TANGLED IN YOUR TRANCE • Part One

TANGLED IN YOUR TRANCE • part one

𖤐 MASTERLIST 𖤐

Warnings: mentions of divorce, reader’s clothing described, use of “big brother” and “little sister”, little to no suggestion because we are not there yet

Word Count: 1.5k

Note: pink dividers by @/adornedwithlight! chapters will be longer after this one. Consider this a little introduction. Also, I’ve been asked to start a taglist, so let me know if you want in on that <3

You’re seventeen when your parents get divorced and eighteen when they remarry within two months of each other. Your dad bags a lady who’s closer to your age than his, and your mother finds herself a man who loves living in luxury as well as in debt from his uncontrollable gambling addiction.

It causes your relationships with your parents—all four of them now—to grow tense, causes you to slam doors and spit curses and cover your ears with expensive headphones (courtesy of the stepfather trying to win your affections).

The only, only good thing about your dysfunctional family dynamic is your new step brother, Toma, who you don’t actually see very much, but whatever. You’d been an only child your entire life, lived with a very specific type of loneliness that is impossible to describe, and now suddenly you have an older brother. It’s weird, but there’s an unspoken solidarity between the two of you right off the bat. The marriage between your mom and his dad is absolutely fucked from the start; you know it, and Toma knows it. Just like you both know you’ll be the ones that’ll have to deal with the inevitable fallout.

Every week you pick who you want to stay with, the lesser of 2 evils entirely based on your mood. Do you stay with your father and his irritating wife who only knows how to bond through mani-pedis? Or do you brave the big house full of fake smiles, embellished anecdotes, and late night arguments that echo through the halls?

Usually, it’s the latter that wins out. At least you can seclude yourself in your room there and no one will pester you to go shopping or get your hair done. (The new wife means well, you know deep down. She’s just so fucking annoying.)

Staying with your mom and stepdad also gives you the chance to maybe see Toma if he’s not on tour, at practice, or giving guitar lessons at the nearby music store.

He’s kind of intense, deep frown permanently etched onto his face, popping pills like candy. Usually dressed in perfectly tattered T-shirts and leather pants, his hair is bleached and spiked, one of his eyebrows is pierced—looks like he plays guitar in a metal band.

Which he does.

He isn’t your best friend. You’d barely call him an acquaintance. But every once in a while, you find yourself alone with him in the kitchen or the den. He asks simple questions to make shitty small talk, but it eventually leads you to ask about his band, which always ends in the two of you sharing opinions on music, newly dropped albums, etc.

It’s about the closest you ever get to bonding those first couple years, but it’s good enough for you, makes you feel like you’re not totally alone in the household.

The first time you find a burnt CD on your nightstand happens the same night that Toma sticks up for you at the dinner table. He’s been off tour for a couple weeks, and despite still not knowing him super well, you can tell that the stagnancy is making him cagey.

So, when your stepdad makes an offhand comment about your aesthetic—the skirts and fishnets and combat boots, it doesn’t go over well.

“All that black isn’t exactly inviting, sweetheart. You won’t find a man leaving the house looking like you’re ready to beat someone up.”

You’re used to it by now, spent most of your adolescence listening to your mom and dad bitching about the hair you let cover your face and the gory graphics on your T-shirts. This isn’t anything new to you.

However…

“Why the hell would you even say something like that?” Toma gruffs, fork gripped just a little too tightly in his hand. “The way she dresses ain’t got nothin’ to do with you, so shut your trap about it.”

“Toma—” your stepdad tries to defend.

“No. And why are you so concerned about her looking inviting? What the fuck does that even mean? You tryin’ to marry her off or somethin’?”

All your stepdad can do is get red in the face and grumble an apology, obviously out of his depth.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Keep your shit opinions to yourself, old man.”

You flash Toma a weak but grateful smile, nods in return, and that’s that.

It’s only when you’re winding down for the night that you spot it, the clear case and the bright blue disc within. His handwriting is surprisingly legible, all caps spelling out PLAYLIST #1 followed by each track in smaller print.

You’re only a little nervous when you knock on Toma’s bedroom door. You’ve never been inside before, all the way at the end of the hallway with the door perpetually shut. Your step brother doesn’t intimidate you, exactly, you just don’t have the best read on him yet.

When Toma opens the door, he’s the most dressed down you’ve ever seen him, wearing a t-shirt full of holes and a pair of black sweatpants. His hair is down and damp, barefoot as he steps to the side, and the chain he never seems to take off is missing from around his neck.

It’s strange seeing him like this: no tough guy exterior, just a dude in his early twenties living with his parents.

That’s not to say you look like you’re ready to hit the town. Sporting an oversized Hello Kitty shirt and little pajama shorts, you were ready to crawl into bed before you found the CD. The difference here is that while you’re taken off guard by Toma’s relaxed appearance, he doesn’t even seem to notice yours. And why would he?

You hold up the disc with a raised eyebrow, “a gift?”

Toma shrugs, lifting his arm high enough to let you walk under it and into his room, shutting the door behind you. Around any other guy, an action like that would have made your stomach flip in anticipation, but not this time. Definitely not this time.

“A few of ‘em are from bands we’ve toured with, but most of it is just shit I’m into that I think you might like.”

All you can reply with is a lame, “cool, cool,” too distracted with glancing around his room.

“I’m guessin’ you haven’t listened to it yet?”

You shake your head, eyes landing back on him as he sits at an old desk, a guitar laid out in front of him. From the looks of it, he’s restringing it.

“Not yet. Saw it and just… came to say thanks, I guess.”

He nods toward the stereo system up against one of the walls and tells you, “pop it in, then. I can give you my, uh, expert commentary.”

“Wow, lucky me,” you joke, ejecting the disc that’s already in the player to replace it with yours. You hope your dry tone is enough to cover up the buzz of excitement you feel at the prospect of getting to know him a little better.

For the next hour, you halfway listen to the tracks, more interested in what Toma has to say about each of them. Some of his ‘commentary’ is about the musicality of each song, but he also tells you about how he stumbled upon the the more underground bands and what it was like to play with the ones he toured with.

You use this as an opportunity to explore his space, or the space he allows you to see. You’re not snooping in his closet or anything, but you aren’t subtle as you look over the bulletin board full of tickets and peruse his little bookshelf–music theory, some biographies, a couple of psychology books (one about gambling).

When you pick up a model motorcycle from a shelf, Toma snorts, mutters, “you really are a little sister, aren’t ya’?”

“Huh?” you put the little bike down and turn to him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean rifling through my shit is a little sister thing to do.”

“I’m not rifling through anything,” you tell him, sucking your teeth, “–rifling would be if I was, like, going through drawers or something. I am simply… cataloging.”

He snickers, shrugging broad shoulders, and for some reason you feel the need to add, “I’m not actually that much younger, ya’ know.”

“Three years.”

“Two and a half,” you immediately correct, which, granted, is a little childish, but you can’t help yourself. The last thing you want is for Toma to see you as a baby as someone he has nothing in common with, someone he’d be embarrassed to introduce his friends to.

“Fine,” he concedes, a little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “two and a half.”

You shouldn’t care what he thinks or how he perceives you. It doesn’t matter. He only just recently entered your life—a new, hastily written chapter in an eighteen-year-long story.

There’s a part of you, though, bigger than you’d like to admit, that desperately wants him to like you, to approve of you–just a little sister’s desire to be loved by her big brother.

𖤐 NEXT 𖤐

𝐀𝐍𝐔𝐁𝐈𝐒

𝐀𝐍𝐔𝐁𝐈𝐒 | 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐉𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐅𝐈𝐀 𝐀𝐔 pairings: yandere mafia namjoon x barmaid f!reader genre: dark romance, smut, slight porn with plot, 90s word count: 19,7K beta read by @chaoticpuff17 (ily)

masterlist

summary: “You are something I can sin for” An anchor amidst the stormy seas of life — that’s what Namjoon is for you. But it wasn’t always like that. There was a time where you’ve resented Namjoon with every fibre of your being and every word that came out of his plump lips after what he had done to prove his power. Unfortunately, you will never know what life could be if Kim Namjoon was not in it.

warnings: minors dni 18+ | sexual tension, emotional distress, teasing, yandere behaviour, obsessive behaviour, manipulation, reader meets namjoon at 17, forced engagement, kidnapping, graphic violence, death, murder, blood, explicit language, misogyny, mentions of feminism, alcohol usage, mentions of religion and God, church smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, oppa-kink and so on (i'll add some if i'll forget)

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain strong language, explicit content, obsessive behaviour, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, oppressiveness, which we do not condone.

a/n: So here we are! This is the story I've been thrilled to share as it unfolds almost simultaneously with Champagne Confetti. Y/N, alias Peaches, is my baby, and I cannot wait to write more for her and Namjoon after my current project wraps up, wink wink. I have drafts for other fics set in the same universe as my current work and the new one, Anubis. Step by step, my fairies ♥

I hope you will enjoy reading this piece I've kept to myself for a long time. The best thing about writing is that I get to build this world of imagination and live in it for months before it gets to you. Sooo, I'm very nervous and excited to push Anubis out as a second fic within this universe— which now I have decided is going to be called — 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟔. Without further ado, enjoy, fairies! ♥

1996

There's a soft whisper in your bones, each time you wake up in the morning. As your eyes flutter open, the room is dimly lit, shadows dancing on the ceiling. All your demons are staring at you from above. They have been there when you went to sleep, and they are still there when you wake up. You know them all too well—regrets, doubts, fears—they've become familiar companions in the lonely hours of the night. They whisper tales of your failures, amplifying every mistake, every misstep, until they echo like thunder in your mind.

But would it be any different if your steps turned the other direction? Would the cosmos allow you to be? Possibly. You, however, will never know what life would be without blood flowing down the stream, dirty money from all the sins you've watched being committed.

You will never know what life could be if Kim Namjoon was not in it. But the thought is fleeting, for you know deep down that he is as much a part of your story as the demons that haunt you. His presence has shaped you in ways both profound and subtle, leaving an indelible mark on your soul and your body. The agonising pain within still remains and all you can think of is how did you get to this point in your story.

"Bitches come and go, Peaches—" you recalled those words like it was yesterday they were uttered.

"—but you and him, love, you be for life."

An anchor amidst the stormy seas of life — that's what Namjoon is for you. But it wasn't always like that. There was a time when you resented Namjoon and every word that came out of his plump lips.

Kim Namjoon was trouble and the whole Bronx knew so. Heck, even the whole state knew what kin he came from. You were no exception. But whatever you did, you never managed to put distance between you two.

The world seemed both infinitely vast and impossibly small when the streets of the Bronx were your stage. You were barely seventeen when you met Namjoon, a whirlwind of youthful energy and reckless abandon, there he is, so vivid in your memories.

Every time you'd help around Anubis, you could see his straying eyes. He had an aura of mischief that drew you in like a moth to a flame. You remember the way his gaze lingered on your skin, straying from the task at hand to fixate on you with a mixture of fascination.

Namjoon's reputation preceded him like a shadow cast by the noonday sun. Entirely impossible to overlook, yet you did. His name was whispered in hushed tones in the back alleys and dark corners where his influence held sway, and that was only the beginning. The magnitude he reached decades later is for another story.

You had heard the rumors—the tales of his involvement with the local gangs, the whispers of his connections to the underworld that lurked beneath the surface of the city. Certainly, you would have to be lying if you said that Anubis was completely legal. You were not that stupid. While it bore the façade of a legitimate establishment, its roots ran deep into the murky waters of the criminal underworld.

Mrs. Jung could smile as widely as she wanted and reassure you that all was fine and all was taken care of, but you couldn't ignore the whispers that circulated about Anubis. Yet she paid triple what you could get in any regular bar. Not like you could work at a regular bar at the time at your age. Survival often depended on turning a blind eye to the unsavory realities of life that you would never be able to face alone. Money was tight and you could not afford to lose such a good-paying job. Even if it took what it took.

"His eyes are hungry for you, Peaches—" said Mrs. Jung while toying with the little umbrella that was swimming in her Kamasutra drink you'd prepared just a few minutes ago. You envisioned your life in the city just like she had, Saint Laurent heels clicking loudly as you would walk down the streets of Manhattan. You admired your lady boss from her head to toes. Mrs. Jung was a symbol of pussy and power. Until she was not. The power was given to her and once she rejected to meet the expectations, it was taken from her.

"—But that's all he can do, at least for now."

She winked your way and then her attention turned to the approaching male figure. What she meant by that is loud and clear. You are underaged and Namjoon cannot make any move on you even if he wanted to. Although something tells you that this would be the least illegal thing he would’ve committed.

You’ve met Mark Tuan on occasion when he stopped by the bar. She was not Mrs Jung at the time, yet the notorious life of your lady boss, confused you even then. The way she and Mr Jung behaved around each other gave you the impression that he is her lover and not the tattooed boy that fucked the brains out of her in the office upstairs.

You felt the pain that was reflected on Jung Hoseok’s face when he asked where is she and you had to answer truthfully. The only thing you knew about Namjoon was that he and the Jungs ran way back. Their primary, and to the upper world’s eye, legal assets were the distilleries that distribute whiskey and brandy which you were serving each night till early hours of the morning.

The moment he particularly chose to visit the bar only those evenings you’ve been around was a louder hint shouted your way. As if you haven’t already figured. There was something intoxicating about the way he moved through the world and the way he moved you once your eyes locked.

The way he spoke to you, listened to you so attentively, gave advice on occasion and provided a shoulder to lean on, was all pulling you to him even more. It made you forget about all the skeletons that were in his closet.

The air crackled with anticipation as he walked through the room each night, straight to you, his gaze fixing on you with a mixture of fascination and desire. But amidst the heat of the moment, there was a shadow of doubt that lingered in the back of your mind.

Mrs. Jung's sudden disappearance, Namjoon taking over the day-to-day operations of Anubis—it all seemed too convenient, too perfect to be mere coincidence. It gave him the opportunity to watch you, enchant you. You were scared that he'd cut you off whenever you fucked up something. But he never did; rather the opposite, offering you a lifeline when you needed it most. There was a chemistry between you that defied explanation, a silent understanding that transcended words.

The way his muscular torso almost pressed against yours in the storage room took your breath away instantly. The faint scent of his cologne enveloped you as he leaned in closer, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. Surrounded by crates and boxes of expensive alcoholic beverages, the world seemed to fade away. His hand brushed against yours while he was lifting it, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins as you met his gaze. Reaching above your head to envelop his slender fingers around the throat of the bottle that you could not reach before, he slowly moved closer to hover above your lips. You trembled under his gaze on your lips that were slightly parted; you were panting at this point, reminding you of the dangers that lurked beneath the surface of your forbidden romance.

"Just a moment longer."

His voice was a low murmur, a seductive whisper that sent a thrill racing through your veins. Despite the warning bells that rang in the recesses of your mind, you couldn't deny the pull he had over you, the magnetic attraction that drew you closer with each passing moment, his presence overwhelming in the confined space of the storage room. You knew that this was wrong, and yet, as his breath ghosted over your skin, you couldn't bring yourself to pull away.

You would never deny it, but you could not accept it and return his affections the way he wished you would. This was temporary. You never planned to stay in Anubis for longer than needed. It was not where you belonged, and the criminal underbelly of the Bronx was not the life you had envisioned for yourself.

You could not understand what made him stay away from you for such a long time. But it certainly created an opening for you to re-think your next steps.

The twenty-first year of your life was dangerously close. You graduated from college that could be paid as your earnings in Anubis allowed so. Slowly, your little life in the farthest corner of Bronx would come to an end and you could move into the city. Get a job, maybe even a man and kids later. You wanted that white-picket-fence life and you knew that if you wanted to live it peacefully, staying here was not an option.

Your father was strongly against you leaving even though he never approved of the life you led in the dark of nights. He was not a saint either, his hands stained with the same sins that plagued the streets of the Bronx. There was no man in the whole New York City that would not know the name Kim Namjoon and your father was not an exception. Although, you never had the courage to mention his name and acknowledge that the man your father praises when he drinks his beer and plays poker with his drunkard old pals, is spending his evenings talking to you.

"I tell ya all, that Namjoon boy has got a head on his shoulders like no other," your father's voice boomed across the small kitchen.

"A real businessman, that one," a flicker of unease stirring in the pit of your stomach as you caught sight of the familiar glint of admiration in your step-father's eyes. Namjoon's name hung in the air between you, a silent reminder of the bond that had formed between you in the shadows of Anubis.

"I wouldn't be surprised if he ended up running this whole city someday, right, Peaches?" You forced a smile, a wave of uncertainty washing over you as you considered the implications of your father's words. Namjoon's ambitions were as vast as the city itself, his influence reaching far beyond the confines of Anubis and the criminal underworld it symbolized.

"That's Mr. Jung's place, dad," you shook your head disapprovingly but with a smile on your face. His comrades laughed and shared similar ideas as he did though.

"That would be a boy for your Peaches," one of his comrades chuckled, the sound echoing off the walls of the cramped kitchen as they continued to sing Namjoon's praises after you only silently smiled again and opted not to respond. Your father however scoffed. He praised him, yes. But would he approve of his only child being with such a man like Namjoon is?

"When are you leaving for the city, young Missy?" Old man whose name you've never known asked with a cigarette in his mouth, looking over his cards rather than your way.

"Don't even support her in that big apple bullshit." You felt a pang of disappointment at his lack of support, but you were not surprised. You glanced around the kitchen, meeting the eyes of the men gathered there, each one offering their own opinion on your future. Some nodded in agreement with your step-father, while others remained silent, their expressions unreadable.

"Don't listen to those old men, child—"

"You got dreams, girl. Don't let nobody hold you back from chasing 'em.”

Truth to be told. The job, white fence, man and kids were not your dreams. You did not really know what to dream of, being restricted in such a dark part of the world that Bronx was for many, you did not even know why you hate your home like that. And you certainly weren’t even sure what is it to have a dream. But you hoped you’ll create some once you step your foot down, somewhere else than here. It doesn’t have to be Manhattan in particular. Anywhere but here is fine.

"Peaches, love, be sweet and bring us another beer from the fridge on your way to work, would ya?"

The request snapped you out of your thoughts, bringing you back to the present moment. With a nod, you forced a smile, hiding the turmoil within as you moved to comply with his request. You were sure you'd be late to your shift at Anubis yet again, but you knew that Namjoon would turn a blind eye. He always did when it came to you.

But Namjoon was not present the moment you stepped into Anubis that night. As you made your way through the dimly lit interior of Anubis, a sense of foreboding settled over you like a heavy blanket. The usual hustle and bustle of the bar seemed muted, the air thick with tension as you approached the bar.

Mrs. Jung was still nowhere to be found and therefore, for a few months, Namjoon had replaced her. But tonight he was not here. He usually came around ten p.m. and stayed until you cleaned the very last table and closed the bar.

Taking a deep breath, you squared your shoulders and set about your duties, determined to carry on despite the growing sense of unease that lingered in the air. But as the night wore on, the feeling of dread only intensified, leaving you on edge as you awaited Namjoon's return.

You watched the sun rising through the large windows that let the light come into the bar that was still beaming with a significant number of people of various ages. Despite your efforts to focus on your tasks, your thoughts kept drifting back to him. Where could he be? Why hadn't he shown up as usual? The questions nagged at you, fueling the unease that had settled in your stomach like a lead weight.

"Peaches?!" You heard the voice of one of the local and returning customers from the other side of the dancing floor. He was a friend. Or so you thought. He raised two fingers into the air and in a second you were already pouring the brownish liquid of Jung's Whiskey into the crystal-clear glasses.

You walked over to the table he was sitting at alongside a face you'd never seen before. Thanking you for the drinks, he pointed his thumb to the man sitting next to him.

"Peaches, Jinyoung—"

"Jinyoung, Peaches."

You offered a polite smile, acknowledging the introduction as you set down the drinks on the table. The unfamiliar man, Jinyoung, returned the gesture with a nod, his expression unreadable.

"Nice to meet you, Jinyoung," you replied, your voice tinged with a hint of curiosity.

Jinyoung's gaze met yours, his eyes dark and probing as if searching for something within you. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of discomfort under his scrutiny, a feeling that only added to the unease already gnawing at your insides. Something about him set off alarm bells in your mind, a primal instinct warning you to tread carefully.

"What's a beauty like you doing tucked in Anubis?" Jinyoung asked, his voice smooth and velvety. You glanced around the dimly lit bar, suddenly aware of the eyes that seemed to linger on you from every corner, not understanding why.

"I... I work here," you said, a sudden shyness prevailing on the surface. You never really engaged with other men apart from Namjoon. For some reason, each time a man approached you, all of them quickly backed out, opting to not even look your way. For a long time, you did not know what you did wrong to chase them all away. But you got to know that night.

Jinyoung's lips quirked into a knowing smile, his gaze never leaving yours.

"I can offer you a better job, beauty," his words dripping with a seductive allure, and in that moment, you decided you needed to get back to work ASAP. He sounded like trouble you did not want on your last days here.

"I... I appreciate the offer, but I'm quite content here," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

"You sure? I could have good use of someone like you, Peaches." Your heart pounded in your chest as Jinyoung's words washed over you. He played with your name on his tongue, and you had a hint that the job he was offering you would be something much worse than working in Anubis.

"Easy, Jinyoung, that's Namjoon's girl you're talking to." Jackson finally spoke up as if he heard your little begging in your head, but this was not what you expected him to say. Were you Namjoon's girl? Years went by and he merely brushed upon your hand with his own. There was no attempt to woo you directly. So how come everyone saw it this way—you as Namjoon's girl?

"I'm not Namjoon's girl—" you said, standing your ground for once. You saw Jackson's eyes widen and Jinyoung smirk at your remark.

"I'm no one's girl—"

"Nonetheless, thanks for the offer but I have to decline." Jinyoung's smirk widened at your words, his gaze flickering with amusement as if he found your defiance entertaining. A second later you were on your way back to the bar. He was Jackson's friend, but he was crude and he did not understand he ought to fuck off. The grip you suddenly felt on your upper arm was painful enough to make you wince, yanking you back as you squinted your eyes from the pain of his touch.

"What makes you say no if you're no one's slu—" your ears picked up his words before they were silenced. Forever. His last words were cut off by a deafening gunshot, leaving you frozen in shock. The sound of it still ringing in your ears as you turned to see the source of the chaos. There, standing with a smoking gun in his hand, was Namjoon, his expression unreadable as he stared down at Jinyoung's lifeless form. One side of Jackson's face was covered in blood that was his friend's, his shock mirroring your own. And you were scared to even move an inch.

Namjoon had just killed a man in cold blood, he shot him right in front of you. Without mercy. Panic surged through you as you realized the gravity of what had just transpired. The grip he had on your upper arm weakened yet remained even after his head fell down. It was a clear shot to the side of his head.

By now, half of the bar emptied, only those underworld rats stayed unfazed. Namjoon was always so calm, so collected. But now, he looked like a completely different person. The bar had fallen into an eerie silence, broken only by the sound of your own ragged breathing. You wanted to run, but your legs failed you, unable to move as the reality of the situation sank in.

"What—" your heart hammered in your chest as you searched for something, anything, to say, but the words caught in your throat, choked by the weight of the moment. Your whole body trembled uncontrollably, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. You reached to pull your hand away from Jinyoung's lifeless grip and while you struggled to do so, the scenery before you was not helping you to calm down. The side of his head blown up, you could see parts of his brain, immediately making you empty your stomach on the floor. The fact that Namjoon hadn't said a word since he literally came out of nowhere was not contributing to the situation either.

You heard his smooth voice but it was too muffled at this point. He was giving orders to Jackson, but you did not understand a single word coming out of his mouth. Your head was spinning and the room felt like a carousel.

"Why would you—" you began to stutter, your voice barely a whisper. The question died on your lips, swallowed by the overwhelming sense of dread that hung heavy in the air. Namjoon had just committed an act of unspeakable violence, ending a man's life without a second thought. Nothing will be the same ever again. You stayed out of all the illegalness that surrounded Anubis on purpose. What eyes don't see, heart doesn't hurt. What you don't know, can't hurt you. But now you eye-witnessed such brutality and he won't let you walk away to the other end of the rainbow.

You did not expect him to hear you nor even answer your remark, but of course, Kim Namjoon was always here to listen to you.

"He touched you."

The words hit you like a physical blow, jolting you out of your stunned silence. He wasn't just stating a fact; he was issuing a warning, a chilling reminder of the consequences of crossing him. Looking him in the eye, he looked like a possessive maniac, like someone determined to protect what he perceived as his.

"He didn't—" you began, your voice faltering under the weight of Namjoon's scrutiny. Yet you stopped yourself to think whether Jinyoung's intentions were harmless or not. You remembered the way Jinyoung had leered at you, his touch lingering where it shouldn't have.

"No one can touch you, Peaches."

You felt a chill run down your spine as the weight of his words settled over you. It wasn't just a declaration; it was a promise, a vow to protect you at any cost. But beneath the surface, you sensed something darker, something primal and possessive that sent chills down your body.

You were paralyzed by the intensity of his gaze, unable to tear your eyes away from his. Your mind raced with a million thoughts and questions, but you knew better than to voice them.

That night you started to hate each and every gaze he threw your way when you were working, all the men running away after uttering a single word to you, and all the remarks about you being Namjoon's girl.

But were you ready to be Namjoon's girl? To be part of his world?

You sit up, the sheets clinging to your skin like a shroud, and confront the spectres that linger above. Even after some weeks, you still cannot shake off the tremor you've experienced that night.

"Peaches?!" You heard your father's voice. You were hidden in the confines of your small room for days now, coming out only to take a bottle of water, and even that you managed to minimize by taking the whole six-pack. You couldn't bring yourself to respond.

The look in Namjoon's eyes, the sound of the gunshot ringing in your ears, the sight of Jinyoung's lifeless body—all of it was seared into your mind, haunting you like a relentless spectre. You needed some time. But it was running out quickly.

Lost in the labyrinth of your thoughts, you remained silent, grappling with the weight of the choices that lay before you. You packed your bag last night, all the cash stuffed inside at various places, just to be turned right back on your heel by two muscular men you'd never met before. The color they wore was emerald green, and you quickly understood that those were Jung soldiers, if you could call them that.

Your father was similarly confused. His eyes were darting between you and the soldiers as he struggled to make sense of the situation. So here you are, awaiting when he will decide to collect you. What is he waiting for? You knew that your time was running out; you just didn't know exactly when it would run out.

In that moment that night, you missed the Namjoon you thought he was. All you could see was a stranger, a dangerous man whose actions had shattered your illusions and left you reeling in their wake. Yes, you knew his line of work, but you'd rather not see it with your own two eyes. You'd rather stay oblivious to who he really was just to keep the picture of the Namjoon you knew hanging a little bit longer.

"You can't hide there forever." And you certainly did not plan to, but coming out to see your father's worried face after he sees how disheveled you look could wait for another day or so. You did not know what Namjoon intended to achieve by making you a prisoner in your own home.

Every fiber of your being wanted to hate Namjoon, but you did not know whether that was even possible with how smart that man was with his mouth.

This cage of fear and uncertainty made you uneasy. The wind that forcefully closed your window awoke you from your thoughts. You lived on the second floor of an old block of apartments. You moved toward the old rusted window, cautiously pushing it open again. The cool night air rushed to meet your cheeks, and you closed your eyes to feel it.

Peering down, you assessed the drop. It wasn't too high, and the fire escape just below offered a feasible route. Why had it not occurred to you earlier?

"Peaches, please, talk to me. They've been saying that you can't go out and should wait for sajangnim Kim."

Your father's voice was strained, a mix of concern and frustration. You hesitated, torn between the urge to reassure him and the pressing need to just run for the hills before it was too late for you.

What you realized in the moment, listening to his muffled pleas, was that this might be the last time you'd see him. You couldn't come back to the Bronx ever again. Nor New York. You weren't sure exactly what the magnitude of Jung's power was that Namjoon shared, but you had the hunch that wherever you'd hide in this state, he would find you.

"Dad?" you said softly, your voice barely a whisper. You felt a lump in your throat, the weight of the impending goodbye pressing down on you. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

"I'm here, Peaches," your father responded, his voice breaking slightly. "Please, come out. We'll figure this out." Tears welled up in your eyes as you clung to the closed door.

"It's no go, Dad."

"Please, just open the door." His voice was closer now, just outside the door.

You glanced around your room, grabbing your packed bag and slipping it over your shoulder.

"I love you, Dad. I'm sorry. Bye—"

With a final, sorrowful glance toward the door, you slipped out of the window, your feet finding purchase on the metal grating of the fire escape. You descended quickly, not daring to look back. The metal stairs creaked under your weight, each step taking you further from the life you knew. You needed to disappear.

You had no shoes on, and the white tank top clung to your skin, outlining your curves and breasts. The night air was cool against your exposed skin, a harsh contrast to the warmth of your tears. The metal of the stairs felt rough under your bare feet, but you pushed forward until you were all the way down.

Catching your breath and glancing around the dimly lit alleyway, the city felt oppressively silent, the only sound your own ragged breathing. As you took a step forward, a soft scoff resonated in your ears, leaving you standing there frozen. The man was totally invisible in the dark shadows of the alley between the buildings until he pulled out his zippo lighter to light a cigarette, illuminating his face. He exhaled a cloud of smoke, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Where are you headed, Peaches?"

The man who was casually leaning against the cold bricks wasn't unfamiliar to you. You, as a barmaid at Anubis, had the extravagant privilege to meet four out of the big seven. Kim Taehyung being one of them, standing here in front of you.

"Mr. Kim," you breathed, dread pooling in your stomach. You were on a first-name basis only with Namjoon even though they all scolded you, especially your lady boss, for being way too formal and polite, making them feel older than they actually are. Truth be told, you were putting some distance between them, but you utterly failed to do so with Namjoon, and here you are, on the run.

"I'm your family now, Peaches," Taehyung said, his voice dripping with mockery. "You should start getting used to that, so drop the mister finally."

You gritted your teeth, trying to steady your nerves as you faced Taehyung. "Taehyung," you corrected yourself, though the informal address felt wrong on your tongue.

"That's better, what a good girl you can be," he said with a smirk, taking a step closer. His presence felt suffocating, a reminder of the dangerous world you had stumbled into.

"Why are you here, Taehyung?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

"Why are you here, Peaches?" Taehyung countered, his tone filled with amusement. You bit the inside of your mouth, feeling the nerves tighten their grip on you.

"Getting some fresh air," you replied, trying to sound casual despite the knot of anxiety tightening in your chest.

Taehyung raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "Ah, yes, because nothing says 'fresh air' like sneaking out of your window in the dead of night," he quipped, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his scrutiny bearing down on you. "I just needed to clear my head," you said, hoping he would buy your flimsy excuse.

"You are not planning to do anything stupid now, Peaches, right?" You paused, considering your response carefully. Taehyung's tone, though casual, carried a hint of warning that sent a shiver down your spine. You slightly shook your head to show dismissal.

"Namjoon-hyung said you looked pretty shaken up that night." You couldn't help but tense at Taehyung's mention of Namjoon, a surge of apprehension coursing through you. You had tried to bury the memories of that night deep within you, but they continued to resurface, haunting your every thought.

"I'm fine," you replied, forcing a tight smile. "Just had a rough night, that's all."

"It looks like you're about to have another one to me." Your heart skipped a beat at Taehyung's ominous remark, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. Despite his casual demeanor, there was an underlying tension in the air that sent a shiver down your spine.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the rising sense of unease.

"Unzipped duffle bag, dollar bills fell from it while you were going down, that looks like you were very eager to get that fresh air."

"I... I was just going for a walk," you stammered, scrambling for an excuse. Taehyung raised an eyebrow, his gaze unwavering.

"Without putting your shoes on?"

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of Taehyung's scrutiny bearing down on you. "I couldn't sleep," you admitted, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I needed some fresh air to clear my head.” You repeat yourself, but you know that you can’t fool him no matter what.

Taehyung's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he shrugged, as if dismissing the matter altogether. "Well, you certainly know how to make an exit," he remarked, his smirk never faltering.

You forced a weak smile, trying to mask the unease bubbling inside you. "Guess I've always had a flair for the dramatic," you quipped, though the words rang hollow in your ears.

Taehyung chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "That you do, Peaches. That you do," he said cryptically, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and something else you couldn't quite decipher.

"You know, Namjoon doesn't like it when his... family goes missing," he said, the emphasis on 'family' making you flinch. He took a slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling the smoke in a lazy stream.

You clenched your fists, feeling trapped. "I'm not missing," you said, your voice firmer than before. "I'm right here."

"I'd probably get a head start if I were you." Taehyung nodded slowly, as if considering your words.

Your heart pounded in your chest. "A head start?"

He took another drag, the smirk never leaving his lips. "I'm not a monster, Peaches. I'll give you a five-minute head start before I come after you."

The realization hit you like a ton of bricks. He was actually giving you a chance to run, but this time you would know someone was after you. You glanced around, calculating your options. The streets were empty, but you knew they wouldn't stay that way for long.

"Five minutes, Peaches. Starting now."

You turned and ran, your bare feet slapping against the pavement. The adrenaline coursed through your veins as you sprinted down the alley, knowing that Taehyung's smirk was etched in your mind.

You didn't know where you were going, but you knew you had to get as far away as possible. Everything blurred as you pushed yourself to run faster, the sound of your heartbeat drowning out everything else.

If you hide well, he can't find you, can he? You just have to find yourself a place to hide until morning and then you can wait till sunrise, get to the airport and fly to the first destination that will pop up.

You could feel the cold concrete scraping your feet, but the pain was a distant echo compared to the urgency of escape. You glanced over your shoulder, half-expecting to see Taehyung's figure emerging from the shadows, but for now, you were alone.

The five minutes neared their end, and you knew you couldn't stay hidden forever. You had to keep moving, keep putting distance between you and Taehyung. Peering through the leaves, you scanned the area, your mind racing through possible routes and hiding spots.

"If I don’t bring you back, he'll come instead, Peaches!" Taehyung's voice echoed through, taunting you.

"You don't want to anger him, do you now?"

You needed a plan, and fast. Glancing around, you noticed a narrow passageway between two buildings, just wide enough for you to squeeze through. It might lead you to a different part of the neighborhood, giving you a chance to lose Taehyung in the labyrinth of backstreets.

You bolted towards the passageway, your bare feet slapping against the cold pavement. The alley was narrow and dark, but you pushed forward, heart pounding in your chest. Every shadow seemed to move, every sound amplified in the stillness of the night.

"They all run at first, Peaches—" Taehyung's voice echoed, closer now. "You're cute thinking you have a chance to get away."

It was way too narrow even if you put your bag down from your shoulder and dragged it as you tried to squeeze through. Every shadow seemed to move, every sound amplified in the stillness of the night, and you were scared that he would get to you soon. You knew he was out there, somewhere, searching for you.

"Although, my mind is troubled. Why, out of all of them, do you run?" There was a pause, then a chuckle.

You pushed yourself harder, feeling the rough brick walls scrape against your skin. You needed to keep moving, but you also needed a moment to think. The airport was too far, especially when they were already looking for you. You thought you were clever to disappear through the window as if you were in some cheesy cliché movie.

"Namjoon-hyung was always good to you, wasn't he?" He was. Until the moment someone else's brain was blown up by him right in front of you, simply because of his possessiveness while he never made you two exclusive. Or at least you thought so, as it showed—you were claimed by him sooner than you actually realized. You felt the panic rising in your chest, threatening to overwhelm you.

"You have no reason to run, Peaches," Taehyung's voice was taunting, echoing off the walls. "Namjoon-hyung will be so disappointed when he finds out how far you've gone." You ignored the majority of his words, focusing on finding a way out.

You closed your eyes and tried to think harder this time. The old train yard—bingo—it was on the outskirts of the city. It was abandoned, a place where few people ventured. If you could make it there, you might be able to find a boxcar to hide in until morning.

"Family doesn't abandon family, Peaches!" You heard his voice again, this time more distant.

Emerging from the passageway, you found yourself in a small courtyard. It was littered with old furniture and discarded trash; the smell was awful, but you didn't have time to dwell on that.

You listened intently, straining to hear any sign of Taehyung. The silence was deafening, broken only by the distant hum of traffic and the occasional bark of a dog.

You stuck to the shadows, moving as quietly as possible. The train yard was a long way off, but it was your best shot at staying out of immediate reach. Or so you thought.

You couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Every rustle of leaves, every distant footstep made you jump. You forced yourself to stay calm, to focus on the path ahead. Panicking would only slow you down.

The city's edge came into view, the silhouette of the train yard looming in the distance. You quickened your pace, the sight of your potential sanctuary giving you a burst of energy. You crossed the threshold into the yard, the rusted tracks and abandoned cars offering a twisted sense of comfort.

An old boxcar with the door slightly ajar beckoned to you. You slipped inside, the smell of rust and decay filling your nostrils. You closed the door behind you, plunging the space into darkness. It was cramped and musty, but it was hidden.

Sinking to the floor, you allowed yourself a moment to breathe. Your body ached, your feet throbbed, but you had made it. For now, you were safe. You could only hope that Taehyung would give up the chase, or at least lose your trail long enough for you to figure out your next move.

The sound of gravel crunching outside the boxcar woke you up and consequently made your heart jump into your throat. You held your breath, straining to listen. The footsteps were deliberate and slow, echoing through the stillness of the night.

You held your breath, trying to remain as quiet as possible. The footsteps drew closer, each crunch of gravel sending a shockwave through your body. Your mind raced with possibilities. Was it Taehyung? Or perhaps someone else stumbling upon your hiding spot?

"I seriously don't understand why you didn't throw her over your shoulder and take her back to her room." The older male shot him a glare.

"Oh come the fuck on, you're one to talk." It was Taehyung's voice, laced with frustration and annoyance.

“I did not lose her, I gave her choice and she chose wrong, she’ll be back though, in no time.” The younger one scoffed and Taehyung quirked his brows, evidently amused by his brother.

"Well, at least that was my woman I lost and not our Hyung's." The tattooed heartthrob spat his friend's way when he heard his scoff.

"This isn't really my job. I'm only doing this because Namjoon cares about her too much to leave someone incompetent to watch her until he'll come back."

“Or you’re the only one without a woman, Tae.” You heard a little thump as if he jokingly punched him and the other voice chuckled. But first and foremost –

Namjoon's away. He did not come for you as he's away, and if away means out of the state, you have a bigger chance to make an exit than you originally thought.

Seeing him would only make things worse. Listening to his sweet melodies of words would make you doubt what Taehyung initiated—you have no reason to run. Apart from that, you do. He was deeply entrenched in the world of organized crime, his life a constant dance between power and peril. While his charming demeanor and enigmatic presence had drawn you in, you knew that his lifestyle came with its own set of risks and consequences.

He operated in the shadows, his actions dictated by a code of loyalty to his comrades and ruthlessness towards his enemies. At least that's what you heard people talk about the Jungs and their family man.

You didn't think there was room for innocence. But were you innocent? You had blood on your hands. Jinyoung's. You had been complicit in his demise. While it wasn't you who pulled the trigger, you were the motive.

As the voices grew louder, you strained to make out what they were saying. The sound of footsteps approached the boxcar, each one sending a jolt of fear through you. Were they getting closer? Were they about to open the door and drag you out into the open?

"I did not expect her to play the game that well, I have to give her that," Taehyung remarked, his voice tinged with admiration. Your heart raced as you listened to their conversation.

"Smart, just like he is."

The footsteps came to a stop just outside the boxcar, and you braced yourself for the door to swing open at any moment. Every nerve in your body was on edge, ready to flee at the first sign of danger.

But instead of the door creaking open, the voices began to fade away, the gravel crunching underfoot growing softer as they moved further away. Relief washed over you in waves, but you remained cautious, waiting until the sound of their footsteps had disappeared entirely before allowing yourself to relax.

You stayed hidden in the darkness of the boxcar, unsure of how much time had passed. Eventually, the adrenaline began to ebb, leaving you exhausted and drained. You were scared that they were waiting outside and the moment you decided to move places would be fatal for you.

The growl in your stomach was loud, echoing in the empty boxcar. You hadn't eaten in what felt like an eternity, and the gnawing hunger was beginning to take its toll. Despite the fear that they might be lying in wait, you knew you couldn't stay here forever or you'd die of hunger very soon.

Despite the fear that they might be lying in wait, you knew you couldn't stay here forever. Peeking through the small gap, you scanned the area. The night was still, and there was no sign of Taehyung or anyone else.

Slipping out of the boxcar, you kept to the shadows, moving quietly and quickly. You needed to find food, but more importantly, you needed to find a safer place to hide. If you couldn't reach the airport, you'd have to wait somewhere until you were considered off the radar. Would Namjoon lose his interest if he knew you were gone for good? You hoped so, but you also strongly doubted that. The man had had his eyes set on you for three years or so, without ever losing interest in you.

The city was vast, with many nooks and crannies where you could potentially evade capture, but you moved in the dead of the night cautiously. Slowly closing the distance between the convenience store at least ten blocks from your home, its lights were still on and you thanked the almighty, or more so the 24 hour market in front of you.

The store seemed deserted, only a shabby-looking man in his mid-thirties sitting behind the counter, half asleep. You slipped inside, quickly grabbing some food and water before leaving to pay at the counter. When the doorbell rang indicating that a customer entered the small store, you froze in place.

You ducked behind a shelf, hoping the dim lighting and cluttered aisles would conceal you. Peering through a gap between products, you saw a figure enter. You may be paranoid but you wouldn't take the risk when you had managed to not be caught for what seemed like hours. You knew better.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the sound of your heartbeat almost louder than the growling stomach from earlier. You clutched the food tightly, muscles tense, waiting for the perfect moment to quickly throw the few bucks on the counter and make your leave. You straightened a little.

It wasn't him. It was just a person that resembled him. With a rush of relief, you moved to the counter. The shabby-looking clerk barely glanced up as you placed your items down and reached into your pocket for the money. Just as you were about to pay, a hand slammed the money down on the counter in front of you. Your heart skipped a beat and your eyes widened.

You looked up slowly, dread pooling in your stomach. Taehyung stood beside you, his eyes locking onto yours with a cold, triumphant smile.

"My treat," he said smoothly, his voice dripping with mock politeness. You froze, your breath catching in your throat. The clerk, oblivious to the tension, lazily rang up the items and handed the change to Taehyung. He pocketed it without breaking eye contact with you.

You acted rather quickly after you regained your senses, but the exit was blocked by the man you saw earlier. How could you not recognize the famous heartthrob of this decade, Jeon Jungkook? Only a few people knew of his connection to the Jungs, Kims, and Parks.

"Going somewhere?" Jungkook's voice was smooth and exactly identical to the one you heard outside of the boxcar, but there was an edge to it that sent chills down your spine. He leaned casually against the doorframe, his dark eyes fixed on you with a predatory gleam.

Panic surged through you as you realized your escape route was cut off. You glanced around the store, searching for another way out, but Taehyung's hand clamped down on your arm, his grip firm and unyielding.

The clerk did not care to intervene; he knew their faces and what they represented. One girl was not worth the trouble for him.

"Let's go," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. You had no choice but to follow, your mind racing with thoughts of escape. As you stepped out of the store, the chilly night air hit you, a stark contrast to the suffocating presence of Taehyung beside you. You scanned the street for any potential way out, but Taehyung's grip on your arm tightened, steering you toward a nearby alley.

You stumbled slightly, trying to keep pace with him. The alley was dark and narrow, the perfect place for someone to disappear. Desperation surged through you, fueling your determination. You had to find a way out of this.

"You lasted more than I expected, Peaches. I have to give you that." You fought to suppress the shiver that threatened to run down your spine. Taehyung's voice, usually smooth and melodic, now held an edge of something darker, something sinister.

"But it's time to go home."

The weight of his intentions pressed down on you like a heavy stone. You did not know what home he was speaking of. Your home? Namjoon's home? You'd never been there; you couldn't know what home he meant. But something told you that wherever he'd take you, "home" would be a gilded cage, a place of confinement disguised as comfort.

You remained silent, your jaw clenched in defiance as you continued to walk, your eyes darting around the alley for any sign of escape. But every corner seemed to lead to another dead end, and the walls closed in around you like a vice.

Tears welled up in your eyes as the desperation hit your nerves. Taehyung's grip tightened slightly, as if warning you against any further attempts at escape.

"There was no need to run, Peaches." Wasn't there? You stopped to think for a minute. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart.

With a sudden burst of strength, you twisted out of Taehyung's grip and bolted. The sound of his shout echoed behind you, but you didn't look back. You darted through the maze of backstreets, your only goal to put as much distance between you and Taehyung as possible.

Reaching a dead end, you spotted a fire escape ladder. Without a second thought, you began climbing, your fingers slipping on the cold metal. You reached the rooftop, not daring to look back as you sprinted across the gravel. The cityscape stretched before you, a chaotic playground of rooftops and danger.

You leaped from one building to the next, each landing jarring your bones, but you couldn't stop. You heard Taehyung's voice calling your name, a mix of frustration and anger, but you didn't dare slow down. You reached the edge of a particularly wide gap between buildings and hesitated, just a split second too long.

A strong arm wrapped around your waist, yanking you back. You thrashed, but the grip was unyielding. Jungkook's face came into view, his expression grim. He was faster than Taehyung, and you knew your chances to outrun him were slight, but you still hoped.

"You can't run forever, Peaches," he said quietly, almost regretfully. You could hear Taehyung's leather boots stomping against the roof's concrete and his ragged breath in unison.

You struggled, kicking and clawing, but he held firm. Your heart sank as the reality of the situation set in. Just then, you heard the uncomfortable digital sound of the Motorola flip phone that was in Taehyung's hand once he stopped in front of you.

"Hmm?" Taehyung answered the phone and ended the gut-wrenching sound. You knew who was on the other side of the line. Jungkook still held you securely, his eyes never leaving yours.

There was a pause, and then he handed you the phone.

"Your Mr. Man wants to speak to you."

You hesitated for a moment, the weight of the phone heavy in your hand. With a deep breath, you brought it to your ear, steeling yourself for the inevitable confrontation with Namjoon.

"Hello?" Your voice trembled slightly, betraying the fear and uncertainty swirling within you.

"You're losing sleep, love," he said, his tone smooth but laced with a menacing undertone. You took a shaky breath.

"S-so are you." He chuckled. You bit the inside of your lip out of nerves.

"I'd sleep better if you came back to me like the good girl I know you are."

The mixture of his charm and underlying threat was intoxicating and terrifying.

"I can't, Namjoon," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I can't live like this anymore. I never wanted to live like this, and you knew that."

"Life is just about to begin for you, love—" he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Our life," he added, and your grip tightened around the phone.

"What does that even mean?" you demanded, a mix of anger and desperation coloring your words.

"It means," he began, his voice smooth yet chilling, "that whatever you fear, we'll figure this out together."

"Please, Namjoon," you begged, your voice barely a whisper. "Let me go. I can't. I just can't," you cried out.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and you held your breath, hoping against hope that he might relent. Your heart pounded with a mix of fear and helplessness.

"Freedom is an illusion, love," he said, almost gently. "The only freedom you'll ever have is with me. Now, come back. We'll talk this through, and I promise you, everything will be fine. Just trust me."

"Namjoon—"

"Peaches—" he quickly interrupted your attempt to plead again.

"Don't make me take harsher measures to ensure you'll come back to me." His tone grew colder, the underlying threat unmistakable.

"Wh-what are you talking about?" you asked, a tremor in your voice.

"You know what I can do. It would be a shame if the same thing happened to someone else you care about." His words hung in the air, heavy with menace.

You looked at Jungkook and Taehyung, their faces impassive yet resolute. They were ready to enforce Namjoon's will, no matter the cost.

"Why are you doing this to me?" you asked, voice quivering.

"We can talk about that once you come home," Namjoon replied, his voice smooth but unyielding.

"Namjoon, please..." you started, desperation lacing your words.

"Enough, Peaches," he cut you off sharply. "You know what's at stake. I expect you back within an hour. Hand the phone to Taehyung."

With a heavy heart, you handed the phone back to Taehyung. He took it, his eyes filled with a mix of pity, but you didn't think it was genuine. You felt Jungkook's grip loosen slightly, but not enough to let you go.

Taehyung listened to Namjoon for a moment, then nodded. "Understood," he said before hanging up. He looked at you, his expression resigned.

"Let's go," he said softly.

You don't even know how you managed to fall asleep in the car. They took your bag, draped a warm blanket over you, and sat you down on the back seat. You did not protest anymore, even though the thought of jumping out of the car went through your head briefly.

You thought of your father, your friends, and everyone you ever met and cared for when he took the ultimate move that would make you leave everything in a heartbeat. You don't want more blood on your hands.

At the same time, you could not understand why Namjoon would take such harsh measures. This wasn't the Namjoon you knew—heck, you don't even know if you ever knew that man.

The lavish room surrounding you was magnificent and screaming one name: Namjoon. Even his scent was clinging to every single piece of the room. The silk sheets clung to your skin, and you couldn't help but close your eyes again. The morning light filtered through the heavy curtains, casting a golden hue across the room.

You could hear the audible difference in your surroundings. The Bronx had a distinctive hum, a chaotic symphony of life and struggle. But this—this was different. The sounds outside the open window were unmistakably Manhattan. The distant buzz of traffic, the occasional honk of a horn, and the muffled chatter of people far below created a stark contrast to the quiet tension inside.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. Every moment spent here felt like a betrayal to the life you once knew, the people you once loved. But escape wasn't just about physical freedom—it was about breaking free from the psychological chains Namjoon had wrapped around you.

You did not know whether you weren't running for the hills now because this oddly feels like you are meant to be here or because you don't know if you should. You spent a lot of time rolling around and thinking about this. You had not come to a conclusion yet. You'd only decided that you would give him the courtesy to talk after all the years that he and his family supported you by giving you a job.

With that resolve, you climbed out of bed, feeling the weight of silk sheets slipping away. The cold floor sent a shiver up your spine, bringing you fully awake. You made your way to the bathroom, the reflection in the mirror staring back at you. You need a haircut, maybe even a new hair color.

The shower's hot water provided a temporary refuge, washing away the grime and tension of the past few days. After drying off, you dressed in clothes Namjoon had laid out for you—an unspoken reminder of his control.

You entered the kitchen, where the aroma of breakfast hung in the air. The scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the rich aroma of bacon and eggs, momentarily distracting you. You were starving.

As you moved further into the room, a sudden noise made you jump. Startled, you turned to see a figure in a white chef's uniform bustling about the kitchen. He looked up, his eyes widening in surprise as he saw you.

"Good morning, Misses Kim," he said with a polite nod. "I didn't expect you to be up so early.” The title he used sent a shiver down your spine. Misses Kim. It was as if the walls were closing in, suffocating you with the weight of an identity that wasn’t yours to claim. You overlooked yourself and your attire.

You could see your bra-less breasts and perky nipples through that white tanktop, but the chef was trained well enough to not look that way. He would most likely be beheaded by Namjoon if he would dare to look that way.

"Good morning," you replied, your voice tinged with a mix of nerves and hunger. You forced a small smile.

The chef, a middle-aged man with kind eyes, set down the spatula he was holding and wiped his hands on a towel. "My name is Seo Kang-joon, Misses Kim. I'm Sajangnim's private chef—" you figured that much. Of course that man has a private chef when he cannot boil a potato for the love of God.

"He tasked me to make you some breakfast and tell you he'll be with you shortly," he explained, gesturing to the array of food laid out on the counter.

You nodded, taking a seat at the kitchen island. Your stomach growled audibly, and despite the chaos in your mind, the food before you was an undeniable lure. You picked up a piece of toast, buttering it slowly as Kang-joon resumed his work.

"How long have you been working for Namjoon?" you asked, trying to fill the silence with something other than your own anxious thoughts.

Kang-joon glanced up from the stove, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "About three years now," he replied. "I've switched with my Appa; he was working for the Kims for two generations and now it's my turn—"

"That's a long time," you said, taking a bite of the toast, the warmth of the food providing a small comfort.

"Yes, it is," he agreed, his voice gentle. "Namjoon is a good employer, he's always treated us fairly. And he cares about you a great deal—"

"I've seen you before, didn't I?" you interrupted, suddenly recalling a moment that had slipped through your mind like sand.

"At the private party last month. You were serving food, right?"

Kang-joon nodded, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yes, that was me. I remember seeing you there, although you were quite busy too—"

You were supposed to be waitressing the tables, plural, yet you only waitressed one table that night. As per usual.

"Yep, that was my reality, I guess," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "Before all of this."

Kang-joon's expression turned somber, and he stopped cooking momentarily.

"Namjoon doesn't let anyone near you, but I've seen how happy you make him. He's different around you." Of course he thinks so. You don't blame him for his inability to see through this. It's not his place.

You fell silent, pondering his words. The chaos of Namjoon's life and the dark undercurrents that surrounded him felt suffocating. "But at what cost?" you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

"He means well—" he paused his thought and got silent, and you knew that means only one thing.

"I appreciate your loyalty to him," you said, forcing a smile that felt brittle on your lips.

"Good morning, love," he said, his voice deep and commanding. His eyes darted between you and Kang-joon, who stood with a spatula in hand, caught in the moment. "I hope you're both having a pleasant chat."

Kang-joon bowed slightly, and you could see the way he was careful to keep his composure, even as the atmosphere shifted with Namjoon's presence. "I was just finishing up breakfast, Sajangnim," he said politely. "Miss Kim and I were discussing your—"

"Thank you, Kang-joon," Namjoon interrupted, his tone suggesting a mixture of gratitude and an underlying tension. "I can take it from here."

The air felt thick, heavy with unspoken words. You looked at him, wanting to scream, wanting to run, wanting to demand answers.

"Did you sleep well?" Namjoon asked, his voice softer now, as if he was trying to breach the walls that had begun to rise between you.

You nursed your coffee in the black ceramic mug while you shrugged, keeping the answer with spice in it for yourself just yet. His brow furrowed, and for a moment, you could see the cracks in his façade when you didn't answer.

"I see... silent treatment," he gulped down, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. Pouring himself a cup of coffee too, he leaned on the counter right in front of you. You took his appearance in. He got a buzz cut, creamy satin shirt tucked in leather pants. A few of the buttons were undone, giving you a perfect view of his toned chest.

"Is that really how you want to start the day?" he provoked. You set the mug down, the clink of ceramic against marble echoing in the tension-filled kitchen.

"Did you ask yourself the same question when you threatened me?" you shot back, your voice rising slightly as the memories flooded back. The anger surged within you, igniting a fire that had been smoldering since the moment you woke up in his penthouse.

Namjoon's expression shifted, the warmth in his eyes replaced by a flicker of defensiveness.

"Well, you for some reason seemed too adamant that you needed to patrol the streets of Bronx by running away from me. I know you too damn well, Peaches; I know where you were headed."

The words stung, each syllable laced with accusation and an unsettling truth. Your heart raced, the anger bubbling just below the surface.

"You know fucking shit, Namjoon—"

"Oppa," he jumped in, his voice firm, yet tinged with a note of caution.

You inhaled sharply, the familiar term slicing through the tension like a knife. It reminded you of the intimate moments you once shared. "You've lost that honorific the moment you decided to threaten me and kill that man right in front of my eyes!"

Namjoon's jaw clenched, and you could see the conflict brewing beneath his composed exterior.

"You don't understand the kind of world I'm in. We protect ours."

"Protect?" you spat, feeling the heat of betrayal wash over you.

"I'm a person who deserves to make her own choices—" He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing.

"What choices are you making? Running off into the night like it's some kind of adventure? You think that's brave? I refuse to let you get hurt because you're unhappy with my decisions."

"Oh yeah, like something would happen to me—"

"You are my woman, and people know that you are, Peaches!" he declared, his voice rising with intensity, as if the weight of his words was meant to command respect from the universe itself.

Your heart raced at his proclamation, a mix of anger and something softer twisting in your gut.

"The fuck you're talking about, Namjoon?" You snapped, your voice echoing off the sleek kitchen walls. Anger surged within you, fueled by the sheer audacity of his claim.

"Not fucking once did you say that we ought to be official one day—" you shot back, your voice dripping with disbelief.

"You act like I'm some sort of possession, something you can just claim without any conversation or commitment!" Namjoon's expression hardened, a flicker of frustration flashing in his eyes.

"You need to stop pretending like we don't have a future because you're scared of the past," he said, smashing the mug down on the counter. Namjoon's jaw tightened, and the conflict in his eyes was palpable.

"Since I was seventeen, not fucking once have you made your intentions strictly clear, Namjoon! The fuck am I doing here then?!" The words burst from your lips, raw and unfiltered, echoing in the tense space between you.

He ran a hand over his face, visibly struggling to keep his composure.

"I thought you knew. I thought you felt it too," he replied, his voice softer now, almost pleading. "I thought it was understood that it was a matter of time."

"Understood?" you scoffed, incredulity seeping into your tone. "You think that just because you've made me a part of your life, I should automatically know my place? That's not how it works!"

"I was waiting till you turned twenty-one—"

"Age of consent is eighteen in this state, Namjoon, keep that bullshit to yourself." Namjoon's expression darkened at your words, and you could see the frustration simmering beneath the surface.

"So you would rather have me taking you as wife and putting a baby into you the moment you turned eighteen, am I right?"

The air crackled with tension as Namjoon's words hung in the space between you, a provocation that sent shockwaves through your body. You felt your breath hitch, a mixture of shock and anger coursing through you.

"So that's the plan now?" you lowered your voice.

His expression softened for a moment, and you could see the conflict etched across his features. "I thought you'd want that kind of future with me, Peaches. I thought we were on the same page from day one."

Despite Namjoon's willingness to talk, the remnants of fear and frustration churned within you, threatening to spill over. You took a deep breath, trying to ground yourself. Your heart raced, the urge to flee growing stronger. He reached out, grabbing your wrist gently but firmly.

"I love you, baby."

Your heart pounded in your chest at his words, a tumultuous blend of emotions crashing over you. You stood up from the stool you were sitting at, calmly aiming for the door. You didn't know what you were doing with this lame attempt to flee.

"Hey—" he shouted, but you did not stop. You could feel Namjoon's gaze burning into your back as you moved toward the door, his loud steps right behind you making you speed up the process.

You couldn't stop. The need to escape overwhelmed you, propelling you forward. You flung the door open, the sharp sound echoing in the silence that followed.

"Peaches!" he shouted again, his voice rising with urgency and desperation. The door rattled on its hinges as he leaned against it, trying to process what had just happened.

"Damn it!" he cursed under his breath, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him. He knew he had pushed too hard, but he couldn't help it.

You trembled under him, still facing the door while his arm was outstretched, palms on the door, blocking you from opening it again. Your breath quickened as you stood there, the cool metal of the doorknob biting into your palm. You could feel Namjoon's presence behind you.

"Let me go, Namjoon," you demanded, your voice steady but wavering just slightly. The pounding of your heart felt like a war drum, urging you to flee, to escape this suffocating moment.

"You would come back to me nonetheless." You turned around to face him, your expression a blend of defiance and vulnerability.

"What makes you think I would?" you shot back, turning slightly to glance over your shoulder at him. The intensity in his eyes made your pulse quicken, a mixture of anger and confusion swirling within you.

"Because you love me back—" He leaned down, not giving you time to argue, and seized the chance to crash his lips down on yours for the first time.

His hands grabbed onto your hips, pulling you closer, the heat from his body seeping into yours. Your heart raced, the adrenaline coursing through your veins as his tongue danced with yours in a heated embrace.

Namjoon's fingers dug into your skin, his grip firm yet tender, as if he was trying to brand you as his own. The kiss was raw, primal, and all-consuming, leaving you both breathless and wanting more.

Namjoon's eyes locked onto yours, the fire within them burning brighter than ever before. With a low growl, he pulled you close again, his lips crashing down on yours once more as the world around you continued to spin.

As the kiss broke, Namjoon pulled away, his eyes burning with intensity.

"I'm not done being angry," you said, your voice low but unwavering. You could feel the heat radiating off him, and it both thrilled and terrified you.

Namjoon's brow furrowed slightly, surprise mingling with the intensity in his gaze. "I know that," he replied, his tone shifting, becoming more serious.

"Good," you spoke right to his lips, your heart still racing from the kiss. The mix of confusion and desire swirled within you, and you struggled to keep your composure.

The cognac brown couch was very comfortable, its soft cushions inviting you to sink in and relax. A glass coffee table with sleek chrome legs stood in front of it, its surface adorned with a stack of art books, a few scattered magazines, and a vintage crystal ashtray. So Namjoon.

A large, floor-to-ceiling window occupied one side of the room, offering a breathtaking view of the city skyline. A Persian rug, with intricate patterns in deep reds and blues, covered the polished hardwood floor, adding a touch of warmth and history to the contemporary space. Again, so Namjoon.

He was crouched down by the fireplace that dominated the place, his back to you. The fire cast a warm, flickering glow across the room, its light dancing over Namjoon's broad shoulders. He started the fire because he saw you shivering. But that had nothing to do with you being cold, and deep down he knew that too. He seemed lost in thought, his fingers idly tracing patterns on the floor as he stared into the flames.

You walked over to him, your footsteps silent on the plush rug. As you approached, Namjoon turned slightly, his eyes meeting yours. You sat down next to him.

"So, how do you imagine all this working?" you asked, your voice gentle yet tinged with the underlying frustration you felt.

Namjoon sighed, rubbing his temples with his fingers. "Just like it did till now."

You frowned slightly, shaking your head.

"So I'm gonna go back to working in Anubis and you are going to keep shooting everyone who gets closer to me?!" you said, a bit harsher than you intended. Namjoon's eyes flashed with a mix of frustration.

"You are not coming back to work in Anubis, let's start with that," he said firmly, his tone brooking no argument.

"My oh my, now you want to take the source of my income too." Namjoon shifted slightly, his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. There was a flicker of something deeper in his eyes.

"You're my woman, Peaches. You don't need to work for money anymore," he started, his voice steady and filled with conviction.

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "You can't be serious."

"Women in our clan don't work for decades, my woman is not gonna work either. At least not like that—" You narrowed your eyes, feeling a mixture of disbelief and intrigue at his declaration.

"That's not who I am, Namjoon." He leaned in closer, the firelight casting a warm glow over his chiseled features.

"Baby, I'm not asking you. I'm offering you the life you always deserved." He sighed, running a hand through his hair, frustration evident on his face.

"I've always been able to take care of myself."

“So now let me take care of you, sweetling.”

Your mind raced as you considered his words. The allure of a life without the constant threat of violence, without the stress of making ends meet, was tempting. But was it worth giving up your autonomy?

“You can still pursue your passions. I’m not taking that away from you,—” Namjoon paused, his expression softening.

“But no Anubis,” he took your hands into his.

“What do you want?” You asked quietly. He held your gaze, the firelight flickering across his face, illuminating the resolve etched in his features.

“I think I made my intentions strictly clear today.” He chuckled and exhaled slowly, his breath warm against your skin.

“I’m not just talking about safety and comfort, Peaches. I’m talking about us. About building a life together.”

You searched his eyes for any sign of insincerity, but all you found was determination.

“You want me to be your… what, exactly?” You knew, you just still didn’t want to believe it.

Namjoon leaned back slightly, still holding your hands, his thumb brushing against your skin in a soothing rhythm. “I want you to be mine—”

“Mind and body, heart and soul.” Namjoon's voice was low and earnest, each word weighted with sincerity.

You swallowed hard, trying to process the depth of what he was asking. “You mean… you want me to commit completely? To be yours in every sense?”

“And I’ll be yours.” He nodded, his eyes unwavering, filled with a mixture of affection and intensity. You felt a rush of emotions—a blend of excitement and fear.

“I can give you a life where you don’t have to look over your shoulder, where you can focus on what truly matters to you—your dreams, your passions, us.”

The promise of safety and love hung heavy in the air between you, and while the thought was tempting, a part of you still clung to your independence. It would be nice not to work long night hours in a bar full of drunk people to make ends meet. Not walking home with keys in your hand in case someone would jump you over or worse. Not living in a small old rusty apartment with your father who barely brought any income home.

The fire crackled softly, and you could feel the warmth radiating from it, mirroring the warmth blooming in your chest.

“I need time.” Namjoon’s expression shifted, his jaw tightening slightly as he processed your words. But he didn’t let go of your hands. Instead, he brought them to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, his gaze unwavering.

“Time,” he echoed, the word almost foreign as it left his mouth. “You already had plenty of time.” The firelight cast shadows across his face, emphasizing the intensity etched into every line.

“You think time will change how you feel? Or how much I want you?” You felt a tremor run through you at the weight of his words. It was suffocating and yet strangely comforting, like a trap laced with silk, binding you softly but securely.

“No, Namjoon, I’m just—” Namjoon’s fingers brushed along your jawline, tipping your face up so that you met his gaze directly.

“I get that this must be overwhelming for you, but the time you are asking for is already up and done—”

“I didn’t know it was ticking,” you began, voice barely more than a whisper. Namjoon tilted his head, studying you, his lips quirking into a small, almost understanding smile.

“No more hidden exits, no more plans to escape. I want you here, with me, committed… without looking for a way out. And in return, I’ll take care of you and your father. That’s my promise to you.”

The warmth in his eyes almost made you believe that he meant well, that beneath the possessive intensity was a genuine desire to protect and love. Yet a lingering voice inside you warned that this love would be an all-consuming fire—one that would consume every part of you until there was nothing left to call your own.

Your mind was racing for the answer. If you say yes, you may as well forget who you were, but perhaps you will find yourself where you always wanted to be. Someone. But what if you say no?

“What if I won’t agree, Namjoon?” You asked, scared for the answer. Namjoon’s gaze darkened, the softness slipping away as his grip tightened just enough for you to feel the control he had over the situation. He leaned in, his lips grazing your ear, his voice a low murmur that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Peaches, let's not pretend that you really have a choice here." His tone was calm, as if explaining something simple, obvious, like the inevitability of night following day.

"Your father," he began slowly, each word dripping with calculated weight, "he's in no position to take care of himself, is he? Without you, what would he do? You've been carrying his burden for years, haven't you? Always working to support him, protecting him, making sure he's safe…"

His voice lowered, softening almost to a whisper, but it was filled with a quiet menace. "But if you refuse me… well, who do you think is going to keep him safe then?"

You felt your heart hammer in your chest, dread creeping into every corner of your mind as you took in his words. This was the second time he was threatening your father.

"What is wrong with you?" You said coldly, staring daggers at his pretty face.

"What's wrong with me?" he echoed, voice laced with a faint, mocking laugh. "I'm doing what needs to be done, Peaches. I'm making sure you understand the lengths I'm willing to go to keep you by my side. You think I'd just stand by and watch you slip away? Again?"

He reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch featherlight but loaded with a silent threat. "I know you love your father," he murmured, voice a dangerous purr. "And that's why I'm reminding you of what's at stake."

You felt anger and fear twist inside you. He let his hand fall, watching your reaction with unsettling calmness, as if daring you to resist. Namjoon had you cornered, and he knew it. Every ounce of control you'd thought you held slipped further from your grasp, his quiet threats carving invisible chains around you.

"Why would you put me in this position?" He sighed, his lips curving into a faint, almost pitying smile as he tilted his head, studying you.

"Because I've been loving you for years, and when I can finally have you, you are trying toplay feminist."

The words hit you like a slap, raw and stinging. You swallowed, unable to look away from the intensity in his eyes. That faint smile on his lips held no warmth; it was twisted with something darker, something possessive.

"Play feminist?" you echoed, your voice wavering with anger and disbelief. "Namjoon, wanting to make my own choices doesn't mean I'm defying you or 'playing' anything. It means I'm a person, with my own will—"

He cut you off, a low chuckle escaping his lips as he shook his head slowly, almost as if you'd amused him.

“Peaches, you still don’t understand, do you? I’m offering you a world where you’re safe, where you don’t have to fight every day to survive. You’d rather keep struggling, keep pretending you’re content living in that cramped one bedroom apartment while your father brings home beer money when you are fighting off every hardship, and here I am, ready to give you the life you deserve.”

His fingers gripped your chin firmly, forcing you to meet his gaze as he leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper but laced with conviction.

“You think you want freedom, independence. But freedom isn’t safe, Peaches. Freedom won’t love you like I do. It won’t sacrifice or protect. It won’t give you everything at the cost of its own soul.”

He released you, letting his hand fall away, his gaze darkening. “This isn’t some game, and it isn’t about principles. It’s about us. And if that means you have to surrender some of that so-called independence, then so be it. I know what’s best for you, Peaches. You just need to stop fighting and see that.”

Namjoon’s gaze shifted to something darker, more resolute, as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet box. The firelight glinted off the soft pink morganite stone, antique piece that must have been in his kin for decades, its delicate beauty a stark contrast to the intensity in his eyes. He held it up, his jaw set, the unspoken command clear in the way he presented it to you.

“Peaches,” he murmured, his voice dangerously calm, “will you marry me?”

Before you could even think to pull away, he took your hand firmly, holding it in place as he slid the ring onto your finger. It was cold against your skin, the weight of it foreign and heavy.

“Say yes.” His voice was low, steady, a dangerous edge lurking beneath the calm exterior. His eyes bore into yours, unwavering, challenging you to defy him. “Say it, Peaches. Agree to be mine, completely, or I’ll make sure you lose everything you’ve been holding onto.”

You felt trapped, his hand tightening around yours as if to remind you of his control over the situation. Your heart raced, your throat dry, as the words hovered on the edge of your lips, unable to escape. But he didn’t let go, his fingers pressing into your skin with an unyielding determination.

“Say it,” he repeated, his voice firmer this time, the softness slipping into something harder, more commanding.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, a feeling of resignation sinking deep into your chest as you stared at the ring, its delicate beauty now a symbol of your surrender.

“Yes,” you whispered, the word barely escaping your lips.

A smile spread across Namjoon’s face, slow and triumphant, as he released your hand, the weight of the ring now settling fully onto your finger. He cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tear that had slipped free, his touch gentle yet possessive.

“There,” he murmured, his voice soft but laced with satisfaction.

“That’s my good girl.”

"Where's my bag?" you start sharply the moment Namjoon walks in, shrugging off the coat from his so-called 'business meeting.' You were obviously not allowed to sit in because women here do not work once they have a ring on their finger. Not like you are dying to be a part of a criminal syndicate that has its roots deeply set in this society. The air between you two is thick, a palpable tension that crackles like static before a storm.

"I looked everywhere, but I cannot seem to find it—"

Successful distilleries may be carrying the Jung name, yet other family members have their own shares of the money capital of the clan, Namjoon not being an exception. His name is presented on each brandy bottle you have had the chance to pour from. But what actually lies under the façade of crystal-clear bottles of whiskey and brandy remains unknown to the upper world.

When you met Namjoon, you didn't see a crime lord. You saw a man with ambition, with a drive that matched yours. But somewhere along the line, his ambition became chains around your wrists, tying you to a life you never chose. That's when you decided that working in Anubis would be only a "college" solution before you would leave the city.

He raises an eyebrow, his expression a mix of surprise and annoyance. "What bag?"

"You know exactly which bag," you snap, stepping closer. Namjoon's eyes darken, his jaw tightening.

"How about we start on lunch?" he suggests, trying to ignore your pleas.

"No," you insist, voice trembling with anger. "I want my bag. I want my money."

"I thought we had settled this last night, didn't we?" he says, his voice low and dangerous.

Your blood boils at his dismissive tone. "Settled? You think you can just placate me and everything will be fine? That money is mine, Namjoon. I earned it."

He steps closer, his presence intimidating but you hold your ground. "Peaches, you ought to be my wife, what's mine is yours. You don't need that money."

You stand firm, not backing down. "Need it or not, it's mine. I worked for it, Namjoon."

Namjoon's eyes narrow, a dangerous glint in them. "You think you can just walk out with that money? You think you can use it to just leave?"

"No, I—" Namjoon steps forward, his eyes cold and calculating. You feel a surge of anger, your hands clenching into fists. "I earned that money, and I deserve to use it as I see fit."

"If you want to spend money, we can go shopping—" His presence overwhelming and oppressive. His words angering you even more.

"SHOPPING?! Are you fucking serious? This isn't about buying things, Namjoon. This is about my life, my choices."

Before you can continue your rambling, he grabs your wrist and pulls you close, his grip like iron. His lips crash onto yours in a bruising, dominating kiss, meant to remind you of his power over you. You struggle, but his hold is unyielding, leaving you breathless and dizzy.

"If you're gonna drop that honorific one more time—" Namjoon's eyes blaze with fury as he keeps you close, his grip almost painful.

"I won't—" you spit out, defiance still burning in your eyes despite the fear gnawing at your insides. "If you give me my money back. I have a right to it." Namjoon laughs coldly, shaking his head.

"Let's just have lunch, Peaches, before I lose my patience completely—" he says, his voice dripping with condescension. You glare at him, refusing to back down.

"Not until you give me my money back." His expression hardens, the cold amusement vanishing.

"You really want to push this, don't you?"

"Yes," you say, your voice unwavering. "Favor for favor, isn't it the mantra y'all go by?" A smirk playing on his lips when you finish the sentence.

"Everything you need, I provide." You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart.

"I worked for that money, Namjoon. I deserve to have control over it."

He steps closer again, his eyes dancing with amusement as he looks down at you. "Control? You want control? Fine," he says, his voice dripping with condescension.

"I've deposited them into an account I opened in your name, joint with mine, naturally," he says, his words carrying that same cool, possessive edge.

"What?" you gasp, your disbelief palpable. "You what?"

"I will give you your black card," he repeats, his lips curling into a taunting smile "—once you prove not to be a flight risk, baby." Namjoon tilts his head, the smirk never fading. This, in essence, means that every single transaction will be noticed. You will withdraw the money from the card—he will know. You will attempt to transfer them to a different account? He will fucking know. The implications hitting you like a gut punch. Your blood runs cold as his words sink in.

"I'm not stupid, Peaches. I know that we gotta work on our relationship." He steps even closer, his gaze intense, pinning you in place. "Let's work on that trust first, and then you can have money at your disposal."

Your heart beats in your throat, the frustration boiling beneath the surface. Trust? The word feels like a cruel joke coming from him.Trust?

"I'm not one of your assets, Namjoon," you spit out, your voice thick with defiance. "And I won't be treated like one." His towering form casting a shadow over you, and for a moment, his eyes soften, as if he's pitying you.

"You don't have a choice, baby." His tone shifts again, dripping with that same chilling calm.

"When you prove you can stay and play nice, then maybe, just maybe, I'll let you have some freedom with your own damn money." And just like that, he's already begun dictating the terms of your life again, his grip on you tighter than ever before.

The missing duffle bag with your money was among the least of your worries when you realized what else the duffle bag possessed.

"You have my passport, Namjoon, how can I run away?" Namjoon's eyes flicker, the amusement fading slightly, but his smirk doesn't falter. He's been expecting this—he always expects everything.

Namjoon's smile is slow, deliberate, almost cruel. "I've taken what I need to keep you close." Namjoon leans in, his breath warm against your ear, his voice low and dangerous.

"But I am not underestimating your spirit."

You're nauseous, the implication of his words settling over you like a weight you can't shake off. He is holding the strings to everything, but that only made you realize that you had a hell of a lot of thinking and plotting to do to get out of here. And the most intrusive thought back in your head, where you consider staying here and embracing this finally official relationship, has to go—quickly.

"So, what now?" you ask, voice trembling despite your best effort to keep it steady. "You plan on keeping me locked up forever, Namjoon-oppa?" Namjoon only smiles, cold and confident.

"No baby. But I will keep you very close, until I can trust you." Your skin prickles where his fingers brush, but you don't pull away. You can't. The need to stay composed, to not give him the satisfaction of seeing you break, fights against the rising tide of rage and fear in your chest.

"And what do you want me to do to earn it, Namjoon?" you ask, your voice steady despite the turmoil roiling inside you. "Beg? Crawl? Pretend everything is fine when it's not?" He tilts his head, studying you like a puzzle he's piecing together in real time. The silence that follows is thick with tension. He stands so close now that you can feel the heat of his body against yours.

"So, lunch it is then?"

His tone is mockingly light, but there's a sharp edge beneath it when he tries to abandon the conversation, the kind that makes you feel trapped.

The black Mercedes hums smoothly along the Bronx streets, its sleek exterior reflecting the gray clouds above. It's going to snow any day now. Inside, the air is thick with tension, an unspoken understanding between the two passengers.

You sit in the backseat, your fingers nervously gripping the edge of your dress, the smooth fabric barely registering under your touch. Your sunglasses hide the unease in your eyes, but the tightness in your chest is something you can't disguise.

Today feels different.

Namjoon sits beside you in the backseat, his gaze fixed ahead, while his hand is warm on your thigh. You are staring at your shoes. Isn't this what you wanted? To ride in an expensive car, wearing Saint Laurent pointy-toed heels? A form-fitting dress with a high neck reveals your figure subtly, and the hungry look Namjoon gave you when you stepped out of the wardrobe did not go unnoticed. Something feels different, as if you're playing dress-up. The allure of the life Namjoon offers, it all feels strangely distant.

You eye him carefully—his black turtleneck is tailored to fit perfectly, sleek and minimalistic. Over it, a black suit jacket, structured but not overly stiff, gives him a commanding presence. His black slacks match the simplicity and power of his look, polished and clean.

The cold air bites against your skin, and you instinctively pull your coat tighter around your shoulders, trying to shield yourself from the chill that seems to creep through the thin fabric of your dress.

"Thank you for letting me see my father," you whisper, your voice barely audible, yet heavy with meaning.

"You don't have to thank me—" he says quietly, his voice low, almost intimate. His gaze doesn't soften, but there's something in the way he stands, commanding yet calm, that makes your heart race. The chill of the early morning seems to deepen, pressing in on you, yet you're acutely aware of the warmth of his presence, the heat of his body just a little too close.

"I couldn't have kept you from seeing him," Namjoon continues, his tone flat, as if he's simply stating a fact.

"But keep in mind that this is a privilege—you misbehave, you won't see him." His eyes lock with yours, not with malice, but with a cold certainty that makes your heart flutter uncomfortably in your chest. The last thing you want now is to provoke him further, to find out just how far his power reaches.

"Engaged?!" disbelief and shock etched into the features of your father when you sat down at the kitchen table after you collected some of the things you wished to take with you. You nod, your heart racing.

"Yes, Dad. It just happened. I wanted you to know first." Your father's gaze shifts to Namjoon, his face a storm of emotions—anger, disbelief, worry.

"Peaches, do you know what you're doing? This man is nearly a decade older than you," he whispers your way, his voice trembling with concern.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "I know, Dad. It's a lot to take in, but Namjoon and I—we're serious about this." You never knew how good you were at lying until today. Your father's eyes narrow, his gaze flicking between you and Namjoon.

"When did this relationship even happen? Is he holding you against your will?!" he demands, his tone a mix of frustration and disbelief. Your smile freezes for a moment, and you try your best not to give yourself away.

"No, Dad, that happens only in movies," you reply, attempting a light-hearted tone to deflect his suspicion. Maybe this is what Namjoon meant by earning trust.

Your father's gaze remains hard, but he doesn't push further. Instead, he turns to Namjoon, his voice cold and edged with protectiveness. "You better take care of her, Namjoon. If anything happens to her, I won't forgive you."

Namjoon smiles proudly at you, almost missing your father's harsh words. His confidence in you seems unshaken.

"You have my word," he replies simply, and you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, staring at the shiny peachy morganite.

You were never religious enough to step foot in a church after you were christened as a baby. Your parents were indifferent to faith, more focused on the struggles of daily life than spiritual obligations. But your now husband-to-be came from very religious kin, and he himself was a God's worshipper. Ironic enough when he managed to break the Ten Commandments before sipping his morning coffee.

His family, deeply rooted in tradition and devout faith, expected nothing less than a grand celebration steeped in religious customs. The thought of walking down an aisle, flanked by stained glass and the scent of incense, felt foreign and overwhelming.

The morning sun poured into the grand church, illuminating the ornate stained glass that depicted scenes of devotion and reverence. As you and Namjoon stepped through the heavy wooden doors, a wave of warmth enveloped you, mingling with the scent of polished wood and candle wax. It felt like stepping into another world, one where faith and family intertwined seamlessly.

You could see familiar faces sitting on the wooden benches. Kim Taehyung smirking your way when he glanced at your hand interlocked with Namjoon's. He was sitting next to Mr. Jung, whom you recognized by his mullet, and the next seat was occupied by the one and only Mrs. Jung, whom you hadn't seen for a good amount of time. There were also some faces that you did not recognize, yet they still felt familiar to you. You couldn't help but notice the way the Kims and Jungs interacted, the warmth of their bonds evident in the way they smiled, laughed, and shared stories during the prayers. Their camaraderie was infectious, and for a fleeting moment, you found yourself longing for that sense of belonging.

As the service began, the congregation settled into a peaceful quiet, the sounds of rustling papers and shifting bodies fading into the background. The priest took his place at the altar, his voice echoing through the high ceilings as he began to speak about love, commitment, and the sacred bonds of marriage. Each word resonated deeply within you, pulling at your heartstrings as you thought of your impending union. As it was explained to you, this Mass was held as the announcement of your engagement—one of many traditions they had.

Namjoon sat beside you, his presence a constant reminder of the promise you had made. You could feel his gaze on you, intense and unwavering, as if he were silently urging you to embrace this new chapter of your life. But the weight of that ring on your finger felt heavier than ever in this moment.

"Love is not merely a feeling; it's a choice," the priest's voice boomed, and you glanced at Namjoon, catching the flicker of expectation in his eyes. "It's a daily commitment to one another, a promise to uphold each other through trials and triumphs alike."

You shifted in your seat, feeling the heat of his gaze on you like a physical presence. You wondered if love really was a choice—or if, in your case, it was a bargain made under duress. Namjoon's grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly, a subtle reminder of the hold he had over your life.

This was the first time he took you out of the penthouse since the day you woke up in his bed for the first time. He simply did not trust you enough to go out in public with you just yet. Hence, his hand remained on yours in a very obsessive manner, as if you were to fly away at any moment.

The priest continued, "Marriage is a sacred bond, one that should be approached with reverence and care. It's not merely about sharing a life together but about supporting and uplifting one another, about being the anchor when the storms come." He paused, letting his words sink in.

Your mind wandered back to your father, the struggles he faced, and how Namjoon had used that vulnerability to secure your loyalty. The contrast between the priest's idealistic views on love and your reality felt stark. How could you ever find true happiness in a union that felt more like a transaction than a partnership? You were feeling heavy.

"And today," the priest announced, raising his voice slightly to draw everyone's attention, "we gather not only to worship but to celebrate the union of two souls destined to walk together."

Your breath caught in your throat, and a mix of emotions surged through you. Murmurs of congratulations rippled through the congregation, and you felt the weight of countless eyes on you, some filled with excitement, others with curiosity. Namjoon's grip on your hand tightened, his eyes gleaming with pride.

You could feel your cheeks flush as the reality of your situation sank in deeper. The ring on your finger felt like a shackle, the promises made a binding contract that left little room for your own desires.

"I—" you started, but the words felt stuck in your throat. "I need to go to the restroom, Namjoon."

His expression shifted, a flicker of concern crossing his face. "Now?" he asked, voice low enough that only you could hear, but firm enough to convey his displeasure. "We're in the middle of the service."

Namjoon hesitated, weighing your request against the backdrop of the ceremony. Finally, he released your hand but leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Make it quick, baby."

You nodded, grateful for the small bit of freedom. Your Louboutin heels clicked against the marble floor, each step echoing like a drumbeat in the otherwise quiet sanctuary. The sound felt amplified in your ears, a reminder of the attention you were drawing as you navigated through the rows of wooden pews. You could feel the weight of curious gazes following you, some filled with anticipation, others with judgment. It was as if the congregation sensed the tension between you and Namjoon, the unspoken power dynamics playing out in real time.

You pushed open the restroom door and stepped inside. The fluorescent lights cast a stark glare, highlighting the contrast between the serenity of the service and the storm swirling within you.

Leaning against the sink, you took a moment to catch your breath. The reflection staring back at you was a mixture of uncertainty and defiance, a girl caught between two worlds.

"Why am I still here?" you whispered to your reflection, the question echoing back at you. You thought of the life you had envisioned for yourself, one filled with love, laughter, and independence, not one governed by fear and obligation.

"I fucked up." After a few deep breaths, you steadied yourself. You needed to return before he would throw a tantrum, as he loved to do whenever you were away from him for longer than ten minutes. Paranoid bastard. You glanced at your watch and noted that only a few minutes had passed. With a resigned sigh, you turned to leave, determination flooding your veins.

As you exited the restroom, you found Namjoon leaning against the wall outside, arms crossed and an expression that mixed concern and annoyance. His posture was protective, yet the underlying tension in his demeanor sent a shiver down your spine. He pushed himself from the wall only to walk towards you, making you take a few steps back into the restroom. His eyes never left yours even when he closed the door and locked it from inside, the sound echoing ominously in the small space.

The reality of your situation pressed down on you, an oppressive weight that made it hard to breathe. He moved closer, his eyes dark and intent.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay," he replied when you asked him why he wasn't upstairs, his tone both soothing and authoritative.

"You know how important this day is, right? I can't have you slipping away from me."

You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your composure. "I'm fine. I just needed a moment," you insisted, but the way he watched you made it clear he wasn't convinced.

"You can be honest, Peaches," he said, his voice dropping to a lower, more serious tone. "You're in a room full of people celebrating our engagement, and yet you're out here trying to escape."

His words struck a nerve, and you crossed your arms defensively. "I'm not trying to escape," you shot back, though the lie tasted bitter on your tongue.

"Okay," he said calmly, staring intensely into your eyes, as if he was trying to read you. A small smirk played at the corners of his lips, but the tension in the air remained thick. You did not expect him to drop the topic that quickly.

"I just needed to collect my thoughts," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Okay," he murmured again. He stepped closer, closing the distance between you even more, his body radiating warmth that both comforted and unsettled you. He was standing there, inches away from you, yet he was not taking any action.

"W-why are you so calm, what are you doing, Namjoon?" you asked, trying to grasp his demeanor which you yet again did not understand.

"Waiting—"

"Can we just go back to the ceremony?" you whispered, your voice barely audible. Namjoon's smirk widened, and he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear.

"Not yet, my love," he whispered back, his voice low and husky. Namjoon's fingers traced the curve of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. "I longed to show you just who you belong to for years."

"You're fucking stunning, Peaches," he murmured, his lips brushing against your earlobe. Namjoon's fingers trailed down your chest, stopping just above your breasts. You felt a jolt of electricity run through your body, and you knew that you were in trouble.

"Namjoon," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "We can't do this here, we're in a church." You tried to push him away.

"You are something I can sin for," he whispered back, his voice low and seductive. You tried to pull away, but Namjoon held you firm, his grip unyielding.

"Namjoon, please," you whispered, your voice trembling with desire and apprehension.

But Namjoon was relentless, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin that left you quivering with pleasure. "You're mine, Peaches," he murmured, his lips trailing down your neck.

"And I'll do whatever it takes to keep it that way."

Namjoon's lips found yours, and he kissed you with a passion that left you breathless. His tongue danced with yours, and you felt your body respond to his every touch. As you kissed, Namjoon's hand slid between your legs, and he began to caress you through your dress. You gasped softly, your body arching into his touch, trembling with the sudden pleasure.

"Namjoon," you whispered urgently, "we have to stop." Your breath hitched as he pressed you against the mirror after he lifted you onto the counter, plunging himself between your legs.

"No, we don't," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "Not until I've claimed you as mine."

The church's silence seemed to amplify the intensity of the moment, and you felt like you were teetering on the edge of a cliff. His fingers traced the contours of your body, exploring every curve and crevice.

"What if someone hears?" you breathed again, desperation lacing your voice.

His lips paused just above your collarbone, and you could feel the heat radiating from him. As if the universe was playing by his rules, the choir started to sing. He chuckled.

"You're mine, Peaches. I won't let anyone take you away from me—not today, not ever." He captured your lips again, his kiss deepening with a fervor that ignited every nerve ending in your body.

His hands were exploring the curves of your thighs, lifting the hem of your dress higher as he pressed you firmly against the cold surface of the counter.

"Namjoon," you breathed, a mix of excitement and fear knotting in your stomach. "We can't…" you continued your protests.

"But we will." His fingers danced dangerously close to your most sensitive spots, teasing you with the promise of pleasure. You felt your resolve begin to crumble under his touch.

"I've waited too long for this," he murmured, voice a velvet whisper that wrapped around you like a lover's embrace.

"Namjoon," you gasped against his lips, torn between the heady rush of desire and the urgent need to pull back. But with each kiss, each exploration of his hands, your inhibitions began to melt away, surrendering to the intoxicating pull he had over you.

"Just let go," he urged, a soft growl escaping his lips as he pressed his body into yours, making you acutely aware of the hard length that pressed against your core.

"Trust me."

A wild, reckless part of you craved this intimacy, this connection that felt both exhilarating and terrifying. Your mind took you back to all those moments you shared that made your heart flutter and belly tight when you did not know why he made you feel that way.

You hesitated for a heartbeat, the weight of your reality pressing heavily on your conscience. His fingers found their way beneath your dress, inching higher until they brushed against your most sensitive skin. You gasped, arching your back involuntarily as pleasure surged through you, igniting a fire in your belly.

"Namjoon!" you cried out, a mixture of pleasure and panic lacing your voice.

"Shh, baby," he whispered, his lips trailing down your neck as he continued his teasing exploration. With a deft motion, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, sliding them down your legs and tossing them aside as if they were nothing more than an afterthought. The cool air kissed your exposed skin, heightening your senses and making your breath hitch in your throat.

The air in the restroom felt thick with anticipation, each breath you took mingling with the scent of sandalwood and the faint musk of his skin.

“You’re breath-taking,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with desire.

His fingertips traced closer to where you needed him most, teasing you with the lightest of touches. You bit your lip, trying to suppress a moan that threatened to escape, the heat pooling deep within you almost overwhelming.

“Namjoon…” you whispered, half warning, half plea, torn between your desire for him and the reality of your surroundings.

“—and so wet for me.” He breathed against your skin, his breath sending sparks dancing along your nerves. His tongue danced with yours, a heated exploration that deepened your need for him. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you and the intoxicating chemistry that crackled between your bodies.

His fingers pressed against you, expertly coaxing soft moans from your lips as he slid one finger inside, filling you completely. You bit down on your lip to stifle your cries, but the pleasure was overwhelming, radiating out from the point of contact and pooling low in your stomach.

His eyes sparkled with a predatory intensity, relishing in your reaction. He watched you as if he were savouring a fine wine, taking his time to appreciate every detail of your response.

“Namjoon,” you gasped, your voice a fragile whisper, barely able to maintain any semblance of restraint.

“Oppa.” He growled. The way he said it—deep, possessive—made your heart race faster, each beat echoing in the stillness of the restroom. Namjoon’s fingers moved with a deliberate rhythm, curling inside you in a way that sent your mind spiralling.

“Tell me how good it feels,” he commanded, his tone a mix of sultry and demanding, eyes never leaving yours as he watched you unravel under his touch.

You hesitated for a moment, your breath coming in quick gasps as pleasure washed over you. “It feels… amazing,” you managed to whisper, the confession slipping past your lips like a sweet secret. You can regret this later.

“Good,” he murmured, the smirk on his face growing wider. “I want to hear every sound you make.”

His fingers moved faster, building the tension to a near unbearable level, each thrust sending you closer to the brink. The world around you faded completely, leaving just the two of you entwined in this stolen moment of passion, lost in the depths of one another.

“Namjoon. I can’t—” his hand smacked your ass and he deliberately slowed down.

“It’s oppa for you. Don’t make me repeat it again.”

The playful sting of his hand against your skin sent a rush of warmth coursing through you, mingling with the heat pooling low in your belly. His voice was firm, but beneath that authority was a hint of something deeper—a promise that ignited a wild excitement within you.

“Oppa,” you whispered breathlessly, the word slipping from your lips like a spell meant just for him.

He smiled, satisfied, and resumed his movements, fingers working expertly inside you again. The pressure built anew, the delightful tension sending electric shocks through your body.

“Good girl,” he praised, his breath hot against your ear. “I want to hear you, Peaches. Let me know how much you need me.”

With that, he quickened his pace, thrusting his fingers deeper, curling them just right. The overwhelming pleasure began to blur the edges of your consciousness, leaving only the sensations that centred on where he was buried within you. The heat intensified, building towards a sweet, dizzying peak, and you couldn’t help but surrender to it.

With a final flick of his fingers, he found that sweet spot inside you, driving you wild. Your body responded in kind, the sensations intertwining with your every thought. You could feel the tightening in your core, the unmistakable signal that you were teetering on the edge of bliss.

“Namjoon-oppa, I—” you gasped, words failing you as the pleasure escalated.

“Shh, just let it happen,” he murmured, his voice deep and soothing, anchoring you in the moment. His lips met yours in a heated kiss, swallowing your cries as the waves of ecstasy crashed over you.

"Oppa!" you cried against his mouth, unable to contain the raw need bursting forth from within. Your body trembled, the climax washing over you in a torrent of sensations, enveloping you completely as you surrendered to the bliss. The choir's distant hymns created an almost surreal backdrop to this heated encounter, mixing innocence with your burgeoning desire.

As the pleasure receded, leaving you breathless and dazed, Namjoon held you close, his arms encircling you like a protective cocoon. You leaned into him, heart racing and body tingling, reveling in the aftershocks of your release.

"See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" he teased, his voice low and playful, a wicked grin spreading across his lips. "To be mine."

Your blurry eyes lifted to look at him, taking him in while you were still panting from the rollercoaster of emotions he made you feel. Flickering down to his bulge covered by the fabric of his black suit pants from Ralph Lauren, your breath hitched again. Enough for him to move his hands to his belt, being absolutely ready to take you. Finally free of his belt, he pulled down his zipper. The fabric of his pants fell open, revealing the outline of his desire, bold and unmistakable.

The urgency of the moment wrapped around you like a tight embrace, making it hard to think straight. You glanced around, the restroom feeling impossibly small, every sound amplified.

"Oppa, please…" you breathed, your heart racing as you tried to pull away, but the undeniable hunger in his gaze anchored you in place. You could see the determination etched on his face, the way his jaw tightened with lust. He had a plan, and it made your pulse quicken. You were not sure what you were begging for—to stop or to continue?

If not for the soft knock on the door, he would have taken you right there, on the church's restroom counter. It jolted you both, pulling you back to the reality of your surroundings. A rush of panic surged through you, and you instinctively glanced around the cramped restroom, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Oppa," you whispered again, this time a plea laced with desire and uncertainty.

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Just a little longer," he promised, his fingers finding their way back to your thighs, gripping you tightly as if to keep you anchored to the moment.

"Just one more time," he urged, his voice thick with need. "I need to feel you—"

"Hyung, I know you will kill me for this, but you need to come back upstairs." The voice—familiar and insistent—cut through the haze of desire that had enveloped you both.

Namjoon's expression flickered from lust to annoyance, his grip on you tightening slightly as if to remind you that this moment was still theirs, even if the world outside was intruding.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, his frustration palpable. The intensity in his gaze shifted, but it didn't fade. Instead, it turned into something more predatory, a simmering heat that promised this wasn't over.

"We'll be right there!" He shouted back to the voice behind the door. His eyes slowly returned to watch you and your disheveled form after he fingered the fuck out of you.

He leaned in, his lips capturing yours once more, and it felt like time stood still. The world around you blurred, and for that moment, it was just the two of you—lost in a whirlwind of passion that defied the reality waiting outside the door.

His forehead remained pressed on yours when he whispered to your lips. “Next time, we won’t be so rushed, I promise.” Pecking your lips, he quickly pulled his pants back up, securing his belt with a swift motion, yet the heat of the moment lingered between you both.

The calm shattered in an instant.

The heavy church door burst open with a deafening crash. Armed men in tactical gear stormed in with raised weapons, their shouts filling the air. Namjoon immediately pushed you behind him, his eyes scanning the chaotic scene with deadly focus.

The thunderous crack of gunfire echoed off the stone walls as the air filled with the acrid smell of gunpowder. Namjoon drew a gun from beneath his jacket—like several other family men in attendance—his movements swift and practiced. He returned fire, the muzzle flash illuminating his determined face in bursts of light.

Your heart pounded in your chest like a drum of terror and adrenaline. Huddled behind an overturned pew, you clutched your ears against the deafening noise, eyes wide with shock and fear. Namjoon, breathing heavily, scanned the room one final time before turning to you, his eyes softening for a moment.

"Stay down!" he shouted, his voice barely audible above the chaos.

"Jungkook, get them out!" Namjoon barked, his eyes fixed on the fight.

He reached your side, pulling you up by the arm. Jungkook's grip was firm yet reassuring.

"Come on," he urged, his voice a steady anchor amid the storm of violence. He led you through the chaos, his body shielding you from the worst of the gunfire.

Just as you neared the side door, a sharp pain exploded in your side. You stumbled, a cry of agony escaping your lips. The world seemed to slow, the sounds of battle muffled by the roaring in your ears. Looking down, you saw blood spreading across your dress, the pain intensifying with each heartbeat.

"Peaches!"

𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝

©pennyellee. please do not repost

tag list: @hecateslittlewitchling - @ratprincessnr1 - @originalbiscuitfiredreamer - @mggv97 - @urlovelily - @ilys00ga - @beautifulcloudfestival - @herareila @mar-lo-pap

Don't be a silent reader, let's be friends chummers! ♥

see you next time, love, p.

907 notes View Post

maboiisuga

8 months ago

polarity | 06 yandere! jungkook

pairing: yandere!jungkook x (f) reader

genre: yandere

warnings: 18+ , toxic relationships, unhealthy and obsessive behavior , mentions of mental health, manipulation, blackmail, cheating

word count: 21.k

summary: Your best friend’s new boyfriend becomes infatuated with you..

Playlist

Parts: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06

❄️CS | 03 JK

A/N: im delirious after editing this so if you see any error , please pretend you didn’t 🥴💕💕!!! ily <3

—-

The anticipating silence filled the room as you stared down the familiar face in front of you. You could hear a ringing in your ears, the anger in your body simmering down and being replaced with sheer panic. Suddenly your mind was now moving rapidly through every possible reason as to why Hoseok could be here. Had your text messages been read? Had there been a slip up on your part? Had you mentioned him to Jungkook? What did he know? How did he know? Did they know each other? Your feet shifted to the side and you took a step back.

For a moment it felt as if this was some sort of soap opera playing out in front of you and you were just a pathetic puppet being wired by her master. Jungkook was the deranged puppeteer in this circus and you were the biggest fool of them all.

You inched forward, instinctively wanting to tell Hoseok to get away from him. Just the thought of him near Jungkook made you nervous. Let alone watching him being sat so comfortably in his apartment.

“What are you doing here?” You asked in a breathless whisper, the clear shock evident on your entire physique.

Hoseok’s eyes shifted between you and Jungkook, tensing up at your question. He seemed not only confused but upset. Your eyes didn’t miss the soju bottle next to him. The sight left you even more than perplexed . Why was Jungkook seemingly having a casual drink with the same boy he had threatened before? How had he managed to lure him into the apartment in the first place? How was he here? The worst of thoughts began to emerge in your head.

“That’s a little rude, isn’t it?” Jungkook feigned innocence, leaning in to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear like he often did in endearment. However, in this particular moment nothing about it felt sweet or endearing. “Considering you’re the one who invited him over.”

What?

Your face scrunched up in complete astonishment. You slapped his hand away and put more space between the two of you.

“What are you talking about? I didn’t invite anyone.” Your voice wentup in pitch towards the end. “What’s going on?”

You look between the both of them, they shared a swift knowing glance at each other before Jungkook locked his gaze onto you again.

What was that?

Something was so off. Not only were you terribly confused but it felt familiar almost, terribly familiar. It didn’t feel as if you had walked in on a clear betrayal. It felt as if you had walked into some sick kind of inside joke. A set up meant to leave you in the dark. It didn’t felt like you were the one that deserved an explanation.

But you noticed one thing. Jungkook’s prying eyes poorly concealed something else in them. Seething jealousy. A shudder left you as you braced for what he was going to do. You’ve messed up horribly.

You felt Hoseok’s eyes on you now too, his expression changing into a frown as he studied you.

“I told you,” Jungkook spoke, his dark eyes didn’t stray from you but he was clearly addressing the other man in the room. “She was playing you.”

You snap your head back at Hoseok in shock at the words coming out of Jungkook’s mouth. You weren’t expecting them but they helped confirm your suspicions. The puzzle pieces were still scattered but you slowly began to watch them fit together as you took in everything in front of you.

This couldn’t be happening.

“What the hell are you talking about!” You shrieked out but immediately took a deep breath, feeling yourself start to lose control of the emotions overwhelming you. A need to reel yourself back in took over, a part of you afraid of triggering another panic attack that you couldn’t handle at the moment. You flared your arms up as you neared towards Hoseok who looked more upset by the second.

“You texted me.” Hoseok stated shaking his head at you. “You sent me this location and told me to come over, that you were ‘really needed me right now’.”

You stare at him, freezing in your steps as you rapidly shake your head in denial. What was he talking about? Had Jungkook taken your phone somehow without your knowledge? But how? He hadn’t asked you to unlock your phone the other day. You hadn’t texted Hoseok since yesterday, vaguely giving him a run down of your day. In fact, you had been texting him far less these days as you were determined to still let him down gently. You figured it was working. Which is why you couldn’t believe your eyes at him being here. You would never tell him to meet you anywhere. Not with Jungkook’s inquisitive nature that you had barely escaped earlier. Let alone lead him right into a lion’s den.

“No, no.” You explained, pointing towards Jungkook. “He must’ve contacted you somehow, I never texted you! I don’t understand what the fuck is going on but I never texted you that!”

This was ridiculous. You gripped your bag and slung it off your shoulder. You began to search for your phone, eagerly needing to provide proof of this insane claim but Hoseok continued his accusation.

“You told me you broke up with him yet you led me directly to your very much still boyfriend’s place.” He continued you with a scoff. “The text came from your contact. What the hell are you doing? Why lie about something like that? Is this a sick game or some shit?”

The text came from you.

That was literally impossible. Jungkook didn’t know your passcode.

Did he?

Even if he did, you would’ve noticed he went through it. Wouldn’t you? You didn’t recall leaving your phone unattended. Or did you? The days here didn’t even feel real, you were struggling to recall much of anything right now. But most of all, you didn’t like the guilt you felt at the thought of Jungkook going through your phone. You should be angry and you were but another part of you also felt ashamed. It felt exactly like what you had felt that morning he confronted you about your phone and how you had thought you fooled him successfully for once.

The walls were closing in on you as you finally found your phone. Your fingers shook while tapping against the screen.

“She lied.” Jungkook chimed in. From the corner of your eye you could see him still observing you as he walked right over to the island. “She does this whenever we have a fight, she just wants attention.”

No.

You swallowed, your eyes stinging with newfound tears as you opened your texts, easily finding Hoseok’s contact that you placed under a girl’s name. Your closed your eyes tightly, letting out a silent curse. You were right there was no texts of you sending a message to meet up, your screen just showed the many texts of you casually talking and politely declining to meet up with him. But it was then you realized your mistake.

These messages didn’t rid you of any guilt. They only dug your grave further.

You had been deceptive. Not with malicious intent but you had been nonetheless. You had lied to not only Hoseok, but to Jungkook.The latter unsurprisingly filled you with much more dread. No matter which way you looked at it, this looked exactly how he intended it to look like. The story of an unfaithful lover that had been caught red handed with another man by her husband.

Jungkook fit the part with ease with the way his demeanor promised silence before the storm. The forced coolness in his tone was hiding a beast beneath it. You suppose you fit the part too by how dry your mouth had gotten. You found yourself suddenly not wanting to meet his scrutinizing gaze. You went behind his back, didn’t you? You lay in his bed every night, ate his food, enjoyed his luxurious and in return you sneak around. Did you not deserve his wrath? Perhaps you deserved much more.

Another skipped heartbeat.

What was wrong with you? The rational side of you was slipping away little by little. It knew well that this wasn’t your fault but your feelings were fighting strongly against all rationality. If it wasn’t your fault then why were you hesitating to show them your phone? If you were so innocent then why did you feel so dirty? You gripped your phone painfully tight officially panicking as you delayed to turn it over like you were so eagerly planning on doing a moment ago. How could you be so idiotic? Why didn’t you delete these texts? Why didn’t you block him all together? You’ve not only screwed yourself over but you’ve taken Hoseok down with you.

Jungkook seemed to notice your struggle, his mask slightly slipping.

“ What’s the matter, baby?” The corner of his mouth quirked up slightly. “Show your proof.”

He practically spit out the last word, twisted amusement taking over his gaze. You felt your lips tremble as you tried your hardest to swallow down a sob.

“Jungkook.” You pleaded with wide eyes. “Please, why are you doing this?”

His expression sharpened at that. Instead of taking pity in you, like you foolishly assumed he might, he glared daggers at you. His weakness seemed to be seeing you break and seeing you break down in tears. As sick as it was he did once tell you he hated to see you cry and you cling to that slither of hope that would appeal to his more softhearted side. But of course you should’ve known better than to trust you had Jungkook figured out in the slightest.

“Me?” He asked you incredulously, his mask fully falling now as you saw his eyes flash with a familiar type of hurt you had seen in them before. The same type of hurt when you had yelled at him that you would never love him. You took yet another cautious step back, surprised at how much the look seemed to leave you completely chilled this time. You didn’t remember feeling this breathless last time you had caused it.

“How do you have the audacity to say that to me.” He sneered at you and one stride towards you had him closing most of the space you’d been creating between you. “How about you turn over the phone screen and show me how much you’ve been lying to my face?”

Another step.

“How about you tell me exactly where you’ve been all day.”

Another skipped heartbeat.

He knew where’d you been.

“No.” You continued to shake your head and turned your frantic gaze towards the other poor man in the room.

“Hoseok, you need to listen to me. This isn’t what it looks like, he’s doing this on purpose to-"

Jungkook’s cruel laugh cut you off, he ran a hand through his dark locks in disbelief. You watched in horror as he played the betrayed boyfriend role so convincingly because he genuinely did feel like you betrayed him. You felt your chest ache at the sight. Why did it ache? Why did it hurt to see him like this? Not only had you not even sent that message to Hoseok but you didn’t owe Jungkook any sense of loyalty. You didn’t owe him anything.

But the broken look in the large doe eyes that you had spent every night looking into since you got here made you feel like you owed him the world. You saw the corner of his lip twitch as he tried to blink away his glossy stare.

“It’s exactly what it looks like.” Jungkook stated with determination. So sure of himself. He tilted his head to the side, turning to Hoseok. “Did you know what she had just finished doing just before she received your adorable first text?”

You stiffen at his implication and at the way he comes up behind you. His breath tickles your ear as his fingers come to brush your hair out of your face and wraps his other arm around your waist. You let out a small gasp. The hand on your hair slowly runs down the back of your neck and inner shoulder. The cold sensation of his rings making you involuntarily shiver.

“Or rather who she was doing.” Before you can react, he pulls you further into him and places a kiss on the top of your head. “You have no idea how pretty she looks on top of me.”

Your jaw hung at his awful crude words and you harshly pull yourself away from him, quickly putting back the previous distance in between you. Your face felt like it was on fire. You had nearly forgotten the undeniable mean streak Jungkook possessed. It had been easy to pretend it had never existed with how sweetly he had treated you all this time you’ve shared his space and his bed. How quickly had you forgotten the many sides of him, the ugly sides that came out when things didn’t go his way and when his doll had overstepped her restraints.

But it was obvious that this was more than Jungkook being cruel, he was making a point. Staking his claim.

“Stop it! What’s wrong with you?” You didn’t need to even look towards Hoseok’s direction to know how incredibly uncomfortable he was. It was clear in the way he cleared his throat and went to stand up.

“There wasn’t a need for all of this, I would’ve never asked you out if I’d known you two had just been on some kind of break.”

“We never broke up, she just loves making me jealous whenever we have ….disagreements.” Jungkook replied for you with a smirk spreading on his lips that reminded you of a devious child.

You were breathing heavily now, struggling to ground yourself as you felt the awful dread start traveling through you once again. It was triggered and you couldn’t do anything to stop it now. You had mere seconds left before your mind was burdened by sheer panic.

“She was just using you, unfortunately you were the perfect bait.” Jungkook raised an eyebrow at you. You watched nervously as he walked back over to the counter and leaned on it, directly facing Hoseok. You could practically hear his grin. “You need to realize how girls work, you seem a bit inexperienced .“

Your phone dropped with a loud ‘clank’ but the two men didn’t seem to even notice it. It may have looked like you simply threw it to onto the floor in rage but your hands hand not stopped shaking. You felt the hideous need to run your nails down your arms and face . It was taking great effort not to do so, you opted for running them down frantically through your hair instead. He was turning the tables completely and successfully. He was playing this off as a typical unsteady relationship where he made you look like the dramatic girlfriend who was simply acting out when there was trouble in paradise.

Hoseok let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head as he stood up from his seat. He seemed to be completely over it.

“Whatever, you need to tell your crazy girlfrie-"

“You need to learn to take threats more seriously. I told you to stay away from her .” You heard Jungkook cut him off with now a much less neutral tone. All casualness gone. You didn’t need to look at him to know why the air seemed heavier now, you wanted to tell Hoseok to be quiet and not poke him further but you could barely focus your spiraling mind on anything other than the feeling of your chest tightening.

“Listen, I didn’t think it was all that serious. She never actually told me she had a boyfriend. You can’t blame me for not knowing right?” There was a slight defensiveness to how Hoseok said it and you couldn’t help but feel bad. He’d been blindsided completely. When he spared a glance at you his face scrunched up in seeming concern at your worsening state of panic.

“Right.” Jungkook nodded. His grin still present but it faltered a little when he noticed Hoseok’s gaze on you.

“Hoseok, please listen to me. I-I did lie but it wasn’t because of what he’s saying. I wasn’t playing with you. At first I was trying to-” A frustrated sigh left you as you tried to figure out how to explain yourself. You couldn’t tell him the complete truth, not in front of Jungkook. His menacing blackmail still hovered over you like your own personal grey cloud.

“To let you down easily.” You cringed at your confession. It sounded much worse saying it out loud and you saw Jungkook raising both his eyebrows in mocking manner. You glared at the realization that hit you.

He knew you wouldn’t able to explain yourself. That’s why he brought Hoseok here. He wanted to see you cower and admit your mistake in front of him with no way out. Perhaps he even knew he’d trigger your anxiety by doing so. He’s managed to gather every key that unlocked your weaknesses.

Hoseok clenched his jaw, his lips set in a straight line. He looked like he couldn’t wait to sprint out the door. You knew you’d find no help in him or hope he’d see through Jungkook’s manipulation anymore. Now he was convinced you’ve dragged him into some unnecessary relationship drama.

“How considerate of you, baby.” Jungkook continued his taunting but you heard his true displeasure beneath it. He turned his attention back to Hoseok and circled the other side of the island where he sat.

The apartment was starting to feel much smaller than you recalled.

“So now that we cleared that up and there’s no room for pesky excuses . I would very much like you to stay the fuck out of my relationship. “

You flinched at the venom in his tone. The rage he’d been burying coming to the surface and poured itself all over the last sentence.

Seeing just how close Jungkook had gotten to him wasn’t helping your growing panic. He was taller than Hoseok but that wasn’t what was intimidating about him. It was his entire demeanor sending off such drastic mixed signals .There was nothing worse than not knowing how to predict an opponent in the slightest.

Jungkook placed a rough hand on Hoseok’s shoulder.

You swore your heart stopped.

“And I suggest you start by blocking my girlfriend’s number from your phone and forget she ever existed to you.” He leaned into Hoseok’s ear, his eyes tracing back to you as that mean lazy smile remained on his lips. From the outside it seemed like the typical comrade bro hug, almost friendly in manner. Two good-looking college boys sharing some type of gossip.

“I’d hate to show you what a name like mine can do to a nobody like you.” If he had meant to whisper it then he failed terribly because you had heard his threat perfectly. “Money talks a lot around here, I’m sure you know that. I could make you lose everything you’ve worked for or come very close to it. You won’t get a second warning.”

There was a few seconds of silence. Or minutes. You really couldn’t tell.

“I get it, I swear I don’t want any problems.” Hoseok replied sounding more peeved than shaken by your insane ‘boyfriend’s’ words. He probably assumed he was just another entitled rich boy who was throwing around empty threats because his ego was hurt.

He’d be half right but there was a lot more wrong with Jungkook than his spoilt attitude and those threats were not as empty as he thought.

Jungkook stared at him for a long moment, whether to take in his words or perhaps looking for an indication of a lie you weren’t sure but once he seemed satisfied he gave him a slow nod.

“Good.” He finally took a step away from him and grabbed the soju bottle next to him, shoving it into Hoseok’s chest. “Need me to call for an Uber? I heard bus fares are quite high nowadays.”

Hoseok’s face flushed but you were certain it wasn’t due to the alcohol.

“I can walk.” He grumbled as he began to walk towards the front door.

“Suit yourself.” Jungkook flashed him another smile, this time displaying his perfect teeth. It was an uncanny sight.

You hated yourself for not even managing to get a another word out, too engrossed in your own doomsday. The fleeing sensation of humiliation didn’t have room to properly settle, overridden by much more powerful emotions that never shared their home in your tortured mind. The nails were now starting to dig into your arms, you barely felt Hoseok walk past but you for sure didn’t miss l the last nasty glance he sent your way before the sound of the door slamming shut echoed through the room.

An immediate sob left your lips, your knees slowly gave out and you let yourself fall against the cold ceramic tiles. You lifted your head up slightly, watching the man in front of you with tears pooling your vision. He had never not been quick to comfort you during your attacks but this time he simply stood there with no intention of running to comfort you. Instead he let out a sigh, his eyes remained on the door with an odd look on his face. For a moment, it seemed like he was holding back a sob himself. His eyes shifting to the corner of the room before over to you. He bit his bottom lip harshly as he ran a hand over his face.

“Why the tears baby? You caused this.” He muffled into his own hands, turning his back to you. You watched his long legs paced back and forth between the small space of where you lay. Watching him run his fingers run over his now messy hair.

You continued to sob quietly, breaths growing more shallow. How could he say that to you? You had caused this?

“Get up. We need to get you into a cold shower if you want to feel better.” You heard him order as he struggled to contain a steady tone. He turned around, placing a hand on the marble counter and leaning his weight on it causing his muscles to flex underneath his thin t-shirt. His bottom lip was now swollen and red. Eyes puffy and distraught.

It was so unfair. All of it.

“You hacked my phone, didn’t you? Because I didn’t send that text to Hoseok and how else would you have known….where I was.” You muttered the last part mostly to yourself, the idea becoming more of a fact than a theory. You had assumed he had simply followed you but if he had gone as far as hacking your phone then he surely would’ve used it to track your location.

There was no way he had followed you either, the timing wouldn’t have made much sense and you were certain you would’ve spotted his car at some point considering how careful you had been the entire commute there.

You jump suddenly at the sound of his hand slamming down harshly on the counter.

“No shit.” Jungkook spit out and you draw back. The abrupt action caught you off guard. You had never witnessed him physically express his anger before.

“Now.get.up.” He repeated. “I can’t help you if you’re sobbing on the floor.”

“I don’t want anything from you!” You shouted back, sending him the most hateful look you could muster. He blinked, eyebrows furrowing as still he refused to look your way but you swore you saw a flash of regret on his face.

He took a deep breath and regained most of his composure. His jaw clenched.

“What did you expect? Did you really think I wouldn’t find out? There will be no secrets between us. I won’t allow it.”

Well, wasn’t that just rich coming from him.

“No secrets? I-I know what you did.” You accused in between sobs, your hands planted firmly on the floor as you shifted your body weight towards your right leg that left you in an awkward sitting position. It was hard to ignore the chills running down your entire body, your mind struggled to focus on what you wanted to scream at him.

He turned his head to look down at you. His penetrating gaze meeting yours at last.

“I know that you were the one that made my professor accuse me of plagiarism.” You said after another intake of breath. “ You did it, didn’t you? You blackmailed him! Just like you did to me. Just like you do to everyone in order to get your way. I don’t know with what but you did.”

He was silent. Just quietly looking at you.

Your short breaths only quickened, the horrible feeling coming in waves, stopping then gaining more force. You felt like you were stuck in a mid fall. It felt like years passed before Jungkook slowly made his way over to you, your eyes traced over the slight twitch of his fingers and cubic steel bracelet around his wrist. He bent down to your level and you felt his fingers lifting your chin up at him. You knew he could feel you shaking because he angled your face towards him again when you tried to look off to the side, his set gaze halting your rapid eye movements.

“Seems like a little birdie has been talking.” He whispered to you, he almost sounded disappointed. “That just won’t do, baby.”

You felt the sudden urge to slap him but you went to push him away instead. He caught your arms before you could do so, pushing them towards his chest and pulling your whole body closer to him. His actions were rough and careless. An indicator of just how much you’ve pissed him off this time. You could feel your teeth chattering now, your panic attack reaching its peak as you felt your vision blur. It was as if someone had poured a bucket of ice all over you except you wished someone actually had just to rid you of this feeling.

“You know she’s right, you know I’m right. That’s why you’re so upset.” You went on as you squirmed in his hold.

“How easily you’ve forgotten what she’s done to you. Is it that easy to fool you, baby? Does that bitch really have such a tight hold on you still that you that you accept her words as truth without question?” He sounded a parent scolding a small foolish child over taking sweets from a stranger.

He was wrong. Your once all-consuming love for Eunji had turned into a grudge that you couldn’t shake off. She might’ve been a horrible friend but why would she lie about something like that? It seemed too specific. It seemed like she knew more than she was willing to admit and for some reason that only angered you more. She knew more yet she had given you crumbs in return. Was that the plan all along or was she making you a victim of her selfish bitterness again? Even after everything, it was hard for you to believe she hated you that much.

Because you had seen it. You had seen a fragment of sincerity in her eyes earlier. A small piece of pity, no matter how fleeing.

“Ask your little boyfriend what he was doing walking into Professor Clark’s classroom a few weeks ago.”

You swore you had heard it in her voice too. As if she had been doing you one last favor. Granting you one last bit of kindness for all those years spent together being thrown away. But the more you ponder over it, the more Jungkook’s planted seed of doubt began to grow its roots. Had you only seen what you had hoped to?

“You accuse me of lying to you over some gossip your little fake friend filled your head with? It didn’t take long for you to go running back into her arms, did it? Where is your pride?” The disgust in his voice would be hard to fake and you had to look away from the sheer sincerity in it.

“I didn’t run back to her! I wanted answers and-"

“And did you find them?” He cut you off, eyes searching your face like something in it had already granted him the answer. “No, of course you didn’t baby. You let her have the last laugh again.”

Again

“How would she know to make that connection and why would she lie about her seeing you walk into our professor’s classroom weeks ago.” You hissed back at him eagerly grasping to take control of the conversation that he had so easily overpowered in seconds.

God, you really couldn’t breathe.

“Do you hear yourself? You’re asking me why a girl that has been jealous and spiteful towards you for years would try and scheme against you for sleeping with her ex-boyfriend! ” Jungkook sneered back and you flinched at the sudden raise of volume in his voice.

“Lying comes as easily as breathing to some. Haven’t you learned that by now? You really are more naive than I thought if you have yet to realize how unkind this world is and how often people like you get trampled over.”

You let out another quivering sob, growing more and more upset by his words. You might be naive but you weren’t that naive to not realize that he wasn’t the one who should be saying this to you. Him of all people. It felt like a stab in the chest. Jungkook lets go of your arms and brings them to cradle your face in his hands instead. His thumbs wiping away your never ending tears. His action is meant to be gentle but his grip is so tight that you feel his nails digging slightly into your skin.

“I’ve only ever tried to protect you, baby. Protect you from her and from yourself.” His hot breath sent waves of shock through you, you felt his lips lightly graze your own. “How many times must I save you from her? And from everyone who has ill intentions towards you before you realize it’s only ever going to be me.”

He lifted one hand from your cheek to carress your hair, those glossy doe eyes pulling you in and tugging at the invisible strings on your limbs and heart.

“How many times must I prove my love to you?”

This wasn’t love. It couldn’t be.

It felt like something much stronger. Much too different. Your love for Eunji had never felt this overwhelming. It never felt like you were being lulled to a perfect sleep, just to be suddenly plunged into a free fall. This didn’t feel anything like a secret held close to your chest, your heart skipping a beat everytime you used to see her even when you’d already seen her three times before that day. How giddy you felt at her accidental touches. How much you seemed to please her and never wanted to see her in pain. How easily it came to you to want to fix all her minor inconveniences.

No, this felt nothing like that. It wasn’t a secret. It didn’t allow itself to be. It was too loud. Too ugly. Whatever you had felt for Eunji, it felt five times more heightened with Jungkook. His presence felt like too much yet like there was never enough of it to actually violate you. It fit you in a way you were so frightened to admit. He had taken a piece of you that you never agreed on giving him. Yet it was that very foreign feeling that had you craving him in moments you shouldn’t have. In nearly all hours of a day. You were frightened at what you had been feeling these past two weeks sharing his space. Completely terrified at what he had managed to make you feel for him in such little time.

Even now, he felt so familiar yet so untouchable.

“This isn’t love.” You replied back in a broken whisper. It was mistake and you realized it quickly but it was too late to take it back. You blamed your overly emotional state for the thoughtless response.

A few beats of silence passed with only your uneven breaths filling the room. Jungkook continued to caress your hair before the corners of his lips twitched. An almost sad small appearing on them.

“Fine.” Another few beats of silence. The heavy air lingered.

You licked your dry lips as he retrieved his hand completely from you. Your eyes tracked the movement before they landed on the unreadable look on his face.

“ If you think I’m such a monster, I promise I will show you how easily I can make that come true for you. ” He stated lowly, dark eyes taking in your features again. “And it will make everything else I’ve done pale in comparison.”

His words sink in.

You hadn’t wanted that all and you don’t think you’ve ever heard him sound so disturbed. It rattled you to the core. You jumped forward to try and salvage what was left of the ruin you may have caused yourself and others.

“Jungkook n-no. I don’t want that. I don’t think that of you.” Breathlessly you pleaded with him. Not even a minute ago you wanted to rid yourself of his touch on you and now you were bringing your own hands to his face. The roles reversing with haste.

“But you just said it, baby. You don’t think this is love.” His sharp look was not budging. “What choice do you leave me if you won’t even believe my feelings for you after everything I’ve done? I’ll have to make you see it, one way or another.”

One way or another. That could mean so many things for someone like him and you didn’t want to find out which method he’d try out first.

“I-I do believe them. I don’t know why I said that.”

“Don’t lie to me.” He said with a disillusioned look and clasped your wrists. “For the third time tonight.”

Your fingers run down his cheeks as you as you near your face to his again.

“I’m not! I’m sorry. I’m sorry but please don’t do anything. I’m begging you, please.” It was pathetic . You were pathetic but you suppose you had already lost your dignity a long time ago. There wasn’t much else to lose and you weren’t sure you’d ever manage to have a spine when it came to the boy in front of you.

He eyed you.

“What it is it that you’re so afraid I’ll do?” He muttered, his breath once again warm against your lips.

You frowned. It was a trick question, wasn’t it? Was he genuinely asking you?

“I just don’t want you to hurt anyone.” You stressed, your fingers trembled terribly against his cheeks.

You felt his thumbs brushing the inside of your wrists in a circular motion gently. The soft action wasn’t to fully soothe you but it did distract you for split second.

“Anyone?” Jungkook asked lowly. It stumped you a bit. You tried to find some clarity in his fixed look but it didn’t display much of anything. In fact, you swore his eyes were inviting you to some sort of challenge.

So you simply nodded in response.

“Hm.” He hummed, his upper lip lifting slightly before he nodded back.

Was he agreeing with you?

You let out the smallest sigh of relief. It probably looked pained.

His hands then fully clasped your wrists and he stood up without warning. The force of it dragged you up with him due to his locked grip. He tugged you against him as he made his way down the hallway. You kept quiet, already starting to feel your body weight itself down like it usually did when your panic attack lost its strength. The numbness traveled through your every muscle. Jungkook had released your wrists and instead guided you by the shoulder with your body remaining pressed into his chest.

He opened the bedroom door and guided you towards the bathroom. The unease in your stomach had not left but it was easier to ignore with how heavy your eyelids felt. You felt him suddenly leave your side and brush past you to go turn on the shower. You caught a glimpse of yourself on the large mirror above the black vanity sink . The teary gaze and snot dripping from your nose. Your wet cheeks and swollen eyes. Your gaze accidentally caught sight of Jungkook while he slid open the shower door. His stare was hollow.

A look you don’t remember ever seeing on him before.

You looked away, unsure of what to make of it. When he approached you again, you didn’t protest as he stripped you both down. Once in the shower, you kept your back to him and fully faced the shower head that washed away any lingering nerves. You couldn’t help but zoom in on the ombré ceramic tile design in front of you as your mind drifted off again. Jungkook’s hands massaged your shoulders gently as he ran the loofa down your back. The act was intimate and normal. But your thoughts didn’t let you rest for the remainder of the night. Not even when you were both in bed, tucked under the soft warm sheets. Not even when he cuddled beside you, rubbing your back continuously and you listened his steady breathing.

The normalcy of it all didn’t break your trance because you were still thinking of the look Jungkook had given you. The daring glint in his eyes masking the seething nature. The vacant look you caught of him in the mirror.

Something wasn’t right.

—

It was ache in your shoulders that woke you.The soft gel pillow underneath your cheek felt wet and you inwardly cursed and wiped your mouth.You thought you had dropped drooling months ago. You had yet to open your eyes, wanting to stay this oblivious and at peace before a certain reality hit you. It took a few seconds for the disorientation to fade away as you slowly blinked up at the familiar white ceiling with the recessed lighting now completely shut off due to the natural sunlight illuminating the space.

You lifted your head and let out a soft groan at the stiffness in your muscles.

It was quiet.

The memories of last night came flooding back in rapidly and your stomach churned at them. You pushed them away as much as you could. If only it had been a nightmare. How much you wished it had never happened and how much you wished you hadn’t walked out the door yesterday. At this point, you weren’t sure if you cared about if what Eunji had said was true or not. If anything, it had left you even more puzzled about everything. Both of them had played you in one way or another. It seemed like they were taking turns, tugging on each of your arms in complete opposite directions.

You craned your neck and looked around the empty room. Jungkook wasn’t in bed but he usually wasn’t, he had made it a habit to cook breakfast before you woke.

Flinging your feet to the side , you climbed off the bed and made your way out the door and into the hallway. You could smell coffee and hear shuffling. When you made into the living room you came to a halt upon seeing Jungkook in the kitchen like you expected. He seemed to be chopping something on the cutting board, a tomato maybe.

“Morning, baby.” He greeted you with a warm smile when he noticed you. He was dressed in casual pajama pants with an oversized black t-shirt. His hair was messy, clearly he’d not bothered to touch it yet but it made him look more endearing.

“Morning.” You reply with a small smile of your own despite the shake in your voice. He was acting like nothing had happened and you didn’t know if you should feel immense relief at that or not. It didn’t feel natural but you could very well be making something out of nothing. As you approach him though, your eyeline shifts to the floor and instantly a realization hits you.

Your eyebrows knit together as your eyes search the ground and walk towards the same spot you were last night.

“What it is it?” Jungkook asks when you fail to find what you’re looking for. You glance up at him, his curious gaze had followed yours to the floor.

“M-My phone. I dropped it last night. Did you see it?”

“Oh that.” He returns to pouring orange juice into a glass, the eggs on the stove sizzling behind him. “ I have it.”

You blink in confusion but try to conceal it.

“Oh.” You swallow. “Can you give it to me?”

Jungkook meets your gaze and slides over the glass of orange juice to you. You thank him quietly before taking a seat on the tall stool of the island.

“And why would I do that?” Your in the midst of taking a sip of the juice when he says it so you snort a little into the glass, assuming he’s joking for a split second.

But you notice the raise of his eyebrow, eyeing your movements as he awaits your response.

Tensing, you put the glass down and frown.

“Um,” You don’t even know what to say. “Well, because I need it.”

It came out more so like a question when you had intended it to sound like a firm reply. Jungkook notices your poor attempt as well, a smirk threatening to spread his lips.

“For what? To text another library boy?” He placed both his hands on the counter, leaning foward. He wasn’t that close but you fought the urge to lean back. His eyes narrowed into slits as bit the inside of his cheek.

His words make your mouth dry despite the juice you had just taken a sip of. Apparently the disturbed thoughts that had haunted you all night might’ve had some validity.

Yet this didn’t shock you any less.

But what did you think was going to happen? You had ignored all the warnings. Jungkook’s jealous side was something you never wanted to witness again and you had feeling you were only scratching the surface.

“Jungkook, I didn’t do anything. I was only trying to let him off easily. I-I wasn’t looking for anything else. I already explained this last night . I felt bad for what you had threatened him with when we weren’t even together.” It wasn’t a lie but you knew it didn’t matter by the way his expression didn’t budge one bit. Whatever innocent crush you had felt for Hoseok was long gone. Not only due to the sheer embarrassment that had occurred that no doubt had left him with the worst impression of you but you were not willing to put him in Jungkook’s radar again. You deeply regretted ever texting him at all.

It was too late to try to explain anything to Hoseok anyway. Even if you ever got him alone again you were sure he’d run the opposite direction at just your mere sight. He probably thought you were crazy.

This was crazy.

“I’m confused.” Jungkook’s scrutinizing gaze trapped you in place. “You said you didn’t want me to hurt anyone.”

“I-what?”

“You said you didn’t want me to hurt anyone.” He repeats lowly.

“I-I don’t-”

“Good. And I won’t as long as you stay in line.” He shrugs as if he’s discussing the weather and not the confiscation of your phone.

“But I need my phone, I need to text my parents.”

“I already did. They’re fine.” He gives you a tight-lipped smile but you could see how much he was trying to control the rage that traveled through him. The tightness of his grip on the edges of his counter, the veins on his hands and arms popping out slightly.

“Those petty excuses won’t work on me. You can only blame yourself as to why I don’t trust you anymore baby.” His eyes trailed down you. “Did you really think I’d be okay with you texting other men or anyone who shows interest in you for that matter?”

You looked away from him.

“No! That’s not what it was like.” You sputtered, feeling that sense of guilt invade you once again.

You heard him scoff.

“Have I been too nice, baby? I have, haven’t I? Because I don’t know what gave the impression that you could ever run back to that bitch or flirt with others to ‘let them down easy’ and think I would sit back and watch like your little lap dog.”

You watched his controlled breathing, afraid to make the slightest move that could set him off.

Deciding not to reply , you simply watched him and hoped he’d gather himself but your silence seemed to only edge him further because he pulled a hand away from the counter and reached over to take your glass away. You saw him twirl it around in his hand, your gaze fully lifting to meet his due to the unexpected action and he glared at you as he took a sip from it.

“Did you know he had a sister? Your little library boy.” He clarifies as he swallows, setting the glass back down. “She just got married. Would be a shame if a pair of newly weds suffered an unfortunate accident…or any other type of terrible luck.”

You were completely floored by his words. A full body chill running through you. You wished you had heard him wrong but the way he studied you expectedly made it all too real.

Were you that surprised though? How could you be? It wasn’t the first time Jungkook had made these sort of malicious threats. It was the very thing he had done when he had gotten you alone for the first time. There was no limits for the wealthy and well-read.

What really struck you was how and why he would go as far to involve completely innocent people that had no connection to either of you and exactly how long he had known about this? Had he accessed your private texts recently or had known of them for a while now? If it was the latter that would mean he has deliberately let you text Hoseok up until yesterday. Why had he waited that long? Why didn’t he confront you about it immediately?

Given your frantic state last night, you hadn’t even thought about the possibility. You had thought his actions were impulsive and reckless, that he had find out about the texts when he had tracked your location. But that didn’t make sense , did it? Because then why did Jungkook already know so much about Hoseok’s family? It was unlikely for even him to acquire this type of information overnight . Your stomach sunk at the knowledge that you really had underestimated Jungkook again. Because this suddenly didn’t seem like a simple impulsive act of jealousy. It seemed much more calculating

“Leave them alone, Jungkook. Please don’t involve anyone else into this. I’m begging you.” You spoke gently despite the mounting fear of upsetting him with one wrong word.

“I didn’t involve anyone , baby. You did.” He replied just as gently. It felt demeaning but the side of you that had began to cater to him thought he might’ve had a point.

“Okay.” You nodded. “Okay I did, I’m sorry. You don’t have to worry about it. You told him to block me, there’s nothing to worry about.”

He pushed himself away fully from the counter and came up beside you. He gave you back your glass of juice. He seemed much taller from this sitting angle and you watched him carefully as he played with your necklace. His necklace.

“You’ll have plenty of time to show me just how sorry you are, baby.” He mumbled to you as if he was granting you a token of consideration. Running his hands across the butterfly pendant.

“Because I’ve also withdrawn your college transfer. It really did pain me to do, I don’t like seeing you upset.” You looked up at him wide eyed and tried to process what he was saying.”But it pains me even more that you were so willing to discard me and what I felt after all I’ve done is love you.”

That rage was brewing behind his dark eyes. You realize now that it had never left, only fooled you into thinking he would bend to your will.

Discard him? What was he talking about? There was more than just insecurity behind those words. You could see the clear trigger in his entire demeanor. It was as if he was hell-bent on punishing you for something you never did.

“J-Jungkook please, I have classes I need to finish . I can’t drop out. My parents, they will-”

“Shhh, it’s temporary.” He halts your rambling with with a squeeze to your shoulder. “I can get a word in to enroll you next semester or whenever I see fit.”

That didn’t make you feel better but held back any protests.

“It’s all up to you really. It’s up you to show me when I can trust you again.” He leaned down to give you a kiss on the top of your head before brushing past you and walking back over towards the opposite side again.

“Now let’s eat, I made your favorite. I hope you like it.”

You watch him turn off the stove and you were a little surprised not anything was burnt. You let him plate the breakfast without uttering a word because all that was running through your head was how stupid you were for ever letting him take care of the transfer. You had paid a much bigger price than you thought. Jungkook was no longer satisfied enough knowing he had your body and compliance. He wanted every bit of you.

Because you suspected what had truly scared him last night.

The thought of someone else taking your mind and heart away from what he thought was already his. For what he worked so hard for. He didn’t want to share any side of you. He was frightened of what threat Hoseok and Eunji had both posed against him. He had you physically but it was breaking him inside that he didn’t have you fully yet. Mind and soul.

That was it, wasn’t it?

He wanted to frighten you and push the limits. Show a new face. A new side. Because nobody really could save you from him except himself.

He was going to show you what a mistake you made not choosing the correct mask.

—

As the weeks had gone by, you had grown more disillusioned with the hope of returning to college.

During the first week, Jungkook had not seem to be wavering on his decision no matter how much you had indirectly pleaded with him. It had been made clear that you wouldn’t get far with your methods to suck up to him in the way you had.

While he welcomed your touch and over enthusiastic displays of affection, he had only been entertaining the idea of it. It had reminded you of the time he’d seen right through your performance at the cafe but unlike then, this time he had not stopped or called you out right away.

He watched how far you’d go.

And you had gone far.

By the second week you had begin to simply cater to his every need. Waking up to cook breakfast for him instead for a change, not bothering him while he worked in his office and also cooking dinner. Then you moved on to displaying more physical attention, initiating kisses and prolonging hugs despite your racing heartbeat at the closeness. You surprisingly grew so used to it that it almost began to do on instinct. Due to spacing it out through the weeks, you had thought you’d made progress .

It was not too much all at once like your previous mistake.

Your feelings were also not entirely fabricated this time which made it more dangerous. Your attachment to Jungkook had been growing as a result of the isolation he had caused you. It had already been the case before the incident and now it only grew stronger despite your efforts to keep a level head.

But you had grown desperate when the pressuring reality hit you each night of what your parents would think of you slacking off and what it could mean to not have any future planned out. To have wasted all their efforts and money just for a stupid mistake on your part. You had not been able to even access your bank account since you had been left with no phone and you had not dared ask to burrow Jungkook’s MacBook yet in order to not draw any unnecessary attention.

You thought you could gain it all back and that you had not just tried hard enough.

However, the incident that occurred the very night you exhausted your last efforts had been a horrid and rookie mistake. It was your first and only strike up until now and the memory served as a reminder to not tread in murky waters.

You waited for Jungkook’s reaction as he took the first bite. Gripping your own chopsticks tightly, you eyed the meal you had spent nearly two hours preparing, making sure you had perfected it to his liking. He nodded immediately, his doe eyes twinkling.

“It’s amazing baby.” He said in between bites, eyebrows scrunched together. “Really amazing.”

A soft sigh of relief leaves you, a smile spreading your lips.

“I was nervous, I’ve never cooked this before.” You explained, licking your lips. “I’m not much a cook though, my mom used to complain about it when I was younger.”

Jungkook hummed in response as he took another bite.

“My dad used to bake with me often though. I think I’m better at that.” The casual comment was meant to invoke the memory of the Christmas you spent with him but you aren’t sure if you succeed because his eyes drift over to center of the table.

“Are you wearing the perfume I gave you?” He asks, pulling you away from your focused script.

“Huh?” You ask then nod. “Oh y-yeah. I love it.”

He had given you a new perfume as a gift a few days ago. It was a pleasant warm rose and musk smell. The gesture came seemingly out of nowhere but the more optimistic side of you thought it maybe was due to him feeling guilty for leaving you alone here the few times he went to his father’s company for work. It would only be a couple of hours but hours felt like days when there was nothing but yourself to keep you sane.

He had not physically locked you in here. Not that you think he could anyway. But he had other ways of keeping you here, the key card he had previously let you borrow had now been revoked. He carried it with him at all times and if there was a spare one, you had not found it yet. Of course, you could physically leave and walk out but with no key, you would be forced to hang around the lobby until he came back. You were also not that dumb to try and venture off without your phone. It created too many obstacles in your head, you could get lost or something could happen to you and you wouldn’t be able to call for help. He must’ve of known that well and now that you thought it over, that was likely his main goal despite the jealousy tantrum he had tried to sell you.

Not that the jealousy had been act. You’d seen the vicious green-eyed monster take over him.

But admittedly Jungkook had already hacked your phone before. There was nothing stopping him from doing it again. Taking away your phone was a way of keeping tabs on you in another way. You felt stupid you didn’t realize it sooner though.

“I like it.” His eyes trail over you.

“Thanks. Me too.” You nod, coming to smell your wrist. “Guess you know my taste well.”

He half grins at that.

“I-I was saying that my dad used bake with me on holidays and it made me remember what my mom told me last time I talked to her.” You try to steer the conversation back.

That peaked his interest.

“What did she say?” He asked, taking a tip of his white wine.

“She said my dad had lost his job but she assured me he would find a new one soon since he’d already applied to another warehouse.”

He nods slowly urging you to continue.

“But it just makes me feel really guilty that I’m sitting here doing nothing all day while they’re working all day to….support my education. My parents are getting older.” You bit your lip, the actual guilt really hit you for a moment.

Jungkook eyes you, tapping his chopsticks against the plate.

“Do you need me to send them money?”

“No! W-What? No.” You let a breathless laugh out and shook your head. “I wouldn’t ask that. I mean I feel like it’s my fault. I f-feel like I should be doing more.”

He leans back into his seat, seemingly processing your words. Your heart is ready to jump out of your chest.

You let out a sigh and you look around the space.

“You don’t know what it’s like to grow up without finacial stability and an easy way out. But this is eating me up at night. I feel responsible for my parents and I-I am disappointing them already. Even if they don’t know it yet.”

You don’t look towards him as you continue. Feeling your throat start to close up.

“I just wish you’d ..reconsider. Going to college isn’t a threat to you-to us. I already live here and I’m with you.” You explain calmly. “If you really do love me, you wouldn’t be so careless with my future. I’ve been doing everything you want me to.”

He remains silent so you decide to add to your confession.

“I-I know you don’t trust me yet and that I haven’t earned it all. But please, keeping me away from everything isn’t going to prove my trust.” Finally, you return your gaze to him and look him straight in the eye.

“You’re only making my anxiety worse.”

With a wide-eyed expression, you raised your eyebrows emphasizing your words and waited stiffly for his reply. The TV playing in the background on low volume completely drained out as you zeroed in on him.

He let out a scoff, turning his head to the side.

The little bit of confidence you had fizzled out.

“So, that’s what all this has been about.” He confirms. “You held out longer than I thought baby.”

“No, this wasn’t just about that. I do care what you think and I did enjoy cooking for you, especially your favorite food because I-I do pay attention. I just thought you’d appreciate it more if…..if.” You stumbled over your words towards the end growing frustrated at your pleas falling on deaf ears.

“Are you done?” He asked with clear impatience when he saw you didn’t continue your rambling.

The action made you halt and stop mid sentence. You weren’t sure why but the sight of his aloofness made you cower. He was making you feel so insignificant. As if everything you said was a lie. As if he were dealing with a child instead of another equal with feelings. It reminded you of how Eunji had made you feel at times and you despised it.

You despised it because of how much you cared what he thought and felt about you.

“It’s only been a couple of weeks baby.” He coaxed you with a much nicer tone when he noticed your upset reaction. “You didn’t really think you’d sway me so easily, did you?”

Maybe you did.

You slammed down your chopsticks on the table and pushed yourself out of your chair. Jungkook followed your movements as you came to stand in front of him before you kneeled down, your knees scraping against the floor.

“Jungkook please, please.” You were out of options and resorting to the most degrading one but you didn’t care. “You need to let me go back! M-My parents… I feel stuck in here! Please!”

Reaching out to tug on his hand, your fingers caught hold of his shirt and he looked slightly surprised by your actions. His eyes widened the slightest bit as he took in your frantic state and high pitched pleas.He didn’t protest when you held his right hand with both of yours.

“Please! I’ll do anything but don’t take this away. I can’t be locked in here all day! Please!”

You felt like cowering even more under his scrutinizing eyes. His expression soon morphing into one of irritation.

“Stand up baby.” He pulled his hand away from you and wrapped an arm around your shoulder to get you back on your feet. But you didn’t budge.

He snapped your name.

“Seriously, stand up.” He demanded more firmly. Looking completely annoyed now by your antics.

“What do you think you’ll gain from keeping me from going back to university ?! I have a life to return to! This won’t make things better!” You were trying everything now. Picking holes in what you thought were his plans and ideas. Trying to shatter whatever delusion had made him come to this drastic conclusion.

He let out a low curse. The chair squeaked under him as he pushed it away from the table and turned his body towards you. He dipped his head down and tugged on your loose ponytail, the action made you immediately close your mouth and shut your eyes at the stinging pain.

“You know what I think baby?” He whispered into your ear, his breath tickling your neck.

“I think you’ve become a manipulative little bitch.”

With that he stood up and left your kneeling figure on the floor. Your hands dropped on the chair he had been sitting. You his heavy footsteps down the hallway followed by the bedroom door shutting loudly. You ran a hand through your hair and held back tears at his insult. He had never expressed himself that way about you. It left an ugly wound on your heart and it triggered the undeniable people pleasing trait in you. A feeling you never wanted to feel again.

You’d thought you’d never feel worse than how you did when you found out about Eunji’s backstabbing nature but this was ultimately worse.

It felt so much worse.

Not him.

Not him too.

It had been 2 months since then.

The rest of the days after that you had spent crying your eyes out til you physically felt you couldn’t anymore. You had held a grudge against him for his cruel words and he had taken notice. The weeks that had followed had been consistent of his various forms of apologies. He’d told you he hadn’t meant it and how sorry he was for using such a nasty insult towards you. Brought you back flowers everytime he’d return back from whatever errand he went to that day. Spent the night paying extra attention to you until you’d given in to his pleading large eyes that at times resembled that of a wounded boy’s.

His sweet whispers had convinced you to the point of even more intimate forms of affection, your body falling victim to his needy touches again . In a way you’d indulged in it as form of distraction yet again. Surprisingly yourself with the way you’d tightly grip the sheets, head buried into the mattress letting out encouraging whimpers at every harsh thrust. The nights had turned into the sweet escape you needed to make up for all the hours you’d spend alone. They had felt like a reward for making it through days with no complaints.

So you had given up for the time being and taken a different approach. You weren’t sure if you’d even call it that as it was more so your way of coping with the situation.

Was it? The days had started going by more quickly and at time you found yourself wondering what you were coping with exactly.

Your days were now mainly focused on new hobbies that were done in in the comfort of the apartment. You got into scrapbooking oddly enough. The idea had come to you once you rummaged through one of Jungkook’s drawers and found a kraft paper journal. Along with some stationary items you’d stolen from him, you had began to fill out the pages with different places you wanted to visit around the world. It had been something you remembered doing once when you were in middle school but you never got to finish due to running out pages on your tiny cheap notebook.

This time, you’d glued every magazine cut out, ribbon, glitter, different stickers and wrote out reasons to visit for each place. It had taken up your time along with the books you’d get Jungkook to bring you.

Comfort could help build a glorious cage.

You’d soon realized that the time here had simply brought back you’re already introverted nature and heightened it. It made way for you to indulge in all the more small things that you had always wanted but never had the luxury of having. Everything seemed much more appealing in a large space. You’d gotten to rearrange thing to your liking, growing more bold with the way you dealt with the kitchen or bathroom supplied as if they were your own. Integrating every one of your habits with Jungkook’s. Now you rarely thought twice before waking up and starting your routine. Your focus shifting to what you should bake that day, what you should read or write in your notebook, if you would scrapbook or finish a puzzle or simply lounge around and watch TV for the rest of the day.

The thoughts of your parents and responsibilities still lingered but in a more hidden spot of your brain, coming out in infrequent waves when your anxiety would also sneak it’s way through the edges.

Your anxiety.

It had been controlled every since Jungkook had come home with your refilled prescription last month. You had no idea when he had even found your empty bottle and took it upon himself to order the refill but you didn’t complain. It had eased you with its way it had you out cold nearly every night. No more heart palpitations or sweaty palms before drifting off to a fragile sleep. It didn’t rid you of it completely of course, you had your off days where it would trigger back.

The days had become more peaceful as well as Jungkook had started to spend more time at home too and taken less trips to the company. His absence was often the reason for those flare ups of anxiousness. He hadn’t had any outbursts since that dinner disaster and the one he’d had before become more of a distant dream floating further and further. That wasn’t to say he’d let his boundaries slip away. The mention of college was still a subject you hadn’t dared bring up again, neither was the one of your phone.

It was tedious to break the habit of reaching over the nightstand to pick up your phone or the sudden urge you still got to want to look at the time or check texts and emails. It had taken you the same effort to try and convince yourself you had no assignments due anymore and you didn’t need to set an alarm for anything. It had driven you nearly mad at the beginning, given your unpleasant breakdown but your mind had latched itself onto other stimulating activities to ease it.

You turned on the faucet and rinsed off your toothbrush before opening the medicine cabinet. Taking out your anxiety meds, your eyes linger on the pill bottle you’d always see. ‘Zyprexa 10 mg’.

You pick it up and unscrew the lid, counting the pills inside.

11.

They’re had been 11 pills ever since you’d first had found them in this cabinet. You didn’t know why you bothered to count them everyday. The number never changed. Jungkook was not taking them and had not been for a while. Despite the worry that piled inside you, you had not had the courage to confront him about it. Of course you didn’t know his reasoning or the details as to why he may not be taking it. You thought over the possibility of perhaps his doctor taking him off them but it was all just a part of the many excuses you’d made for him. You knew well why you wouldn’t mention them to him. The thought of an unpleasant reaction had chained you to an invisible wall.

“You’ve become a manipulative little bitch.”

The words would too often make their home inside mind, ruining your pleasant thoughts for the day.

You screwed the lid back on and tossed them back inside. After taking your meds, you walked back into the bedroom and saw Jungkook buttoning up his loose shirt. He tucked the ends inside his well-fitted pants, the work attire hugging his frame perfectly.

“I was thinking of making brownies today.” You tell him with a yawn, rubbing your eyes as you went over to him. “Or lemon bars, I haven’t decided.”

His nose scrunched up at the word ‘lemon’. It was so animated that it reminded you of a child.

“Definitely brownies, please.” You fought a grin before your eyes took in the scrapbook that was wide open on the bed.

“You’ve added a new place.” Jungkook comments, gesturing to the addition of ‘Zion’ and the breathtaking landscape pictures you had plastered all over the two large pages.

You felt a bit shy at how nosey he had been in knowing every detail of the book ever since you’d started it. It was endearing how he’d pay close attention to every page though and how he’d encouraged you to keep adding more. He had spent one day making you describe and explain why’d you chosen each place despite the small descriptions you’d already written on them. Most had been really superficial and non-interesting reasons, you just sounded like the typical tourist. He didn’t mind though, he had rested his head on your shoulder and listened while making sly comments.

That day he’d also promised you he’d take you to every one. You’d nearly laughed in his face but he had not broken a single smile. He had been dead serious. He claimed that at least but he seemed to know why you’d find that hard to believe given the circumstances he’d put you in.

“It won’t always be this way, baby.” He said with such certainty that you needed to believe him.“I’m only trying to teach you a lesson, show you what you haven’t yet realized.”

You didn’t really dwell on what he meant by that. It was obvious enough he’d done this to get back at you but what exactly had you not realized yet? You weren’t sure. In your perspective, his motives seem to be the same as they always did.

To keep you at his side.

“I think it’s really cool. I remember looking up pictures of it one time.”

“It looks amazing, I don’t think I’ve ever visited anywhere like that.” His gaze then returned to you as he motioned for you to get closer.

You held back a gasp when he grasped your waist and pulled you into his chest, your feet lifting off the floor for a second.

“I have a surprise for you.” He muffled into your neck, pressing his lips to your skin. “God I love this smell on you.”

It was his own perfume he had gifted you a while back and you almost called out the arrogant comment but you only let out a scoff instead.

“A surprise?” Your heart had skipped a beat but you scolded yourself to remain calm. To not get your hopes up for something too grandeur. Jungkook had made it clear you had not yet earned his full trust .The path was unclear but it was considerably still long.

And that meant you couldn’t have earned your phone back.

“Have you ever been here?” You turned when you felt the loss of contact on your neck and looked down to what he had pulled from behind him. He held two tickets in his hand, your eyed read over the famous name of the theme park.

“No.” Your eyed widened as you took the tickets in your hand. “The prices were always too out of my budget.”

The popular theme park was a known tourist attraction in this city. It was the largest in the country and you had been hoping you would get to visit it when you had first moved here for college but the money would never add up. Your funds would barely cover your food expenses at times and it left little room for much else.

It felt like you had a golden ticket in your hand, a full smile broke out on your face.

“Are we really going?” You face him, the tiniest bit of doubt seeping through your tone. The slightest bit of possibility of this being some kind of test or joke had slithered it’s way into you.

Jungkook looked almost offended by the question. His eyes boring into you as he let out a short laugh.

“Of course we are baby, that’s why I bought them.” He tells you, kissing your cheek. “You’ve been such a good girl lately, you deserve it.”

You were going out.

You would be outside again and at one of the most whimsical theme parks to exist.

“And if you keep it up,” He says into your ear, fingers tracing down the edge of your shoulder.“Things might start going back to the way they were.”

His implication was clear. If you stayed in his good graces, you’d eventually get your phone back and even your college transfer back. Your future back. The freedom back.

“Really?” Your eyes tried to search for the bluff. The teasing. Anything. But it didn’t surface. He nodded and smirked at your reaction, laying another kiss to your temple.

Had that been the lesson?

He had given these things so easily and he wanted to show you how easily he had been able to snatch it right back. If you had thought had been walking on eggshells with him before, that had been nothing compared to these past weeks, months.

That was the key to the lock wasn’t it? Had that been it all this time? If you had wanted to go back to the way things were, Jungkook had to see your mind and devotion shift completely towards him. Truly towards him. Not in the way you thought it looked like it would please him. He had made it happen gradually, organically even.

But the pressing question stood.

Did you want to go things to go back to how they were?

Yes. But not so much that it hurt you if they didn’t. Like you thought it would. Like it had hurt the first few weeks.

That in itself meant you were running out of time.

Because you shouldn’t want things to go back to the way they were.

You should want to completely get rid of Jungkook and his insanity. You should want to figure out a way to escape his blackmail and invisible cage. You should want to never turn back.

But it seemed to be too late.

Because all you had been thinking about these days were how much you studied his every move, how much you had memorized every blemish or insignificant mole on his back while you drifted off to sleep. How often he’d pout his lips unknowingly when you weren’t paying attention. How much you’d wish to smooth out the crease between his eyebrows just once and be able to look at him with as much love as he looked at you.

You’d analyzed his every move, afraid of what was next but in the process you questioned why you had also memorized his every habit. His favorite foods and snacks, how surprisingly tidy he was about his closet and clothes. How normal he seemed despite the dark secrets and intentions that boiled inside him.

Because the more you stayed in his home, the more you had started forgetting what your life was before it and why those starry brown eyes seemed far more enticing than the filthy walls of a motel or the familiar humble structure of your parent’s home.

—

From the moment you entered the park, you felt your spirits go up. You didn’t know if was purely the fact that you were finally getting fresh air or that you were actually looking forward to seeing everything inside. It was jaw dropping from the get-go. You were sure your fascination came from never really attending these types of attractions as a child or teenager but this one experience seemed to make up for all of it.

During the drive here you had mentioned to Jungkook that you wanted to take pictures of everything. It was a subtle hint towards your phone but in reality you weren’t expecting him to give in to you even for that use of it. You were right of course, he brushed it off saying you could use his instead.

You gave Jungkook’s hand a squeeze when you spotted the growing crowds as you neared the some of the restaurants and rides but he gave you an assuring smile.

“You’re fine.” He tugged you into his side, the breeze felt nice on your skin.

You repeated his words in your head as you focused your attention more towards all the tall rides and characters that wandered around the area dressed from well-known fables. A small giggle leaving your lips at some of the costumes they wore. They looked ridiculously cute.

The next hour consisted of you practically dragging him around and pointing to all the types of junk food that you wanted to try. The first victim was the Fairy themed milkshakes located in the Medieval village zone. They were a baby pink and blue infusion with edible glitter sprinkled on the top of the whipped cream.

“They look so good.” You mumbled to Jungkook as you two waited for your order in front of the small stand that was shaped like a tree bark. The decorations were impressive, the led lights layered around the plastic leaves flickered but it was hard to notice them in broad daylight.

“It looks like it tastes like a bag of sour candy.” He mused, playing with the ends of your hair.

“That would taste good.”

He smiled fondly at that, laying a soft kiss on your forehead before he heard the order being called out. His delicate touch were the ones that always sent the most shivers through your body.

He brought back the obnoxious drink and you wasted no time in taking a sip. The flavor was not as strong as you thought, it tasted almost like marshmallow but with a fruity aftertaste.

“Mmm.” You exclaimed sipping more. “Try it.”

He threw out his gum that he had been chewing and took a reluctant sip of it. You watched as he smacked his lips together, making a distasteful face.

“Oh baby,” He handed you back the shake with a shake of his head. “That’s fucking awful.”

What? It had not been that bad even if it wasn’t to someone’s liking. You wanted to roll your eyes at his dramatics.

“No it’s not!” You gaped at him, taking another sip. It tasted perfect to you. “It’s probably because of your gum.”

“Sure.” He said unconvincingly before guiding you both back towards the next destination on the theme park map.

The next victims included a corn dog, some type of corn soup and an abnormal sized cookie. All delicious to you but it had not been such a good idea to eat them all at once and then begin to go on the rides. Time was passing a lot quicker than you hoped and every stop you’d make to take a picture seemed to take longer with crowds of people waiting behind you to take the exact same one. In the exactly same pose.

The sun was setting and your legs had been started to burn now but you tried your best to ignore them. Thankfully, your anxiousness had not surfaced too much today. You thought over how it would’ve been a very different story if you hadn’t been able to take your meds again. It would’ve likely made it impossible for you to make it five minutes in here , let alone half the day.

Your eyes observed as Jungkook took a picture of one of the brightly lit canoe rides under a bridge with a boyish grin on his face despite the contrasting appearance of his dark attire and inked sleeves.

If only the people around you knew how quickly he could turn it off and on. Not even the almost grudge type style could truly ever match how cynical he could be if he chose to. It was anything but a font.

Yet you almost felt required to conceal that part of him from others. A feeling of protectiveness over how they’d perceive him or judge him.

It was silly considering the average pedestrian had more to fear of him than him of them but of course feelings never took the logical route.

“Did you come here a lot growing up?” You asked him as he snapped a last photo and handed over his phone to you. You had been the one carrying it around mostly due to him growing tired of you asking for it every second you saw something that peaked your interest.

“Twice. I loved the fast rides mostly.” He replied and you remembered how he had not stopped insisting you both get on the giant anchor ride. The sight of the swinging ship was a little off-putting to say the least but you weren’t completely against the idea. You had already been on a couple of the smaller rides in the park, like the spinning seashell ride that had you almost tasting the donut you’d ate before getting on.

You stared down at his phone screen, his home screen lit up and unsurprisingly his background was now a picture of you two standing at the very entrance of the theme park with the jumbo size sign behind you.

It was weird to look at because of how natural you both looked in it. His hand wrapped around your shoulder, a grin on his face and you had placed a hand on his chest.You tried to find an indication that this looked like anything other than a normal and even corny couple picture but you didn’t find one.

Could it be that you failed to find one because that’s what it felt like when it was taken? And it was it still felt like right now.

“With your whole family?”

“Mhm.” He nodded nonchalantly as you both walked past down the sidewalk that had all the restaurants and bakery shops.“ It was mostly my mom and I though, my dad used to complain pretty early on and just let us wander the park while he sat and waited on the benches.”

“Oh.” You mumble, frowning a bit.“Did that annoy you?”

He glanced at you, seeming to think back on it.

“Not really. I don’t think I cared that much back then or noticed.” Despite the dismissive words, you couldn’t help but detect a bit of snark in his tone.

“Still, he’s your dad.” You remind him as he held the shop door open for you and you gave him a small smile before stepping inside. His hand on your back despite you guiding which direction to walk over to first.

“He is.” You hear him reply behind you.“Why the sudden curiousity about my dad baby? Do you need my entire family therapy notes?”

You grew nervous at his inquisitive tone. You had not meant to pry into his father in particular, that’s just where the conversation had fallen naturally. For the first time your intentions didn’t have much of an ulterior motive in hopes of catching him in a lie or uncovering another skeleton in his closet. It was becoming a habit to just ask him about much of anything in a way you’d ask a friend.

“I was just wondering, my parents could never take me to these kinds of things.”

You felt him look at you from the corner of your eye when you went to stand beside him to look over a pile of baseball caps and beanies on a display shelf.

“Truth is there isn’t much to say about him, good or bad. I saw him as more of a burden to me at one point more than anything.” He mutters as he lifts up a headband with mouse ears on each end and tried to put it on you before you swat his hand away.

You don’t know what to say to his passing comment. There was an urge to ask him a follow-up question to it but you decide against it.

“Look at these.” You pointed in awe at the sight of vintage themed keychains instead. The souvenir shop you were in had an European architectural style. You went to pick up a pair of tiny tea cups that had a floral pattern wrapped around the porcelain glass. “It’s all so pretty.”

The previous scenic gardens zone you had just been at had probably been your favorite place out of the whole park.Jungkook’s camera roll now full with photos of all the different colored tulips that surrounded the trail. It was one of the most popular attractions for good reason. Jungkook had followed you like a lost child when you kept speed walking towards the countless sets of floral faces.

“Pschyology,” Jungkook says as he picks up the same tea cups in your hand, inspecting them. “What made you pick it as a major?”

You give him a questioning look at the drastic subject change, tensing up a bit at thought of discussing college again considering how downhill it had gone last time you had brought it up.

“Um.” You swallow. “I’m not so sure, I felt drawn to it and it seemed like a subject I could do well in. I don’t know if that’s still true though.”

It turns out knowing your psyche and patterns so well doesn’t always save you. You felt more disconnected with it by the day.

“Is that still what you want to do?” He puts down the teacups, his fingers brushing over a set of tiny wine glasses.

“Yes. I think so.” You try not to sound too eager. It felt like such a fragile gift he could easily shatter between his fingers.

He nods.

“You don’t have to feel like you need to do it just to please your parents baby. If you have other interests , I could always open up a way for you to do them.” You aren’t sure how true that is considering he had already snatched your future away so easily until he saw fit to give it back. Who was to say he wouldn’t do the same to anything else you wanted to do? But he sounded so genuine that you wanted to believe him.

You stay silent.

“Why did you decide to study so far away from home?” His eyes study your face.

The question catches you off guard. You brought your gaze down to the items in your hands. If you lied, he would know. You were sure of it. But if you told the truth, you feared the reaction would be not much different.

He seems to understand the meaning behind your silence. A look of realization crossing his face before his gaze hardened.

“Oh.” He says dryly. “Of course.”

You felt embarrassed by it all over again. You’d already tortured yourself enough for your dumb decision when it had come to Eunji.

“At least I have one thing to thank her for then.” He grasps your chin, a small smile playing on his lips before he gives you a firm kiss. His hand wraps around your neck as he pushes you further into him.

You feel yourself melting away, your lips parting slightly allowing his tongue to slip inside. Despite the intensity, the kiss feels playful with the feeling of his other hand pinching your sides and making you yelp.

“J-Jungkook!” You hiss in a low whisper, pulling away. You glance around to make sure nobody is watching you. It always seemed mortifying to you for strangers to witness those intimate displays.

He laughed in response, walking past you to seemingly go look at something else. You felt a little breathless and your face was for sure looking flushed.

A vibration in your hand made you look down.

Jungkook’s phone had received a notification. You snuck a glance at him to make sure he wasn’t looking your direction before unlocking it. If he had a passcode, he had removed it for today so you could easily navigate his photo gallery.

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about going through it but it had been impossible to with Jungkook glued to your side the entire time. Even on your bathroom breaks, he had not been careless enough to let you go in with it. Silently reaching out his hand to remove it from your grip before you’d slip inside.

However, the notification was not what you were expecting. It was a reminder for his mother’s birthday. Tomorrow.

He’d set a reminder? You fought a smile at that. It seemed thoughtful given how he expressed their less than ideal relationship nowadays.

You tapped on his calendar, mindlessly scrolling down and you didn’t even pretend to be shocked your birthday was on there as well but your eyes caught another date that caught your attention more. It was titled ‘FS’.

11-11-20

You frowned at it.

FS.

Staring at the date, you tried to figure out why it would be significant to him. It clearly wasn’t some type of appointment or meeting considering the difference in the way he had wrote those down. Had it been an anniversary? You thought back to when you had met him.He would be the type to write that day as your anniversary date. But this was a year too early. You hadn’t met him at the cafe until much later.

Your fingers froze the second you pieced it together.

FS.

First sighting.

“Baby?” Nearly dropping the phone at the sound of him behind you, you quickly exited the calendar app and turned to him just in time he closed in on you.

“You got a reminder for your mom’s birthday.” You tell gently and hand him over the phone, a crease forming in your eyebrow. “It’s tomorrow?”

He takes it and types something out.

“Yeah, she kept asking me if we would come to her birthday dinner tomorrow.” He tells you and you can’t detect any specific emotion from his tone.

“My dad isn’t going to make it to it again.” He looks like he’s about to roll his eyes.

His mother wanted you to come too?

“We should go.” You offer, looking back towards his phone. “I-I mean if you want to? She probably feels lonely.”

He looks up to meet your gaze.

“You want to go?”

Would he find that weird? You didn’t think so. He didn’t seem to mind last time she had come unexpectedly to the apartment.

“She was really nice to me.” You say recalling the memory that seemed far away now.

The corner of his mouth lifts up. Like it did whenever he found something you did cute or amusing.

“Sucking up to your mother in law already, baby?” He teased and pulled you in. It wasn’t that. Was it? You suppose you didn’t mind bonding with her a bit more. The idea didn’t sound terrible. The image of her or anyone sitting alone having dinner on their birthday made your heart shatter.

Would Jungkook have really let her spend her birthday completely alone?

“Let’s go, we still have one more ride to go on.” He tells you and your face drops.

“No, please.” You complain as he tugged you forward but then looked back at the tiny pair of teacups you had put back down.

“Heights aren’t really my thing, I’m gonna throw up all I ate.”

“Don’t be such a baby.” He gives you a cynical grin, picking up the teacup set. “Let’s pay for this first though.”

“I don’t need that.” You protest going to grab it from him but he pulls it up higher so you are unable to reach it.

“You didn’t put it down the entire time we were in here.”

You groan as he practically drags you towards the register.

—-

The restaurant was dimly lit. It was a bit far out of into the city, located in a more calm and pleasant atmosphere that was popular for its scenic views. You felt out of place the moment you stepped in. Evidently you didn’t look out of place though. Your appearance was funded by your boyfriend, your mid-length black dress probably cost more than your entire tuition. You would’ve confirmed it if Jungkook hadn’t ripped of the tag before gifting it to you a few days ago. You stared down at the Christian Louboutin red bottoms on your feet, you’d half expected them to sense your tax bracket and make you fall head first the second you put them on.

You switched the gift bag you were carrying to your less dominant hand when you went to greet Jungkook’s mother with a swift side hug. She looked lovely, you caught a quick whiff of her perfume before you pulled away. The scent was slightly familiar. She seemed ecstatic at your arrival, well you assumed her joy was mainly aimed towards her son but you didn’t mind being on the receiving end of it too. It felt like ages since you had interacted with anyone besides Jungkook.

Not that you necessarily minded it, you weren’t exactly equipped at social interactions with strangers as proven before. But in a way his mother didn’t feel like too much of a stranger like last time you saw her. There was an air of warmth that surrounded her that at times mirrored Jungkook’s.

“Happy birthday.” You say to her , digging your nails into your palm in an effort to calm your nerves. The undeniable awkwardness you carried was hard to mask.

“I’m so glad you could make it.” She said. Her hair was styled into a slick bun just like yours and you smiled at the coincidence. She looked more elegant this time around, her heavier makeup enhanced her most prominent features.

“Thank you for inviting me.”

Jungkook had been walking a few steps behind you and you saw his mother’s face lit up instantly when she spotted him over your shoulder . You turned your neck, watching a tense smile spread his lips as he hesitated to hug her. It was the most uncomfortable you had never seen him. As a matter of fact, it was probably the only time you had ever seen him like that.

He gave in at last, giving her a brief hug that seemed to surprise even her. Her eyes widened a bit at his short-lived contact and you wondered how long it has been since Jungkook had properly hugged his mother. Months? Years?

It seems like you weren’t the only one out of place.

You took a seat, placing his mother’s gift beside you on the floor. Your nerves kicked in at the sight of the crowded space and far too prestigious set of silverware in front of you. Jungkoook soon followed beside you, a much more relaxed look on his face now that he put some distance with his mother. The smell of his cologne hit you and it did wonders to calm your overactive senses.

It was funny to think his scent once did the exact opposite.

“You must be sad your husband couldn’t make it, I’m sorry I wish I could’ve met him too.” You commented in an attempt to break any of the awkward silence that could follow after that greeting.

It was a small fib , you weren’t sure you wanted to meet Jungkook’s father at all with the way both him and his mother had spoken about him. He seemed rather cold by their descriptions but then again, if his mother was anything like Jungkook, you weren’t sure she was the most reliable narrator.

You pushed the awfully rude thought away, not knowing where it came from. His mother had not been unkind to you and she didn’t seem to carry any of Jungkook’s negative traits at all.

“Ah, don’t be. My husband rarely attends birthday dinners. His business trips are something I’ve grown used to.” She responds as she looks down at the menu but sneaks a quick glance at you.

“You look even prettier than I remembered by the way, my son sure knows how to pick them.”

Your cheeks warm at her compliment.

“It hasn’t been that long since you saw me.” You hold back a laugh. It was probably the help of the makeup you had piled on to cover all the blemishes on your skin that had you appearing more vibrant.

“I’m getting old now. A few weeks feel like a decade.” She sighs and you can’t help but let out a laugh this time. Jungkook is silent , looking engrossed in the menu.

“You’re not old at all. You look great.” You reassured her and decide to finally start paying attention to the menu as well. However, seeing the prices made you nearly cringe.

You sneaked a glance back at his mother and then towards Jungkook. You chewed on your bottom lip as an unpleasant thought occured to you. It didn’t seem like his mother suspected you weren’t from the same background as Jungkook but what if she did? If she knew you couldn’t afford any of this, not even what you were wearing from head to toe, would she assume something different from you?

Thinking back to your previous interaction with her at his apartment, his mother didn’t really seem like the type. She had not questioned your family or background at all. She only seemed interested in you and what you meant for her son. You buried the thought away despite the feeling of embarrassment at the idea of her somehow knowing he had basically began to financially support your entire life. Among other things.

“I’ll just get whatever you get.” You muttered to Jungkook, eyeing his menu.

He frowns.

“Are you sure? You should get whatever you feel like eating baby.” His words comfort you but just by glancing at the options, you realize you don’t even know what half of it means. They don’t provide much descriptions either.

Jungkook observed you and you tried to ignore the way you could feel him already grasping your issue. Him knowing you that well shouldn’t make your stomach flip the way it did.

“That one,” He gestured to the oddly named item on the left corner. “It’s a pasta. Tagliatelle with truffle sauce. It’s really good, fits your taste I think.”

“You got that from me liking the spaghetti you made the other night?”

He gives you a teasing grin and nods. “Think of it as white spaghetti.”

Swallowing you put the menu down and tap your finger against it.

“I hope your mom likes the gift.” You really had no idea what to get her so naturally you relied completely on Jungkook to choose. It was a high end handbag he had picked out, assuring you that it would be to her liking. Maybe some flowers would’ve seemed more genuine on your part but you had forgotten to ask Jungkook to stop by for them on your way here.

“She will, don’t worry.” He pecked your lips before you could scold him. The PDA would never feel comfortable to you no matter how used you were to his touch by now. Much less with his mother as the main audience this time.

“My son has always been really affectionate. Straight out the womb, he was such a cuddly child.” His mother watched you fondly, her hands now clasped in front of her. “You two seem to match so well .”

“Yes, you mentioned he was clingy.” You blurt out before you realized what you said. It sounded a bit rude.

“I mean, as a child.” You clarify and watch Jungkook raised both his eyebrows as he took a sip of his water. He seemed unbothered by the comment thankfully.

“Yes, he was.” His mother chuckled at you.

At least they have a sense of humor. Must run in the family.

“What I mean is, I’m glad that side of him is back. I hadn’t seen it in a long time.” She explains with a more glum tone.

“And who’s fault is that?” You hear Jungkook remark.

His mother’s expression visibly falls. Her smile remained but she lowered her gaze, avoiding his eyes.

“Jungkook.” You whisper to him with an imploring look.

Instantly you feel a sense of not only embarrassment for her but deep empathy. She seemed so happy just moments ago. It was her birthday and that made it all much worse. While you knew Jungkook was far from fully reconciling with his mother, you had assumed he was on the right path at least. His mother himself had hinted at it. You had expected him to not make snide remarks at the very least.

Thankfully the waiter comes to take the orders before any of you can utter another word. You bite your nails nervously and look towards Jungkook for help in pronouncing the pasta meal. He struggles with it too but plays it off better than you would’ve. The pinch between his eyebrows was amusing and he gives your shoulder a squeeze when he notices your inability to keep a straight face.

Once the waiter leaves, you don’t know what to say to make things better. You don’t know his mother well enough to offer any sort of distraction but you wanted to lighten the mood at all costs. You never did well this sort of pressuring atmosphere, you feared you’d start to feel claustrophobic soon if something didn’t distract you too.

“Lots of children tend to be clingy I think.” You look between her and Jungkook. He gives you a thoughtful look, resting his head on the palm of his hand “But it usually fades out one way or another.”

It was a weak attempt.

“Yes, I guess that’s true.” His mother replied softly seeming to appreciate it nonetheless.

“Did you always want to be a lawyer?” Changing the subject might be for the best.

She goes on go explain that she didn’t at first and thought she’d end up becoming an interior designer due to her fascination with art when she was younger. But she ultimately decided to go to law school because her parents thought she’d strive there and have a more successful career overall. They had been right of course, she had been a top student. She claims it was hard and one of the worst experiences in her life was attending those first days of law school along with the bar exam despite her success.

You listen to her intently, nodding along to her ramblings that at moments remind you of your own. Her mannerisms continue to remind you of her son though, the resemblance still as uncanny as ever.

The food eventually arrives and that’s when you look over at Jungkook. He doesn’t seem particularly interested in what his mother is saying and you assume it’s because he must’ve already heard it countless of times before.

“What about you? I heard you’re a psychology student.” His mother questions, cutting into her steak.

You pause, your eyes slowly trailing towards Jungkook who has sharpened his gaze. But his glare is directed at his mother first before it lands on you.

A warning sits behind his eyes.

“Y-Yeah. I’m just sorta taking a short break right now.”

Take the shake of your voice. You wanted to smack yourself for having such thin skin and the complete opposite of a poker face.

“Really? Oh that’s good. I hope you find a nice career in psychology. You seem like a very smart girl.” You smile at her words.

I thought I was until I met your son. The words sat on the tip of your tongue.

“She is.” Jungkook confirms with a nod, stabbing the fork harshly into the piece of meat on his place. He raised an eyebrow at his mother. “She doesn’t need a career to prove that.”

His mother smiles, oblivious to what those words really mean for you. She swallowed her bite and looks between the two of you.

“She doesn’t but I’m sure that’s what she wants if she’s in college.”

“Mm” Jungkook muses, holding up the piece of steak on his fork as if to inspect it. “Sure, she can get a degree but I expect to take care of my wife so there’s not a need for her to stress over it.”

Wife.

A cough leaves you upon hearing that. You tried to chew down the pasta you were sure had just gotten stuck in your throat. Blinking away the tears forming, you reach over to take a sip of water.

“Oh?” His mother eyes your actions, a bit perplexed. “I suspected you two were already serious but I didn’t know marriage was already on the table. I’m glad.”

You clear your throat and wipe away your watery eyes.

“I-I,”You gape at Jungkook but he ignores you , still looking towards his mother. “Sorry I wasn’t expecting him to say that either.”

“Eventually we will. Maybe sooner rather than later.” He shrugs, bringing the fork to his mouth and chewing down the steak. “ That’s the goal isn’t it? What’s so shocking about it?”

Staring down at your plate, you swore you feel the room spin for a split second.

“No! It’s not shocking at all. I always knew you’d want to marry once you found the right person.” His mother beams, sounding much more pleased by the idea the more she talked. All her previous bewilderment gone.

“I think I’d need to mention that to my parents first.” You express and send Jungkook a puzzled look.

Your parents.

The thought of them receiving the news of you in such a serious relationship that talks of marriage were already in the air made you squirm. You had barely even admitted to having crushes back when you lived with them, let alone someone close to a fiancé. A stupidly foolish part of you at one point had fantasied about that person you’d bring home to them would be Eunji.

Eunji.

You blocked her image out entirely, aggressively burying it away.

“I think it’s time for you to let me meet them then.” He throws back in a sickeningly sweet stone that silenced you with ease.

The last thing you wanted was Jungkook within any close distance of your parents. Not with everything he had against you. He might be the only man who’s ever had your heart ache terribly like this but he was could also become the man from your worst nightmares at one wrong move . To have him face to face with the people he’d swore he’d show your darkest secrets to if you didn’t comply was something you weren’t sure you could handle yet. The very thought of it made a wave of nausea hit you. It would be such a vulnerable position.

Even though it felt like years rather than months since that video had been taped, you knew that in itself meant you had distanced yourself from it so much that a part of you felt like it never existed. That Jungkook had never done that.

That your entire relationship with him wasn’t built on lies and deceit.

The reality was too hard to face because your heart was insisting you’d give in entirely to it’s desires.

Your true desires.

And you felt like you already had.

“You haven’t met her parents?” His mother gathers your attention again. Her question lingered in the air for a few seconds before you took it in.

“Uh, no. Not yet. They don’t live close by.” You hope the excuse sounds convincing enough with your overly wide smile.

“Ah.” She nods understandably. “I hope they can meet him soon. I’d also like to meet the parents of such a lovely girl.”

“Yes, hopefully.” Twirling your fork around your plate you realize you’re not that hungry anymore.

“I didn’t see my parents much when I was in law school either and after I met my husband-”

“Excuse me, I need to use the restroom.”Jungkook announced and his mother paused mid sentence, giving him a small nod. You felt him lay a kiss on your cheek before he stood from his seat.

You watched as he walked away and disappeared into a corner.

“He gets bored easily at times.” His mother said sheepishly following your gaze.

For a second you’re tempted to ask her more about Jungkook now that the topic of conversation had shifted back to him momentarily. However, it seemed rude to try and pry about more than what you had already asked her when you had first met her. She seemed to have already over shared everything about him to you and you didn’t know if there was much else to ask. Not anything significant at least. Still you were greedy for every of untold story about him, for any of those insignificant details. Surprisingly your nosiness didn’t come from a place of pure fear this time. Your unease was accompanied with genuine concern and curiosity.

But you decided against it.It was her birthday after all. You shouldn’t risk tip toeing over a topic that could send her back to an unpleasant time period.

“I apologize for bringing you to such a crowded restaurant.” His mother says as she looks around.

The heavy murmurs and piano playing in the background fading as you focused on her.

“I know it’s not the best place for anxiety prone people. I used to hate it here too before I got used to it and fell in love with the food.” She adds with a soft laugh.

“Oh no it’s fine, really. I’ve been able to manage my anxiety a little better these days. It’s beautiful here.” You assure her and take a bite out of your food, not wanting it go to waste.

“That’s good to hear. Therapy?”

“N-No, I haven’t gone to therapy in a while. It did help me a lot though. I’m sure you know. Jungkook mentioned you also used to attend therapy regularly.” You bring your hand to your cover your mouth as you finish the bite.

You made a point to leave out the unnerving details of that story, not wanting to reveal how her son was first made aware of you. It was in fact a weird circumstance regardless if she was aware of his tendencies.

Her bright expression faltered. She stared at you for a long moment and blinked.

“Yeah.” She said after seconds of silence."Yeah, they for sure do help.”

She tilted her head to the side and focused back on her food. You notice the tiniest scrunch of her eyebrows before she sets her lips into a straight line.

That was strange.

You watch her carefully, your eyebrows furrowing as you try to decipher her reaction.

Jungkook returns a few minutes later and you plaster a smile on your face, attempting to push away the growing suspicion that settled in the pit of your stomach. The rest of the dinner goes smoothly, not anything of substance is said and Jungkook is mostly quiet. It was odd in a way to see him so closed off when it was usually you that was the silent one around people. You suppose it was due his mother’s presence being not nearly as intimidating as most people’s. Ironic considering her choice of career.

“We got you a gift.” You state the obvious once all of you had cleared your plates and a small round cake sat at the center of the table.

It had a dark chocolate spatula ribbon design on the bordes with a golden specked butterfly as the cake topper. The long wax candles placed in the middle already blown out. Your eyes had unconsciously been locked on the certain golden speckled figurine for reasons you could not begin to explain. It made you too aware of what his mother had said about the necklace.

“Jungkook picked it out so please blame him if you hate it.” You lightly joked.

“You really didn’t have to but thank you so much.” She took the gift bag from your hand, giving you a soft rub on the back when you leaned over to give her another quick hug.

You settled back into your seat and watched anxiously as she opened up the bag, shuffling through the tissue paper.

She took out the teal colored handbag and you clasped your hands together, tucking them into your chest. At first, the look in her face was unreadable as she further studied the purse. She looked in deep thought for a mere second before a smile broke out, her eyes widening.

“I-this is beautiful.” She expressed and looked over at Jungkook, you tuned to glance at him and noticed him simply watching her.

“I used to have one just like this.” You raise an eyebrow. Had Jungkook gifted her a purse she already owned? You wanted to call him out but his his mother continued.

“I lost it a long time ago. Thank you.” She told you before her gaze met her son’s again briefly. “I didn’t think you’d still remembered the exact purse.”

Looking down at the hand-bag, your eyes scanned her face before they traveled over to Jungkook’s piercing gaze. It was unflinching. He had avoided eye contact with his mother for most of the dinner but he now he seemed to be unable to look away. You couldn’t describe the way he was looking at her. His jaw was clenched but his eyes held something more.

And you swore you saw the corners of his mouth twitch so quickly that you convinced yourself it was your mind making you see things.

That same suspicion from earlier settled back into your stomach.

—-

It was stuck.

You pulled harder, letting out a huff as the bed frame legs loudly scraped against the floor tiles. Finally it moved and you slipped your head in between the small gap between it and the wall. Your hand felt for the piece of paper until you gripped the edges of it and carefully tried to scratch off the tape to not rip it apart.

Once you had it, you pushed the headboard back in place. Making sure it didn’t look slanted or out of place. Your eyes read over what you had written.

11-11-20

You were sure you would remember it without the need to write it down but you really didn’t want to put all your faith on the short term memory you possessed at the most important times. It had been the right decision because the numbers had already begun to fade when you got home that day with from the theme park. The hiding spot seemed extreme but you really knew better than to risk anything less cautious. Even more so with something that could very well be insignificant.

Jungkook didn’t tolerate secrets.

You knew that well now. Even if it was a one way street. It always would with him and you were starting to understand that, accept it even. But you didn’t know why your gut was telling you to not forget these numbers. This date. The first time Jungkook saw you in that waiting room.

But this date could be more significant in other ways.

It was a long shot. A really long shot.

And you didn’t even know why you were attempting it. You almost felt disappointment in yourself for even going behind his back again. Had you not learned your lesson? But this was innocent, wasn’t it? You were only trying to access the internet to check your bank account and emails from job offers you had applied to.

But the lie settled uncomfortably in you.

You could’ve simply asked Jungkook for his permission to use his monitor or MacBook. You were positive he wouldn’t refuse.

As long as he hovered over your shoulder while you did and you wouldn’t be able to snoop like you really wanted to.

Your thoughts threw back the harsh truth. Jungkook’s computer was the only thing you hadn’t managed to snoop through in this entire apartment. Which meant that was the closet where all his skeletons must’ve resided in. Most at least. What you were looking for exactly you didn’t know. The more you circled around the reasoning you came to conclusion that it was more so you were seeking to make sure he hadn’t done something.

Something you were terrified he’d gone through with since the second he’d made the disturbing threat.

Walking down the long corridor, you felt your heartbeat in your ears with every step. You halted in front of his office door and let your fingers close over the doorknob to pull the door open. The office didn’t look any different from how you had last seen it. You hadn’t stepped foot back inside since your last failed attempt at unlocking his computer. There was a great chance this would be your second and last failed attempt.

Stepping inside, you let the heel of your foot shut the door behind you. As you neared his desk, your eyes fell on a couple of folders and papers laid out. You pushed his chair away from his desk and took a seat on it. A paranoid thought popped into your head and you whipped your head around to check every ceiling corner of the room.

Why were you doing this? You shouldn’t be doing this.

Your hands felt sweaty clasping the mouse, the movement lighting up the screen. You gulped as you typed in the numbers from the wrinkled paper in your hand. The little loading icon that followed made your stomach churn.

You held in a gasp when the screen suddenly displayed a word document and multiple other tabs popped up.

You were in.

An unknown sensation went over you as you tried not to sit on the fact that he’d really had made that his passcode. It made your heartbeat faster than it already was.

Somehow it made you feel more guilty for doing this. You fought the urge to get up and sprint out, forgetting you had even thought of this but you stayed glued to the seat.

It took you a second to process before you read over what he had been doing before he logged off. But it was just a bunch of work documents he’d been typing out. They had his father’s company’s name on them. He had so many files too, you weren’t sure you’d be able to go through them all. You glanced over at the time on the corner of the screen, you still had plenty of time before he was supposed to be back from his errand. He had gone to drop off his car to get it detailed.

Despite that , you kept wanting to look over your shoulder at any sudden sound. You were stiff as a board as you clicked off his word document and clicked on an unnamed file. You scrolled and scrolled, your eyes trying to find something that stood out but nothing did. They all seemed work related, some even dating back to what seemed to be his college days. You moved over to his emails, squinting to read over the ones with long paragraphs. It was simply him giving detail responses to a colleague it seemed and instructions on another one. All similar subjects to his documents. Scrolling down further, you eventually came across dates that were too far back but you paused as you saw a female name on one.

A wiser woman would’ve not clicked it but your curiosity was one of your many flaws. Your eyes narrowed at the flirty message. It had also been work related and it was dated far back about more than a year ago. It seemed to be a female colleague of his and the flirtatious nature of her message had seemingly been one sided due to Jungkook’s dry response. You felt satisfied reading his lack of enthusiasm towards her, it had made you unclench your tight grip on your mouse.

Why had that made you jealous?

You let out an impatient sigh as you clicked off his emails.

What were you even thinking? He didn’t do anything.

He had been bluffing. Hoseok was fine. His family was fine. It had only been a warning and nothing more. But that gut feeling wouldn’t go away, that awful doubt rearing it’s ugly bead.

How could you be sure? You bit your nail nervously as you stared at the screen. You shakily opened the browser and went to Instagram. Logging into your account, you quickly typed in his name and easily found his profile. You weren’t sure if he had ever followed you, you hadn’t opened your instagram in a while even back when you had your phone and you couldn’t remember if you had received a notification from him. It did surprise you that he had not blocked you entirely though.

You looked through his page. It was filled with the typical selfies and artistic photos but that wasn’t what you were looking for. Your eyes landed on his profile icon, the pink and orange lining around it. Holding your breath you clicked on his story . The first slide was a picture of a sunset he had taken somewhere. He was sitting down with a paper cup in his hand.

The next slide made your heart sink.

It was a black screen with two prayer emojis on the center and your eyes quickly read over the caption underneath it.

‘update: my sister’s condition is now more stable but please continue to keep her in your thoughts & prayers. thank you for all your support, our family needs it right now.’

You let out a gasp, your face twisting in complete shock at what you were reading. This couldn’t be real. You looked over at how long ago he had posted it.

9 hours ago.

You didn’t move.

How long had his sister been in the hospital? What type of accident had she been in?

A tear slipped down your cheek as you thought about Jungkook’s words that day. What he had promised. Had he really done it? No.

No it couldn’t be right? Your breaths became more shallow as you tried to keep your emotions in check.

But why? Why would he do this after you begged him not to? To an innocent person? How could he have done this.

Had it really been him? You thought over the possibility of it being a pure coincidence. A tragic one but one that didn’t involve Jungkook at all. But even you weren’t that foolish to believe in his non-existent nobility.

He had done it. He had gone through with it.

A shuddering breath left you.

Indescribable terror shook you. Any sort of benefit of the doubt you had given Jungkook was now gone. Vanished completely. Your chains didn’t feel so invisible now with the knowledge that Jungkook had kept every promise.

“If you think I’m such a monster, I promise I will show you how easily I can make that come true for you. ”

Had he meant for you to find out?

Had he meant to hide it from you?

You really hated how you weren’t sure.

A door slammed shut.

You nearly fell off the chair by how much your body jolted.

Jungkook was back early.

—-

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maboiisuga

3 years ago

storge, i.

. . . an affectionate love that slowly develops from friendship, base on similarity.

MINORS DNI.

—This series will have nsfw themes + scenes.

wc: 1.6k | hanamaki takihiro, matsukawa issei, camgirl!reader.

— fluff, angst, suggestive ; established relationship, slowburn, mentions of sugar mommy/sugar baby relationship, usage of ‘slut’+ so unlike oikawa’s series, this second four-parter is going to be heavily suggestive and will have nsfw scenes. only +18 kids are allowed in this one, i’m sorry. but the next one after this is more light and humorous and will have context on what happened here!

masterlist. ; tip jar ! ; next: storge ii.

It doesn’t surprise you when the iced tea splashes down thickly and cold down Matsukawa Issei’s head and neck. You saw it coming as soon as Makki elbowed you, looked up, and saw the darkened aura of her expression and the vice-grip she had on the glass.

“I hope you live a miserable life, Matsukawa,” she forced through gritted teeth and glittering eyes. She didn’t spare either you or Makki a glance as she walked out to her awaiting friends, giving out their own curses with their eyes as they took her in their arms and out of the mess hall.

Keep reading

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maboiisuga

1 year ago

“what do I have to do to earn your forgiveness? I’ll burn this entire fucking kingdom and rebuild it if I have too.” • masterlist

everything matters… Aurora

natures joint… (((O)))

mans world… Marina

everybody wants to rule the world… Lorde

crossfire… Stephen

playing with fire… Sam Tinnesz

the fruits… Paris Paloma

walk through the fire… Zayde Wolfe

ivy… Taylor Swift

lover. fighter… SVIRCINA

shum… Go_A

churchyard… Aurora

which witch… Florence + The Machine

in flames… Digital Daggers

labor… Paris Paloma

run boy run… Woodkid

spectrum… Florence + The Machine

too far gone… Hidden Citizens

seven devils… Florence + The Machine

towards the sun… Rihanna

artemis… Lindsey Stirling

carry me… Eurielle

52 notes View Post

maboiisuga

2 years ago

darknets | 03 yandere!jungkook au

pairing: yandere!jungkook x reader (f)

genre: yandere

warnings: 18+, obsessive & unhealthy behavior, spying, non-consensual videotaping, tormenting, graphic violence,( TW; human trafficking, heavy themes, non-con touching/groping, mentions of physical abuse )

word count: 14.5k

Playlist

A/N; i just want to make it clear, im no expert in criminology so forgive me if there’s inaccuracies, I tried to do my best with research but it’s purely fiction!

summary: You should’ve known better than to chat with strangers online…

Parts: 01 / 02 / 03

The paper cup was held tightly in his hand. He had dropped a tea bag inside , Chamomile. It usually helped with nerves. He watched the girl through the glass, she didn’t look particularly nervous but she did look distraught. The dark eye bags gave away the limited sleep she must have endured, her oversized hoodie making her look smaller than she really was. The added bad posture wasn’t helping either. Her shoulders were slumped, her arms resting on the table in front of her as she stared down at her hands.

Detective Namjoon sighed, opening the door which immediately caused her to turn her head over to him. He gave her a reassuring smile, passing her the cup as he seated himself across from her. His long limbs sat a bit awkwardly on the small chair but he squared his shoulders nonetheless.

“I understand you said she had been acting a little strange for the past few days.” He stated, maintaining a steady gaze on the girl.

“Did she have any mental health issues that you know of? Was she struggling with depression, anxiety or anything of the sort?”

Mina swallowed, bringing her eyebrows together in feigned concernment.

“No, not that I know of.” She explained, letting out another shaky breath. “ It’s just, she was acting really paranoid like, just off, you know?”

Namjoon listened, nodding slowly as another question sat on his tongue.

“Was she scared of someone perhaps? An ex-boyfriend, someone she was romantically involved with?”

“No, I mean the last boyfriend she had was over a year ago and he transferred to another college months ago.” Mina shook her head, then hesitated a bit. “But-“

The detective raised an eyebrow in question, eyes darting around her face as he silently urged her to continue.

“But..?” He added quietly, the girl seemed to be unsure of herself which wasn’t always a good sign. The behavior usually signaled she was holding back, knew a bit more than she was willing to confidently say or was afraid of saying it.

“She had a crush, a guy in our college.” She replied, frowning slightly. “ Jaehyun. I don’t why I brought it up, it’s just a stupid crush.”

Keep reading

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maboiisuga

1 year ago

three's a... - jean kirschstein x afab!reader x eren jaeger - 18+!!!

i feel like i have mentioned the possibility of giving y'all an erejean threesome way too many times to keep holding out on you, so now that i've finally nitpicked this fic to death, here we are!! literally living my dreams vicariously through this fic. i'm still not 100% happy with it, but eren and jean are sexy here and are doing half of the work of making this worth the read for me lolol. it's also written mostly through jean's pov which was interesting to play with.

pairing: eren jaeger x reader x jean kirschstein

wc: 6.5k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut, consensual hook-up, threesome, established relationship (eren's ur perfect bf and u guys can't stop having sex with jean lol), unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving), face fucking, rough sex, vaginal fingering, degradation, biting, dirty talk, penetrative vaginal sex, anal (fingering and fucking), swearing, use of names (slut, brat, pretty girl, good girl, angel), mean dom eren vs soft dom jean, multiple orgasm, dacryphilia/crying, creampie, double penetration, bicurious jean and bicurious eren (tasty, they definitely don't keep their hands to themselves), polyamory implied

buckle up, this was a blast to write and i hope it's equally as fun to read. enjoy <33

Jean should definitely not be here.

He should absolutely not be on his living room couch with Eren Jaeger’s girlfriend’s head in his lap, playing idly with her hair. By all traditional conventions and rules of exclusive relationships, Jean’s fairly sure that letting your girlfriend rest her head on the crotch of your roommate while he strokes her hair is on the no-no list. Not for Eren, apparently, who has your feet in his lap on the other end of the couch, playing with your toes absentmindedly and making you giggle and kick him in protest. Jean should not be here, but you and Eren have made a habit of roping him into circumstances that he would never admit to, not even at gunpoint.

If Jean is brutally, painfully honest with himself, he knows he had gotten himself into this. You were just so cute, wisping around their apartment in a big tshirt and tiny shorts in the mornings, always making sure to save him a cup of coffee. Maybe he had let his lingering glances linger just a little too long, smirked over his coffee mug at you one too many times, come up behind you to help you reach something on the top shelf and leaned a little too close, Jean couldn’t pinpoint exactly what caused Eren to notice his clear attraction towards you, but he did. Instead of getting his ass kicked like he had expected when you and Eren sat down to confront him, Jean had learned something.

Eren Jaeger has a greedy, spoiled brat of a girlfriend.

That had been the first time Jean came in you, fucking into your throat while Eren watched from across the room, palming over the bulge in his jeans. The second time, the two of you had invited Jean out for a drink, which, in hindsight, he should have seen the ulterior motive from a mile away. He had ended up cumming in your pussy, bending you over in the bar bathroom with Eren’s cock in your mouth. The third time had been in Eren’s bedroom as you rode him, Eren sitting behind you and working your hips over Jean’s cock as you wailed.

Jean had stopped his ministrations in your hair as he was reflecting on how exactly he got into this situation, trying very hard not to think too far into the filthy details to prevent propping your head up with an erection. You make a little noise of discontent, grabbing at his hands and urging them back to your hair.

“Jean, don’t stop. Feels good.”

Jean’s mouth tightens into a thin line at your choice of words, words he’s heard from you before under very different circumstances, but he obliges. So much for self control. Eren raises a smug eyebrow at him from across the couch.

“You’re giving her what she wants, right, Kirschtein?”

Jesus, you two are insatiable, still managing to grate on Jean’s razor-thin willpower with all of your clothes on. Jean wonders briefly what the appeal is for Eren, if he gets off on watching you take another man’s cock, bring another man near to tears with your warm, silken cunt. Does Eren enjoy dangling you in front of Jean until he’s forced to give in? Eren’s gaze lingers on Jean’s hands, threading through your hair, awaiting an answer.

“Yeah,” Jean says, not trusting any more words to his loose lips. They’ve already betrayed him three times now, saying yes when they should have been saying no.

“Good,” Eren responds simply, offering a small smile that, to anyone else, looks innocent. Jean knows Eren better than that. He watches as Eren’s hand travels up your bare leg, coming to rest on your upper thigh. You’re affected by it, such a simple touch, such a sensitive little body; he can feel you tense over his thighs.

Jean steels his jaw and forces his eyes back over to the movie. He’s got to stop playing these fucked up games of yours, it’s bad for him and he knows it. He hasn’t dated in months, not since you’d first pulled him into your little world, can’t bring himself to look at anyone else, can’t stand the thought of feeling anyone else’s skin under his fingers. His little crush has bloomed into full-blown lovesickness, and it would be best for him if he just stopped.

All of that ironclad willpower melts away in an instant when you let out a little moan.

Eren’s hand has snuck its way up to your shorts, nudging at the apex of your thighs. His focus is still trained on whatever reality show you’ve put on, completely ignoring the way you sigh under his touch. Jean’s cock twitches in his pants; this is his opportunity to hesitate, to say no, but he stays silent, only watching as you squirm in his lap.

“Eren,” your chastisement comes out as a breath. One of your hands comes to meet Eren’s, trying to push him away, but he simply swats your hand, shooting you a stern look.

“Behave,” Eren warns, eyes dark and dangerous. Jean’s learned that Eren’s mean to you, snappy when you put on your little attitude and fight back, but Jean doesn’t have the willpower. He holds you gently while he fucks into you hard, gives you anything you ask for.

You bite your lip and turn your head back to the TV, one hand coming up to pull Jean’s away from your head, wrapping your fingers around his. Jean’s breath hitches in his throat when you squeeze tight, back arching like you’re holding back a moan; Eren’s worked his way into your panties now, rubbing little circles over your clit.

“Look, Jaeger,” Jean makes a half-hearted attempt to remove himself, pulling his hand from yours and making all the movements to suggest he’s going to stand up, “I should–”

“What?” Eren cocks his head, as casual as if they’re discussing the weather. “Look at her, you really gonna just leave her there like that while I’m teasing her?”

Against his better judgment, Jean flicks his eyes down towards you. It’s a pitiful sight, your eyes already glossed over and staring up at him, wide and pleading, your bottom lip tucked in tight between your teeth.

“Jean,” his name comes out of your mouth, broken and already heady with arousal. That’s what snaps his resolve clean in two. You need him.

“What is it?” Jean hates the fondness in his voice, so glaringly obvious in front of your fucking boyfriend. Eren doesn’t seem to mind, though; he picks up speed, making you wriggle impatiently.

“Wanna kiss,” you whimper, reaching up towards his face.

“Don’t,” Eren stops Jean from leaning down, “she’s been bad today.”

“Is that so?” Jean rubs a thumb over your lips, frowning down at you. He can see the guilt in the way your brows knit together; oh, you have been bad, and you know it.

“Wouldn’t stop begging me for you, wanted to snuggle with Jeanie,” Eren raises his voice to mock you, slapping a hand against your clit and making you jump.

Jean’s face burns; is this it? Is this finally Eren telling him that you’re off-limits, finally deciding that Jean’s had his fill? And he’s going to rub it in his face by torturing you on Jean’s lap?

“Tell him,” Eren demands, another sharp smack landing on your cunt.

“Didn’t want to wait t-til you got home,” your face is already blotchy, eyes clouded with shame, “wanted Eren to text you and make you leave work.”

“And what did I say?”

“Be patient,” your voice wavers, Jean’s heart pounds in his ears, “and Jean would come take care of me.”

“So needy,” Eren tuts down at you, cruelly shoving a finger into your wet heat and instantly removing it, drawing a breathy whine from you, “see?”

Eren’s offering his finger to Jean, shining with slick, eyebrows lifted insistently. Jean narrows his eyes, cocks his head. What game is he playing at?

“What, don’t want a taste?” Eren’s eyes glint in the low light, taunting him. Jean leans forward hesitantly, lets the other man slide a thick finger between his lips. You always taste so good, salty and tangy; Jean feels a groan rumble deep in his chest. The corner of Eren’s mouth curls ever so slightly. Whatever game he’s playing, Jean’s losing. “Touch her, but no kisses. She has to behave if she wants that.”

You pout, bottom lip still wobbling where you’ve pushed it out, but you arch your back a little, straining your tits against your tank top. Jean knows you well enough by now, knows you chose that thin little top and didn’t wear a bra just for him, just to tempt him. You have been bad, but Jean doesn’t care, could never care when you’re looking up at him all sweet and needy. But he knows better than to disobey Eren’s rules, for your sake. Eren will edge you for the rest of the night, make himself cum, and leave you out to dry.

“Jean, please–”

“Sh,” Jean shushes you, sits you up just a little so he can pull your tank top over your head, “I’ve gotcha. Just be good for us, alright?”

You nod and smile drunkenly as he cups your breasts, kneading your nipples between his fingers. They’re one of his favorite things about you; he can’t resist leaning down to place sloppy, open-mouthed kisses along your hot skin, lick around your nipples just light enough to tease. Maybe Jean can be a little mean too.

“More,” you gasp, fingers coming to clutch at his head, “more, I– oh!”

Jean’s eyes flit down your body to see Eren’s now got two long fingers shoved knuckle-deep in you, curling them fast enough to make you cry out, roll your hips up towards him. If he looks closely, he can see a wet patch forming on the crotch of your shorts; it makes his cock throb. He’s never met a woman that gets as wet as you, filthy at the slightest touch.

“You’re so messy,” Jean voices his mind without exactly meaning to, pulling himself from you so he can prop you up against his chest and let you look at the mess you’ve made. You give him a little whine of protest, tilting your chin up towards him, searching for his mouth.

“Please, I want–”

“I know what you want,” Jean thumbs at your lip, “he’s mean, isn’t he? Making you behave yourself when all you want is a little love, isn’t that right?”

“Mhm,” you manage to shoot a scathing glare at Eren that makes Jean chuckle, makes Eren smack your thigh hard enough to echo throughout the room.

“Stupid little slut,” Eren growls, moving his fingers faster, “you’re just all about Jean because he spoils you, aren't you? Someone has to make sure you behave yourself.”

Jean’s eyes widen; Eren’s clearly in a mood today, and Jean hopes it doesn’t have anything to do with his presence. Eren’s a mixed bag most times. Jean’s overheard him making soft, quiet love to you, little praises slipping out from the crack in his bedroom door, but Jean’s also watched Eren edge you to the point of tears, spit on your cunt, spank you until you bruise. Maybe Eren’s jealousy finally is getting the better of him, Jean thinks, maybe he just can’t say no to your insatiable appetite, and he is actually pissed that you had begged him for Jean.

“Jean,” you’re clutching at his shirt, moaning pathetically as Eren sucks harsh bites into your thighs.

“Did it to yourself,” Jean shakes his head at you sadly, “you know better than to make him mad.”

“Shut her up,” Eren nods his head at your mouth meaningfully, “I’ve heard enough out of her for today.”

It takes some awkward repositioning, but Jean’s able to pull his cock out, tap it against your tongue where you’ve already got your mouth hanging open, drool pooling on his lap under your cheek.You shove yourself up with some effort, and take Jean almost to the hilt on your first go, slurping lewdly around him. Jean nearly chokes.

“Oh, you are needy today,” he hisses, threading his fingers through your hair, making sure his view remains unobstructed. “That what you wanted? My cock in your throat?”

You manage a stiff nod around him in between the muffled moans you’re letting out around his cock; Eren’s added his thumb to the mix now, pulling your panties to the side so he can swipe at your clit.

“She was fuckin’ drooling for it earlier,” Eren says, meeting Jean’s eyes with a smirk, “should have seen her, all pouty and sad because her Jeanie wasn’t here. Pathetic.”

In the small part of Jean’s brain that’s still able to think rationally with his cock nudging at your gag reflex, he’s frowning in confusion. Eren is pissed at you because you were begging for Jean, and here he is spurring Jean on in fucking into your throat. It makes no fucking sense, really, but Jean’s getting his dick sucked, and not for the first time, by the woman he’s been pining after for months, so who is he to question it?

“Mmph!” You squeal, mouth too full to form a real sound, hips canting up violently towards Eren. Eren laughs, low and cruel.

“Aw, I think she’s gonna cum soon,” Eren pulls his fingers from you, a tear slips down your cheek. “Pity.”

Your cry of protest is whimpered by Jean standing up slightly, angling his hips to plunge as deep as he can. He’s only had his cock in your mouth a few times, but Jean’s intuitive. He knows how much you can take, knows exactly how far to push you before it’s too much.

“Don’t whine, baby,” Jean huffs, “just gonna make him more mad. He won’t let me help you if you don’t behave.”

“Look at you,” Eren runs his hands along your thighs, leans down to press a chaste kiss over where you’ve ruined your shorts, “being a good girl for us. S’that what it takes for you to behave? Need both of us?”

If Jean’s not mistaken, the garbled sound you make around him is one of agreement. The thought goes straight between his legs, brings him far closer to the edge than he’d like to be at this point. He pulls your mouth off of him, making you pout.

“But–”

“I know, I know, you want it,” Jean rubs an affectionate thumb over your cheek, “but you want me to fuck you, too, right?”

“Please,” you breathe, reaching down to wiggle your shorts off. Eren’s face lights up.

“Wanna show him your little surprise, baby?” Eren’s tugging at your shorts now, ripping them off and tossing them to the sides. He puts his hands under your arms, yanking you out of Jean’s lap and throwing your chest over his shoulders. When Eren’s hands come to your cheeks, spreading them so Jean can see, Jean’s heart nearly stops. There’s a little pink rhinestone glittering where your asshole should be– a plug, keeping you open and ready. Eren meets Jean’s eyes, daring. “She picked it out just for us. Want us both, don’t you? Nasty little thing.”

Eren punctuates his statement with a grin and a sharp slap to your ass that makes you jump, nod desperately from behind him. Jean reaches a cautious hand over, puts two fingers around the toy and pulls lightly, just enough to watch it move in you. You whine; he can see your empty cunt flutter.

“Can she take it? Both of us?”

“Oh yeah,” Eren brushes off Jean’s concern, “been using all her little toys for weeks, making me practice with her. She can take it.”

With that, Jean’s standing, padding into his room and knowing Eren’s following with you still tossed over his shoulder. His head spins; you, his precious little toy, have been stretching yourself out, getting yourself ready to have two cocks in you? The thought nearly makes Jean moan to himself, imagining how tight you’ll be all stuffed full.

Eren’s thrown you on the bed none too gently, stripping as you look up at him, hearts in your eyes. He stops midway through pulling his clothes off to grab your chin, offer your pleading gaze to Jean.

“Why don’t you ask him, hm?” Eren coos, looking between you and Jean with a filthy grin on his face. “Ask him again, see if you’ve been good.”

“Will you kiss me, Jean? Please?” Your voice has that thin, fucked out tone to it that drives Jean crazy, makes him want to make you cry.

“Yeah princess, I’ll kiss you.” He leans down, takes your soft mouth in his, Eren never releasing his hold on your chin. Jean can taste himself on your tongue, smiling appreciatively at the salty tang. Eren rips you away far too soon, pressing his mouth down on you far rougher than Jean had. They balance each other well, Jean thinks, the gentle caresses and the sharp slaps that make you come undone under them in a way neither of them can manage alone.

“On your knees, brat,” Eren sneers, the shred of tenderness that he’d grabbed your face with long-gone, “convince us to fuck you stupid.”

You nod obediently, sliding off the bed and onto your knees, reaching for Jean. He steps forward, letting you hold his cock in your little hand, rub up and down while you take Eren in your mouth. Even your hands are enough to drive him crazy, so soft and supple around him; Jean’s head falls back.

“Fuck,” Eren sucks a sharp breath in between his teeth, “that’s it, baby, take it.”

Something possesses Jean, what it is he can’t be sure, but he reaches a hand down to the back of your head, pushing you further down Eren’s length. He half-expects Eren to chastise him for it, but Eren groans, long and loud, a sound that simmers in Jean’s stomach.

Jean watches the contractions of Eren’s abs, trails his eyes up to where the other man’s strong chest is heaving, a strange, hot sensation trickling through his center. It’s too late to look away once he realizes he’s been caught, but instead of finding amusement when he meets Eren’s eyes, Jean finds something else entirely.

Eren’s looking at Jean the way he looks at you, all lusty and uninhibited. Jean nearly scowls at him, everything he’s internalized over the years rearing its head in his chest, but Eren stops him with a hand wrapped around the back of Jean’s neck. In the blink of an eye, there’s a set of lips on his, a sharp tongue licking into his mouth.

Jean lets out a wanton, strung out moan that Eren swallows, echoes with one of his own. Jean notices that your head has stilled under his hand, and he shoves you back onto Eren’s cock mindlessly, relishing in the way Eren’s mouth stutters against his own when you retch around him. He trails his hand, tentative and exploratory, up to Eren’s hair, grabs the bun at the back of his head and pulls. Jean’s surprised at the heat beneath his palm; he’s always known Eren runs hot, especially after the last few times he’s fucked you. It’s only natural to brush arms, brush legs during the act, but Eren’s skin is scalding, damp with sweat under his touch.

It’s not Jean’s first kiss with a man, not by any means, but he’d never guessed that Eren, headstrong, manly, unreadable Eren, had this in him. Had it been hiding there for all of these years? Was it a spur of the moment thing, that Eren would look back on and cringe at later?

Doubt getting the better of him, Jean breaks first, pulls away with a quiet smacking sound. Eren’s eyes are just as wide as his feel, searching Jean’s face for any sign of regret, of satisfaction, of something. A loud whine from below distracts them both, and whatever odd moment was forming is broken as they look down at you.

Your chin is covered in drool from where you’ve been choking on Eren, gagging around him, and your eyes are glossy and needy. Jean’s cock gets impossibly harder.

“What?” Eren taunts. “You jealous that I kissed your Jeanie?”

“Yeah,” you pout, brows knitting, but Jean can see the arousal written into your features. You liked it.

“Get up,” Jean says to you, voice hard and unforgiving.

You follow his instruction, standing on shaking legs. Jean can see the snark in your eyes before it comes out of your lips. “What, finally going to pay attention to me now?”

As soon as the words have left your mouth, Eren’s hand is around your jaw, wrenching it open for him to spit into your mouth. “Don’t fucking talk back, not if you want to cum.”

“You were doing so good,” Jean rubs a hand over your hip, guiding you to lay on top of him on the bed, “what, are you that desperate for us that you can’t mind your manners?”

“I just–”

“Want both of your slutty little holes filled?” Eren scoffs, kneeling on the bed behind where you’re straddling Jean’s hips. “Yeah, we know.”

You frown and lean down to Jean, searching for consolation, but he shoves you to sit back up, admiring the way your chest bounces with the movement.

“Can’t be nice to you all the time,” Jean’s voice is low, dangerous, “not when you act like a brat.”

He can see the heartbreak on your face, revels in it, but it’s short lived. Your eyes fly open as Eren works the plug out of you, tossing it to the side and wrapping an arm around you to take your neck in his hand. Eren looks down at Jean, exchanges a conspiratorial smirk with him.

“Why don’t you ask Jean if you can sit on it while I work you open, hm?”

Your eyes glisten pleadingly at Jean, but something’s come over him. He realizes he likes drawing those begging moans out of you, likes holding you over the edge between the tips of his fingers. Jean shrugs.

“Show me how bad you want it.”

While Eren reaches over to scrounge around for the lube in Jean’s bedside table, you start to work your hips over Jean’s cock, slicking it up with how wet you already are. Jean grabs you by the back of the neck, pulls you to him to drink down the little whimpers and moans that escape your lips.

“Jean, please,” you sigh into his mouth, “I need you.”

Jean’s resolve wavers, but he stands firm. “Beg.”

“I–” hot tears of shame are welling in your eyes now, Jean wants to lick them from your cheeks– “please, I need it, need your cock in me, please, Jean.”

“What do you think, Eren?” As Jean asks the question, it strikes him just how often he refers to the other man simply as “Jaeger”, not by his first name. In his mind, ‘Jaeger’ is his friend of many years, and ‘Eren’ is the man that he had just inexplicably, passionately kissed. “Think she’s earned it?”

“Let’s see how she takes my fingers,” Eren replies, slicking his fingers up with lube and forcing two into your already-stretched hole with ease, making you squeak in surprise, “oh fuck, she’s already so stretched out for us. Yeah, give her what she wants, let her warm up to it.”

“Thank you, t-thank you,” you stammer, out of your mind with want as Jean slides the head of his cock into you with a long groan.

“Shit,” Jean growls, holding onto you tight to prevent your hips from pushing down on him too fast, filling you up too quickly with Eren’s fingers hard at work in your other hole. Maybe he is the nice one, after all. “So fucking tight for me, aren’t you?”

“Mhm, for you,” you hum, lip tucked in your teeth.

“Think she likes you more than me,” Eren smirks from over your shoulder, working a third finger into you and making your jaw drop. For his part, Jean bottoms out, hissing as you pulse around him. He can feel Eren’s fingers scissoring through your walls, eyes rolling back into his head at the sensation.

“You okay? Is it too much?” Jean notices one of those tears that had sparkled in your eyes earlier threatening to fall, grabbing your face and forcing you to look at him. You look beautiful, all stretched around him and fucked out, mind blank.

“It’s a lot,” you nod, sniffle, “but I’m okay, I can take him. Want to, want– need you both.”

Eren’s eyes darken, and Jean can feel him remove his fingers, feel the accommodating stretch of your walls able to breathe again. Jean takes your hips in his hands, rolling you along his cock to grant both of you some of the friction you desperately need. You mewl, leaning over to wrap your arms around his shoulders. Eren’s lining up behind you, running a soothing hand over your back.

“Deep breaths, baby,” Jean instructs you, holding you to his chest. You sniffle and nod into his shoulder, muscles tense and twitching.

“Tell me if it’s too much, alright angel?” Eren leans over to press a surprisingly tender kiss between your shoulder blades and gives Jean a signaling nod, which Jean returns.

Jean can feel it the moment Eren pushes in, feel your body stretching itself to accommodate both of them. You squeal into the skin of Jean’s shoulder that you’ve taken between your teeth, and it hurts, but he lets you, rubbing circles on your lower back.

“Doing so good for us, baby,” Jean hums, pressing his lips to your ear, “too much?”

You shake your head, whimpering as Eren pushes in further.

“God, she’s– shit, it’s so fucking tight,” Eren growls, jaw clenched and a little vein protruding in his neck from the effort of holding himself back, reining in the part of himself that just wants to snap his hips forwards into you.

“Yeah, she is,” Jean chokes out, feeling suffocated by the way you’re pulsing around him, by the pressure of Eren’s cock shoving at him. He’s not sure where he ends and where the both of you begin, if there’s even any separation between his skin and Eren’s and yours anymore.

“Feel so– full,” you hiccup, nails digging into Jean’s shoulders. Your watery voice makes Eren pause, rub a hand over your back.

“You doing okay, baby? How you feeling?”

“Feels….” you take in a deep, heaving breath, “good. Feels so good.”

Eren grins, something feral. “That’s our girl. So good for us, yeah?”

“You like being full, hm?” Jean can feel a smile mirroring Eren’s on his face.

He doesn’t miss Eren’s choice of words. Our girl. And you are their girl, you love being full of them. Of course you do. You’re their insatiable little plaything, so good at taking them in each of your holes. You love it, you love them.

“It’s– fuck, I’m in,” Eren’s staring at where you’re all connected. Jean wishes he could see, but the tightness of you around him is enough, the way he can feel Eren through your thin walls, pressing against his cock. Eren pumps his hips experimentally, and all three of you moan in sync.

“Pl-please move, Jean, fuck- no, Eren, just–” you’re babbling nonsensically, music to their ears.

“We’ve got you,” Jean hushes you, fucking his hips up into you and cutting you off, “just sit tight and be our good little girl, alright?”

“Oh g-god.” Your words wrench from you in a sob, jolting with the thrust of Jean’s hips up into yours. It takes some work, but soon enough, they’re pumping in and out of you at the perfect pace, synced up so you’re never empty, not for long. You’re wailing, voice scratchy from all the crying you’ve already done that night, clutching onto Jean like he’s your last lifeline.

“Feels so fucking good,” Eren grits out, digging his fingers into the flesh of your hips, “so good for us.”

“Not gonna last long, not like this,” Jean agrees, sitting you up so he can see you, see your wet cheeks and your open mouth, “so pretty like this, aren’t you? All stuffed full?”

“She loves it,” Eren growls over your pathetic, shaky moan of agreement, landing a smack on your ass, “fucking loves us, don’t you baby? Tell us, tell us how much you love it.”

“I-I love it,” you manage, voice wrecked, “love you— fuck- love you both so much.”

Jean’s eyes widen, roll back in his head a little. You’re so perfect, obedient and willing to take both of them, let them abuse your holes. The thought makes him bite down on the inside of his cheek, not willing to be the first to break and ruin this perfect moment.

“Jean, I– shit, I’m gonna cum soon,” Eren pants, pupils blown wide and mouth hanging open when he meets Jean’s eyes. “Make her cum.”

Jean nods determinedly, somehow finds the presence of mind to slide a hand in between your slick bodies, swiping at your clit insistently. Your body blooms for him, back arching as you throw your head back against Eren’s shoulder. He feels you clench violently around him, knows you’ve already been on the edge since they started with you, knows you won’t take much goading to break for them.

“That good?” Jean forced out through his clenched jaw, trying to keep pace with Eren amidst your vice-like grip on him.

“Yes, so fucking– oh my god, J-Jean, I’m– Eren,” you’re babbling, close to the point of hysteria, eyes blank and teary. Jean’s free hand wraps around your hip, grabbing hard at the flesh there. He’s so gone he barely catches it, just barely, but he notices Eren’s hand. Eren lays his palm over Jean’s, deliberate and steady, grabbing onto the other man’s hand and squeezing down. Jean meets Eren’s eyes, fucked out and hooded.

“Come on,” Jean rubs faster, harder, his eyes flitting back and forth between yours and Eren’s, “show us what a good fucking girl you are for us.”

Whatever was tethering you to your sanity falls away, and you cum harder than Jean’s ever seen, mouth hanging open in a silent scream as your muscles lock up, legs trembling on either side of Jean’s hips. He grips your hip harder, trying to maintain a pace so you can ride your orgasm out on top of them. Eren follows quickly behind you, biting into your shoulder with a loud, long groan. When Jean feels Eren’s cum leaking out of you, feels the mess they’ve made between your legs, he falls over the edge too, slamming your hips down into his and grinding up into you with a moan.

The three of you collapse into a heap of limbs and sweat and stickiness, chests heaving and muscles twitching. Jean can feel the burn of Eren’s skin and the slick, plush give of yours, enveloping him from every angle, and for the first time in months, he lets his eyes flutter shut, letting himself enjoy the simple pleasure of touch.

But nothing is forever, and after a few minutes, he feels you begin to stir between them, mumbling about needing to go to the bathroom. Eren reluctantly rolls off the bed to help you to the bathroom to clean up, leading you out on shaking legs. Alone again, Jean throws his hands over his face and sighs, deep and hefty.

He shouldn’t be here, he should have never let you both goad him into this.

It occurs to Jean that he needs some air; the apartment feels suffocatingly small knowing that both of you are only a few layers of plaster and a door away. He pushes through regret and self-doubt, pulling his sweatpants back on and scrounging around in his laundry basket of unfolded, clean clothes to find a shirt.

“What are you doing?” Eren’s suddenly in the doorway, scowling at him.

“Going out.”

“You worked this morning. What, do you have plans or something?” There’s a clear note of annoyance in Eren’s voice, but Jean’s too exhausted and shaky to look into it.

“Jean?” You, Eren’s shadow as always, peer around his shoulders, a cute little furrow of confusion between your brows. “Where are you going?”

Jean nearly growls in frustration, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Out. I’m going out.”

He hates the way you flinch, grab onto Eren’s hand for stability in the wake of his snapping at you. Eren speaks next, but Jean doesn’t recognize his tone; it’s firm, but somehow, it’s lacking Eren’s perpetually angry intonation.

“Sit.” Eren’s got one finger pointed to the bed, ordering him as if this isn’t Jean’s own room. He drags you over behind him, plopping on the bed as if you all do this every day. Jean glares at Eren, softens his eyes at the way you’re looking up at him invitingly.

“We just want to talk a little,” you pat the comforter, smiling softly. That breaks him, and against Jean’s better judgment, he’s sitting where you’ve indicated, t-shirt still fisted in his hands.

“About?”

“We don’t want you to think– well, this…” Eren gestures his hands between the three of you, frowning deeper, and eventually sighing, “I don’t know how to say it.”

You pick up for Eren, smiling at him. “We don’t want you to feel like you’re out of place here, that’s all.”

Jean cocks an eyebrow. “In my own bedroom?”

“No, asshole,” Eren rolls his eyes, “with…with us.”

“What does that mean?” Jean’s heart nearly stops. A small, soft hand over his makes his breath catch in his throat.

“We’re not, like, experienced with this, so maybe we’re doing this whole thing wrong,” you look to Eren anxiously, who nods at you reassuringly, “but…we have room for you. If you’re open.”

“Like…” Jean barely trusts his voice to carry above a breath, “in what sense?”

“It’s not just sex,” Eren mumbles, flushing pink, “to us, at least.”

“We like you,” you clarify, smiling again, “and however you want us, if you want us, at least, you can have us.”

Jean blinks stupidly, looks to Eren to see if his face betrays anything, anything that could explain the conversation taking place, if it’s a joke, if he’s unsure. To his surprise, Eren looks up at him, green eyes earnest and burning into his, and takes the t-shirt out of Jean’s hands, giving one of Jean’s hands to you and taking the other for himself.

“It works,” Eren says, finding some conviction, “whatever you want to call it, this works.”

“For both of you?” Jean can hardly believe his ears, can hardly fathom the feeling of your soft, delicate little fingers and Eren’s calloused palms wrapped around his hands.

“For both of us. But…does it? For you?” Your voice wavers, your nerves betraying you.

“I mean, I don’t know what it is. I don’t understand it,” Jean admits, positive that his eyes are comically wide in the face of this new information.

“Me neither,” Eren shrugs, “but we don’t have to be so serious about it–”

“Not for now at least,” you smile at Eren encouragingly, nodding and urging him to press on.

“Not for now,” Eren agrees, squeezing Jean’s fingers ever so slightly, the smallest, most tentative reassurance, “we can figure it out later.”

“If you want it,” you bite your lip, looking up at Jean through thick lashes, “want us. We won’t be upset if you say no. No pressure.”

Jean thinks for a moment, thinks about everything you’re offering him. You, who he’s pined after for months, so beautiful and sweet to him. He thinks about sharing coffee with you in the mornings, holding you tight to his body and drifting off to sleep, letting you play with his hair. He doesn’t know if he loves you, but whatever he feels is pretty damn close to it, close enough to drive him crazy and keep him up at night.

And Eren. He’s been friends with Eren for near a decade now, known him for as long as he can remember. What this agreement means in terms of his relationship with Eren, Jean hardly dares to press, knowing how Eren is: flighty, argumentative, brash. None of that is written into Eren’s features now, though; Eren’s watching him intently, earnestly, chest stilled as if he’s holding his breath, waiting for Jean’s answer.

Something old and something new mixed together into something entirely unfamiliar.

“We don’t have to put a label on it now, or even go through the semantics,” Eren’s voice is spent, nearly breathless.

“We’ll give you some space if you need–”

“No,” Jean cuts you off, looking between you both, “no, it’s– it’s just a surprise, that’s all.”

Eren snorts. “How many times do we need to fuck you before you get the hint?”

“Eren!” You slap his arm, looking between him and Jean meaningfully. “Not really the time for jokes, is it?”

“I mean, fucking in the bathroom of Scout’s isn’t exactly wining and dining me,” Jean rolls his eyes. Eren laughs at that, unintentionally tightening his grip around Jean’s fingers and making Jean’s heart thud a little in his chest.

“You two are beyond annoying,” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest. Eren and Jean exchange a wicked smirk.

“Regretting this already?” Eren teases you, digging his fingers into your side and making you giggle.

“Get over here,” Jean pulls you onto his lap, feeling emboldened to press a quick succession of kisses to your jawline, to your cheek. God, maybe he does love you, the weight of you in his arms feeling almost perfect. Eren leans over and tackles you both, tickling you wherever he can reach, Jean pinning you to his chest despite your protests and thrashing.

That’s what’s missing, Jean realizes. It’s not about you and Jean, or you and Eren, or he and Eren. He understands Eren’s bluntness earlier: the three of you just work, regardless of the weirdness of it all or the awkward conversations that lay ahead. It works, and for now, that’s enough.

Eren relents in his torture, scooting up the bed and dragging you with him, pulling Jean’s covers over you both like he’d done it a hundred times. Jean’s last little inkling of self-doubt perseveres, and he hesitates, until Eren tosses the covers on your other side back, patting the sheets meaningfully. Jean swallows his pride, swallows his insecurity, and pulls you into his side, very mindful of Eren’s arm tossed over both of your shoulders, of Eren’s fingers weaving absentmindedly through the hair at the nape of his neck.

And in the morning, when Eren mimics Jean’s loud snoring and you’re playfully throwing little crumbs of toast at them over the counter, the little voice in Jean’s head that had warned him to keep his distance will be completely silenced for the first time in months.

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maboiisuga

1 year ago

much ado about nothing chapter 6 - plug!eren x reader - 18+!!!

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. minors and ageless blogs, please do not read below the cut.

ummmmm HIII so sorry i know i still owe you guys a million drabbles and i haven't been posting as much but this chapter is just chock-full of drama and i'm so excited to share it bc hehehe it's a rollercoaster. also we should def stop listening to sasha. sneaky posting; have fun babies!!!! i cannot WAIT to hear your thoughts

specific cws: alcohol use, violence (like fist-fighting level not insane), mentions of drugs, swearing, incredibly awkward tension lol

-

“The course of true love never did run smooth.” A Midsummer Night’s Dream by William Shakespeare (Act I, Scene 1)

You’ve done a lot of partying in your days, but you never thought a hangover could float over your shoulders for damn near two weeks. Then again, maybe that rancid taste in your mouth is regret instead of the practical gallons of liquor you’d guzzled that night.

Historia tells you to delete the evidence, have a glass of wine with your friends, focus on your studies, put meaning back into the happy distractions that make up life. Sasha tells you to suck it up, download Tinder, do something other than wallow in your bed with nothing on but the fairy lights along your ceiling. Ymir tells you men aren’t worth embarrassing yourself for, maybe start swinging the other way, that she knows a few very pretty single ladies.

You meet all of their advice with a slow nod, sometimes a chuckle, put your head down, and go about your business, letting the shame follow you around like a little rain cloud from building to building around campus. Even your students have noticed something’s making you tick; Falco and Gabi left a package of Crumbl cookies in your office the other day, and for the first time, Zofia has begun to raise her hand in class. It’s heartwarming, really, but it doesn’t solve your problem.

Problems would be the better term for it. To start, there was your royal fuck-up with Eren. You had over-indulged and gotten a little too flirty to be “friends”, sure, it happens, but something had snapped in you when you saw Eren with that leggy blonde hanging all over him at the club.

Breeze. Even wearing naught but a skirt and some thin tights with the early winter wind whipping around your legs, just the thought of her name makes your blood boil. She was perfect, all bouncy and easygoing and cool, hippie clothes. To be fair, she was the one with the true claim on Eren; you had dug your own grave, far too confident in your ability to be just friends with someone so…so Eren.

Your friendship had been growing closer and closer by the passing day before that night, texting at nearly every minute of the day and spending time together wherever you could fit it in your full schedule. You had made plans to bake Christmas cookies together, even despite Eren’s protests that Christmas was a “capitalistic hellhole of a holiday season”, had acted out your favorite Shakespeare scenes in your pajamas, much to Eren’s amusement, and had made a habit of staying up late into the night watching and rewatching your favorite animes, heatedly debating characters. It had been butterfly-inducing, dizzying, perfect. Until you had indulged in one too many shots and humiliated yourself, that is.

Seeing Breeze all over Eren had made you realize the severity of your mistake trying to keep Eren in your life, realize the warm feeling blooming in your chest every time he grinned at you, all teeth and his little chin dimple, was decidedly much more than a platonic appreciation for a new friend. It turned out that you’d been right from the start; you weren’t his type, and to make matters worse, his actual taste in women had been thrust in your face unexpectedly.

When you had awoken the next morning, debating on whether to fall back asleep immediately or dash to the toilet, Historia had greeted you with a sorry smile, a cup of coffee, and a quiet word of advice to look through your phone. Knowing your drunken self, you pulled up your phone calls first, wanting to make sure you hadn’t accidentally Facetimed your mom to tell her how much fun you were having or something cringe-worthy of the sort. But no, of course it had to be much worse than that.

There was a phone call– to Eren. Your call log had recorded a one minute and thirty-six second phone call between you and Eren, one you obviously didn’t remember making.

“Please tell me you were with me when I called Eren,” you groan, so naive, “did I completely embarrass myself?”

Historia blushes. “Well, he didn’t answer, if it’s any consolation–”

“Oh, thank god–”

“But that didn’t exactly stop you,” Historia fiddles with the edge of her t-shirt, “you left him a voicemail.”

Even through your throbbing headache, you shoot right up out of bed at that. “What?! What did I say?”

“I don’t know,” Historia moans woefully, putting her hands over her face, “I’m sorry, I tried to stop you, but you ran off as soon as you started talking. By the time I caught up to you, you were already hanging up.”

“So, there’s a voicemail from drunk me on Eren’s phone, and neither of us have any idea what it says?”

“Correct.”

“My life fucking sucks.”

“It’s about to get a whole lot worse,” Historia says, throwing your sheets back and snuggling beside you in the bed, burrowing her face in your shoulder, “check your texts.”

And oh, had it gotten worse. Your drunken, foolish text sat in your outbox, unanswered, unread, and inexcusable. Six months later and you were right back where you started, begging a ghost of a man to explain why he couldn’t love you.

> hi luke, i’m sorta ficked up, but i misz you. why did yoi never call me???? you owe me at leasttg that. a fcking explanation,.

Storming through campus, coat tucked around your shoulders against the biting chill, you wince at the memory. You haven’t deleted the unanswered text yet, keeping it stale in your phone as a reminder of what happens when you get too attached to people you know aren’t good for you.

You thought you’d be more heartbroken over the text to Luke and its lack of an answer, but surprisingly, you’re not. It’s Eren haunting your thoughts, Luke’s just the placeholder for all of your anger at this point. Eren isn’t to blame for all of this, you are, and that’s why you can’t bring yourself to face him, can’t bring yourself to answer any of the hesitant texts he’s sent you since that god-awful night.

You’re not in college anymore, you have to keep reminding yourself. You’re twenty-four, and you’d like to think you’re past the phase of your life where you’re handing your heart out to anyone that passes like it’s a Costco sample. You aren’t even sure if you want Luke anymore at this point, if you could even speak to him if you bumped into him these days. He had, admittedly, treated you like dirt, wrenched your heart out from your chest and left it on the sidewalk to collect dust. At least you can hate him, hate what he did to you, hate that you’re stuck on him like a broken record skipping to the same chorus every few weeks.

You can’t hate Eren, though. You can be disappointed in him for entertaining his terrible ex-girlfriend, not aloud of course because he hadn’t actually mentioned her to you himself, but you can do it internally. Even that isn’t enough to make you feel better; not only had he not trusted you, not felt safe or comfortable enough with you to share the skeletons in his closet, but he was likely zooming full-speed down a dead-end street, the way Sasha tells the story. Your heart aches for him out of a painful mixture of pining and fervent concern.

Your only solution so far has been to dive headfirst into your coursework and your students; it hasn’t done much to distract you, but with finals on the horizon, it’s not the worst method of coping you’ve come up with in your days.

Your newly invigorated dedication to your work and your courses are the cause of you dragging yourself across campus to 104, desperate for caffeine and practically a corpse after two weeks of near-constant self-shaming keeping you up at night.

The smell of the coffee shop, earthy and warm, hits you almost as hard as the blasting heat inside, and you practically slouch upon entering, the weight of the cozy atmosphere cocooning you like a warm blanket. If there’s one place that will always feel like a hug, it’s 104 Beans, your coffee shop of choice (and obligation, considering the small size of your campus) for the last six years.

Pieck, your favorite barista, greets you in her typical dreamy manner. “Hi love, same as usual?”

“Hey Pieck,” you greet her with a weary smile. As you dig around in your bag for your wallet, the extent of your exhaustion versus the amount of work you have left to do surfaces in your brain. “Actually…no, not my usual. Can I get a quad shot Americano?”

Pieck pauses where she’s scribbling onto a paper cup with a Sharpie, eyes flitting back up to you in disbelief. “A quad shot Americano?”

“A quad shot Americano.”

“Jesus,” Pieck sighs, eyes wide, “work’s that rough, huh? Black coffee not going to cut it?”

“The shakes will be worth it,” you confirm, swiping your card through the machine.

“Can I please make it a cappuccino then? You’re going to need something creamy to get all that espresso down,” Pieck looks back up at you, eyes pleading.

“Fine,” you sigh, “but–”

“Almond milk, I know,” Pieck winks at you, sliding your cup down the assembly line of baristas working amongst the hissing of the espresso machine and the pleasant, folky music floating from the speakers. “We’re a little busy, so give me five and I’ll bring it over to you.”

You smile gratefully and collect your things, turning to scout out what’s hopefully a quiet table in the corner, when a pair of arms tossed around your shoulders stops you. The familiar scent of fruity perfume tickles your nose, and you slump against the tight grip in relief.

“You made it out of the house!” Sasha’s eyes glow with pride, as if you’d just run a marathon.

“It’s not like I’m a hermit,” you roll your eyes, “I have class five days a week.”

“You don’t go anywhere besides class or your house though, so you still get participation points,” Sasha grins, shaking your shoulders, “how are you feeling?”

“Well…”

Sasha’s expression crumples. “Still that bad, huh?”

“The Luke thing was pathetic of me, but honestly, it’s not haunting me as much as I thought it would,” you admit, pausing for a moment to allow Sasha to grab her coffee from the barista when her name is called, “the one thing that’s really sticking with me is the Eren issue.”

“Like, the voicemail? Or Breeze?”

“Both. I would give anything to know what that voicemail said, but whatever was going on between us aside, I just hope he’s okay, y’know? With Breeze back in the picture and everything.”

Sasha bites into her bottom lip and glances around the coffee shop, checking every face at every table. You know that face; she’s hiding something.

“What?”

“What?” Sasha cocks her head innocently. You nearly smack her.

“You’re not telling me something.”

“Uh…okay, yeah, I’m not, but I’m not sure if I should. I mean, you’re actually out of the house–”

“I leave my house plenty!”

“You know what I mean,” Sasha scoffs, “it’s just…if you’re feeling better, I don’t want to throw you back into the deep end.”

You have no words for that, absolutely despising the way that she is completely correct. Whatever information lies behind Sasha’s bitten lip could either make you feel a hundred times better or a hundred times worse, and you’re stuck debating on whether you should gamble or not when Sasha makes the decision for you.

“Fine, you wore me down,” she sighs.

“I didn’t even say anything,” you point out, raising an eyebrow.

“You don’t have to,” Sasha says, annoyed, “you have this, like, fucking puppy dog look. Makes me sick. Get your coffee, I’ll find a table, and we can talk.”

Like clockwork, the moment Sasha steps away, Pieck grabs your attention and hands your coffee over along with an extra hot cup half-full of steamed almond milk. You look at her questioningly, and she merely shrugs.

“That’s a lot of espresso. I know you’re in, like, your depressed writer phase right now, but I figured a little extra milk would come in handy.”

“You’re the best,” you smile at her affectionately, thinking absentmindedly that you should invite her out to Scout’s sometime. Before she can respond, Pieck’s gaze lands on something just over your shoulder. You can smell him even before you turn around, musky cologne and a little hint of weed. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

“Hey Pieck. Usual?” His throaty timbre cuts through the thick air, sharp as a knife. Pieck nods politely and gets to work on his coffee, forgoing a trip to the cash register. That tracks; Pieck’s hooded eyes are bloodshot more often than not.

“Excuse me,” you mutter, trying to sneak around him, but Eren’s quicker than you, side-stepping to cut you off.

“Hey stranger,” he smiles down at you, but it’s tense, nervous, “trying to run off on me?”

“Didn’t even realize that was you, sorry,” you lie, offering him a thin smile in return. You spot Sasha gaping at you across the cafe, waving her arms wildly and mouthing What the fuck?. You can’t help but feel similarly.

“It’s been awhile, how are you?”

“M’fine, just really busy with school.” God, you hate this, this awkward small talk barely parsing its way through the jungle of things left unsaid between you two. “You?”

“Fine,” Eren looks around awkwardly, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Good,” you speak directly into your coffee, unable to stomach the emerald green peering down at you.

“You know,” Eren’s words come out quite like he can’t believe he’s saying them, “I kinda thought you were avoiding me.”

“Did you?” Your voice is caught in your throat, coming out in a pathetic squeak. Has he heard the voicemail? The startling turn the conversation’s taken must be visible all over your face, because Sasha’s flailing arms beckoning you over to the table grow more urgent.

“You haven’t texted me back, haven’t seen you in a couple weeks,” Eren’s incredibly focused on his shoes, kicking one Vans sneaker idly back and forth on the floor and making a squeaking sound, “so yeah, sort of.”

“I’m busy,” you deadpan, praying to any god you can remember the name of that you’ll just disintegrate right where you stand. Eren meets your eyes again, smirks disbelievingly.

“You said that.”

Something in his tone annoys you, something about his insinuation that he knows you’re blatantly lying, that he’s teasing you over your embarrassment, ignites a little flame in your chest. You scowl at him.

“I mean, you must be pretty busy too.”

“Why’s that?”

“Breeze just got back into town, didn’t she?” No going back now. Eren’s face blanches for a moment, features growing pale, but he manages to school his face back into that nonchalant pout that you want to slap right off his face.

“Historia told you?” He doesn’t sound surprised; in face, he sounds almost expectant, like he knew you’d find out at some point. It stakes the embers burning in your chest.

“She’s my best friend, so yeah.” This feels like an argument. It shouldn’t be an argument, but your clipped tone is pushing it in that direction. You’ve spent the last two weeks reminding yourself that you have no claim on Eren, no reason to be hurt or upset, but here you are, feeling that familiar rush of anger coursing through your veins.

“I mean, we haven’t been hanging out or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Who said I was worried?”

Eren’s eyebrows knit together, a little frown playing at his mouth. “I don’t know, I mean–”

“Look, Sasha’s waiting for me,” you point over Eren’s shoulder to the little two-top table, where Sasha has stilled within the blink of an eye, shooting Eren an innocent smile and a little wave. “I’d love to catch up, but maybe another time.”

“It was good seeing you.” Eren looks confused, albeit, a little bit hurt, and you hate it. Why is that so much worse, even worse than the sight of him with Breeze hanging off of his arm? His little pout puts a needle through your ballooning anger, and you deflate, sighing.

“I’ll see you around, I’m sure.”

“Yeah,” Eren takes his coffee from Pieck and ambles towards the door, sparing you one last glance over his shoulder. Unwilling to hold his eyes any longer, you scurry to your table, just having realized that Pieck forgot to put a coffee sleeve around your cup and that it’s been burning your hand for the last several minutes.

“Ow! Shit!” You practically crash land across from Sasha, dropping your cups in synchronicity and shaking your red palms around in the air to cool them down.

“What was that?” Sasha hisses, leaning across the table so viciously that your drinks nearly topple over.

“He just showed up!”

“You didn’t have to talk to him.”

“I didn’t try to. He just, like, materialized behind me and started talking. What was I supposed to do? Run away?”

“Little shit,” Sasha swears, glaring at the door as if her anger can shoot through it like a laser beam, cut Eren down where he’s surely almost a block down the street by now, “what did he say?”

“He asked if I’ve been avoiding him," you say, twirling your wooden coffee stirrer through your drink idly and trying to look as if your heart’s not still beating at what’s sure to be a dangerous rate.

“Well, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. He got all smug about it,” you scoff, the replayed scene of Eren’s self-assured smirk wiping off of his face bringing you a little bit of petty satisfaction, “until I brought up Breeze.”

Sasha’s eyes grow wide, and she looks around the coffee shop again, as if Eren or Breeze might come popping out of one of the large potted plants in the corners. “That’s actually what I wanted to tell you. What did he say about it?”

“What did you hear?” You narrow your eyes at her, and she narrows hers back.

“You first.”

“He didn’t say much, just looked really surprised that I brought her up. Said they haven’t been hanging out.”

“That’s bullshit,” Sasha snorts, rolling her eyes. Something in your chest that had begun to glimmer, something akin to hope, feels like it just got a bucket of ice-water poured over it. You cock your head, furrow your brows.

“How would you know?”

“Because Hitch and I grabbed some coffee–”

“Hitch? I thought that was a–”

“Okay, don’t crucify me, I know,” Sasha holds her hands up defensively, “it was supposed to be a one night stand, but…I don’t know. She’s cool.”

“Cool?” Even through your desperation for anything Eren-related after a two week drought, you smile knowingly at her. Sasha’s not hard to read, especially when her face goes bright red from chin to forehead.

“Yes,” she hisses, “cool. Anyway, we came by a few days ago, and Eren was here. With Breeze.”

“I mean, I expected as much.”

You’re lying, you’re so lying. The only consolation you’ve had over the last two weeks that you’re not a complete moron is the hope that maybe, just maybe, Eren’s just as forlorn as you, laying around and wishing his phone would buzz with your name on it, wishing you’d pop up at his door with a bag of popcorn ready for movie night. Instead, your worst suspicions have been confirmed, and not only is Eren very much involved with Breeze again, but he had lied straight to your face about it. Ouch.

“They weren’t like, holding hands or anything. Honestly, it looked like they were fighting.”

“Well, what did Hitch say about it?” You don’t even know if you want to know, but with your brain short-circuiting inside your skull, your mouth has free reign to seek out information that will be about as soothing as lemon juice on a papercut.

“Eren won’t talk to any of them about her,” Sasha burns her tongue on her coffee and sucks in a sharp breath, “not even Armin, apparently. She said he’s been moody lately.”

“Wonder why,” you mumble, mulling all of this new information over in your head. Breeze is bad for him, makes him crazy, you already know that. But you didn’t think it would start this soon– you feel like if anything, he should be ecstatic that his long-lost love has finally come back to him. And he can stop trying to replace her, your brain adds helpfully, only doubling the watery ache swelling in your chest.

“Who cares?” Sasha rips open a granola bar, biting into it and continuing to speak with her mouth full. “That’s why you’ve got to stop avoiding him.”

“Huh? That seems like the opposite–”

“No,” Sasha cuts you off, an air of authority in her normally chipper voice, “you’re not going to cower in the corner just because Eren’s back with his shitty ex girlfriend–”

“It’s not just because of Breeze,” you correct her, “it’s because of that voicemail. I have no idea what I said. There’s a lot that’s contributing to my self-induced isolation, trust me.”

“Regardless,” Sasha mouths around another bite of her granola bar, “the only thing that will make you feel better is being around him.”

“That sounds a little contradictory–”

“Trust me,” Sasha interrupts you again, “the best way to make a guy come around is to be up in his face, flaunting how hot and single you are, and to not give him an ounce of your attention. It’s a tried and true method, I promise.”

It turns out that you are a beacon for those with bad ideas, evidently, because later that night, you’ve ended up at Scout’s, cuddled up against the bar with Sasha despite Historia’s fervent protests. If Historia shows up later, just to “check in” (read: see what’s come of Sasha’s terrible plan), you won’t be surprised. She’s prone to being the mom friend and the harbinger of gossip, but she hasn’t shown face quite yet. It’s just you, Sasha, and a handful of regulars, sipping unreasonably cold beers and trying to act as if the early December chill hasn’t rattled you to your bones.

“This is a stupid idea,” you murmur against the lip of your bottle, trying not to seem as unnerved as you are, even after an hour of waiting and sipping. Sasha scoffs beside you, picking through your near-empty basket of peanut shells in search of a full pod.

“It’s not. He’ll be here.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you dragged me out. It only took a week for me to start missing this place,” you run a thoughtful hand along the varnished wooden bartop, “but I’m just still not sure about this whole seeing-Eren-on-purpose thing.”

Before Sasha can answer, the door swings open to reveal the man in question: Eren, accompanied by Armin and Connie, as always, and sporting his standard uniform. Black hoodie, slouchy khaki pants that are tightened around the ankles, and his beat-up Vans.

You nearly sigh into your drink at how delicious he looks, only stopping when the little voice in your head reminds you that the voicemail you’d left him exists. Friends– no, strangers now? The concept of labeling your bizarre, gray-areas-only relationship with Eren brings a chuckle up your throat, one that spills onto the bar.

You can feel him watching you, but to your simultaneous surprise and disappointment, he gives you space, sidling up to the bar a few seats down from where you and Sasha are occupying a couple of bar stools. When Connie throws up a cheerful hand in greeting to you, you tentatively wave back, only for Armin to grab Connie’s attention and turn him toward the bar.

“Ha!” Sasha says triumphantly, looking at you with her eyes glowing like you’re supposed to have reached a revelation of some sort. “See?”

“Did you plot this with Connie?” You narrow your eyes in suspicion.

“No, I’m just a genius, that’s all.”

“I feel like your theory is being proven wrong, not right. He’s not even sitting near us.”

“Because you have the upper hand!” Sasha grins.

“The upper hand?”

“Yeah, he’s giving you some space so you can make the first move, get what you want out of him.”

“And what do I want out of him?” You nearly growl in your frustration, feeling silly sitting exactly four barstools down from Eren with him running through your mind as if he isn’t close enough to just hop up and hug. It’s a genuine question more than a rhetorical one; you’re not even sure what you expect out of him anymore. Another fuck? A fancy date night? A lifetime worth of radio silence, as if Eren isn’t the person you’ve connected better with than nearly anyone else in your romantic history?

Sasha’s brows furrow. “Don’t you know?”

“No! That’s what I was trying to tell you!”

“Oh,” Sasha frowns, rubs her chin, “we should have figured that part out before we came, I guess.”

“Sasha!” You whisper-hiss, ever mindful of what you’re sure to be prying ears only a few feet away. “So you have no plan?”

Sasha stumbles, stutters, and eventually, flushes bright red with a shrug. “Okay, fine, I have no plan. But at least it’s something to break up your routine of laying in bed eating chips and moping around the library.”

“You’re such a bitch.” You roll your eyes, but you don’t mean it, not really. Regardless of how things stand, at the very least you can sneak little glances at Eren, take in how good he looks– no, you correct yourself firmly. You hopped off that train of your own accord, and you’re better for it.

With some verbal manhandling, you goad Sasha into a lull of small talk, classes, anything that comes to mind. A pair of eyes finds you, not the emerald that keeps you up at night, but a pair of hazel old-and-new eyes draw to you, and you can feel the scratch of an unwelcome gaze on your skin.

“Floch’s here,” you state the obvious, sipping your drink and giving no physical indication that you’ve noticed him, staring straight ahead as you mutter to Sasha.

“Christ, this was not a good idea,” Sasha groans, face-palming.

“Wow, I sure wish that someone had suggested this was a bad idea, wouldn’t that have been nice?”

“Shut up,” Sasha says, peeking warily over her shoulder, “I think that’s Hitch in the corner, too.”

You frown, confused at the hunched, anxious change in her posture. “Why are you being weird? Go say hey.”

“I’m not abandoning you!”

“Oh, shut it. Why are you really being weird?”

“I, uh…” Sasha twirls her beer around on the counter, blushing, “I haven’t texted her back in like, four or five days.”

“Sasha! You like her, I can tell. What’s gotten into you?”

“It was supposed to be a one-night thing,” Sasha moans, letting her face fall dramatically into her hands, “and then it was movie nights and coffee and just…way beyond casual hooking up. I like her, but…I don’t know! I panicked.”

You chew on her admission for a second, selfishly comparing Sasha’s situation to your own. Was that what you were doing with Eren? No, surely not, but was that what he was doing with you? You knew he had loved Breeze, that she had wrecked him, but maybe…just maybe some small part of you wants to hope that he’s moved on, that the coffee shop sighting was a fluke.

You shoo Sasha in Hitch’s direction, demanding she run over to apologize and make nice with Hitch, partially to save Sasha’s first shot at a real relationship in years and partially because you want to stew alone with your thoughts. Before you can get too deep into your black hole of what ifs, a familiar presence is sliding into Sasha’s seat, grinning lewdly.

You sigh; it was only a matter of time before he sought you out.

“What do you want, Forster?”

“Last name only? Ouch,” Floch places a hand over his heart, drumming the fingers of his other hand on the countertop. You recognize his demeanor immediately: pupils blown wide, buzzing to the brim with nervous energy. Floch’s always dabbled in party drugs, part of why you could only stand to be around him in small doses back when you were hooking up.

“Are you coked out right now?” Mindful of Levi’s hovering presence behind the bar, you keep your voice to a low hiss.

“So you can’t call me by my first name, but you can ask such personal questions? Jesus, you really are full of it, aren’t you?”

“Floch,” you nearly groan in frustration, “I thought I made it perfectly clear the last time I saw you that I’m not interested.”

“Why are you being so mean to me, hm?” Floch snakes a hand around your shoulders, jostling you until your face is mere inches from his. You’re more than aware of a pair of green eyes nearly boring a hole in your forehead, and you feel a pang of regret that you sent Sasha away so quickly, remembering far too late that Hitch’s table doesn’t offer a great view of where you’re seated at the bar.

“I’m not being mean,” you try to push at him, but he’s locked around you, “I’m just not interested.”

“Stop being such a bitch, Jesus Christ,” Floch finally lets you shove him away from you, but he’s far from done, “when did you get so stuck up, huh?”

“Floch. Keep your voice down, and walk away.” You try to warn him; Floch may be a pain in your ass, but you’d like to believe that he’s not a bad guy, deep down. You’re too late, however.

Eren’s materialized between you and Floch before you can blink, before you can even get another word out. His sudden presence forces you out of your barstool, stepping around him to get a better read on what the hell he thinks he’s doing. Eren seems not to notice you trying to insert yourself between him and Floch, and the look on his face makes you step back momentarily.

He looks terrifying. Eren’s nostrils are flaring, eyes blown wide and jaw clenched tight. He’s taking full advantage of his height, glaring down at Floch with such menace that if looks could kill, Floch would already be laid out on the floor.

“Get the fuck out of here, dude. She said no.”

“What are you, her little guard dog?” Floch, infamous for never knowing what’s best for him, scoffs at Eren’s incredibly intimidating posture.

“Maybe I am,” Eren sneers, “I’m damn sure not going to sit there and let you speak to her like that.”

“Who’s this loser?” Connie’s to your right now, gesturing to Floch. You don’t miss the telltale clenching of Eren’s hands by his side, and it hits your dizzied mind what’s going on. Eren’s going to end up swinging if you don’t interfere, and Connie’s there for backup.

“Floch, please.” You reach a feeble hand up to Floch’s chest, trying to gently push him in the other direction.

In the blink of an eye, Floch’s grabbing you by the wrist hard enough to solicit a yelp from your lips, throwing your arm away from him with a look of disgust.

“Oh, so now you want to touch me, bitch?”

No sooner has Floch’s hand released your arm than Connie’s got his arms wrapped around you, yanking you out of the crossfire. Amidst a series of gasps, Eren grabs Floch around the back of the neck, pins him face-first to the bar.

“Jaeger!” Levi barks sharply, darting over to the scene of the commotion.

“Is that what gets you off, huh?” Eren’s nearly nose-to-nose with Floch, whose busted lip is twisted in a grimace and dribbling little bits of blood onto the varnished bartop. “Calling women bitches when they don’t want your little dick?”

“Let him go, Eren,” Armin tries to intervene, having already dashed over from his barstool. You want to back him up, but you’re frozen where you’re pinned to Connie’s chest, trembling in his arms. You know Eren’s a little rough-and-tumble, but this, seeing it in real life, is much more terrifying than you could have imagined.

“What the hell? Are you okay?” You can hear Sasha’s voice from beside you, close enough to touch but distant in comparison to where your vision is zeroed in on Eren’s grip on the back of Floch’s neck.

“Answer me!” Eren rears Floch back a few inches and slams him against the bar again. Floch curses under his breath, wriggles fruitlessly under Eren’s weight.

“Get the fuck off me, Jaeger!”

“You fucking wish,” Eren hisses, tightening his grip further, “now apologize to my girl before you make me do something I’ll regret.”

“Eren,” you find your voice again, shaking out of Connie’s grip. You fist your hands into Eren’s hoodie sleeves, tugging hard enough to get his attention. “He’s not worth it. Let him go.”

“Listen to her, Jaeger,” Levi’s already-deep voice is stained with warning.

When you pull at his sleeve a little harder, Eren turns to you, eyes still blown wide and teeth bared. It startles you, but you hold firm, setting your own jaw and shaking your head.

“Let. Him. Go. Now, Eren.” You’re not sure how you’ve managed to muster up the conviction in your voice, but you’re grateful for it, as it seems to shake Eren back into himself. Eren slowly releases Floch and in the same easy motion, he guides you behind him with one long, strong arm.

“You,” Levi points accusingly at Floch, “out.”

Floch’s jaw drops. “I didn’t even–”

“Out.” Levi’s tone leaves no room for argument, and Floch seems to understand at least that. He turns his glare back to you and Eren, scowling deeply.

“The next time I see you, Jaeger, it’s fucking over.”

“Get lost before you make me fucking embarrass you,” Eren says, voice dripping with venom. Floch shakes his head, lets his gaze land on you. A chilling smile breaks over his features.

“Next time, sweetheart.”

“Get the fuck out of here already, bro,” Connie snaps, pointing towards the exit. Floch takes his leave, sauntering towards the door with all the confidence of someone who hadn’t just been pinned against the countertop. A heavy, staticky silence falls over the bar.

“If I see you fighting in here again, it’s over.” Levi’s cold eyes fall on Eren, who nods curtly in understanding. Eren brushes his hands through his hair, rests a hand on the bun at the back of his head. Something strange is coursing through your body; something that tastes like anger, burns like heartbreak, falls bitter on your tongue like envy.

“Are you okay?” Sasha appears at your side again, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Floch’s such a psycho, I’m not even surprised he picked a fight.”

You nod numbly, eyes never leaving Eren. He finally looks back down at you, none of the heat having left his eyes.

“What the fuck was that?” It takes you a moment to realize that it’s you speaking, you throwing those words up the inches from your mouth to Eren’s. Eren’s face contorts into a frown.

“What do you mean? He was bothering you, wasn’t he?”

“So you try to fight him?” You seethe. Maybe it is anger, this bizarre, foreign emotion tingling at the tips of your fingers. No, that’s not quite it, you’re not angry you’re just…confused. Hurt that Eren’s frolicking around with Breeze, doing whatever he pleases, and yet, he’s jumping into bar fights to save you from the tangible evidence of your past.

“What do you expect me to do when someone talks to you like that?” Eren hisses back, eyes narrowed.

Sasha’s backed away from the two of you now; you’re aware of your friends staring at you, noses scrunched as they try to figure out exactly what’s happening now. You wish you had an answer to give them, but all you can muster is this heartache shooting out of your mouth in the form of daggers.

“I don’t need you,” you spit, “I don’t need your protection.”

“It didn’t exactly look like you had that handled,” Eren scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, and what are you? My knight in shining fucking armor? Don’t you have other damsels in distress waiting for you?” It’s too far, you know that as soon as the words leave your mouth, but the liquid courage Sasha had insisted upon is making your tongue sharper than you’d anticipated.

Eren rears back from where he’s hunched to meet you on your level, nostrils flaring again. Before you can utter another word, he’s got an arm thrown around your shoulders none-too-gently, practically dragging your stumbling feet towards the exit.

“Outside.”

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maboiisuga

3 years ago

Keep reading

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maboiisuga

1 year ago

IN THESE STOLEN MOMENTS

CHAPTER SUMMARY: You aren't sure where you stand with Rin anymore. You just want him to be honest and tell you how he feels. It doesn't matter, though. Not when your friends have decided to have a snow day! Maybe pretending you're a kid again will take your mind off things.

ex-fiancé!rin x f!reader

WARNINGS : 18+, vaginal sex, exhibitionism, slight choking, spanking, slight overstim, slight oral (m receiving), near death experience?, arguing, blood/nosebleed, slight violence.

WORDS : 6.1k

notes : it's angsty up in here

LAST CHAPTER┊MASTERLIST ┊ NEXT CHAPTER

You couldn’t quit him.

After being with him again for the first time in what in hindsight feels like an eternity, you couldn’t quit him again. Even after he fucked you again when you showered, you knew you’d have to have him again.

He made you go to your own room after you cleaned each other. But it was hard. It was hard not being able to lie beside him and sleep in his arms. And it was even harder lying to Chigiri about it when he eventually came to bed, thankfully he passed out pretty quickly.

You could barely sleep.

All you could think about, can think about, is Rin.

The morning came around, or at least it got lighter outside. You didn’t even bother checking your phone when you decided to sneak out of your shared room with your best friend. You snuck down the hall to see your ex again.

He must have been awake, too, because he answered to your knock almost instantly.

“R-Rin, harder.” you moan, quiet and broken as he fucks into you on his balcony. You both knew what you wanted when you knocked at his door. You wanted to be with each other, like this, but you knew it came with the risk of being caught.

The balcony is freezing and covered in snow.

But neither of you care. It goes unnoticed as he fucks you so scandalously. The friction and close proximity both keeps you warm enough as he ruins you on the snow-coated balcony. It makes your vision blur as you think about how private yet exposing this is.

Should anyone wake up and decide to play in the snow, you’ll be spotted.

Your brain is goo as he churns up your insides, he forces a bent leg up onto the railing as he rails you from behind. Even in such a degrading, compromising position, you feel nothing but love.

He gently caresses your throat and offers a gentle squeeze to make sure you’re with him. You’re focused and you’re devoted to him and what he’s making you feel. It makes your tongue loll out embarrassingly as he pounds into you, lewd gushy squelching reverberates through the morning air. The sound of skin meeting skin is loud enough to scare the birds from the naked, snow filled branches of the trees in the distance.

Your body is angled just enough to be kissed by him. It’s so sloppy and heated as he gives you the hard, but attentive strokes you so greedily desire.

“I l-love you, Rinnie,” you tell him, “s’much, s-so much.” you continue, speech broken and whiny and oh so quiet. It’s a secret you shouldn’t tell but you can’t help it anymore. You’ve already told him once, there’s no harm in telling him again and again and again.

He moans into your mouth as you kiss, the pressure around your throat intensifying ever so slightly as he continues to slam into you. You yelp when you feel him move your head so abruptly, his nose brushes against your ear before you hear him whisper into it.

“I love you.” he repeats, groaning when he feels how your pussy clenches when he tells you. “L-Love this pussy, missed her s’much baby. I miss you more than anything.” he confides, and it makes your heart swell. Though a thought nags as you think about life after the cabin.

“W-What about your girlfriend?” you cavil, pouting as you think about what you’re doing is so wrong and unfair to her. It’s wrong, but you don’t really care about her. You care about yourself and what this means for you and your ex going forward. “Ah!” you yelp, feeling a painful smack land on your ass as he doesn’t relent.

“Don’t talk about her, not now.” he tells you, and it makes your blood run cold. You bite your lip as you feel him smack you again in the same spot as before. You feel tears form in your eyes as you think about her. This is temporary, things will change when you leave the cabin. He’s not yours anymore, but he’s yours for now. “Stop thinking about her.”

“C— I can’t.” you whimper, and it only makes him fuck you harder. “Rinnie! Unffff, o’my God!” you cry as you feel him battering against your g-spot. He’s going to force you not to think, no matter what. The force of his hand around your neck increases once again, and tears begin to fall as you lose yourself to him.

“Stop fucking thinking,” he demands. “Always so stubborn. Listen to me for once.”

Your hands grasp the cold metal railing. It’s a white-knuckle ride and all you can do is hold on. It’s relentless as you feel him begin to chase his orgasm, harder and deeper thrusts that have you on the brink unconsciousness.

“Fuck, princess, you’re so perfect. Gonna be a good girl and cum for me, aren’t you?” he hums, his voice gravelly and infused with a grit you know is bound to topple you over the edge at any moment. He smirks against you when he hears your little desperate whine that you were hoping to hide from him. You’re too exposed, though, you’re putty in his hand. “You can do it, c’mon. Cum on this cock.”

“Hnnng! Rini—!” his name is rushed on your tongue as you begin to feel your orgasm wrack through you. Your legs go limp and he holds you tightly. His arms wrap around your torso as your pussy gushes, the warmth of the liquid spurting around you melts through the snow. “Shit— Shit! Fuck, Rin! Ah!”

“When did you get such a dirty fucking mouth, baby?” he asks, spanking you again. You bite your lip and your eyes cross as he continues bullying his cock into you. He’s silent, save for expletives and grunts as he chases his own release.

You hum, content, as you feel him fill your walls once again. It’s so thick and warm and wonderful. He stills inside of you, huffing hard as he gathers himself. Your bodies could fuse together as his hold on you gets tighter and sweat seems to get stickier.

“Wanna blow you…” you whisper.

“Hm?” he asks, not quite hearing you as his ears ring with lust.

You manage to push him away as he releases his hold on you, moving him to the wall parallel to the balcony railing. He watches in awe as you drop to your knees in front of him, entirely dismissing the bitter cold snow on your legs as you focus on him.

His cum runs down your inner thighs as you try and keep his essence inside of you, he holds your head as your stick your tongue out teasingly. He hisses when you lick his sensitive tip, throwing his head back a little too hard against the wall.

“Shit,” he muses, but it only encourages you. He carries on watching you as you attempt to sink your mouth onto him and devour his length. You taste his cum and your own insides on him as you take more and more of him into your mouth. It’s too much for him, though. His cock starts to soften and the overstimulation is too much. “Stop, baby, enough.” he tells you, helping you to your feet again.

“Please?” you flutter your lashes, but he stops your pleading with a sloppy kiss. You wrap your arms around each other, holding each other so sickeningly close as you kiss and lick at each other like you’re animals. It’s so nasty and erotic and it turns you on more. “Need t’suck you off, please.” you beg, but he’s adamant.

“You better get back to your room before Chigiri notices you’re gone.” he whispers, kissing you again. He pulls away a little when he realises you’re decreased enthusiasm. “What’s wrong?”

“… Why don’t you want anyone to know?” you wonder, sadly. “I— never mind. I’ll see you later.” you tell him, you make sure to pick up your panties as you walk into his bedroom as you clothe yourself again.

“I don’t think it’s anyone’s business…” Rin says, coming inside with you and closing the door. He tries to make you look at him, but you don’t want him to see any hurt in your eyes. “Hey, can you… talk to me, please?” he asks, and you look at him.

“Rin, ugh. I don’t know where your head is with this.” you start. “I want you back, we’ve fucked and I miss you. But you’re seeing someone else, and you won’t talk to me about it.”

“I didn’t want things to end… I’ve missed you the whole time…” he tells you, eyes softening as he looks at you for longer. Nothing scares him, not normally. But your eyes, right now, like this, terrify him. He’s back to that day all of those months ago.

You have the same eyes as you did then.

The eyes that wouldn’t give him a chance to change or prove himself to you.

It makes him pause for too long as he thinks about what to say to you. But everything is trapped, he has nothing to say. And he can see the look of disappointment in your eyes, now, as you pull on your pyjamas and go to leave.

You don’t even say goodbye as you close the door behind you, as quietly as possible so you don’t draw attention to yourself. There are slight signs of life to be heard from downstairs as you walk down the hall and back to your room. You just hope Hyoma is still asleep.

The door creaks slightly, even when you open it slowly. You look inside first to make sure you can see him, and relief hits you like a tidal wave when you see pretty rose-coloured locks spread out in all directions across his pillow.

You creep back in and slip into the bed right next to him. A heavy sigh leaves you as you are overcome with relief, even feeling a little smug when you realise you’ve gotten away with it. You managed to sneak in and out completely undetected.

“Good morning.” he greets you, calmly. Your heart pounds as you roll over to face him. His eyes don’t look tired, if anything, they look focused. “Where have you been?”

“Toilet.” you respond.

“For two hours?” he replies. Fuck. “I think you were fucking someone on the low. So? Unless you had—”

“I had diarrhoea.”

“Stop lying you bitch.” he laughs and slaps your arm lightly. “Why won’t you tell me? You know I won’t say anything… Was it Rin? Or did you mess up?”

You sigh, rolling onto your back so that you can stare up at the ceiling. He just looks at you as he tries to determine what you’re thinking, though he moves himself upright as he sees you start to cry slightly.

It’s futile, lying to him. You should have known he’d figure you out in an instant. You’re so predictable and easy to read. And now that you have him to talk to, your emotions bubble to the surface. And you tell him everything. From the kitchen counter to this morning.

He doesn’t interrupt, he doesn’t ask questions. He just nods and lets you talk. And you explain how you’re feeling and why you feel so upset. You feel stupid, and you feel hurt.

“I wonder if I’m just expecting too much. It’s just sex and he’s with someone else, it’s not like he owes me anything.” you tell him at the end of it all, but he shakes his head.

“No, no. Fuck that. He’s fucking you and telling you he loves you and you guys have history.” he corrects you, eager to make you understand that you haven’t done anything wrong. “He’s cheating because she’s a rebound. But he knows how you feel now, and he still can’t be honest, this is on him.”

“He’s probably just telling me what I want to hear while we’re fucking.” you theorize, but he doesn’t comment. You aren’t sure if it’s because he agrees or not, but it keeps you quiet for a moment nonetheless. “I don’t think he’s… the type. To use me, I mean.”

“He isn’t.” Hyoma agrees with that, at least. “He might be scared you’ll leave him again. But, you did just hook up. It’s a mood killer and maybe it was weird timing to try and talk about deep stuff.”

“Maybe… Should I go and say sorry then?”

“No, just, let’s see what happens today.” he tells you.

You ended up resting in bed with Chigiri for longer than intended, waking up a few hours later to see the sun fully shining through the windows rather than the pink and gold hues of this morning’s delight.

He left you alone in favour of getting himself some breakfast, while you decided to have your third shower to clean yours and Rin’s combined coupling from your body.

You got dressed, once again opting for comfort over anything before you went downstairs to see everyone. Otoya cooked alone, apparently, but Chigiri decided to help to speed the process along.

“Hungry?” Otoya asks, but you shake your head. “I’ll make you something anyway.” he shrugs, and you can’t help but smile. Even a simple slice of toast is a kind enough gesture.

“The children want to play in the snow,” Sae tells you, sitting beside you with his cup of coffee. You squint at him, and then back at the other guys in the room. “Yes, those being the children.” it makes you laugh, even Eita does can’t help but smile as he hands you your toast.

“So you better eat up so you’ve got enough energy.” Ryusei grins, putting his arm around you as he sits down. He tries to steal a slice from your plate, but Sae slaps his hand away. “What are we doing in the snow, kids?”

“Snowball fights.”

“Making snowmen!”

“Snow angels?”

There’s murmuring amongst the group as everyone decides what they want to do. The noise and positive atmosphere are more than welcome. It keeps you distracted from thinking about your ex.

“I brought my skates, can we go on the ice?” you ask, turning to Sae. You pout when he shakes his head. “Oh, why not?”

“It hasn’t been that cold, so I don’t want to risk it.” he explains, you sigh, but understand. “Something’s telling me it’ll be too thin to walk on, let alone skate on.”

“Okay, I understand!” you smile, trying to cover your disappointment as best you can.

At least there’s a skating rink in the city. That’s safe to use whenever you want. But there’s something so magical you always liked about skating on the Itoshi lake.

It made you feel like a forest fairy.

Ryusei eats beside you once Chigiri puts a plate down in front of him. It’s going to be sad to leave after tomorrow. It’s been fun despite all of the drama. Sitting down to eat with everyone everyday has been so sweet. Being with friends rather with family has been a welcome change.

It’s something you might have to do every year from now on, even if it’s just you and Chigiri.

“Has everyone wrapped their presents yet?” you wonder, pushing your empty plate aside when you’re done. You hold one half of your toast in your fingers, finishing it off as you talk to everyone.

“Mine came prewrapped.” Oliver announces. And Eita looks at him suspiciously.

“Same…” he responds.

Sae announces that he’s finished with wrapping his stuff, while Ryusei and Tabito shake their heads. You’re so excited to see what everyone got each other, even if they are silly and maybe even lewd gifts. It’ll be such a fun Christmas morning with them around either way.

“I did mine while you were in the shower.” Chigiri tells you.

“Oh!” you smile, standing up, “Where did you put the DVDs? We bought some DVDs, guys. Maybe we could watch some tonight and some for Christmas when we’re lounging around?”

“They’re in our room.” Chigiri tells you as you look towards the stairs.

You waste no time running up and locating them before you come back down. Everyone looks excited as you stand beside Chigiri and put the shopping bag in the middle of the kitchen island.

They all start smiling widely at your combined mix of good and bad choices as they work their way through the moderately sized selection.

“Oh Sae, look, your favourite.” Ryusei smiles, handing the Taxi Driver DVD to his friend. Sae’s face lights up as he holds it, excited by the prospect of subjecting everyone to it later.

Chigiri’s face drops, focusing on the movie in Sae’s hands as he comes to a horrific realisation. He turns his body, facing away from everyone. Both of his hands cover his mouth as he tries to maintain his composure. No one even realises that he’s having a mini freak out right in front of them because they’re all so entertained deciding what the movie schedule will be. Nobody notices, except you, that is.

You can’t stop smiling, it’s all you can do to stop yourself from laughing at your best friend’s expense. He sees you out of the corner of his eye, and it lowers his guard.

“What the fuck have I wrapped for secret Santa?” he whispers to you. You hold it together. You almost hold it together before you start snickering. Tears of joy and utter amusement roll down your cheeks as you keep trying to pull yourself together only to start laughing again. He warns you, urging you to stop before everyone notices and asks why you’re laughing.

“If we get the receipt and check what’s here, we can figure it out.” you tell him, and he shakes his head.

“I don’t want to know, this is mortifying.” he tells you. It only makes you laugh more. You’re doubled over beside him clutching onto your stomach. The thought of Sae possibly unwrapping a chick flick tomorrow morning and wondering what on earth possessed Chigiri to gift it to him makes your laughter increase.

“I’m gonna dieeeee~!” you tell him, voice warbling as you look up at his furious gaze only to end up laughing more.

“I’m going to bury you in the snow.”

Everyone finished eating and decided to bundle up warm before heading out into the snow.

Being outside is invigorating. The fresh, cold air is so crisp, it’s almost electrifying. You’d been playing outside for a few hours together. You’d lost track of how many snow people you made.

Your favourite is the one you made with Karasu after everyone demanded you added a pair of tits to it. You even went and grabbed one of your bras from your room, wanting to conceal the modesty of the exposed lady around the more perverse guys in the group.

Rin joined you later in the afternoon, sticking to the sidelines mostly before he was encouraged to have fun with you all. You were fine around him, albeit a little quiet.

You suppose neither of you feel ready to talk, even now. The sky is starting to get darker. It’s a surprising shade of fuchsia and orange that most members of the group can’t help but photograph to remember the moment later. You’re sure there’ll be an influx of Instagram stories with the exact same sky when you check your feed later.

“Think fast!” Oliver yells before pelting a snowball at Eita’s head. His reflexes are fast, but he hadn’t considered your position behind him as he decided to duck out of the way. “Fuck!” Oliver shouts as he watches the snowball hit you in the face and knock you to the ground. He runs over to you; everyone crowds around you before Ryusei helps you up.

“I’m fine!” you laugh, though you scrunch your nose when you notice it feels a little colder than it had before.

“Your nose is bleeding.” Rin tells you, cupping your face as he examines it. He tells you to keep your head back, so you do. “I’ll get tissues.” you don’t catch the furious glare he shoots at Oliver before he hurries into the house.

“Guys, I’m okay! Don’t worry Oliver.” you try and smile at him while being wary of your bloody nose. “It was an accident. Just don’t throw so hard!” you laugh.

“I’m really sorry.” he gets closer to you, giving you a hug as a show of support, he isn’t sure what else he can do to help. “Do you need anything? Can I—”

“Just go have fun, please! It’s just a nosebleed.” you assure him. He raises a suspicious eyebrow, but you tell him once again to continue playing around in the snow. You don’t ignore how far everyone runs away from where you are to make sure you aren’t hurt again. But you’re satisfied as Ryusei and Chigiri sit with you while you wait for Rin to return.

Ryusei pulls you into his side, patting your head as you carry on waiting. Your face is covered in blood and your clothes are ruined. You try to pull away from Ryusei so you don’t stain his clothes too, but he only holds you closer. He doesn’t care if you get blood on him.

He just wants to take care of you.

Rin returns from inside with tissues and a packet of baby wipes that you recognise. They’re yours. He’s been in your room. You look at him suspiciously, but Ryusei takes them without question.

“Are ya still bleeding?” he asks, and you let go of your nose. “Li’l bit.” he tells you. He takes a baby wipe from the packet and starts cleaning you up. He starts by wiping the congealed blood from your hands, making sure to get between your fingers too.

“Can I do anything?” Rin asks, there’s a need behind his words. He doesn’t want to have to ask, he just wants to help. He wants to be doing what Ryusei is doing right now. But instead, he feels helpless. He’s been left on the sidelines while his friend takes care of you.

“I got it.” Ryusei replies without even looking at him. You don’t even think about Rin as they converse. You’re more annoyed that your makeup is ruined and you’re going to have half of it wiped off when Ryu is through with you. Rin doesn’t say anything else, leaving to sit nearby to keep an eye on you.

Chigiri spies an opportunity. So, he sits beside him while Ryusei carries on cleaning you up.

“You seem in a better mood today.” Ryusei smiles, his grin only growing when he sees you smiling too.

“I—” you look over at Rin, hoping he won’t overhear. He looks like he’s too busy chatting with Chigiri, and it looks serious. “I slept with Rin.”

“Oh!” he laughs, still focusing on getting the last of the blood off your face. It’s just about gone when he speaks again. “Do you wanna talk about it?” he asks.

“I just don’t know what I’m doing, ‘n I don’t think he does either. And he’s got a girlfriend so it’s… weird.” you explain. He pulls out a tissue from the plastic pack Rin handed to him. He gives it to you, encouraging you to stuff it up your nose while it continues to bleed. “A-Anyway, thank you for the other day. About the whole kiss… thing… thank you for not being weird about it.”

“I promise, it’s fine.” he assures you as he stands. He holds out a hand for you to grab and he pulls you to your feet. “It’s all good, I just—”

“You kissed him?” Rin asks, coming closer to you. You’d thought you’d been quiet enough to get away with having a private conversation with Ryusei. But clearly, you’d been too naïve. Of course he’d be curious as to what you were talking about after everything that’s happened.

“No, I—”

“Rin, it wasn’t like that.” Ryusei tries to reason with him. But you’ve never seen Rin like this before. He doesn’t stop approaching, but all of his fury seems targeted on Ryusei. “Nothing happened.”

“I just heard you whispering about a kiss.” Rin responds. “Care to explain?”

“I’m trying, man. Back up a little, yeah?” Ryusei insists, shoving Rin back a little and he accidentally bumps into Hyoma. You look at your best friend, concerned, but it’s short lived when Rin snaps back.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” Rin tells him, shoving him harder.

“Nothing happened!” Ryusei shouts, pushing him again. They get the attention of the rest of the group, they all come over to see what’s going on. They pick up the pace when they keep pushing and shoving, the intensity only growing the longer they fight.

“Stop it!” you yell, only to be ignored. You try to break them up, but Ryusei pushes you further away to you don’t end up with another nosebleed.

“I didn’t fucking kiss her!” Ryusei insists firmly, trying to put a stop to the unnecessary squabbling. “You’re seeing someone anyway, yeah? What difference does it make if I want to fuck her?”

“You fucked her?” Rin asks, a rage like you’ve never seen flares in his eyes. The light of the sky muddies the teal lagoons that you know and love so much, and he can barely think straight as he digests what he’s hearing. “You’ve been telling me for years that we’re fucking friends, Shidou. And now you’re fucking my ex?”

“No! I was—” Rin punches him hard enough to throw him off balance. He falls back hard and bumps into you. He falls into the snow, and it crunches from his impact. “Fuck, Rin.”

Before he can even think about getting up to throw him a harder punch, everyone around him gasps. He turns around to see you on the ground. His fall forced you onto the lake, sliding almost halfway across the ice.

“Oh shit.” Ryusei speaks.

“Oh shit.” you say in a panic, realising what has happened as you manoeuvre yourself upright so you can look at everyone in the distance. Even from so far away, everyone can see how scared you are. Your heavy breaths in quick succession give you away immediately. “Rin!” you cry out, worried that this will be the last thing you ever get to say.

Nobody knows what to do, least of all you. Your eyes begin to water as you worry about what’s going to happen to you.

Fear surges through you as you hear the ice crack.

“Help me!” you scream. “I heard a crack!”

“Don’t panic!” Hyoma tells you, though he knows it’s easier said than done. “Do we go get her or—”

“The ice might break if too many people are on it.” Sae announces. “Lie on your stomach and crawl across slowly.” he instructs you.

You’re shaking but do what you can to position yourself how he’s told you. The breaths you take are slow, but noisy. They’re precarious as you worry about falling beneath the ice never to surface again.

“I’m here, princess.” Rin tells you, steeling his voice in an attempt to calm you down. He’s at the front of the group after shoving past everyone. He drops to the balls of his feet and gets as close to the edge as he can. He sounds calm, but his eyes tell you he’s just as terrified. “I’m right here!”

You nod, tears drip from your eyes and onto your bloodied coat sleeves. Fear isn’t a good enough word to describe what you’re feeling. You’re even scared that your tears are going to be heavy enough to break the ice below.

It’s quiet as you try and move across, and everyone is on tenterhooks waiting for you to get to safety. You even manage to relax a little as you feel like you’re going to make it.

But the ice cracks again.

“Rin!” you cry again, freezing in place. You can’t move. You’re stuck and you don’t know what you can possibly do to get out of this. “I don’t want to die. I love you I love you Rin I don’t want—!”

“Stop it! You’re not going to die!” he tells you fighting back tears. “I have to go and get her.” he announces, but his brother and Ryusei hold him back.

“You can’t. You’ll make it worse.” Sae warns him. “Hey, don’t stop now. You’re nearly here!” Sae tells you, hoping some words of encouragement will be enough to get through to you. He looks behind him, urging everyone to do the same.

“What about those sweets you bought, huh?” Chigiri calls out. “I’ll have to eat them all and get fat if you don’t get over here!”

Everyone laughs, and it even makes you smile a little. You breathe air from your puffed out cheeks as you try and find the courage to keep going. Everyone cheers and hypes you up, it’s the only thing they can think of to keep you calm.

“I’ll make you my hot chocolate I know you like! You can even have all of the marshmallows!” Chigiri tells you.

“We’ll let you pick the movies we watch tonight.” Ryusei chimes in.

“And you can have the comfiest spot on the couch!” Otoya adds.

Everyone keeps talking to you as you do your best to ignore the cracking of the ice. You pick up the pace, finally feeling confident that you’re going to make it.

Rin smiles. An earnest, genuine smile as he sees your confidence build. He drops to his knees and holds his hand out to you, tears spilling over his lash line as a burning need to keep you safe in his arms grows and grows.

“Come back to me, baby.” he sobs silently, fat tears roll down his cheeks as he speaks. You keep your eyes on him as you continue traversing towards him, desperate to hold his hand and be with him again. “Need to tell you how sorry I am. I need to tell you I love you, so please come back.”

He tries to reach out further when you get closer. A few of the guys help keep him secure so he can grab you sooner than he would otherwise. It’s so intense as you ardently strive to hold his almost blue hand.

And your heart skips a beat as you feel his freezing hand touch yours. His eyes light up when he feels you, clutching tightly and pulling you towards him. Everyone else sees that he’s got you and pulls him backwards.

You cry out as you feel the soft snow seep into your clothes, and you look back at the lake. Everyone does. A deep crack forks through the ice, and you jolt as a chunk sinks beneath the water where you’d just been moments ago.

Rin looks at you, chest heaving, and you stare back at him as well.

The other’s back away to give you room to breathe, most of them falling to sit down in the snow themselves after the adrenaline dies off.

“I thought I was going to die.” you tell Rin, and he nods.

“You scared me, princess.” he whispers back, laughing a little but crying more from relief. He pulls you into his arms and hugs you tightly against him, kissing into the crown of your head as he realises you’re safe with him again. He doesn’t care about Ryusei, he doesn’t care about anything. Just this. “I love you so much, I’m so sorry.”

“I love you too.” you mumble into his chest.

He frees you from his hold, only to kiss you passionately in front of everyone. Chigiri cheers first when he notices, the rest soon follow. But it’s just white noise to both of you. You can’t pull away and you think you might stop breathing if you do. But after some time, he breaks it.

“We should go inside, you’re freezing.” he whispers, his forehead rests against yours and he carefully holds each side of your head with both hands. His breathing is almost as stuttered as yours had been on the ice. Something doesn’t feel right.

“Rinnie? Is everything okay?” you wonder.

“Yeah I just,” he huffs, “I need to talk to you about something.”

Everyone was so attentive to you when Rin brought you inside. Each of them offered you the world in their own little ways. But Rin had no intention of letting everyone fuss over you. Not when he’d almost lost you, no. He took you to the bathroom instead, determined to clean the blood and outdoor grime from your weary body.

But you’re in his room, now. Sitting by the fireplace and wrapped in blankets that he insisted on swaddling you in. He didn’t even let you get pyjamas from your bedroom. He just gave you some of his sweatpants and a t-shirt.

Not a word is spoken for quite some time as you sit by the fire together. You just watch it crackle and flare as it keeps you both warm.

But you have to know what he meant.

You need to know what he was talking about.

“Do you love me, Rinnie? Really?” you wonder. It makes him hold you tighter against him, unsure why you even need to ask. “You weren’t just saying it because you… wanted to get in my pants or thought I was gonna die today?”

“Of course I love you, princess. Why are you asking me this?”

“B-Because you said you need to talk to me about something.” you remind him, and his gaze drops. “If it’s about letting me down easy, can we just pretend until tomorrow?”

“I don’t want to let you down easy; I want to be with you again.” he explains, firmly. Determined to not let a doubt linger in your pretty head as he tells you. “I want to be better for you this time, because I don’t want you to leave me again.”

“Well… I don’t understand what you wanted to talk to me about.” you tell him, and he frowns. “Is it your girlfriend?”

“… Yeah.” he clears his throat. “I’m scared I’m going to lose you. But I need to tell you about her.”

You don’t say anything, you just look at him with wide eyes as you wait for him to tell you. It scares you to think about what he might say. The possibilities are endless as you think about what’s going on in his mind as he searches for the courage to speak. What could he possibly say to you that would make you leave him again?

“I knew you were in the hallway when Shidou was in my room. I recognise that strawberry and coconut body cream you use, you always used it when we were together.” he explains. And you realise he’s talking about the day you’d accidentally eavesdropped on them. “I was about to tell Ryusei I missed you. But when I knew you were there, I thought I’d see if you’d be jealous if I moved on.”

“… You lied?” you ask.

“Yeah. I’m sorry, it was childish and I didn’t think things would turn out like this.”

You think about what he’s told you for a minute. But you just lay your head on his chest, sighing wistfully as you consider where you are now. “I’m not mad.” you inform him.

“You’re not?”

“No, I can’t be mad.” you tell him, moving your head again so you can kiss his cheek. “I shouldn’t have been spying, and I threw myself at Ryusei to make myself feel better but I made everything worse.”

“I shouldn’t have been so possessive about that, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s—” you stop, kissing his lips sweetly and looking into his eyes. “I’m not mad, Rinnie. I’m happy and I’m alive and I love you.”

He smiles at that, kissing you back again. “I love you too.”

“But if you want to make it up to me…” you start, moving to straddle him so you can kiss him while looking into his eyes. “I wanna watch movies with everyone tonight. And you have to come to!”

He sighs, kissing your neck and nibbling on your earlobe.

“Fine,” he agrees. “As long as you get Chigiri to make me one of his hot chocolates.”

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