pairing: suk hansung x reader ; kim taehyung x reader (platonic)
fandom: hwarang ; bts
warnings: non idol!au ; alternate reality!au ; mentions of death ; language
genre: angst ; fluff ; possible smut
summary: taehyung has been your best friend for so long, almost as long as he has been sick. but now it was getting worse and for some reason, the only person that has any idea as to why that is, is a lunatic that tells you itโs because taehyung is connected to someone from another universe. and then you suddenly find yourself on a quest in an alternate reality, trying to prevent the death of a boy named hansung, so that your best friend could live. however, developing feelings for the hwarang member hadnโt exactly been the plan..
a/n: listen, I really didnโt plan on posting this today, but this might be the happiest Iโve ever been with any fanfiction I have written. and Iโve been meaning to write something with hansung for ages anyways so I REALLY hope youโre going to enjoy this fanfiction because it means a lOT to me. (also, btsโ save me fits this fanfiction so well, Iโm crying, hence the title)
โHey beautiful,โ he said weakly, almost as pale as a ghost, even though he once used to be quite tan.
โHello handsome,โ you chuckled and leaned down to press a kiss against his forehead, โHow are we feeling today?โ
โBetter, now that youโre here.โ
Taehyung has been your best friend ever since you could remember. But it was almost just as long that he was sick. At first it wasnโt impacting his life that much. He stayed at home more than other children during his school days, because he was often sick and had to visit the doctors every once in a while, but none of them ever knew what was wrong with him. They said it was the flu, a cold, an infection. Anything that they could come up with, basically.
But now he was 23 and permanently tied to a hospital bed because it had gotten so bad.
Now, they knew that the reason for his weakness was the loss of blood. But the crazy thing? There was no wound anywhere on his body. It just seemed to vanish into thin air. And even though they were giving him blood transfusions, they couldnโt pump it back in fast enough, because he was losing it at such a high rate.
Doctors were at lost, even the specialists from all over the world that had visited had no idea what was wrong with him.
Some even said he might be the first to have this โdiseaseโ, but that fact wouldnโt help him in any way, unfortunately.
summary โ friends to lovers to strangers is how it usually goes, but you and jeon jungkook have revisited each of those steps a few too many times over the past five years (aka the jungkook college au with mutual pining, high school flashbacks, friends to lovers?, strangers to lovers?, who even knows?, and many shy & awkward moments that nobody asked for - enjoy).
pairing โย jungkook x reader
genre โย smut, fluff, angst, more fluff, probably more fluff
words โ 11.7k
notes & warnings โ mentions of alcohol.ย i also made a tinyย playlistย for this au if anyone wants something to listen to?? and any feedback is really, really appreciated!
summary โป for the first time in a year, a pair of eyes stare right into his and then a chance encounter in autumn bleeds into eternity.
pairing โปย ghost!taehyung x reader, past!yoongi x reader
genre โป fluff, angst, slow burn, kinda?? friends to lovers
words โปย 20k
warnings โปย mentions of death, brief mentions of gang-related stuff
notes โปย this was originally supposed to be a series i calledย โtouchโ but long story short, shit happens and now itโs a giant fic. iโll dedicate this to the pretty coolย @taesthetes because i think this fic was the reason we met in the first place like two years ago?? maybe??? p.s.ย this is a playlist i made of songs that i relate to this au/listened to while writing!
summary โธ jeonย jungkook doesnโt understand what the fuss is about the rival gangโs sniper. sheโs a perfect marksman, they say, yet every time he has faced her heโs gotten away - quite easily too. is he just that good? maybe. is the real reason, unbeknownst to him, that he also happens to be kind ofย (itโs complicated) dating her? one hundred percent.
pairingย โธ jungkook x reader
genreย โธ smut, lots of fluff, angst; kindaย enemies to lovers, gang au and a dash of neighbor au in there too
wordsย โธ 7.8k+
warnings and notesย โธย mentions of guns and violence; basically gang-related themes and also i made a playlist,ย of course. i wrote this on the plane and then on the train (and of course didnโt proofread whoops), so please do let me know if thereโs anything that doesnโt make sense. happy reading!
ใปโฅใปโ PREMISE โ โ แงโ In one night, everything changedโno warning, no return, no chance to comprehend the horror that would become my reality.
I will forever be haunted by the nightmares, the memory of standing frozen, powerless, as she used her last breath to speak the word that split the world in two:ย
โRun.โ
She said, and I did. I never truly stopped.
Featuringโ werewolf!jungkook x f!readerย : ฬฬโ genreย thriller, suspence, horror (at times), fiction, angst, enemies to lovers, yearning, soulmates, AUย : ฬฬโ wcโ 2.9kย : ฬฬโ warnings:ย violence, blood, mental illness, among a lot of other triggering topics to come, this is a thriller afterall.
: ฬฬโ Author's note: Hey everyone! This is the first chapter of a very, very long story, and I hope you enjoy it. I know thrillers arenโt everyoneโs cup of tea, but I hope youโll give it a chance! This is my first time posting on Tumblr in a very long while, so please excuse any formatting errors. And, while Iโm at it, English isnโt my first languageโso if you notice any mistakes, please let me know! Your support would mean the world to me.
It's so fucking hotโeverywhere. Even my thoughts seem to be mushed into a steaming soup, I can't make out the right contents of it.
Sweat trickles down my back, soaking into the already moldy mattress that smells god awful. Strands of my hair stick to my forehead, a tangled, damp mess that can only be described as a birdโs nest.
Iโd give anything to be outside right now, my face buried in the six inches of snow covering the back garden. Iโd do it naked, tooโjust lie there, waiting for the heat to drain out of me, staying until my skin turns red and peels off from frostbite.
My heavy panting competes with the wind outside. Winter howls against the bare trees and dirty windows of this sad excuse for a building. It must have been impressive when it was first built, a billion years ago, all rough stone and dark wood.
Hell, Iโd bet Jesus walked the earth while it was already in need of repairs.
A sob claws its way up my throat. I try to swallow it back, but it wonโt go. I kick and turn for what feels like the hundredth time.ย
Itโs not just the fever making me restless.
Itโs the fact that I feel like shit while everyoneโs out. Including Morgan.ย
Not that I miss her much right now.
No, sheโd be all over me, forcing her disgusting organic tea down my throat, lighting incense, rubbing crystals on my forehead or some shit like that. Sweet, sure, but Iโm not in the mood for her "trust the universe, and the universe will heal you naturally" bullshit. If I had the strength, Iโd dump every antibiotic in the house into a smoothie and chug it.
But itโs not Morganโs absence making my heart ache.
Itโs Jinโs.
And, as always, itโs my fault heโs not here.
If I had told him I felt like my brain was melting, like my heart was pumping boiling oil through my veins, heโd be here in a second. But I canโt bring myself to do it.
Especially because heโs on a date right now, one he was excited for.
A date with a tall, blonde, not-disgustingly-sick woman who works in STEM. A woman whoโs probably holding his hands over the gloves I gave him. A woman who will soon decorate her living room with the flowers I helped him pick out. A woman who must be making him smileโthat smile. The one that makes his eyes wrinkle.
The anger doesnโt help with the fever.
Why am I even angry? Do I even have the right to be?
Of course not.
I did this to myself. If I wasnโt such a fucking coward, I would have admitted my feelings sooner. If not to him, then at least to myself. But noโI lied, I resisted, until it became obvious that Jin saw me as nothing more than a friend. A younger sister, even. The thought of anything else would probably disgust him.
Maybe it should disgust me, too, but it doesnโt. It really fucking doesnโt.
We grew up together. Shared every hardship, every joy. We leaned on each other too many nights to count. I watched every one of his firsts, close enough to bear witness but never close enough to be the one living them with him.
He hasnโt texted in three hours. The date must be going well.
God, I hope she dies.
Okay, that was psychotic. I need to deal with this fever.
I push myself up, and the world tilts violently. My vision blurs the second my back leaves the mattress, my head spinning so fast it feels like my brain might slosh right out of my skull. I bite the inside of my cheek, squeeze my eyes shut, and count the seconds until the room decides to stay still.
My throat feels like I swallowed a handful of gravel, raw and scraped from the inside. My lips are cracked, and Iโm sure my voice sounds like plastic being dragged across a cheese grater.
Still, I force myself to move.
Getting up is a struggle, but I manage, wobbling my way to the dresser before I have to stop again to regain my balance. The cold wood under my bare feet is a relief, and for a second, I seriously consider just lying on the floor for a few hours.
But moving helps. At least I feel less like a damp rag left to rot on the bed.
I make it to the hallway.
Halfway down the stairs, the door to my right swings open, and a group of girls spills into the living room, their laughter echoing through the walls. Their faces are flushed from the cold as they yank off hats and gloves, still buzzing from whatever fun they had outside.
Morgan is ahead of the group.
Her blonde hair is a windblown mess, her nose red from the chill, and sheโs grinning at something one of the older girls just said.
I freeze on the step like a deer in headlights.
Itโs something I hate about myselfโfuck a fight or flight, my brain short-circuits and I just freeze, like a baby goat.
Our eyes meet and her smile falters.ย
Her gaze drops to my body, widening at the sight of me standing there in nothing but training shorts and a tank topโat -8ยฐC.
The other girls notice me now. Their expressions range from mild shock to the usual barely-contained indifference, all the way to full-on disgust from the girl at the far left.
The conversation dies too quickly.
I should say something. Anything. But my mind goes blank, and we justโฆ stare at each other in excruciating silence.
Morgan clears her throat.
-Oh, sweetie, what are you wearing? You must be freezing!
Sheโs already climbing the steps toward me, unraveling her scarf and wrapping it around my neck before I can protest. The second sheโs close enough, her brows knit together.
-Are you feeling okay? You look a little green.
"She doesnโt mean to sound so condescending," I tell myself, but it doesnโt help. Not when I can hear the other girls barely holding back their giggles. Not when they already look at me like Iโm some kind of dementia patient.
I force out a reply.ย
-Iโm fine, Mor, seriously. I was just gonna grab something for my fever.
Her face hardens with concern.ย
-Why didnโt you tell me you had a fever? I wouldnโt have left if I knew! -She starts ushering me back up the stairs before I can stop her, talking a mile a minute. -No, go lie down. Iโll make you some tea. And I have honey biscuits left, I think. They should be on my nightstand. Oh! And we might still have some basilโฆ"
Her bracelets and earrings jingle as she moves, spinning me around, guiding me away from the other girls and the shame crawling up my spine.
-No, no, Mor, really, pleaseโ -I try to argue, but itโs useless.
Sheโs already made up her mind.
After a long back and forth, we strike a dealโsheโll get me actual medicine from the kitchen cabinet if I take her tea without complaining.
Morgan and I donโt have much in common. But if thereโs anyone in this building Iโd consider a friend, itโs her.
Iโve struggled with mental health issues my whole life, and the rumors have ensured that most of the girls here either see me as a freak or a charity case theyโd rather not involve themselves with. Not that everyone is outright cruel. Most of them justโฆ donโt care. And the indifference is mutual.
Officially, this place is a convent.
Itโs run by a large group of nuns who offer religious studies and shelter alike, a safe haven for girls with nowhere else to go. Some are here against their will, forced by their conservative families. Others are here because they genuinely believe theyโre Godโs chosen ones.
And then, there are girls like Morgan and I.
Orphans. Runaways. Outcasts. The ones who were simply abandoned.
Morgan is one of the runaways. Her kind personality hides a turbulent past with alcoholic parents and more pain than she ever lets on. Maybe thatโs why she warmed up to me so quickly.
Sheโs seen enough messed-up shit to recognize it in someone else.
Morgan became my roommate three years ago. Sheโs never seen me at my worst, never witnessed a full-blown crisis, but she doesnโt buy into the rumors either. Sheโs polite, friendly, even though we donโt spend much time together outside of sleeping in the same room. Still, itโs good having her around.
Neither of us gets involved in the conventโs religious activities. Weโre just here for the dorms, paying our way by helping the sisters with chores a few days a week and picking up regular jobs to cover our own expenses. Unlike most of the girls, we donโt benefit from the cityโs donations.
Iโm what they call a dropout.
Iโve lived here as long as I can remember, too young to recall a life outside these walls. When I dig through my mind, the only fragments I find beyond this place are of a womanโa stranger, really. She used to pick me up or look down at me, her face expressionless, maybe even annoyed. No warmth. No words. I donโt know what her voice sounds like. If she walked past me on the street today, I wouldnโt recognize her.
But I remember her eyes.
Pale, icy blue. Ringed with fine lines and dark circles. Exhausted. No motherly love there.
I must be getting delirious. My mind keeps slipping into useless thoughts. Maybe the fever is actually frying my brain cells.
Morgan finally returns. She probably got caught up talking in the hallway, but I was too out of it to make out her voice from the white noise outside.
Iโm sprawled on my bed, eyes shut, breathing hard. She tried to cover me earlier, and I almost kicked her in the chin.
She helps me sit up, pressing two pills into my left hand and a cup of steaming, blood-colored tea into my right. The pills? No hesitationโI pop them in and swallow. The tea?
God, thatโs foul.
But a promise is a promise. Even if it might kill me.
I drink the whole thing without complaining, though nothing was said about glaring daggers at Morgan the entire time. Every gulp burns like alcohol on an open wound.
-Y/N, it blows my mind that you didnโt think to call me! -She scolds, hands on her hips. -And I know this is weird coming from me, but why the hell didnโt you go to the hospital already?
I sigh.ย
-I donโt own a car. And I canโt afford another hospital bill.
Iโve racked up enough of those to consider myself permanently buried in debt.
-Well, Jin? Why didnโt he give you a ride?
I donโt look her in the eyes when I mumble back.
-Heโs on a dateโฆ -Morganโs eyes widen in a โyou have got to be shitting meโ kind of way. Suddenly, my own feet become fascinating. -Plus, most roads are closed. Itโs been snowing all day.
A tiny beep sounds from under my armpit. I pull out the thermometer, and Morgan leans in to check the reading.
She doesnโt even blink.ย
-Well, either that thingโs broken or you have about five seconds left to live, any last words?
-I dare you to find something in this place that actually works. -I toss it onto the nightstand and collapse back onto the bed. -Itโs probably older than I am.
Morgan paces the room, her expression tight, the wheels in her head turning.
-Okay. Letโs give it some time. If the fever doesnโt break, weโll figure something out. Iโll blackmail Jaden for a ride or something.
She sounds confident, decisive. Iโm too grateful for her concern to mention that Iโd rather gnaw off my own foot than share a car with her ex-boyfriend.
Eventually, she settles into her routine, distracted by last-minute homework. The room is bathed in the warm orange glow of our shared study lamp. The pills start kicking in, dulling the feverโs grip, making it easier to breathe. The soft rustle of turning pages and the scratch of pen on paper lull me into an exhausted sleepโdespite it barely being 8 p.m.
I manage four hours before the fever rips me back to consciousness.
Itโs worse this time. So much worse. Like my body is punishing me for daring to fight it off.
I wheeze uncontrollably, hands trembling, vision blurring as I search the dark for Morgan. Sheโs sound asleep in her bed, eight feet away, oblivious.
I have to do something or Iโll combust.
One thought rises above the fevered haze: a shower. A cold shower.
I drag myself to the shared bathrooms at the end of the hall. Technically, weโre not supposed to be awake past curfew, let alone taking showers, but slivers of light slip from under closed doors. If the nuns want to scold me, theyโll have to go through every other girl before they find me curled up under the freezing water.
And thatโs exactly what I do.
I donโt bother undressing. I step under the showerhead and turn the knob allowing the first burst of ice-cold water to steal my breath, paralyzing me. Time halts. Sound vanishes. The world shrinks to nothing but my bodyโskin tightening, heart skipping erratically, blood thundering in my ears.
I see stars.
Fucking hellโฆ
I wrap my arms around myself, forehead pressed to the tile, forcing out slow breaths. My clothes cling like a weighted vest, heavy and suffocating. I stay until my fingers turn stiff and blue. Thereโs no scenario where I donโt get pneumonia after this.
Brilliant.
I didnโt bring a towel or a change of clothes. I shiver in my own puddle, staring into the mirror.
The girl looking back at me looksโand feelsโ like a sewer rat.
On a good day, Iโd call myself pretty, but pretty in the way a girl is. Not a woman.
No round curves, no striking angles, no feline grace. Just puffy cheeks, big brown eyes and the body of a stick figure.ย
If I was being honest, the things I liked most about myself were my curly hair and full lips, and thatโs because they were Jinโs favourite things about me.
And his opinion matters. More than I want to admit.
Right now, my lips are purple, my eyes are hollow, my skin is as thin as paper. But at least Iโm no longer on the brink of death.
I have no choice but to sneak back to my dorm, dripping wet, stupidly trying to tiptoe so I donโt soak the wooden floors.
A faint crackling noise comes from inside my room.
Warm orange light spills beneath the door. Morgan must be awake, wondering where I went.
The doorknob is oddly warm in my palm, maybe my fingers are just too cold.
I push the door openโ
โAnd the smell hits me.
It slams into my gut, Wrenches bile into my throat. Itโs thick, cloying, repulsive.
Like sulfur. Rot. Decay.
It burns my nostrils, floods my lungs, makes my eyes sting with instant tears.
No time to process. No time to think.
The heat swallows me whole.
I donโt understand at first. My vision swims in yellow and red, flickering, shifting. Then reality registersโtoo late.
Itโs not my face burning. Itโs not my body.
Itโs the room.
The room is on fire.
Flames crawl up the wooden walls, devour the carpet, lick the ceiling. The air snaps and roars with it, alive, breathing.
Terror rushes through my veins, rooting me to the spot.
Then I see it.
A hulking mass in the flames. Bone-white irises with slit pupils. A mouth that isnโt a mouthโjust a gaping, jagged gash from one side of its face to the other, rows of needle-sharp teeth jutting from rotting flesh, a black sack of muscles the size of a minivan seated at the bed.
Itโs drenched in blood.
Morganโs blood.
I find her eyes. Wide. Horrified. Dead.
She hangs limply, impaled, blood gushing from her mouth, her neck, the massive claw spearing through her stomach.
Her head tilts at an impossible, unnatural angle.
The soundsโGod, the sounds. The wet, choking gurgles.
I have to do something. I have toโ
But I donโt move.
I canโt move.
The beast lowers her onto the wreckage of the bed, its shoulders spreading, its body coiling. Preparing to launch.
glimpse: the good thing about professing your feelings to jungkook is that it'd be over with, whether or not he likes you back โ the bad thing is that he rejects you, even if you haven't confessed.
alternatively, crushing on jungkook who's in your friend group is, has, and will never be a good idea.
[ push n pull fic YIPPPEEEEE, fluff, angst, So Much Yearning, friends to lovers trope, jealousy, dunking on a stewpid jk (as one does), arguments that kinda hit home, redemption!! ]
notes: WE R SO BACK!!!! thank u for waiting ๐ซ๐ค
as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!!
You will never tell Jungkook how desperately you want to be loved.
In your defense (much to Jungkookโs offence), you want to be loved as desperately as he acts on an everyday basis. Heโs not pathetic in the sense that heโs hopeless, but rather pathetic in the light that you want the entirety of him (stubbornness and occasional dimness included) to rub off on you.
You want to be loved pathetically in the same way that Jungkook never computes his expenses when it comes to self-indulgence yet always calculates when it comes to actual requirements. You want to be loved as wholly by the guy who can get by one DIY dorm dinner at a time by asking for scraps from the whole floor with a grin and his hands cupped in begging.
Jungkookโs one of your friends, if not the best youโve ever had, and itโs a miracle that you havenโt jumped at each and every available chance to confess your growing feelings for him.
You bit your tongue that one time he bought you "one of those silly blind boxes you like" on a whim from a bookstore he only went inside to in the first place because he was dying outside in the heat, only to open it for you with your eyes closed and earn you an extra rare figure.
You had to physically restrain yourself (read: clasp your hands together in front of you) when Jungkook made you swap your counterfeit, barely-holding-on kitten heels for his trustworthy slides on the way home because your research presentation prior had you pacing nervously.
Every time that he gives you your tax of whatever he ordered (which always ends up being the best variant that your friend group could possibly order for a meal or a sweet treat), you have to etch into your head clearly, with ballpoint pen, that you will never tell Jungkook how desperately you want him to love you.
Every time that he gives you a one-on-one friend outing, just as he does with everyone else from your circle of ten people and counting (you lost count because you figure that all of you are about to outgrow the long table in the library that nobody else could fill), you convince yourself to never tell him how much you want it to be just you.
You figure that youโll tell Jungkook that you do hold a candle for him, despite not detailing the extent, in this lifetimeโ maybe even the next time you get a moment alone with him, but you figure you wonโt do it now; now, when heโs berating you for just a tiny sacrifice you made thatโs minuscule for everything he does for you and everyone else.
โYouโre impossible!โ he huffs, his annoyance for you being loud enough to stop his faux display of studying and gather attention from everyone else in the library who actually is. Jungkook holds up his phone for you to read, brows scrunched at your look of amusement. โJimin told me you were lactose intolerant!โ
You canโt figure how and why Jungkook and Jiminโs conversation even flitted towards you when you recall clearly that the lactose-filled meal in question was from two weeks ago. You donโt question it because you already know that even giving it a second thought would already be too pompous of you, and you donโt question either why Jungkook looks too devastated at the realization.
โI just tolerated it,โ you snort, burying your nose back into your notes, missing the flash of regret in Jungkookโs features.
He doesnโt know whether heโd feel more sorry over the fact that he didnโt know you were lactose intolerant, or that you didnโt speak up at all to preserve his excitement over eating at the restaurant he wanted to try out.
โBut why would you?โ he sulks, completely foregoing the textbook he has opened on the same page for the last hour.
You know exactly why you did, but youโd rather not tell Jungkook now.ย
Youโll tell him some other time, that much youโre sure of, but not now โ not now when heโs too devastated over your tummy issues, and not now when heโs just one revelation away from chewing you out over something he has to learn from someone else.
โYour broke ass bought it so I had to,โ you murmur, rolling your eyes as you rest your chin on the palm of your hand.
โFoul,โ Jungkook immediately chuckles, shaking his head at your retort even if he knows youโre just kidding around (he knows you wonโt hurt him like that that), finally opening his laptop.
Jungkook, your friend, finally types on his laptop, yet itโs not for the contribution that he badly needs to put in for a group project.
Instead, he opens up the Google Doc and writes in a bullet point underneath your name, the words do not give cheese acquainted with three exclamation points โ along with your name, is the names of your mutual friends and Jungkookโs observations that would come in handy for an outing, a gift, or both.
Jungkookโs that good of a friend, and thatโs why youโll never tell him how desperately you want to be loved by him.
( โก )ย
Getting gifts for someone who has a credit card and has no inhibitions when it comes to buying whatever they want is a difficult task.
Getting Jungkook for Secret Santa this year is even harder than the last, and that was when Jin snuck five strips of his name and left more than five of you (you donโt even know how that happened) without gifts, all while he was laughing to himself after he successfully gaslit everyone into thinking that they were all drunk and made the mistake themselves.
You donโt know what to give Jungkook that he doesnโt already have. He doesnโt have a girlfriend the last time you checked and while you canโt exactly wrap yourself in ugly, recycled kraft paper (as opposed to Jiminโs dumb, all-knowing-about-your-hidden-feelings suggestion), youโd rather not drive Jungkook away, even if you donโt know either how to drive him in.
You donโt have the slightest clue to what his โsurprise me ;)โ scribble underneath his name means and it makes you feel guilty, far more than he ever could have after Jiminโs revelation of your dietary restrictions.ย
Itโs not the dilemma of who would sit next to who in the large albeit crowded dining table in the cabin that you rented out, nor is it the cooking and wrapping duties that each of you are tasked with that stresses you out this holiday season.
You wish so badly that the largest champagne problem you have at the moment was wondering if your Christmas gift for your nitpicky mom and nonchalant dad back at home arrived in time. You pray that your biggest hurdle is either convincing Namjoon that his room is just cold and not haunted, or breaking off a fight between Eunwoo and Soomin because they keep fighting over whose overpriced film camera will be used for the picture by the tree, or even talking Mingyu down from smacking Jin in his sleep.
The largest champagne problem that you have, even if itโs actually between life and living said life in peace without minding your inevitable heartbreak, is worrying about Jungkookโs gift.
You hold your breath as soon as Hoseok gathers everyone into the living room, your nerves probably getting the best of you because you hear Jungkook hollering to whoeverโs closest to the thermostat to adjust it because your teeth kept chattering.
You have nothing to be nervous about, you convince yourself as Jungkook steps up into the middle and awaits with wide arms, your best friend being another victim of assuming that the comically large wrapped present is his (itโs not).
Jungkook doesnโt have any expectations for you to meet, you convince yourself as he becomes even more hyper when he learns that itโs you, so much so that he takes a lap around the backyard with his hands clapping furiously.
You canโt love Jungkook any more than you do now, you realize as you see Jungkook throw his head back in glee when he opens up your gift.
Itโs only a Himalayan salt lamp. Itโs only a lamp that you didnโt buy for so much. Itโs only a thing that Jungkook said to you in passing one time, yet heโs beyond grateful โ enough for him to carry you in his arms and take another lap around the backyard.
โGod, you love me soooo bad,โ he lulls, teasing you mercilessly as he unceremoniously drops you so he could adore the lamp up close. โI always wanted to lick one!โ
โYouโre so stupid,โ you mutter, rolling your eyes at his excitement over something so simple; something so insignificant in the world of thoughtful, expensive gifts.
You affectionately think that Jungkookโs stupid, yet you canโt tear your eyes away from him.
โI didnโt hear a no,โ Jungkook hums with his tongue out, eyes wide and flickering between you and the lamp. โShould I do it? Should I? Iโm doing-โฆ!โ
You put a spoonful of cake into his mouth instead, the whine that escapes his throat still sounding like gratefulness to your ears.
Tonightโs not the night wherein you tell Jungkook how badly you want to be loved by him โ not when heโs so preoccupied with his new salt lamp that he keeps daring people to take a lick of, not when heโs the one whoโs being convinced that thereโs a ghost in Namjoon's room and being bullied into sleeping in.
Not when Jungkookโs being the perfect, lovable friend that he is during the holidays and every other day.
( โก )ย
Youโre well-aware that Jungkookโs a catch.
You know that heโs a catch and heโll never live it down, and neither can you.
Youโre very painfully aware that Jungkookโs a catch because youโre reminded of it every single day whenever youโre with your friends. You know that atleast two of them were integrated into the group in the first place because they liked Jungkook, and that doesnโt really bother you (more than it should, atleast) anymore.ย
Soraโs crush formed out of boredom on Jungkook disappeared as soon as she got a boyfriend, but you understand why her gaze lingered on him in the first place.
Eunjiโs crush on Jungkook already dissipated the moment she learned about his GPA, but you get why she had been attracted to his charm anyway.
You know that heโs a catch and that heโs not solely yours either, and the latter makes you humble.
โThereโs flowers on your desk again,โ you point out, the arrangement irking you for more reasons than one. โWhy do you have to be so popular and handsome.. and lovable,โ you mumble, the tail end of your mini rant barely being heard by Jungkook because he's too busy admiring his gift.
โWhatโs that now?โ Jin piped up, eyebrows furrowed upon picking up your angry muttering. He's beyond confused, maybe just as much as you are, when you just snarl at him for his unintentional use of supersonic hearing.
โAnd why do I have to sit next to you even if I have allergies,โ you redirect your attention to Jungkook who has to sweep the flowers to a beaten-up paper bag for safekeeping, the item in his backpack being the most used object for all of the admiration towards him.
โBecause youโre the best-est friend ever,โ he rolls his eyes, the faux pout on his lips surprisingly softening you instead of the opposite. โAnd maybe Iโm the worst-est one to keep putting you through this.โ
โYou sound so stupid,โ you reply automatically, crossing your arms and keeping them there. โBut youโre right,โ you exhale through your nose, conceding your defeat over willingly letting him put you through this, carrying the blame by yourself.
Jungkook doesnโt only act like this with you anyway. Thereโs no special treatment, thereโs no false hopes being promised โ itโs just you genuinely happening to fall for him.
โCome on, just tolerate it! Pinch your nose or something!โ
โWhy should I? Find another seatmate,โ you sulk, making a point to angle your back away from him and towards Jin whoโs at your right, doing his best at holding in a laugh over how ridiculous the both of you look.
โObviously youโre the one with the latest phone so you have to take pictures of me with the flowers!โ Jungkook whines, punctuating his sentence with a hand on his hip. Heโs sulking because youโre sulking, and youโve never hated him more at the moment. โWhy else would I force you to sit with me?โ
Jungkookโs stupid, and so are you, so youโd rather not tell him how desperately you want to be loved by him today.
( โก )ย
In all fairness, you thought you would lose nothing.
You thought you would lose nothing because in the first place, you barely expected anything out of Jungkook. Liking him didnโt mean that you were indebted to him, and liking you back isnโt something that he owed to you either.
You werenโt expecting Jungkook to fall on his knees and say something stupid to hint at his mutual love for you (although you did think about it a couple of times), but you atleast expected a little bit of respect from him to try and see the strength it took you to even confess.
You planned it perfectly, even taking a page off his book and making a whole word document for it wherein you spent days typing whatever crossed your mind throughout the day and erasing what seemed the most impossible throughout the night.ย
In your word document, you and Jungkook would be out in the snow, skating in an outdoor rink even if neither of you know how to. You figure that you wonโt attempt to drag (read: hobble with) him to the middle of the ice because in case he doesnโt like you back, the waddle back to the exit wouldnโt be as awkward; if Jungkook does like you back, youโll still be hobbling to the exit, albeit happily.
In your word document, thereโs a spine of a script that you would say when the day comes. Youโll skim along the lines of how youโve never been so enamored with someone in your entire life (with the internal note that youโll dial it back a bit if his expression turns sour), of how bright he makes your days for you, and how he doesnโt have to be obligated to like you back.
In your word document, youโre set. Youโve planned a foolproof blueprint of what would turn out, whether or not Jungkook is set on loving you the way you desperately want to be โ
Except now, Jungkook completely undoes everything youโve ever worked for.
Now, he looks at you with a glint in his eye that looks more apologetic than it is endearing. You donโt even know what led to your heartbreak exactly because one minute, you were just studying, and by the next, Jungkookโs already letting you down even if you haven't had the chance to rise.
You swear on your life that you werenโt giving any signals at all that you were actually about to confess. You were only silent, refusing to talk to him because you were too stressed over your task and that you were scared you would burst into tears if you tried mouthing the formula out loud, yet Jungkook mistakes it for your love.
Whatever you do on a daily basis, whatever you do based on your nature, Jungkook mistakes it for a confession that he wasnโt even supposed to hear until the end of the week.
He wasnโt wrong about the fact that you love him โ what heโs wrong about is his assumption that your silence around him when itโs just the two of you, right now while you lose your mind over an assignment as youโre dressed in last weekโs sweater and last semesterโs horror, is your confession.
โIโm sorry, Y/N,โ Jungkook winces, gently patting you on the shoulder as youโre yet to digest his rejection. โBut I just donโt think weโll work out.โ
( โก )ย
You theorized that getting over Jungkook would be fairly easy on the chance that he rejects you after your confession.
You figure that Jungkook himself as a concept would be drastically difficult to move on from because he was just so lovable. He doesnโt know how to read a room and itโs one of his better quirks when youโre worrying over nothing. He doesnโt know much about knowing when to let up, and it comes in clutch when heโs pushing you to wholeheartedly do an assignment even if youโre already burnt out from crying.
Jungkook, as a concept, is indestructible. Heโs the everyday variant of the goodness that some frat guys possess occasionally. Heโs the realistic, attainable version of a main lead in a manhwa thatโs only perfect 1/4 into the plot.ย
Heโs the manifestation of every good deed a stranger has done for you, except heโs someone you know with your heart and not just someone you could sketch from memory.ย
With that, you also figured that moving on from Jungkook canโt be that hard because he was too out of reach despite being in the same friend group as you. Surely, it wouldnโt be so catastrophically hard to move on from a guy who just gasps for air every five minutes when heโs in charge of cooking in the BBQ hangout (instead of using the exhaust like a normal person), or from a guy who thinks citing references for a paper is only a suggestion.
The funny thing about it all is that you never actually confessed to Jungkook.
Actually (and contrary to the assumptions of the other friends you have from your circle), youโve never said it to his face that you do have a crush on him. Youโre ultimately known to be the friendliest person to ever walk the campus, and while not the most confrontational, they atleast expected for you to confess to Jungkook in your own way.
What actually happened was that Jungkook read through you โ he does happen to be right about your feelings for him! Heโs the second friendliest person right beneath you, and so the way he rejected you should never sting this much.
Jungkook thought it out meticulously. He read into the way you spent extra attention listening to him with your eyes practically gleaming. He read into the way youโd lag back behind him and hold him by his wrist whenever you were all crossing the street. Hell, he even read into the way you would take a shot at opening the extremely tight water bottle from the vending machine before everyone else.
The funny, tragic thing about it is that whilst Jungkook wasnโt wrong about pinpointing your feelings for him โ you never confessed.
Jeon Jungkook, the second, ultimate friendliest man that your university has ever known, rejected you without even hearing the actual words from you.
Heโs turned his back on you even before you could reach him, and the realization sinks in you unsettlingly. You never expected for him to like you back because it would be unfair of you, and you knew that; what just happened to hurt you most was that Jungkook didnโt even think twice.
He hadnโt given you the chance to pour your heart out at the very least.
He hadnโt even given you the space to breathe right after the rejection, because he skips and puts a smile on before winking, telling you that heโll never speak of it again because you must probably be embarrassed.
The funniest thing about it all is that you arenโt embarrassed โ youโre actually devastated about it.
Itโs an odd event for Jungkook to feel lonely because with such a big friend group, he never thought heโd feel a little empty despite literally rubbing elbows in a circular table. He never thought heโd come to be a little annoyed at Jimin and his routine, playful, borderline offensive banter heโd always have with you at the top of the morning, and he never thought heโd even be more annoyed over the absence of it.
Thereโs one less laugh in the circle. One less bag strewn underneath the table, one less coffee order written on the notes app, and one less person to look for when hanging out.
Youโre missing from the friend group, and oddly enough, Jungkook seems to be the most devastated about it.
โWhy is Y/N not here?โ he asks in the middle of Jin retelling his drunken fishing story, grabbing the attention of everyone in the table and maybe just about everyone elseโs in the common area with the way his voice is frantic. โAnd why is she there with the new kid instead?โ
Everyone flits through separate conversations after Jungkookโs interruption, some even wincing to themselves because although they know about your admiration for the guy and not your confession-that-wasnโt-one, they figure that nothing good could come out of Jungkook sucker-punching the new kid in his head.
โI donโt know, man. Buddy system, maybe?โ Jin shrugs, stealing his food because it was obvious that Jungkookโs attention is everywhere but himself and the table.
Jungkook snorts, crossing his arms tightly to the point that even he feels a little suffocated. His entire face is crumpled with hurt, eyebrows furrowed out of frustration when you still arenโt looking at him; when youโre still not looking at him with confusion in your eyes, silently telling him off for glaring.
โBuddy system? Weโre in uni. Who the fuck would bully that guy?โ
โBy the looks of it, probably you.โ
โWhatโs that supposed to mean?โ he huffs, refusing to unclench his fists on his thighs.
โWell, whatโs it to you that Y/Nโs hanging out with someone new? What are you so heated for?โ Jin elaborates, eyes flitting to you again.
Jungkook could only glare at you.
โWhat are you so nosy for?โ he asks defensively, leaning back on his chair in a faux display of relaxation when all he wants to do is to remove the stupid smile on the guyโs face as he watches you talk.
Unlike Jungkook, Yoongiโs not stupid at all โ in fact, heโs been vigilantly aware of Jungkookโs glare on the side of his face ever since you sat in front of him.
Yoongiโs not stupid, so he angles himself in a way that Jungkook gets to see him more. He doesnโt know the guy personally, but he does know of him and his โcharmโ that seems to make everyone go nuts for him.ย
If looks could kill, then Yoongi wouldโve already had mourners at his feet, but if provocation could poison, then Jungkook would already be frothing at the mouth.
The thing is, Yoongi doesnโt even know about your admiration nor your foiled confession to Jungkook. The latter hasnโt even done anything personally to him.ย
All he knows is that youโre in a big friend group and that you chose to sit with him, your friend whom you share a couple of advanced classes with but not a friend-friend like Jungkook is, and that youโre very easy on the eyes and admirable yourself if he thinks about it (he doesnโt need much time to ponder over it) โ and, that he doesnโt really like being glared at.
โNo really, I insist!โ he laughs, pulling out a handwritten reviewer from his backpack with a grin. โI donโt know anybody else who likes making reviewers anymore by hand, so really, youโre just perfect to get them.โ
โBut you worked so hard on them,โ you gasp, eyes already widening in both surprise and awe at the thick stack of papers in front of you. Yoongiโs handwriting and formatting are perfect; thereโs no unnecessary calligraphy, the vividness of the highlighter is just right, and thereโs even sticky notes at the bottom for additional details and references you could cross-check. โI.. I donโt want you to feel that Iโm taking advantage-โฆโ
โBut I offered! You didnโt ask for reviewers from me shamelessly like every other opportunist does,โ Yoongi laughs, throwing his head back as he slides the papers closer to you. โIโd be a really shitty senior not to give you any help. If anything, I think you deserve even better than-โฆโ
Jungkook canโt resist.
Jungkook canโt take any more of watching you and Yoongi push and pull over whatever topic he canโt hear nor force Jin to eavesdrop on. He canโt take another second of seeing you be so happy talking to a guy that he doesnโt know, so much so that he comes up to you without a second thought.
โHey,โ he greets, his body only turned to you, completely ignoring Yoongi and blocking him off from your sight. โYou didnโt order any coffee.โ
You angle your body slightly to excuse yourself, except Jungkook conveniently happens to mirror your every move, confusing you even more. โOh, I wasnโt feeling like it,โ you trail, looking up at him in confusion while Yoongi could see right through him.
โReally?โ Jungkook replies, the smile on his face being far from amused, eyes narrowed as he tries to catch up with the own annoyance that he harbors. โBecause Iโm seeing two coffees right now, and oneโs in front of you, soโฆโ he trails, shrugging his shoulders exaggeratedly.
Jungkookโs jaw is still clenched, along with his fists by his sides. Heโs standing tall between you and Yoongi with his shoulders squared and his face steeled, the immovable forces that are him and the unnamed pit in his stomach starting to garner attention.
Namjoon has his phone out.ย
Hoseok only has one cheek remaining on the seat because heโs ready to stand up and collect bets.ย
Youโre still sitting, mostly confused, when you realize the attention thatโs starting to build towards the three of you.
โYes, Jungkook. Great observation,โ you snicker, the discreet roll of your eyes making him take offense.
โOh okay, I see. So you were lying by saying that you werenโt feeling it, and I donโt get the hold-up of you-โฆโ
โWhat did you come here for now, Jungkook?โ you angrily whisper, keeping your head down as you retain your gaze on him and lightly tap at the table to indicate to Yoongi for the both of you to move. โItโs a little far-fetched for you to come all over here to pick a fight about coffee.โ
Jungkook huffs, turning his head back to Yoongi behind him because he most definitely saw your signal. The lazy, amused gaze of Yoongi is what sets him off even further, the anger in his eyes unmistakable, except you recognize it for only what it is and not jealousy, because Jungkook doesnโt see you like that.
Or atleast thatโs what the both of you assume.
Jungkook, your best friend, scoffs loudly.
โYou sound so defensive right now.โ
( โก )ย
You donโt respond much to Jungkookโs calls.ย
As a matter of fact, you donโt respond much to Jungkook at all.
You donโt show up whenever heโs present, meaning that youโre only magically available whenever thereโs half of your friend group at the most because if thereโs more, then the search for the missing members would ensue, then youโd end up squished in a long table next to Jungkook again.
Itโs very much like him to form grudges, yet he canโt even tell if heโs capable of having one towards you. Jungkook, with all his chest and afflictions, wants so badly to hate you because youโve been blowing him off ever since he literally and physically came between you and Yoongi.
He apologized to you for that (and not to Yoongi because he didnโt really matter to him at all), and he doesnโt know the answer for it yet because his messages still remain unread. Heโs enlisted the help of your mutual friends on various occasions by trying to get them to give all his little treats for you, yet you refuse them as soon as you catch wind that itโs from Jungkook.
He even tried studying for real in the library in hopes that reverse psychology (he thinks thatโs what itโs called) would work and that thinking he doesnโt want you to come would make you do the opposite, yet it still doesnโt work. Jungkookโs already mad that he studied for nothing (heโs more interested in getting you to notice him than to actually learn), but he becomes even more heated to realize that your anger for him is just directed at him alone.
You still talk to your best friends, with the exception of him, and Jungkook has never been more envious of people who are apparently of the same status as him.
Jungkook wants you to drag him like you drag Sora to the nail salon and have you whisper at his ear to tell the nail tech not to cut your cuticles because youโve been afraid of getting them done since that 1/34th part of a medical drama episode you watched on your phone.
Jungkook wants you to complain to him like you complain to Namjoon when youโre frustrated with a professor whom youโre convinced is only critical to you and no one else, later making him promise not to tell anyone else from your friend group because they like said professor.
Jungkook wants you to run to him as you always did, just because you feel like it. He wants to sit in silence with you again and put his hand on your knee when youโre in the verge of tears just looking at your schedule for the week.
He wants to stand guard again outside the bathroom door of the expensive coffee shop because itโs either the lock is broken or because Namjoon's managed to instill in you the existence of ghosts in cold spots.
He wants to be the Jungkook like youโve always known, again, because it seems like youโve forgotten him completely. You have the Yoongi now, it seems like โ the smarter, more composed, and more charismatic variant of him that he wants to get rid of because Jungkook never predicted the existence of him.
Even more, Jungkook didnโt even entertain the concept of him being replaced because it was always the two of you together, even in a sea of friends.ย
Heโs your best friend, your confidant even, but nothing more โ all Jungkook feels is that heโs even less than the status the both of you are assigned to be.ย
Heโs angry and sad and disappointed all at the same time because he thought he had almost lost you since he rejected your confession. You were fine; you were as fine as you could be for someone rejected when it comes to yearning to be his, and yet the moment you let Yoongi in, Jungkook feels as if you threw everything the both of you had just for him.
โJust so you know, student-teacher relationships are illegal,โ he corners you one morning in your dorm, two godforsaken weeks after chasing you around the campus yet turning up empty.
โWhat the fuck are you on about?โ you immediately scrunch your nose at him, the accusation he throws at you being too farfetched to the point that you donโt even think of shutting the door at him, ignoring Eunjiโs betrayal for you by pretending to come over.
โWhat am I on about?โ Jungkook exasperates, the scoff that leaves him making you feel small in front of him. โYouโre literally the one whoโs getting chummy with fucking Yoongi of all people!"
"Yoongi's a teaching assistant! He's our senior! Do you not know that?"
"Do I look like I'm interested in any other people outside of our circle?" he retorts, lips turned up in a snarl. Jungkook provokes you with a sarcastic glare, the look on his face enough to make you throw your head back in irritation.
"Come on, even Jin and Jimin are friends with Yoongi and-..."
"This is not about them!"ย
"But you just-..." you stop as soon Jungkook interrupts you, losing your gaze on him for a single second to close your door and when you look back, you find that heโs already comfortable being vindictive on your bed, his arms crossed and his back straight.
"Also, teacher and teaching assistant both have the word teach so it's literally still illegal," he narrows his eyes sarcastically, the tone to his voice unclear despite his words suggesting otherwise. "You look so stupid right now."
"Jungkook can you stop?!" you burst, your temples stinging at the back and forth that Jungkookโs thrown the both of you in. โWhat the hell is going on with you?"
Jungkook had sworn to himself up and down that he has so much stuff to pick with you. He knows he has so much baggage to unpack and how much shit he has to bring up, even if itโs only been two weeks with you. Heโs partly relieved that youโre in front of him and you still havenโt fled, yet a large part of him is beyond frustrated with you because you donโt even look like as if your time apart has taken a toll on you.
Between the two of you, itโs only Jungkook who looks like his distraught has manned him completely beyond surrender. Even coming to see you by hatching a plan with a hesitant friend is something he considers an act beyond surrender โ whatever the space is between surrender and demand is where Jungkook lies with you.
"No, what's going on with you!โ he argues, standing to his feet to come face-to-face with you. โYou can't just spin this around when I've done nothing but be a good friend to you!"
"You think I'm not being a good friend to you just because I don't spend every single minute attached to you? I can still hang out outside of our friend group without being-..."
"This is not about our friend group!" Jungkook emphasizes once again, the tell-tale sting of tears behind his eyes coming up because he feels as if you canโt hear him no matter how much he repeats himself. โThis is about us and how you abandoned me ever since I rejected you!"
"I didn't abandon you, Jungkook!" you spit, pushing at his chest lightly with your finger to get him to back up from your face yet he refuses to. Heโs still insistent at staring you down with his jaw clenched, eyes wide and unblinking because he knows that if he moves even just a millimeter askew, heโd cry. โYou didn't even give me the chance to confess to you! You rejected me without even hearing me out. Do you think I would still be able to talk to you, face to face like how you want so badly, as if nothing happened?"
"The answer would've been the same even if you confessed,โ he grits with his chest heavy, not at the way he keeps holding his breath in order not to break down in front of you, but because you look at him with so much disdain that it makes him want to puke.
"Do you not think I know that?" you laugh humorlessly, gnawing on your bottom lip as you donโt drop his gaze. โDo you think I didn't prepare for that possibility? I knew what could've happened if I confessed and I'd still be okay with it, Jungkook!" you raise your voice, throat already giving out at the slightest pressure because you know you lost the fight ever since you let him in. "What I'm not okay with is that you didn't even give me the chance.โ
Itโs evil, really, with the way no amount of self-pity could ever pull you from the grave youโve dug up. You went for Jungkook, carrying all grief you knew you were bound to feel, and yet you still feel unprepared. You still feel unworthy even moping for someone like Jungkook because not even his rejection, nor anyone elseโs acceptance of your admiration by some sort of miracle, is enough to make you feel like youโd be missed.
Your two weeks without Jungkook is your rehearsal for the two months, then two years, then two forevers eventually without him by your side. You had still been able to live by yourself and with your friends, excluding him, and you thought you were fine because it feels as if nothing had changed.
You thought you were fine until Jungkook gets in your face to tell you that itโs not, and all over again, youโre reminded of how desperately you want to be loved by him to the point that youโd rather drown in your own pity to try and preserve whateverโs left of you.
"I told you the answer would-..."
"Shut up!" you cry, steeling your nerves when you realize that Jungkookโs angrily crying in front of you, wiping at his eyes hastily. โFor the love of god, shut up!"
Jungkook stays quiet, not because you told him to, but because nothing good comes to mind when he realizes that youโre crying because of him.
"See? You don't even get where I'm coming from because you're not even giving me the chance to explain myself without making it all about you,โ you sob, finally pushing him away, to which he lets you. "That's the problem with you, Jungkook. You're too self-involved."
"Not true," Jungkook whispers, shaking his head earnestly even if he feels the stupidest he has ever did in his life in front of you.
He follows your steps out of routine even if his brain had convinced his system that he hates you just seconds ago, arms instinctively trying to crowd you when you almost trip on the flooring on your way to the coat rack.
"Since you keep insisting that I abandoned you," you chuckle dryly before grabbing your jacket, turning your back on Jungkook and on your own space, which had just been the default hangout place of the both of you for the longest time, in pursuit of your own quiet without him. "Let me follow through."
Jungkook doesnโt want to tell you how desperately he wants you to want him again, to love him as you already did, and neither do you.
( โก )ย
The perks of having a big friend group is that the absence of several members wouldnโt make that much of a difference when it comes to hanging out. It would still sustain itself without a few extra voices joining in on the chatter watching movies and the bullying when it comes to a forgotten birthday greeting here and there.
The downside of being in one, is that said big friend group doesnโt matter at all to Jungkook when youโre not in it.
The lengths that your friend (read: a word that Jungkookโs come to abhor) has went through since your fight at your dorm are basically incomprehensible because heโs fully involved himself.
Heโs pining after you pathetically, just like how you had always dreamed of, yet seeing him take turn after turn just trying to gain your forgiveness for something youโve always pitied yourself for makes you feel guilty.
In Jungkookโs defense, he wants to be forgiven and loved (again) as desperately as he acts on an everyday basis. Not only is he pathetic in the sense that heโs hopeless, but also pathetic in the light that he wants the entirety of you (stubbornness and occasional sharpness included) to rub off on him.
โI know Iโm stupid. I-I.. I know that I was unfair for not even letting you confess your feelings because I felt like dying when you started to ignore me,โ he mumbles to your bedsheets, his legs crossed on the ground and his head muffled by the fabric because he doesnโt even want to sit next to you in fear of you revoking his chance to apologize in person, again, as if thatโs not what he had been doing the past weeks. โY/N, you donโt deserve someone as stupid as me and I hate it so, so bad.โ
The sound of Jungkook apologizing to you has already been repeated enough to the point youโve learned when to tune him out, but with the way his heart precedes his tone this time, you stop folding your clothes in favor of Jungkook whoโs just two seconds away from passing out on your bed by fabric conditioner-bathed quilt-induced suffocation, to which he couldnโt pass up on because it was your scent and he missed hugging you.
โI canโt catch up with you on anything that youโre talking about with Yoongi. The only times I open a book are when I want to look at you but I donโt want you to see me. I canโtโ I can barely even talk to you without feeling like Iโm beneath you,โ he admits lowly, the truth of his rejection finally springing up a little too much, and almost a little too late. โI thought, stupidly, that we wouldnโt work because you deserve someone better.โ
โI donโt need you to catch up with me, Jungkook,โ you murmur, lightly slapping his cheeks because he looks sleepy from all the sniffing heโs done on your quilt, but really, his eyes are only narrowed into slits because he feels like heโs about to cry. Again.
โBut I need to, b-because when we run out of things to talk about that youโre willingly to dumb down to my level, what else could we catch up on?โย
โYouโre not stupid. I just say-โฆโ
โNo. Donโt make excuses for me,โ he laughs lightly, still sat on your carpet obediently like a dog because he doesnโt want to push your boundaries. โIโm beneath you and I didnโt want to drag you down with me because I.. I didnโt feel that you deserve me,โ he confesses. โBut I want you so badly, Y/N. You have no idea.โ
Jungkook wants you so badly, that in your insistence of self-pity, it was his self-preservation that led him to cry by himself when you finally left the library after not-confessing to him.
He wants you so badly, that in his fit of self-preservation disguised into stubbornness, he had tamped down his desperation for you.
โI want to catch up with you, not you to slow down for me,โ Jungkook rests his chin on your thigh, his wide, pleading eyes looking up at you. โIโm so sorry, my baby. Iโm so, so, so sorry for being stupid enough to let you go the first time,โ he tilts his head, resting his cheek on your awaiting hand. โPlease. Iโm just begging you to slow down for me this one time,โ Jungkook swallows the lump in his throat, nudging your hand gently with his cheek. โPlease let me look stupid trying to earn you.โ
Jungkook, without fail, tells you how desperately he wants to be loved by you.
enigma
(n.) uhยทnigยทma
a person or thing that is mysterious or difficult to understand
friendly neighbourhood spider-man has a spidey friend. except she enjoys sabotaging his plans at every given moment.
when police come forward stating the increase of missing persons, spider-man seeks help from you, another spider-person, but who doesn't enjoy the hero lifestyle.
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The afternoon sky darkened as Jungkook swung through the busy streets of Seoul - after retrieving his bag from the Lotte World Tower. He found it difficult to concentrate since he had encountered the Spider-Woman. He had so many questions about her. Who was she? Where did she come from? How did she get powers and abilities like his own?
Being so deep is thought, Jungkook nearly missed one of the bearings on the Gwangjin Bridge as he glided through the air back into the district.
He needed to get to Namjoon's, fast. His breathing was growing erratic, his brain not slowing down from the overwhelming encounter he had.
Jungkook couldn't wrap his head around it. If there was more than one Spider-Person, why did she wait until now to come forward? Not all the other times he was fighting crime? There were so many possibilities of who this woman could be. Jungkook would be lying if the thought of multiverses hadn't crossed his mind. But that seemed too good to be true.
Rain began to gently fall from the darkening clouds, droplets hitting against his skin, the sensation cooling. Fog now rolling in, Jungkook's vision dampened, the city light illuminating what it could in the thickening mist.
Luckily for him, he was now night in front of Namjoon's apartment, sticking against the wall next to his bedroom window. Steadying himself, he leaned over and chapped on the window, moving back and waiting patiently for his friend.
Not even ten seconds later, the window opened and Namjoon's head poked out, looking from side to side until his eyes fell upon Jungkook.
Without a word, Namjoon pulled away and stepped back, allowing his friend to clamber through the window. Namjoon inspected him, checking for any injuries he may need to clean or stitch up.
"Hmph, this may be the first time I've seen you with no injuries," Namjoon joked, crossing his arms.
Jungkook was silent, pulling the mask off over his head, breathing intensifying. Namjoon's joking demeanor faltered upon seeing his friends stunned expression. Without a word, he moved out of his bedroom, rushing to grab Jungkook something to eat and drink.
It was unusual for Jungkook so be so quiet, especially after fighting crime. He was usually bubbly and excitable, no matter how beat up he got in the process. He would always have something to say. It's why it worried Namjoon so much.
Upon returning with some snacks and water, Jungkook sat on the floor, bag discarded, arm resting against his bent knee while the other lay flat. It was a sight Namjoon wasn't used to seeing, and he couldn't help but let the worry creepy in.
"Kook?"
As if his name pulled him out of a trance, Jungkook began to ramble off. Namjoon exhaled, relieved his friend wasn't hurt internally, but also irritated at his friends lack of response when he first entered his home.
It was difficult to keep up with Jungkook, Namjoon only catching a few words here and there as his friend rambled on and on. However, he did manage to catch the words, "Spider-Person."
"Wait. Back up a bit. There's another Spider-Person?" Namjoon asked, trying to wrap his head around the situation.
Jungkook agreed, rambling off once again about everything that had happened. He was speaking too fast, and Namjoon couldn't keep up.
"Jungkook!" Namjoon yelled, his raised voice suddenly grasping Jungkook's attention. "I need you to take a deep breath. Exhale and tell me, slowly."
Namjoon's words seemed to have finally gotten through to Jungkook. He paused, took a deep breath - as his friend asked him to - and felt the panic escape his body, finally relaxing.
Jungkook was unaware of just how much this had effected him. In his defense, it wasn't an everyday thing to come across another Spider-Person, let alone them being the complete opposite of him. It filled him with a feeling of unease that he couldn't quite explain.
"To put it plainly," Jungkook began, "there's someone else with my powers... my abilities."
"And how can you be sure?" Namjoon questioned.
"Well first of all, I met her at the top of the Lotte World Tower," Jungkook explained, as if saying that stated the obvious. "Second of all, she was in a suit like mine and was literally sticking to the glass."
"Okay, you've proven your point," Namjoon replied, rolling his eyes at his friends sarcasm.
"And if that wasn't enough proof for you. I could... feel her."
"What do you mean feel her?"
Jungkook barely understood it himself. He was used to the spider senses he would feel when he was fighting criminals, or protecting civilians. But the sense he felt when she was around him was different. And he couldn't explain how.
"My spider senses were... different, than usual."
"So, we're going off you feeling a little different?" Namjoon asked.
Jungkook scowled at his friend. One thing Namjoon could never quite wrap his head around, was the fact that Jungkook's sixth sense had been heightened along with his strength when he first became Spider-Man. Even with legitimate proof of Jungkook's abilities, it was always something Namjoon was skeptical of.
"Joon, this is different. And I want to know who she is."
"You realise there are nearly ten million people in Seoul alone right? And they may not actually be from Seoul. What if they are from the country side? And they are here on holiday. Hell they could even be foreign," Namjoon countered.
"I don't think she's foreign. And I don't think she's from the country side either."
"And what makes you say that?"
Jungkook paused, smiling sheepishly at his friend. "Gut feeling?"
"Oh my god, you're hopeless."
The two of them bickered back and forward, each one stating points, and the other countering. Namjoon had to admit, however, he had never seen Jungkook so determined - and sure - of his theories. In the end, that is what made him cave.
"Okay, so you're convinced she lives in Seoul. How do you plan on meeting her again?" Namjoon sighed.
"Right now, honestly, I think it'll be best to wait her out. My guess is that she'll appear when police are involved in catching criminals. She seems to despise them, and that's what worries me," Jungkook explained.
Namjoon was confused. Trying to think of a reason that this Spider-Woman could detest the authorities so much. It wasn't uncommon for people to dislike the police for their choices, but to hate them to such an extend had him thinking.
"Maybe she was a criminal?"
"That's a good point. Which is this case, isn't good for us if she's swinging about causing trouble," Jungkook agreed, nodding his head slightly.
"I somehow don't think she'd do that."
Jungkook gave Namjoon a puzzled look. Why wouldn't she do it? She has every perfect opportunity to do so. Her identity is hidden with her suit, she can escape situations with ease and would have no problem taking down the average person. The only person who would be in her way, would be him. Namjoon sensing Jungkook's confusion let out a sigh.
"Think about it, Kook. If she wanted to cause trouble, she'd be doing it well before she allowed you to know of her. Why all of a sudden would she show herself?"
"That is a good point," Jungkook mumbled, looking away. "But there's also the possibility of her doing that so she's knows I have competition."
The bickering between the two continued. Each discussing different reasons Spider-Woman suddenly showed up. Their conversation had travelled on into the night, neither one realizing the time until their stomachs growled.
"You just wanna stay here tonight?" Namjoon asked, grunting slightly as he stood up. "I can heat up some leftovers I made yesterday."
"Nah, I should probably go home. I tend to spend one too many nights here when I've been out helping people," Jungkook explained, eyes falling upon his mask.
He stared at it, a feeling of unease returning, but this one felt dissimilar. It was the type of dread you'd feel when you suspected something wrong, and in the end it was you who ended up getting hurt.
"Kook," Namjoon began, "just because there's another Spider-Person, doesn't make you any less special, or important than you already are."
With the truth and realization of Jungkook's deepest thoughts and feelings coming out, he couldn't help but get emotional. For the longest time, Jungkook was the superhero everyone relied on. The person who brought joy to kids, and faith to adults. The feeling of replacement, or even sabotage danced across his mind more than he'd like to admit. And Namjoon had seen right through his act.
"Is this the real reason for your paranoia?"
Jungkook didn't say anything, just nodded slightly in reply. Namjoon exhaled, shuffling across the floor and hugging his friend tightly. No more words were exchanged between the two, both simply appreciating the silence of their company. Finally regaining some composure, Jungkook pulled away.
"I should get going. Thank you, Joon, I really don't know what I'd do if you weren't here," Jungkook spoke softly.
Namjoon snorted, patting his friends back lazily as they stood. One pat hit a little too hard making Jungkook wince, but smile nonetheless.
"Don't worry 'bout it, Kook. What are best friends for."
Jungkook grinned, grabbing his mask and backpack. Quickly checking inside his bag for anything that may be missing, he concluded everything was still there.
"If it's alright with you, can you keep my bag from now on if I need to go? I don't trust this Spider-Woman," Jungkook spoke honestly.
"Yeah, shouldn't be a problem," Namjoon replied, shrugging.
With one last grin, Jungkook pulled his mask over his face and climbed out of Namjoon's window with ease. Sticking to the wall, he quickly checked no one way looking before swinging back into the city.
Seoul always look so breathtaking during the night. The way the lights illuminated the darkness was something you could truly appreciate when you could see it from up high. The nights cooling air breezed against Jungkook's skin, relaxing him. He had felt so tense since he had met Spider-Woman, that finally relaxing felt weird.
Not even five minutes later, Jungkook was at his apartment, climbing in through the window he always left open in case he had to come home in his suit. He was lucky he lived on the fourth floor, otherwise someone would definitely be breaking into his home.
Mask pulled off again, he let of a sigh, relieved to be in his own space. There was nothing quite like your own home after a long day out. Especially in the city. It had only occurred to Jungkook just how tired he was when he had shuffled into his bedroom and sat down on his bed.
Sluggishly, he removed his suit stripping down into his underwear. With the suit being skin tight, it often caused Jungkook to sweat. A sigh escaped his lips as he ran his fingers across the tendinous intersections of his abs, huffing at the feeling of sweat.
Reluctantly, he stood up from his bed, and pulled himself towards the bathroom. Showering was the last thing on his mind, but he knew he'd regret it in the morning if he didn't do it now.
Turning on the shower, Jungkook stripped himself of his boxers, and looked at himself in the bathroom mirror for a moment. It always surprised him how many scars he had. From small, every day scars to life threatening ones.
He gently traced the large scar that stretched cross the middle of his chest and down diagonally to his waist. Jungkook was hospitalized for a week after the injury, worrying both his parents and Namjoon.
He of course had to lie about why he was injured so badly, claiming that he was one of the many injured during the collapse of a building. When in actuality he was trying to save as many people, and in the process had been slashed by a large piece of glass as he protected a child from harm.
The mirror had steamed up, pulling Jungkook out of his daze. Moving to step into the shower, a sigh of relief couldn't help but escape his lips as the warm water hit against his skin.
Despite being a superhero, at the end of the day, Jungkook was still human. And that meant sore muscles and aching joints. The hot water hit against those spots, having Jungkook almost melt into the heat of the shower.
Hands against the wall, he looked to the floor, watching as the water swirled around the drain. No thoughts clouded his mind, just simple peace.
Eventually, he stood up straight and washed himself, the stickiness he felt from his sweat earlier now gone. All Jungkook wanted now, was his bed. Wasting no time, he finished off his shower and stepped out, drying himself off quickly and hurrying to his bed.
Sleep came quickly, it consuming almost as soon as he climbed into bed. No dreams came to him either, the shower fully cleansing him of his worries and stress.
The morning sun beamed through Jungkook's partially broken blinds - mainly due to him climbing in and out of the window the second something goes wrong in the city. He groaned, the light stinging his eyes behind his eyelids.
With a sigh, he sat up, rubbing his eyes and grabbing his phone under his pillow. Hair messy and tangled from it drying as he slept, he yawned, eyes squinting as he looked at the time on his phone.
There was a pause.
"Holy shit!"
Jungkook fell out of bed, realising that his first class started in ten minutes. Standing up, he rushed into the bathroom, webbing his toothbrush, in an attempt to save time. Frantically brushing his teeth, he ran back into his bedroom, stuffing his spider suit into his bag, trying not to gag at the smell of his sweat lingering from yesterday's job. Jungkook was fast, hauling his t-shirt over his head while trying to pull a pair of boxers up over his hips.
He couldn't help but squeal as he lost balance, the sound making him pause for a minute to question himself.
"How the fuck do I even make a sound like that?!"
Now only needing his shoes, he huffed and grunted as he looked everywhere for them. They were scattered over his apartment, one found under his bed and the other laying in the hallway. He wasted no time bursting out into the hallway, hopping on one foot, trying to get his right shoe on properly, while trying to close the door.
Jungkook ran, swinging his backpack over his shoulder, skipping every second or third stair, trying to save time. The journey was swift. Jungkook dodged and evaded the busy streets of Seoul, the familiar sounds of car horns blaring falling on deaf ears.
Jungkook's heart was hammering in his ears, the beating being the only thing he could focus on as his speed increased. Phone in hand, he held it up, the screen brightening as it turned on. Eight Fifty-Five.
"Come on, come on, come on," Jungkook breathed out, rounding the last corner, the college in sight. He smiled, eyes hopeful when he reached the gate, hunching over to catch his breath.
The bell rang, indicating the first period was due to begin.
"Slept in?"
Jungkook looked up, seeing his friend holding out his water bottle for him. He only nodded, taking the bottle and gulping down the drink.
"Yeah," Jungkook replied, gasping slightly. He cleared his throat. "I forgot to set an alarm."
"Hm, well you're lucky classes aren't on today then aren't you?" Jungkook's eyes shot to Namjoon, who couldn't help but look amused. "Did you forget about the Daedongje that's coming up?"
Jungkook opened his mouth, but no words left. He was in disbelief that he had forgotten something so important. Namjoon chuckled at his friends expression. Jungkook's forgetfulness was always something that amused him, despite the fact he could remember every fight he'd ever been in as Spider-Man.
"There's no classes on today, considering many people are planning for the festival. It's why we were taking tests and mock exams yesterday."
"Right, I completely forgot," Jungkook sighed, handing Namjoon back his bottle. "This just means we'll be bombarded with questions all day."
"But it means we can discuss who that Spider-woman may be," Namjoon countered.
Jungkook shrugged. "Good point. Let's head inside and get something to eat, I'm starving."
Namjoon agreed, following behind Jungkook as they entered the building. The corridors were busier than usual - if it could even get any busier - with students pinning up posters, advertising food stalls or their booths for the upcoming event.
"Do have you given any thought to who it may be?"
"I don't have a clue, I'm afraid," Namjoon replied. "Considering there's over ten million options."
"I find it highly unlikely that-" Jungkook paused, stopping in the middle of the corridor.
That familiar feeling of unease returned. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, body tensing as he felt her presence once again. Ears ringing as he honed in on his senses, trying the pinpoint the source of his tension. Namjoon stood beside him, repeating his name, but it was muffled, as though Namjoon stood on the other side of a wall. But as quickly as the feeling came, it was gone.
"Kook?" Namjoon asked again.
"She's here. She attends here."
Namjoon was silent, looking around the sea of students who spoke amongst themselves, trying to get any indication of something being off. Jungkook watched him, hands balled into fists in an attempt to take his mind off of her closeness.
For a moment, Namjoon stopped, staring off into the distance behind him. His eyes narrowed, locking eyes with someone for a split second. Her hood was up, hands stuffed into her pockets, face slightly shadowed. Though he didn't need to see her face to know who it was.
"You okay, Joon?" Jungkook asked, placing his hand onto his shoulder. Namjoon looked back, nodding.
"Yeah, you're spider tingle just weirds me out a little, I won't lie," Namjoon admitted with a small smile. "Let's get some breakfast."
Jungkook thought nothing of Namjoon's words. It was nothing new about Namjoon's view on his senses. Shrugging, he turned around, heading towards the cafeteria. Namjoon stood for a moment, looking behind him one last time, then following behind.
The college was open later than usual, many students had gone home early, resting up for another busy day, including Jungkook. Namjoon had decided to stay behind, claiming he wanted to help out a few of the committees with advertising this booths before he went home.
Jungkook had tried to stay, but Namjoon declined, claiming that if another police call was reporting, Jungkook would need to think of an excuse to leave again. Having decided it would be best to go home, in that case, Jungkook did, waving goodbye to his friend as he left.
Namjoon, however, didn't help like he claimed he would. He instead sat in the cafeteria, sitting and waiting. He was sure of who this Spider-Woman was, but wanted to confirm those suspicions.
It was close to nine at night when Namjoon left the college, choosing to take the longer way home than usual. His head was full of possibilities of how this encounter would go, if there even was one. At the end of the day, Jungkook's senses could have been wrong, a possibility Namjoon didn't rule out.
He turned a corner, heading into a small alleyway. He had began to lose hope on his theory, thinking that he was, in fact, wrong. The thought left his mind as soon as it entered, when he was suddenly pinned against the wall. He grunted on impact, looking at the sheer webbing that wrapped around his body.
Namjoon looked up, squinting into the darkness, though he surprisingly wasn't as scared as he thought he would be. The woman was silent as she stepped out of the shadows.
"Good evening," Namjoon casually spoke.
"Hello, Namjoon."
"Ah, so we do know one another," Namjoon smiled.
"I assumed you knew when you saw me this morning?" she asked, pulling down her hood.
"There's no harm in making sure. Now, do you mind letting me go... Y/n?"
You didn't speak, instead walking over and pulling the webbing off of him. Namjoon quietly thanked you, stepping closer to you.
"I assume you have questions?" Namjoon nodded. "I'll answer then, but you must promise me something."
"And what is that?" Namjoon asked, eyes filled with curiosity.
WOW! Hello lovelies! It has been a WHILE INDEED! I apologise so much for the long wait, writer's block was rough indeed. And to be honest, I am still experiencing it, but I wanted to get something out
seeing Jungkook's b'day yesterday gave me a little motivation, but please do not expect me to be uploading how I usually was before, I'm trying my best! :(
anyway! let me know what you thought! and I can't wait for you to read the coming chapters when they come out!
All Banners & line breaks by the talented @awrkives
Series Summary: The Avvar are old and the Red-Lion clan goes back to the earliest days, when Tyrdda Bright-Axe refused to join Thelm Gold-Handed in crossing the Waking Sea to plunder the Golden City, the alleged seat of the Old Gods. Instead her people split from the Almarri and became the Avvar clans, settling in the Frostback mountains and the forests and along the coasts and burrowed into nature and found new ways to commune with the gods --sometimes through struggle, sometimes through strife, and many times through victory. There have been many exceptional Avvar over the generations. Thanes, Augurs, Skalds, Warriors, Healers, and Hunters. It is rare though, in one generation, for there to be so many Legendary characters. It may begin to feel like the gods are planning something.
Note: While these stories take place in the Dragon Age fantasy world of Thedas, it is not necessary to know really anything about those video games/world, especially if you read the stories in order. I take a lot of creative license anyway :)
Recommended Reading Order:
The Lowlander (Complete)
Avvar Warrior Jungkook x Noble Halfelf OC
Summary: Out of the frying pan and into the fire: Marguerite is already used to life as a barely-tolerated outcast, being the elven daughter of an Orlesian noble, but after her travel party is attacked, she goes from one hostage situation to the next. Sure, her new "man" is brave and handsome and one of the best warriors in the Hold, but he's also hard-headed, impatient, and expects her to be the perfect Avvar woman. She refuses. She will not lose herself in this place. Anyway, she only has to endure him until she can figure out how to make her escape, or face an even worse evil at the end of a month...
CW: explicit sex, language, captor-captive trope & inversion, graphic violence, gore & grievous injuries, sexual assault, dub-con, power dynamics/imbalance, non-consensual touching, character death, murder, pregnancy loss & fertility issues, character death, period-typical sexism, loss of virginity, domestic violence, angst, fluff, smut, pining, depression, brief suicidal thoughts, hurt/comfort, really dark stressful times, loss, grief, drug use, alcohol use, HAPPY ENDING THOUGH I swear
Read entire work on AO3 | Read Chapter One on Tumblr
Asunder (Ongoing)
Avvar Warrior Taeyung x Avvar Mage OC
Technically the prequel to the Lowlander but finishes after The Lowlander
Summary: As son of the Thane, Teahyung's life is blessed, his family respected, and his life as a warrior charted from the moment his father claims leadership. As Taehyung's "blessed years" stack, glued together with violence and tragedy, his life begins to feel less like a gift from the gods and more like a burden. Do the gods really want what's best for him? Does he really want to be like his father? And when the woman he loves marries his best friend, is he really supposed to just accept it? How is he supposed to choose, Karmen or Jungkook?
CW: domestic violence (parent to child), graphic violence, raiding, character death, loss, depression, love triangle, emotional infidelity, divorce, explicit sex, explicit language, heartbreak, major pining, grievous injuries, series still in progress so I don't know everything yet
Read entire work on AO3 | Read chapter one on Tumblr
Like Fallen Leaves - The Drabbles
Read all on AO3
Jungkook & Mishka
- Expecting
- You Live To Annoy Me, Don't You?
- What She Wants, She Gets
- New Dad JK
Namjoon
- & Areum: I Like That About You
Reference Posts
Lowlander Braids
Jungkook commissioned art
Masks in Lowlander
Clothing in Lowlander
Some soundtrack submissions
.... The story doesn't end here, there will be more to come...
Taehyung is hurt, Jungkook is hurt and itโs all because of you. Youโre forced to face all of your mistakes and thereโs nowhere left for you to hide.
*Check the end for the authorโs note~
Part One | Part Two | Part 2.5 | Part Three | Part Four | Part 4.5 | Part Fiveย | Part Six |
Warnings: This is definitely not historically accurate so don't take this as a history lesson lmao, ptsd & wounds from battle, finding comfort where you least expect it. But also a lot of sexual tension & sexually explicit scenes. The trauma is not sexualised however. We are all adults here so if anything is triggering to you or simply not your taste, be mature and just keep scrolling. This is a work of fiction.
Worcount: 96.146 | Minors DNI you will be blocked & reported
a/n: i tried myself at poetry for the introduction fjasdfja i found it fitting for the story. which is funny because a lot of it is just yummy smut JFADJF but yall know me, smut can be romantic and poetic, after all sex is nothing less than souls connecting and sharing energies and this is highly romantic in my eyes โค also! i hope you don't mind that i added my own spice to it, your idea inspired me so fucking hard and my mind totally wandered as i worked on it <3 ps: happy birthday tete, i hope you still have a lovely life ahead of you โค
#01 - Returned Differently
#02 - Comfort
#03 - For The People
#04 - Indiscretion
#05 - Bittersweet Temptation
#06 - One Step Forward, Two Steps Back
#07 - It Has To Get Worse Before It Can Get Better
#08 - Giving In
If you enjoy a creator's work, please reblog it directly from them. Comments, of all lengths, are also very appreciated. ยฉborathae, 2026 โ my work isย copyrightedย andย no reposts or translationsย are allowed!!
The loud bass pulses through the sidewalk before you even reach the entranceโa black metal door. The club sits in a neighborhood that looks like itโs been forgotten on maps, or one people are too afraid to step foot in.
The pavement, covered with cigarette butts, old oil stains, and torn flyers, makes it feel like a ghost town. A few people stand outside the building, chatting and smoking. Old vehiclesโonly a handful, easy to countโare parked in the distance, looking almost abandoned under the dim streetlights.
With each step closer, the musicโs beat grows heavier and lower, like your own heartbeat. Thereโs no reason to be scaredโjust cautiousโas you sneak a glance at a bald, muscular man who looks intoxicated and ready to chew someoneโs head off.
This is no fancy club. There are no velvet ropes, no long lines, no excitement lingering in the air. At least, not for you.
If it werenโt for a twist of events, you would never come here voluntarily. Your outfit says otherwise, though.
You stand close to your friends, practically glued to their sides, as the man who looks like a straight-up junkie moves toward the clubโs door. Oh, heโs the bouncer.
As he eyes all of you with empty orbs, part of you wishes he would turn you away and not let you enter this place. Your wish isnโt fulfilled. The bouncer gives Mario a curt nod, and thatโs all it takes for your friend to lead the way.
As soon as the door opens, the music becomes sharper and clearer. Thereโs only a small space before it leads downstairs to the basement. This place is everything a mother would tell you to avoid.
Good thing you donโt have one.
Neon lights grow more visible with each step, covering the floor in flickering electric pink, acid green, and colors you donโt even get to notice as they shift too quickly. As you make it down to the main room, your mouth dropsโand so does your heart.
The place is packed, so much so that it makes you question if itโs really that good. The exterior aloneโthe entire neighborhoodโis just not it. How does Mario even know a place like this? How does he even know this part of town?
You make a mental note to question him later, because he sure as hell didnโt mention any of it. All he said was that the booze is cheap and the place is fine. If leaving means paying more for the few shots youโre about to have, so be it.
From the looks of it, everyone else is on board and follows him.
The air is thick with a mixture of scents you canโt even name. Thereโs a distinct smell of cigarettes, weed, and perfumeโthe rest, youโd rather not identify. By the time youโre out of here, youโll reek of this place and probably have to burn the nice dress youโre wearing.
Mario promised he was only dropping something off, so this should be quickโ in and out. It should be quick enough for you to grab a drink and hopefully head somewhere else.
El leans closer, her shoulder bumping into yours as she tries to be heard over the pounding music. Her voice still barely cuts through it.
โWhat is this place?โ
You follow her gazeโand thatโs when you see it.
Ahead of you, past the blur of bodies and neon light, thereโs a ring. Not the kind youโd expect. Not clean, not professional. A fence cages it in completely, metal bars rising high enough to make it feel less like a sport and more like containment. Like whatever goes in there isnโt supposed to get out.
It looks barbaric. Primal. Like it was built for animals.
And the people gathered around itโtoo many, too eagerโarenโt just passing by. Theyโre waiting.
You swallow, leaning in so El can hear you.
โIt looks like a nightmare.โ
El lets out a short breath that might be a laugh, might be something else. She tilts her head, eyes scanning the ring with something closer to curiosity than concern.
โIโve been to worse.โ
For once, you donโt question her.
Elโs always been the one to drift into places like this without hesitation, coming back with stories she tells like theyโre nothingโlike they didnโt happen. You used to think she exaggerated.
Now, standing here, youโre not so sure.
The crowd shifts, tightening around the fence as if pulled by the same invisible string. Someone shoves past you, the smell of sweat and smoke clinging to them. Another voice shouts something you canโt make out, swallowed whole by the bass.
You glance around for Mario, but heโs already a few steps ahead, carving a path like he belongs here.
That doesnโt sit right.
Your fingers curl slightly at your sides, the fabric of your dress suddenly feeling too thin, too out of place in a room like this. The air presses in, thick and suffocating, buzzing with anticipation.
Whatever is about to happen in that ringโ
Youโre not sure you want to see it.
But the crowd isnโt leaving.
And neither are you.
Mario weaves through the crowd like heโs done it a hundred times, barely checking if you and El are still behind him. You push through shoulders and elbows, the press of bodies tightening the closer you get to the fenced ring.
He finally stops, gesturing toward a narrow stretch of space wedged between a rusted railing and a couple already arguing over something you canโt hear.
โHere.โ
Seats is a generous word. Itโs more like a claimed patch of groundโthird row, if you had to guess. Not close enough to touch the fence, but close enough that whatever happens in there wonโt be easy to ignore.
You glance toward the ring again.
Up close, itโs worse.
The ground inside looksโฆ wrong. Like itโs been scraped clean over and over again. The surface is uneven, rough in placesโbut there are faint traces that didnโt quite disappear. Darker patches. Stains that the dim, flickering lights canโt fully hide.
Your stomach tightens.
Mario claps his hands once, like heโs wrapping something up. โStay here. Iโll be right back.โ
Your head snaps toward him. โWhat do you mean stay here? What the hell is this place?โ
He sighs, but itโs not sharp or annoyedโmore like he just doesnโt have the energy for this right now. His eyes flick briefly toward the ring, then back to you.
โIโll get you your drinks,โ he says, already half-turning away. โWhat dโyou want?โ
You hesitate, glancing around againโthe crowd, the fence, the floor inside the ring.
โIโm not sure I want to drink anything from this place.โ
El snorts beside you, loud enough to earn a glance from someone nearby.
Mario rolls his eyes. โGod, youโre such a snob.โ
You scoff immediately. โIโm notโโ
โWeโll have vodka,โ El cuts in, waving a hand like sheโs sealing the deal.
Mario nods once, like that settles everything, and disappears back into the crowd before you can argue further.
For a second, itโs just you and El, the noise, the heatโ
And then the music cuts.
Just like that.
A sharp hum of feedback cuts through the silence, and a manโs voice follows, loud and grating through the speakers.
โAlright, alrightโeyes up!โ
You look toward the ring.
The man holding the microphone steps into the light, and for a moment, youโre not sure if you should take him seriously. He looks like heโs somewhere in his forties, head completely shaved, his clothes hanging off him like they donโt belong to himโtoo big, too worn, sleeves slipping past his wrists. The kind of outfit that looks like it was pulled from one of those street donation bins, the ones meant for charity but always picked through before anything gets there.
He has that same look, too.
Like the kind of guy youโd cross the street to avoid.
But hereโhere, he owns the room.
โWelcome, you animals!โ he shouts, grinning wide enough to show crooked teeth. โYou came hungry tonight, yeah?โ
A laugh almost slips out of you.
Itโs not even that funnyโbut something about the way he says it, like he means it, like heโs not talking to the crowd but about them, hits in a strange way. Humor, sharp and dry, cuts through the unease curling in your stomach.
Because you already have a feeling what that ring is for.
And somehow, that makes it worse.
The reaction is instant.
The crowd eruptsโloud, aggressive, overwhelming. It slams into you from all sides, so intense it makes you flinch. Itโs not just cheering. Itโs something rougher. Hungrier.
You hadnโt realized how many men were packed into this place until now. Your stomach twists.
The man laughs into the mic, feeding off it. โThatโs what I like to hear!โ
He paces along the edge of the fenced ring, dragging the moment out before throwing one arm toward the entrance on the opposite side.
โLetโs not waste time. Get ready for your first fighter of the nightโgive it up forโฆโ he pauses, milking it, โโฆBlue Viper!โ
The name hits, and the crowd roars again.
A man steps into the ring.
Heโs lean, all sharp lines and defined muscle, abs catching the harsh lights as he moves. Royal blue shorts hang low on his hips, matching gloves already strapped tight around his hands. He lifts his arms the second he steps inside, like heโs already won, soaking in the noise like it belongs to him.
It probably does.
โWhat the fuck,โ you mumble under your breath.
Beside you, El swallows, eyes fixed on the ring.
โHow does Mario even know about this place?โ you add, quieter now, like saying it too loud might make it worse.
But thereโs no time to think. The man with the mic raises his hand again, the crowd slowly settlingโnot quiet, never quiet, just waiting.
โAnd his opponentโฆโ he continues, voice dropping just enough to build it back up, โโah, this one doesnโt need much of an introduction.โ
A ripple moves through the crowd. You feel it before you understand it.
โHeโs your favorite,โ the man grins. โYour undefeatedโyour JK!โ
For a split second, your brain doesnโt catch up.
And thenโ
The crowd explodes. Louder than before. Wilder. People shouting, pushing forward, fists hitting the fence.
The fence door screeches as itโs pulled open.
And then he steps in.
JK.
The noise swells instantly, people pressing closer, shouting his name like it means somethingโlike he means something. But he doesnโt even acknowledge it. Not a glance, not a flicker. His focus is locked straight ahead.
On his opponent.
He moves like he already knows how this ends.
Every step is controlled, deliberate. His body shifts under the harsh lights, all muscle and definitionโabs tight, arms flexing with even the smallest movement. Thereโs no wasted motion in him. No nerves. Just quiet, coiled readiness.
His opponent tries to hold his ground, but you catch itโthe slight tension in his stance, the way his shoulders tighten under JKโs stare.
Like he already feels it.
Up close, you catch more of him. A sharp jawline, clean and defined, his expression unreadable. When he turns slightly, the line of his back comes into viewโlean, strong, every muscle moving under his skin like itโs carved there.
You hate to admit it.
Butโyeah. Heโs hot.
And apparently, youโre not the only one who noticed.
You glance at El, andโ
Right. Of course.
Sheโs staring at him like she just found religion, eyes practically sparkling.
โHoly fuck,โ she breathes. โSuddenly I like being here.โ
You snort, shaking your head, even though your own attention has definitely sharpened.
Stillโฆ
Your gaze drifts back to the ring, to the fence, to the crowd pressing in like this is the only thing that matters. Youโre not sure you like this.
Because itโs obvious now. This isnโt just some weird club attraction. This is underground fightingโillegal, brutal, the kind of thing people donโt talk about in daylight.
And somehow, Mario brought you here.
Of all places.
Your brows pull together slightly as you scan the crowd again, unease settling back in.
Mario has always hadโฆ questionable connections. The kind you and El never really asked about, choosing instead to ignore whatever didnโt fit into your version of him.
Mario slips back beside you like he never left, pressing a cold glass into your hand. โWhatโd I miss?โ he asks, far too casually.
You turn to him immediately, irritation rising. โWhat the hell is this, Mario? What are we doing hereโand how did you think this was a good idea?โ
He exhales, already looking like he doesnโt want to deal with this conversation, but you donโt let up.
โSeriously. This placeโthis isnโt normal.โ
El doesnโt even glance at him. Her attention is locked on the ring, eyes sharp with interest, like sheโs already decided this is worth watching. You, on the other hand, canโt stop thinking about the cage, the crowd, the way everyone seemed to be waiting for something violent to happen.
โWhat is this place?โ you ask again, quieter now, but no less firm.
Before he can answer, a sharp bell rings out, cutting through the noise and pulling every ounce of attention back to the ring.
The fight starts instantly. The other guy lunges first, throwing a punch that should landโbut JK shifts just enough for it to miss, his movement so subtle it almost looks lazy. Another swing follows, then another, each one missing by inches as JK slips past them with controlled precision, like heโs already mapped out every move before it happens.
You donโt even realize your grip on the glass has tightened until your fingers start to ache. Thereโs something hypnotic about the way he movesโsmooth, efficient, completely unbothered. He doesnโt rush or panic, doesnโt even try to overpower. He just watches, waits, and lets the other guy wear himself down.
For a moment, it almost feels intentional, like heโs letting him try.
Taunting him.
The thought settles just as the other man commits to another strike, stepping in harder this time, putting everything behind itโand thatโs when JK finally moves forward. His fist connects cleanly, the impact sharp enough to echo even through the roar of the crowd, sending the man stumbling back until his body slams into the fence with a harsh metallic rattle.
The reaction around you is immediate and overwhelming, the crowd exploding with noise that makes your brows pull together as it crashes into you from all sides. But your focus stays on the ring, on the thin line of blood already slipping from the manโs nose, stark against his skin.
Your stomach twists, but not enough to make you look away.
Without thinking, you lift the drink Mario handed you and down it in one go, ignoring the burn, the taste, the suffocating thickness of the air. Your eyes stay locked on the fight, tracking every movement, every shift.
And somewhere in the middle of it, you realize your attention isnโt just caughtโ
itโs hooked.
The fight doesnโt slow downโit shifts entirely in JKโs favor.
Once the other man hits the ground, something in JK changes. Whatever restraint he had disappears as he follows him down without hesitation, delivering punch after punch with the same controlled force. Each hit lands with a dull, sickening impact, the sound carrying even through the roar of the crowd.
The man barely manages to get his arms up, but it doesnโt do much. Blood spreads quicklyโacross his face, down his chest, soaking into the already worn surface beneath him. Those faint stains you noticed earlier are no longer subtle. Theyโre fresh now, darker, undeniable.
JKโs gloves are black, thick. The color hides most of the blood, swallowing it instead of putting it on display, but not entirely. A darker sheen clings to them, catching under the harsh lights every time his fists rise and fall.
Your stomach tightens as the noise around you grows louder, more aggressive, feeding into every hit instead of pulling back from it. It starts to feel like too muchโtoo close, too real, too far past the point where someone should have stepped in already.
โMario,โ you say, leaning toward him, your voice strained as you try to be heard over the chaos. โIs thereโdo they have a restroom or something?โ
He doesnโt answer right away, his attention still fixed on the ring, jaw set like heโs invested in how this ends. For a second, you think he didnโt even hear you, but then he glances over, quick and distracted. โYeah. Down the hall, to the left.โ
You nod, already shifting your weight as you turn to El. โCome with me.โ
She doesnโt move. She doesnโt even look at you. Her eyes stay locked on the ring, her expression sharper than before, completely absorbed in whatโs happening. It catches you off guard, enough that you pause for a second, staring at her like you donโt quite recognize this version of her.
โSeriously?โ you mutter under your breath, but she doesnโt react, and it leaves you standing there alone with the noise pressing back in.
Because the fight wasnโt bad at firstโit was controlled, almost impressive in a way you didnโt expectโbut this is different. This is something else entirely.
Your gaze drifts back to the ring despite yourself, catching the way the man on the ground jerks under another hit, a broken grunt slipping from him as he tries to move, to shield himself, to do anything at all. No one steps in. No one even looks like theyโre thinking about it.
A cold thought settles in as you watch.
You hope this isnโt one of those fightsโthe kind that doesnโt end until someone doesnโt get back upโbecause the way that man looks right now, barely moving, barely holding on, makes it hard not to think heโs already getting close.
Before you can see anything else, youโve had enough.
You donโt care how dodgy this place looks anymoreโonly that you need a second to breathe. The thought crosses your mind, sharp and unwelcome, that walking out alone probably isnโt the smartest idea. A single woman slipping away from a crowd like this doesnโt exactly scream safe. Still, you push it aside, stand up, and follow the direction Mario gave you.
The further you move from the ring, the more the place reveals itselfโand none of it is reassuring. The air is thick with alcohol and weed, clinging to the walls, to your skin, to the back of your throat. The dim lighting doesnโt help, casting everything in a dull, grimy glow that makes even the hallway feel like somewhere you shouldnโt be.
You tug your dress down instinctively, suddenly too aware of how short it is, how out of place you feel. The red lipstick you put on earlier now seems like a mistake. If only you had known where you were coming.
The restroom is worse.
One look inside is enough. The smell hits first, then the stained tiles, the flickering light, the general state of neglect that makes your stomach turn. You donโt even consider using it. Instead, you step up to the sink, eyes lifting to the mirror.
You lookโฆ composed.
More than you expected, at least. Even with the frown thatโs probably been stuck on your face since you walked in, you donโt look shaken. Not on the outside.
You turn on the tap, rinsing your hands out of habit more than anything, the faint taste of vodka still lingering on your tongue. Somewhere in the distance, even from down the hall, you can still hear itโthe cheers, muffled but persistent, like a reminder that whatever is happening in that ring hasnโt slowed down.
You donโt want to be here.
But you also donโt want to be left out.
The thought pushes you into motion again. You dry your hands quickly and head back out, picking up your pace as you move down the hallway, unease settling deeper with every step. The walls are lined with old posters, most of them ripped or peeling, leaving behind only fragmentsโfaces without names, events long gone, nothing fully readable.
It only adds to the feeling that you shouldnโt be here.
Youโre halfway down when it happens.
You nearly stop in your tracks.
Heโs there.
The man from the ringโthe one who was just getting beatenโwalking toward you like nothing happened. Up close, itโs worse. Blood still clings to him, smeared across his face and chest, his steps uneven, his body barely holding itself together.
And behind himโ
The man with the microphone follows, saying something you canโt quite catch.
Your attention snaps forward again.
Because coming straight toward youโ
JK.
Heโs already out of the ring, moving fast, like the fight meant nothing. The gloves are gone, replaced by white wraps around his hands, slightly darkened in places. His hair sticks to his forehead, damp with sweat, his skin glistening under the dim lights as he closes the distance without slowing down.
For a second, you freeze.
Then instinct kicks in and you step aside quickly, pressing yourself against the wall just as he passes. He doesnโt even look at you. Doesnโt hesitate. Doesnโt acknowledge you at all.
Itโs like youโre not even there.
Like if you hadnโt movedโ
He wouldโve walked straight through you.
Your thoughts barely have time to settle before theyโre cut off.
โElโ?โ
She rushes into view, nearly colliding with you, her expression completely different from the one she had just minutes ago. Whatever excitement she had is gone, replaced with something far more overwhelmed, almost frantic.
โI need the bathroom,โ she blurts out, slightly breathless. โLike, right now. I hadโshitโI had like three shots in five minutes.โ
You blink at her, still catching up. โWhereโs Mario?โ
El glances back over her shoulder, like she expects him to magically appear behind her. โHe said he needed to go too. Just disappeared into the crowd.โ
You frown immediately.
Of course he did.
You bite back the first thing that comes to mind, irritation flaring as you glance past her, half-expecting to spot him somewhere down the hall. Nothing. Just the muffled noise from the main room and people moving around like nothing just happened.
Great.
Youโll definitely have to curse him out laterโfor leaving you alone earlier, even if the whole crowd had still been focused on the fight. At least then, everyoneโs attention had been locked on the ring. Now? The fight is over, the tension is shifting, and you donโt even know how to guess who won.
Worse, El couldโve gotten lost in that mess.
Or someone couldโveโ
You cut the thought off as your attention sharpens.
Because you can feel it now.
The looks.
They werenโt as obvious before, not when everyone had been too distracted, but now that the focus has broken, itโs different. There arenโt many women hereโyouโve noticed that muchโand the way some of the men look at you now makes your stomach twist. Lingering stares. Slow, knowing grins that feel far too comfortable.
You scoff under your breath, disgust curling in your chest as you turn back to El.
โThe bathroomโs a nightmare,โ you warn her. โLike, seriously not usable.โ
El groans, clutching her stomach slightly. โI donโt care. My bladder is about to explode.โ
Yeah. No arguing with that.
You nod, stepping aside to let her move past you. โFine. Go. Iโll stay right outside.โ
She doesnโt hesitate, already pushing the door open.
You stay put in the hallway, crossing your arms loosely as you position yourself near the wall, trying to look like you belong there more than you feel like you do. The noise from the main room is still there, dulled now, but enough to remind you youโre not completely alone.
Stillโ
You really hope no one tries to talk to you.
You donโt have to wait long before something shifts again.
Footsteps echo down the hall, heavier this time, more purposeful. A guy comes into viewโblonde, maybe mid-twenties, wearing an oversized shirt that hangs loose over a pair of worn jeans. Thereโs nothing particularly threatening about him at first glance, but the way he carries himself makes people move.
โGet lost,โ he says, voice flat, like heโs said it a hundred times before.
The men lingering too closeโtoo interestedโpause. You hadnโt even fully clocked how near they were getting until now. One of them mutters something under his breath, low and irritated, but before anything can escalate, a woman slips up beside them. She leans in, whispers something quick into one of their ears.
The reaction is immediate.
Their expressions shift, something greedy lighting up in their eyes, and just like that, they back off, leaving without another glance.
You feel your stomach turn.
Disgust settles in deep as you press your lips together, forcing yourself not to react more visibly. Whatever she saidโit worked too easily.
You take a few steps further down the hall, needing the distance, the space. Behind you, the noise from the main room is starting to die down, the chaos thinning out into something more controlled. It sounds like theyโre clearing people out, or at least resetting the space for whatever comes next.
That thought alone makes your skin crawl.
Ahead of you, the blonde guy reaches a doorโone you hadnโt paid much attention to beforeโand pushes it open without hesitation.
And for a split second, you see inside.
Itโs a medium-sized room, dim but cleaner than the rest of this place, like it serves a different purpose. Your brain barely has time to process the layout before somethingโsomeoneโsnags your attention completely.
Mario.
Standing there like he belongs.
Your breath catches, surprise hitting first, sharp and immediate. So much for the bathroom. He didnโt even come this wayโthe toilets are further down, you know that now.
But the shock doesnโt stop there.
Because sitting in one of the chairsโ
JK.
Up close, under better light, he looks just as composed as he did in the ring, even now. Someoneโa young guy, too young if youโre being honestโis crouched in front of him, carefully unwrapping the white tape from his hands. The fabric is stained in places, and as it comes loose, you catch glimpses of reddened skin underneath.
The kid works quickly, like he knows what heโs doing, like this is routine.
Of course it is.
Nothing about this place is legal. Nothing about it is normal.
Your eyes flick back to Mario, disbelief settling in heavier now. He lied. Not even wellโjust enough to get away from you and El without questions.
Before you can take in anything else, the door swings shut.
Youโre left staring at it, mouth slightly open, like your brain hasnโt caught up to what you just saw.
Mario. In there. With him.
โEl?โ
She comes back a second later, pushing the bathroom door open with a relieved sigh. โReady?โ
You turn to her, still half-stunned. โIโthereโs a room down here. Marioโs in it. Andโฆ the guy who was in the ring is in there too.โ
El freezes. โWhat?โ
โAnd some kidโlike, actually a kidโis cleaning him up. I donโt evenโโ You shake your head, trying to piece it together. โThis is weird.โ
El blinks a few times, processing, then shrugs slightly. โMaybe Mario just knows people here?โ
You stare at her. โThat doesnโt make it less weird.โ
She hesitates, glancing between you and the closed door. โSoโฆ what are we doing? Waiting?โ
You frown, something in you snapping into place. Youโre done waiting. Done being brushed off, lied to, dragged somewhere without knowing why.
Without another word, you step forward and push the door open.
The reaction is immediate.
Conversation cuts off mid-sentence. Every head in the room turns toward you, like you just walked into something you werenโt supposed to see.
Mario looks the worst out of all of themโcaught, completely unprepared. His mouth opens like heโs about to say something, but nothing comes out.
Your gaze shifts past him.
JK is still sitting, his hands half-unwrapped, the young guy working on them pausing mid-motion. For a second, he doesnโt even acknowledge you. His eyes stay lowered, focused on his handsโ
Then he looks up.
Your eyes meet, just briefly. Long enough for something to registerโsharp, assessing. His gaze drags over you, slow and deliberate, before his expression tightens slightly, like heโs already decided you donโt belong here.
โAnd what are you doing here?โ the blonde man asks, voice flat, almost tired, like this is an inconvenience.
El hovers just behind your shoulder, peeking in, her eyes going wide the second they land on JK. โFuck,โ she whispers, not nearly as quiet as she probably thinks.
You donโt react to her.
Your attention is locked on Mario now. โI should be asking you that.โ
He winces slightly, like he expected that, but still doesnโt have a good answer.
The men in the room donโt miss the tension, the way your eyes narrow, the way Mario shifts under it. Something clicks between them, unspoken.
The blonde man exhales sharply, already over it. โListen, you have no place being here.โ His gaze flicks to Mario. โTake your bitches out of here.โ
โExcuse me?โ you scoff immediately, offense flaring hot and fast. The word hits wrongโtoo casual, too familiar, like itโs something he says often.
He doesnโt even react. If anything, he looks bored, like heโs seen this exact reaction a hundred times before.
Maybe he has.
โLook, justโgive us a minute,โ Mario cuts in quickly, stepping forward like heโs trying to manage damage control. โIโll come out and explain, okay?โ
โAnd wait out there? With all the junkies?โ you shoot back, anger creeping in sharper now. โDo you even hear yourself right now?โ
Your patience is gone.
Before Mario can respond, movement pulls your attention again.
JK stands.
The shift in the room is subtle, but itโs there. He rolls his shoulders once, flexing his hands slightly as the young guy quickly gathers the bloodied wraps and cotton, tossing them aside.
โTake this outside,โ JK says, voice low and steady, carrying easily through the room.
Itโs not loud, but it doesnโt need to be. It lands heavy anyway.
He doesnโt look at anyone again.
Just walks past, disappearing through another door without a second thought.
Silence lingers for a second after heโs gone.
Then the blonde man steps forward slightly, already done with this entire situation. โIโll be in touch,โ he says curtly, though itโs clearly meant for Mario. His gaze flicks back to you and El, sharp, unimpressed. โOut.โ
He gestures toward the door, not even pretending to be polite about it.
Itโs not an offer.
Itโs an order.
You let out a sharp scoff, already drawing breath to snap back at the blonde manโbecause who the hell does he think he isโbut El is faster. Her hand wraps around your wrist, fingers tightening in warning, and at the same time Mario steps in, grabbing your shoulders and steering you back.
โHeyโโ you start, but heโs already pushing you out.
The door shuts behind you with a dull thud.
You turn on him immediately.
โWhat the actual fuck, Mario?โ
He exhales, dragging a hand over his face. โNot here.โ
โOh, notโโ you scoff, ready to go off, but heโs already moving, heading down the hall like he expects you to follow.
You do. Of course you do.
El stays close, unusually quiet now, her earlier excitement completely gone. The hallway feels different on the way backโemptier, colder somehow. By the time you reach the main area, itโs almost unrecognizable. The crowd is gone, replaced by only a few people cleaning up like nothing ever happened. Trash is being swept, bottles collected, and in one corner, you catch a glimpse of a stack of cash being counted and shoved into a duffle bag.
Thatโs enough.
You donโt say anything as you follow Mario out, but the second the cold air hits your skin, itโs like everything snaps back into focus. You step forward quickly, grabbing his forearm and forcing him to stop.
โSpeak,โ you demand.
He looks at youโnot angry, not defensive. Justโฆ tired. Defeated, almost.
โNot here, please,โ he says quietly. โLetโs just go back to my place.โ
Your eyes narrow immediately. The way he glances around, quick and subtle, doesnโt help.
Alarms go off in your head.
You donโt agree, not reallyโbut you donโt argue either. Not yet.
The car ride is silent. Tense. The kind of silence that presses in on you, heavy with everything that hasnโt been said. El sits beside you, staring out the window, unusually still, like sheโs replaying everything in her head. You donโt interrupt. Youโre doing the same.
By the time you reach Marioโs building, the quiet hasnโt lifted.
It follows you all the way into his apartment.
The door closes behind you, and just like that, the outside world is goneโbut the tension stays, thick in the air, waiting.
Mario moves first, like he needs something to do with his hands. โTea? Orโsomething?โ he offers, already heading toward the kitchen.
Anything to stall.
You donโt answer right away. You just watch him, arms crossed, expression unmoving. Eventually, you nod once, more out of impatience than acceptance, and take a seat on the couch beside El. She sinks into it quietly, still not saying much, her usual energy replaced with something more withdrawn.
Mario brings the cups over a few minutes later, setting them down carefully in front of you both. You donโt thank him. You donโt even look at the tea.
You just look at him.
He takes the chair opposite you, exhaling slowly before running a hand through his hair. โI didnโt think it would escalate like that.โ
You cut him off immediately. โWhat did you think, Mario? That weโd just be okay watching that?โ Your voice sharpens. โDid you genuinely think weโd enjoy an illegal fight?โ
He blinks, caught off guard for a second. โHow do you even know itโs illegal?โ
You stare at him, almost incredulous. โAre you serious? Nothing about that place screams legal.โ
He doesnโt argue.
So you keep going.
โI thought we were going to a club,โ you say, your frustration spilling over now. โAnd then you change plans last minute, and suddenly weโre standing next to a cage, watching a guy get nearly beaten to death?โ
The words hang heavy between you.
Mario exhales again, slower this time, and thereโs something in his expression that finally cracksโguilt, maybe. Regret.
โIโm sorry,โ he says, quieter now. โI really am. I justโฆ I had to deal with something, and one of my friends was there. I thought itโd just be a fight. I thought you two mightโโ he hesitates, then shrugs weakly, โโI donโt know. Enjoy it. You like boxing, right?โ
That lands badly.
Because whatever that wasโwasnโt just boxing.
You lean back slightly, exhaling through your nose, but the tension doesnโt leave your body. If anything, it settles deeper.
โWhy do you even hang around people like that?โ you ask, your tone quieter now but no less pointed.
Mario winces a little at that, like he expected it. โIโm sorry,โ he says again, rubbing the back of his neck. โI really am. I wonโt bring you there again. Hell, I probably wonโt even go back myself. It was a stupid idea.โ
You study him for a second, trying to decide if you believe that.
Then you sigh, some of the edge in you softening, just a little. โI didnโt feel safe there,โ you admit. โAnd itโs a good thing nothing happened to us.โ
Your fingers curl slightly around the warm cup, grounding yourself before you add, โWhat even is that place?โ
Mario hesitates, like heโs choosing how honest to be. โItโsโฆ yeah, itโs illegal,โ he finally says. โBut itโs one of the fastest ways to make money. People go there to bet. Not just thatโthey go because they like the fights. They want to see something real.โ
You let out a quiet scoff. โWe clearly have very different ideas of what a good fight is.โ
He nods, accepting that. โListenโitโs usually not like that. It gets stopped before it goes too far. Yeah, some guys donโt look great after, but tonightโฆ tonight was intense. I didnโt know JK was gonna be the one fighting. Usually itโs moreโฆ controlled.โ
You blink at him, stunned. โOh my god. How many times have you been there?โ
โNot that many,โ he says quickly, holding up a hand. โSeriously. But I know itโs not usually like this. There had to be a change of plans when JK showed up. Thatโs why it was so packed. I shouldโve known. I shouldโve just left with you the second I realized.โ
You shake your head slightly, still trying to process. โWho even is he?โ
Mario shrugs. โJust a guy that got popular there. He fights wellโreally wellโand people like watching him. Thatโs why it gets so crowded when heโs around.โ
Your stomach turns at that. โPeople enjoy watching him beat someone nearly to death?โ
โThereโs a lot of money involved,โ Mario replies, his tone quieter now. โAnd for some of those guysโฆ itโs easier to earn money that way. One good fight can get you more than a regular job.โ
You frown, not convinced. โI donโt get it. I mean, boxing isnโt a bad thingโbut when itโs legal. What we saw? Thereโs a reason thatโs not allowed.โ
Mario exhales, leaning back in his chair. โThe worldโs a lot rougher than you think. That placeโitโs just one of those corners where people make money however they can.โ
You donโt respond to that. Not really.
Instead, you shift your focus, needing something else. โDid you at least deal with your friend? The one you said you had to meet?โ
โYeah,โ he nods quickly. โYeah, thatโs done.โ He pauses, then adds again, โAnd Iโm sorry. Really. I wonโt drag you into something like that again.โ
You study him for a moment, then let out a small breath, deciding not to push it further. โLetโs justโฆ hope weโll laugh about this in twenty years.โ
El makes a small sound beside youโhalf a scoff, half a sip of her teaโand you glance at her.
โWhy are you so quiet?โ you ask.
She shrugs, staring into her cup for a second before looking up. โI meanโฆ yeah, it was weird. And I definitely wouldnโt go there alone.โ She pauses, then adds, almost reluctantly, โBut it was kind of interesting to see.โ
You drop your head back slightly. โOh my god.โ
El rolls her eyes, but thereโs a faint smile there now. โIโm not saying I want to go back. I donโt. Iโd rather we stay far away from that place.โ She nudges your arm lightly. โNext time, though? Weโre going to an actual club. A good one. We finally convince you to go out, and this is where we end up?โ
You huff out a laugh despite yourself, some of the tension finally easing. โFine. You pick the next place, and Iโll consider going.โ
โThatโs a yes,โ she says immediately.
โItโs a maybe,โ you correct, but youโre smiling now.
The night winds down after that, the heaviness of it lingering but not as sharp. You stay over at Marioโs place like usualโnothing new there. You and El take the bed, while he crashes on the couch without complaint.
It should feel normal.
Familiar.
But as you lie there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, sleep doesnโt come easily.
Because every time you close your eyes, you see it again.
The ring. The blood. The crowd.
And him.
Those dark, steady eyes that barely looked at youโyet somehow linger anyway, slipping into your dreams as the night stretches on, replaying everything like a broken movie you canโt quite turn off.
Life moves on.
Or at least, it pretends to.
In the days after that night, everything slowly slips back into place. You fall into your usual routineโmeeting El for junk food runs, sitting in dimly lit bars, catching up on the kind of small, meaningless things that make life feel normal again. Work, gossip, random complaints. The kind of conversations that donโt carry weight.
And for a while, neither does that night.
It starts to feel distant. Unreal, even. Like something you watched in a movie rather than something you actually stood in the middle of. You avoid that part of town completely, not even entertaining the idea of going near it. The building, the people, the noiseโit all becomes something you push to the back of your mind.
Still, sometimes it creeps in.
A thought here and there. A question you donโt really want answered. How many people got hurt that night? How often does that happen?
You learn not to follow those thoughts too far.
The first week is the worst. Your dreams are restless, filled with flashes of the ring, the sound of fists hitting skin, the roar of the crowd. Itโs like your brain is trying to process something it only ever expected to see on a screen, not up close, not real.
But after a couple of weeks, even that fades.
It becomes just a faint memory.
Something that happened.
Something you donโt talk about.
Life moves on. Or at least, it tries to.
In the days after that night, everything slowly slips back into place. You fall into your usual routineโmeeting El for junk food runs, sitting in dimly lit bars, catching up on the kind of small, meaningless things that make life feel normal again. Work, gossip, random complaints. The kind of conversations that donโt carry weight.
And for a while, neither does that night.
It starts to feel distant. Unreal, even. Like something you watched in a movie rather than something you actually stood in the middle of. You avoid that part of town completely, not even entertaining the idea of going near it. The building, the people, the noiseโit all becomes something you push to the back of your mind.
Still, sometimes it creeps in. A thought here and there. A question you donโt really want answered. How many people got hurt that night? How often does that happen?
You learn not to follow those thoughts too far.
The first week is the worst. Your dreams are restless, filled with flashes of the ring, the sound of fists hitting skin, the roar of the crowd. Itโs like your brain is trying to process something it only ever expected to see on a screen, not up close, not real.
But after a couple of weeks, even that fades.
It becomes just a faint memory. Something that happened. Something you donโt talk about.
Lately, youโve been seeing El more often. Marioโs been busy, which isnโt unusual. Heโs always had something going on, mostly revolving around cars. Buying them, fixing them, flipping them. Old ones, newer onesโit doesnโt really matter. He calls it an investment, says the money always comes back if you know what youโre doing.
And apparently, he does.
Between the cars and whatever connections heโs built over time, heโs become the guy people call when something breaks. Youโve done it yourself. The last time your car had an issue, he fixed it in a day and saved you from dealing with overpriced repair shops and all their nonsense. Heโs reliable like that.
Just not always honest.
Tonight, itโs just you and El at one of your usual bars, tucked into a booth thatโs a little too worn but familiar enough to feel comfortable. You didnโt feel like drinking, so youโve been sticking to soda while sheโs had a couple of shots.
It reminds you of a phase youโve already gone throughโback when you were younger, figuring out your limits. These days, you donโt really care for it.
El, though, seems off.
At first, you assume itโs her ex. She spent way too long getting over him, and for a moment you wonder if she slipped back into that. But then she checks her phone again. And again. And again.
You watch her for a while before finally speaking up. โOkay, somethingโs up.โ
She barely looks at you. โNothingโs up.โ
โYouโve checked your phone like ten times in five minutes.โ
โIโm just waiting for a message.โ
โFrom who?โ
She shrugs too quickly. โNo one important.โ
You donโt buy it, but you donโt push right away. The feeling lingers, though, settling in your chest.
Somethingโs not right.
By the time the waitress tells you theyโre closing, itโs already close to ten. You both gather your things and step outside, the cooler air a relief after the stuffy bar. You start telling her something about workโsome pointless dramaโbut she barely reacts, her attention drifting back to her phone.
Then she checks it again.
You stop mid-sentence and look at her. โOkay, you have one minute. Tell me whatโs going on, or Iโm dropping you off and going home.โ
She laughs nervously, scratching her cheek. โDonโt be mad.โ
You roll your eyes. โJust say it.โ
โI know where Mario is.โ
You blink. โOkay? Heโs probably working.โ
She exhales, muttering, โHeโs gonna kill me for this.โ
โEl.โ
โOkayโhe went back there.โ
You frown. โBack where?โ
Her voice lowers. โThe ring.โ
You stare at her, still trying to process it, the memory of that place snapping back into focus like it never really left.
โWhat do you mean, the ring?โ
โHeโs there. Right now.โ
You let out a slow breath, disbelief settling in. Of course he is. After everything he said. After promising he wouldnโt go back.
โUnbelievable.โ
El shifts slightly, her grip tightening around her phone. โThe thing isโฆ he was supposed to text me. And he hasnโt. Itโs been, like, four hours.โ She glances at the screen again, like it might suddenly light up. โHe promised he would.โ
You frown. โWaitโdid you know he was going there?โ
She hesitates, then nods, a little ashamed. โYeah. He told me.โ She quickly adds, โAnd he made me promise not to tell you.โ
You scoff. โOf course he did. He didnโt want to hear my โsmart remarksโ again. He probably thinks Iโm his mom at this point, pestering him.โ
โThatโs not it,โ El says, shaking her head. โHe knows you worry about him. We both do. And honestly? You have a reason to.โ She exhales, then continues, โI only agreed because he said heโd text me the whole time. Just so Iโd know heโs okay.โ
You cross your arms. โAnd?โ
โThe last message I got was around seven,โ she says, her voice tightening. โHe said he was going in.โ
You glance at the time. Itโs way past that now.
โWhat was he even doing there?โ you ask.
El shrugs helplessly. โI donโt know. He just said he had some business to take care of. That itโd be quick.โ She lets out a quiet, uneasy breath. โClearly itโs not.โ
Silence settles between you for a moment, heavier this time.
โI donโt want to panic,โ she adds, her voice quieter now, โbut after what we saw thereโฆ the kind of people that were aroundโฆโ She swallows. โIโm scared something happened to him.โ
That lands.
Because yeahโMarioโs not small. Heโs got height, some lean muscle, enough to handle himself in most situations.
But that place?
Thatโs not most situations.
Heโs still your friend.
And something about all of this doesnโt sit right.
El looks at you, worry written all over her face. โWhat are we gonna do?โ
You sigh, already knowing the answer.
โWhat else?โ you mutter. โWe have to go back and find him.โ
Her expression tightens. โWhat if heโs not there?โ
โThen we hope he made it there and someone saw him,โ you reply, already turning and heading toward your car. โAnd we figure it out from there.โ
You donโt give yourself time to second-guess it.
El hurries after you, sliding into the passenger seat as you start the engine. For a brief second, you just sit there, hands gripping the wheel a little tighter than usual.
You had hoped youโd never go back.
But just like thatโthat hope is gone.
You park a little further down the street, not wanting to pull up right in front like last time. The engine dies, and for a moment neither of you moves. The place hasnโt changed at all. The street still feels wrongโtoo quiet, too empty, like itโs been deliberately erased from everything around it. You glance at El, and she looks just as uneasy as you feel.
โLetโs go,โ you mutter, pushing the door open.
You both walk toward the entrance, slower this time, more cautious. When you reach the door, El tries to push it open, but it doesnโt budge. Locked. She turns to you, brows knitting together. โWhat now?โ
Before you can answer, the door creaks open from the inside. The same bouncer steps into view, and for a second you donโt recognize him. Then it clicksโthe same sharp, heavy-lidded eyes, the same detached, almost stoned expression. It feels like no time has passed. His gaze drags over both of you, slow and deliberate, lingering a little too long on your bare legs, and you instantly regret dressing up for the bar tonight.
โYouโre late,โ he says, voice rough. โLet people in an hour ago.โ
You donโt bother arguing. You reach into your purse, pull out a bill, and press it against his chest. He catches it easily, glancing down before tucking it away. A smirk pulls at his mouth. โWouldโve preferred you in my arms,โ he mutters. You grimace, not even hiding your disgust this time, while Elโs grip tightens around your hand as the door opens wider and you both slip inside.
The moment you step down the stairs, the noise hitsโloud, heavy, suffocating. The smell follows right after. Sweat, weed, alcohol. Itโs exactly how you remember it, maybe worse. The main area is completely packed, even more than last time, bodies pressed together so tightly it feels impossible to move. You barely even glance toward the ring. Thatโs not why youโre here.
โRoom,โ you remind El, leaning closer so she can hear you.
She nods quickly, already following your lead as you both start pushing through the crowd, weaving between people with purpose. You keep your focus forward, mentally retracing the path from last time. The stairs. The hallway. That door. Thatโs where you last saw Mario, and right now, thatโs the only place that matters.
โElโthis way,โ you say, tugging her slightly as you manage to break away from the tightest part of the crowd and angle toward the stairs. There are still people gathered there, but itโs easier to move, easier to breathe. โWe check the room first. If heโs not there, weโll figure something else out.โ
The microphone cuts in, sharp and loud, but you donโt stop. The announcerโs voice blends into the background as you keep moving, slipping past another group, already stepping toward the hallway. Youโre close now, close enough that you can almost see the door in your mind.
โโฆand tonight,โ the voice drawls.
You ignore it.
โFirst time in the ringโโ
Still moving.
โโand bold enough to throw down a challengeโโ
Youโre already turning, already heading for the hallway.
โโchallenging JK himselfโโ
The crowd reacts loudly, but it barely registers. Youโre focused on getting there, on finding him before anything else can go wrong.
โAnd letโs hear it forโโ
You donโt slow down.
โMaaaario.โ
El stops so abruptly it almost throws you into her back, your steps catching at the last second as the name echoes through the space. For a moment it doesnโt registerโnot fully. It stretches out in the air, swallowed and amplified by the crowdโs reaction, like your brain refuses to connect it to anything real.
Then it hits.
Your body goes still as your mind catches up, the realization crashing in all at once. Around you, the crowd erupts, louder than before, excitement surging like this is exactly what they came for. El doesnโt move in front of you, her posture rigid, and your hand tightens slightly where youโre still holding onto her.
Neither of you says anything.
Because you both heard it.
And suddenly, finding Mario doesnโt feel like a question anymore.
It feels like a problem.
The countdown starts somewhere above the noise, the announcer stretching each number out like heโs feeding the crowd. It barely registers at first, your mind still stuck on the name you just heard, but then the final number hits and everything erupts at once. Before you can even think, the fight begins.
You and El move at the same time without saying a word. Thereโs no hesitation now, just urgency as you push into the crowd, forcing your way through bodies that donโt want to move. Shoulders slam into you, someone curses, another shoves you aside, but no one really stops you. Theyโre too focused on the ring, too caught up in the fight to care about anything else. The noise is overwhelmingโyells, cheers, fists hitting metalโand it makes your chest tighten because you canโt see anything. Not knowing whatโs happening somehow feels worse than seeing it.
El takes the lead, using her strength to pry a path open, her grip tight around your wrist as she drags you forward. You stumble after her, trying to keep up as she forces space where there isnโt any. It feels endless, like youโre stuck in a wall of bodies that wonโt break, but eventually it does. You reach the ring, not close enough to touch it comfortably, but close enough to see.
And what you see makes your breath catch.
Mario is on the ground, one hand pressed to his face as blood spills from his nose. He looks disoriented, struggling to steady himself, and for a second it doesnโt even register as a fight. It looks like damage, like something thatโs already gone too far. Your fingers slip through the fence without you thinking, gripping the cold metal as your eyes dart to his opponent.
JK is circling him.
Not rushing, not pressingโjust waiting. Thereโs something unsettling about the way he moves, controlled and calm, like he already knows exactly how this ends. He lets Mario struggle, lets him try to get up, almost like heโs giving him space on purpose. Like heโs drawing it out.
Your stomach twists as you try to make sense of it. Canโt he just stop it? Can Mario tap out? Are there even rules here?
You donโt know.
โOh my god,โ El whispers beside you, her voice tight with fear.
โCome on,โ you say under your breath, gripping the fence harder. โGet up. Get up.โ
Thereโs no way he can hear you through the chaos, and yet somehow he moves. Mario pushes himself up, unsteady, barely holding his balance as he spits blood onto the ground. The sight makes your stomach churn, but he lifts his hands again, trying to reset, trying to fight.
He throws the first punch, driven more by instinct than skill. Itโs messy, desperate, lacking control, but itโs something. JK avoids it easily, shifting just enough for it to miss. Another swing follows, then another, each one missing by inches as JK moves around him like itโs nothing. Thereโs no panic in him, no rush. Just patience.
Then he strikes.
Itโs quick. Sharp. Clean.
The first hit snaps Marioโs head to the side, the second lands before he can recover, and the third sends him stumbling backward. JK doesnโt overextend, doesnโt waste movementโevery punch is calculated, deliberate, landing exactly where it needs to. Mario tries to hold his ground, but itโs obvious now. Heโs outmatched.
One more hit lands, harder than the rest, and it drops him.
You gasp, the sound tearing out of you before you can stop it as Mario hits the ground again. His face is already swelling, one eye starting to close, blood spreading across his skin in a way that makes your chest tighten painfully.
โMario!โ you shout, panic rising fast. โGet up!โ
El is yelling too now, her voice breaking as she calls his name, the two of you pressed against the fence, desperate, urging him to move, to stay conscious, to do anything. The fear settles deep in your chest because what if he doesnโt get up this time? What if this doesnโt stop?
Mario shifts slightly, barely lifting his head, and then his gaze turns. Not toward JK, not toward the crowdโbut toward you.
People cheer.
The sight of his face makes something in you twist. Swollen, bloodied, barely recognizable, and still he finds you in the chaos. Your breath hitches as you realize he sees you here.
JK notices.
Itโs subtle at first, just a shift in his focus, the way his eyes narrow as he follows Marioโs line of sight. And then he looks at you. Really looks, his gaze locking onto yours in a way that feels too direct, too aware.
For a second, everything feels still.
Then he moves.
He crouches beside Mario, and your stomach drops as his hand shoots out, fingers tangling into Marioโs hair. The grip is tight, controlling, forcing his head up despite the lack of resistance. Mario barely reacts, his body too weak to fight back, and panic spikes in your chest.
JK doesnโt look away from you. His dark hair sticks to his forehead, damp with sweat, his skin barely marked compared to Marioโs. Like this fight hasnโt cost him anything.
And then he smirks.
Your chest tightens as his grip tightens with it, lifting Marioโs head just enoughโ
Before slamming it back down against the ground.
The sound is sickening.
It cuts through everything.
Mario goes limp.
And for a second, you donโt breathe, donโt move, donโt think. You just stare, because something in you knows that whatever line there was before, itโs gone now.
The sound crashes back all at once, loud and overwhelming, like nothing just happened. Like what you just saw is entertainment, nothing more. JK steps back, the win clearly his, and the fence is already being opened for him as if it was expected. Of course it was. He walks out without a glance back, already moving on while the crowd feeds off the aftermath.
You donโt.
You canโt.
Two men enter the ring almost immediately, grabbing Mario under his arms and hauling him up. His body hangs between them, limp, unresponsive, his head lolling slightly with the movement. The sight knocks the air out of your lungs.
You force yourself to move.
Your throat tightens as you swallow hard, shaking yourself out of the daze as you grab Elโs arm. โCome on,โ you manage, your voice barely steady, your eyes locked on Mario as they carry him away.
You follow them.
They move fast, cutting through a path that clears easier for them than it ever did for you. When you and El catch up, one of the men glances back, clearly annoyed, his eyes narrowing slightly as he takes you in. Elโs panicked whispers donโt help.
โOh my godโฆ Mario, weโre here. Youโre gonna be okayโโ
โHey,โ one of the men snaps. โYou canโtโโ
โHeโs our friend,โ you cut in quickly, your voice sharper than you expect. โWeโre staying. Where are you taking him?โ
They donโt look like they want to deal with you. Not now. Not with this. The two of them exchange a look, something silent passing between them before one sighs, clearly deciding itโs not worth the argument.
โHeโs getting treated,โ he says shortly, already turning away.
You donโt ask by whom. You just follow.
The hallway feels tighter this time, the noise from the main area fading behind you as they lead you into one of the rooms. Itโs smaller than you expected, cramped and worn, with dented lockers lining one wall and a narrow bed in the center that looks like it once belonged in a hospital.
They set Mario down without much care. His body barely reacts, his head rolling slightly to the side, and something in your chest twists painfully at how still he is.
You and El move immediately, stopping just short of touching him, both of you hovering, afraid of making it worse.
The door opens again.
A young man steps in, probably in his early twenties, maybe a bit older, his build lean but steady. Heโs dressed simplyโdark shirt, sleeves pushed up to his elbowsโand thereโs a certain efficiency in the way he moves, like heโs done this too many times to think about it. His hair is slightly messy, falling into his eyes as he pulls on a pair of gloves, his expression focused rather than concerned.
โWhat do we have this time?โ he asks, glancing over Mario with quick, practiced eyes.
โProbably a broken nose. Maybe more,โ one of the men replies.
The young man exhales quietly, stepping closer to the bed as he tilts Marioโs head slightly, inspecting the damage without hesitation. โYeah,โ he mutters, almost to himself. โAnother one who thought he could last longer than he actually could.โ
Mario gets treated like you and El arenโt even there.
The young man moves around him with quiet efficiency, cleaning the blood, checking his nose, pressing gauze where itโs needed. The two men who carried him in linger for a moment before stepping aside, talking in low voices, completely unfazed. Itโs like this is routine. Like people getting carried in half-conscious isnโt anything out of the ordinary.
You canโt stand still.
You start pacing the small room, your steps short and sharp, your arms crossed tight over your chest as your thoughts spiral. No matter how hard you try to focus on Mario, your mind keeps dragging you back to the ringโto that moment. The way JK looked at you. The way he made sure you saw it. That last hit.
The way Mario justโฆ stopped.
Your jaw tightens.
Even when Mario lets out a low groan, shifting slightly on the bed, it doesnโt pull you out of it. El is at his side immediately, her voice soft but urgent as she leans closer. โMario? Heyโcan you hear me?โ He mumbles something incoherent, his words slurred, barely forming, and El glances up, worry etched all over her face. โDoesnโt he need a hospital?โ
The young man doesnโt even look up from what heโs doing. โIf he goes to a hospital, questions get asked,โ he says flatly. โPolice get involved.โ
โMaybe they should,โ you cut in sharply, stopping your pacing to look at him. โMaybe that would finally shut this place down.โ
That gets his attention.
He shoots you a look, sharp and unimpressed. โHate to break it to you,โ he says, tone edged with something colder now, โbut your friend would be the one in trouble. This is illegal. He signed up for it.โ
You donโt care.
You donโt care what he says, what excuses they have, what twisted logic they follow in this place.
Your anger is already too far gone.
โWhere is he?โ you ask suddenly.
The room stills for a second.
โWho?โ one of the men asks.
You look at him like it should be obvious. โJK.โ
They exchange a glance, something unreadable passing between them. โWhy?โ the other one mutters.
You donโt answer that.
You just look at El. โStay here. Keep an eye on him.โ
She blinks at you, clearly trying to figure out what youโre about to do. โWaitโโ
But youโre already moving.
You leave before she can stop you, before anyone can question you further, your steps quick and determined as you head back down the hall. You donโt even know if heโs still there, if he went back to that room or somewhere else entirely, but you donโt stop to think about it.
Youโre too angry to think.
You reach the door and push it open hard.
Empty.
The room looks exactly the same as beforeโthe couch, the chair, the faint trace of something cleaner in the air compared to the rest of the placeโbut heโs not there. You step further in, scanning it anyway, like he might suddenly appear.
โWhere the hellโโ
The door opens behind you.
You turn immediately.
JK stands there.
He doesnโt look surprised to see someone in the room. If anything, he looks mildly annoyed, like youโre an inconvenience he didnโt feel like dealing with tonight. His hair is wet, strands sticking to his forehead, steam still curling faintly from the doorway behind himโbathroom, you realize. Heโs changed, now wearing a pair of dark cotton shorts, a towel in his hands that he uses once before tossing it aside onto the couch like it doesnโt matter.
Like nothing matters.
He doesnโt even acknowledge you.
Thatโs what sets you off.
Before you can think, youโre already moving toward him, anger taking over completely as you shove both hands against his chest. The contact is solidโhis skin still warm from the shower, heat lingering under your palms, his muscles hard and unyielding beneath your push. Itโs like trying to move a wall.
โWhat the hell is wrong with you?โ you snap, your voice sharp with fury. โYou couldโve killed him!โ
He barely moves.
Not even a step back.
Just stands there, looking down at you as if youโre something mildly irritating, one brow lifting slightly as your hair falls out of place from the force of your movement.
โYou done?โ he asks.
The words hit harder than they should.
You freeze for half a second, caught off guardโnot just by how close he is, not just by hearing his voice directed at you for the first time, but by how little he seems to care.
โNot entirely,โ you snap back, your anger flaring again as you move to shove him once more.
This time, he catches your wrist.
Effortlessly.
His grip is firm, stopping you mid-motion like itโs nothing, like you werenโt even a challenge to begin with.
โYouโre a piece of shit,โ you tell him, your voice tight.
A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, slow and unimpressed. โAnd yet,โ he replies coolly, tilting his head slightly as his grip doesnโt loosen, โyour friend stepped into the ring with me anyway.โ
โLet me go,โ you snap, yanking against him.
For a second, he just watches you, completely unimpressed, like this is nothing new to him.
Then he lets go.
Abruptly.
You stumble back a step as he pushes you away, not rough enough to hurt, but enough to put distance between you, like heโs brushing something off.
โCareful,โ he says, voice low, almost amused, โyouโre gonna hurt yourself before you even get close to hurting me.โ
The arrogance in his tone only makes your blood boil more.
โYouโre an arrogant prick,โ you snap without hesitation, your voice sharp enough to cut through whatever calm heโs pretending to have. โDo you feel good about it? Almost killing people for a bunch of money?โ
Something shifts.
Itโs subtle, but itโs there. The smirk fades just enough, his eyes darkening as he looks at you, really looks this time.
โOut,โ he says.
You donโt move.
You donโt even consider it.
โYouโre in no position to tell me what to do,โ you fire back immediately. โIโm not going anywhere.โ
His jaw tightens slightly, but he doesnโt argue. Doesnโt explain. Doesnโt justify himself.
That only makes it worse.
You step closer again, closing the distance, your finger lifting as you point it toward his chest. โYou donโt get to act like this is normal. Like youโre not the problem here.โ
His hand moves before you can react.
Fast.
Your wrist is caught again, but this time thereโs no patience behind it. No casual ease. Just control.
โYouโre pushing it,โ he says, voice low, edged with warning.
โGood,โ you snap, trying to yank your hand free. โMaybe someone shouldโโ
He doesnโt let you finish.
In one swift movement, he turns you, your back hitting the wall with a dull thud before you can process what just happened. Your breath catches as he pins your arms behind you, one hand locking both of your wrists in place, the other braced near your shoulder, keeping you exactly where he wants you.
The shift is instant.
Youโre not in control anymore.
Your heart jumps, adrenaline spiking as you struggle against his hold, but itโs useless. Heโs stronger, faster, and far too used to this kind of contact.
He leans in slightly, just enough for you to feel the heat still radiating off his skin.
โYou talk a lot,โ he mutters, his grip tightening just enough to keep you from trying anything else, โfor someone who has no idea what she just walked into.โ
His hand still holds your wrists behind your back, and now his other arm shifts slightly, boxing you in. The heat from his body hasnโt faded yet, his skin still warm under the dim light, his breath just brushing near your ear without quite touching.
Your pulse spikes despite yourself.
โYeah?โ you manage, your voice tighter than youโd like. โWhat did I walk into?โ
Thereโs a beat.
Short.
Deliberate.
Thenโ
โA place you donโt belong,โ he says quietly, voice low and steady, right by your ear.
No hesitation. No explanation.
Just fact.
His grip tightens slightly, not enough to hurtโjust enough to remind you heโs still in control.
โAnd a fight you canโt win.โ
He lets go of you.
The shift is sudden enough that you almost stumble forward before catching yourself. You turn on him immediately, your chest rising and falling too fast, your pulse still racing from the proximity, from the grip, from everything. For a second, you just stare at him, trying to steady yourself, trying to hold onto the anger that brought you here in the first place.
โLeave,โ he says.
Just like that. Flat. Dismissive.
You blink at him, still catching your breath. You donโt even know what you expected coming hereโan apology, a reaction, somethingโbut all you got was this. Him. Unbothered. Untouched. Like what happened in that ring meant nothing.
You open your mouth, but before you can say anythingโ
The door swings open.
A blonde woman steps in, her energy shifting the moment she notices you. The grin she walked in with disappears almost instantly, her eyes flicking between you and him, lingering a second too long on the fact that heโs still shirtless.
The air changes.
โWhoโs this?โ she asks, her tone edged, curious but already leaning toward annoyed.
Jungkook doesnโt rush to answer. He doesnโt even look at her right away. Instead, he grabs an oversized shirt, pulling it over his head like this conversation doesnโt concern him in the slightest.
โSheโs leaving,โ he says, like thatโs enough.
You let out a sharp scoff. โThe hell I am.โ
That gets a reaction.
Not from her.
From him.
Itโs subtleโjust the corner of his mouth pulling into something that almost resembles a grin, like he finds you more entertaining than anything else. Itโs not warm. Not kind.
Provocative.
The blonde woman shifts her weight, clearly irritated now, her gaze narrowing slightly as she looks at you again. โI think you heard him.โ
You donโt move.
Not an inch.
โI heard him,โ you reply coolly. โI just donโt care.โ
Her annoyance sharpens, visible now, but Jungkook doesnโt step in. Doesnโt correct you. Doesnโt repeat himself. If anything, he looks more interested now, watching the tension build like itโs something worth his time.
The woman steps further into the room, and now that you actually look at her, itโs obvious. The red dress clings to her body, cut far too short to be anything but intentional, the fabric hugging her curves like she walked in here knowing exactly what she came for.
Not the fight.
Him.
You almost snort at the realization.
She barely spares you another glance before her attention shifts fully to Jungkook, like youโve already been dismissed. โYou were incredible tonight,โ she says, her tone smoothing out into something softer, almost impressed. โI was here. Watched the whole thing.โ
Jungkook doesnโt react the way she expects.
He doesnโt even look at her.
โGood,โ he says simply, already reaching for a bag that looks like his, slinging it over his shoulder like the conversation means nothing.
The woman doesnโt seem discouraged.
If anything, she leans into it.
She steps closer, her movements slow, deliberate, like sheโs used to getting attention this way. And maybe she is. But this time, thereโs something else in it tooโsomething sharper. When she shifts closer to him, her gaze flicks to you for just a second.
Oh.
There it is.
She sees you as a problem.
A threat.
The realization makes something in you clickโand instead of being bothered, you grin.
Actually grin.
You shake your head lightly, almost amused now as you look between them.ย
Her hand brushes lightly against his arm, her voice dropping as she says something under her breath, something meant just for him.
JK finally looks at her.
Not interested. Not even tempted.
โNot tonight,โ he says flatly, pulling his arm away without hesitation. Thereโs no softness in it, no apology. Just a quiet finality that lands harder than anything else.
Itโs enough.
Her expression tightens, the confidence slipping just slightly as she straightens, clearly not satisfied with the answer. For a second, it looks like she might push it, but she doesnโt. Instead, she exhales sharply, shooting you one last look before turning on her heel and walking out.
The door closes behind her.
Silence settles for a beat.
Then his attention shifts.
Back to you.
And this time, thereโs no amusement left in it.
Just irritation.
โYouโre still here,โ he says, like itโs a problem that hasnโt fixed itself yet.
You let out a sharp breath, disbelief mixing with the anger that never really left.
โI canโt believe you,โ you say, your voice tight, almost shaking. โYou just walk out of there like itโs nothing. Like it didnโt even happen.โ
He doesnโt respond.
That only makes it worse.
โMario is in there,โ you continue, stepping closer again, your frustration building all over again. โBarely conscious, coming in and out of itโand youโre justโฆ here. Moving on. Like this is normal.โ
Your eyes flick briefly to the door, then back to him.
โAnd what, now itโs back to this?โ you add, your tone sharper. โGirls lining up because you won? Like thatโs all this is to you?โ
His expression barely shifts.
If anything, it hardens.
He doesnโt react the way you expect.
No apology. No defense.
Instead, he reaches into his bag, pulls out a thick fold of cash, and before you can even register it, he grabs your hand and forces it open, pressing the money into your palm.
โEnough?โ he asks, tone flat. โOr you gonna keep talking?โ
You stare down at it for half a second, disbelief hitting first, then anger flooding right after.
Youโre about to throw it straight back at himโ
But he speaks again.
โGive it to him,โ he adds, nodding slightly toward the door. โCall itโฆ a consolation prize.โ
Thereโs a pause, just enough for it to land.
Then, quieter, with that same careless edge, โFor getting dropped that fast.โ
Your fingers tighten around the money without you meaning to, your jaw clenching as the insult settles heavy in the air.
Before you can reactโ
He moves.
Itโs quick. Too quick.
His hand comes up, and his thumb brushes over the corner of your lips, slow enough to feel deliberate, wiping at something you didnโt even realize was there. The touch is brief, but it lands heavier than it should, heat lingering where his skin just was.
You freeze.
Not because you want to.
Because you didnโt expect it.
He pulls his hand back, glancing at his thumb like heโs checking the faint smear of red before letting out a quiet, almost amused breath.
โFix yourself,โ he says, voice low, edged with something mocking. โWouldnโt want you going back to your guy looking like that.โ
His eyes flick back up to yours, that same faint smirk tugging at his mouth.
โLipstickโs smudged, Red.โ
And just like that, heโs done. He grabs his bag, throws it over his shoulder, and walks past you without another glance, like the conversation never mattered to him in the first place, like you never mattered enough to leave an impression. The bag shifts as he moves, heavy, the faint rustle unmistakableโyou donโt even need to look twice to know itโs stuffed with cash. Easy money. Hard-earned in all the wrong ways. He carries it like itโs nothing.
The door shuts behind him with a quiet click, and the shift is immediateโthe room falling into a stillness that feels almost unnatural after everything that just happened.
The silence presses in, heavy and unfamiliar. The faint trace of his cologne lingers in the airโsomething sharp, clean, expensiveโcutting through the stale mix of sweat and smoke that clings to everything else in this place. It doesnโt belong here. It doesnโt fit the cracked walls, the worn furniture, the quiet evidence of violence that lingers in every corner. And somehow, neither does he, even though he clearly owns it.
You donโt move right away. Your hand is still loosely curled around the cash he forced into your palm, your other lifting without you realizing it, fingers hovering near your lips where his thumb had brushed just moments ago. The sensation is gone, but not really. It lingers in your head, in the way your body reacts before your mind can catch up, and that alone is enough to make your jaw tighten.
Your heartbeat hasnโt slowed. If anything, itโs worse nowโfaster than it was before you even walked in here, louder in your ears, harder to ignore. You swallow, forcing your hand to drop, grounding yourself, dragging your focus back to something real. Back to why you came here in the first place.
Because whatever that was, whatever just passed between you and him, it doesnโt matter.
Mario is still down the hall, hurt, barely conscious, and this place hasnโt changed just because you stepped into one room and out of another. Itโs still exactly what you thought it wasโa place where violence is entertainment, where people walk in and donโt always walk out the same, and where no one stops to care what happens once the fight is over.
a/n: okay so this happened in the last 24 hours, don't ask me how I still can't believe this story happened lmaooo but I have had so many story ideas in my head and I genuinely missed writing, just something for fun, something fresh. I also wanted to do boxer jk for the longest time!! hope you guys enjoyed the surprise and I can't see what you think of this โก
Summary: Bound by a curse to watch you die again and again, the Duke refuses to release you now, even if it means defying fate itself. (One shot)
Warnings: Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, If youโre not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.
A/N: Another one for my birthday celebration!๐ค I hope you enjoy this!
The man in front of you shrieked, a guttural, raw soundโjust as the sharp end of a sword burst from his chest, the steel gleaming for a heartbeat before it tore its way out his back. The sheer force behind the blow had split through the thick armor he wore, and youโan innocent bystander caught in the wrong place at the wrong timeโwere not spared. The blade grazed your cheek in its exit, leaving behind a stinging cut.
Blood was dripping from the cut.
Blood was everywhere.ย
Your eyes widened at the gruesome carnage. This was merely a dream and you wanted so badly to wake up. But the burn in your cheek was too real, the metallic scent in the air too sharp.
The man fell down in front of you with a thud, his eyes unblinking. Lifeless.
And standing over him was the man who had wielded the blade, his dark eyes emotionless, his form not a drop of blood nor tear and it was apparent to anyone that he was winning the battle. His brows drew together when his gaze locked with yours.
He blinked once.
And before you knew it, he marched to you fast and purposeful, uncaring of the dead man he just stepped on in haste. You stumbled backward with every instinct urging you to flee because even if this was a nightmare, you clung to life as though it was worth living. His hands were on you before you could take another stepโstrong, unyieldingโas he pulled you into his chest. One arm wrapped around you, the other cradled the back of your head, shielding you from the chaos.
โI thought Iโd never see you again, my love. I-I thought you were dead.โ
His voice trembled, his hands were shaking not from the war, no. It was because of you.ย
Your eyes darted past his shoulder, taking in the madness unfurling around you. Chaos reignedโmen clashing against men, steel flashing under the dim light, the air thick with dying breaths and guttural grunts. The wet, sickening sound of blades piercing flesh mingled with the metallic tang of blood in the air.
The last thing you remembered before this nightmare was you waiting for the elevator, your bones exhausted from your work that ended way too late. Youโd been dreaming of collapsing into bed, yet the elevator had taken an eternity to arrive. When it finally dinged open, you expected empty walls and the familiar hum of machinery.
Instead, you saw a battlefield.
That was the last thing you remembered.
And now, as the world tilted and your knees buckled, the final image before darkness claimed you was this strangerโs faceโeyes shadowed with worry, lips parting as if to call your nameโjust before you fell into the abyss.
What a fucking strange dream.
โI am telling you yet once again, Duke Taehyung, my sister died four years ago! She cannot be that person-โ
โShh,โ the man beside you hushed him, his voice low, almost chiding, as his fingers brushed through your hair with a gentleness that didnโt match the tension in the air. โYouโre going to wake her up, Jungkook.โ
Your eyes felt heavy, your head pounding. The voices were muffled at first, distant, like they were speaking from the other side of a wall. Who were they? And why were they so loud when you were just trying to sleep off the hellish marathon of overtime youโd endured all week?
Wait. Overtime. Work.
A sudden jolt of panic snapped through you. โShit,โ you thought, โI oversleptโโ
You shot upright, prepared to scramble through your morning routine on pure adrenalineโฆ only to freeze mid-motion.
Two men looking at you: one with shock and one with tenderness as if he was afraid you would vanish if he blinked.
ย โAhh. You woke her up. She needs rest, Jungkook!โ The one with the gentle eyes scolded.
The said man blinked his doe eyes at you before taking a hesitant and shaky step closer. โThalia?โ
Instinct kicked in. You lurched to your feet, nearly losing your balance, retreating until your back hit the far wall. Your palms flattened against the cold surface, putting as much space between you and them as possible.
A long, loaded beat passed.
The one called Taehyung glared at Jungkook, and the latter kept looking at you with tears brimming in his eyes.
โWhoโs Thalia?โ
โYou are, my love,โ Taehyung answered smoothly, tilting his head in a way that made the statement sound like an undeniable truth.
โI-I'm,โ you gulped to calm your nerves. โIโm Y/N.โ
โYou looked so thin. Please eat more, my love,โ Taehyung, a duke you realized when servants kept addressing him as such, implored you as he placed more food on your plate.ย
You stared at the spread before you: roasted meats glistening under candlelight, fruits arranged like art, bread so soft it looked like it had been baked by angels. It was the kind of meal youโd only ever seen in historical dramas.
The room itself was suffocating in its grandeur. Gold leaf gleamed on every surface, the walls embossed with curling, intricate patterns you were sure belonged to a world several centuries behind your own. The massive chandelier above dripped crystals like frozen raindrops, scattering light over everything in warm, regal hues.
More so, the clothes they were wearing were so far from the simplistic clothes one would wear. And duke? There was no royalty in your time. There were no โYour Majestyโsโ and โYour Highnessโโ. People wore hoodies and cursed at bad Wi-Fi. Thisโฆ this wasnโt your time.
Youโd tried pinching yourself a dozen times already, hard enough to leave little crescent marks in your skin. But you never woke up. You only ended up with a stinging arm and Taehyung scolding you like youโd committed some kind of personal offense against him.
Where the fuck were you?ย
โIโm not Thalia.โ
Jungkook continued looking at you as though you were a ghost that came back to life while Taehyung rested his chin on his palm as he focused on you, his dark eyes staring into yours gently. He shrugged noncommittally, โOkay.โ
You blinked, thrown off by the quick surrender. โIโm really notโokay?โ
The corner of his mouth curved into something dangerously close to a smile. โSure. You can be whoever you wantโฆ as long as you remain mine.โ
Jungkook rubbed his forehead from the stress brought about by Taehyung and his insistence that you were Jungkookโs younger sister who since perished four years ago. โThalia,โ he finally said, his voice hoarse from holding back, โwasโฆ Taehyungโs fiancรฉe.โ
You blinked at him. This was the first thing he said to break his silence. โIโm not herโฆ.โ
โI know.โ His gaze slid briefly to Taehyung, his tone hardening. โYou want to know why I know, Taehyung? Itโs because she died in front of us. Four years ago.โย
โSure, Jungkook,โ Taehyungโs shrug was deliberate, dismissive, his eyes never leaving you. Then, with infuriating ease, he let his gaze drop pointedly to your untouched plate. โThereโs a minimal percentage of chance that people will have the same birthmark in the same place in the same color right?โย
โWhat are you even saying, you dimwitโโ Jungkookโs voice snapped like a whip, but he stopped short when Taehyung moved.
The dukeโs hand slid across the table, warm fingers curling gently but firmly around your arm. You stiffened at the contact, instinct screaming to pull away. With unhurried precision, he pushed your sleeve upward, the fabric whispering over your skin until it bunched at your upper arm.
There, stark against the pale skin of your inner elbow, bloomed the faint but unmistakable blue birthmark.
Jungkookโs breath hitched.
Taehyungโs lips curved into the smallest, most self-satisfied smile.
And youโyour pulse roared in your ears, a sick twist of confusion and dread settling heavy in your gut.
โWhat does it mean?โ you asked when silence reigned the room. Jungkook looked like he couldnโt get enough air in his lungs.
Jungkook sighed. โMy sisterโฆhad that same birthmark.โ
โOkay. T-thatโs just a nice and weird a-and peculiar coincidence, right? Haha,โ you laughed in a shaky voice before standing up and walking backwards, one step over the other, never leaving your eyes on the two men who were watching you: Taehyung with an amused smirk whilst Jungkook with what seemed like a perpetual shock.
You ran to the huge door to go homeโฆif you could.
โYou canโt outrun destiny, sweetheart!โ Taehyungโs amused voice carried throughout the hall.
The two men watched you as you ran. Taehyung calmly sipped his tea, his eyes on the window overlooking the courtyard where you were seen running. He didnโt worry, though. You wouldnโt get far nor would you be able to escape now that he had you back in his grasp. His people knew better than to risk his wrath. His people knew enough to know how insane he was when it came to you.
โI have this feeling that I am repeating myself, Duke. My sister is dead,โ Jungkook sighed, the knife in his hand pressing down through the crust as he sliced the bread on his plate. His voice was flat, but his grip on the blade was anything but calm. โNo matter the coincidence, she isnโt her.โ
โI am truly aware, Jungkook. Your sister of this world is dead.โ
His hand stilled. โWhat are you saying?โ
โHer clothes are peculiar and quite indecent by our custom. Her words, her accent โ those are not from anywhere else Iโve been in this country. She is not from here. She is your sisterโฆ but of the other world.โ
Jungkookโs gaze sharpened, suspicion lacing his voice. โHow are you sure?โ
โDo you remember,โ Duke said quietly, โfive years ago, when we were sent to the front of the war? When I killed the son of the witch in the far south?โ
Jungkookโs brow furrowed. โYesโฆwhat is the importance in this matter?โ
โDo you remember what she told me?โ
โThatโฆ just like her, you would lose your most beloved in this world.โ Jungkookโs voice was barely above a whisper now. โThat youโdโฆ keep on losing her until you feel her pain a hundredfold.โ
โI saw her two years ago,โ Duke continued, his tone unyielding. โIn the countryside. And when I was about to go to her, a temperamental horse struck her down before I could reach her. I watched how she was struck down, her bones shattered under the weight of the horse. But did you know I saw her again? Last year, when I was sent to the hospital during the war. She was laid beside me. And I watched her die for the third time. The sound of her wheezing breath, the sight of her tearsโฆthose are the things no man could get out of his head.โ
The bread knife slipped from Jungkookโs fingers, clattering onto the plate, but neither man looked at it.
โIโm not going to lose her this time,โ Duke Taehyung swore.
---
โThis is a maze. I swear to heavens,โ you grumbled under your breath as you rounded another corner. You felt like you were walking for so long now with no end in sight. You wanted to go home. You wanted to sleep on your own bed, order a milk tea or something when you woke up, and you even missed going to work. You wanted your life back.
You were sniffing as you looked up at the thick and tall wall. Maybe you could climb that? You were seriously contemplating that when you heard a relaxed voice behind you.
โThatโs pretty high, my love.โ
You snapped your head to the side so fast your neck protested.
He was leaning casually with an apple in his hand against the corner youโd just passed, as though heโd been there the entire time, watching the high wall before setting his eyes on you floundering. His arms were crossed, dark eyes amused under the lazy tilt of his lashes. The faintest smirk tugged at his lips.
Your breath caught. โHow long have you beenโโ
โLong enough,โ he interrupted smoothly, pushing himself off the wall and strolling toward you, each step deliberate. The narrow pathway seemed even smaller with him in it. He patted your head as you struggled with catching your breath. โTired? Letโs go back, my love. It has been hours.โ
While you struggled to catch your breath and attempted to understand that despite the impossibility of another realm existing, the Duke simply looked at ease and too different from the one you met in the battlefield. His eyes were no longer empty as though it was a chamber. Now, he looked like he was a child looking at magic. โPlease. I am not her.โ
He didnโt flinch, didnโt even look offended. Instead, he tilted his head, studying you with the same maddening calm that made your skin prickle.
โI know,โ he said simply, almost gently. โYouโre not my Thalia.โ Then his lips curved, slow and deliberate. โBut I think weโre going to get married anywayโฆ which still makes you my fiancรฉe.โ
His tone was so unshakably certain it felt less like a statement and more like a verdict you had no say in.
โThis is a dream,โ you whispered, more to yourself than to him. โThis is a dream. Iโm going to wake up in fiveโฆ fourโฆ threeโฆ twoโฆ one.โ
Taehyung only watched you count down, unhurried, biting into the apple in his hand with a crisp, deliberate snap.
โYouโre still here,โ he said.
Your throat tightened. โIโm still hereโฆโ
โThis isnโt a dream.โ
He smiled at you, the kind of smile that made you feel like youโd already lost a battle you hadnโt agreed to fight.
โNow that thatโs clear,โ he said smoothly, โletโs go back. We need to buy you clothes. Jewelries. Shoes. Wedding ring.โ
You blinked at him, stunned. โWhat wedding ring?!โ
His brows rose in mock surprise, the corners of his mouth twitching. โOhโฆ too soon?โ he asked, voice dripping with faux innocence.
You gaped at him. โToo soon? Weโre not evenโโ
He was already walking ahead, waving a hand over his shoulder as if the matter was settled. โWeโll fix the timeline on the way. I prefer emeralds, by the way. They suit you.โ
You stood frozen for a moment, torn between chasing after him to argue and running in the opposite direction altogether. Unfortunately, your feet chose the first option before your brain could decide otherwise.
You followed Taehyung.
---
The boutique once bouncing with laughter and movement from the customers into an almost suffocating silence as soon as the elusive Kim Taehyung entered.
He was one of the most eligible bachelors in the entire continent, yet the society knew not to approach him. The society had long since learned to admire him from a distance. Despite the vast wealth his family amassed since the beginning of time, no one dared approach him. Not because they thought they couldnโt please him.
No. It was because they knew they couldnโt survive him.
And above all, everyone knewโno one could replace you.
So to their surprise, he walked inside the boutique with a young woman. And for heavenโs sake, Duke Taehyung was smiling. His deep chuckles could be heard across the room. He was already so beautiful. But happiness made him look more ethereal like the Gods took their time to create him.
They were too engrossed with the never-seen happy duke that they almost did not notice you. Almost. Because one lady called Thaliaโs name.
You didnโt turn, still not used to being Thaliaย in this world. But Taehyung turned. His eyes losing the warmth in his eyes. For that one second, there was the man they all knew. The infamous war strategist, the unshakable aristocrat whose cold, unreadable face had sent grown men to their knees.
โBut can you even imagine doing the laundry?โ you said, oblivious to the sudden shift in his demeanor, gesturing wildly with your hands as you explained. โI swear, that many layers of clothes are detrimental to my hands. You donโt even have a washing machine.โ You scrunched your nose, tugging at the elaborate fabric draped over your shoulders. โI canโt even move in this!โ
โWhat is a washing mas-heen?โ His brow furrowed, his voice dipping into that low timbre that carried across the boutique.
โMachine,โ you corrected patiently, then launched into an animated explanation, complete with hand motions, about the miraculous device that cleaned clothes without the need for sore backs or wrinkled fingers. You described the rumble of the spin cycle, the smell of fresh detergent, the way everything came out warm and soft, missing the way the entire room now hung on your every word, as if you were some exotic storyteller from a faraway land.
And Taehyung, the man who could turn his enemies to stone with a single glare, leaned forward slightly, actually listening.
โSo if we have this machine,โ he said slowly, as though testing the unfamiliar word on his tongue, โthen youโd want to stay?โ
You grinned. โProbably!โ
He hummedโa sound low and almost amusedโbefore straightening to his full height. The warmth flickered back into his eyes, quick enough that only you might have caught it.
โOkay,โ he said at last, his voice smooth and leaving no room for protest, โbut for now, we need to buy you clothes.โ
You stared at him as if heโd suggested dueling the sun. โClothes? Like these?โ You gestured dramatically to the heavy skirts and layers already trying to suffocate you. โTaehyung, Iโm telling you, these outfits are weapons. The enemy wonโt even have to fight me! They can just wait for me to collapse under the weight of the fabric.โ
The corner of his mouth twitched. โDonโt worry. Iโll kill them and their entire bloodline before they could even get to you,โ he murmured, already signaling the boutiqueโs attendant as though the decision was final.
โWhat?!โ
Around you, whispers rose like wind through dry leavesโno one had ever heard the Duke indulged anyone like this. More so, the whispers of Thalia coming back to life were spreading like wildfire, darting from one hushed mouth to another.
You caught fragments.
โIt canโt be herโ,
โShe diedโฆ I saw the bodyโ,
โNo one could mistake those eyesโ.
Your hands stilled on the fabric you were fidgeting with. The name still felt like it belonged to someone else, like you were wearing another personโs skin. And yet here, it was the only identity they saw.
Taehyung, however, didnโt flinch at the rumors snaking around the boutique. His gaze swept the room once, sharp and cold enough to slice through the air, silencing the bolder whispers. Then, just as quickly, he turned back to you with that strange, almost domestic patience.
โTry this one,โ he said, lifting a gown of deep midnight blue, the color rich enough to drink the light around it. His tone was casual, but there was an undertoneโone that told you he had heard every word in the room, and he was choosing not to address it.
Taehyung bought you the entire boutique.
You wished you were kidding, but you werenโt. He bought the entire boutique when you refused to choose your clothes. And so now, you were apparently a business owner because he gave you the title.
โStop buying stores for me!โ you argued, waving a buttery croissant in the air for emphasis. You had been refusing to choose your food that morning, so naturally, he decided to purchase the entire cafรฉ. โI suck at managing myself. Imagine me managing businesses! I even go over budget most months because of coffee! I will bankrupt these establishments in a month. I am not kidding!โ
Taehyung tilted his head, his smile a dangerously charming curve that made the poor server nearly drop the tea tray. Heaven, you were beautifulโno, ethereal. Every version of you heโd seen across countless universes was remarkable, but youโฆ this youโฆ eclipsed them all.
โWhy do you have a budget in your world?โ he asked, genuine curiosity softening his otherwise regal tone.
โBecause, Taehyung, I am an overtly overworked and underpaid worker.โ You took a defiant bite of your croissant as if it were proof of your suffering. โThatโs just how it works over there. You work until you die to afford food and a roof over your head, and most importantly, coffee.โ
He scrunched his nose, โSounds terrible. Why do you even want to go back there?โ
You paused, the question lodging somewhere deep in your chest. The cafรฉโs warm air, the scent of fresh pastries, the way his eyes were fixed entirely on youโall of it pressed in around you.
โโฆI donโt know,โ you admitted quietly, before taking another bite, as if chewing could fill the strange emptiness in your answer. โIt is my home and this is not my world.โ
Taehyung didnโt say anything after that. It didnโt matter whether this was your world or not. You were here and it was all that mattered to Taehyung. This was the first time he ever got close to you after the you in his world died. Then it hit himโsharp and cruelโthat they had all died. Every version of you heโd known, in every mirrored strand of reality, gone.
And what was stopping that fucking witch from taking you away too? The thought lodged like a thorn in his chest, digging deeper with each beat of his heart.
โThe rumor is true then,โ a velvet voice suddenly broke the silence. Standing beside the table was a man who, like Taehyung, radiated power and authority. His draconic eyes were smiling as he looked down at you. โYou truly look like Thalia,โ he murmured, the words more like an observation than a compliment. โPray tell, my dearestโฆ what is your name?โ
You blinked, owlishly, before looking toward Taehyung. Who was this man? And more importantlyโhow was he so quick to accept that you werenโt Thalia?
Taehyungโs sigh was quiet but heavy, the kind that said heโd rather not be having this conversation. With a flick of his hand, he gestured toward the broad-shouldered stranger.
โMy love,โ Taehyung said, tone almost lazy but with a thread of steel running through it, โthis is Namjoon. The King of this empire.โ
It was so casual, so offhand that it took you a moment to fully process the words. The King. Not a king. The King.
When it became apparent Taehyung had no intention of introducing you beyond that, you stood up slowly, unsure of the proper etiquette. You dipped into what you hoped was an appropriate bow though the movement was stiff, awkward, and clearly not second nature to you.
The Kingโs deep chuckle rolled through the space like warm smoke.
โIโm Y/Nโฆ your highness,โ you said, your voice cautious but polite.
He waved away your formality with a flick of his hand, his smile easy but his eyes far too sharp to be harmless. โNo need for that. I am a King here, yesโฆ but I am certainly not a king in your world.โ
You truly didnโt think much of that interaction. King Namjoon, you thought, was just polite enough to want to know you. And maybe this world was just too different from yours for them to believe in the concept of magics and other worlds and several versions of you. In your world, they would call them lunatics for believing something so intangible.
The Duke quietly told you to stay in the cafรฉ while he went to advise the valet to ready the carriage. You were looking around at this strange world, your thoughts off to the farthest land when the King stood quietly beside you.
It took a moment for you to notice him, the King, whilst his hands clasped behind his back, a patient smile curved on his lips. โIt is just so eerie how similar you looked,โ he noted, his tone wistful and low as though he was back in time when she was alive.
โIโฆ take it that you knew her as well,โ you replied carefully, uncertain as to why the man holding the highest position in this world was taking his time to talk to you.
He nodded in affirmation, โWe grew up together. Me, Taehyung, Jungkook and his sister. We were inseparable untilโฆwell. Taehyung was cursed by the witch during the battle.โ
His gaze shifted toward the window, where Taehyung was speaking to the valet. โHe was never the same after that. Even more so when he kept seeing several versions of her die. Itโฆ does something to a man. Something is not right with him.โ
โWhy are you telling me this?โ you asked. Was that a warning in his voice or a plea?
โBecause Thalia was always like a little sister to me. And somehow, I felt guilty for sending the Duke in the war that time. Had it not been for his loyalty to me and the crown, then he would have never been cursed by the witch.โ
One decision could change the entire storyline; one choice was enough to cause immeasurable pain. Despite the charming way Taehyung kept presenting himself to you, his eyes held different story.
โItโs not your fault,โ you replied quietly. The King, you noted, cared for Taehyung and he carried the guilt for so long when it wasnโt his burden to do so.
He offered you a smile that didnโt reach his eyes. โBut right is right and wrong is wrong. You are not supposed to be here,โ he sighed as though this was a difficult choice to him. โI will reach out to the coven and see what could be done.โ
The cafรฉ door opened, the small bell above it chiming softly.
Taehyung stepped in, his eyes immediately finding you. For a moment, they flickered to Namjoon, and something unspoken passed between themโsharp, measured, unreadable.
โMy love,โ Taehyung said, voice cool and steady, โlet us go home.โ
Duke Kim Taehyung, you realized, loved spending time with you despite how busy he was. Apparently, nobles such as him didnโt get enough time to rest, as evidenced by the numerous paper works that arrived in the castle at any hour of the day. More so, people under his jurisdiction came to him for advice on several matters. You could see how much Taehyung was needed by his people, and yet, he never once missed a meal with you nor forgotten to carve out time for you.
Sometimes it was the quiet comfort of reading books together under the shade of the garden tree, his long legs stretched out lazily on the grass, his head tilting toward you whenever you whispered a passage you thought was funny. Other times, it was him desperately trying (and often failing) to learn how to brew that coffee you craved without the convenience of the strange โmachineโ you told him about. His brows would furrow, lips pursed in frustration, as he measured and poured with all the concentration of a seasoned general, only to hand you a cup that tastedโฆ questionable at best.
But even then, you drank it with a smile, because what mattered wasnโt the tasteโit was the way his eyes searched your face anxiously for approval, the way he leaned back with the smallest, proudest grin when you told him it was good.
The Duke, feared and revered by so many, softened in these moments. And though you knew he carried the weight of countless responsibilities, he never made you feel like a burden. If anything, it was as if you were the only thing keeping him grounded.
โNope.โ
โIt is the Kingdomโs annual celebration for the successful harvest. It is one of my duties to attend as the Duke to show unity.โ
โOkay, then attend. I will see you when you return. Iโll just read in the garden and learn horseback riding-โ
โYouโll learn without me? I forbid it. Youโll get hurt!โ
โBut didnโt you say the stableboy is an expert in riding?โ
โYes, but you deserve the best! And itโs me! Iโm the best!โ
โHumble muchโฆโ you murmured, rolling your eyes. โFine! Iโll just visit my cafรฉ to see if youโre already losing money.โ
โWe can do it tomorrow.โ His voice dropped an octave, his teasing gone. โWhy donโt you want to come?โ
Before you could escape, his hand caught your wrist, firm but gentle, pulling you closer. Suddenly, the space between you was gone. You had to tilt your head back to meet his eyes, so close that you could feel the warmth radiating from him, so close that his scent wrapped around you and muddled your thoughts.
It was close enough to truly see how beautiful he was. His long lashes framed his dark eyes like shadows, his straight nose cast in noble lines, and that small mole under his eyeโthe one that ruined you every timeโwas right there, inches away. He looked like an angel, but one dangerous enough to tempt you into crimes without hesitation, and you knew youโd follow if it meant following him.
โF-fine!โ you blurted out, cheeks heating. โItโs because I cannot dance, alright? I would most likely embarrass the shit out of you. Let me be in peace here, okay?โ
The confession hung between you, fragile and raw. For a moment, Taehyung just stared at you, and you could see the way his lips curled slowly, like heโd been waiting for this answer all along.
โSo thatโs it,โ he murmured, his deep voice rich with amusement. โMy brave girl who speaks her mind without hesitation is afraid of a little dance?โ
My?!
โIโm not afraid,โ you retorted quickly, though the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed you. โI justโฆ donโt want to trip over my own feet in front of the entire Kingdom. Youโd never live it down. And how come you didnโt deny that the cafรฉ is losing money already?!โ
His eyes sparkled as he leaned closer, his hand still holding your wrist as though daring you to pull away. โDonโt change the subject, my love.โ
โYou think I care about what they see? About what they whisper? Let them talk. You could fall flat on your face and Iโd still be the proudest man in that hall.โ
Your heart stuttered. The sincerity in his tone stole the air from your lungs, and you hated how easily his words got to you.
But then, as if realizing the heaviness of his own declaration, he softened it with a smirk. โBesidesโฆ if youโre worried about embarrassing me, thereโs a very simple solution.โ
โAnd whatโs that?โ you asked warily.
โIโll teach you.โ His grip on your wrist slid down until his fingers laced with yours, tugging you even closer. โTonight. Here. Just you and me. No court, no music, no eyes but mine. Youโll see that when I lead, youโll never stumble.โ
You blinked owlishly as your heart beat a little too fast for your liking. Was this heart attack? Was this the hereditary heart problem your doctors warned you about? Or was this simply because of him?
He was all the male leads you have been reading about combined. And of course, the guy had to be from the other realm as yours.
Just your luck.
You pushed him away, looking elsewhere to hide the blooming warmth on your cheeks. โThereโs not even any music,โ you excused when out of nowhere, his hand was on the small of your back pushing you gently closer to him. His other hand was quick to hold your hand in position as he took you in. He looked down at you like a man who had been starving for too long and yet, one look upon you was enough to clench his dying thirst. You looked to where your hands were intertwined. His large hand was completely engulfing you whilst yours looked impossibly small next to him.
You didnโt want to feel anything for him. You truly didnโt. But when did the heart ever listen? When did the heart ever followed logic and reasoning? When did the heart ever ask for permission before completely falling?
It was a beat before Taehyung moved, his form gently guiding yoursโand to your heartโs surprise, he started humming. His deep voice was ethereal, too beautiful for any world, each note wrapping around you like a spell you couldnโt resist. The melody was unfamiliar, but it felt timeless, as though it belonged only to this moment, only to you.
He twirled you effortlessly, his hand firm on your waist, the other never letting go of yours. The hem of your dress brushed the floor as you spun, and when you came back to him, closer than before, your breath hitched.
โSee?โ he murmured, his eyes locked on yours as though there was no one else in the universe. โNot a single misstep. You were made for this.โ
โFor dancing?โ you asked, your voice unsteady, betraying the rapid flutter of your chest.
His lips curved into the faintest smile, so soft it nearly undid you. โFor me.โ
---
The banquet was beautiful as it was held in the Kingโs palace. The high ceiling and even the walls were decorated with gold, catching the warm light of the chandeliers so that the entire hall glowed as though it had been bathed in sunlight. Long tables were filled with dishes too exquisite to touch, jeweled goblets glimmered with wine, and the air carried the rich mingling scents of roasted meat, honeyed pastries, and spiced fruit.
The band was playing in the far corner of the hall, violins and flutes weaving a melody that lifted the spirits of all present. The music mingled with the laughter of noblemen and the soft chatter of noblewomen, their jeweled gowns glittering as they swayed or leaned close to whisper secrets behind silk fans.
And as the two of you entered, everyone turned to you. Whispers followed as you passed them, skirts brushing against the gleaming marble floor, all while the Duke looked proud to have your arm around his. His stride was confident, unhurried, as though the entire courtโs eyes on you both was a crown he wore with satisfaction.
There, sitting on the throne, was the King himself. His heavy crown rested atop his head, gleaming with gold and diamonds, the weight of his power undeniable. Draped in velvet robes and adorned with rings that caught every flicker of light, he looked every bit of royal himself.
Your last conversation with him played on your mind like a curse you couldnโt shake, and your pulse quickened as the Duke guided you closer.
Taehyung bowed his head, his arm formally folded across his chest as he greeted the king.
โYour Majesty,โ he said, his voice deep and smooth, carrying the right blend of respect and dignity. โI, Duke Kim Taehyung, present myself before you on this day of celebration.โ
โRise, Duke Kim. Y/N, I do hope you enjoy the Kingdomโs celebration,โ he turned to you, his knowing eyes taking in your form. โAnd Duke Kim, please do find the time to respond to my letters.โ
Taehyungโs jaw clenched even as he retained his respectful form to the king. โI will, King Namjoon. For now, letโs enjoy the banquet. I did hear that Seokjinโs sister will be hereโฆโ
The Kingโs eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering across his otherwise composed face before he quickly cleared his throat. โSheโs back after a year, thenโฆ Fine. I will find you later. Please do enjoy the night of festivities.โ
The words were smooth, dismissive on the surface, but the weight of them hung heavy in the air. You caught the faintest twitch of the Kingโs fingers against the armrest of his throne, the tightening of his jaw before he lifted his goblet with rehearsed ease.
Taehyung bowed once more, his arm tightening around yours as he guided you away. The murmur of whispers resumed the moment you both turned your backs to the throne, like a wave crashing through the glittering hall.
โWhat was that about?โ you whispered, your curiosity pricking at you even as you kept your eyes forward, refusing to give the nobles more reason to gawk.
โThe King offered marriage to Seokjinโs sister,โ Taehyung explained quietly, his voice pitched low as though the walls themselves might carry secrets to prying ears. โTo which the Kingโs mother refused adamantly. She thought the King should marry a princess and not merely a noble. It was a whole storyโSeokjinโs sister left the kingdom without a word, and nowโฆ now sheโs back.โ
You blinked, the threads of scandal knitting themselves into an image in your mind. โThatโs why he never married?โ
Taehyung nodded once, his jaw tightening. โIt was also the reason why the King didnโt take another bride, despite being past the appropriateย age. It was either her or no one. His mother knew he would rather end the bloodline than marry someone else. The Queen fought him on it constantly. But Namjoonโฆโ His gaze flicked briefly to the throne where the King sat, smiling faintly as nobles paid him their courtesies. โNamjoon knew what he wanted. And he was patient enough to wait for her.โ
You swallowed. The thought of being lovedโor claimedโwith such intensity, enough to risk the crown itself, made something stir in your chest you didnโt want to name.
โI do hope Seokjinโs sister can handle the King now,โ Taehyung continued after a pause, his tone dropping heavier. โHe changed a lot since she left. Harder. Sharper. He rules with steel now, not just wisdom. The court whispers about it still.โ
You tilted your head, curiosity clawing at you. โWhat happened after she left?โ
Taehyungโs expression darkened, and his hand brushed against yours, grounding you with the smallest touch. โOne week after she disappeared, the Queen, his mother, fell into an incurable sickness. It was so sudden that not even a week passed before she perished.โ
--
To anyone looking from outside, the two of you were lost in your own world, heads leaned close, voices hushed but animated. To you and him though, you were only talking about the similarities and differences of the desserts in your worlds.
โChocolate truffle is perfection,โ you insisted, gesturing animatedly with your fork. โSmooth, rich, melts in your mouth. Thereโs nothing quite like it.โ
Taehyung, lips curved into that infuriatingly amused smile, leaned an elbow against the table. โBut it sounds almostโฆ too sweet. Our candied figs have balance: sweet, tart, texture. Yours sounds decadent but overwhelming.โ
โYouโre overwhelming,โ you muttered under your breath, stabbing at the custard in front of you.
Before he could retort, a shadow fell across the table. An elderly woman with a regal air stopped to your right, her jeweled gown rustling softly. Her hands trembled as she reached out and brushed your arm with startling gentleness.
You nearly jumped from surprise, eyes widening as you looked up at her.
โYou truly look like my Thaliaโฆโ she whispered, voice breaking as her eyes filled. Her tears werenโt of joy but of sorrow, deep and aching. She looked you over from head to toe, drinking in the sight of you as if she were seeing a ghost.
Your throat closed. Thalia? Was this her mother? Someone related to her?
The Duke was exceptionally quiet, his expression unreadable as he rose slightly and bowed his head in respect.
โYour Grace,โ he greeted evenly.
The womanโs sorrowful gaze shifted to him, her face twisting into a frown that sharpened her beauty into something tragic. โYou even managed to find her from the other world, Taehyung. You even managed to slink your way into her life. When will you stop?โ
Your heart thundered in your chest. Her words were sharp, accusing, and yet her voice shook with pain. You turned to Taehyung, but his eyes remained on her, jaw tight, shoulders rigid. He said nothing.
Then, her gaze returned to you. She cupped your hand in both of hers, warm and trembling. โDarling,โ she said softly, tenderly, as though the word belonged to someone else. โIf you ever need to escape, you can always come to us, okay? We are your parents in this world. Heavensโฆโ Her breath hitched, her tears spilling freely. โThis is what my Thalia would have looked like in this age.โ
The entire hall seemed to fade away, the laughter, the music, the golden glowโuntil there was only her grief, Taehyungโs silence, and your own pounding heart.
โShe is clearly not Thalia,โ Taehyung finally said, his voice deep, calm, and yet carrying an edge sharp enough to cut through the air. The weight of it silenced the murmurs of those nearby, every word drilled firmly into the minds of anyone listening.
โWe are all so deeply sad of Thaliaโs demise,โ he continued, inclining his head ever so slightly, his tone respectful but unyielding. โBut Y/N isnโt her. Therefore, sheโs not your daughter, nor your anything.โ
A pause. His hand shifted subtly to yours under the table, warm, grounding, as though to remind you that his words were more than formality. They were protection.
โShe doesnโt need your help.โ
Then, as though politely dismissing a guest overstaying their welcome, Taehyung smiled. It was polite, measured, but to anyone who knew him well, it was as good as a barrier being raised. A smile that looked gracious yet meant go away.
The regal woman flinched, just faintly, her trembling hands pulling back to her chest. Her lips parted as if to argue, but the Dukeโs gaze held steady, unwavering.
Around you, the air felt charged, nobles pretending to be focused on their conversations while their eyes darted toward the three of you. A few gasps, a few whispersโbut no one dared interrupt.
The womanโs eyes softened again when she looked back at you, sorrow warring with restraint. โShe may not be Thalia,โ she whispered, her voice breaking, โbut she carries her face. And that alone is enough for me.โ
With that, she turned and stepped away, her regal form trembling as she vanished back into the sea of silks and jewels.
Only when she was gone did Taehyung exhale softly, his smile fading, his jaw still tight. His thumb brushed against your knuckles, as though reassuring himself you were still there.
โDonโt listen to her,โ he murmured, low enough only for you to hear. โYouโre you. No one else.โ
Despite his assuring words, you couldnโt help but wonder why this was the second time someone reached out and offered you an escape.
Your flight or fight risk was at an all time high as he looked at you with a smile that didnโt quite reach his eyes. The warmth you had grown used to, the quiet laughter, the soft patience, the almost boyish pride when he brewed your bitter coffeeโwas gone. Right now, he looked a lot like the man you first met on the battlefield. Cold. Calculating. A Duke who carried steel not only in his sword but in his soul.
Somehow, though, he was scarier that when he was in the battlefield and you didnโt like that one bit. Despite how beautiful Duke Taehyung was and despite how he looked as if he had been carved by the Gods themselves, he looked every inch the warrior he truly was. The sharpness of his jaw, the set of his shoulders, the unwavering gaze that seemed to strip you bare. His beauty did not soften him now; it only made the danger more pronounced, like a blade gleaming too brightly to ignore.
Instead, you smiled.
---
And as Taehyung twirled you around, his eyes remained trained on you with an intensity you had never seen before. The hall spun in gold and music, but his gaze pinned you as though the two of you stood alone.
โYouโre still thinking about what she said, arenโt you?โ
Your lips parted, but no words came. You didnโt need to affirm itโhe knew. He always knew.
โWhat was she like?โ you whispered.
โThalia?โ
You nodded.
Taehyung sighed, the sound low, heavy, as he pulled you closer. His cheek rested against your head, his breath brushing your hair. You couldnโt see his expression, couldnโt read the storm behind his eyes.
โShe was the true definition of a noble,โ he said finally, his voice steady but threaded with something you couldnโt name. โCourteous. Gracious. Every word and movement polished until there was nothing to fault. She carried herself with dignityโnever faltered, never bent, no matter the weight placed on her.โ
He paused, the music swelling between you, his hand tightening just slightly on your waist. โWe were promised from the young age. I fell for her. She was my first love and I truly thought we were perfect for each otherโฆthat we would get married. I did everything right for her, but I guess you couldnโt really force what wasnโt there. No matter what you do, what isnโt there, isnโt there.
She didnโt love me back. Instead, she loved someone else.โ
Your eyes widened at his admission. All along, you thought that their love was reciprocal that was why he never loved anyone else. All along, you thought that it was a love so epic that forgetting and moving on werenโt simply on the table. But this? This was something else entirely. How he held on for too long and despite the pain and she never loved him was lost on you.
He chuckled tonelessly at the shocked look on your face. His hold on you shifted, firm yet careful, as though he was both keeping you close and bracing himself. โWhat? Surprised that I wasnโt the one she wanted? That the noble, untouchable Duke could be rejected so thoroughly?โ
You smiled to ease the cutting tension in the atmosphere. โThalia must have been so blinded to not see how beautiful you are.โ
Taehyung blinked, his eyes flickering down to your lips before trailing back up to your eyes, as though he needed confirmation that you truly meant it. His disbelief was stark, raw. โDo you think I am beautiful, Y/N?โ
โThe most,โ you answered honestly, something that you didnโt think hard of to know that it was the truth.
โDoes it mean that you like me?โ
It was a beat too long, and to Taehyung it was forever. His heart had stopped, suspended between hope and despair, every muscle in his body wound tight like a bowstring. His usually composed form betrayed him; his breath caught, his eyes searching desperately for yours. Your silence was worse than facing thousands of enemy.
And then, you nodded.
Only then did he feel alive again.
The music swelled around you, but the world seemed to fall silent in that moment. His hand on your waist tightened, his gaze burning into you like a man fighting with restraint. For a beat, neither of you moved, the air between you trembling with something far stronger than the rhythm of the dance.
Then he did.
His forehead leaned into yours, his breath ghosting over your lips, his voice barely above a whisper. โSay it,โ he ordered ever so gently.
Your heart raced, but you couldnโt look away. โI think I like you, Taehyung.โ
Something broke inside him at your words. His lips claimed yours, firm but almost trembling, as though he had been waiting a lifetime for this and was terrified it might shatter in his hands. The kiss was deep yet tender, filled with everything unspokenโthe loneliness heโd endured, the weight he carried, and the desperate hope that maybe, just maybe, he could be loved again.
You melted against him, your fingers curling into the fabric of his coat as he pulled you closer, erasing the careful distance he always kept. The world, the palace, the whispers, the golden light, they all blurred and disappeared, leaving only you and him.
When he finally pulled back, just enough to look at you, his chest heaved like he had run a thousand miles. His eyes searched yours, dark and vulnerable. โDonโtโฆ donโt take those words back, Y/N. Not ever.โ
---
Ever since your admission, the Duke had never been separated from you.
Any chance he got, his lips was on yours, engulfing you like a man starved. You never claimed to be a saint, and with Taehyungโs relentless, insatiable touch, you doubted you could even pretend. His seducing ways, dark eyes heavy with desire, velvet voice whispering words that burned against your skin, were almost enough to make you give in completely.
Each night he would leave you breathless, each kisses in the garden, each caress of his hands on your body, and the unmistakable harness in between his thighs were telltale signs that the Duke was almost to his breaking point.
Ever since that night, Kim Taehyung was insatiable.
The rebels at the border had grown restless, threatening the fragile peace. A show of strength was demanded, and the Dukeโever the Kingdomโs sword and shieldโwas the answer.
You watched from the courtyard as he prepared. His movements were mechanical, practiced, yet heavy with the weight of parting. He fastened his armor piece by piece, the polished steel catching the sunlight. His warhorse pawed at the earth, restless, sensing the coming storm. His sword gleamed as he lifted it, the steel so sharp it almost hummed in the air.
And all the while, you could only stare, your heart pounding with dread.
He noticed.
Of course he noticed.
Taehyungโs gaze softened, a smile tugging at his lips as though it were meant to reassure you. He stepped close, gloved fingers brushing your cheek with tenderness that contradicted the warrior he had become in this moment.
โI will return to you,โ he promised in a voice low and steady. โI always did when I had no reason to. What more now, when I have you?โ
The promise hung heavy in the air, too beautiful, too fragile.
You barely managed to whisper his name before his mouth was on yours, deep and lingering, pouring all his vows, all his longing, into that one final kiss. It was not the kiss of a man leaving for war, but of a man staking his claim: that no distance, no battle, could tear him from you.
And with that, he mounted his horse.
The Duke turned once, his eyes burning into yours as though engraving your face into memory.
Then, with the sound of hooves pounding against the stones, Kim Taehyung rode east.
On the third day of the battle, the King came.
โThe world is made of balance,โ Namjoon began, his deep voice reverberating through the chamber. He walked closer, each step deliberate. โThis isnโt your world. Your presence here causes imbalance, which translates to chaos. It is starting now with the war in the east. It will not end there. People will suffer.โ
Your breath caught, but you could not look away.
โYou shouldnโt be here,โ he continued, softer now, though the weight of his words pressed harder.
You swallowed hard, throat aching with words you couldnโt form.
โI know you are a good person, Y/N,โ Namjoon said, pausing just a few steps from you. For a moment, there was something almost kind in his gaze, like he pitied you. โBut it is time to go back to your world. You donโt belong here.โ
The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating, until he finally gave his decree:
โTomorrow night, I will return. I hope you have made your decision by then.โ
He didnโt wait for your reply. With a final glance that sharp, sorrowful, resoluteโhe turned, his cloak brushing the polished marble as he disappeared through the doors.
The moment he was gone, the estate seemed to exhale, but you couldnโt. Your chest was tight, your hands trembling. The fire burned steadily in the hearth, yet all you felt was cold.
You knew even before he left that you needed to come home and inevitably break the Dukeโs heart.
---
The screeching metallic sound of sword being dragged was what awoke the King.
His instincts were never wrong and right now; he knew danger was near. How it came this close to him despite the heavy security around the Kingโs court was troubling. This was not a simple threat.
No.
This was someone skilled enough to know how to end him.
Quietly, he reached for the knife under his pillow when he felt the cold kiss of a blade press against his throat.
โI wouldnโt if I were you, King Namjoon,โ the Duke warned, his voice devoid of any emotion.
Namjoon opened his eyes and even in the darkness and only bathed by the moonlight, Duke Taehyung looked as ruthless as he was in the battlefield. His hair was damp with sweat, his face streaked with traces of blood, his enemiesโ, not his. His armor was scuffed, dirtied, and yet his presence was sharper, deadlier than the sword resting on the Kingโs skin.
For a heartbeat, silence ruled the chamber. Only the whisper of the wind against the curtains and the pounding of Namjoonโs pulse filled the space.
โYou dare raise your weapon against me?โ Namjoon asked quietly, though his voice carried the weight of command. His hand twitched, but he did not reach for the hidden blade.
Taehyungโs eyes narrowed, his expression unreadable. โYou dare threaten what is mine,โ he countered, the words spoken with terrifying calm. โYou went to her. You told her she doesnโt belong here.โ
The Kingโs jaw clenched, but his voice remained steady. โBecause she doesnโt. You know this as well as I do, Taehyung. She is not from this world. Her presence will destroy the balance we have fought to protect.โ
The Dukeโs blade pressed harder against Namjoonโs throat, a bead of crimson welling where steel kissed skin. โThen let the world burn. I will not let you take her from me.โ
The King searched his generalโs eyes, and what he found there made his chest tighten. It was not madness, not recklessness, but devotion so fierce it rivaled faith itself.
โShe was never meant to stay,โ Namjoon said, his voice quieter now, almost sorrowful. โAnd you know it.โ
But Taehyung didnโt flinch. His grip on the sword was steady, his shadow looming larger as the moonlight caught the cruel line of his jaw. โWith all your wisdom, King Namjoon, my friend since childhood, did you truly think that I never knew how to get her back? Did you truly think I wouldnโt investigate, that it wouldnโt take all of me to learn how to stop that fuckin curse?
Did you not think that it isnโt past me to torture that witch? Did you think that I would take all those years of pain lying down?
I have always known how to stop the curse that killed me each time she dies in front of my eyes, King Namjoon.โ
Taehyungโs voice cracked like a whip in the silence of the chamber, the blade still pressed against Namjoonโs throat. His breath came heavy, his chest heaving with the weight of years unspoken.
โI always knew,โ he hissed, his tone dropping lower, more dangerous, โI just didnโt do anything about it because you are my King. And worst of all-โ his jaw tightened, fury twisting his beautiful face into something feral while tears brimmed in them, โ-you were my fucking friend!โ
Namjoonโs eyes darkened, but he did not move. The sword dug deeper.
โI knew how to end the curse.โ Taehyungโs voice trembled with rage, echoing in the room like thunder. โThe witch told me herself to spill the blood of a royal, feed it to the fireโฆ or pierce the heart of the one he loves most.โ
His lips curled into a cruel, broken smile as he stared into Namjoonโs eyes, the truth unraveling at last. โYou are the only living royalty. And the sister of Seokjin, she is your most beloved. Isnโt that right?โ
Namjoonโs breath caught, his jaw clenching, but his silence was answer enough.
Taehyungโs grip on the sword tightened until his knuckles turned white. His voice was no longer steady; it shook with years of grief, of betrayal, of madness kept at bay until now.
โI didnโt do it because you are my brother,โ he snarled. โI didnโt do it because I never wanted you to experience the hell I experienced, watching her die again and again while I lived on with her blood on my hands.โ
His eyes blazed, dark and wild as fire. He leaned closer, his voice breaking with a guttural roar.
โBut now?โ His smile was a cruel slash, his teeth bared like a predator about to tear into flesh.โNow you dare take her away from me?โ
The weight of the words fell heavy, the air between them sharp enough to cut.
For the first time in their lives, Namjoon realized: Taehyung wasnโt just his soldier anymore. He wasnโt even his brother. He was the monster the curse had made of him.
โTaehyungโฆโ Namjoonโs voice was low, steady, but the weight of his words pressed into the air like steel. โThis isnโt right. You know it. Youโve always known.โ
But Taehyung didnโt falter. His eyes, wild with grief and fire, locked onto him with a ferocity that made the Kingโs throat tighten. The blade at Namjoonโs neck glinted, steady and merciless.
โLeave us alone,โ Taehyung warned, his voice sharp as the edge he wielded. โOr I swear to the heavens themselves. I will not hesitate to kill noona tonight.โ
โDo you have no loyalty?โ
Taehyungโs lips curled into something between a snarl and a bitter smile. His eyes burned, dark and unrelenting. โMy loyalty is to her. Not to an institution, much less not to a king.โ
---
A week passed.
The King never returned, neither did Taehyung.
All your queries to the servants were left unanswered. Simply put, no one had heard from the Duke. It wasnโt until past midnight that a commotion stirred you from your restless slumber. The clamor of panicked voices, the pounding of hooves in the courtyard. Your heart clawed up your throat as you stumbled down the grand staircase, bare feet cold against the polished floor.
And there he was.
Duke Taehyung.
Covered in blood. His once-proud form sagged between two soldiers as though the weight of the world bore down on his shoulders. His armor was torn, his hair matted to his face, his breaths shallow.
โMy loveโฆโ His voice was hoarse, weak, yet threaded with something that broke you.
You rushed forward, hands trembling, hovering helplessly over him. You didnโt know where to touch and where not to. Which wounds were shallow, which were fatal? You were sobbing before you even realized it, your vision blurring until he raised a shaking hand to brush your tears away.
โWhy are you crying?โ he whispered.
โY-youโre hurt!โ Your words stumbled over themselves, your panic spiraling. โOh my god, we need-we need a doctor, please! We have to go now! Why arenโt you moving? Taehyung, pleaseโโ
But even weakened, his grip on your wrist was unyielding. His dark eyes locked onto yours. โY/N. Listen to me.โ His voice cracked with urgency. โThe portal closes tonight. You have to leave. If you donโtโฆ youโll be stuck here forever.โ
Your movements halted. His words should have terrified you. They should have sent you running. But the thought of leaving him, broken and bleeding before you, was unbearable. Leaving him without knowing about his state was unthinkable. You didnโt even consider it.
โNo.โ Your head shook violently as fresh tears spilled. โNo, Iโm not leaving you like this. I canโt. Taehyung, I wonโt!โ
His breathing hitched, and he studied you with an intensity that pinned you in place. โDo you understand what that means?โ His voice broke, but his gaze was unwavering. โIf you stayโฆ youโll never go back. Youโll be bound here. To me. Forever.โ
โI donโt care,โ you sobbed, clutching at him desperately. โI donโt care about any of that! What matters is you. What matters is that youโll be okay!โ
Taehyung paused, his lips parting as though your words carved through him. His eyes softened for a fleeting moment, yet something darker flickered there. โYou have my whole heart,โ he murmured. โI would rather die than make you feel trapped. Than have you resent me. Than live knowing you donโt love me as I do youโโ
โI love you, damn it!โ you cried, the words tearing out of you raw and unrestrained. โI love you, and I will not leave you! Do you hear me? Iโm staying. With you.โ
You threw yourself against him, wrapping your arms around his battered frame, your tears soaking into the blood on his chest. You begged, begged him to let the healers tend to him, begged him not to give up, begged him to stay alive for you.
And as you clung to him, broken and desperate, you did not see the curve of his lips. That dark, satisfied smirk hidden in the shadows. You did not see the gleam of triumph that burned in his eyes as he tightened his hold on you.
You had made your choice.
And it was him.
He would never let you go, not when this version of Thalia loved him back.
โ warnings/tags/genre: SFW, soulmate au, angsty, fluff, mentions of a past abusive relationship
โ word count: 5.9k
โ a/n: made it! this is theย bonus chapter of the original seriesย โLost & Foundโ, which I would recommendย reading before you read this because it might not make a lot of sense otherwise. Please be aware that this jumps timelines a bit, so be aware ofย the headings before each section.ย
I hope you guys enjoy! Thankย you all for waiting so patiently!
โ
โHello, my name is Christina, and Iโฆโ
ย ย ย ย ย ย โTake your time, Christina.โ
ย ย ย ย ย ย She takes a deep breath, keeping her eyes on the floor even as all eyes around the circle are on her. โI cut my thread because my soulmateโฆhe wasnโt a good man.โ
ย ย ย ย ย ย Another deep breath.
ย ย ย ย ย ย โAnd I think I may have ruined a lot of other peopleโs relationships.โ
Premise: Everyone always believes the same lie. Park Jimin believed it too, once. Not now, though. Not when the one thing he always felt that he could rely upon has been ripped away from him before he ever got the chance to show them that it was worth it. That he was worth it.ย
No. His red thread was cut long before he ever got the chance. And thus the thing heโd believed in for so long was revealed to be a lie. Of course the red string of fate can be broken. Because thereโs this thread, dangling just a few centimeters before abruptly ending.ย
Cut. Snipped. Ruined.
Warnings: This series is at times intensely emotional, and has several sad scenes/chapters. I really kind of bled this out and this is the result. While writing this I have been confronted with many questions about myself and my own motives in life, so I hope that youโll all be able to find the answers satisfactory.
Pairing: doctor!Jungkook x reader (ok, technically clinical technician!Jungkook lol)
Wordcount: 1.6k
Genre/Rating: Fluff! strangers to friends to a lilโ moreย ๐๐
Tags/Warnings: mentions blood just for a moment (when talking about JKโs work).ย shouldnโt be anything too crazy, Jungkook is just your annoying new neighbor that sings abnoxiously loud in the shower. oh, and did I mention that the two of you share a wall?ย
a/n: You wonderful, beautiful people!ย This post is a commission for the ARMY for AAPI Justice and Advocacy Event. Please click here to find more resources and consider donating to the cause! And THANK YOU @ezralia-writes for commissioning this! *insert round of applause and flowers* I hope you enjoy!
April 23rd
You shouldโve known it was too good to be true.
Youโd been living in utter bliss for the past six months, having moved across the city to a relatively quiet part of town. You had a neighbor; you were sure of it. Had seen their car in the parking lot too many times to not have one.
Itโs just, you never heard them. Let alone saw them.
Which was completely fine. The loud, obnoxious lifestyle people usually adopted in a city as bustling as Seoul had never suited you anyway. For six months, you basked in the glorious silence from your next door neighbor. The only signal that you ever got that they were even there was the occasional time youโd both be showering at the same time. Your bathrooms shared a wall, which you tried to ignore. Thankfully, your neighbor seemed to ignore it as well.
So why is there a man suddenly belting out I Will Always Love You as though performing a one-man tribute to Whitney Houston?
