#2 in fanfiction🏅
𝗔 𝗠𝗔𝗙𝗜𝗔 𝗔𝗥𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗚𝗘𝗗 𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗥𝗜𝗔𝗚𝗘 𝗥𝗢𝗠𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗘
'𝘼𝙨 𝙇𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙨 𝙎𝙝𝙚'𝙨 𝙎𝙖𝙛𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙘𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙗𝙪𝙧𝙣'
Kim Y/n was meant to be a leverage, an arranged bride offered to the Ko...
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I don't know why I'm running, but I'm running.
I went down to the kitchen got my snack cake, heard some noise from downstairs and thought it was Jungkook.
So I went to the basement.
It was not Jungkook.
That monstrous thing, covered in blood was Ian.
Jungkook told me he didn't want me around Ian. So I ran.
I know Jungkook wouldn't hurt me. Even if he's in some kind of fugue state, even if he's lost in this violent, fractured version of himself—he wouldn't hurt me.
But my feet won't stop moving and my body won't stop shaking.
This is too much trauma for one person, right?
I should be logical about this. I was attacked earlier today and now Jungkook is hurting the person who hurt me.
No. Ian is killing the person who hurt me.
Jungkook hurts bad guys. But that person isn't just any bad guy. That person is Max. My so called ex-boyfriend who i was forced to date.
Someone I knew. Until he punched me in the face. My brain can't rationalize it. So I run.
I slam my finger against the elevator button so hard I think it won't register, but it does.
The doors glide open. I scramble inside, frantically jabbing the button to my room.
My heart pounds as the doors start to close—But just before they shut, Ian steps in.
I scream, startled, as he looms inches away, his presence overwhelming.
I didn't think he'd follow. I didn't think he'd dare.
But here he is, slipping into the confined space, the scent of blood and vanilla clinging to him like a warning.
The silence is suffocating.
The only sound is the low hum of the elevator.
His dark eyes pin me in place. Ian steps closer. I shrink back instinctively, my spine pressing into the cold metal wall.
He doesn't stop until he's caged me in, his body an inescapable force.
His head dips low and he breathes me in. The sound is deep and drawn out, like he's savoring me.
"Y/n," he murmurs, his voice a low growl, his breath warm against my ear.
He nuzzles into me, his face brushing against mine.
I want to recoil—to pull away from the sting of his touch on my bruised cheek, from the blood smearing onto my skin.
But I freeze. Then his lips press to the pulse at my throat, and he stills.
