the room fading into insignificance.

when his lips finally met yours, the kiss was hot and heavy, a potent mix of desire and need. it was a kiss that spoke volumes, expressing the unspoken feelings and the intoxicated passion that had been simmering beneath the surface. his lips moved against yours with an intensity that made your heart race, the kiss deepening with every passing second.

as the kiss deepened, the rest of the world seemed to dissolve into a blur. the music from downstairs, the laughter, the people—it all became a distant echo compared to the closeness of his embrace. the kiss was a shared moment of escape, a brief interlude where nothing else mattered but the connection between you and him. “if we continue,” he murmured, his hot breath grazing your lips. “i won't be able to stop myself.”

his eyes searched yours for consent, and even though you were tipsy, you knew exactly what you were doing. with a nod, you let yourself indulge in it, the anticipation building with every step. the room was dimly lit, with the occasional flicker from the candle casting shadows on the walls. the smell of the candle, something sweet and exotic, filled the air, mixing with the faint scent of his cologne. jungkook closed the door behind you, and in that instant, the outside world was forgotten.

once on the bed, your bodies became a tangled mess of limbs and passion. his hands were everywhere, tracing the lines of your body with a hunger that was almost desperate. you felt his tattoo flutter against your neck as he kissed along your collarbone, sending a shiver down your spine. you pulled at his shirt, eager to feel his bare skin against yours. the fabric gave way, revealing his toned abs and the tattoo that was inked into the flesh at the base of his neck—a delicate monarch, its wings unfurling in an intricate dance.

his mouth found yours again, and the kiss grew more urgent. your hands fumbled with the buttons of his pants, and he groaned when you finally slipped your hand inside, wrapping your fingers around his hard length. he reciprocated, tugging at the hem of your dress, eager to explore what lay beneath. as the fabric was pushed aside, his eyes widened at the sight of your lacy underwear. “fuck,” he murmured, his eyes darkening with desire. “so fucking dirty.”

his words were a heady mix of praise and demand, sending a rush of heat to your core. your heart pounded in your chest as he pulled the dress over your head, leaving you in nothing but your bra and panties. the coolness of the room hit your skin, making your nipples pebble with excitement. his eyes roamed over you, and you felt exposed, but in the best way possible. his hands followed the path of his gaze, cupping your tits and gently rolling your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. a soft moan escaped your lips, and he took it as an invitation to lean in and suck one into his mouth. the sensation was electric, and you arched your back, pressing yourself closer to him.

his hands moved down to the waistband of your underwear, and with a quick motion, he slid them down your legs. you felt a moment of vulnerability, but it was quickly overshadowed by the desire coursing through your veins. jungkook kissed along your stomach, making his way down to the apex of your thighs. his tongue flicked out, teasing your clit, and you gripped the bed sheets tightly. “oh, god,” you breathed, your voice a desperate whisper.

his eyes never left yours as he positioned himself over you, his own pants discarded on the floor. he reached into the nightstand and pulled out a condom, ripping it open with his teeth before rolling it on. even in the dim light, you could see the intensity in his gaze, the raw need that mirrored your own. “are you sure?” he asked, his voice gruff with lust.

you nodded, and it was all he yearned for as he entered you. the feeling was overwhelming, a perfect mix of pleasure and pain that had you gasping. he paused, giving you a moment to adjust before he began to move. his thrusts were deep and slow at first, his eyes never leaving yours as he whispered filthy words in your ear, urging you to let go.

you did, moaning his name as you wrapped your legs around his waist. your hands dug into his back, and you could feel the tension in his muscles as he moved. your bodies fit together perfectly, like two puzzle pieces that had been searching for their match. the bed rocked gently under you, the rhythmic sound mixing with your ragged breaths and the slap of skin on skin.

you lost track of time as you both chased the high of climax. his dirty talk grew more intense, and your responses grew louder. it was a dance of dominance and submission, each of you pushing the other closer to the edge. when you finally reached it, your body convulsed around him, and you called out his name like a prayer. jungkook followed shortly after, his dick twitching as if it was his first time.

the morning light filtered through the curtains with a muted glow, casting a soft, hazy light across jihyo’s room. you stirred from sleep, the warmth of the bed a stark contrast to the chill of the previous night. as you slowly regained consciousness, your eyes fell upon the scene beside you. jungkook laid there, his presence so close that you could feel his breath against your skin. the shocking realization hit you as you took in the sight of him naked beside you.

panic surged through you as fragmented memories of the night before flickered in your mind. the kiss, the heat, the intensity—all of it came crashing back. the vividness of those moments left you feeling both disoriented and mortified. with trembling hands, you scrambled to gather your clothes, hastily dressing as you tried to make sense of the chaos.

in a frantic rush, you stumbled out of the room and down the stairs, your heart pounding in your chest. the house was still quiet, save for the soft murmurs of the early morning. wgen you reached the bottom, you were met with jihyo’s intense gaze. her expression was a mixture of concern and exasperation, a look that made you feel like you were about to face her wrath. “i could strangle you right now,” she said, her voice sharp and laced with an underlying tension. the threat in her words was softened only by the lack of her morning smoke, a ritual she hadn’t yet indulged in. you stood there, feeling a knot of fear tighten in your stomach. the scolding began, a tirade of reprimands that blended into a blur of guilt and embarrassment.

the weight of your actions pressed heavily upon you, and though you tried to focus on her words, your mind was elsewhere. the guilt of the night before, the uncertainty of what you had done, and the unanticipated consequences all swirled together in a disorienting mix. during class, her scolding continued, her frustration evident. you sat there, trying to stay composed as the minutes ticked by. the lecture on art and technique seemed distant, a backdrop to the internal turmoil you were experiencing. it was only when a familiar face appeared that you were jolted from your reverie.

the girl who had been with jungkook the previous morning walked in and took a seat with you and jihyo. she greeted you with a polite smile, and as she settled in, she mentioned needing help with her sculpture. you gave her your notes, watching her as she began to work with the clay, your mind still reeling from the events of the night. as she sculpted, your gaze inadvertently fell to her wrist. there, clearly visible, was a drawing of a monarch butterfly.

the sight of it sent a jolt through you, your stomach twisting in a sickening churn. the connection hit you like a physical blow, and the room seemed to spin around you. you were frozen, unable to tear your eyes away from the drawing that mirrored the one jungkook had drawn on you. unable to stay any longer, you excused yourself, the rush of emotions and physical discomfort becoming too overwhelming to ignore. you hurried to the bathroom, the need to escape the situation pressing heavily on you. once inside, you leaned over the sink and, overwhelmed by a combination of betrayal, hangover, and emotional turmoil, you began to vomit. each heave felt like it was ripping something deeper inside of you, the physical pain amplifying the emotional distress.

as you clung to the sink, the cool porcelain against your forehead offering a small comfort, you were consumed by a storm of conflicting feelings. the events of the night had left their mark, and now, the stark reality of the situation was unfolding with cruel clarity. as you stepped out of the bathroom, the heaviness in your chest felt almost tangible. the earlier discomfort was still fresh, and you were hoping for a moment of peace. instead, the moment you emerged, you heard a voice calling for you. you turned, only to see jungkook walking towards you with a grin that seemed far too bright given the situation.

“running out without a goodbye kiss? that’s pure evil,” he said, his tone light and teasing. but as you met his gaze, you saw no trace of irony or humor—just a genuine, unfaltering smile that made your stomach churn once again.

you forced yourself to look him in the eyes, trying to steady your emotions. “i just talked to soel,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “she has a butterfly tattoo on her wrist. the same one you drew on me.”

jungkook’s smile didn’t falter. Instead, he seemed unfazed by your revelation. “oh, that? i draw that on all my friends,” he said nonchalantly. “why does it bug you?”

the casualness of his response left you reeling. you stared at him, feeling a cold wave of betrayal wash over you. “is that what i am to you? just a friend?” his reaction was almost mechanical. “yeah,” he said, shrugging slightly. “is that an issue for you?”

the simple, matter-of-fact way he spoke was like a punch to the gut. you were stunned, the weight of his words crashing down on you like a tidal wave. the realization that you had misinterpreted his intentions, that your emotions had been tangled in a misunderstanding, left you feeling hollow. without another word, you turned away, your heart racing and your mind clouded with a storm of betrayal and shock. you walked briskly, your steps echoing with a sense of finality as you left jungkook behind. the turmoil inside you was a jumbled mess, each step away from him only amplifying the confusion and hurt.

the campus was bustling with the usual midday energy as you joined jihyo, minho, and minyoung for lunch. you sat down at the table with them, the usual chatter and laughter around you feeling like a distant echo. as they talked animatedly about their day, you remained silent, the weight of the morning’s events heavy on your shoulders.

minho finally broke through the silence, noticing the way you said nothing. “what’s wrong?” he asked, his tone gentle but concerned. the question was like a dam breaking. you tried to hold back the tears, but the effort proved futile. they spilled over, each drop a mix of frustration, sadness, and disappointment. the raw emotion that had been building up inside you was finally released, and you found yourself unable to stop the flood.

through your tears, you recounted the events of the night before—the drunken mistake, the disheartening conversation with jungkook, and the sting of betrayal. your voice trembled with each word, the hurt and confusion palpable as you shared your story.

as you spoke, you could see the shock and horror on their faces. minho’s eyes widened with disbelief, and minyoung’s expression turned to one of sympathy. but it was jihyo’s reaction that truly struck you. her face darkened with anger, and her eyes blazed with a fierce resolve. “might actually fucking kill him,” she said with a steely determination, her words delivered in a low, dangerous tone. the promise was almost soothing in its intensity, a sign of her fierce loyalty and anger on your behalf.

you shook your head, feeling a fresh wave of guilt wash over you. “no, don’t,” you managed to say between sobs. “it’s my fault. i was too trusting. i should have seen it coming.”

her expression softened as she reached out to you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “don’t blame yourself,” she said firmly. “you didn’t do anything wrong. he’s the one who failed you. focus on yourself and your work. you deserve better than this.” but despite her reassurances, you found it difficult to shift your focus. jungkook’s smile, the way he had looked at you, the crushing realization of his indifference—all of it was still vividly etched in your mind. the pain of the betrayal felt like a persistent ache, a constant reminder of your misplaced trust and the emotional turmoil it had caused.

as lunch continued, you struggled to engage in the conversation. your mind kept drifting back to him, replaying the moments and words that had shattered your sense of stability. the comfort of jihyo’s words was overshadowed by the persistent sting of your own emotions. the rest of the afternoon passed in a blur, the echoes of your thoughts louder than any external noise. the distraction of the campus environment did little to ease your turmoil, and the weight of your feelings continued to anchor you in a state of unresolved pain.

in the solitude of the studio, the air was heavy with the smell of clay and the faint traces of your exhaustion. the sculpture in front of you was nearly complete, a painstakingly crafted representation of a woman’s head—her expression a haunting blend of serenity and despair. the piece symbolized a submission to love that consumed and overwhelmed. her eyes were hollowed out, the sockets deep and dark, conveying an intense and tragic devotion. the gouged-out eyes were not merely a detail; they were the very essence of her surrender, the ultimate sacrifice for the one she loved.

your hands trembled slightly as you made the final adjustments, the weight of your own emotions interwoven with the piece. you took a step back to admire your work, your heart heavy with the sense of completion mingled with the burden of what it represented. the sculpture was a mirror to your own turbulent feelings, capturing the essence of devotion and its potential for destruction.

the quiet of the studio was suddenly disrupted by a voice behind you. “where are her eyes?” jungkook asked, his tone inquisitive yet casual. you stiffened, momentarily frozen by the intrusion. your gaze remained fixed on the sculpture, trying to compose yourself. “she gouged her eyes out,” you said softly, your voice carrying the weight of the sculpture’s meaning. “simply because her lover wanted her to. she would do anything for him.”

jungkook’s footsteps approached, and you felt him come closer, his presence a palpable force in the room. he stood behind you, his gaze fixed on the sculpture as he admired your work. “it’s a beautiful piece,” he said, his voice sincere but carrying an undercurrent of something else.

you kept your back to him, your attention focused on the sculpture, trying to ignore the effect his presence had on you. but then, you felt him press closer, his body nearly touching your back. he leaned in, his breath warm and tickling your ear as he gently pushed aside your hair. “are you mad at me?” he asked, his voice a low whisper. you struggled to maintain your composure, the tension between you palpable. “i have no reason to be,” you replied, though your voice betrayed a hint of uncertainty.

you felt him smirk against your skin, the touch of his lips sending shivers down your spine. his kisses, light and teasing, trailed down your neck, each touch intensifying your internal conflict. “we shouldn’t be doing this,” you murmured, your voice wavering. his breath was hot against your ear as he replied, “that’s what makes it so fun.”

your resistance wavered as he continued to kiss your neck, the pleasure mingling with your sense of guilt and confusion. You knew it was wrong, yet the allure of the moment was powerful. finally, you turned around to face him, the decision made despite your inner turmoil. you allowed him to kiss you, the contact both electrifying and disorienting.

the kiss was intense, a clash of emotions and desires that left you breathless. jungkook’s touch was both familiar and foreign, a reminder of the complications that had arisen between you. as you surrendered to the kiss, the studio’s quiet solitude seemed to collapse around you, leaving only the swirling mixture of passion and regret. in the midst of the embrace, the sculpture remained a silent witness, its hollow eyes a stark reminder of the emotional sacrifice and the consuming nature of love. the art piece and the reality of your feelings intertwined, creating a poignant reflection of the complicated interplay between desire and devotion.

his hands found their way to your waist, his grip firm as he pulled you closer to him. you felt his arousal pressing against you, and despite your inner reservations, your body responded instinctively. the attraction was undeniable, a magnetic force that seemed to have a will of its own. his kiss grew deeper, more demanding, as his hands began to explore your body. your own hands roamed over his chest, feeling the muscles tighten beneath your touch. the fabric of your clothes felt like a barrier to the connection you both craved, and without a word, jungkook began to remove them. the anticipation grew as each layer fell away, revealing your skin to the cool studio air.

you found yourself bent over the sculpting table, jungkook’s hands tracing your spine, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. he whispered dirty words into your ear, his voice thick with desire, and you felt your knees wobble. the reality of the situation washed over you—the illicitness of it, the raw need you felt for each other—and you realized that this was what you had been craving, despite the guilt.

his fingers dipped lower, finding the wetness between your legs, and you gasped into his mouth. jungkook’s touch grew more insistent, and the sculpture beneath your palms seemed to pulse with the rhythm of your heart. you were no longer the artist—you were the art, being shaped and molded by his desires.

his hand slid away, and you heard the sound of his belt buckle. your heart raced as he positioned himself behind you, the tip of his erection teasing your entrance. “are you sure?” you managed to ask, the tremor in your voice betraying your nerves. “do you want me?” he replied, his voice a challenge. your body answered for you, arching back, begging for him to fill you. and with one powerful thrust, he did.

the sensation was overwhelming—his bare skin against yours, the heat of his body surrounding you. his grip tightened on your hips as he began to move, the rhythm punctuated by your moans and the slap of skin against skin. the intensity grew with each stroke, the pleasure a wildfire that consumed every rational thought. you could feel his breath on your neck, his voice a gruff whisper of praise and desire. your eyes closed, and the sculpture, the studio, the world outside—it all faded away, leaving only the two of you and the primal dance of your bodies.

his thrusts grew harder, deeper, as he claimed you from behind. the sculpture was forgotten, a symbol of a love that was now a tangible reality in the form of this explosive union. you reached back, your hand finding the base of his cock, and you felt his body tense with pleasure. the air was thick with passion, the scent of sex and clay a heady mix that intoxicated you both. jungkook’s movements grew erratic, and you knew he was close. with one final, powerful push, he reached his climax, his warmth filling you as he groaned your name.

you collapsed onto the table, spent and trembling, as jungkook leaned over you, his breath ragged. for a moment, there was only silence, the two of you trying to find your bearings in the aftermath of the storm.

but the quiet was broken by the sudden sound of the studio door opening, and you both froze. your eyes widened with panic, and jungkook’s grip on you tightened. “we can’t get caught,” you whispered, your heart racing with fear and excitement. he smirked, his eyes dark with mischief. “we won’t,” he assured you, his voice low and seductive. “not until we’re finished, anyway.” the tension grew as the footsteps grew louder, and jungkook began to move again, slower this time, his strokes long and deliberate. the game of hiding in plain sight was thrilling, a dangerous edge to the passion that had overtaken you both.

the newcomer to the studio called out a greeting, and his hand covered your mouth, muffling any sound you might make. you bit down on your lip, stifling a moan, as he continued to fuck you with an urgent need that seemed to defy the danger of being discovered. your heart hammered in your chest, the thrill of the forbidden mixing with the fear of being caught.

his movements grew more deliberate, his hips grinding into yours with a silent rhythm that matched the beat of your racing pulse. you could feel the eyes of the sculpture on you, the hollow sockets seeming to judge you even as you writhed in pleasure beneath his touch. the footsteps grew closer, and his grip tightened. he leaned in, his teeth grazing your ear as he whispered, “be quiet, baby. come for me.” the words sent a jolt of electricity through your body, and you did as he asked, your orgasm building like a crescendo.

just as the person entered the room, you reached the peak, your body convulsing around jungkook’s cock. he groaned softly, the sound vibrating against your neck, and you clamped down on his hand to keep from crying out. the wave of pleasure washed over you, leaving you trembling and exposed. his strokes grew shallower, his cock still hard and pulsing inside you. the footsteps stopped just outside the partition that separated the main studio from your makeshift private corner. the tension was unbearable, a tight coil of excitement and fear that made every nerve ending in your body feel alive.

his eyes locked with yours, and you saw the challenge in them. you knew he was enjoying this as much as he enjoyed the sex itself—the risk, the danger, the thrill of the secret. your breathing was ragged, your body still quaking from the orgasm that had torn through you, and yet you remained silent, waiting. the person in the room spoke, their voice muffled by the wall of clay that separated you. jungkook’s thrusts grew more gentle now, almost tender, as he slowly pulled out of you. you felt the warmth of his seed inside you, a stark reminder of what had just happened.

you both waited, your breaths syncing as the footsteps grew fainter, moving away from your hiding spot. once the room was empty again, jungkook leaned down to kiss you, his lips brushing yours with a softness that seemed at odds with the ferocity of your encounter. “see?” he murmured, his voice a low purr. “no one will ever know our little secret.”

you pushed him away gently, sitting up and adjusting your clothes. your mind was racing, a whirlwind of emotions—shame, exhilaration, fear of being found out. but there was also something else, a dark satisfaction that seemed to hum in the air.

the sculpture loomed before you, the woman’s expression now a reflection of your own complex feelings. jungkook pulled on his shirt, his eyes never leaving yours. “we can’t do this again,” you said, the finality in your voice unmistakable. but as he zipped up his pants, the smug smile on his face told you that he didn’t believe you. and deep down, neither did you. the line had been crossed, and the taste of the forbidden was too sweet to ignore.

his eyes held a promise of more to come, and despite yourself, you felt your body respond. the next chapter of this illicit story was already being written, the plot thickening with every shared glance and stolen touch. and you knew that no matter how much you tried to resist, you would be drawn back into the tumultuous dance of desire and deceit that was your relationship with him.

as jungkook stepped out of the studio, his silhouette fading into the dim light of the hallway, you were left alone with the echo of his departure. you hastily pulled your clothes back on, your hands trembling uncontrollably. each movement was a struggle against the storm of emotions raging inside you.

the studio, once a sanctuary of creation, now felt like a cage closing in around you. the quiet was oppressive, amplifying the shattering of your composure. you fought to hold back the tears, but the effort proved futile. they began to fall, each drop a release of the turmoil you had been trying to suppress. you sank to the floor, your body trembling with the force of your sobs. the statue stood before you, its eyeless gaze a haunting reflection of your own despair. the sculpture, a representation of sacrifice and devotion, seemed to mock you now. its hollow eyes, gouged out as a symbol of surrender, mirrored the emptiness and heartbreak you felt inside.

unable to bear the sight, you were overcome by a furious, anguished energy. the intensity of your emotions erupted uncontrollably. you launched yourself at the statue, your hands and feet flailing as you knocked it over. the crash of clay against the floor was loud, a jarring sound that matched the violence of your grief. you kicked at the broken pieces, the fragments scattering across the studio floor. the destruction was cathartic yet devastating, a physical manifestation of the chaos within you. as the statue lay shattered, the pieces symbolized the fragmented state of your heart. each kick was a release, each broken shard a representation of your pain.

exhausted and overwhelmed, you slid down against the wall, the tears still flowing freely. the destruction of the sculpture had not lessened the weight of your sorrow. instead, it left you staring at the remnants, the once-beautiful work now reduced to a broken mess. you continued to cry, your body wracked with sobs as you gazed at the ruined statue. the eyeless gaze of the sculpture, now in fragments, seemed to reach out to you in a final, tragic understanding. the intense emotion of the piece was mirrored in your own shattered state. the studio, with its scattered pieces and your anguished cries, was a poignant testament to the overwhelming pain and anger you felt.

the contrast between the beauty of the sculpture and the violence of its destruction spoke to the raw intensity of your emotions. the studio, once a space of artistic expression, had become a stage for your most profound heartache. as you wept, the remnants of the statue lay around you, a somber reminder of the intricate connection between art, love, and the devastating effects of betrayal. in the end, as your sobs quieted and you sat amidst the broken pieces, the sight of the ruined sculpture served as a haunting reflection of your own emotional wreckage. the tears continued to fall, mingling with the clay fragments, a final, tragic testament to the depth of your despair.

as you gathered your belongings, the weight of the night’s events clung heavily to your shoulders. the studio, once a place of solace and creativity, now felt like a space of ruin and disillusionment. your hands moved mechanically, shoving your scattered materials into your bag. each motion was devoid of purpose, driven by a numbing emptiness rather than intent.

the soft sounds of your packing were abruptly interrupted by distant noises—low grunts and muffled groans—emanating from the studio down the hall. the sounds were raw and unsettling, a contrast to the quiet destruction you had left behind. your curiosity and dread compelled you to investigate, despite the turmoil within you.

you approached the door to the neighboring studio, its glass panel offering a distorted view into the dimly lit room. peering through, your heart sank as you recognized the scene unfolding inside. jungkook was there, engaged with a girl you couldn’t identify. the sight of them, entwined in an intimate and brutal display, was a dagger to your already fragile heart.

the cold reality of the moment was a sharp contrast to the warmth you had briefly experienced with him. you were paralyzed, unable to tear your gaze away from the scene before you. each grunt and moan was a reminder of your own vulnerability and the painful contrast between the connection you had felt and the stark betrayal unfolding before you. the sight of him with another, the passion and disregard apparent in their movements, left you feeling hollow. you had no tears left to shed; the emotional reservoir had been drained dry by the night's turmoil. the image of their bodies, entwined and fervent, was seared into your mind—a brutal symbol of your own sense of abandonment and betrayal.

turning away from the glass, you felt an eerie emptiness consume you. the world seemed to blur as you walked down the hallway, your steps heavy and unsteady. your mind was a void, a blank slate where thoughts and emotions once swirled with intensity. the encounter had left you drained, each step echoing with the weight of your disillusionment.

the cold air of the hallway seemed to press against you, a stark reminder of the isolation you felt. as you made your way home, the world around you was a distant haze. the vibrant life of the campus and the remnants of your art—the shattered statue, the chaotic emotions—faded into the background, leaving only the crushing emptiness of your thoughts. each step felt like a journey through fog, the clarity of the night’s events slipping away with each movement. the betrayal, the emotional wreckage, and the raw intensity of the moments you had witnessed had left you numb. you walked forward, but within, you remained frozen—trapped in the silence of your own heartache.

the sun rose reluctantly on the campus the next day, its light casting a dull glow through the classroom windows. you stumbled into your class, exhausted and hollow-eyed from a night spent in sleepless turmoil. the world outside felt distant, its vibrancy lost to you as you trudged through the motions of daily life. your movements were mechanical as you took your place among the scattered students. the studio, once a sanctuary of creativity, now felt foreign and unwelcoming. the empty canvas in front of you was a glaring testament to your lack of inspiration. the urge to sculpt, to create, was absent, replaced by a void of emotional fatigue and despair.

jihyo tried her best to offer comfort. her words were gentle, her presence a constant reassurance in the face of your turmoil. despite her efforts, the pain within you remained insurmountable. her attempts to console you seemed to fall short of reaching the deep chasm of your heartache. the betrayal and the haunting images from the previous night left you adrift, unable to focus or find solace.

the professor’s voice broke through the haze of your thoughts, announcing a new student would be joining the class. you barely registered his words, your mind elsewhere, wandering through the fog of your sleepless night. it wasn’t until you heard the shuffle of footsteps and the murmur of surprise among your peers that you looked up.

your heart skipped a beat as you locked eyes with the new student. it was jackson. the same jackson who had once been a part of your world, now standing before you with a familiar, if unwelcome, presence. the shock of seeing him in this context, amid your already tumultuous emotions, was almost too much to bear. he met your gaze with an expression that was a mixture of apprehension and resolve. the smile he once wore with ease now seemed strained, an acknowledgment of the shared past that had ended in such distressing terms. the air in the room felt charged, the atmosphere thick with an unspoken tension. his arrival was a jarring reminder of old wounds, reopened with his unexpected reappearance.

you forced yourself to focus, trying to ignore the way your heart raced and the way your mind spun with fragmented memories of him. the professor introduced jackson, guiding him to a seat, and the room’s atmosphere shifted. the familiar face was a painful reminder of a time when things had been different, when trust and affection had colored your world.

jihyo, noticing the way your gaze lingered on him, placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. you offered her a weak smile, her concern evident in her eyes. yet, despite her support, the emotional storm inside you remained uncalm. you felt as though you were caught in the eye of a hurricane, where the calm was an illusion masking the chaos within.

as jackson settled into his new spot, you couldn't help but feel a pang of anxiety. the familiarity of his presence, combined with the unresolved issues from your past, created a sense of disquiet. you tried to refocus on your work, but the blank canvas before you was a stark reminder of the numbness that had consumed your creativity. the rest of the class droned on, his presence a silent but heavy weight in the room. every glance in his direction felt like a step back into a storm you had barely escaped. your hands remained idle, the sculpting tools untouched as you struggled to regain some semblance of normalcy.

the day dragged on, each minute a reminder of the fractured pieces of your recent past. as the bell finally rang, signaling the end of the class, you gathered your things with a sense of resignation. the encounter with him had been a jarring disruption, but it was also a harsh reminder that the echoes of past relationships often resurface when least expected. you walked out of the classroom, your mind still clouded with the weight of your emotions. the campus, with its usual bustle of activity, felt distant and surreal. the familiar paths and faces seemed altered, as though you were navigating through a dream that had turned unsettlingly real.

the day seemed to drag endlessly as you walked out of the classroom, feeling the heavy weight of jackson’s unexpected reappearance. the campus, once a place of refuge and creativity, now felt like a labyrinth of memories and unresolved emotions. you walked with a purpose, desperate to escape the lingering sense of disquiet that his presence had stirred within you.

as you moved through the crowded hallways, lost in your thoughts, a voice called out to you, breaking through the fog of your mind. you turned slowly, your heart skipping a beat as you saw hin standing a few steps away. his expression was earnest, eyes filled with a mix of regret and hope. for a moment, you felt paralyzed, caught between the urge to flee and the reluctant desire to hear him out.

jackson took a hesitant step towards you, his hand reaching out to gently grasp your wrist. the touch was light, almost pleading, and you could feel the warmth of his skin through your thin sleeve. his eyes were filled with an apologetic softness that seemed to convey a depth of remorse you hadn’t anticipated. “what are you doing here?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. you struggled to keep your emotions in check, the memory of the sculpture and the pain it had caused still fresh in your mind.

his gaze dropped to the floor for a moment before he looked up again, his eyes meeting yours with a sincere gravity. “i wanted to focus solely on my work,” he said, his voice laced with an honesty that was both surprising and unsettling. “it’s been difficult since you left. i lost my muse.”

the words struck you with a sharp edge, stirring a storm of conflicting emotions within you. the image of the sculpture, the public humiliation, and the way he had dismissed your feelings—all of it came rushing back. you remembered the pain and betrayal that had clouded your heart.

“you don’t get to just come back and pretend like everything’s fine,” you said, your voice trembling. “you can’t erase what you did.”

his face fell, and he took a deep breath before speaking. “i know,” he said quietly. “and I’m sorry. i had the sculpture removed. i understand that nothing will ever be the same. i just wanted to let you know that, if nothing else, i’d like to be your friend.”

his words were both unexpected and profound, offering a semblance of closure that you hadn’t anticipated. the notion of friendship, after everything that had transpired, felt both distant and comforting. you stood there, absorbing the gravity of his apology and the genuine regret that seemed to hang in the air between you. for a moment, the chaos inside you quieted, replaced by a fragile sense of peace. his offer of friendship was an olive branch, a gesture that acknowledged the hurt while striving for something different. yet, the wound was still fresh, and the idea of moving past it was daunting.

“i need time,” you said finally, your voice steady but tinged with a quiet resolve. “i can’t just pick up where we left off.” he nodded, his expression a blend of understanding and sadness. “i know,” he replied softly. “take all the time you need. i just wanted you to know i’m here if you ever want to talk.” with a final, lingering look, he turned and began to walk away. each step seemed to echo with the weight of the past and the uncertain promise of the future. you watched him go, your mind awash with a storm of emotions—anger, relief, and a bittersweet sense of closure. as you stood there alone in the corridor, the bustling noise of the campus seemed distant, as if you were enveloped in a cocoon of introspection. the conversation with jackson had stirred up old wounds, but had also offered a glimmer of resolution.

lunch on campus was always a comforting routine. the sun was high, casting dappled shadows through the leafy canopy above. you, jihyo, and minho had claimed your usual spot at a worn wooden table, the comforting hum of student chatter surrounding you. jihyo animatedly recounted her latest project, while minho nodded, occasionally chiming in with his dry wit. you were halfway through a bite of your sandwich when you saw him—jackson. he passed by with his characteristic easy grace, a slight smile playing on his lips as his eyes met yours. respectfully, he sat on a separate bench a few feet away, not wanting to intrude.

jihyo's eyes narrowed, her conversation with minho faltering as she followed your gaze. “why is he here?” she muttered, her voice barely audible but dripping with disdain. you stood up, your decision made in an instant. as you approached him, his smile faded slightly, replaced with a look of concern.

“is everything okay?” he asked, his voice soft, yet tinged with uncertainty. “come sit with us,” you replied, your tone gentle yet firm.

“are you sure?” his hesitation was palpable.

you nodded, offering him a reassuring smile. with a grateful nod, he followed you back to the table. minho raised an eyebrow in mild surprise, but it was jihyo's reaction that was most striking. her eyes widened, and she sat back, crossing her arms tightly across her chest.

“jackson, this is minho,” you introduced, and he gave a polite nod. “and this is jihyo.” jackson extended his hand to her, but she simply stared him down, her gaze icy. “she may have forgotten what you did, but i sure haven’t,” she said, her voice like steel.

he withdrew his hand slowly, nodding in acknowledgment. “i understand,” he replied softly. you placed a comforting hand on jihyo’s arm. “he came for a fresh start,” you explained, your voice calm and steady. “he even got the sculpture taken down.” jihyo’s skeptical glance lingered on him, but she didn’t press further. the tension in the air was almost tangible, but his presence gradually began to feel less intrusive.

he smiled at you, a look of genuine gratitude and perhaps a hint of hope in his eyes. you smiled back, feeling a sense of warmth and relief. the past might not be easily forgotten, but in that moment, it felt like a step towards something better, something new. as the conversation slowly resumed, you couldn’t help but feel that this lunch, under the sunlit canopy, marked the beginning of a significant change—a moment of reconciliation and new beginnings.

unbeknownst to you, a familiar figure stood in the background, having noticed your whole ordeal. jungkook, leaning casually against a nearby tree, had been chatting with his friends, their laughter mingling with the warm air. but his attention had been subtly drawn to you the moment jackson appeared. his dark eyes followed every movement, every gesture you made. the way you approached jackson with a calm demeanor, the soft reassurance in your voice, and the unyielding kindness in your eyes—it all piqued his curiosity. his friends were engrossed in a lively debate about the upcoming exhibition, but he found himself only half-listening, his mind occupied with the scene unfolding at your table.

he watched as you led jackson back, noticed the tension between him and jihyo, and observed the way you mediated with such grace. jungkook brushed a lock of hair from his forehead, trying to focus back on his friends' conversation. yet, the feeling tugging at his heartstrings was undeniable, a peculiar mix of curiosity and something he couldn’t quite identify.

the laughter of his friends brought him back to the present moment, and he forced a smile, joining in their conversation. but his eyes betrayed him, darting back to you occasionally. he noted the genuine smile you exchanged with jackson, a smile that seemed to light up your entire being. he couldn’t put his finger on it. was it admiration? perhaps a touch of jealousy? he shook his head, trying to dismiss the thoughts. after all, he had no reason to feel this way. you were just another girl, albeit a talented one, whose work he respected. yet, there was something in the way you handled the situation that stirred something deep within him.

back in the studio, the familiar scent of clay and the quiet hum of creativity enveloped you. the light filtering through the tall windows cast an ethereal glow on your workspace, illuminating the clay sculpture taking shape beneath your deft fingers. you shuddered, recalling the tumultuous scene you had caused, the emotional outburst that had led you to destroy your previous work of art.

determined to push back any thoughts of jungkook, you focused entirely on the clay before you. each movement was elegant, deliberate, as your hands moved with a grace born from years of practice. your mind, however, raced with a whirlwind of emotions—freedom, butterflies, liberty, independence. the sculpture was coming to life beneath your touch: an extended hand, its fingers gently curved, and a string of butterflies, delicate and intricate, laid one on top of the other. they seemed to be chasing the freedom they so desperately desired. yet, as you worked, their wings began to wither, the fragile clay starting to crumble under your touch. they had flown for so long, yearning for independence, before finally finding solace in the palm of a hand. it was a poignant realization—that the only thing they needed more than freedom was the touch of love.

you were so absorbed in your work that you barely noticed when jackson entered the studio. he said nothing, simply standing and watching you. his presence was quiet, respectful, and he observed as you caressed the butterflies, shaping each one with meticulous care. “it’s a beautiful piece,” he finally said, his voice soft, breaking the silence.

startled, you looked up, your eyes meeting his. you hadn’t realized he was there, so engrossed in your work. “jackson,” you breathed, your hands stilling. “i didn’t see you come in.”

he offered a gentle smile, stepping closer to the sculpture. “i didn’t want to disturb you. you looked so focused.” you glanced back at the sculpture, the extended hand and the fragile butterflies. “they’re chasing freedom,” you explained, your voice thoughtful. “but their wings are falling apart. they’ve been flying for so long, seeking independence, but they realize that what they need more than freedom is love.”

jackson studied the piece for a moment, nodding slowly. “you have a way of seeing the world, of expressing it through your art. i was wrong. you know art better than anyone.” his words were sincere, and they touched you deeply. you smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. as he reached out and brushed a strand of hair from your face, a tender gesture, it struck you—you knew art, its nuances, its depth. nevertheless, you didn't know love. that was a realm you had yet to truly understand.

the studio felt different now, not just a place of creation, but a space where emotions, complex and raw, intertwined with every sculpted form. and in that moment, with jackson's reassuring presence and the delicate clay butterflies, you realized there was more to learn, more to feel, beyond the confines of your art.

his eyes, warm and curious, met yours. “what has you so fascinated with butterflies?” he asked, his voice soft yet probing. you paused, your mind inevitably drifting back to jungkook. the memory of the monarch tattoo on the back of his neck was vivid, a symbol of his own desperate need to chase freedom. the thought made your blood run cold, a shiver running down your spine. you forced a smile, trying to push the unsettling thoughts away. “i admire them,” you said, your voice steady but distant. “they chase their own freedom, rather than love.”

his gaze softened, understanding flickering in his eyes. “everyone deserves love more than anything,” he replied gently. you said nothing, the words lingering in the air between you. the silence was filled with unspoken emotions, a depth of feeling that you couldn’t quite articulate. “especially you,” he added, his voice barely above a whisper.

the moment felt fragile, delicate like the butterflies you sculpted. before you could respond, the door to the studio swung open, and jihyo walked in, her presence breaking the intimate silence.

“hey, you two,” she called out, her tone light and cheerful. “the group's going out for drinks. you’re both welcome to join.” you hesitated, the weight of the day’s emotions still heavy on your shoulders. the idea of socializing felt overwhelming, but before you could decline, jackson spoke up.

“you deserve a break,” he said, his eyes meeting yours with a reassuring smile. “come on, it’ll be fun.” with a sigh, you nodded, feeling a mix of reluctance and gratitude. his encouragement gave you the push you needed. the prospect of stepping out of the studio, even for a short while, seemed like a small reprieve.

as you gathered your things, the studio’s comforting hum faded into the background. you cast one last look at your sculpture, the extended hand and the fragile butterflies, and felt a renewed sense of purpose. perhaps, amidst the chaos and the quest for freedom, there was room for love too. walking out with jackson and jihyo, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was shifting, a subtle change in the air. the evening stretched ahead of you, filled with possibilities, and for the first time in a while, you felt a glimmer of hope.

the walk to the bar was filled with a mixture of anticipation and unease. the streets were bathed in the soft glow of streetlights, casting long shadows that danced with each step you took. jihyo walked ahead, her laughter echoing down the empty street, while jackson stayed close by your side. as you approached the entrance of the bar, a sudden chill washed over you, sending a shiver down your spine. you couldn't quite place the feeling, but it was a foreboding sense that something was about to happen. the moment you walked in, the dim lighting and the low hum of chatter enveloped you. But it was the pair of dark eyes that you locked with immediately that sent a jolt through your entire being.

it was him, it always seemed to be him. he was sitting at a table with a few friends, his posture relaxed but his gaze intense. your body tensed involuntarily, and jackson, ever perceptive, noticed immediately. he placed a comforting arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. “ease up,” he whispered in your ear, his voice calm and reassuring. “i’ve got your back.”

you finally broke the gaze, nodding at jackson, and made your way to a table as far from jungkook as possible. jackson's arm remained draped around you, a steadying presence in the storm of emotions brewing inside you. the two of you indulged in drinks, jackson leaning in close to whisper in your ear. “just so you know,” he said with a playful grin, “i’m a lightweight.” you laughed, the tension easing slightly. “i know,” you whispered back, your smile widening.

despite your attempts to ignore him, you could feel jungkook’s eyes on you the entire time. he downed his drink, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he watched you with jackson. you could almost feel the intensity of his thoughts, wondering who jackson was and why you were with him. minho’s voice broke through the haze of tension. “how about a round of darts?” he suggested, his tone light and carefree.

your mind immediately flashed back to playing darts with jungkook, the way he had stood behind you, guiding your hand, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered instructions. the memory was sharp and painful, and you shook your head. “no, thank you,” you replied politely, trying to keep your voice steady. jackson noticed the flicker of emotion in your eyes. “i’ll play for you,” he offered, a confident smile on his lips.

you nodded, grateful for his support. jackson stood up, heading over to the dartboard, and jungkook’s eyes narrowed. his fuse had blown, the thin veneer of calm shattering. “i’ll play against you,” he announced, his voice low and challenging.

the room went quiet, the tension palpable. your face went pale, and you glanced at jackson, who scoffed, clearly unfazed by his challenge. “fine,” he said coolly. “let’s play.”

the game began, and the atmosphere was thick with tension. each throw of the dart was accompanied by backhanded remarks, the words sharp and biting. “nice throw,” jungkook commented, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “didn’t know you had it in you.” jackson smirked, his eyes never leaving the dartboard. “you’d be surprised what i can do,” he replied smoothly. “unlike some people, i don’t need to show off.”

jungkook’s eyes flashed with anger. “careful,” he said, his voice dangerously low. “you might bite off more than you can chew.” jackson shrugged, his expression unfazed. “i think i’ll manage,” he said, his voice steady. the game continued, each round more intense than the last. finally, with a final, precise throw, jackson won. he turned to you, a triumphant smile on his face, and you couldn’t help but hug him congratulatory. his embrace was warm and reassuring, a stark contrast to the cold glare jungkook sent your way.

his gaze never left the two of you, his eyes dark and stormy. the tension in the air was almost suffocating, but in jackson’s arms, you felt a sense of safety and support. the night was far from over, but for now, you allowed yourself to bask in the moment, grateful for the small victories amidst the chaos.

the tension inside the bar had become suffocating, a palpable force that seemed to press down on you. excusing yourself, you made your way to the door, needing a moment of solitude to clear your mind. as you stood up, jackson placed a gentle kiss on your cheek, his lips warm and reassuring. “hurry back,” he said softly, his eyes full of warmth. but you didn’t miss the way jungkook’s gaze hardened, his jaw clenching as he watched the small exchange.

you stepped outside, the cool night air a welcome relief. reaching into your pocket, you pulled out a cigarette, the flick of the lighter breaking the stillness. as you took the first drag, the smoke curled around you, its familiar scent grounding you in the moment. your peace was short-lived, however. a voice broke through the quiet, low and unmistakable.

“is that your boyfriend?” you didn’t turn around. instead, you scoffed, exhaling a plume of smoke. “he’s my ex-boyfriend.”

jungkook’s tone was unreadable as he remarked, “you two seem close.” you took another drag, the cigarette glowing softly in the darkness. “we have history,” you replied. “we might even make up at some point.”

he laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. “don’t even think about it,” he said, his voice hardening. finally, you turned to face him, anger flaring in your chest. “what does it have to do with you?”

he took a step closer, his eyes locked onto yours. “the sight of you with another man makes me unreasonably angry,” he confessed, his voice low and intense. you were silent, your heart pounding as he stepped even closer. his presence was overwhelming, the air between you crackling with unspoken tension. without breaking eye contact, he reached out, taking the cigarette from your hand. he brought it to his lips, taking a slow puff, a small smile playing on his lips.

“mind your own business,” you said, your voice shaking slightly. “we’re nothing but friends, according to you.” he took another puff before leaning in, his gaze never wavering. in a swift motion, he pulled you in for a kiss. for a moment, you kissed him back, lost in the familiar warmth and intensity. but reality snapped back, and you pushed him away, anger and confusion swirling inside you.

“i have no interest in playing your games anymore,” you said firmly, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside. he was taken aback, his expression one of surprise and hurt, but he stayed silent. you stepped back, your eyes meeting his one last time. “stick to your usual players,” you told him, your voice laced with finality.

turning on your heel, you walked back into the bar, leaving jungkook standing alone in the night. the door closed behind you, the noise and warmth of the bar enveloping you once more. jackson looked up as you returned, concern flickering in his eyes, but you gave him a reassuring smile, trying to push the encounter from your mind. as you rejoined the group, the weight of the moment lingered, a heavy reminder of the complicated web of emotions you were entangled in. the night carried on, the air thick with unspoken words and unresolved feelings.

the night blurred as you indulged in the haze of alcohol, the edges of your reality softening with each drink. jungkook had returned to the bar, his presence a sharp contrast to the numbness that enveloped you. he made a deliberate effort to ignore you and jackson, his attention directed toward the girl beside him. she was a stranger to him, her name unimportant as she pressed kisses to his neck and traced her fingers along his collarbone.

you hadn't planned on drinking as much as you did. but when you caught a glimpse of the butterfly on the girl's wrist, the sight stung like a needle, memories of jungkook's monarch tattoo flooding back, memories of your own cherished drawing flooding back. you stared at the bottom of your glass, realizing you had lost count of how many times it had been filled and emptied.

jihyo noticed first, her eyes filled with sympathy as she took the glass from your hand, ignoring your feeble protests. jackson, his expression a mix of concern and exasperation, leaned in close. “you've had too much,” he murmured, his voice gentle yet firm. you wanted to argue, to push away his words, but the truth of them settled heavily on your shoulders. you felt too relaxed, your movements sluggish and your thoughts muddled. jackson announced to the group that he was taking you home, his tone leaving no room for debate.

that was when jungkook's attention was drawn back to you. he watched, his eyes darkening with an emotion he couldn't name, as jackson helped you to your feet. jungkook's heart twisted painfully as he saw the way you clung to him, your fingers gripping his shirt as if it were the only thing keeping you upright. he wanted to intervene, to take you in his arms and carry you home himself, but the weight of his own pride held him back. all he could do was watch as jackson guided you out of the bar, the girl's touch losing its allure entirely.

the walk home was a stumbling journey, your words slurring together in a drunken rant about what an asshole jungkook was. jackson did his best to console you, his voice soothing even as a pang of jealousy tightened in his chest. the sight of you in pain, tears glistening in your eyes, was almost more than he could bear.

when you finally reached your front door, he paused, his hands gentle as he steadied you. “seeing you cry was one of the worst experiences of my life,” he confessed, his voice low and earnest. “any man who makes you cry doesn't deserve you.” you looked at him, the sincerity in his eyes cutting through the fog of alcohol. he leaned in, pressing a final kiss to your cheek, the touch tender and bittersweet. “take care of yourself,” he whispered before turning to leave, the weight of his unspoken feelings lingering in the air.

you watched him go, your heart heavy with the tumult of emotions swirling inside you. the night was quiet now, the world around you still as you stood on your doorstep, the echo of jackson's words ringing in your ears. inside, the emptiness of your home seemed to mirror the void in your heart. you stumbled to your room, collapsing onto your bed, your mind replaying the events of the night. the taste of jungkook's kiss still lingered on your lips, a reminder of the complicated web of feelings you couldn't untangle. as sleep finally claimed you, your dreams were a tangled mess of memories and emotions, a reflection of the chaos that had become your reality.

the next day dawned with a dreary sky, the clouds heavy and swollen with impending rain. the rhythmic patter of raindrops against your window was a somber lullaby, pulling you from the clutches of a restless sleep. you groaned, the pounding in your head a relentless reminder of the previous night's excesses. forcing yourself out of bed, you prepared for the day, each movement deliberate and slow, as if the weight of your thoughts had seeped into your very bones.

the campus was a blur of umbrellas and hurried footsteps, the rain a persistent curtain that blurred the edges of your vision. you pulled your jacket tighter, shivering as the cold droplets kissed your skin. as you made your way to your morning class, a voice called out, stopping you in your tracks. “wait! could you come with me to the office?”

you turned to see one of the teachers, her expression unreadable. nervousness clawed at your insides, but you nodded, falling into step beside her. the walk to the office felt interminable, the walls closing in as a sense of dread pooled in your stomach. once inside, she gestured for you to sit, her demeanor serious. you complied, the anxiety almost unbearable as you waited for her to speak.

“the school’s program sends ten students from different departments every year to japan,” she began, her voice measured. “they spend a year at our sister art academy to strengthen their future as artists.” you nodded, your heart pounding. “i’m aware.”

she leaned forward, her eyes intense. “your sculptures have caught the eyes of many. you’re the top candidate. would you be interested?” the words hung in the air, your mind reeling. excitement surged through you, momentarily banishing the remnants of your hangover. “yes, absolutely!”

a smile ghosted across her lips. “you’ll need to create one more simple piece, something that speaks to you. can you do that?” you nodded, your thoughts already racing. “yes, i’m on it.”

“good. finish and present it as soon as possible.” you left the office, the rain still falling in relentless sheets. the excitement that had bubbled within you was quickly overshadowed by a gnawing hesitation. the reality of what the opportunity meant settled in, heavy and unyielding. you would be leaving everything behind—your friends, your school, and jungkook.

the thought of leaving him sent a fresh wave of uncertainty crashing over you. despite everything, despite the confusion and the pain, he was a part of your world. the idea of being an ocean away from him was almost too much to bear. you found yourself wandering aimlessly, the rain soaking through your clothes, each step feeling heavier than the last. your mind was a tempest, torn between the excitement of a new adventure and the fear of the unknown. the prospect of creating another sculpture loomed before you, a task that now felt monumental under the weight of your emotions.

the memory of your last piece resurfaced, the butterflies chasing freedom only to realize they needed love. the irony wasn’t lost on you. as you trudged through the rain, you realized that this new piece had to encapsulate everything you felt—the excitement, the fear, the longing, and the love. you headed back to the studio, the familiar scent of clay and plaster a strange comfort. as you began to work, the world outside faded away. your hands moved almost of their own accord, shaping and molding, each touch a cathartic release of the turmoil within. the rain continued its steady rhythm against the windows, a melancholic soundtrack to your efforts.

hours passed in a blur, your focus unbroken despite the emotional storm raging inside you. the sculpture began to take shape, a raw, unfiltered expression of your heart. it was a simple piece, yet it spoke volumes—a delicate balance of freedom and love, the very essence of your struggle. by the time you stepped back to admire your work, exhaustion had settled into your bones, but there was a sense of accomplishment too. the piece was a part of you, a fragment of your soul made tangible.

as you stepped into the bustling café where you had arranged to meet jihyo and jackson, the atmosphere was charged with the soft hum of conversations and clinking coffee cups. the light rain that had persisted throughout the day drummed gently against the café’s windows, adding a soothing rhythm to the scene. you were greeted by their warm smiles as you took your seat, the weight of the day’s revelation still heavy on your shoulders.

jackson leaned forward, his eyes alight with genuine enthusiasm. “you know, this opportunity is amazing. your talent has always been evident, and this chance in japan is well-deserved. i’m so proud of you.” jihyo nodded in agreement, her eyes reflecting the same pride and encouragement. “you’ve worked so hard. this is the kind of break you need to truly shine. i know you’re feeling hesitant, but remember how much you’ve accomplished. this is your chance to take it to the next level.”

you smiled weakly, your excitement mingling with apprehension. “i definitely plan to take it. it’s just, everything’s happening so fast, and i’m not sure how to let go of everything I’m leaving behind.”

jackson reached across the table, placing a comforting hand on yours. “your art is the best thing about you. it’s not just a part of you; it’s a reflection of who you are. anyone who gets to experience it, anyone who gets to know you through your art, is incredibly fortunate. you’re meant for great things.”

“thank you,” you said softly, feeling a wave of gratitude mixed with unease. it was then that you noticed a familiar figure through the café’s window. your heart skipped a beat as you saw jungkook sitting outside, his presence an unexpected jolt to your already fraught emotions. your breath caught in your throat as you observed him with another girl, who sat comfortably in his lap. they were sharing an intimate kiss, the tenderness of the moment starkly contrasting with the chaos swirling inside you.

the sight was a knife to your heart, the image of their closeness slicing through your resolve. you felt the world around you narrow, the laughter and chatter of the café fading into a distant hum. every beat of your heart seemed to echo with the impact of what you were witnessing. the gentle curve of jungkook’s smile, the way he held her—it was a brutal reminder of what you were losing. struggling to maintain composure, you excused yourself with a shaky voice. “i think i need some air. i’ll walk home.”

without waiting for their response, you stood abruptly, the café’s warmth feeling stifling against the cold storm brewing inside you. you pushed through the door, the crisp rain and cool air a sharp contrast to the suffocating emotions that had taken hold. each step felt heavy, the rain drumming against your skin a harsh, unrelenting reminder of the turmoil within.

as you walked, the image of jungkook and the girl replayed in your mind, a relentless echo that seemed to drown out all other thoughts. your heart felt like it was being pulled in a hundred directions at once—toward the excitement of your new opportunity and the painful reality of what you might be leaving behind. the rain continued to fall, mingling with the tears that slipped down your cheeks, unnoticed. the world around you seemed to blur, your thoughts a chaotic whirl of feelings and memories. the prospect of the future was overshadowed by the haunting present, and the weight of your choices seemed almost unbearable. you trudged along, the journey home a silent testament to the internal struggle you faced. the thought of him and his effortless connection with someone else was a harsh reminder of the emotional complexity you had to navigate, and the path ahead felt uncertain and fraught with both hope and heartache.

the rain fell in heavy, unrelenting sheets as you walked home, each step a painful reminder of the emotional weight you carried. the sky was a somber gray, the clouds a reflection of the storm raging inside you. your body felt frail, your legs weak, as if the very essence of your being was being drained away. the weight of what you had seen, the raw pain of feeling worthless, clung to you with an almost tangible heaviness. jungkook had meant the world to you, yet now it seemed that even that precious world was slipping through your fingers, leaving nothing but a hollow ache.

you trudged along the empty streets, the rhythmic patter of raindrops against the pavement blending with the chaotic rhythm of your thoughts. the cold rain soaked through your clothes, chilling you to the bone, but it barely registered against the emotional frost that had settled over your heart.

suddenly, you heard your name being called out. the voice was distant, but unmistakable. you recognized it instantly. it was him. you kept walking, trying to push the sound away, as if ignoring it could somehow make it disappear. but then, you heard it again, more urgent, cutting through the rain-soaked night. your steps faltered, and you turned around, your heart sinking as you saw him running towards you, his figure becoming clearer with each stride.

jungkook was drenched, the rain pouring down his face, mingling with the anguish that seemed to be etched into his features. his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat. he reached you, breathless and soaked to the skin, but his presence was like a burning beacon in the storm.

“don’t go,” he said, his voice breaking through the relentless roar of the rain. you stared at him, confusion mingling with the pain in your chest. “what are you talking about?”

“i heard about japan,” he continued, his voice raw and pleading. “don’t go. please.”

the words struck you like a blow, but you fought to keep your composure. “i have no reason to stay,” you replied, your voice trembling despite your efforts to remain firm. to your surprise, jungkook took your hands into his, his grip warm and desperate. “i need you here,” he said, his eyes filled with a pleading intensity. “i need you to stay.”

the tears that you had been holding back began to well up, blurring your vision. you pulled your hands away from his grasp, your voice cracking as you spoke. “i need to be as far away from you as possible. i like you too much, jungkook. i care for you, but i can’t give you the freedom you want. i need to chase my own freedom.”

you turned away, but his grip was swift and unyielding. he grabbed your arm, pulling you back, his fingers digging in with a desperation that matched your own inner turmoil. you could hear the ragged breaths escaping from his lips as he clung to you, his voice barely above a whisper. “please, just stay. don’t go.” you tried to pull away, but he held on, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close until your back was pressed against his chest. his embrace was both comforting and agonizing, a paradox of warmth and sorrow. you could feel his heartbeat against your back, a rhythmic reminder of the pain that was being shared between you.

he whispered into your ear, his voice trembling with emotion. “i need you. please don’t leave me.”

the tears streamed down your face uncontrollably as you remained silent, the weight of the decision pressing heavily upon you. his pleas were a bittersweet melody that tore at your heart, the pain of leaving him and the freedom you sought intertwining into a tormenting dance. with a final, wrenching sob, you pulled your arm away, turning to face him one last time. his face was a picture of heartache, his eyes glistening with unshed tears as he watched you, his expression a mixture of longing and devastation. the sight of him, so vulnerable and broken, was almost too much to bear.

you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you turned away once more. the rain seemed to pour harder, as if the heavens were weeping for the love you were leaving behind. you walked away, each step feeling like an eternity, the pain of leaving jungkook and the promise of your future battling within your heart. the finality of your decision was a heavy burden, but you knew that you had to forge ahead, even as the sorrow of what you were leaving behind threatened to consume you.

the night had been a long, dark tunnel through which you stumbled, your steps muffled by the weight of your sorrow. the rain had pattered relentlessly against your window, a haunting lullaby that matched the rhythm of your tearful sobs. you had cried yourself to sleep, each tear a silent testament to the heartache that coursed through you, mingling with the cold emptiness of the night. the warmth of your bed was of little comfort, overshadowed by the turmoil that roiled within your chest.

as dawn broke, its pale light filtered through your curtains, casting a somber glow over the room. the sun’s early rays were a stark contrast to the storm inside you. you rose, your movements slow and weary, the exhaustion from the previous night clinging to you like a second skin. with a heavy heart and leaden steps, you prepared yourself for the day ahead—the day of your presentation.

the studio was quiet, save for the soft hum of fluorescent lights overhead. you walked to your piece, the weight of the day pressing heavily on your shoulders. the sculpture you had created—a delicate representation of butterflies and an outstretched hand—stood in the center of the room, bathed in the cold light of morning. the clay had been shaped with painstaking care, each butterfly a testament to your emotions, each wing a silent echo of your heartache.

you gazed at the sculpture, your breath catching in your throat. the butterflies, which had once been a symbol of your freedom, now seemed to mock your sorrow. their fragile wings, once vibrant and hopeful, were now a muted reflection of your internal struggle. the hand beneath them was extended as if in an eternal gesture of solace, yet it seemed to grasp at something forever out of reach. the piece was a paradox—a representation of the freedom you yearned for, coupled with the love you were leaving behind.

your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of your teacher’s voice, cutting through the silence like a lifeline. “everyone's waiting,” she said, her tone gentle yet firm. the words jolted you into action, and with one final, reluctant glance at your sculpture, you lifted it with trembling hands. the weight of the piece felt like an anchor, dragging you toward the theatre room where your presentation awaited.

as you entered the room, the atmosphere was charged with anticipation. the space was filled with an array of faces—jihyo and jackson, their supportive expressions a stark contrast to the tension that gripped you; the professors from japan, their keen eyes scanning you with a mixture of curiosity and evaluation; and jungkook, who sat among them, his presence a palpable ache in your chest. he looked worn, his face haggard as if the night had been a battleground of its own. when the room fell silent, you began your presentation, your voice wavering as you started to speak. your gaze frequently flickered to your piece, but it was jungkook’s eyes that held you captive. the connection between you was electric, a silent conversation that spoke louder than words.

you began to explain your sculpture in intricate detail, your words a poignant reflection of the emotions you had poured into it. “the butterflies,” you said, your voice trembling with emotion, “represent the pursuit of freedom. they chase after an elusive goal, their wings a delicate dance of hope and struggle. eventually, after chasing freedom for so long, their wings began to wither. fall apart. they become weak, as they search for solace from the hand that awaits them,” each phrase you uttered felt like a resonating dagger piercing through jungkook’s heart, each description a painful reminder of what you were leaving behind.

the room’s ambient noise faded into a background hum as your focus remained solely on jungkook. the intensity of his gaze made it hard to breathe, and despite the precision of your words, you could not hide the tears that brimmed in your eyes. the sculpture, which you had hoped would be a beacon of your artistic achievement, was overshadowed by the rawness of your feelings. as you concluded, your voice cracked with emotion. “all they’ve ever known was freedom,” you said, your voice barely more than a whisper, “nevertheless, all they ever needed was love.”

the professors responded with polite applause, their approval a distant echo to the tumultuous storm of your emotions. Your heart was focused solely on the sight of jungkook, whose eyes were fixed on the sculpture with an expression of profound sadness. a single tear slid down his cheek, tracing a path that seemed to embody all the words left unsaid between you.

he turned abruptly, his face a canvas of heartbreak, and you watched as he walked away, your eyes following the path of his butterfly tattoo. the symbol, so intricately tied to your shared history, seemed to pulse with a haunting resonance. it was as if the butterfly was an echo of the love and freedom you both had chased, now left fluttering in the storm of your separation. the finality of his departure was a bitter pill, and as you stood there, the weight of the moment pressed heavily upon you. the sculpture, the presentation, and the love you were leaving behind melded into a poignant tableau of loss and longing.

the presentation room, once filled with the fervor of evaluation, gradually settled into a subdued murmur as the professors gathered their thoughts. their voices, though hushed, carried an air of reverence. one of them, an elderly man with a sharp gaze softened by years of experience, approached you with a warm smile. “your work is extraordinary,” he said, his voice rich with genuine admiration. “the way you’ve captured the essence of freedom and love through your sculpture is nothing short of brilliant.”

another professor, a woman with a commanding presence and a graceful poise, nodded in agreement. “indeed,” she added, her eyes sparkling with approval. “your piece speaks volumes. the subtlety and depth of emotion conveyed through your butterflies and the extended hand reflect an understanding of art that goes beyond technique. it’s a rare gift.”

you stood there, feeling their praise wash over you like a gentle tide. despite their words, a hollow emptiness lingered within you, a void that seemed impervious to their accolades. they continued, “we are pleased to inform you that the academy in japan has reviewed your work and welcomes your arrival as soon as tonight.”

the words were a formal acknowledgment of what you had anticipated, but they did little to stir excitement within you. you simply nodded, your face an impassive mask that concealed the whirlwind of emotions brewing beneath. your teacher, who had been a silent witness to the exchange, gave you a supportive pat on the shoulder, her eyes reflecting a mixture of pride and empathy.

as you prepared to leave, jihyo and jackson were by your side, enveloping you in heartfelt congratulations. “you did it!” jihyo exclaimed, her voice a mixture of joy and sadness. “this is such a great opportunity for you.” jackson joined in, his embrace firm and reassuring. “we’re so proud of you,” he said, his voice heavy with sincerity. “this is your chance to shine, to make your mark on the world.” yet, amidst their praises and supportive words, you felt a profound emptiness. the accolades, the approval, even the opportunity felt distant, overshadowed by the weight of your own emotional turmoil.

just as you were about to leave to pack, jackson’s voice stopped you in your tracks. “wait,” he called softly. you turned to face him, curiosity mingled with trepidation in your eyes.

he took a deep breath, his expression a blend of melancholy and resolve. “i knew it would never be me,” he began, his voice steady yet laden with unspoken emotion. “when i saw your work, and when i saw jungkook’s tattoo, i understood that this was something i could never be a part of.” his words were an acknowledgment of the deep-seated truths that had been woven into the fabric of your shared experiences.

his gaze softened as he pulled a sleek black box from his pocket. “i have something for you,” he said, holding it out with a tender gesture. “jungkook asked me to give this to you.” with a final, gentle kiss to your forehead, he wished you a safe journey, his eyes filled with a mix of hope and resignation. “i’ll always be waiting for you,” he said softly.

you accepted the box, feeling the weight of it in your hand. as you turned to leave, the heaviness of your heart seemed to magnify with every step. the box felt like a tangible piece of the emotions you were grappling with, a silent witness to the complexity of your feelings. once you were home, the task of packing your bags seemed almost secondary to the allure of the box. you set your belongings aside, your gaze fixed on the small, unassuming container. the anticipation was almost unbearable as you slowly opened it.

inside, nestled in a bed of soft black velvet, lay a silver necklace. the pendant was an exquisite butterfly, its delicate wings capturing the light with a subtle sheen. the craftsmanship was impeccable, every detail of the butterfly’s form rendered with a delicate precision that took your breath away. your hands trembled as you lifted the necklace, the weight of it feeling like a physical manifestation of the emotions you had been suppressing. with a mixture of reverence and sorrow, you clasped the necklace around your neck. the cold metal brushed against your skin, and you could feel the butterfly resting over your heart.

as you fastened the clasp, the floodgates opened, and the sobs that had been building up erupted uncontrollably. the tears streamed down your face, each one a reflection of the anguish and longing that had been bottled up inside. the necklace, a symbol of love and departure, seemed to echo the pain of leaving behind the things and people you cherished.

you sank onto your bed, the weight of the necklace a bittersweet reminder of jungkook's affection and the heartbreak that had marked your journey. the room, once a sanctuary, now felt like a space where your emotions were laid bare, each tear a testament to the complexity of your farewell. the necklace glistened softly in the dim light, a silent witness to your sorrow and the new chapter that awaited you. as you lay there, the tears slowly subsiding, the butterfly pendant against your skin felt like a fragile promise—a delicate symbol of the freedom you sought and the love you had to leave behind.

the airport buzzed with the ceaseless motion of travelers, each with their own stories of departure and arrival, but for you, it felt like the world had stopped. every step toward the gate was weighted with the gravity of what you were leaving behind. the butterfly pendant lay cold against your chest, a stark reminder of the connection you still felt to jungkook, its delicate form pressed close to your heart.

the evening was draped in a shroud of melancholy, the terminal lights casting a pale glow over the bustling scene. you walked through the throngs of people, each stride a battle against the urge to turn back, to run away from the decision that tore at your soul. the departure board loomed ahead, and you searched for your gate, the numbers and letters blurring together through the haze of your emotions.

when you finally reached your gate, your heart sank. the moment had come, and the reality of your departure hit you with a force that nearly knocked the breath from your lungs. the weight of your chest was unbearable, the ache of leaving everything behind more than you had anticipated. your mind swirled with thoughts of jungkook, the memories of your time together interwoven with the pain of parting. just as you were about to resign yourself to the inevitable, you heard your name being called. it was a voice you would recognize anywhere, even amidst the cacophony of the airport. you turned slowly, your breath catching in your throat. there he was, running toward you with an urgency that mirrored the turmoil in your heart.

you stood frozen, unable to move as jungkook reached you, his breath ragged from the sprint. his eyes, filled with a mix of desperation and love, locked onto yours. “don’t leave,” he pleaded, his voice breaking with the weight of his emotions. the tears were quick to follow, faster than your words could form, streaming down your cheeks in a torrent of unspoken pain. he continued, his voice trembling. “i don’t just need you,” he said, his hands trembling as he reached out to cup your face with a gentleness that broke your heart. “i love you. i can’t bear the thought of you being so far from me.”

the background noise of the airport faded into nothingness as you sobbed, your vision blurred by the flood of tears. his touch was a balm to your aching heart, his words a lifeline in the storm of your emotions. he repeated himself, his voice steadying with conviction. “i love you.” in that moment, the world around you ceased to exist. it was just the two of you, standing at the precipice of a decision that would alter the course of your lives. you allowed yourself to melt into his embrace, the warmth of his body a stark contrast to the cold metal of the necklace against your skin.

“i love you too,” you whispered, your voice barely audible through the sobs that wracked your body. the admission was a release, a catharsis of the emotions you had held back for so long. you clung to him, feeling the strength of his love envelop you, grounding you in a way you hadn’t felt in ages. but even as you surrendered to the moment, a small voice in the back of your mind whispered the harsh truth. you knew it wasn’t love, not in the way that was meant to last. it was a tempest of passion and pain, a connection born from the shared scars of your pasts and the unspoken longing that had drawn you together.

as you stood there, entwined in each other’s arms, you knew that this love, however flawed and fleeting, was all you had ever wanted. it was the reason your heart ached, the reason your soul soared, and as you buried your face in his shoulder, you made a silent promise to cherish this love for as long as it lasted, no matter how brief or bittersweet. no, it wasn't love. nevertheless, you were in love with him.

✧.*

a/n: if there's one thing i'm gonna do it's add jackson wang as a random side character...this was inspired by my favorite horror kdrama aka nevertheless

[writewithmiaaa]

Jasper Hale X reader

Chapter one: Guarded Grace

Pairings: Jasper Hale x Female reader

Warnings: None 💗

Summary: When James runs into the ballet studio, there is a girl in there, practising her barre. How will Jasper react?

Type: Fluff and a pinch of angst💓

The ballet studio was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from the faint glow of the streetlights outside. Y/N moved gracefully along the barre, her every movement fluid and precise. She had always found solace in ballet, a way to express herself and escape from the mundane worries of life. Tonight, the studio was her sanctuary, a place where she could lose herself in the dance.

As she executed a flawless arabesque, she heard the distant sound of a door creaking open. Pausing, she glanced toward the entrance of the studio, her heart skipping a beat. Her pulse quickened when a tall, menacing figure stepped into the room, his presence filling the space with an aura of danger. His blonde hair was long, and an evil grin plastered his chiseled jaw.

He moved with a predatory grace, his eyes locking onto her with an intensity that made her blood run cold. "What a delightful surprise," he said, his voice smooth and chilling. "I was looking for someone else, but you'll do nicely. I’m James."

Before she could react, another figure burst into the studio, moving with inhuman speed and precision. This time, the man had golden eyes which were fierce, and medium length hair. He smelt of oak and cinnamon. The mystery man quickly positioned himself between Y/N and the danger.

"Get behind me," he ordered, his voice low but commanding.

“What the hell is happening? You ruined my perfect barre.” Y/N sulked, a pout covering her pretty face.

“I said, get behind me.”

Y/N had no idea what was happening, and so she instinctively trusted the intensity in his gaze. She backed away, pressing herself against the mirrored wall as the man squared off against James.

James's smile widened, showing his sharp teeth. "Two for the price of one," he hissed. "This is going to be fun, isn’t it Jasper?"

Jasper's stance shifted, his body poised like a coiled spring ready to strike. "You won't touch her, she’s human.” he growled, his voice filled with quiet fury.

“Oh Jasper, but that’s half the fun.” James mock pouted. The two vampires began to circle each other, their movements a deadly dance. Y/N watched in a mix of terror and awe as Jasper's military precision met James's raw ferocity. The air crackled with tension, the threat of violence palpable.

Suddenly, James lunged, and the room exploded into a blur of movement. Jasper met him head-on, their clash echoing through the studio. The mirrors shook, reflecting the chaotic struggle as they grappled, each trying to gain the upper hand.

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as she watched the fierce battle. She had never felt so helpless, so vulnerable. But then, in the midst of the chaos, she saw something extraordinary. Jasper's movements became more fluid, more controlled. A feeling of calm washed over the room. How did that happen?

With a final, powerful blow and barred teeth, Jasper sent James crashing into the barre, breaking it in half. The defeated vampire snarled but didn't attempt to rise. Instead, he slinked back, eyes burning with hatred.

"This isn't over," James spat, his gaze flickering to Y/N before he retreated, disappearing into the night.

The studio fell silent, the only sound the ragged breathing of the combatants. Jasper turned to Y/N, his expression softening.

"Are you alright?" he asked, concern lacing his voice.

Y/N nodded, her legs trembling from the adrenaline. "Yes, thank you. What was that about?”

Jasper offered a small, reassuring smile. "Don’t worry about it darlin’, you’re safe now. Want me to walk you home?”

As they stepped into the cool night air, Jasper stayed close to Y/N, his presence a comforting shield against the lingering fear. The streets were eerily quiet, the distant hum of traffic the only sound.

"Where do you live?" Jasper asked gently.

"Just a few blocks from here," Y/N replied, her voice still shaky.

They walked in silence for a while, the tension of the encounter gradually easing with each step. Y/N couldn't help but steal glances at Jasper, still amazed by how he had come to her rescue.

"Thank you," she said finally, breaking the silence. "For everything."

Jasper looked at her, his eyes softening. "It's my duty to protect the innocent. I'm just glad I was there in time."

As they reached her apartment building, Y/N felt a pang of reluctance at the thought of parting ways. "Will I see you again?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jasper's smile was warm and reassuring. "I'll make sure of it. You're part of our world now, and we take care of our own.” He handed her a note with his number on it. “For emergencies ma’am.” He winked, and with a final nod, he watched as she entered her building, waiting until she was safely inside before turning away.

[still-a-morosexual-help]

Love it when characters casually reveal some insane childhood trauma with a nostalgic smile on their face because this is just a normal part of their childhood how fun! to the absolute horror of those around them who are very much in the 'that's not normal what the actual fuck' boat

Okay but here's what makes me tear up:

This conversation happens in a devilgram where Diavolo is picking apples for Barbatos to make an apple pie for him and it cuts to a flashback that shows Diavolo wanted an apple tree to impress his new angel friend and excitedly tells this to Barbatos. Barbatos then helps Diavolo plant an apple tree in the forest

Isn't that rattling your brain!!!? Aren't you foaming at the mouth!?!?!

The Demon King enchanted this forest to be full of things that could hurt and kill his child, all in the name of preparing Diavolo to be a better king

Then Barbatos helps Diavolo plant apple trees in it, because Diavolo wants to share it with their enemy, a gesture of friendship and good will that would eventually bring peace to the three worlds* which in turn helps Diavolo grow towards becoming a better king

Diavolo's father created a deadly survival course for a child so he wouldn't get bored, something that would keep Diavolo away from him, and the man who actually raised Diavolo spent time with Diavolo helping him grow apple trees in it

A labour of love grown and tended to for years, if not centuries, just so Diavolo could give his friend apples (another gesture of love) built upon the soil of something that was meant to push and punish Diavolo into being the ideal ruler

*(over a series of meetings Diavolo & Lucifer become friends -> Lucifer starts questioning things in the Celestial Realm -> Lucifer, pushed by the sentence against Lilith, starts a war in the Celestial Realm -> Lucifer seeks sanctuary in the Devildom -> Diavolo helps Lucifer + reincarnates Lilith -> Lucifer pledges his loyalty to Diavolo + through Lilith's line MC is eventually born -> through MC & the brothers' fates being tied Lucifer accidentally picks MC for the exchange program -> MC showing that people from all three worlds could not only be close friends but family starts mending bridges + MC wanting to stay in the Devildom permanently gets everyone actively pushing for peace leading to them becoming part of the student council/government and challenging the views of the older/more conservative demons -> all this eventually kickstarts both Diavolo & Lucifer's character & relationship development -> Diavolo learns to be a more considerate ruler & person who listens to others instead of immediately jumping in with his own plans & ideas + Lucifer learns to actually push back against Diavolo & not just be his 'Yes Man')

Also this Devilgram is called "The Seven Apples"

and with lines like,

"Still...I hope that all this effort bears fruit, someday"

"With enough care and attention, I'm certain that it shall."

"Ah, well. Good things come to those who wait, and all that."

And talk about the future of the Devildom and how they pick exactly seven apples, the whole tree talk/metaphor is 100% about gaining the friendship & trust of Lucifer and his brothers by putting in the effort, care and attention to one day, years in the future, have seven shining apples with you

BUT, EVEN WITHOUT THAT DOUBLE MEANING,

It's not just a tree.

It's all about love, isn't it and the things we do for the people we love.

[tragedybunny]

omg your requests are open? If you're okay with some angst but a sweet ending, can I please request Astarion overhearing the others trying to warn you about Astarion? Like, telling the reader (female please) that he doesn't actually care or like her and she just looks sad and says "I know, but I'm stupid and care about him" and he just gets upset and wants to prove that he does like her? Sorry if this is dumb, haha

Hi Anon, My usual apologies for the wait. I wanted to do a different spin on this because I always find it a little jarring that Astarion confesses to you and then is so prickly about killing the Orthon to get information from Raphael. I always wondered if it occurred to him he was being kind of a jerk about it. So this scene plays out in the second act.

This Is Me - Astarion x F!Reader

Astarion lurked at the outskirts of camp, unable to bring himself to come face you. After everything he'd told you, after those moments of hope, he'd failed, himself and you. The Orthon, he’d been less than gracious about getting around to killing the devil. And after, gods, why did he talk to you like that? Because the scars on his back felt like they burned, and his mind had screamed at him since you'd said they were infernal. Even though he knew you'd been upset, you'd only turned away, saying that it was probably wise to rest before pursuing Thorm’s relic further. 

You all had made a makeshift camp in the heart of Shar’s sanctuary, where not even Shadowheart seemed wholly at ease. And he’d hidden like a coward until now, when he’d finally been able to push himself to come find you. Creeping back to camp, he’d been silent, trying to figure out where you were without running into any of the others, he couldn’t take whatever disdain he’d find in their eyes either. 

He’d made it close to your shared tent when the sound of Shadowheart’s voice had frozen him where he stood. “I’m not saying he’s not sincere, I’m just saying, we all know Astarion by now. He looks out for himself first.” 

“I understand where you’re coming from,” even if you didn’t sound convinced, the fact that you even had to say those words was enough for him to feel like his unbeating heart was shattering behind his rib cage. 

“She has a point Soldier, I like Fangs well enough, but you know how he can be. Just be careful with yourself,” Karlach added. Did they all believe he only thought about himself? 

“We just don’t want to see you get hurt.” Of course, Gale had to add to it. 

“I know you’re all concerned, and I know how he can be, but I care about Astarion.” He didn’t need to hear anymore. No one had managed to spot him, so he slipped into your shared tent and tried not to fall apart. 

Everyone in this damned camp wanted to warn you away from him, and the worst part was that they weren’t wrong. How long had it taken him to behave like an arse to you? He did care though, that wasn’t a lie or a scheme. Where you’d accepted it before on just his word, it felt he’d have to prove it now, since he’d gone and messed everything up.  He just didn’t know how.

Huddled on the floor of the tent, he pulled his knees up to his chest, and frantically thought.

Sex was out of the question, even if he could bring himself to do it, you’d see through it in a heartbeat. What else did he have? A lot of pretty words and burdens, which you already shouldered. He glanced around the tent at his scattered, sparse belongings, noting you hadn’t even had time to unpack yet. Maybe that was the answer. 

If there was more said about him, he hadn’t heard, intentionally blocking out whatever other sounds he heard. He assumed there was dinner, at some point, nothing for him to miss there. You appeared in the entrance to the tent far sooner than he had expected though, and caught him still packing things in his bag. “So that’s it, you’re just going to up and leave? And here I was getting worried you’d been gone so long tonight.” Your voice was deadly calm and he couldn't tell if you were sad or furious. 

Closing his eyes, he centers himself, trying not to get lost in the maelstrom inside his own mind. Standing, he looked you in the eyes, pained to find unshed tears sparkling there, but this was for the best. “I’m going to face Cazador, and whatever he’s done to me, alone.”

“W-what? Is this because of the Orthon?” The words fade into a stunned whisper, you don’t understand what he’s trying to do. Desperately, he gropes for your hand, to comfort you, to explain to you, but you pull away. “You’ll just abandon me because I didn’t kill it quick enough?’

“Love, no! I just need to do this on my own. To show you.” The words run out and he clenches and unclenches his hands frustratedly. 

“By the gods, show me what?” 

“That I’m not using you. That I do care about you for more than what you can do for me. I’ll go to Baldur’s Gate and when I’m done I’ll wait for you.” 

With it all said, Astarion waits in the silence for your response. He waits far longer than he thought he would. Really, he’d thought you’d embrace the idea after everything he’d overheard. “Astarion,” you begin sweetly, and you have his rapt attention, “are you out of your fucking mind?” You grasp his shoulders and clench them tightly, fingers digging in, emphasizing your words. 

“I…of course not!” He tries half-heartedly to pull out of your grip, but you don’t seem keen to let him go. “But you don’t trust me any more so what,” his voice cracks unpleasantly and you release his shoulders, arm wrapping around his chest, “what else can I do.” 

Instinctively, he returns your embrace, burying his face in your shoulder. “You heard all that, didn’t you? I’m so sorry, I just didn’t want them to worry about it anymore.” 

“What if they're right? I'm not sure that I can think about anyone else first until this is done, and I fear I’m going to hurt you.” He doesn't look up from where he's pressed against your skin, not wanting to see if you agree. 

“I knew that Astarion, it was obvious from the start.” You let go and push away, putting space between the two of you as your hand comes to cup his cheek and hold his gaze on yours. “We'll deal with this together, just like I promised.” 

You plant a small kiss on his cheek and he almost sobs, pulling you back into a fierce hug. “You…”

“Silly girl?” You finish with a small laugh.

“Incredibly sweet and wonderful girl.”

“Now you're just trying to flatter me.” He can hear the relief in your voice. “Unpack, please. I’m exhausted and your bag is in the middle of our tent.”

“I don’t have a choice, do I?” There really is no fighting you once you’ve made up your mind, and he doesn’t really want to go anymore. 

“Absolutely not, silly boy.” The kiss you give him is soft and warm enough that it chases away his lingering doubts, for tonight at least. 

Tag List:

@micropoe10 @spacebarbarianweird @writingmysanity @mxxny-lupin @azu21 @tallymonster @dependsonthedream @sunfire-ancunin @bambamwolf87 @fayeriess @lumienyx @lisrelly @elora-the-slutty-songstress @astariongf

[her-satanic-wiles]

October 17th

Threesome or Moresome, Papa Emeritus III & Ghouls x Reader

Masterlist

Words: 5.4k

Warnings: Gang bang; public gang bang; predator prey; role play; game; fear play; fingering; tag-teaming; exhibitionism; fellatio; minor degradation; cunnilingus; hand jobs; mild cucking; piv sex; vaginal sex; unprotected sex; bukkake; anal sex; spit as lube; objectification; titfucking; pussy slapping; face fucking; double penetration; spanking; praise kink; creampie; recommended listening: RUNRUNRUN by Dutch Melrose.

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask @copias-sewer-rat @gehrmansbignaturals @deetz-ghuleh

🔞 MDNI 🔞

As this is dark fiction, I'm choosing to rate it 21+. Please respect my rating. Thank you.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the dense forest, your heart pounded in your chest like a war drum. The cold sweat on your brow mingled with the dirt and leaves that clung to your skin as you darted between towering trees, their branches clawing at your clothes. Behind you, a group of relentless men pursued, their heavy footsteps and urgent shouts echoing through the darkening woods. Each step you took, each breath you drew, was a desperate attempt to outpace the ominous figures closing in on you, their motives unknown and their intentions menacing. The ominous symphony of rustling leaves and the pounding of your own feet merged into a haunting cacophony, as the chilling realization set in that there was no escape from this relentless pursuit.

Moonlight filtered through the thick canopy above, casting eerie, fragmented patterns on the forest floor, which you navigated with all the stealth and agility you could muster. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, and the adrenaline coursing through your veins seemed to blur the boundary between exhaustion and determination. The harsh, urgent voices of your pursuers grew closer, their presence an ever-encroaching nightmare. Your mind raced, desperately searching for a way to shake them off, to find refuge in the vast labyrinth of the woods. Every twist and turn, every broken twig beneath your feet, betrayed your position to those relentless hunters. You needed a plan, a moment’s respite, anything to gain the upper hand in this deadly game of chase.

In the midst of this heart-pounding pursuit, your eyes darted frantically, scanning the surroundings for a glimmer of hope. That’s when you spotted it—a massive fallen log, its rotting underbelly a sanctuary from the prying eyes of your relentless pursuers. With your breath held, you sprinted toward the log, the thundering footsteps of the men growing ever closer. As you reached it, you slid beneath the decaying wood, your body trembling with fear and exhaustion. The earthy scent of damp soil and decay enveloped you, and you pressed your hands to your mouth to stifle any sound. Your heart thundered in your chest as you watched the shadows of the men draw near, their voices now mere whispers in the distance. Time stood still beneath that log, as you clung to the hope that your concealment would be enough to thwart their relentless hunt.

As you lay hidden beneath the fallen log, the darkness around you seemed to stretch into eternity, and every rustle of leaves or snapping twig sent a jolt of terror through your body. It was as if the world had come to a standstill, and the only thing that mattered was remaining unnoticed.

Then, the dreadful moment arrived. A twig cracked nearby, much too close for comfort, and your heart leaped into your throat. You strained to keep your breathing silent and shallow, your eyes locked on the opening where you had crawled in. A pair of boots appeared in your line of sight, inches away from the log. A cold sweat broke out on your forehead as the boots hesitated for a moment, and then a masked face came into view, peering beneath the log.

Your eyes met, his gaze piercing through the shadows, and in that dreadful instant, the world seemed to freeze. His eyes widened in realization, and before you could react, his hand shot out, grasping for your ankle. Panic surged through you, and you yanked your leg away with all the strength you could muster, scrambling to retreat deeper beneath the log, your heart pounding louder than ever.

“Papa! I found her!” He yelled, his voice giving him away. Omega. He reached forward to grasp at your ankle and in desperation you kicked at him. But this gave him the right opportunity to clutch onto you.

Despite your desperate attempts to pull away, Omega’s grip tightened like a vice around your ankle. Adrenaline surged through you as he yanked you out from your hiding place with a sudden, brutal force. You cried out in pain and shock as you tumbled onto the forest floor, your limbs tangled and your heart racing.

Surrounding you were the remainder of Terzo’s Ghouls who had pursued you, their faces hidden behind their masks, but their eyes gleaming with a mixture of triumph and menace. You had been outmaneuvered, cornered like prey in a deadly game. As you gasped for breath, Omega loomed over you, his expression devoid of mercy. In that harrowing moment, the realization washed over you that escape was no longer an option, and you had been ensnared in their sinister clutches.

With a strength you couldn’t hope to match, Omega swiftly moved to restrain you. He pinned you to the forest floor, his knee pressed firmly against your chest, making it nearly impossible to breathe. His rough hands immobilized your arms, binding them tightly behind your back with a set of cold, unforgiving cuffs. Panic and desperation surged through you, but resistance was futile.

You struggled against his grip, gasping for air and pleading for mercy, but his eyes remained impassive, a look of determination. His comrades formed a menacing circle around you, their eyes filled with a mixture of triumph and malice. In that heart-wrenching moment, the realization of your vulnerability and the sinister intent of these men weighed upon you like an inescapable nightmare, casting a shadow over the once serene forest that had become the backdrop to this chilling ordeal.

As you lay there, pinned to the forest floor by the man who had captured you, the tense silence was shattered by the arrival of another figure, the apparent leader of this sinister group, Papa Emeritus III. He stepped forward from the shadows, his face concealed by a twisted grin that sent shivers down your spine. His voice carried an eerie authority as he addressed his comrades, “Well done, gentlemen. It seems our little game has come to a fruitful end.” He looked at Omega and widened his eyes a little. “Perhaps you should let her breathe, no? We wouldn’t want the game to meet a tragic finish.”

Omega relaxed his grip significantly, allowing you to take shallow breaths as the leader continued to survey the scene, seemingly only just realising how into the game he’d been. His dark, calculating eyes locked onto yours, and he chuckled, a cold, mirthless sound that filled you with dread. “You’ve been quite the elusive prey, haven’t you?” He said, his tone oozing with satisfaction. “But now, tesoro, you’re in our hands, and you will do exactly as we say.”

Your heart sank as the gravity of your situation became painfully clear. You had fallen into the clutches of a malevolent force, and Terzo’s sinister pleasure at your capture left no doubt that the ordeal had only just begun.

Terzo’s sinister grin turned into a shit-eating one, the kind of smug look you want to slap off his face. “You see, tesoro,” he taunted, “you’ve lost the bet. Alpha!”

“Yes, Papa?” Alpha said,stepping forward at his master’s acknowledgment.

“What exactly was it that she wagered?”

Alpha’s eyes from behind his mask crinkled as though he were smiling. “She bet that she could outrun us and we couldn’t catch her. If she won, we would have to help her redecorate her room. But if we won… well, you give the orders, Papa.”

“Of course, thank you, my friend. you said if we catch her we fuck her, yes?”

“Yes, Papa!” The Ghouls said. Some chuckled quietly to themselves.

Your mind reeled as you tried to process this revelation. It had all been a silly game, a twisted challenge that you had accepted without fully understanding the stakes, or rather, in your hubris believing that you could outrun six men whose livelihoods revolved around fitness. The gravity of your predicament now became even more surreal; you had unwittingly placed your safety on the line, and your defeat meant you were at their mercy.

The other men exchanged knowing glances, their expressions shifting from triumph to amusement. They had not only captured you but had also won the twisted game they had orchestrated. The forest, once a place of serenity and refuge, had become the backdrop for your ill-fated bet, and the consequences were far more dire than you could have ever imagined.

“Of course, tesoro, if you don’t want to continue then by all means speak now. We will let this go with only minor public humiliation.” He crouched down so he was closer to your head which was still on the ground. “But if you wish to continue, you should realise that every person here will be inside you at some point tonight, sì?”

Terzo was giving you an out and there was that small, very intimidated voice inside of you telling you to take it. Six men. You were surrounded by six men. All of which were a varying degree of horny, and were prepared to fuck the life out of you in the middle of the Ministry’s forest. But there was a crazy part of you that just so happened to be winning your internal struggle that wanted you to go on with your bargain. You lost, fair was fair, and the thought of the very same men who had hunted you down like an animal taking turns on you was enough for your entire body to light up in anticipation.

“What say you, tesoro?” Terzo prompted.

You were silent for a moment. “I lost… time to face the consequences.”

Terzo’s face lit up with excitement even though he tried to keep his cool about it. He raised his hands and stood up, taking a few steps back. “Omega caught her, I think it’s only fair he should be the first to have a turn.”

“Thank you, Papa.” Omega responded. He flipped you onto your back and knelt down in between your legs drinking in the sight of your body. Omega was a big lad, nice and chunky - a little smaller than the average rugby player. Your habit, in your struggle, had rose up and allowed him a glimpse of your thighs and panties which had all the Ghouls groaning when they saw you. As one of Terzo’s favourite Siblings, you tended to be off-limits to most members of the Clergy - though it was more of an unspoken rule than an actual enforced law. But the Ghouls were certainly never allowed to touch you in a sexual manner. But they wanted to. Oh, did they really want to.

Omega ran his hands up and down your exposed thighs, feeling the way your body moved at his touch and appreciating this once in a lifetime opportunity. But with four of his brothers and his Papa watching, he knew he wouldn’t be able to savour this moment for much longer. And thus, he began to undress you - maneuvering you into whatever position he needed to in order to completely rid you of your clothes, shoes and all. He hooked his hands underneath your panties and pulled them down - the final item of clothing now removed and leaving you as naked as the day you were born in the middle of the forest.

He used his spit to lube up his fingers and set to work on your core, gently rubbing this thumb over your clit to get you relaxed enough to take his other fingers. At this point you were only letting out little whimpers of pleasure given that his fingers felt good, but they weren’t really hitting the spot just yet. This was the warm-up, not the sprint portion of the night, and you could tell that he was trying to take care of you. That was until he deemed you wet enough to take his middle finger inside of you.

“Tap up, Omega.” You heard Terzo say from somewhere in the distance. “It drives her crazy when you do.”

Omega nodded and obeyed, and immediately you released a loud moan that seemed to echo through the trees. You didn’t know how far away it reached, but you hoped it wasn’t loud enough for passers by to come looking and discover the scene. It didn’t take long of Omega stretching your cunt out before he was able to add another finger and increase the pleasure you were feeling. Your hands immediately flew to your breasts, your own fingers working at your sensitive nipples as your hips bucked to take more of the pleasure Omega was giving you. You looked over at the other Ghouls, each one also at various stages of arousal. Gale and Moss were rubbing their hard cocks through their pants, their eyes trained on your body and the way it was moving at both your hands and Omega’s. Alpha and Stream had, by this point, pulled their dicks out entirely and were brazenly stroking themselves at the sight of you. You looked at Terzo who was leaning up against the log you had been pulled out from underneath, his arms folded and his cock hard in his pants but completely untouched. His mismatched eyes were dark with lust and also focussed entirely on the scene in front of him. Terzo was the only one out of all of them here who knew your body like the back of his hand. He should after all the time he’d spent buried deep inside you.

“Alpha,” Terzo’s voice sounded, “she needs something in her mouth. Feed her your cock.”

Alpha, “Yes, Papa.”

Omega’s twin bounded over and knelt at your head, his hard cock now fully in your face. He was long and thin - he wasn’t going to make your jaw ache but he was going to make you gag on him. A little bigger than average. You lifted your head up and started working on his length, focussing on his sensitive and uncut head first before even attempting to battle the rest of him. There was also something so degradingly hot about everyone talking about you as though you weren’t there. How all of the questions about you and your body were directed to Papa rather than you, simply because you, like the Ghouls, belonged to Terzo and thus, he had spent more time with you than anyone else.

It was as you were beginning to suck on Alpha’s balls you heard the zipper come down on Omega’s trousers. He spat once onto his cock and rubbed it around before placing himself at your entrance. “Are you ready, Sister?”

You nodded.

Omega was a little smaller than his brother, and you were actually quite grateful for it. Omega was perfectly average sized, just right for the first cock of the night that’s for sure. You thought he was going to just dive right into you, but in reality, he merely didn’t want to exhaust you too soon. He began slowly, easing himself in and out at a speed that was almost teasing, as if he were trying to drive you crazy. Though, when he picked up the pace, the sound of his skin slapping against yours practically drowned out the sound of the other four groaning at the sight of you getting fucked on the forest floor. Omega couldn’t help himself once he noticed how incredible you felt. The rest of the Ghouls had all shifted somewhat closer to each you for a better look, but you hadn’t noticed to begin with.

“How does she feel, boys?” Terzo asked.

“She’s got such a tight pussy, Papa.” Omega commented.

“Her throat opens up so well for me.” Alpha added, punctuating his sentence with a loud groan. “I can’t wait anymore.” You overheard Alpha utter. “Open up, Sister. I can no longer handle this.”

While Omega pushed his cock deeper into your cunt with his aggressive pace, Alpha slipped his length into your mouth. When Omega fucked into you very hard and laughed at the squeak you let out, which was then followed by a moan. Alpha felt it; your moan made him feel it vibrate around him. “There she is.” His hand tangled in your exposed hair as he pushed himself deeper into your throat.

“She fucking loves this, doesn’t she?” Omega commented.

“Of course she does,” said Terzo. “She can be a bit of a whore when she wants to be.”

When you squeezed Omega, he let out an especially loud moan from between your legs. “Fucking hell, Sister. You feel so good.” He continued thrusting, his pace picking up a lot more. This time there was less control and precision. “She’s gonna make me cum. I’m so close.”

Terzo looked at you and moved a little closer so he could watch. “You want his cum, tesoro?”

You moaned around Alpha in affirmation.

“Omega, pull out and cum somewhere else.”

“But-”

“Only I get to cum inside her.”

After one particularly harsh thrust, Omega pulled himself out of you and came on your pubic mound, his timing not good enough to hit anywhere else. You felt the drips of his seed pour onto your skin as he kept rubbing the head of his cock, trying to brand you as much as he could before the next Ghoul came to play.

Given that his cock was already out, Stream was the next one. But instead of going straight for your cunt, he straddled your stomach. “Someone else can come and take this pussy,” he said reaching behind him and giving it a smack, “I want these beauties.”

Terzo gestured to another one of the Ghouls, “Moss, get your ass over here.”

“Yes, Papa.”

Moss was the calmest of all of Terzo’s Ghouls, and usually the most respectful. Which absolutely played out that night. He knelt down in between your legs and again lubed his finger with his spit. “Papa, may I make her cum?” So fucking polite.

Terzo chuckled a little. “Of course.” He replied, tapping Moss’ shoulder.

Moss immediately got to work, using two of his hands to finger you. His left thumb played with your clit as three of his fingers worked your g-spot and refused to let up their pace.

Alpha was now pushing his cock further into your throat, being a little rougher with his thrusts. Terzo’s white gloved hand came to yours and gave it a little squeeze, his eyes looking at you quizzically as if to ask if it was too much. It wasn’t. The idea of all these men using you for their own pleasure should have made you sick at the thought, but the objectification you were feeling only added to your arousal. And so, Alpha just taking what he wanted had you clenching around Moss’ fingers.

Stream, at this point, had pushed your breasts together and started thrusting between them, occasionally spitting in the valley between them to lube your skin up and make the slide more comfortable for him. His thrusts were a lot rougher than Omega’s, and you knew most of that was down to the fact he had been playing with himself as you were being used by the first two Ghouls. “How’s that mouth feeling, Alpha?” Stream asked, watching his cock as it was engulfed in your tits.

“Fucking sinful. She takes it so good. It was like she was made for it.”

“Papa’s gonna kill me for saying this, but I been thinking about these tits for so fucking long. Always wanted to do this.”

Moss, “She just tightened around my fingers.”

Stream, “No shit? I guess she likes hearing about what a tempting Jezebel she is, hm?”

You moaned which earned a similar one from Alpha. “Oh yes she fucking does, listen to those whines. Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

“Pull out!” Papa instructed.

Like Omega, Alpha didn’t pull out as fast as he would have liked. So instead of his cum landing at a more comfortable place on your body, it ended up spilling all over your face, but primarily on your lips, effectively sealing them shut. If you were to open them, Alpha’s cum would just start pouring in. Papa hit the back of his head and gestured vaguely to your face, basically telling him to move his shit before it causes a problem. And so, instead of using his hands, Alpha rubbed his softening and sensitive cock to smear himself around your face and away from your mouth and nose. This meant a lot of it slipped down your cheeks and into your hair, already matted with leaves and soil from the forest floor.

As soon as Alpha walked away, your mouth opened and let out the loudest whine. Hips bucking and a knot tightening in your stomach, you only managed to let out a, “Oh fuck!” before you were cumming around Moss’ fingers. Your hips bucked more violently at the orgasm that was ripping through you, and when you made eye contact with Moss, you saw his eyes light up. He did that. He made you cum. Omega didn’t bother he only stretched you out to make it hurt less, neither did Alpha or Stream even make an attempt for you. That was all Moss’ work. And if you could see his face, you were sure he looked like the cat that got the cream.

The sight of your cum-covered face contorting into an orgasm forced Stream to tip over the edge afterward, his cum now shooting out over your neck and spilling off your skin and into your hair, joining Alpha’s. “Fucking hell!” Stream moaned as his thrusts got weaker and weaker until they stopped altogether. He climbed off you and tucked himself back into his jeans, giving Omega a high five when he’d joined the twins watching the scene play out without them.

“Are you okay, tesoro? Do you want to stop?” Terzo asked, on his knees next to you and holding your hand.

“‘m fine, Papa. It feels so good.” Your voice was very husky and strained as you spoke, Alpha’s cock having done a number on you when he used your throat.

Terzo kissed your hand. “Use the safe word when you need to, amore mio. I’ll kill them if I have to.”

You laughed at his protectiveness but knew it wouldn’t be necessary. The intimate moment you were sharing with your lover was broken by the timid voice of Gale coming over to take his turn. “Papa… may I take her ass? I don’t want to hurt her throat any more than it already is.” His posture was nervous - not because he was typically afraid of Terzo, just because he was a naturally nervous guy. Never wanted to burden or kick up a fuss.

Terzo looked at you, and at your slight nod he gave Gale and Moss permission to do what they needed to as long as they were gentle. Moss lay on his back beside you and beckoned you to straddle him to grant Gale easy access to your ass. Moss took this opportunity to play with your clit once more, circling and swirling his fingers around you to distract you from Gale’s fingers prodding at your second hole. He also used his spit as lube, but made sure he was really taking his time with you because he knew just how painful it would be if he didn’t.

Your second orgasm hit you when Moss’ fingers were moving quickly in tight circles around your clit and Gale was three fingers deep in your ass. The sensation wasn’t one you were used to, as you and Terzo never really did anal that much. But being so full in one hole and empty in the other felt oddly pleasant.

When you were ready, Moss lined his cock up with your entrance and pushed at your hips, sinking you down onto him and taking him completely. Moss was thick - really thick - but a little too short to hit that sweet spot at the back of your pussy. The drag of him against your walls was exquisite though, and every time he bounced you off his hips you could feel him gently brush against your heavily abused g-spot.

Gale entered you next, his cock moving much slower than Moss’ did just to make sure that you were comfortable. Gale, much like the twins, was average sized - or rather, just right. Not so big he hurt you, but not so small you couldn’t feel him. And the added thickness of Moss meant that every part of you was stimulated wonderfully.

The two Ghouls set a pretty even pace to begin with ensuring that you were always full with at least one of them. Every time Moss pulled out, Gale pushed in and vice versa. Eventually,

“Oh, Azmodeus!” You heard Gale grunt from behind you after a particularly sharp thrust. “Sister, your ass hole feels so tight!”

Moss, “Her cunt, too. I won’t last much longer if she keeps squeezing like this!”

“Spank her.” You heard Terzo say from above you.

You felt Gale’s hand come down on you harshly, making you tense and clench around Moss’ cock. “Fuck!”

“She gets tighter, doesn’t she?”

“So much!” He shuddered at the sensation.

Gale, laughing, did it again, this time harder. You clenched again and watched Moss fall apart beneath you. Gale took your ass, while Moss played with your cunt, once again touching your clit and as they felt you tighten, they refused go gentle with you. You found yourself screaming the more merciless they became. That rhythm they built before got faster, and so much rougher, causing your cries to amplify and echo between each of the trees. It felt so incredible to be fucked like that. Two cocks at the same time, rubbing against each other while they were inside you and hitting every single spot so good. You loved the feeling of it.

Terzo’s eyes were blown out to the point where he looked completely crazy. He crouched down to the side of you, at first watching your holes get obliterated by his two Ghouls, but then to the look of pleasure on your face. You reached out to him, your hand holding onto the base of his neck and top of his shoulder as you were railed, your eyes flicking between his eyes and his lips. He got the hint, and leaned forward crashing his lips to yours and giving you the intimacy that you were clearly desperate for. His tongue entered your mouth, and his hand ran all over the parts of your body that he could reach. When he pulled away, he spoke. “Tell me, tesoro, how does it feel?”

“So good, Papa! I - sh-shit - I feel like I’m about to burst.” The moans you were making were absolutely pornographic, but they were real noises being ripped from you. It drove Terzo absolutely insane to hear. A small part of him loved watching his Ghouls use you for their pleasure, he loved hearing what they were doing and he loved that you were feeling so good because of it. He loved that he was also the one calling the shots, ordering them to do things but saving parts of yourself for him.

“You like it when other men fuck you, hm?”

“I do! B-but Papa’s cock is the best!”

“That’s my good girl. Will you cum for us, tesoro?”

“Yes, Papa!”

Moss’ fingers, for the third time that night, tipped you over the edge. Your holes had the both of them trapped in a vice grip as you collapsed onto Moss’ clothed chest. Once you let them both go, they pulled out of you and lay you back on your back, knelt over you, and jerked themselves off until their cum added to the rest of the dried stains on your body. both men moved away to allow Terzo space to get down to your level. He lifted your chin up and made you look at him. You were so fucked out, Terzo didn’t know whether to feel sorry for you or fuck you until you passed out.

He whispered, “Can you take any more, tesoro?”

You nodded.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Papa.”

He kissed you hard, positioning himself between your legs and taking his cock out of his trousers without breaking the kiss. Eventually, he lined himself up and entered you, his body draping over yours and keeping your faces as close as possible. Terzo was not only blessed by Satan in his name, but also in his anatomy. Terzo sported as much thickness as was proportionate, and always stretched you to your limits as though he were made for you. He would always hit the right spots inside you, and have you seeing stars every time you came on his cock. He continued to kiss you, dote on you, a gloved hand moving down to play with your clit as he snapped his hips, those fucking hips that knew how to love you right. He slammed himself into you, over and over again, trying to be gentle at first but the images of his Ghouls taking turns on you turning him into a horny and feral monster.

“Is this enough for you, slut?” He asked. “Having the sixth cock inside you. You sated enough?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, Papa!”

“Look at you. You’re an absolute fucking mess. You’re filthy. I like my whores filthy, though.”

“Oh fuck!” You exclaimed. Your voice was hoarse from screaming all night. You couldn’t keep it in. Even when you had cocks in your mouth you couldn’t stop the noise from coming out. “Feels so good!”

“How are you still so tight after taking all those cocks? Fucking hell, ___. You’re gonna make me cum so hard. You’re such a good fucking girl.”

Terzo wasn’t a stranger to praising you in bed. Though he enjoyed degrading you, he also knew when it was too much. And right now you had been a good girl for him, for all of them, and you deserved the praise. You felt so good around him. He loved your cunt so much. It’s why you were his favourite, you aligned so perfectly in taste and sensation. He loved wrecking you until you were nothing but a shell of what you were when you entered his room, and you loved being the victim of his frustrations and desires. And even though he was fucking in front of his subordinates, this was still the best sex he’d ever had with you. He was moaning and grunting louder than he ever had before, whispering sweet nothings in your ear in both Italian and English, and his fingers expertly working you, making sure you came before he did.

“Oh God, amore mio. I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna fucking cum. Shit. Oh fuck!”

Terzo was sure he’d never cum that hard and that much in his life. So much of it spilled out onto the floor when he’d finally pulled out of you. Terzo was breathless, but he was nowhere near as exhausted as you.

You stayed there, weak and unable to move, you could barely keep your eyes open. All you could think about was how amazing that felt. But Terzo would be damned if he let you pass out, butt naked on the cold, dirty floor of the Ministry’s forest.

You don’t remember how you wound up in Terzo’s bed - you don’t even remember it being the next morning. But there you were, swaddled in his deep red, velvet sheets with his hairy and naked arm draped over you. There was not a part of your body that wasn’t sore - and also thoroughly cleaned. The cum and the majority of the dirt had been cleaned off you, no doubt Terzo did that when he’d got his Ghouls to bring you inside - or at least, you assumed as much. If you were awake for any of it, none of it was coming to mind.

Waking up next to Terzo was always an intimate affair. He loved waking up to your kisses all over his face, but this morning he was awake before you, giving you a lazy and sleepy smile. “How are you feeling now, tesoro?”

“Sore, but I’ll survive.”

He placed a kiss to your temple. “You need to rest, little one. Come, snuggle into me as you like to do. Sleep some more.”

“Anything you say, Papa.”

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

[cera-writes]

Could I request Scott summers x reader with a similar eye mutation. The reader has a gorgon mutation and can turn people to stone, and they meet/ bond over not being able to see properly, eventually getting into a relationship.

A/N: I love this idea! It's so sweet! Tags: just sweet fluff with a shared understanding

A Shared Burden

The sterile walls of the X-Mansion medbay felt like a cage after the chaotic awakening of your mutation. Professor Xavier had explained the X-Men, a sanctuary for mutants like you. But 'sanctuary' didn't quite describe the prickling anxiety that crawled under your skin after Beast's in-depth examination of your petrifying gaze.

Hank had loaned you a pair of mutant specialty eyewear. It was a revelation that dawned on you now. You'd never be able to take them off with turning someone into a slab of concrete; or at the very least, controlling your deadly eyesight.

The door creaked open, revealing a tall man with a kind smile. "Hey there," he said, his voice gentle. "You must be (Y/N). I'm Scott, Scott Summers. Cyclops is fine too."

You offered a weak smile. "Nice to meet you, Scott. Though I wouldn't exactly call turning people to stone a mutant power you'd advertise in the brochure."

He chuckled, a sound that eased the tense knot in your stomach. "Yeah, well, Hank can be a bit… thorough. But hey, at least you get a cool codename out of it. Any ideas?"

You shrugged, a touch of self-deprecation tinging your voice. "Haven't really thought about it. Maybe something Gorgon-related, considering I turn people to stone with a glance. I mean, Medusa would be way too cliche."

Scott's smile softened. "Your power… it's tough, I imagine. But you're not alone. We all have things to deal with here." He gestured towards his head, the unspoken reference clear.

A silent understanding bloomed between you. Scott knew what it was like to live in a world where you had to be constantly on guard, where your very nature made you an outsider. There was a shared burden in his gaze, a quiet empathy.

"How about we get you settled into your room?" Scott suggested, his voice warm. "Maybe tomorrow we can start figuring out how to control your… uh… petrifying gaze."

The following days were dedicated to navigating your mutation. Scott, ever patient, was your guide. You practiced focusing your gaze, not on turning things to stone, but on dampening the overwhelming sensory input that triggered your power. He understood the struggle to keep your emotions in check, the constant battle to avoid accidentally turning someone into a statue.

Slowly, with Scott's steady support, progress came. You actually did learn to somewhat control the intensity of your gaze, to filter the world through your special glasses that dampened your mutant sight but allowed you to function.

One evening, after a particularly grueling training session, you and Scott found yourselves on the balcony overlooking the X-Mansion grounds. You leaned against the railing, a comfortable silence settling between you. The setting sun cast a warm glow on the world, a world you could only perceive through a muted lens.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Scott said softly, his gaze fixed on the horizon.

"They say it is," you replied, a tinge of wistfulness in your voice.

Scott turned to you, a sincerity in his voice that resonated with you. "Maybe someday you'll see it all, (Y/N). But for now, you have something just as valuable."

He reached out, his hand hovering near yours. You mirrored the gesture, the space between your fingers tingling with unspoken emotions. "What's that?" you asked, a whisper that carried on the cool evening breeze.

Scott's smile, though unseen, was evident in the way his eyes crinkled at the edges. "Understanding. You're not alone. We both carry burdens, burdens that make us different, but also burdens that connect us."

In that moment, amidst the muted colors and the filtered light, you felt a warmth bloom in your chest that had nothing to do with the setting sun. You realized, with a jolt, that the hours spent training with Scott weren't just about mastering your power, they were about finding solace in shared experiences. The man beside you, with his unwavering support, was a beacon in a world that often felt isolating.

Weeks turned into months, and your bond with Scott deepened. You found comfort in his quiet strength, in the way he understood your struggles without needing words. You learned to communicate through subtle gestures, stolen glances, and shared laughter. One crisp autumn evening, as you sat by the window, a comfortable silence settling between you once more, Scott spoke.

"We may not see the world in the same way, (Y/N), but we see each other. And that's all that truly matters."

His words, laced with a quiet sincerity, sent a shiver down your spine. You met his gaze, a spark of understanding dancing in your own eyes. Perhaps you didn't need to see the world perfectly to find beauty. Perhaps the most vibrant colors existed in the warmth of shared understanding and the quiet promise whispered in the space between. As you leaned closer, the world blurring at the edges, you knew you had found a connection that transcended sight.

[book--brackets]

The Scholomance by Naomi Novik (2020-2022)

A Deadly Education is set at Scholomance, a school for the magically gifted where failure means certain death (for real) — until one girl, El, begins to unlock its many secrets. There are no teachers, no holidays, and no friendships, save strategic ones. Survival is more important than any letter grade, for the school won’t allow its students to leave until they graduate… or die! The rules are deceptively simple: Don’t walk the halls alone. And beware of the monsters who lurk everywhere. El is uniquely prepared for the school’s dangers. She may be without allies, but she possesses a dark power strong enough to level mountains and wipe out millions. It would be easy enough for El to defeat the monsters that prowl the school. The problem? Her powerful dark magic might also kill all the other students.

Fablehaven by Brandon Mull (2006-2010)

For centuries, mystical creatures of all description were gathered to a hidden refuge called Fablehaven to prevent their extinction. The sanctuary is one of the last strongholds of true magic. Enchanting? Absolutely. Exciting? You bet. Safe? Well, actually, quite the opposite...

 Kendra and her brother, Seth, have no idea their grandfather is the current caretaker of Fablehaven. Inside the gated woods, ancient laws keep order among greedy trolls, mischievous satyrs, plotting witches, spiteful imps, and jealous fairies. However, when the rules get broken, powerful forces of evil are unleashed, forcing Kendra and Seth to face the greatest challenge of their lives, to save their family, Fablehaven, and perhaps even the world.

Ranger's Apprentice by John Flanagan (2004-2011)

They have always scared him in the past--the Rangers, with their dark cloaksand shadowy ways. The villagers believe the Rangers practice magic that makes them invisible to ordinary people. And now 15-year-old Will, always small for his age, has been chosen as a Ranger's apprentice. What he doesn't yet realize is that the Rangers are the protectors of the kingdom. Highly trained in the skills of battle and surveillance, they fight the battles before the battles reach the people. And as Will is about to learn, there is a large battle brewing. The exiled Morgarath, Lord of the Mountains of Rain and Night, is gathering his forces for an attack on the kingdom. This time, he will not be denied. . . . 

Ruby Red Trilogy by Kerstin Geir (2009-2010)

Sixteen-year-old Gwen lives with her extended - and rather eccentric - family in an exclusive London neighborhood. In spite of her ancestors' peculiar history, she's had a relatively normal life so far. The time-traveling gene that runs like a secret thread through the female half of the family is supposed to have skipped over Gwen, so she hasn't been introduced to "the mysteries," and can spend her time hanging out with her best friend, Lesley. It comes as an unwelcome surprise when she starts taking sudden, uncontrolled leaps into the past.

She's totally unprepared for time travel, not to mention all that comes with it: fancy clothes, archaic manners, a mysterious secret society, and Gideon, her time-traveling counterpart. He's obnoxious, a know-it-all, and possibly the best-looking guy she's seen in any century...

The Books of Bayern by Shannon Hale (2003-2009)

She was born with her eyes closed and a word on her tongue, a word she could not taste.

Her name was Anidori-Kiladra Talianna Isilee, Crown Princess of Kildenree, and she spent the first years of her life listening to her aunt’s stories and learning the language of the birds, especially the swans. And when she was older, she watched as a colt was born, and she heard the first word on his tongue, his name, Falada.

Hex Hall by Rachel Hawkins (2010-2013)

Three years ago, Sophie Mercer discovered that she was a witch. It's gotten her into a few scrapes. Her non-gifted mother has been as supportive as possible, consulting Sophie's estranged father—an elusive European warlock—only when necessary. But when Sophie attracts too much human attention for a prom-night spell gone horribly wrong, it's her dad who decides her punishment: exile to Hex Hall, an isolated reform school for wayward Prodigium, a.k.a. witches, faeries, and shapeshifters. 

By the end of her first day among fellow freak-teens, Sophie has quite a scorecard: three powerful enemies who look like supermodels, a futile crush on a gorgeous warlock, a creepy tag-along ghost, and a new roommate who happens to be the most hated person and only vampire student on campus. Worse, Sophie soon learns that a mysterious predator has been attacking students, and her only friend is the number-one suspect. 

As a series of blood-curdling mysteries starts to converge, Sophie prepares for the biggest threat of all: an ancient secret society determined to destroy all Prodigium, especially her.

Fables by Bill Willingham (2002-2015)

When a savage creature known only as the Adversary conquered the fabled lands of legends and fairy tales, all of the infamous inhabitants of folklore were forced into exile. Disguised among the ""mundys,"" their name for normal citizens of modern-day New York, these magical characters created their own secret society that they call Fabletown.

From their exclusive luxury apartment buildings on Manhattan's Upper West Side, these creatures of legend must fight for their survival in the new world.

Dragonriders of Pern by Anne McCaffrey (1968-2018)

On a beautiful world called Pern, an ancient way of life is about to come under attack from a myth that is all too real. Lessa is an outcast survivor--her parents murdered, her birthright stolen--a strong young woman who has never stopped dreaming of revenge. But when an ancient threat to Pern reemerges, Lessa will rise--upon the back of a great dragon with whom she shares a telepathic bond more intimate than any human connection. Together, dragon and rider will fly . . . and Pern will be changed forever.

Thursday Next by Jasper Fforde (2001-present)

England is a virtual police state where an aunt can get lost (literally) in a Wordsworth poem and forging Byronic verse is a punishable offense. All this is business as usual for Thursday Next, renowned Special Operative in literary detection. But when someone begins kidnapping characters from works of literature and plucks Jane Eyre from the pages of Bront 's novel, Thursday is faced with the challenge of her career.

The Locked Tomb by Tamsyn Muir (2019-present)

The Emperor needs necromancers.

The Ninth Necromancer needs a swordswoman.

Gideon has a sword, some dirty magazines, and no more time for undead nonsense.

Brought up by unfriendly, ossifying nuns, ancient retainers, and countless skeletons, Gideon is ready to abandon a life of servitude and an afterlife as a reanimated corpse. She packs up her sword, her shoes, and her dirty magazines, and prepares to launch her daring escape. But her childhood nemesis won't set her free without a service.

Harrowhark Nonagesimus, Reverend Daughter of the Ninth House and bone witch extraordinaire, has been summoned into action. The Emperor has invited the heirs to each of his loyal Houses to a deadly trial of wits and skill. If Harrowhark succeeds she will be become an immortal, all-powerful servant of the Resurrection, but no necromancer can ascend without their cavalier. Without Gideon's sword, Harrow will fail, and the Ninth House will die.

Of course, some things are better left dead.

[morsmortish]

she’s maniacal, she’s mad, she’s monstrous. she lost her moral compass and the better half of her sanity someplace between her blurred-out childhood and her sister’s abandonment. her teeth are as sharp as her knives, her smile is just as deadly. she is ruled by her desires, primarily: to be desired. she craves power and glory and opulence, and she idolises the one man who represents all this to her, the one man who can give this to her. she’s devoted and diabolical, and there’s no hope left for her. no one holds a candle out for her anymore. she’s not included in anyone’s prayers. she’s been lost down her dark, dark path, and yet she’s never been happier. she’s overwhelmingly content in her life of lunacy and servitude. she’s not scared or helpless or ‘misunderstood’, she’s simply downright evil. she found sanctuary in her insanity, and it’s cruel to take that away.